#BECAUSE I NEVER IMAGINED AN END SO I JUST TRIED TO SCRIBBLE SOMETHING NICE

[viky2318]

When you realize you don't know how to finish stories...

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[thebearer]

ok but imagine inviting boyfriend Carmy over for dinner at your parents home and your parents being so nervous to cook for him but Carmy loves the food and ends up asking your mom to teach him the family recipe 😭 I just want chef carmyyyy

god he would be a wreck. only because he just assumes all families are insane and hectic like his is... but your isn't????

your mom is so nice, sweet, inviting. she offers him a drink, thanks him for the side dish he brought, something over the top but not obnoxious. he stressed for days about what to bring. wanted something that was impressive but not arrogant.

she asks him all about being a chef, showing that she proudly owned the magazine he was featured in after winning his james beard. "isn't that so funny? i have a subscription to these cooking magazines. i love to cook. i mean, i'm not as good as you are."

"no, no, i-i'm sure you're good. better, really." carmen blushes, anxious and a little overwhelmed. he had prepared himself for anything but this- nice, homely. "i had to go to school for it. you're good all on your own. this is delicious."

you beam because they're getting along so well. it sends your mom into an ego boost of conversation, sure she'll flaunt to all her friends about how your boyfriend, the infamous young chef, said her food was good. "darlene will never be able to say her cannolis are better because this young man right here just said mine are the best!" she's smitten at it really, and carmen is blushing.

they get in the kitchen and it's over, swapping out recipes and secrets. your mom shares with him your favorite meal, which is juvenile at best, so you get a little embarrassed. spaghetti and meatballs, it's so basic, you knew it was, but it was always your favorite.

"but she likes penne noodles, carmen. don't ask me why. i don't know." your mother waves her hand, scribbling down the recipe.

"mom," you groan, cheeks flooding with heat. carmen is more than amused, grinning back at you.

"and don't you dare leave a tomato chunk in that sauce, carmen, or god help you. oh, this child." she points at you, shaking her head, her tone exaggerated and dramatic- just like her. "i tried to do something different with my sauce one time. once. and this one throws a fit!"

"i was like seven, mom." you huff, rolling your eyes.

"yeah, and you threw a fit like a seventeen year old. it was crazy." your mom scoffs playfully. "anyways, i never did it again. never changed the sauce." she slides the index card over to carmen with a grin. "you might need it one day, carmen."

and he did. one day, when you had a bad day, just everything went wrong, on the brink of tears. carmen followed your mom's recipe. it was close to mikey's, a few minor changes like... sugar in the sauce? he wasn't sure, but he'd do it for you. rolled the meatballs out. even bought the penne pasta, even though every atom in his chef body was screaming at him at the abomination of it.

you walked in, smelling the all too familiar aroma on the stove, carmen- having a day off now that business was steady and established- just gave you a small smile.

you wanted to sob, but you didn't. sitting with him instead and letting him fuss over you. he stood, watching you take the first bite excitedly. "good?" he grinned.

you nodded. "better than my mom's. don't you dare tell her i said that." you smiled back.

he beamed. "don't you." he smirks, pressing a finger into your side playfully.

you do tell your mom what he did, and she is beaming. brags on him the next time she sees him, even throwing in a playful, "heard you've outdone me." with a wink.

carmen is a red, blushing mess. "i told you not to say that!"

"it was just a joke, carmy. she's teasing you."

[zhalfirin-binds]

WIP - The Crown of the Summer Court

case construction (long post under the cut, see the finished bind here)

Did I ever mention I hate sanding? Well, I did a lot of sanding for this bind. Sadly I forgot to take pictures of all the steps, but I'll try my best to fill in the gaps.

The series of steps jumps a bit back and forth and feels reversed at times, because I needed different measurements to do different step on another part of the bind.

Basically I started like I always do, with the spine stiffener and a piece of paper to gather the case before covering. Only this time there was a bit more to think about. I knew I wanted a thaumatrope on the case and it should not be a dangly bit, but still removable. Also it should not stick out too much (preferably not at all to avoid damage to the thaumatrope). To achieve that I planned on using a magnet and sink one into the board and sandwich the other between card board on the thaumatrope. So part of the board thickness was simply dictated by the thickness of the magnet. I was in luck to have some really thin neodymium magnets and still the boards ended up ~3mm, which is massive for an A7 sized book.

The case is made of 2 different kinds of board, one solid 2,5mm the other layered to make a cut out easier.

Here you can see the different levels of the front board . A thinner base with an inset magnet, covered by cardboard so the magnet will not show through (maybe that is doable by working the inset neater but I have not managed that so far so I went for the additional cardboard) On top a thinner grey board to accommodate for the thaumatrope, so it would not stick out (too much).

The small ledge was cut back later when I trimmed the boards to fit the book block.

I also sanded the edges to a bevel so they would not look as massive as they actually are.

To get smooth paste downs I also sanded the paper used to connect the boards. Which later proved unnecessary, because I decided to glue in more cardboard to even out the cork veneer, which is comparably bulky and left too much of a step for my liking.

Next up was covering the front and back board with a nice base paper. Naturally I had nothing I liked. I considered the same paper as the endpapers.

I tried the front...

... and backside

While I think both are actually okay, neither made me really happy. Eventually I set out to make paste papers. The idea was to get something with earthy colours in the 'root' area, a yellowish colour in the trunk height and some leafy green in the upper part.

Lesson learned in this session: - patterns are harder than you imagine them to be - getting colours right is harder than you imagine it to be - size matters! if you have just a small area to show some colour shift. use paper only a little larger than needed to get all the colours you want/need on it.

The winner was some fooling around when I had actually given up on my idea and a sunrise/sunset pair of papers turned out nicely. I checked with the patter I cut for the cork veneer and it fit surprisingly well.

I was a little worried for the paper to tear in the recessed area. but it was trouble at all to work the paper in there. Still to keep the edges crisp I cut the cut out circle a tiny bit smaller and put it back in the recessed area to let the paper dry with a weight on top.

By the way, the papers have not been waxed! Since I wanted to glue another layer on top and most of the paper would be covered again, I didn't want to seal the surface.

Next step was preparing the cork veneer with the cut outs. I had started with some scribbles on paper and simply used those to trace on the paper backside of the cork paper. To not get confused I had marked front and back before drawing anything and hatched the areas that were to cut away.

The gluing it self was easy on the spine and then I realised, that I could not just cover the front in glue and lay down the veneer because I'd never manage to just apply glue to the parts where the cork was meant to be. So working one side after the other I dabbed the glue on to the veneer in midair while holding it up. It works, but I really can't recommend that.

The turn-ins were easy after that though. For the second bind I applied glue to the whole of the cork paper. Which wasn't much better to be honest. With all the tiny bits and pieces I had glue pressing out to the front and smearing a bit to the cork. Fortunately the material is rather forgiving to glue stains though.

Last I leveled out the inside of the case with cardboard. This time I remembered to bevel the cardboard on the hinge side to soften the step there!

[luveline]

you know, I'm coming right back [Fred Weasley x Reader]

summary: you're a lonely artist and Fred is your adoring model

word count: 2.4k

tags: reader insert, lonely reader, artist reader, seventh year, kids in love, first kiss, getting together, pining, fluff, friends-to-lovers

It was easy for you, usually, to act fine. To feel fine. Any loneliness that clouded your life was pushed firmly into the depths of your thoughts. You tried to focus on the things that mattered, essays and charms and your art.

You loved to draw. You had sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches, some half finished, others coloured and lined. You drew everything, though you struggled to bring anything from your memory. Everything you drew had to be done right there, right then, with unsuspecting models. You sketched students eating their dinner, scribbled side profiles when you managed a spare minute in class. But you're most impressive artwork was done in the library, where nothing moved. Everyone was silent. You had pages and pages of bored, tired looking students. When exams approached, you hurriedly copied down the expressions of people on the edge of depression and panic.

You had friends, ish. You knew people. You'd had intense friendships that somehow always ended in awkward drifting aparts. Well, you thought. There must be something wrong with me. They liked me before they didn't, so the fault must've been mine.

You huffed out a sigh, pressing your face deep into the textured page of your sketch book, breathing in the smell of charcoal. You were sketching the illusive Fred Weasley, who you'd never truly drawn before. Maybe you had scraps from your second or third year when you'd still attempted to draw moving objects before getting comfortable and accepting that still life was your forte.

He was maddeningly good lucking when his eyebrows puckered in concentration. He seemed to actually be studying for once, sat at a table with his brother, George, and housemates Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet.

You were sat by yourself, and couldn't help listening to his lilting voice as he bantered with his friends. They were talking about Umbridge (the current victim of the Hogwarts' student body hate train), and quidditch, and their recent ban from quidditch. You'd never played.

"Watch out, dolly fell asleep," said one of the girls.

You bit your lip. You'd been nicknamed dolly by the girls in your dorm because of your porcelain doll you'd had since childhood. Even though this year was your last, you still hadn't felt the need to hide her away. She made you feel much less anxious and alone.

The whole school knew, naturally.

"Don't get any funny ideas," said Angelina,  to the twins.

"Come on Angie, you think so little of us?" said George.

"Yesterday I watched you trick a group of forth years into taking puking pastilles." Angelina said.

"It was hardly a trick. We told them they were multi-faceted," said George.

You could hear your heartbeat if you focused. It was in your ears. It bump, bump, bumped.

Bump bump. You flinched, a hand settled on your shoulder quickly moved.

"Wake up, dolly. Library's closing."

You squinted up into Fred's face, head halo'd by candlelight. Lifting your head from the wooden table, you stretched your neck to the left. It clicked.

"Uh..."

"Hmm?" You prompted him, smoothing your hair behind your ears.

"You have - dirt. On your face. Here-" He said, reaching forward. You closed your eyes as he gently wiped the skin above your eyebrow.

"It's charcoal."

"What?"

"It's not dirt," you said, peaking at him through your eyelashes. "It's charcoal."

He looked mildly surprised. You shifted, hoping to cover your sketch before he caught sight of it.

It didn't matter.

"It's me. My gorgeous dolly, you've created quite the masterpiece right there, haven't you? I look vexingly handsome, of course. Thought if that's a consequence of your skill or my handsomeness is anyones guess."

You were lost for words. "Uh, quite."

"Yes, yes, quite. Say, could I keep it?"

"... You want the drawing?"

"I'd love it, if that's okay."

"I," you quickly dug your thumbnail into the paper, tearing carefully at the centre. The paper came away a little ragged and smudged. "Of course. It's yours."

He handled it with care.

The librarian jingled her little bell again.

"Thank you. So, see you?"

"Yep," you agreed.

He nodded his head and bowed out with his friends. You tried not to feel paranoid at their laughter.

-

You were curled up in a hidden alcove, though it was hardly hidden. Most students knew where to seek privacy in the castle. You just so happened to get there first that evening.

You were trying to sketch Fred again. It felt weird to be missing a page from your book, and weirder still that you couldn't remember his face when he wasn't right in front of you. You tried, but it kept going wrong.

When you finally managed one you liked well enough, you had accidentally ruined it with a heavy hand and the wrong shade of brown.

He looked much too brunette.

You carefully rolled your coloured pencils back up, securing the leather ties tightly so as to keep every pencil confined.

Sighing morosely, you flipped to a new page. Things got so complicated sometimes, it made you agitated. You doodled a little sad face in the corner of your page. When the one thing that you enjoyed in life started to go wrong, it set off your whole mood.

Your birthday was coming up. It had been on your mind a lot lately. You'd spend it alone. That's what you figured. Nobody would know it was your birthday, or if they did, you weren't friends now, so...

You began with an arching circle, bisecting the lines appropriately. Feeling out the familiar lines of your own face came easy, the slight upper tilt of your brows, your hair and your pursed mouth. You always looked sad in the mirror, and it showed, dotted here and there when the only thing to draw was your own face.

The rudimentary outline of a birthday cake took form. The candles were unlit.

In a fit of unhappiness, you scratched out your mouth. It was never smiling.

"What did that piece of paper ever do to you?" said a voice.

You jumped. Fred was peering down at you curiously, wringing his hands. You put your pencil between the soft cover and smashed it flat, closed.

"Hi, dolly."

"Weasley."

"Oh, not even a first name?"

"You neglected mine first," you reasoned, rolling the words. He smiled at your joking tone.

"How rude of me. Hi, Y/N," he corrected himself.

"Hi, Weasley."

He smirked.

"Anymore of me in that blessed vessel?"

"Nah. You never stand still."

"If I pose for it?" He asked. You patted the ground in front of you.

He was a lovely model. He stayed infinitely still, more still than you imagined possible for him. He sat at a 3/4ths angle, chin up but not too far, mouth tilted and eyes open.

His eyes were the one thing he couldn't keep still. You tried not to flame in the cheeks everything you'd catch his gaze on you.

You sketched fast, choosing to hatch rather than render, big swooping lines to give the illusion of a depth that wasn't really there. You would've loved to do a full render, maybe even a colour portrait, but he was beginning to look a little antsy.

You set the book on the floor to face him and pushed it into his eyesight softlt. He turned. He looked nice like that, face bent, hair falling into his eyes.

After a moment, he began scrounging through his robe pockets. He set down a box, a lighter, a pair of gloves.

Finally, he set a galleon onto the floor close to your crossed legs.

"For you," he said, smiling at your inquisitive look. "For the drawing."

"Oh, I can't accept that. And I'd like to keep this one, if it's alright."

Fred thought for a moment. "Alright, you keep it. And the galleon, too, for the one you gave me the other day."

You bit back a smile. "I can't take your money, Fred."

"I can't keep having you draw me for free. It's as valuable a service as anything else. Plus, I'm not sure if you know, but I run a lucrative business these days."

You picked up the coin, rubbing your thumb against the engravings thoughtfully. "It's hardly a service."

"A talent, then. A skill. You're very good."

You're neck almost snapped as you looked into his face, wanting to assess his expression for genuineness. He looked earnest, and kind. You blinked away the gathering heat behind your eyes.

"Thank you."

He waved a hand at you. "Think nothing of it."

"Really-" you cleared your throat, "-you're doing me a favour. I'm not good at drawing things that move."

"I'm sure you're better than you think," he said.

You shook your head, smiling smiling smiling.

"What's in the box?"

"Oh, this old thing?" Fred weighed the box in his hands. It was soft at the corners, like a simple jewelry box that you had in your trunk. He offered it to you. You opened it carefully, the lid sliding free with a shhhhh sound. Inside was an evil looking fruit pastille, a match stick and a dried up flower petal.

It felt like a very private thing to see, suddenly. Such an eclectic collection of items couldn't be random.

"The first puking pastille George and I made. Or rather, the second - the first was forcibly fed to Lee Jordan in our third year. The match stick is from my Uncle's matchbox. I never met him. And the flower was from Ginny, when she was 9." He sounded nervous.

"It's a memory box."

"I- yes. It is. Things are sometimes so miserable now, with Umbridge and you-know-who. Scary, even. I look at them when I feel like it won't ever end."

You took them in for a little while longer and then placed the lid onto the box with nimble fingers. You scratched the lid with a fingernail.

"It's nice. You're right. Things are so awful right now, it's good to have reminders of why we keep going."

"Exaclty. Dolly, can I interest you in a fruit pastille?"

"Not on your life."

"They're perfectly edible!"

"Sure, Fred."

-

The honest conversation you'd shared with Fred was a catalyst between you. He often came to find you, each time whining and nagging you to just sit in the library like most people do.

"What, so your housemates can throw paper balls at me?"

"They thought you were sleeping!"

A likely story, you thought. He sometimes asked you to draw him, posing with the elegance of a natural born model. It was great for you personally, you felt that you were really getting a feel for his face. Eventually, you were able to draw his face from memory, the details of his nose coming to your fingers as easily as a first year spell.

It became about capturing emotion. You could capture his likeness now without a second thought, but his emotions were much more complicated. How would you show his veiled frustration the day Umbridge kicked him off the quidditch team? Through the clenching of his jaw? The shy veins in his forehead? How did you showcase the fear when he'd come back to Hogwarts after Christmas break, through his eyes, downturned and squinting just a little?

Today, it was poorly hidden elation. "How come you're so happy?" You asked, pencil between your teeth. He grinned. You measured his face with your thumb in the air, forming an L.

"Is it a prank?"

"You're thinking too small."

"A new product?"

"Still need to go bigger!"

"Hmmm," you hummed. Measure twice, cut once. Or in your case, sketch once.

"George and I, we're gonna open a shop."

"A section at Zonko's isn't enough for you?" You asked, casually, though you were very very happy for him.

"It's going to be amazing. We're going to run it, just the two of us, and you won't catch me in these scrappy long sleeves anymore. The next time you see me, I'll be in a full suit and tie."

"The next time? Is that not tomorrow?"

Fred closed his mouth, realising his mistake. He had revealed something he hadn't intended to. "We're leaving," he confessed. "We were going to wait for our NEWTs but... Well, we won't need them. This is going to work."

"So. You're leaving today?" You asked, crestfallen.

"Hey," Fred said, rubbing a placating hand over the curve of your shoulder. "Tomorrow. During the DADA OWL. We have a plan."

"This is goodbye?"

"No! No. Not if you don't want it to be. Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, and maybe now isn't the best time, I had this whole letter planned and I didn't want to distract you from your exams and-"

"What do you want to ask me?"

Fred straightened. "I wanted to ask - will you go out with me? Not, you don't have to be my girlfriend if it's too soon, I'd love to take you for food someplace, I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade, but when the shop officially became ours, the plans changed so fast and I didn't know if you'd still want-" you cut off his rambling.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said.

"You will?"

"Sure, if you'll be my boyfriend," you murmured.

Fred moved the arm that had been on your shoulder to the nape of your neck. "That's a dealbreaker," he said, leaning in.

He kissed you chastely on the lips first and then pulled back to look into your face. You chased him, a moment of bravery, and opened your mouth to taste him. He was sweet, like sugar. Your sketch pad crinkled beneath you both as he pressed forward. Your chests touched, heaving.

"You're not gonna be my boyfriend?" You asked against his mouth, breathing hard.

"I'm gonna be much more than that, dolly," he said heatedly.

Your mouth was tingling. "Kiss me again?"

You gasped at the force of him, laughing. He laughed too against your lips, and the sound tickled. He gave you a multitude of short and sweet kisses before pulling away again.

He wiped the wetness from your lip with his pinky finger. "Godric, you're cute. Look how flushed you are! You're insane."

Something churned in your stomach. The butterflies had acquired a trampoline. You felt happier than you had in a very long time. "You're not half-bad yourself, Weasley."

[gffa]

Last time I went about five months between doing a set of STAR WARS fic recs, this time it’s only been three months! Hurrah! It helps that, as always, this fandom puts out an incredible amount of excellent fic, so I feel like I’m never hurting for fics I want to yell about and shove at people, which is something I continue to appreciate as it often feels like so much of the world is such a huge tire fire. It helps to be able to find fics to retreat into, to have fun with, to express joy and creativity with, and so many of the authors in this fandom are just so good at this! To the point that these sets sometimes take awhile because there are always more fics I want to add, until the post starts threatening to be overly long instead of a decent length–in my defense, no seriously, you guys are just too good! Also, I forced myself to stop at 69 fic recs, because yes I do think it’s funny. (Nice.) STAR WARS FIC RECS: PREQUELS RECS: ✦ a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux, obi-wan & dooku & yoda & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 4k    This was what time-travel is: staring at the dark sockets of skulls everywhere your gaze lands on. Being haunted by ghosts long gone. The apprehension of the slow yet sure approach of the inevitable which is sending chills down your spine. ✦ No Rest for the Weary by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & jedi & ocs, 61k    Needing a break from life at the Jedi Temple, Obi-Wan Kenobi and his apprentice, Anakin Skywalker, visit a Jedi AgriCorps settlement on the Midrim planet of Helia. There they encounter new friends, new enemies and have new adventures, all while attempting to navigate their sometimes turbulent relationship as Master and Padawan. ✦ Stars of Tatooine by Be_Right_Back, ahsoka & kanan & mace & rex & obi-wan & cast, 10.5k    After the end of the world, Ahsoka more or less kidnaps a child, has to air some old grievances, and tries to find whatever peace the universe can still offer. All paths in the Force lead home, eventually. ✦ Festival of Light by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 8.7k    During his first year at the Jedi Temple, Anakin learns that even the Jedi celebrate holidays. ✦ the master, the padawan, the Force by skatzaa, depa & caleb, 1.4k    Caleb expects things to be different after Master Depa takes him as her padawan, but really, it feels like nothing really changes. ✦ desecrate my lungs by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 16k wip    Time-travel fix-it in which Mustafar haunts Anakin decades after it happened and years before it would. ✦ Grace by dismantlingsummer, obi-wan & anakin, 2.3k    Shortly after Mustafar, Anakin realizes what he has done. He finds Obi-Wan to beg for death. ✦ Fifth Migration by wrennette, yoda & mace & obi-wan & ki-adi & yarael & coleman & plo & palpatine & cast, 2k    How about an AU where the Sith’s Grand Plan accounted for everything -everything that is, except the fact that the Jedi temple is actually an very ancient spacecraft and the second word got to the Jedi about there being clones on Kamino, all Jedi are called back inside and they take off immediately? Just imagine the dear chancellor’s face… ✦ fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave, obi-wan/padme & sabe & mace & quinlan & cast, 9.8k    A year after the Invasion of Naboo, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is invited by Queen Amidala to return to Naboo and participate in a rite known as the Night of Fireflies. Things kind of snowball from there. ✦ Mind Your Words by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin, spanking, 7k    Obi-Wan reminds Anakin that there are consequences for careless behavior for young Jedi on missions. ✦ (you taught me) the courage of stars by grumpyhedgehogs, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 5.1k wip    Ahsoka Tano flees after a warrant for her arrest is issued, but not before receiving aid from an unexpected ally. (Ahsoka proceeds to go on a road trip filled with a bunch of strangers who all say the same thing: Obi-Wan Kenobi is much more than he has ever appeared to be.) ✦ they faked it (guess everything’s complicated) by katierosefun, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 4.5k    Ahsoka temporarily loses memories of the events of Obi-Wan’s fake death. To help with the healing process, Anakin and Obi-Wan have to pretend that they’re okay. ✦ programed to dream by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, body horror, 1.3k    The spaceship Comet-rider is the fastest, most efficient vessel in the galaxy, and is crewed by Separatist-funded pirates. Anakin Skywalker is missing. Unfortunately, these two things are connected. ✦ Unpleasant Truths by hellowkatey, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k    Obi-Wan and Anakin are stuck in a room with one another while waiting for truth serum to wear off. ✦ moment’s silence by skatzaa, obi-wan & owen & beru & luke & leia (pre-obi-wan/beru-owen), 2k    Owen had long since resigned himself to trouble, whenever Beru got that particularly stubborn set to her jaw. ✦ hold gently and let go by shatou, obi-wan & anakin (pre-slash?), 1.7k    A troubled Anakin comes to Obi-Wan to discuss attachments. ✦ sun child by Ro29, obi-wan & anakin, 2.1k    (or; sometimes being so tied to the Force causes problems, Obi-Wan helps his Padawan as best he can) ✦ A Dinner Out by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & cast, 1.6k    Obi-Wan can’t get his young Padawan to eat much, so he tries something new. But trying something different has unintended consequences. ✦ Shades in the Desert by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin & luke & owen/beru, 10.8k    Not even from a certain point of view did Darth Vader kill Anakin Skywalker. He wished he did, but the specter of the Jedi’s light escaped before he could finalize his fall to the dark. Meanwhile, Anakin is raising his son on Tatooine. ✦ somewhere along in the bitterness by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, major character death, 3.8k    It was probably the twelfth day floating alone in space that Obi-Wan and Anakin realized no one was coming for them. ✦ Songs for Little Jedi by soft_but_gremlin, mace & younglings, ~1k    The initiates are having nightmares, so Mace sings a lullaby to comfort them. ✦ atmosphere level by softredscrunchie, obi-wan/satine & qui-gon, 1k    As a joke, Satine tells Obi-Wan she thinks Mandalore is flat. He doesn’t take it well. ✦ on sith holocrons and misunderstandings by billowypants, obi-wan & anakin & mace & yoda & cast, de-aged!obi-wan, 7.2k    or, de-aged!Obi-Wan has the same Force bonds as adult Obi-Wan, and he does not react well. ✦ Perseverance & Resilience by loosingletters, obi-wan & anakin, 1.1k    In the aftermath of Naboo, Obi-Wan realizes he needs strength to protect his new Padawan. Growing up, Anakin needs peace. ✦ A Delicate Balance by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & yoda & jedi, spanking, 9.6k    As Anakin’s skills grow, so too does his penchant for getting into trouble. After a training mishap, Obi-Wan struggles with his role as Anakin’s master. ✦ mirror, mirror by CallToMuster, obi-wan & anakin, 5.4k    Obi-Wan has been rescued by Anakin after being rather embarrassingly kidnapped on the remote planet of Ilnuria during his investigation of rumored kyber crystals deep beneath the planet’s surface. …But is all as it seems? ✦ Mace Windu Appreciation Week by Redminibike1, mace & obi-wan & anakin & ponds & cody & jedi & cast, 12.5k    Set of unconnected ficlets for Mace Windu Appreciation Week, because he deserves it :) ✦ begin again as a quiet thought by skatzaa, obi-wan/quinlan, d/s, ~1k    Cool, smooth leather touched his jaw—gloves. Because of course Obi-Wan had thought of that as well. ✦ Drunken Lullabies by Siri_Kenobi12, obi-wan & anakin & siri & quinlan & aayla & garen & bant & ferus, 6.5k    “Do I really have to go to this thing?” Fourteen year old Anakin Skywalker dramatically sighed. “It’s sooo boring!” ✦ heaven knows how I love you by the_13th_battalion, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, 1.2k    Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka are stranded on an unfamiliar planet overnight. They spend their time exploring the community- and maybe they get a little closer to each other along the way. ✦ A Reckless Padawan by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka, spanking, 3.9k    When Ahsoka upsets Anakin with an act of reckless disobedience, it falls to her grandmaster to help her see the error of her ways. OBI-WAN/ANAKIN RECS: ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. ✦ Nostos by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & padme, NSFW, 17k    Or, how Obi-Wan and Anakin discover that there are many ways to come home. ✦ to touch the light, darkest by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.9k    Obi-Wan begins to fuck Vader back to the light ✦ encode by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & padme & handmaidens & cast, 26.3k wip    Instead of being accepted into the Jedi Order at the age of 9, Anakin Skywalker became a ward of Naboo. ✦ Hunting the Homeward Light by GreenQueenofClubs, obi-wan/anakin & mace & ahsoka & shmi & padme & cast, 31.9k wip    When Anakin Skywalker was nine, he left his whole life and mother behind to follow Qui-Gon Jinn to Coruscant and the Jedi Temple. When Anakin Skywalker was twelve, he left his whole life and Master behind to follow Mace Windu to the Outer Rim and away from the Jedi Order. When Anakin Skywalker was twenty… ✦ use my body to break your fall by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 44.7k wip    Obi-Wan Kenobi is too good at being a Sith Lord general of the Separatist army. The Jedi Council approaches Anakin with an offer he can’t refuse. These things are, actually, related. ✦ Over and Over by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 1.4k    “I love you,” he blurts out, loud and impossible to miss. Obi-Wan blinks once, twice. And freezes. The first time Anakin tells him is a mortifying experience. ✦ Exceptions by rinverse, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & mace & quinlan & cast, NSFW, modern au, 23.4k    Young and brilliant, Anakin is the mind behind JEDI Tech’s latest innovation. Obi-Wan is the company’s perfectly composed Director of PR & Marketing. And last night, they were just two strangers at a bar, looking for something quick and easy. But life had other plans when it crossed their paths again the very next day. ✦ Here There Be Dragons by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, 10.1k    Anakin knows why he can’t shift into his animal form like every other Jedi. It’s because he doesn’t want to, it’s because he’s had a vision of what he would become, and he doesn’t want it. ✦ Waiting in a Sea of Stars by Peach_Bitters (peachybitters), obi-wan/anakin, ~1k    Stranded in deep space, Obi-Wan and Anakin wait for rescue. ✦ Tristitia by JSwander, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, 5k    An alternate timeline where Palpatine focuses his attentions on Obi-Wan Kenobi instead of Anakin Skywalker after the attack on Naboo. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 11: Communication, What Communication? by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, mobster au, 7k    a 7k obikin PWP that is somehow a prompt mashup of a mobster au, an accidental sugar daddy au, with a soupçon of an anakin never left tatooine au, and a pinch of qui-gon was anakin’s dad au ✦ who a person truly is cannot be seen with the eye by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, spanking, 3.6k    Anakin purposely avoids doing what Obi-Wan tells him to do. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 12: Potidaea, 432BC, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, historical au, 4.3k    Here is a short smutty scene inspired by all those classics asks, Alcibiades praising Socrates in Plato’s Symposium, and this vase c.490-480 B.C. depicting standing, face-to-face intercrural intercourse between a bearded man and a youth, which as far as we can tell was the most common and accepted position for it in Ancient Greece. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 13: Minikin and Tiny-Wan by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.4k    Happy May the Fourth! In honor of this happy day, I have written the fluffiest, crackiest, vanilla-flavored smut imaginable. Based on long discussions on discord with tomicaleto about her adorable Tiny AU. ✦ to hold until brightness by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 1.4k    Obi-Wan feared that it drew out the darkest in him, to bring Vader to these flashes of light, but it was a trade he would make again and again without hesitation. ✦ May Be Found, If Sought by ghostwriterofthemachine, obi-wan/anakin & mace & quinlan, magical academy au, 2.3k    In which Quinlan, Mace, and Obi-Wan teach Non-Traditional Magical Philosophy in an institution rampant with academic snobbery and discrimination, something dark is stirring in the nearby forest, and no one is ever prepared for Anakin Skywalker. A small story about first meetings in magical academia. ✦ infinitely varied by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 2.2k    Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. ✦ recipe for disaster by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 9.8k    When Ahsoka tells Anakin she doesn’t want to learn piano anymore, Anakin is heartbroken. He doesn’t care about the instrument, obviously, but he’s practically in love with her teacher. Obi-Wan offers up a solution to their impending separation, and it’s not dating like any normal person would suggest. Instead, he’s gonna teach Anakin how to cook. Except Anakin’s a pretty well-known chef, and Obi-Wan is absolutely awful in the kitchen. ✦ Pretty Kitty by GayCheerios, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    “Master, you always take such good care of me,” Anakin says, a little chirp coming after his sentence, as his thumb rests on Anakin’s plump bottom lip. ✦ As One, Into Eternity by Pseudonymoose, obi-wan/anakin, force ghosts, 3.1k    Death comes, but the man who was, and is, and will be Anakin Skywalker is not gone. And in the Force, he will never be alone again. ✦ does he make you laugh? by y0u_idjits, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, fusion fic, 3.6k    “Tell me it’s not about screwing the guy who’s screwing your husband.” ✦ Rotten Work by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, 2.8k    Obi-Wan: I’ll take care of you. Anakin, with bloodshot eyes and a broken back from hours of terrible posture: It’s rotten work. Obi-Wan, who needs to bathe this man for his own sanity and health: Not to me. Not if it’s you. ✦ afterimages by shatou, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    Mustafar is nothing but a bad dream. ✦ understanding is honoring the truth beneath the surface by RexIsMyCopilot, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 7.3k    Anakin asks Obi-Wan to take control. ✦ The strongest stars… by Tomicaleto, obi-wan/anakin & beru & cast, NSFW, 7.4k    The war’s end seems to be close, with everyone looking forward to it. And when Anakin is doubting himself the most, an unexpected visit arrives at the Temple. ✦ home has a heartbeat by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 5.6k    Or: Anakin and Obi-Wan are together, but there are still some things left unsaid between them. ✦ turn back now (i’m haunted) by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin & padme & quinlan & ahsoka & cast, modern au, ghosts au, 25k wip    Anakin Skywalker’s house is haunted. Luckily for him, Padmé knows a ghost hunter. Unluckily for him, it’s the hottest, most english-professor ghost hunter he’s ever seen. And extremely unluckily for him, he’s starting to get the feeling he understands maybe ten percent of what’s actually going on here, not to mention what’s at stake. ✦ game plan by treescape, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 11.2k    Or, Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It’s kind of a thing. ✦ Provocation by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.9k    Or: Obi-Wan and Anakin attempt to navigate their complicated relationship with barbed words and wilful ignorance. It wasn’t going well. ✦ Languages by Crowgirl, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 6.5k    So Anakin pulls out a map and makes a list. REBELS RECS: ✦ The Scent of You by ambiguously, kanan/hera & cast, a smidge of nsfw, 2.9k    Everything changes after Malachor, and Kanan has trouble finding his balance. ✦ Heard It in a Love Song (Can’t Be Wrong) by ambiguously, zeb/kallus, 2.7k    Kallus can’t quite figure out what makes Zeb tick, but he keeps trying. ORIGINAL TRILOGY/MANDALORIAN RECS: ✦ A Discussion of Choices by Peppermint_Shamrock, luke & mace, 2k    Mace Windu has traveled the galaxy since the fall of the Republic, keeping out of the Empire’s sight and teaching where he can. Upon the request of a ghost of an old friend, Mace finds himself instructing Luke Skywalker, who is still reeling from the truth of Vader’s identity. ✦ staring down the barrel of the hot sun by magneticwave, luke/din & obi-wan & grogu & mace & cast, 25.7k    “Gone to a Child of the Watch, the Darksaber has,” Grand Master Yoda announces in his creaky little voice. “Peace, there is not, and yet peace, there must be.” ✦ Released by Peppermint_Shamrock, cody & rex & luke & cast, 6k    Nearly two and a half decades late, Cody’s chip is finally removed. Adjusting to having his mind returned to him after so long takes time, and Cody struggles with questions of his purpose of the past, present, and future. Fortunately, he does not have to struggle alone. ✦ A Tatooine Rainstorm by skatzaa, leia & luke & shmi, 1.7k    Leia meets a ghost. ✦ Dealing with the Darksaber by Peppermint_Shamrock, din & bo-katan & cara, 1.3k    After her recovery, Bo-Katan contacts Din to challenge him for the darksaber. Din is still very much not interested in the whole affair. FULL DETAILS + RECS HERE

[nixll]

venice for one

pairing : harry styles x reader

summary : after getting broken up with and struggling with your own insecurities, you make the split-second decision to take a solo trip to venice. you expect the week to be a fun-filled adventure, but when you accidentally have a run-in with a famous popstar, things don’t go quite as you expect them to. 

word count : 9.5k

warning : smut, 18+

“you don’t ever do something just because it makes you feel good?”

paris for one by jojo moyes

The moment you step off the train and onto the platform, you feel a sudden urge to turn back around, toss your bags back on the bench you had been seated on, and make the same exact trip you had just taken again, only backwards this time.

Instead, you force your feet to take one step after another, your suitcase dragging noisily behind you against the concrete platform as you lug your tote bag higher up on your shoulder. In your hand is a note scribbled with the name of the bed and breakfast you booked yourself into, and directions written neatly with bullet points, but as you enter the city of Venice, Italy, you know finding the place you’re looking for is going to be much harder than you had first thought.

The city, as gorgeous as it is, is a slightly confusing maze of sidewalks and canals, and there’s people everywhere. The anxiety you had managed to push away when you got off the train is slowly returning as you look at your directions and attempt to find your way.

This trip had been a split-second decision, one made by your irrationally, heartbroken brain only a few hours after your boyfriend had dumped you. The breakup had come as a surprise to you, especially after many of your friends had brought up the idea of marriage after several years together, but your now ex-boyfriend had thought otherwise.

“You’re not the girl I fell in love with,” he had claimed in an uproar as he threw a suitcase together, “you’re not the fun, outgoing person I used to know.”

You had tried arguing against his claims, but it had done no good, and in the end, he had walked out with nothing more than a promise to come back to what had been your shared apartment to get the rest of his stuff over the next few days. When you called your friends to tell them what happened they had done their best to fill your head with encouraging words and stories about how you were still a fun person to be around, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized your ex was right.

You weren’t the same person he had fallen in love with, and you hadn’t been that person in a long time. In some ways that was okay. You had fallen in love young and where you grew up, he still acted like the immature college student you had met years ago. He partied constantly, going out with friends at all hours of the night, and you honestly don’t remember the last time the two of you hung out somewhere other than the bar down the street. Nice restaurants had never been his thing, and in wanting to make him happy, you had never opted for anything but what he suggested.

You knew he wasn’t happy anymore, and neither were you. You were getting older and concerning yourself with your job and what your future looked like, not when the next time you could go for a cocktail hour was. You had settled into a routine for yourself, one that required no more effort than you needed, and in having that, your now ex-boyfriend decided you were a prude.

After a while, though, you wondered how much of what he had said to you was true. You don’t remember being much of a party girl when you were younger, but you definitely had your moments, and you definitely hadn’t had one of those moments in a long time. You knew if asked what word could describe you the best, adventurous or outgoing wouldn’t be the first word, or second or third to pop into anyone’s head, but maybe you wanted to be those things.

Maybe you wanted a stranger on the street to look at you and wonder what kind of adventures you had been on because just by looking at you, they can tell you know how to have a good time. Maybe you wanted to be that pretty girl in the room, the one that nobody could take their eyes off of.

Five hours after your relationship had ended, you decided you didn’t need your ex, but you did need a change of pace.

You were going to take a trip to Italy by yourself. You hadn’t told anybody, not even your friends, and had only left a brief voicemail to your workplace calling out sick for the rest of the week and no other explanation. It had taken you an hour to book all the tickets needed for travel and to find a place to stay that would take you with such little notice, but in practically no time at all, and with two haphazardly packed bags, you had been on your way to Italy for what you hoped would be a fun adventurous few days.

So far, the idea of a fun filled week had completely escaped your mind and your first day in Italy had started out with a drag.

You had yet to find the Bed & Breakfast you had booked yourself into, and with a sore shoulder from carrying your bag and your hand growing increasingly sweaty as you gripped onto your suitcase, you were beginning to think about what your best bet would be on getting home.

Not a single person you had managed to stop speaks English, and even after you show them the name of the place scribbled at the top of your sheet in Italian, nobody is seemingly able to help you. Venice is not the biggest city, and you remember briefly reading about how it is possible to walk the entire city in the matter of an hour. With a glance at the watch on your wrist, you’re ready to turn around and make your way back to the train station in the hopes of catching a ride back.

That’s when you spot it: the barely-there sign with a name on it that matches the one on your paper.

Vera Ospitalità.

It’s a cute little blue building, looking exactly like it did when you were Googling places to stay in Venice. It hadn’t cost very much, and the lady had sounded sweet over the phone when you asked how soon she would have a room open.

“We always have a room open, cara.”

You hadn’t quite understood what she meant at the time, but the sight of those two Italian words fill your body with a jittery joy as you let out a shout, catching the attention of a few people walking past you. You pay them no mind as you pick up the pace, not taking your eyes off the sign until you’re standing in front of the door and pushing it open.

The bell above lets out a delightful jingle as you walk in. You can only imagine what you look like to the lady sitting at the desk as you walk in with sweat dripping down your forehead and a slightly rumpled paper stuffed in your hand, but she offers you a cheerful smile.

“Are you Irene?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you step up to the desk, letting your bag fall from your shoulder. “We talked on the phone yesterday.”

“Yes! Hello, cara,” Irene says, standing from her seat and reaching for the guestbook she keeps under the counter. “I am happy to see you made it. How was your trip?”

You smile, trying not to think about the want to turn back around and head home you felt only minutes ago. “It was good! Happy to finally be here.”

“Oh, yes, yes. Just sign these forms and I will get you your key.” Irene pushes the book your way and you easily sign your name on the dotted line. “There is only one bathroom upstairs, but you get the room directly across from it.”

Your head snaps up from the book. “One bathroom?”

“Yes,” Irene nods, “but it has a tub, and the water runs perfectly. And there is only one other guest staying here this week, so there should be no trouble.”

“There’s only two of us here?”

Irene pauses. “You ask many questions.”

You offer a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“There is a young man staying here also, about your age. I only have four rooms and I don’t get many guests.”

You briefly wonder if you should have chosen a slightly more expensive place to stay, but your expectations hadn’t been very high coming in and how bad can it be when there are only two of you staying?

Irene hands over your key, directing you up the stairs to where your room waits for you. “Breakfast is served at 7 if you would like some, otherwise I have a list of places around the city you can visit.”

You give Irene one last thank you before you’re heading up the stairs, your suitcase and bag in hand. Your room is immediately at the top to your right, with the door across from yours labeled bagno with a cute little wooden sign. There are two more rooms a little further down the hall, and then one at the very end with the door open enough for you to glance inside.

There’s music playing – something you’ve heard on the radio a million times before but can’t remember the name of – and you can make out the silhouette of someone sitting at a small desk next to a window. With the way the setting sun is shining through, you can’t make out any of the figure’s features, but you know that this is the man Irene mentioned downstairs.

You wave a hand. “Hi.”

You can see him turn his head, but can’t make out any features still, nor an expression, as he stands and shuts the door without a second thought.

You frown, deciding not to dwell on it as you unlock your room and step inside. It’s small, and you know your friends would try and make it sound better by calling it quaint, but you decide that it’s not any more or any less than you need for the week. There’s a small desk and dresser off to the side, and a twin size bed with a side table sitting next to the headboard. The sight of the small, but very neat room is comforting after the mix of emotions you’d spent your afternoon with, and you find yourself wanting to just fall against the comforter and end your day there.

So, you do, quickly changing into your sleep clothes and doing your nightly routine, you let all the anxiety and the interaction with the man down the hall fall from your mind as you slip under the covers and rest your head against the pillow. It’s early, but you figure you’ve had enough adventure for the day. Plus, you still have the next few days left to spend in the city.

Sleep comes easy to you, so easy that you’re shocked awake the next morning at the sound of loud footsteps coming down the hall, and then a slam of a door. Lifting up from your bed, you glance at the clock on the table next to you and let out a small groan. You hadn’t been planning on taking up Irene’s offer of breakfast at 7, but now that you were awake you figured you might as well do exactly that. The grumble your stomach lets out seems to further settle the idea to get ready and go downstairs into your head.

The banging across the hall continues, and you know the sound belongs to the man from down the hall. Not wanting another interaction like the day before you decide to wait for the sound of the door opening and steps retreating down the hall, knowing the man has returned to his own room before you head into the bathroom with your things to get ready. You throw on a simple outfit for the day, doing all your daily necessities. The smell of cologne fills the small space, and normally it would be something that would irritate you – someone else treating a space as only their own with no other thought of anyone else who might occupy it – but the scent is pleasant enough and you decide to leave it be. When you’re done, you listen again for the sound of footsteps, but there are none.

Opening the door, you peak down the hall. The door at the end is shut, but you still cross the space to your room quicker than normal, opening the door and slipping inside. Just as you grab your shoes and anything else you plan to use throughout the day, your phone finding its spot in your pocket, you hear a door open again. You listen quietly as the man moves down the hall to the stairs, only slipping into the hallway when you know you won’t run into him. He’s already disappeared into the front room when you yourself reach the stairs and start the trek down.

When you reach the bottom floor, Irene stands just across the room in what you realize is the dining area. There’s a jingling as the front door opens, and you look over just in time to see a head of dark brown hair escaping through the entrance.

There’s something odd about you and this stranger avoiding each other, but you don’t let it cloud your thoughts. You don’t even know the man, and don’t have any care to get to know him.

Irene spots you lingering by the stairs and waves you over. “Have you met the other guest yet?”

You smile as you walk over to sit at the table situated in the room. The space isn’t very large, only big enough to hold the essentials of a kitchen and a table that seats six, but the feel of it all is very intimate. It also smells terrific, the smell of sausage and pastries filling the room. You’re suddenly grateful that you chose this place over any of the others, weird neighbors be damned.

“He’s nice, is he not?”

You purse your lips as Irene places a plate loaded to the brim with various breakfast items. The sight makes your stomach grumble again and you laugh in an attempt to conceal it. “I haven’t exactly met him yet.”

Irene frowns. “You haven’t?” She tsks. “He’s very friendly, but he never eats breakfast here.”

“Never?” You glance up from your plate. “How long has he been here?”

“Only few days, but he comes once a year and stays here rather than big fancy hotel.”

You nod, taking a bite of the croissant on your plate. You close your eyes giving a small hum of pleasure at the taste of the buttery pastry. “He’s missing out.”

“You’ll meet him soon enough, I think.” Irene waves her hand around as she takes her own seat, carefully digging into her own plate of food.

You continue breakfast with polite conversation. Irene asks why you decided to come to Italy, and you fib your answer a little, explaining it was just a need to get away for a bit. It wasn’t entirely inaccurate, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to reopen the fresh wound that was your current relationship status.

When you’re done, you bid Irene farewell for the day and head out on your own. The sun is warm as it beams down on your face, the air slightly cool from the canals. You plan to just walk around the city for most of the day, not having much else to do until the afternoon when the gallery you had opted to go to opens.

For a few hours you simply meander around the city, stepping into shops with clothes that cost far too much money, but you try them on anyway. You find a nice place for lunch, deciding you’ll come back to try something else for dinner after the gallery. The day all goes fairly quick, but you head back to Vera Ospitalità with a grin permanently etched into your features.

Irene is not at the front desk when you walk in. It’s getting fairly late in the day and after the large and filling meal you had chosen to eat for dinner, you decide that you’ll end your day with a nice bath and then head to bed, excited for the boat ride you had booked for the next day.

That plan is immediately foiled when you climb the stairs and hear the shower already running. You don’t have any idea how long it’s been occupied, but you figure he has to be done sometime soon and choose to wait in your room until he is.

Fifteen minutes pass before you realize it, and the shower is still going. It occurs to you that all of the hot water must be gone now and you feel a bit frustrated at your thought of a nice night being ruined by a man who doesn’t know how to shower quickly. Trying not to let your frustration get the best of you, you snatch up your towel and storm out of your room to stand in front of the door across from you. There’s some steam coming from the crack between the door and the floor, but you ignore it as you knock on the door.

There’s a noise that sounds something like a grunt, and then the shower shuts off. You listen to shuffling, a rumple of clothes, and then the door swings open and there, for the first time since you arrived in the tiny hotel, you finally come face to face with the stranger who’s been living down the hall from your room. It suddenly hits you why he had been so eager to avoid you the day before and ;told you that he must’ve been trying to avoid you this morning too, obviously trying not to make his presence known.

Harry Styles stands in front of you in a pair of loose shorts with a towel hanging from his hand, his hair dripping down onto his forehead. His tattoos are on full display, the pair of ferns peaking up from his waistband, and his skin is glistening from all the water he hadn’t been given the chance to properly wipe off. Steam pours out through the doorway and the sudden heat of it sends a shiver down your spine.

You don’t realize you’re staring until your eyes meet his and he cocks a brow. “You’re not going to be a creep and ask me for a photo, are you?”

His tone is dangerous, and he’s got an accusatory look plastered on his face. It makes something in you want to snap back, that anger from not being able to take a bath like you wanted still lingering a bit, but instead you stand there, trying to think of the best words to say back to the man in front of you who clearly thinks you’re here for something other than a nice vacation. Every possible thing you had wanted to say before the door had opened has suddenly disappeared from your brain, only to be replaced with the slight shock of your current situation. Your mouth opens and snaps closed one time, then again, as the words you want to say struggle to fall from your mouth.

Eventually, you hold up your towel.

Harry’s head tilts to the side, his gaze curious. “So, you’re not just renting the crappiest hotel in the entire city in order to get some sort of insider photos?”

You frown, the shakiness you had felt disappearing as you think about Irene and her hospitality. “It’s not a crappy hotel.”

Harry smiles, but you’re sure it’s just because he’s amused and not because you’re doing a nice thing by defending Irene. “No, but it sure isn’t popular and nobody ever comes here. I’m always by myself when I come – Irene makes sure of it.”

You remember what Irene had told your over the phone when you asked about booking.

We always have a room open.

You purse your lips and try holding your head a little higher. “I’m not some crazed fan. I’m just here for a nice vacation.”

Harry looks you over. “Nice vacation? You don’t seem like the type.”

“It…” You stumble over what to say, trying to get a grip on the current situation you’re in with a half-naked famous popstar standing in front of you. He leans against the doorway, an arm propped against his head, and you swallow. “It was spontaneous.”

Harry chuckles, shaking his head. “You still don’t seem like the type.”

“You don’t know me,” you manage to say, feeling slightly offended by his words, but Harry just grins.

“And I don’t care to.” He claps his hands together, the sound muffled by the towel still gripped in his hand. “Pleasantries aside, I’d appreciate if you didn’t interrupt my shower next time, and also if you continued to not take photos of me whatsoever.”

You open your mouth to reply, but Harry has already pushed himself off the doorway and is marching down the hall before you can even think of what to say back to him. He doesn’t even bother turning back to look at you, just walks into the room and slams the door shut.

You wince at the sound, trying to still get a grip at what just occurred. You step into the still hot bathroom with its steamed-up mirror and slightly wet floor, but you disregard it as you move to the tub. You turn the handle for the hot water and aren’t surprised to find that it’s ice cold. You let it run for a minute, trying to see if it’ll warm up even the slightest, but you give up and shut it off when it remains cold.

You realize that not only had Harry left you with no hot water to take a shower in, but he also hadn’t bothered to ask for your name. When your head hits the pillow minutes later, choosing just to settle in for the night, you let the exhaustion of the day wash over you and fall asleep easily, though the irritation with Harry settles in well into the early morning.

Your alarm goes off early after a couple of hours, waking you up well before you know Harry will be awake. You quickly gather up your clothes and head to the bathroom, turning on the shower and hopping in before another second passes.

You take your time getting ready, lingering under the hot water for as long as you can before getting out and slowly going over each of your tasks in your morning ritual. You’re in the middle of finishing up your hair when there’s a knock on the door.

“Yes?” you call out, already knowing it couldn’t be anybody but your neighbor down the hall.

“It’s Harry,” he says, muffled through the door. It occurs to you that he never actually told you his name the night before, but you know he’s assumed you already knew who he was before. He wouldn’t be entirely wrong in that assumption. “Are you almost done?”

You grin at the turn of events. “Almost.”

It’s another ten minutes before you’re done. You had expected Harry to have turned around and headed back to his own room to wait, something you would have done if you had been in his place, but when you open the door he’s standing there across the hall, leaning against the wall next to your own room. It takes you by surprise, seeing him standing there. He’s already dressed for the day, a nice, knitted shirt on with brown shorts to match and checkered vans decorating his feet. The only thing out of place is his hair, still a mess of curls from where he hadn’t had the chance to comb them down yet.

You offer a smile as you step out of the bathroom. “All yours.”

Harry has a sour expression on his face as you pass by to get into your room. You don’t bother giving him any more attention than that, though, not keen on him accusing you of anything else.

At 7 you head downstairs. Irene is already settled into the kitchen with a plate full of food waiting for you. She smiles when she spots you. “Sleep well?”

You nod. “Finally met Harry.”

“Oh, Harry!” Irene claps her hands together. “Isn’t he so lovely?”

You hum in response. “Lovely,” you try to hide the sarcasm in your voice, “that is definitely the word I would use.”

Irene’s eyes flicker behind you, and she brightens at the sight of Harry coming down the stairs. “There he is! Harry, come have breakfast.”

Harry appears, hair now perfectly in place, walking around the table to greet Irene with a hello and a kiss to her cheek. “Can’t, love. Have places to be.”

“Oh, stay for a bit. It’s too early to have anywhere important to be. Talk with us,” Irene urges, gesturing to you already seated at the table.

You give an exaggerated nod. “Yeah, talk to us, Harry.”

Harry forces a smile onto his face. “Only for a bit, yeah?”

Your frown is immediate as Harry takes the seat across from you. You had remembered what Irene had said the day before, about Harry never joining her for breakfast, and that had led you to expect him to decline Irene’s offer and head out for the day, but now you were stuck with him sitting there in front of you.

“What are the plans for today?” Irene asks, seemingly unaware of the tension at the table.

Harry gives her a genuine smile as he steals a roll from the plate she had placed in the middle of the table and takes a bite. “Goin’ to wander the city a bit, might take a nice boat ride.”

“I’m doing a boat ride too,” you chime in. The look Harry throws you is something similar to a glare, but you just smile, knowing you managed to get under his skin already this morning before he had even tried to touch yours.

The rest of the conversation is tense, with Irene staying blissfully unaware to the dirty looks you and Harry throw at each other. A part of you wonders how you can act like this with a complete stranger, but when you accidentally kick his shin under the table, and Harry returns a swift kick of his own, the thought is completely overshadowed by the irritation you feel when you look at him.

When Harry finishes his roll a few minutes later, he delivers a quick peck to Irene’s cheek and heads out, offering no goodbye to you. When he’s gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding and stand from your chair.

“Thank you for breakfast, Irene.” You make to move for the stairs, planning to take a little time to yourself before your planned boat ride later, but Irene stops you.

“He is better once you get used to him,” she tells you.

Your nose crinkles at that, wondering how much she actually had caught on to when it came to you and Harry. “I just think he doesn’t like me very much.”

She waves her hand. “He did not like me very much at first either, but he warms up in time.”

With a final nod, you head upstairs. The hours pass quickly as you find random things to do – playing games on your phone, reading a book. You had briefly wondered about calling your friends back home, curious if they had thought about you since you had last spoke to them, but you eventually decide against it when it’s time to head out for your boat ride.

The air is warm when you step outside, and the place where you’re supposed to go is only just down the block. There’s a delightful breeze that blows through your hair as you walk down the sidewalk, admiring the city as it moves through its daily ventures. You reach the dock you need to go to much easier than you had the Bed & Breakfast, but your stomach immediately drops as soon as you step on the pier.

Harry is standing with who you assume is the skipper of the boat you’ll be on. He has an impatient look on his face and his arms are crossed as he taps his foot against the wooden planks. When he spots you walking down the pier, a look of realization crosses his features.

“You’re going on a boat ride?” he asks, his brows raised above the rim of his sunglasses. “This boat ride?”

You look at the skipper and give a not-so-confident nod.

“Ah! You’re the girl who booked me so late the other day!” he announces almost proudly, and you offer an apologetic smile, choosing to ignore a clearly frustrated Harry.

“I’m so sorry about all that, it was so last minute—”

“Do not worry, darling. It seems to be my fault.” He gestures between you and Harry. “I seem to have made the mistake and made a double booking on accident. Either the two of you may ride the boat together and I’ll give half off, or one of you can leave and I’ll give full refund. I am booked full rest of day.”

You can feel Harry glaring at you through his glasses. “I’m not giving this up,” you tell him, feeling your own irritation grow at the sight of his.

“Well, neither am I.”

The skipper glances between the two of you before giving a delightful shout. “Two of you it will be! Let’s get going.”

You and Harry give the same exasperated look to the skipper, but he’s already climbing on the small speed boat, waving for you to follow.

Harry looks to you. “Ladies first.”

You don’t bother with a thank you as you climb onto the boat, Harry not far behind, and find a seat on the small bench available. With no other place to sit, Harry is forced to sit next to you on the bench clearly fit to hold two people intimately. Neither of you say anything as the skipper starts the engine and pulls away from the pier and into the lagoon you were meant to be traveling.

For a moment, you regret not just walking away and letting Harry have the boat ride to himself. You can’t imagine being able to enjoy it when he won’t even look at you even though his shoulder and thigh are flush against your own as you both attempt to fit on the bench. You still want to make the most of it, so you turn to look at Harry, deciding to attempt to show some of the same hospitality you had been experiencing so much of in Italy

“Do people really stay in the same hotels as you to get photos?”

“What?” His sunglasses have fallen slightly down his nose, and his eyes are visible just over the rim.

You swallow down any frustrating feelings you might have against Harry right now. “Last night, you accused me of being in the B&B so I could get a photo of you—”

“Sorry about that,” Harry mumbles out, pushing his glasses back in place. “Shouldn’t have come at you so quick.”

You can tell that some of the tension has left his body and that makes you feel a bit better about being stuck with him now. “Do people really do that, though?”

You wish he had taken the glasses off now, just so you could see the expression hidden behind them. You can’t tell what he’s thinking with his eyes hidden behind the dark rims.

“I’ve been doing this for over ten years,” he finally says, “I’ve had people break into my home, fans have snuck into my tour bus, and I’ve been chased down the street. You checking into the same place I am staying, a place that is normally empty year-round, and trying to snap a cheeky photo would not surprise me in the slightest.”

You suck in a breath. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I see that now.” Harry smiles as he stands up and leans against the boat, looking out over the water. You look over the design on the back of his shirt, the image of a horse clearly visible. “Sorry for using up all the hot water last night.”

Your eyes flit to the skipper standing at the wheel, but he pays neither of you any attention as he hums to himself. “It’s okay.”

“Also sorry for not asking for your name since you clearly already know mine.” He looks back over his shoulder at you. “So, what is it?”

“What?”

A smile. “Your name, love.”

“Oh.” You give up your name, falling from your lips as you remember the bit of hurt you felt the night before upon realizing he hadn’t asked for it then. It had been a strange feeling, wanting a complete stranger to know your name. especially when you and said stranger hadn’t gotten on so well, but now that he had asked for it you felt a sense of accomplishment.

Harry repeats it, his accent lilting something sweet. “S’a lovely name.”

He’s still looking at you when you say nothing, and it leaves you with a strange feeling. You try to think of what to say next, and when it comes to you, you almost laugh.

You hold out your hand. “Truce?”

The smile Harry gives you takes up the entirety of his face, dimples proudly displayed on his cheeks. He takes your hand in his own, his palm warm in yours. “Truce,” he confirms.

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you for the rest of the ride, only interrupted by the sounds of the boat on the water and the skipper’s humming. Even with all your misadventures, you couldn’t deny that the city of Venice was gorgeous. And in some way, everything had seemed to work out for you so far, even creating something that resembled the beginnings of a friendship with Harry after a rough start.

When the boat pulls up to the pier, you realize that you feel more comfortable around Harry. No longer does he intimidate you like he had when you first laid eyes on him, but rather you feel easier with him, like you’re able to strike a conversation with him with no worries at all.

So, you do try to talk to him as you step off the boat, but he apparently had the same thought and the two of you laugh as you talk over each other.

“You first,” you tell him, biting your lip to hide your smile.

“I, uh,” Harry stutters over his words as he removes his glasses, looking up and down the pier to keep his eyes on something other than you. “I was just going to ask if you had eaten lunch already.”

“I think it’s well past lunch time.” You look down at the watch adorning your wrist. “But no, I only ate breakfast.”

Harry’s eyes flash to you, and the green of them is startling under the sunlight. “Would you like to go for a late lunch?”

You much prefer this friendly Harry to the one you had first been introduced to, and you understand that there’s a garner of trust between the two of you now. “I’d love to.”

Harry leads you down the pier and back onto the concrete sidewalks around Venice. It’s settling well into the afternoon, the sun beginning to drift just below the tops of the buildings around the city. You don’t bother asking where you’re heading off to, trusting that Harry will have a great choice in wherever you go.

Eventually, after walking a few blocks, still basking in that comfortable silence from the boat, Harry stops at a door with a sign overhead that you don’t understand. He opens the door and waves you in.

The moment you step inside, you’re hit with the smell of pasta and bread hitting your nose. You breathe it in deep and the hostess at the front smiles as she watches you do so.

“First time?” she asks, her accent thick.

You nod, jumping a little when Harry appears next to you and places his hand on your arm.

“This is one of my favorite places,” he tells you, gesturing with two fingers to the hostess. “They have the best spaghetti.”

The place isn’t as packed as you would expect it to be, most likely because of your arrival between lunch and dinner, but there’s still enough people for it to feel a bit crowded. The hostess walks you over to a booth in the corner, a bit hidden away from the other patrons in the restaurant, and you know it’s because of who you’re with.

The popstar in question sits across from you but doesn’t bother grabbing a menu for himself. “Wine okay with you?”

You nod and wait for the waitress to come over. When she does, offering up her name in a sweet lilting accent, Harry orders the wine and you give a thankful nod as she walks away before turning back to Harry. “So, the spaghetti?”

Harry lets out a low moan. “It’s the best. I come here every time I visit. Practically a regular when I’m in Italy.”

“It’s that good?”

“Better than good.”

You leave your menu resting in front of you, untouched until the waitress returns with a jug of wine and two glasses. She hands one off to each of you before topping them off with the jug.

“Your usual, Mr. Styles?”

The question sends Harry beaming. “Please. And she’ll have the same,” he gestures to you, and you give a soft confirmation.

Once the waitress has left, Harry takes a long sip of his wine before clapping his hands together. “So, what brings you to Italy?”

This Harry sitting in front of you is much different than the one you had met face to face for the first time the night before. There’s something softer about him, as if the edge was taken off the moment he put his hand in yours earlier. You like this Harry more, you think, with his giddy smile and soft giggle.

You remember how you had lied to Irene when she had asked you why you had traveled to Italy, but something tells you not to do that with Harry. “My boyfriend dumped me.”

Harry’s face drops, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you wave a hand in front of you before he can get it out.

“I’m already over it, but there were some things he said that made me rethink a lot of stuff.”

“Like what?” His gaze is curious, and it makes you want to tell him everything going on in your brain, how you’re still upset and hurt, but want to feel free while you still have the time to here in Italy.

Instead, you sugarcoat it a little. “Just stuff about how he missed the girl I used to be – more fun and care-free.”

“Are you not that girl?”

You shrug, your hand playing with the stem of your wine glass before you lift it to take a sip. “I don’t know, but I liked the sound of being adventurous and doing something unexpected so—”

“So, you booked a trip to Italy?” Harry grins. “That’s quite impressive.”

“What is?”

“Deciding to just up and go to a different country for no other reason than you want to. I think you’re a bit more outgoing than your boyfriend gives you credit for.”

You scrunch up your nose. “Ex-boyfriend.”

Harry smiles into his glass. “Right. Ex-boyfriend.”

Your food arrives not long after that, two giant plates of spaghetti with pieces of garlic bread on the side. Harry laughs at your surprised expression at the sight of the amount of food now sitting in front of you.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to feed an army.”

Harry picks up his fork, stabbing it into the noodles and twisting it around. “Try it.”

You follow his lead, picking up your own fork. When you take a bite of the pasta, you shut your eyes as the taste coats your mouth. “Oh my god.”

“I told you.”

The two of you eat practically in silence, savoring the taste of your meal and not letting the flow of conversation interrupt your eating. Neither of you finish your plate, Harry coming much closer to doing so then you are and you’re left trying to finish the still half full jug of wine in the middle of the table.

You don’t know when you start feeling like telling Harry more about yourself, maybe after your third glass of wine, but eventually you’re telling him all about the fear you had of coming to Italy.

“What do you mean you almost didn’t come here?”

You giggle a little. “I stepped off the train and almost turned right back around to get on.”

“Why?”

You give an exaggerated shrug. “My own brain? I don’t know.” You look down at your glass of wine. “Sometimes I feel like everyone’s opinions of me are right, y’know? Maybe I am that girl that just doesn’t do anything except work and go home.”

“I get that feeling.”

Your eyes shoot up to look at Harry. “You do?”

Harry gives a lazy raise of his shoulders. “Of course. I have reporters and paparazzi up my ass at practically all hours of the day. Sometimes I wish I could scream at them that I’m not everything they think I am, nor do I want to be.”

You let out a snicker and Harry raises an eyebrow. “Sorry. I almost forgot I was sitting with a famous popstar.”

Harry groans, but there’s a playful look on his face as he wags a finger at you. “That’s cheeky.”

You decide to keep going, seeing how far you can push it. “My friends are going to love it when I tell them that I got to hang out with the Harry Styles. I’m pretty sure one of them used to have a poster of you in their bedroom.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. Another had the cardboard cutout.”

That sends Harry into a fit of giggles, causing you to follow his lead. You both are a little too tipsy by this point, and the jug is nearly finished.

It doesn’t occur to you how long you had been inside the restaurant until you walk outside and see that the sky has turned dark. The blocks are lit by streetlights, and under them Harry looks like something out of a dream. You don’t mean to lean into him as you walk back to the B&B, but you do so in order to try and keep your balance and Harry doesn’t seem to mind with the way he tosses his arm around your shoulders lazily.

“Tonight was fun,” he tells you, trying not to walk faster than you do. The position is hard to keep as you walk, but neither of you pull away. “’S been a while since I’ve done something with someone like this.”

You smile at his admission. “You mean you don’t go out somewhere with a complete stranger at least once a week?” You tsk. “You’ve gotta get out more, Mr. Styles.”

The B&B is quiet when you arrive back, and you feel like a teenager again as you sneak past the front desk and up the stairs, trying your best to keep quiet since you both know Irene has already gone off to bed. Your exe’s words briefly flit through your brain, and you wonder what he’d say if he saw you now – drunkenly stumbling around in a mysterious city with a man you’ve known barely longer than a day.

When your foot catches on a step, Harry is there behind you to steady you before you can fall forward. His hands catch your hips, helping keep your balance, but rather than it be something that would send your stomach in knots, the gesture makes you laugh out as you think about how funny it would have been to fall face first into the carpeted floor.

You clamp a hand over your mouth, staring behind at Harry who looks like he’s barely keeping himself from laughing. You maneuver your hand so it’s just your index finger pressed against your lips, a soft shhh falling past them. Harry nods, pretending to zip his lips shut and locking them, before throwing the pretend key over his shoulder. The action threatens to send you into another fit of giggles, but you manage to hold it in as you take the rest of the steps two at a time.

The boards creak beneath your feet as you walk to your door. Turning, you just about run into Harry, your hands flying up to press against his chest in an attempt to keep from stumbling into him.

“Sorry,” you stutter out, taking a step back and resting your back against your door. “Wine’s getting to me.”

Harry smiles, and in the barely-there light of the hallway, you think you can see something playful glittering in his eyes. “S’getting to me too.”

You suddenly remember the feel of his hands on your hips moments earlier, and the way he had kept his arm wrapped around you the whole way back. There’s that knot in your stomach that hadn’t appeared before, slowly making itself known now as you try to think of what to say next.

Harry speaks first, his voice low and his words slurred. “I had fun tonight.”

“So you said.”

“How long are you staying?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Tomorrow is my last full day. I leave the next morning.”

Harry looks a bit disappointed by that, but it’s quickly replaced by something else. “Y’know, I think I have a terrific way for you to prove to everyone when you go back that you still know how to have a good time.”

You swallow when Harry takes a step closer, your back pressing further into your door. “And what’s that?”

A smile, one that’s devious and just a little bit convincing, “Let me kiss you?

You bite your lip, trying to get ahold of the situation. This is not at all how you expected your vacation to go, but you can’t help but agree that it is the best way to prove to everyone and yourself that you’re not who they think you are.

You realize that this is it – your moment to prove to yourself that everyone else was wrong. How could you not be adventurous when you’re in a random country all by yourself, about to kiss a boy you’ve never met? That’s the perfect thing to do to prove everyone wrong.

And maybe there’s something in the way that Harry’s advances make you feel that adds to you giving a soft yes.

When Harry kisses you, it’s just as you would have imagined it. And then somehow, it’s more. His lips are soft against your own, the distant taste of strawberry chapstick and the wine from earlier lingering on them and you want to savor that taste, burn the memory of those flavors together into your brain. His hands find your hips again, pressing into them unlike he had earlier. There’s intention behind the grip, the promise of something more to come.

You clumsily reach for the doorknob behind you, not daring to move your lips away from Harry’s. The door falls open and almost takes you with it as you stumble back, barely catching yourself by gripping onto Harry’s shoulders. You press your mouth back to his, feeling like he could swallow you whole in that moment.

You reach blindly for the zipper on his shorts, your hand brushing over the tent forming there and causing Harry to let out a hiss at the friction. You smile against his mouth when he reaches down, taking the matter into his own hands and unzipping his shorts as he kicks off his shoes. You follow his lead and let your shoes meet his own in a pile on the floor. The pile only grows as you both precede to strip, and when you’re left staring at Harry’s naked body, a small gasp falls from your lips.

You reach out to run a hand across the butterfly inked into his stomach before letting it trial down to tease one of the ferns against his hip. You remember them from the night before, half concealed by the shorts he had kept on, but now having them on full display sendsa shudder through you.

“You’re pretty,” you tell him softly, and he laughs.

“So are you,” he replies, taking your face in his hands and kissing you, gently pushing you back onto your bed.

You had almost forgotten about the twin size bed in your room until you fall against it. You want to laugh at the size of it compared to your two bodies collapsing onto it, but Harry rests himself on top of you and attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking a deep mark into your skin.

One hand finds his hair, raking your fingers through it and tearing a groan from Harry’s chest, while the other scrapes at his back, your nails threatening to leave red scratches all over his skin. Harry lingers against your neck for only a moment before he’s trailing down your body, planting kisses against your skin as he goes.

When he reaches your hip, he digs his fingers into your stomach as he leaves a kiss in the curve there before he plants himself between your thighs. The bed is squeaking in protest to all of this movement, but it’s not bad enough for you to want to stop.

Harry kisses at your folds before bringing his fingers up to spread them. Both your hands are tangled in his curls now, tightening their hold as Harry’s tongue finds your clit. You squirm as he presses his mouth against you, coaxing a few moans from you before you remember that you’re not alone in the building.

“Harry,” you gasp out as your hips buck against his mouth, “the bed.”

You don’t think he hears you at first, the squeaking growing louder with each move he makes that causes your hips to come up off the mattress, but then his hands are under your thighs. Slowly, without moving his mouth away from you, Harry slides you off the bed. He meets the floor first, a bit more gracefully than you do as you slip off the bed and onto the floor. Harry laughs when you let out a yelp as your ass hits the carpeted floor.

You’re face to face with him now, and there’s slick covering his mouth. Without thinking, you grab his face and kiss him, letting your own taste wash over your tongue. Harry groans into your mouth, the vibration moving through your chest.

“I wanna taste you,” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“Swear I won’t be able to hold it in much longer.” He’s breathing heavily and that only makes you smile something wicked that sends Harry’s brain into overload.

“Just a little taste,” you mutter before pushing at his chest so he falls back onto the carpet. You move between his legs like he had only minutes ago, your hand coming up to grip the base of his dick.

Harry lets out a hiss as you wrap your hand around him, giving a slow pump. When you lick the tip, though, he can barely hold back the moan he lets out and you laugh a little.

“Good?” you ask, taking him into your mouth finally and Harry feels like he’s slowly losing the will to function, wondering if he can even get the words out.

“Good, yeah. Yeah. S’good.”

You give him a few more pumps, moaning against him when he brings a hand up to wrap in your hair, but you don’t want him to lose control before he can get inside of you, so you restrain yourself and pull back.

Harry gives you a pitiful look when you pull away, only to be replaced with something much more eager when you begin to climb on top of him. He lays back against the carpet, grabbing your hips as you guide yourself onto his cock.

You both let out a mixture of sounds as you slide down onto him, letting yourself get used to the feel of it. After a minute, you rock back onto him, and Harry takes that as a good sign. Before you know it, he’s lifting his hips off the floor to fuck up into you, turning you into a whining mess as you chase your orgasm. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and you’re sure that Irene must’ve heard you at this point, but you don’t care anymore as you press your hands down onto Harry’s stomach and try to meet the pace he’s set.

“Gonna cum,” he tells you, but you could already tell with the way his thrusts have become more frantic and sloppier. You can only nod, falling against his chest as you feel the beginnings of your own orgasm start to take over.

When yours hits, you cry out into Harry’s chest. Harry doesn’t stop, though, instead wrapping his arms around you as he chases his own. It only takes a couple more thrusts before he’s pulling out of you and moaning into your hair. You can feel the hot spurts hit your stomach, dripping down onto his due to your position. The two of you stay like that, his arms still wrapped tight around you, holding you to him.

“Harry?” you finally say after a few minutes of you trying to catch your breath. You can feel the effects of the wine from earlier still mixed with the aftermath of your orgasm, and it’s all making your brain feel a bit hazy.

“Yeah?”

You roll off of Harry, the heat of being pressed to him becoming a little too much, but he doesn’t let you go, and you find yourself laying sideways, Harry’s arms still wrapped around you as you lay face to face. “Do you usually fuck random strangers you barely know in Italy?”

Harry lets out a soft giggle, one of his hands beginning to rub at your back. “You’d be the first.”

You reach a hand up to run through his curls, pushing them back off his forehead. “Glad to know I’m not alone there,” you mumble. “So, what do we do now?”

Harry shrugs the best he can in his position on the floor. “We clean up, try to fit in your tiny bed, and figure it out in the morning?”

You hum in response. “I don’t think I can face Irene in the morning.”

“Oh, that woman sleeps like the dead. N’way she heard.”

“Still.”

Harry thinks for a moment. “How about I go downstairs in the morning, grab us some of Irene’s lovely breakfast, and convince her to go out for the day so you can be free of the embarrassment of her hearing us having really amazing vacation sex?”

You roll your eyes. “Then it’ll be obvious what we’re doing.”

“Yes, but I think Irene would appreciate the heads up before she’s wondering why the boards are creaking so badly the whole day.”

You smack your hand against Harry’s chest and a laugh bubbles up from it. “Are you saying you’re going to have me spend my last day in Italy locked away in a bedroom getting my guts rearranged?”

“That’s one way to describe it,” he laughs.

You hum again. “Y’know, I thought I hated you this morning.”

“That was kinda evident by the way you kicked me under the table at breakfast.”

You gasp. “That was an accident!”

“Ah, so you just wanted an excuse to play footsie, huh?”

You hit him again. “An accident, Harry.”

Harry laughs, pulling you further against him. You let out a yawn as you rest your head in the crook of his neck. “We should probably get up. I feel a bit gross.”

You hum in response, tickling Harry’s neck with the vibrations. You hear Harry say your name in an attempt to get your attention, but you’re already drifting off against his chest with the promise of him etched into your brain for when you wake up.

Harry figures he’ll get up in a bit rather than disturb you now, letting himself relax against you. He means to only lay there for a few minutes until he knows he can remove himself from you so he can clean up, but soon enough his eyelids are falling shut as he too drifts off to sleep.

[lipstickstainz]

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk.  Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.

[dourpeep]

IT WAS 2AM WHEN I SENT THAT SO I HELD BACK MY SIMPING FOR COLLEGE ALBEDO A LITTLE. tried not to send all my brainrot so I didn't just send a wall of text into your inbox LOL. Some others I thought of were:

- Mona giving astrology forecasts and compatibility readings in this au and Albedo may have asked her about the two of you

- Going to botanical gardens or museums with Albedo but for some reason it feels like a date even when it didn't intent to be. You tug on his sleeve now and then when you see something he might be interested in or even when it's something that excites you, and Albedo can't help but have a soft look in his eyes that he can share this moment with you! Somehow it results in the two of you holding hands - just so neither of you stray from each other of course - and eventually, intertwined fingers. You hear someone say that the two of you seem like a cute couple and you know Albedo heard it too, but neither of you say anything. You feel his hand squeeze yours a little tighter and respond in kind. The two of you are too embarrassed to look at each other but can't help the smiles on your faces.

- Lending Albedo some of your favourite books for pleasure reading and you've left tiny tabs on lines that you like. Perhaps this is before Albedo realizes his feelings so when he reads particularly romantic lines, he wonders if this is how he feels about you. Or did you mark these pages because you feel this way about someone? His stomach is in knots to the thought that you may be intrested in someone that isn't him and he settles for it just being prose.

WHAT YOU WROTE WAS SO CUTE AAA. THANK YOU FOR SIMPING FOR COLLEGE BEDO WITH ME!!

Tugging his hand and not letting go omg . . . you tend to just intertwine pinkies or play with his fingers absent-mindedly that Albedo becomes so accustomed to it so he starts to offer you his hands without a second thought.

WAIT. I gasped at Albedo being a cuddler. He's a little delirious when he first wakes up but you're so comfy that he hugs you a little tighter, asking if you've slept well. You try to reply while worrying about whether or not he can feel your heart thrumming in your chest.

What if Klee is staying with Albedo one night and the three of you fall asleep cuddled up together. Alice comes back early in the morning before any of you are awake and takes a picture. She sends it to Albedo later and he sets it as his phone's wallpaper.

Albedo staring at your lips winded me, thank you.

YES TO THE SWEATERS. I bet Albedo would have the softest and coziest sweaters too! Imagine it being a little cold out and you see Albedo across campus so you bound over to him and give him a hug. You nuzzle into him and mumble out a little 'hello' and say he's warm. You feel his laugh rumble through his chest while he greets you back, wrapping his arms around you

And I LOVE ALL YOUR HEADCANONS! I believe I found your blog around the time you posted Albedo's snort headcanon and it was too much for my heart!! I held tight to that headcanon and never let go lol. I also thought the science + college headcanons you had of him were really nice despite not being necessarily romantic!

Side note: I looked up that lobster fact and that's so cool!!

The Lobster Fact(tm) is my go-to ice breaker and it always fails. I'd imagine it's normally the same w/ Bedo OTL so sad...not many wish to know about potential lobster immortality.

I'm glad that you love the headcanons though!! I enjoy writing for Albedo so so much as you can tell ehe

That being said--if it makes you more comfy to send stuff in a few bursts of asks, I don't mind :DD I'll answer them as usual nodnod

OKIE DOKIE

-

"...Mona, yes?"

"Ah, I was expecting you to come around sooner or later, Kreideprinz."

Really, Albedo didn't mean to stumble upon the Astronomy major, but for some reason the thought of you has been on his mind and the campus' observatory just so happened to be on the way. With the meager hope that...maybe he'd find some sort of answer (in what, he wasn't really sure himself), there she was.

Luckily, she knew just what he was there for.

The moment that she twirls her hand with a wave, telling him that there isn't anything to worry about, the apprehension creeping within his chest at the thought of seeing you next-

disappeared.

It's not often that he turns to less orthodox methods, but he wouldn't lie. Knowing that--at least in Mona's opinion (which tended to be correct, anyway)--the two of you were undoubtly compatible? Something about how your constellations were intertwined...

In fact, Albedo turns a little theory around in his mind. Though based in old folktales, the idea that you gravitate towards those who are made of the very same stardust as yourself, suddenly made sense.

Or, perhaps he was just being hopeful.

-

Little does he know that you most definitely asked Mona about the same thing earlier that day.

-

AHHHHH BUT OF COURSE-

Any of those kinds of places--Botanical Gardens, Art Museums, Aquariums, Zoos, Museums in general--Any place where you're able to utterly lose yourself in your surroundings and look around in awe, really, are your go-to date outing destination!

Usually, it's just the two of you, maybe with Sucrose or Timaeus if it's for a particular class, as well as the occasional Klee in tow whenever Alice is busy with work.

But in this case, fingers interlocked, it's just the two of you on a impromptu trip to the art museum downtown after seeing a promotional banner about a new exhibit. Once inside, you rush along, Albedo trailing close behind with a light squeeze of your hand. The large area used for temporary exhibits isn't far from the entrance, so it's not long until you skid to a stop.

All along the walls are incredibly detailed oil paintings, the thin layered strokes glistening in the light. Albedo takes a moment to whisper to you about how oil paint works.

Due to the thinness of the paint and it's transparency, light passes through every carefully placed stroke, allowing for a unique sort of depth that isn't achievable with other painting media. You smile, the artificial light of the art exhibit making your features glow and Albedo can't help but wonder if you are like those paintings.

So complex, so carefully created in an image perfected with time. Your eyes search his and you say his name and Albedo clears his throat when he realizes he's been staring.

"Do you like this one?"

Ah, you must've assumed he took a liking to this particular painting.

His eyes shift back to it, taking in the sight of the balance of color, the composition, then back to you. He only stares a second longer before nodding.

Whether or not you realize the view he likes is you is something that he dwells on as you both make your way to the next painting.

-

If you had a penny for every time that someone comments on the way you compliment each other, you'd probably be able to pay off your tuition for next semester.

Okay, perhaps not, but the idea still stands.

You're only just at the end of the art exhibit when the security guard wishes the two of you a lovely date. Something about how young love is something to be treasured, something about how the two of you already seem so natural and comfortable in each other's presence.

Before you can mumble out an explanation, Albedo just squeezes your hand, gentle as always, and smiles.

It's a compliment, right? For someone to see how close you are, even if you really are just friends, is a good thing.

Ignoring the warmth that spreads over your cheeks, you smile and turn your head away shyly. Squeezing his hand back, the thought of what it'd be like if you were together crosses your mind.

-

Just as you lend books to him, he lends books to you. Surprisingly, this time it just so happens to be a poetry book--something that you expressed interest in a week ago but ended up not getting.

Within, he's left colorful notes with his neat, slanted writing.

Short discussions (presumably questions to himself) of what the poet must've been thinking, different possible scenarios, are peppered throughout the book. But one just so happens to catch your eye. Rather than a question, it's a statement. Simple, short, and...sweet.

'You carry the aura of the stars.'

The little yellow sticky note pasted beneath a love poem to the night sky stands out. Suppressing a flutter in your chest, you continue reading through the poem book with a few giggles at Albedo's musings until you find a note with most of the words crossed out.

It's entirely unlike him, the way that the dark ink scribbled over the words, making them illegible.

But at the bottom was a continued attempt--one you presume he was satisfied with by the way it lay pristine on the colorful paper.

'You look. I fail to speak.

Your mind, so brilliant as it is I wish to see behind To further appreciate the one I love.

I can only hope one day you shall let me in, So for now I wait patiently by your side.'

Who could he have written this for? You can't help but stare at the poetic attempt, knowing full well that Albedo seldom does something without meaning.

The book closes and you tuck it back on the shelf to ask about later.

-

AAAAA YESYESYESYES I LOVE THAT CUDDLE PILE W/ ALBEDO AND KLEE

Even though Albedo's a grade A student and certified genius (he's adamant in his denial, shaking his head and mumbling about how he just studies hard), he's not entirely a stickler for rules.

Well, that is, Aunt Alice's suggestion that Klee goes to bed by 9.

Instead, the three of you settle in the common room of Albedo's place in a bundle of pillows and blankets at the demands of a pillow fort.

The tv blinks on accompanied by the near silent click of the remote.

"What should we watch?"

Klee always ends up picking the movie. This time, she wants Alice in Wonderland, commenting on how the bunny is like her best friend Dodoco and the blonde girl on screen is named after mommy. Albedo doesn't bother correcting her, even though he knows quite well that dear, sweet Dodoco is a chinchilla.

Between sips of juice and a few mouthfuls of popcorn, the three of you fall asleep, Klee curled up besides you and Albedo's arm draped over you both.

Even when the sun is up in the sky, you sleep peacefully.

So, naturally, Aunt Alice has a spare key just in case something like this happens.

Immediately she's met with the sweetest view--her two kids (she's practically adopted Albedo as her own at this point) and--

Hiding a cheeky smile behind her hand, Alice can't help but sneak a little closer when she spies the way that you and Albedo somehow gravitated closer, his face buried in your hair and yours resting against his collar. Wedged between you with tousled hair, Klee snoozes peacefully.

She snaps a picture, followed by another, and another, and a fourth for good measures before meandering into the kitchen to prep something for breakfast.

Might as well let her three favorite people enjoy the comfort of sleep for a little longer...

You wake up the moment that Klee wiggles her way out of the blankets, nuzzling against the warmth radiating under your cheek.

Nice and cozy. Smells nice...wait.

Eyes fluttering open, you're met with a familiar birthmark and the nearly gone scent of Albedo's cologne.

You nearly pull away until the arm, now wrapped around your waist, pulls you closer accompanied by a satisfied sigh. Ah. You shut your eyes tight when you realize that Albedo's going to be asleep for at least another thirty minutes, resigning to your fate gladly.

Of course, Alice takes the opportunity to snap a few more pictures when you've finally fallen back asleep.

-

YES ALSO ALSO

Speaking of Albedo and sweaters and warm and also the just mentioned cologne. A little fun tidbit--not only are you familiar with the scent of his cologne because he wears it often, but it (in this au) is actually one that you picked out some time back. You probably were at the store together smelling some of the perfumes when you came across one that you were pleasantly surprised by.

Specifically, something that's lightly floral, a little warm but sweet with a hint of earthiness.

The pros? It fits Albedo perfectly! It also kinda sticks well and his place faintly smells of it.

The cons?? Well...you're embarrassed to say that hugging Albedo tends to drag on a little longer than anticipated because it's just such a comforting scent-

Not because you associate it with Albedo or anything-

Ehe

Man I really went to town again, didn't I?? Well, I'm glad that you enjoy my headcanons :DDD Albedo just seems like such a sweet person??? Like endearing in a way that just is...him. If that makes sense.

Brain go brrrrrr

I'll admit that my favorite headcanons for Bedo are mundane and domestic ones though! Like these! Just the little moments where there's nothing really going on except for him and you and ahhhh yesyesyes

Okay that's all-

[xmalfoyweasleyx]

Infuriating- D.M (smut)

Summary: Draco is mean to you, he always is. But it turned you on, it made you go crazy. What you didn’t know is that it was obvious. What you didn’t know is that Draco knew. And it made him want to destroy your innocence.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT!, cursing, innocence kink, dom!draco, choking, praising, daddy kink and slapping

A/n: I absolutely LOVE this! I love the story line behind all the filthy stuff lol.

Words: 2k

He was a git. He was mean to you the whole time, for years already. You never knew otherwise, you were used to it. He pushes you, he yells mean things like "silly Y/H" or "stupid little girl" or he humiliates you in front of everyone.

But it did something to you. Those mean words and actions, it made your stomach tingle. Something about it made you crave him, it made you want him.

It turned you on.

You didn't know what it was but every mean word, it did hurt your feelings, but it made you wet.

Yup, there was definitely something seriously wrong with you.

Even after what just had happened. You sat in potions, thinking about the event that took place only 10 minutes ago. He literally pushed you on the floor when you tried to walk in the classroom. "Get out of my way" he said while pushing you.

You fell, your head smacked on the cold floor. You were mad this time, so so so mad.

"Fucking Malfoy! You're... your'e.." you tried to come up with a word to describe it, but failed. The anger overtook your body but the familiar butterflies in your belly were there too. It confused you.

Okay, it's not rocket science, you're just in love with the stupid little douche. But why? That was the big question. He was horrible to you.

"Infuriating? Is that the word you're looking for darling?" he answered, adding a little wink in synchrony with the typical smirk. It made you gasp. Did he just wink? Did he just say darling?

It took you a while to obtain. And now you sat here, in potions. Still so confused. Did he want you to get bent out of shape?

You sighed looking at the Slytherin boy, his light hair perfectly styled, his eyes focusing on professor Snape, while writing with his oh so perfect hands. Oh what those hands could do to me, those long fingers...

Fucking hell, why couldn't you just feel those things for some nice boy, someone who didn't push you on the freaking floor!

"Miss y/n, is mister Malfoy here more important than my class?" you heard Snape who was standing right in front of you. Where did he come from?

The whole class looked at you. This was the most embarrassing thing ever. Your face got red immediately.

"I-I-I'm sorry, sir" you mumbled.

"You can write an essay for me as punishment y/n" Snape ordered.

"WHAT? Just because of not paying attention for a second?" you snapped. Snape furrowed his eyebrows.

"You'd like detention instead?" he warned.

"I just mean, this isn't fair sir!" you trembled.

Smart. He's so angry now. "Detention at 5" he sighed.

"Of course she couldn't take her eyes off me, what a pathetic slut" Draco suddenly screamed for the whole class.

God you once dreamt he said that to you while he was pounding into you, but you didn't want it here, not in front of the whole class. They all laughed. It was horrible and you wanted to cry.

"Detention for you too Malfoy" Snape added.

Malfoy gave him a glare, squeezing the parchment in front of him harshly, trying to control himself, to not punch the professor in the face.

He looked at you, your eyes met and he saw the tear falling down. You dried the tear as quickly as you could.

You swore you saw a glimpse of guilt in his eyes.

*

5 pm

You were scribbling faster than ever, deeply concentrating on your work, trying to end this detention as fast as you can.

And then you heard the door close. Fast footsteps, walking to the desk next to you. Before you could look, you already smelled him. A big wave of the expensive cologne filled up your nose.

He didn't look at you. He was obviously not happy to be here and glared at the parchment in front of him.

"You're still staring y/l/n, didn't learn your lesson?" he hissed.

You glanced away as fast as possible, not answering him.

It made you nervous. You fidgeted with your skirt while tapping the table with your other hand.

"Stop it!!" he snapped. It scared you to hell, it almost made you fell of your chair. You flinched while shutting your eyes.

"I'm sorry" he whispered.

Dit he just...

Apologize?

“Why do you always act like this? What did I do to you? Did I do something wrong in the past?” you asked, not knowing where the courage came from.

He stood up from his chair, walking towards yours. To your surprise, he sat down on your table, facing you with a dark look.

“God, you look terrified princess. What’s wrong? Normally you always watch me with that lust in your eyes, when I humiliate you” he whispered coming closer.

You gulped, horny and embarrassed at the sime time. So much was going on in your head right now. First of all, he called you princess, where did that suddenly come from? The nickname went straight to your pussy. Already wet, but that was nothing new with that boy in front of you.

And second, he saw that you were feeling those things? Was it that obvious?

“You.... y-you see it?” you asked not wanting to look in his eyes. You stared at the big clock on the wall. Out of the blue, he grabbed your face.

His fingers pressed on your cheeks when he turned your face to look at him.

“I even see it now” he chuckled while looking you in the eyes. He probably thought you were weird, that something was wrong with you.

What you didn’t know was that Draco knew it all this time. He noticed it the first time a year ago, when he yelled something (not very nice) at you.

He noticed how it made you angry but most of all he noticed how you always gasped for air and how you looked at him with thos doe eyes. Those innocent eyes that were practically begging him to fuck you, to destroy you.

That’s why he kept doing it. He almost got addicted to the way you kept looking at him like that. So he kept torturing you, humiliating you. But you didn’t know he knew, until now. He knew you must’ve thought he was just a git, an asshole. But the truth was he never wanted to hurt you, he was just addicted to the look in your eyes when he did.

The look you were giving him now.

“I know you want me” Draco admitted.

“I, I don’t know what you mean” you stuttered trying to sound convincing.

Draco stood up and stood behind your chair now. You breath hitched when you felt him breathing in your neck.

“Oh no?” he whispered in your ear from behind. His hands slowly made his way down your body, ending on your skirt, while he kissed your neck. He lifted you skirt up gently and pressed his fingers on your clothed pussy, making you gasp.

“Then why am I feeling al this wetness here?” he asked daringly, still rubbing you.

“I still don’t know what you mean” you added, playing the game with him.

“Oh, and what about me taking your panties off? Still don’t know now?” he asked while slowly pulling your panties down.

“N-no..” you breathed loudly.

Before you even realised he placed you on the table, his legs pressed in between yours. His lips smashed on yours and you pulled him closer, your legs wrapped around his pelvis.

The kiss was passionate, it was heaven. It made your stomach twist and spin.

You grabbed his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning in his mouth when he grabbed your ass.

“You have to be a good girl now” Draco whispered when sinking down on his knees. Was this really happening?

He placed kisses on your thighs, going closer and closer to the place you wanted him.

“Please Draco, please” you begged breathing heavily. “Patience princess, patience” he answered, pushing you down on the desk, making you lay down on it now.

He did a silencing spell and locked the door.

You moaned when you felt him kissing your clit gently. He opened his mouth and sucked. His soft lips felt beter than you imagined. “Draco” you moaned. He inserted a finger while still sucking and licking gently. Your legs where trembling and you took off your shirt while he added another finger, making you moan louder.

“Please Draco, fuck me” you hissed. Draco’s pants grew tighter, his erection now painful, he was finally going to do what he wanted to do for so long. Fuck you into oblivion.

But not just yet.

“You want me to fuck you baby? You want me to destroy you the way I like to do? Just like all those times I destroyed you but now for real, now while I fuck you?” he asked huskily, still pumping into you, while holding your legs down.

“Yes please, hurt me, hate me, do what you want but please fuck me” you begged, not even feeling ashamed of it any more.

You heard his belt clicking, giving you the sign it was happening. His dick finally faced you.

God he was big. You couldn’t wait any more and whined.

“Is my little slut a little desperate?” he grunted with a raspy voice.

You nodded eagerly. “Yes daddy” you said.

The name made him crazy, almost made him come there and then. Without a warning he slammed into you, making you scream.

He didn’t move, letting you adjust a little but not for long.

Draco grabbed you, pulling you close to him. He was still standing in front of you while you were sitting on the desk.

You bit your lip while moaning. “Daddy’s going to make you feel good, because you deserve it, because you’ve been a good girl, okay?” he whispered in your ear, while you placed wet kisses on his neck.

He started moving, making you gasp. You grabbed his back and he grabbed your ass, allowing him to move deeper and faster.

Your forehead was on his, looking straight into his dark lustful eyes. You scratched his back, while he squeezed your ass harshly.

“Oh yes Dray, feels so good” you moaned. “That’s not my name” he grunted. “Sorry daddy” you answered looking at him with doe eyes.

He grabbed your neck, his fingers fitted perfectly around it and he squeezed gently. It made you clench around him, making him move faster. A delicate moan left his mouth.

Draco felt euphoric, waves of pleasure and excitement going through his body. He slapped your cheek. Making you gasp but also a filthy moan escaped your lips.

God it made you so horny. The pain turned into pleasure and the only thing you could hear were the fast, slapping sounds and his grunts and moans, even the table under you moved with you. For a second you were scared the table might break.

Without thinking you slapped him back. He was shocked first but a little grunt escaped his mouth. “You like that don’t you? Little slut? Does that make you feel good princess?” he grunted in your ear, making shivers go down your spine. His pace quickened, faster and faster.

“Please daddy, can i come, please” you begged while grabbing his hair and tugging on it. The action made Draco almost come too. This was the hottest moment of his goddamn life.

But he didn’t want it, not yet.

“A little patience, love” he said while turning you around and now pounding into you from behind. You gasped in shock.

He pulled on your hear when you arched your back. Your back was pressed up against his chest now and he pounded into you in an unbelievable pace.

Your head rested on his shoulder while he kissed you neck again.

You tried to not fall by grabbing the desk in front of you. His fingers were digging in your hips, pushing you up and down, clearly leaving bruises.

“Fuck” he sighed in your ear. He saw your ass wiggling while he fucked you. He was close.

“Come for me you pathetic slut, show me how good you are, come for me baby” he grunted now louder. He grabbed your boobs and trusted deep and sloppy now, still trying to hold the fast pace.

That was it for you, and you let go, seeing stars. You screamed and moaned his name. “Fuck dray” you moaned, not even caring about the name anymore. You wanted to say his name, to show him he was making you feel this good.

Hearing you moan his name like that, feeling your pussy clench and your boobs resting in his hands, made him come immediately after you. A loud grunt left his mouth: “Fuck y/n” . You both breathed heavily.

“Good girl” he sighed while placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder

You both stayed like that for a moment, still trying to process what just happened. After a while he pulled out and cleaned you up. You both put your clothes back on.

“Y/n?” he asked with a sudden shyness.

“Yes?” you answered with a little smile on your face.

“Would you... like to go to Hogsmeade with me? This weekend” he stammered, making you smirk.

“Well, if you won’t push me on the floor anymore, or scream at me or humiliate me” you smiled jokingly.

“Oh I’m going to keep that for in the bedroom from now on, darling” he smiled back, adding a wink.

***

[hermannsthumb]

I have a fun prompt I've been thinking about I hope you have time for one day! When Newt and Hermann meet actually things go really really well and they even get together. It's just they bicker so much and have huge science-based arguments that everyone assumed they must have hated each other on sight.

sure thing! i had fun with this one

----

"So," Newt says. "I was talking to Tendo today."

Across the mess table, Hermann hums in feigned interest. Newt knows it's feigned 'cause Hermann doesn't stop either thing he's doing: using his left hand to wind noodles around a fork, and using his right hand to scribble away a series of lengthy equations on the back of a paper napkin. His full attention has been hopping between both for about ten minutes now—no room for Newt to slip in there. He's testing his limits enough as it. Half of the last equation ended up scratched into the tabletop, and the last time he lifted his fork to his mouth, it was empty. And then he swallowed anyway. Newt kinda loves the guy.

"Yeah," Newt says, deciding to continue like Hermann responded the way he was actually supposed to respond, which would've been something along the lines of what an utterly fascinating story, Newton, do tell me more. I love hearing you talk, Newton. How marvelously smart you are, Newton, and how melodic and breathtaking your voice is. Now watch me bite down on an empty fork again. "Kinda funny. He was asking how we met."

Hermann finally looks up at Newt suspiciously over the rims of his glasses, which are slipping slowly down his nose. He stills them with the tip of his index finger before they land in his dinner. "Why?"

"I don't know, man," Newt says. "He just was. It was like, small talk, you wouldn't get it. He dropped by the lab when you were out this morning to let me know that there was extra space if we wanted it. Like, lab space." Hermann resumes scratching an equation into the table absently. Newt rolls his eyes. "As in, we could have separate labs if we wanted now."

Hermann knits his eyebrows together. "Separate laboratories?"

When Newt and Hermann first started at the Hong Kong Shatterdome, the k-scientist team was pre-existing and significantly bigger, and anyone who joined on later—like, you know, them—basically got shoved in wherever they fit. For Newt and Hermann, that happened to be Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1 (the only basement level), along with a former marine biologist who was killed on a research excursion a month later when a kaiju made unexpected landfall, like, right on top of their chosen shelter. Bad luck. Anyway, Newt's known about the existence of other Hong Kong Shatterdome lab spaces in the vague and absent sort of way that you would an urban legend, but (similarly so) he never thought he and Hermann would actually ever lay eyes on one. And then Tendo stopped by to dangle it in front of Newt on a stick.

"The other labs were being used as storage for ages after everyone else—" Newt searches for a word tasteful enough to encapsulate got stomped by a kaiju and wised up and decided to live out what are probably our last few days before the world ends with their families instead of alone in a military bunker. "—left. Anyway, Tendo told me they've been going through shit like crazy this month, I think to see if they can salvage any old tech, and that the other labs are basically totally emptied out now. We just have to ask and they're ours."

Hermann sets down both his pen and fork, twisting his mouth contemplatively. He finally loses the battle against gravity with his glasses, and they miss his plate by an inch, swinging back on their chain and bouncing harmlessly against his chest instead. Newt briefly wonders if getting a chain for his own glasses would save them from their frequent fatal falls into kaiju organ cavities and buckets of non-neutralized kaiju blood, but decides not even the money he'd save on replacement pairs would make a fashion faux pas like that worth it. "You know I don't much fancy the basement," Hermann says.

"Your joints," Newt agrees. The damp of the basement sets Hermann's joint pain off frequently, something Hermann talks about just as frequently. Newt's not really a fan of the basement either, though for different reasons—he would kill to get some windows and natural, non-fluorescent light in there. Sun lamps can only do so much. He's pretty sure he'd fucking glow if he stepped outside right now. Also, it's cold down here.

"And it might be nice to be closer to LOCCENT, in case of an emergency," Hermann continues. "And closer to—oh, hang on. What has this got to do with us?"

"Huh?"

"How we met," Hermann says. "You said, that Tendo asked—"

"Oh," Newt says. It's his turn to play coy. He stirs his chopsticks through his own dinner, accidentally flicking a piece of tofu to the table. It lands on top of Hermann's etched equations. Hermann scowls, because that's how their routine goes: Newt gets Hermann's stuff dirty, and Hermann gets mad. "Well. It was just that Tendo was like you can finally be out of each other's hair, how the hell did you guys get stuck together anyway when you obviously can't stand each other, that kind of stuff."

"Ah," Hermann says.

"And I said that it was because we knew each other before," Newt says, "and that we transferred here together. And that's when he asked."

"And what did you say?" Hermann says.

"That we used to correspond professionally," Newt says, "and met at a conference way back in 2017." He adds, with a grin, "Also professionally."

This was technically true. Newt and Hermann did write to each other, professionally, and they did meet at a conference, professionally, but what went down after a long and public shouting match in the events hall of a very nice hotel—in Hermann's room, five floors up in that very nice hotel—was not very professional. The events of the week that followed—spent, intermittently, between Hermann's hotel room, several coffee shops, a bench under a tree in Newt's favorite park, a rotation sushi restaurant, brushing knees shyly on the tram, and, finally, clasping hands on the staircase of Newt's apartment and gazing deeply into each other's eyes—weren't very professional, either, but Newt likes to think that they were very romantic. Rom-com level shit. Newt revealed none of this to Tendo, who referred to the 2017 conference as that Infamous Day for the rest of their conversation. "Well, it was professional," Hermann sniffs.

But he reaches across the table, and, very timidly, crosses his pinkie over top of Newt's. It's the most blatant form of PDA Hermann ever willingly engages Newt in. Newt thinks if he ever tried to touch two fingers at once in anywhere but the lab, or God forbid, hold his whole hand, Hermann's ears might start emitting steam like something out of a cartoon. "It might be nice," he says again.

Laboratory Space D, Basement Level 1, is unique—Newt knows—in that Newt and Hermann's quarters are connected to it directly. None of the other labs have that luxury (and Newt has a feeling it's because Lab Space D wasn't actually intended as a lab space). He remembers being told that when they were shoved into it. Yeah, you have the darkest and tiniest lab space on base, but your rooms are right there! When Newt wants to go to Hermann's room, or if he's in Hermann's room and needs a sweatshirt or something from his own, he just has to step the three feet between their two doors. Moving labs could throw a wrench in that—they might be asked to move quarters, too, and might be shuttled to opposite sides of the Shatterdome, and though they could just bite the bullet and request couple's quarters already, it's nice to have their own spaces when they need it. That would never work. And, well, besides—the lab, their lab, feels like home to them at this point. Newt shrugs.

"On the other hand," Hermann says, and he taps Newt's pinkie lightly, "I quite like how things are. I can live with the damp, really."

"We can get a dehumidifier," Newt offers.

Hermann nods, and he gives Newt the barest hint of a smile.

Their monthly delivery of lab supplies—whatever they can afford with their shoestring budget, which, these days, mostly means chalk, rubber gloves, and nice instant ramen—comes three weeks later. Newt wouldn't exactly call the Shatterdome delivery guy a friend, seeing as he has yet to divulge his name to Newt (and also Newt's pretty sure he has a thing for Hermann, since he always seems to wait until Hermann is in the lab to stroll by with his package trolley and always calls him Dr. Gottlieb with big stupid heart eyes, oh, Dr. Gottlieb, that new sweater looks soooo nice on you!, so anyway, that makes him Newt's rival by default), but he, at least, recognizes and acknowledges Newt at this point. That's more than Newt can say for most people on the base. After his usual greeting to the two of them (hey, Newt, oh, hellllooo, Dr. Gottlieb, did you do something new with your hair?), he starts to unload their packages, also like usual.

"I was surprised to see that you guys are still down here," he tells Newt, not like usual. "Tendo mentioned something about you getting your own labs."

"He did?" Newt says, meaning to frown, but grinning instead. It's kind of fun to be the subject of gossip. He pulls off his gloves and tosses them in the trash to help with their supplies—the dehumidifier he requested should be in there, and it's fancy and definitely on the bigger side.

"Yeah," their delivery guy continues. He hands Newt a fuckin' massive brick of a package. Hermann's stupid chalk. The amount that Hermann tears through in a month really is astounding: Newt has a private theory that Hermann is an undercover space alien from a planet where chalk constitutes all of the primary food groups, and he secretly sneaks out here and eats it in the dead of night when Newt is asleep. "Anyway, sorry I'm late," the delivery guy says, as Newt imagines Hermann crunching on a piece of chalk like a carrot stick, "I went to all the other labs first."

"No worries, dude," Newt says. "Sorry for the confusion."

He lugs the package over to Hermann's desk, and drops it down on the only spot not over-cluttered with papers and books. Hermann complains about Newt's messiness a lot for a guy who is just as bad, if not worse. "Need any now?" Newt asks Hermann.

Hermann, scribbling away at his chalkboard, grunts. Newt decides that's a no.

"Hard at work, Dr. Gottlieb?" the delivery guy says, practically fluttering his eyelashes.

Another grunt. Newt snorts.

"I thought you guys would've moved right away," the delivery guy (obviously disappointed at Hermann's lack of attention) tells Newt. "Tendo mentioned you've been stuck together for a while, ever since some sort of dramatic confrontation at a conference ten years ago." he adds eagerly, "Did you really get thrown out? I don't know how you haven't killed each other yet."

"It's taken a lot of hard work," Newt says. Yeah, the whole being-ejected-from-the-conference-and-barred-from-all-future-ones-forever thing is technically true too, but everyone there was too stuffy and serious for Newt's fun vibes anyway, so he thinks it's their loss. The most important part of the scientific breakthrough process, Newt frequently thinks, was having someone there to challenge you and push back at you. Sometimes loudly. And in public. In the conference hall of a very expensive hotel, in front of all of your scientific peers, some hotel security guards, and a poor graduate student who made the mistake of asking you and your penpal-colleague for your joint opinion on something and got caught in the crosshairs. Besides—out of everyone at that stupid conference, Newt and Hermann were the only ones snapped up by the PPDC, so it's doubly their loss. "And, yeah, we got thrown out. Me and Hermann fight a lot, but we always make up eventually. It's no big deal. It's, like, our thing."

"Make up?"

Newt waggles his eyebrows and doesn't elaborate. The making up part is the best part of arguing with Hermann, honestly, but he's not about to go giving private details about stuff like that to his rival.

By the time Hermann finally descends his ladder, three hours have passed, and Newt is frowning over an email he's just gotten from Shatterdome HR. Hermann will probably see it in a second when he checks his own email—it was sent to both of them, after all—but Newt waves him over to his desk anyway. "Look," he says.

He draws out the spare chair he keeps by his desk (for Hermann), and Hermann drops into it gratefully, propping his cane up against the arm. Then Hermann pushes his glasses up onto his nose and scans the email with a frown of his own. Newt reads it aloud for him anyway. "'Subject: Quarters Reassignment,'" he says. "Dear Drs. Geiszler and Gottlieb: It has recently come to our attention that you will be transferring to Laboratories A&B. Should you wish to transfer quarters as well, you will find the necessary paperwork..."

"By Jove," Hermann groans, and pulls his glasses off again, smudging a bit of chalk on his cheek, "can't they just leave us alone?"

Newt laughs. "I'll tell them we're not interested. Wait, listen to this bit at the end: Congratulations—this must be a relief! Guess they were getting your complaint forms after all, Hermann." Both Newt and Hermann had long-since assumed that any and all official complaint forms stamped with a k-sci lab return address are filed right into the garbage. It's never deterred Hermann from sending them in, though.

"Hmph," Hermann says.

Newt carefully rolls his shirtcuff back down to his wrist and uses it to rub off Hermann's chalk smudge. When it's gone, or at least, mostly gone, he brushes his fingers back through Hermann's short hair. Hermann's eyelids flutter shut, and as he leans into Newt's touch, his creased forehead smooths just a little. "Mm. You're lovely," he murmurs. "We really ought to tell them we're married. It's gone on long enough."

"I guess," Newt says. "But it's kind of funny, isn't it?"

[sserpente]

A/N: So this is a much requested Part II of this Christmas Imagine which I suppose you can also read on its own. Also has requests from @keepcalmandtravelonkate and @fandom-rpblog as well as the exclusive Zoom meeting idea. Haha, enjoy everyone! ♥

Words: 1822 Warnings: fluff

Christmas Eve came sooner than you had thought and it was about as cheerful as you had imagined it. Thor greeted you with mug of steaming hot chocolate first thing in the morning, wearing the ugly Christmas sweater you had bought him last year and Tony was already in the spacious living room with Pepper to finish up the preparations for his annual Christmas party.

You spent the entire day baking biscuits and didn’t see Loki all day but for some peculiar reason you hoped that he too would attend the biggest Christmas party in New York City. Tony had invited everyone—no, that was not entirely true, the party was, in fact, for everyone—especially those who had no one else to spend Christmas Eve with or wanted to do so with none other than the famous Avengers.

With a sigh, you finished applying your red lipstick and admired yourself in the mirror. The green dress shimmering like a thousand tiny crystals had cost you way more than what you would normally spend on clothes but the occasion was worth it. You had only realised after that green was Loki’s colour too. Another sigh escaped your lips.

The God of Mischief and you had not really spoken since the roof-incident. Part of you wondered whether he was about as confused as you about what had happened between you, especially after Thor had interpreted your entanglement in a romantic manner, the other insisted you didn’t think too much of it. Loki was just… Loki. Mysterious, mischievous and handsome. Wait… handsome?

By the time you arrived at the party, more than two dozen guests had already arrived. Dressed in Christmas pullovers, suits or festive dresses much like you, they held small glasses full of mulled wine, eggnog or champagne, munching on biscuits and other Christmas treats and chatting with each other and the superheroes who had already joined the party guests, impressing them with their stories and their skills.

Your heart skipped a beat when you spotted Loki standing only a few feet away from you. Heavens, he should not be allowed to wear suits. Instead of the light version of his Asgardian signature outfit you usually saw him in, the God of Mischief was dressed in an all-black suit complimenting his raven hair and tall figure. It was perfect to blend in and not attract too much attention, for many citizens still avoided him like the plague after everything that had happened only a few years back. Your eyes met, sending waves of electricity though you, and he nodded.

You furrowed your brows when somebody spoke your name. “Is that you?” Much to your dismay, you recognised the voice immediately. It belonged to Derek, your ex-boyfriend. Derek who collected action figures of the Avengers and who owned a Captain America costume worth five-hundred dollars. Derek, who had cheated on you with other women and, upon your break-up, had blamed you for the sexual imbalance in your relationship. Needless to say, you had not exactly ended it on good terms. The last thing you wanted to do was chat to him of all people on Christmas Eve. Much rather, you’d finally spend some time with Loki again. He was fun to be around once he had warmed up to someone…

“I tried to text you like… a hundred times.”

“I saw. I blocked your number after fifty.” You retorted.

“Don’t be like that. I was going to make up, you know.”

“You literally told me it’s my fault that you went ahead and fucked other women behind my back, Derek!”

“Because you didn’t give me what I need in the bedroom, baby. We should have talked about that more. It wouldn’t happen again. Let’s talk about this. Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Okay… Care to dance with me then?”

“Absolutely not.” You hissed.

“Come on. You are not here with someone, are you?”

You blinked. Fuck. Think, think, think. “Yes, actually.” You lied quickly. Your eyes fell on Loki who met your gaze again in a strange and almost affectionate way—something had definitely changed between you since he had helped you decorate the Avengers facility and you remembered, with butterflies in your belly, how he had caught you in his arms when you had fallen off the roof like a bird with broken wings. The idea came to you before you could properly think it through. Derek would never dare to defy someone like Loki. He was your perfect alibi to get rid of him.

“I’m here with my boyfriend. You probably know Loki?” Before you could change your mind, you stepped forward, closed the remaining distance between you and put your arm under Loki’s. He did not fail to react. Turning away from Thor, he frowned and stared at your linked arms, then opened his mouth to question you. Much to your relief, however, the gesture did not seem to anger him.

You shot him a pleading glance. Play along, you thought. Please, take the hint.

“Are you serious right now?” Derek spat, a both disgusted and shocked expression on his face.

Much to your surprise—or maybe not—Loki wrapped his arms around your middle then, pressing you against his strong body. Your heart skipped a beat. This felt like him cradling you in his arms like a bride, only more… intense, for this time—this time, it was actually intentional.

Loki gave Derek a glare, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “Are you alright, my sweet mortal?” My sweet mortal? “I believe you have promised me a dance.”

Derek swallowed, blinking at you a few times—and then, without a word, he shook his head and disappeared in the burbling and dancing crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Good thing for you he’d always been a coward.

But while relief was flooding your veins, at the very same time, adrenaline set every single cell of your body on fire. Loki was still holding you. His lips against your skin had felt like the gentle kiss of a butterfly… You looked up, if anything not to make the situation even more awkward than it already was, given that by now, both Thor and Natasha had become rather taken aback witnesses as well.

“Thank you. I really owe you.” You muttered.

“I take it this was a former suitor of yours?”

You gave him a weak smile. “That’s a very elegant way to put it but yes, he is my ex-boyfriend. I left him when I found out he cheated on me—repeatedly. I panicked when he approached me and I knew he’d be scared of you.”

“Why thank you.” Loki replied with dismay before, much to your surprise, a smirk grew on his lips.

“No! I just meant…”

“I know what you meant. So?”

“S-so what?”

“He is still watching you. You would do well to keep up the act.” Loki said, keeping you from spinning around to check. But he was probably right either way. You had just announced in front of a bunch of strangers as well as your ex-boyfriend and two Avengers that Loki and you were dating. You were honestly surprised the Trickster did not at all seem too bothered by this very circumstance, not to mention what it meant for you. Ever since the roof-incident, you certainly didn’t mind clinging onto him like that.

“Dance with me.” He commanded softly, one of his large hands coming to rest on your waist while the other interlinked with yours. “He will lose interest if you feign easiness.”

You nodded quickly, leaning into him to not raise any suspicion and taking a deep breath when the side of your face connected with his chest. Loki rested his chin on the top of your head, weighing you gently from side to side as if the music was made of waves carrying you over an ocean. It was a classic playing right now—What are you doing New Year’s Eve by Ella Fitzgerald—sweet, calm… romantic. This evening was going in a very dangerous direction now but you couldn’t help but feel safe and protected in the God of Mischief’s arms. Who would have thought that putting up Christmas decoration together would create such a strong bond between two people… a mortal and a god on top of that?

“I got you a Christmas present, you know.” You murmured after a while.

His voice vibrated in his chest, you could feel it against your cheek. “Did you now?”

“Hmm…” He stole away your ability to speak. That was so unfair! “I was going to give it to you tomorrow morning but… would you like me to give it to you now, in private?” It would be the perfect excuse to get away from here for a bit too, even if, in better lighting, Loki would probably notice your blushed cheeks.

“Lead the way, my sweet mortal.” There it was again. Smiling up at him sheepishly, you moved a step back and took his hand, practically fleeing from the scene.

Loki remained in the doorway when you reached your room. Whether it was out of decency or respect, you couldn’t quite tell. You crossed your room with quick steps, reaching for Loki’s gift under your bed. You had wrapped it in green paper and decorated it with a golden bow. A bit of a cliché perhaps but it looked just perfect.

“Merry Christmas, Loki.” You said when you returned to him and handed it to him. He only took it hesitatingly.

“Why did you get me a gift?”

You shrugged. “I just wanted to be nice. I doubt the others will have gotten you something so I thought… just so you can unwrap something too?” You almost choked on your nervous laughter. “You know I almost decided not to give it to you after all after you almost drove me mad when I was hanging up the Christmas lights.”

Loki chuckled. “I suppose you made that consideration before I saved your life.”

“More or less...” You replied, winking at him. Hey… this isn’t so hard after all!

Your heart was pounding in your chest by the time he unwrapped it, revealing the notebook and the green and gold fountain pen you had gotten him. It even came with green ink.

“It’s not much, really, just…” You said quickly. “I keep seeing you scribbling and reading a lot and I thought…”

“Thank you.” He interrupted. Honesty swung in his smooth voice, making your heart beat faster in an instant. At this speed, you were going to need an ambulance soon.

You smiled. “I ought to thank you. Derek is a dick. You saved me twice now, I’m in your debt.”

Loki chuckled once more, looking you deeply in the eye. “Yes. I believe you are.” It was, without a doubt, a promise.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente 

[mercy-burning]

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed! 

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face.  The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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[libraryofloveletters]

so cute fic request. You are Maddie's OBGYN and at every appointment she insists to set you up with Buck, you deny her and finally one say yes just to be quiet and you meet what a great guy Buck is

The Set Up

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and doctors offices, reader wears makeup, alcohol and the consumption of

Category: Straight Up Fluff 

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: here's a lil late v-day present for y’all :) 

Part 2: Dispatch: Labour in Progress 

----

“How does the baby look ?” Maddie was laid back, her eyes on the monitor. “Perfect, a perfect little baby” you smile at her as you hand her a towel to wipe up the gel. 

“How many copies would you like ?” you turn towards the ultrasound machine. 

“As many as you'd give me” she laughed, pulling her shirt back down. 

“Dad’s working ?” you asked, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, he’s been trying to get off a day to come with me” she sits up, pulling out her phone. 

Maddie was one of your favourite patients, she was a sweetheart and always happy, regardless of what was happening, you didn't know how she did it. She began showing you a few pictures of the nursery and two guys who were in the picture. The first guy was Chimney, who was the baby’s father and Maddie’s boyfriend, the two of you had met at a previous appointment and the other guy, who you hadn't meant yet but felt like you had, was her brother Evan or Buck, which is what he went by. 

“You know, if you want to just come in one day when he's off work, we can just do a regular check-up just so he can see. It doesn’t have to be anything special for you to come in” 

“You’d do that ?” 

“Of course I would, between me and you, you’re my favourite patient” 

Maddie smiled at you, “so,” she gave you a look, “since I am your favourite patient, would you also go on a date with Buck ?” she asked, you nearly choked on your coffee. Maddie had a habit of trying to set you up with her brother. She did it often but it still caught you off guard each time. You coughed, “Maddie, no.” you laughed, “that would be unprofessional” 

“Oh come on, take a risk y/n. Life goes on and one date won't kill you” 

“Who said I’m looking ?” 

“Please, you are. You can't lie to me” she smiled, you shook your head. “Still a no Maddie” you handed her the copies of the ultrasound. “If you do want to do the ultrasound when he’s home, just give me a call” you smiled at her and she got up. “I will, thank you”

-- 

A few weeks later and Maddie was back in your office. “Good afternoon momma,” you were looking at the files as you walked in, pushing the door shut with your foot. Taking a seat on your little spinny chair, you look up when Maddie says good morning back to you. 

“Oh Chimney, it’s nice to see you” you smile as you shake the gel bottle. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “it’s good to be here” 

You hand him the gel bottle, he looked at you with brows furrowed. “You’re a paramedic, aren't you ? Go ahead” you chuckle as you turn the ultrasound machine on. “How are you feeling ?” you ask, “good actually, thanks for asking” Chim answers you. 

“I’m glad to hear that but I was asking Maddie” Chim’s mouth forms an O and he nods, Maddie smiles at him. “I’m good, baby’s good too. Kicking a lot recently. Especially when I drink orange juice” she chuckled. 

“And still just the one cup of coffee ?”

“Yeah, he won’t let me have anymore” she groans 

“Good, as he should be. You’re lucky I agreed to the one cup Maddie, you know I rather if you didn’t” 

“Ugh,” she groaned and rolled her eyes, “not you too” 

“I’m your doctor, it's my job to remind you unfortunately” 

Maddie sighs and rolls her eyes once again. You get what she meant, you couldn’t be pregnant and not have coffee, pregnancy is exhausting as it is, imagine it without coffee. “you know how to use an ultrasound machine right ?” you look over at Chimney, who was looking rather confused. 

”I do, why ?” 

“Would you like to do it ?” 

“Really ?” 

“Yeah, I let the dads have a chance to do it sometime. Makes them feel a little more involved” 

“I'd love too” 

You hand him the wand and step back, you watch as he rolls it across her belly. It was always sweet when the fathers came to the appointment, even more so when they're involved. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes Maddie?” 

“Will you go on a date with Buck ?” She smiled sweetly at you, Chim looked at her, half shocked and half confused. 

“If I say yes to one date, will you quit bugging me about it ?” 

“Of course, just one date is all I’m asking for” 

“Does he know you’re setting him up ?” 

“Yeah- well no ? but he won't mind. It's part of my job as his sister” 

“Maddie, I have siblings as well, you don't see me setting them up” 

“Yeah yeah, that’s fine” 

Chim turned to you. “everything looks good doc” 

“Then we’re all done. Just hit print on the machine and you’ll get the pictures” 

Maddie wiped the gel off her stomach. She took a pen from the desk and scribbled a number down before handing the paper to you. “That’s his number, just message him” 

“You’re setting me up and I have to message him too ?” 

“Oh come on, you’ll be fine. Thank you for this and I'll be expecting details at my next appointment!” She gave you a smile before walking out. Chim looked at you, “I’m sorry I didn't know she was going to do that.” You laughed, “it's okay, she’s not the first person to do that. You should catch up with her though, she walks really fast for a pregnant lady” you chuckle, Chim smiled and walked out to find Maddie. You had some time to kill before your next appointment, you looked down at the paper in your hand. 

Do you text or not ? Wouldn't that be creepy ? Like oh hey, I'm your sister’s doctor let's go on a date.

You know what ? 

Screw it, what’s the worst that could happen. 

To Buck: Hey, I'm y/n. Your sister gave me your number, hope this isn't weird. She's been trying to set me up with you for months, thought we’d hit it off haha

God that was so stupid. Why the hell did you put haha ?

From Buck: Hey, it’s cool. She’s weird like that. What’s up ?

Oh shit, he answered. 

To Buck: Just at work, how about you ?

From Buck: Same thing 

Wait what do I say now ? Do you ask him out ? 

From Buck: Hope this isn't too forward of me or anything like that, but maybe you’d wanna grab a drink tonight ? Only if you’re free

Guess you don't have to ask him now 

To Buck: Yeah, that sounds good. Pick a place and let me know ? I’m off at 4 so anytime after that is fine. 

From Buck: I’m off at 6, how about 7 at the bar on Main Street ? 

To Buck: sounds good, see you then 

It was now 3:30 and Maddie was your last patient of the day. There was no harm in leaving now. After putting away your files and replying to a few emails from patients, you headed out. Only one issue you had when you got home was what to wear. 

Well so you thought. 

Taking a shower was the easy part, trying to do your hair and makeup with only 2 hours left, was a bit of a hassle. First disaster of the night was too much mousse in your hair, making it sticky and tacky. Washing it out, you managed to set it the way you like. The powder compact had fallen onto the floor, you hoped it wasn’t broken, turns out hope isn't enough. The other powder you had was far too light for your complexion right now and you decide against makeup for the night. 

Let him meet the bare you, you can wow him next time, if there is a next time. 

Deciding on a simple outfit, a white shirt that fit you nicely and a pair of black pants that went along with it. In your head, it seemed boring but in the mirror, it looked much better. Walking into the kitchen, there was a half drunk glass of wine from the night before.

Stale wine or nervous wreak ? Stale wine it is. 

You down the wine, spilling some onto your shirt. “Are you kidding-” groaning and turning back to the room, you end up changing your entire outfit. A pair of blue jeans and a black top that fit you in all the right places. One more look in the mirror and a hand through your hair, you headed out the door. 

It didn't take you long to arrive at the bar, as you only lived a few minutes off Main Street. You had seen Buck from the countless pictures Maddie had shown you so it didn’t take long to spot in at a table in the corner either. 

“Hey” you walked over, a smile on your face. He stood up, “Hi! you must be y/n” he leaned in for a hug, you mirrored his actions. “I am, it’s nice to meet you” 

The two of you sat across from each other and there was a bottle of beer in front of you. Buck spoke up when he noticed you noticing the bottle, “I ordered for you, I hope that's alright- you can order something else” 

“It’s fine, thank you” you take a sip, not your usual choice in drink but you didn't need to complain either. There was some silence for a while, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either. Anyone that passed by could tell it was a first date, if you could even call it that. 

“How do you know Maddie ?” he asks, you smile at him and take a sip of the beer before answering him. 

“I’m her OB” 

“Her ?” Buck had a confused expression on his face. 

“Her doctor, her obstetrician actually” 

“Oh for baby Buckley” he nodded. 

“Yeah, she's been bugging me about you since we’ve met actually. She’s sweet but she’s persistent” you chuckle and Buck gives you a smile, “that’s my sister” 

The night went by rather quickly, the two of you sharing work stories. Buck told you about the time he worked a full moon and they responded to a call at a yoga class only to have 3 women go into labour simultaneously. 

“It was the full moon I swear! I tried to tell Bobby but he didn't listen to me!” he said, laughing. 

You nodded and laughed too, “no, it’s true. I've had so many full moon babies. I never book off full moons because I know someone is going to go into labour”

“Thank you! Someone gets what I mean!”

You then told him about the time you filled in for your colleague, he told you it was supposed to be a regular birth but turns out it was quadruplets. It was nice to find someone who understood your weird work schedule. The two of you shared stories until the waitress came over to tell you that they’d be closing in a few minutes. It was a little past midnight when she came over, the two of you decided to call it a night and head out together. 

“How are you getting home ?” he asked you, you walked with him over to his Jeep that was parked down the street. “I’ll just walk, I don’t live too far from here” 

“No” he stated while shaking his head 

“No ?” you questioned him, your brows furrowed as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I invited you out, at least let me take you home. It’s late too, it won't be right to let you walk home by yourself” 

“Are you sure ? I don't want you to go out of your way” 

“Oh no it’s cool, c’mon” 

He opened the door for you like the gentlemen he is and then got in after. “Which way my darling ?” he gave you a cheesy smile which made you chuckle. “A left at the next light and the brown building is me” you leaned back in the seat. It was quiet as he drove down the street, you looked over at him and admired him. From the way his hand rested on his wheel to the little smile on his face, even to the birthmark above his eye. 

“It's rude to stare” 

“Can't help myself, you're pretty” 

Oh shit, did you just-

Buck looked over at you, a wicked little smile on his face. “You think I’m pretty ?” 

You could feel the blush on your face, “uh- well- um I guess ?” 

“I think you more than guess that but whatever you say” he smiled 

Buck pulled into the building parking lot, he stopped and his head hit the seat as he leant back. Looking over at you, “let me walk you up ?” 

“You’ve already done enough, it's fine” 

“It’s fine. Come on” he got out, you mirrored his actions. Buck followed behind you as the two of you made your way up to your apartment. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and he stood by the door. 

“Do you want to come in ?” setting your keys on the counter, you look back at the man who was leaning against the doorframe. 

“I’d love too but I've got the first shift. Maybe another time ?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine” walking back over to him, you stood in front of him. Even with him leaning, he still towered over you. 

“I had a nice time tonight” you say, he nods. “I did too. Maybe we can do this again sometime ?” 

“I'd like that” 

“Okay.” he smiles, “well, good night then y/n” 

“Good night Buck” standing on your toes, you go to kiss his cheek but it seems he had the same idea, both of you turning your heads at the same time and your lips were on his. Buck’s hand cupped your face for the few moments your lips were on his. When you pulled away, Buck had a slight red tint on his face, a blush or simply could have been the heat coming from your apartment, either way you were sure you looked the same way. 

“How does Saturday sound ? Noon for lunch if you’re free ?” he breaks the silence.

"Saturday sounds perfect” 

Buck smiled at you once more, he turned and began walking back to the elevator. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning back once again and walked towards your door.  He leaned down and gave you one more kiss. Laughing at the sweetheart that was now smiling at you from the other end of the hallway, you watched as he stepped on the elevator and then shut your door. 

Outside of your building was a happy Buck who skipped his way over to his car, his keys twirling on his finger with a big grin on his face. As he got into his car, he sent his sister a text message. 

To Maddie: You seem to know me better than I think, thank you. 

Upstairs, there was a similar scene, a happy you skipping their way to bed with a smile on their face. As you laid in bed, you too sent a text message to Maddie. 

To Maddie: Your match making efforts have worked, thank you. 

----

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[seven-waters-hc]

Types of Presents the Strawhats Would Give

(Christmas Edition)

Luffy

Do not expect much from the beloved captain, because the moment he tries to think about what to get everyone, his brain shuts down. He usually listens in on ideas other people have and kind of bounces off that. Everyone’s probably getting some funny shirts he saw at a random store and a holiday card he made himself. (Please compliment his artistic rendition of the crew on the front).

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Zoro

Honestly, I don’t think Zoro would be the best at getting gifts for others. He’s just not good at guessing what others would like, so he makes sure to just get very common things for others. You and everyone else will probably get a bottle of sake or a little card with a couple berri and a “happy holidays” scribbled inside.

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Nami

Nami would probably get you some jewelry or cute clothes previously bought on another island just before the holidays. She focuses more on fashion when it comes to her presents, and won’t take it lightly if you tell her you don’t like what she got you; you’ll get a black eye for a present instead.

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Usopp

He would probably make a hoard of fireworks to set off throughout the day and night for everyone to enjoy, in all sorts of colors that beautifully burst into the air. He also gifts smaller, intimate objects from various adventures that you thought you would never see again. Remember those acorns you threw at a squirrel for it to eat and accidentally hit it in the head, and ended up getting chased out of the woods by its entire family? Here’s one of the acorns he kept :).

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Sanji

Sanji gets colognes and perfumes in scents he thinks would go best with whoever he has in mind. Of course, that’s if he *especially* likes you. He’ll try to get you something similar to what you request if he knows a perfume won’t really work out. But if he doesn’t like you, you’re definitely getting some shitty gag gift like Zoro. Maybe some dirty socks or a wrapped-up bottle of ketchup.

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Chopper

He likes to press flowers and put them in little handmade cards, along with any pictures he has of you two or the whole crew together. Since Chopper has to go out every once in a while to forage for herbs for some of his medicines, it’s expected that he comes across some beautiful plants!

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Robin

She’s an observant woman, and that helps a lot when picking out holiday gifts for others. If she sees you eye something through a shop window or make a comment about a specific item, she’ll get it, or at least whatever is closest to it. It’s almost impossible for her to have no idea what to get you; but if she really was clueless, she would get you a book she thinks you would like. She knows all the good books.

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Franky

Obviously he’s making you a present! Probably something based on a series you talk about or whatever you enjoy, like an action figure or some type of jewelry he can weld. He prefers to make secret gifts and not take requests for presents, so if he doesn’t know you too well I could imagine him making some intricate little decoration or a music box for you.

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Brook

Brook probably forgets that the holidays are close until decorations are out and the crew is talking about festivities. He kind of panics then because he knows it’s rather rude to not give a gift while everyone does. He ends up running off the second he has the chance to a whatever store he can find on land and get some keychains or a couple tshirts. He also plays music all night long, but that’s just a year-round Brook thing, so nothing special about that.

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Jinbe

He tries to get everyone something nice, and something that will last them a long time, such as a new weapon or some well-made clothes that can withstand fierce battles. Those would be the first choices for Jinbe, but also maybe a poster or a self care set, like a little box of body products and a little candle.

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Thank you for reading! Feel free to request since my inbox is open ^_^ Happy holidays btw!

[marvelouspeterparker]

all worth it

pairing: tom holland x interviewer!reader

summary: tom is an actor, doing interviews is a part of his job. but there’s just something about you that makes him feel like the stress that comes with press tours and interviews is all worth it.

warnings: none, just fluff

notes: literally got this idea from looking at an onward interview gif (the one where he recites the lines from back to the future, iykyk) also imagine the pandemic never happened in this jfskgh

so tom loves his job, obviously

he gets to be his number one favorite superhero, make people happy, do what he loves, and more

but that doesn’t mean that there are no downsides to his career

there is actually a lot of stress that comes with being in the limelight and that includes people constantly watching your every move, being critiqued, questioned and put on the spot

and the perfect time for all this to occur? during interviews

now some of the time, interviews are nice, sometimes they’re even fun

but unfortunately a lot of the time, the same questions are asked in each and every one, one after the other, for hours on end and it honestly gets very boring and very draining very fast

so to be quite frank, he wasn’t expecting much when he walked into the next room for his last interview of the day

but when you walked in, he couldn’t help but perk up a bit

you were pretty and you seemed very nice as well, greeting everyone, including the crew as you made your way over to tom, jacob and zendaya

some of the interviewers would just walk straight to their seat and start the questions almost immediately, no warmth in their manners––but you, you were different

you shook each of their hands, smiling wide as you said hello

you couldn’t really contain your enthusiasm, you were a big marvel fan, and a fan of each of them, so you couldn’t tame your smile even if you wanted to

your energy was infectious and tom was more than grateful for it

when you reached him, he looked into your eyes deeply and you had to snap out of your daze before you made a fool of yourself

‘hello darling’ he licked his lips as he looked up at you, a gracious smile on his face and you blinked a couple times before responding

‘hi it’s––so nice to meet you, i’m a big fan.’ you turned to look at the others, ‘of all of you, really.’ 

they all ‘aww’ed and accepted your compliments, thanking you as you took your seat

when you were given the green light to start, you gave a curt nod to the crew behind the cameras and started right away

you were professional and good at your job, making the cast feel welcome and at ease after a long day of work

you told jokes, asked interesting questions that others hadn’t and since you were a marvel fan, you were able to ask specific questions that showed your genuine interest in the comics, the films, the plots and more

tom could feel himself getting more comfortable as the interview went on and the smile never left his face throughout the entire thing

when it ended and they turned the cameras off, you all felt a bit disappointed that you would have to say goodbye so soon, you were all having a good time and genuinely laughing so hard that your cheeks hurt 

you thanked them all for their time and jacob was quick to wave you off

‘no thank you––i think we can all agree that we saved the best for last today.’ he looked to his friends and they nodded along

zendaya chimed in ‘for real, this was fun.’

you smiled, honored that you managed to make their day a little better and tom spoke up quietly, making you turn to look at him

‘yeah this, this was really great. thank you y/n.’

you could feel your cheeks heating up but you nodded, smiling as you tried your best to calm your raging heartbeat ‘my pleasure’

tom would have loved to speak with you more afterwards honestly, but unfortunately as soon as he exited the room, he and his friends were being ushered towards the next location for the day, preparing for the long week they still had ahead of them

though you had hoped to see more of tom, you only had one interview with him, so you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon

or so you thought, anyway

your boss surprised you with a chance to go to the premiere, and interview some of the cast and other actors on the red carpet of course (since you were there for work)

you honestly thought that if tom did see you, he would only give you a small wave, maybe a slight head nod at best since you’d already interviewed him, but to your surprise, when he saw you, he smiled immediately and made his way over to you, swerving away from his entourage (which consisted of his brothers, assistant, and others you didn’t recognize)

‘hi love, how are you?’ 

his eyes were shining under the bright lights on the carpet and there were hundreds of shouts and conversations going on around you, but he somehow managed to make you focus only on him, from his voice and presence alone

‘good! how are you? you excited? nervous?’

he laughed, tilting his head, ‘both, but you know, i’m really proud of this film and i’m ready for people to see it’

you didn’t have much time to talk since there were plenty of other interviewers, journalists and on top of that he had to take pictures so you wished him good luck and he thanked you genuinely

‘i have to run, but be sure to tell me what you think of the movie afterwards, yeah? i know you’re a marvel fan, wanna see if it lives up to your standards’ he winked and you stuttered for a bit, agreeing as he walked off 

you were shocked that he wanted to hear your opinion, but granted there was a camera on you both, which you might have forgotten about while you were talking

but you couldn’t help but think, was that flirting? does he really want to know what i think?

you tried to push the butterflies down and focus on the film as you watched and honestly, it was easy to forget about everything else once you looked at the screen

the film, the plot, tom––everything was so captivating and entertaining, you couldn’t look away even if you tried

it wasn’t until after the film had ended, and you’d stayed for both end credit scenes that you realized you had no way of contacting tom

surely he would have things to do after this, after parties maybe? so you most likely wouldn’t see him outside

and it’s not like he followed you on instagram––he probably wouldn’t even see your dm if you sent one

as you were on your way out, thinking about all this, you felt a hand tap your shoulder and you turned, a smile on your face

but soon realizing it wasn’t who you’d hoped, you tried to not let the disappointment show on your face but as you looked clearly, you realized the man looked familiar

‘hi’ he smiled, ‘i’m tom’s assistant’ you nodded, greeting him a little confused

‘tom’ he started, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, ‘wanted me to give you this’ he handed you the paper and you opened it, feeling your stomach jump when you realized a number was scribbled on it, signed -tom ;)

without even realizing, you stared at the ink on the paper for a few seconds silently before his assistant snapped you out of it

‘he wanted you to know that he’s not a dick and he would have come if he could’

you laughed and looked up at him

‘honestly he felt really bad he couldn’t come himself, trust me.’

you nodded and put the paper in your bag, ‘thank you, i’ll be sure to use this’ you smiled

he smiled too, ‘tom hopes you will’ 

you had a feeling that tom would be busy that night, and probably hungover the next morning, so you waited a couple of days before contacting him

and during those two days, tom was honestly freaking out inside...and outside

were you not interested? was he too forward? did he do something wrong? did you get the wrong idea of him?

he was even texting harrison, jacob and zendaya about it in their group chat

tom: i’m an idiot aren’t i

zendaya: yeah but we already knew that

tom: 😑

harrison: i’m sure she’ll text you, maybe she’s just busy

jacob: yeah man, you’re a total catch

jacob: and anyway if she doesn’t want you, i’ll have you 😏

tom: thanks babe 😘

zendaya: i’m just gonna go––

tom: but anyway, i don’t think i’ll ever shoot my shot ever again because this is just embarrassing

not even a full minute passed before the he send the next text 

tom: nevermind she just texted me

tom almost dropped his phone when he saw the message pop up

maybe: y/n: hi tom! this is y/n :) i’m free to give you my thoughts on the movie when you are

you felt like you were going to be sick when you hit send on the message––you didn’t want to bother him, it’d been several days, what if he changed his mind? 

and you––nevermind he responded immediately

tom: hi darling :) i’m glad you used my number 

tom: i’m free to talk now actually, we could facetime if that’s easier? only if you want, of course

you paused when you read his text, luckily you had showered and gotten dressed today so you didn’t look a mess but you opened the camera just to check if you looked alright

were you really about to facetime tom holland?

when you finished fixing your hair, smoothing down your eyebrows and licking your lips, you swallowed your nerves and replied

y/n: sure, i’d like that

he took a deep breath and hit the call button, eagerly waiting for it to connect when you answered

when you both came into view, you smiled, greeting each other shyly

‘was a little worried when you didn’t call me that night’ he admitted sheepishly

your brows raised, surprised ‘oh i just––i assumed you would have been busy you know, after parties and all that’ you laughed and he joined you, a small smile on his face

‘darling even if you called me during the party, i would have left just to talk to you––missed hearing your voice honestly’ 

when you paused to answer a blush coated his cheeks and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked

‘sorry was that lame?’ he laughed nervously and you shook your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile

‘no––that was, really sweet actually. i––like talking to you too, it’s really nice’ 

soon you get to talking about the actual movie and you couldn’t stop the praises from flowing

‘honestly it was incredible tom, you were incredible, i loved it’

‘thank you love, i’m really glad you enjoyed it, i was hoping you would.’

and the way that tom smiled bashfully and blushed, even pointing the camera away from his face to hide at one point had you swooning more than ever

after that, you and tom texted here and there, sometimes even facetiming, and he wouldn’t hesitate to compare you to his other interviewers and even tell you about it

‘had an interview today, can’t even compare it to yours, love’ 

you just rolled your eyes, a smile on your face ‘oh shut up, tom’ 

you talk often but due to both of your busy schedules, months go by before you see each other again

you run into him at red carpets for other marvel movies, and there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

‘‘there’s my favorite interviewer’ his smile was wide as he walked up to you. ‘you excited for this one?’

you scoffed, fully having a conversation with tom as though you weren’t on camera ‘of course i am, it looks amazing’

‘even better than my movies?’

you raised your hands in surrender, ‘legally, i can’t answer that’

he put a hand to his chest, acting dramatically offended ‘wow well, i guess it’s time for me to go then’

‘at least save me a seat?’ you joked

‘you know i will’ he smirked

by the time ‘the devil all the time’ press came about, you hadn’t told tom that you were assigned to interview him, honestly it was a last minute schedule change 

honestly, he’d gotten good at hiding his bad moods from the public, but you’d known him for enough time now to be able to see when he wasn’t at his 100%

which is why you could see him visibly brighten up when he walked into the room and saw you

‘what are you doing here?’ he asked, clearly (pleasantly) surprised as he hugged you 

‘uh, my job?’ you joked, ‘you didn’t actually think i only interviewed for the mcu did you?’

he blushed, ‘well i uh––no, obviously not’ he said unconvincingly but you brushed him aside as you got ready for the interview

once you started, tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, you were just really good at your job and he enjoyed being with you, even when it was for work

‘so obviously audiences are used to seeing you as peter parker, a rather lighthearted character, despite all the hardships he’s had to face––would you say approaching a character as dark as this was challenging in any way? mentally, emotionally, or just in regards to the fact that the public would be seeing a new, more sinister, villainous side to you?’

‘i mean it was a little daunting, definitely. but i was excited to sort of branch out mentally and challenge myself emotionally for this role––the story was fascinating to me and i was just so proud to be a part of this project, i tried not to think of any downsides.’ 

he paused and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. ‘and honestly, we all have a little bit of a dark side, don’t we?’ 

you paused. of all times to flirt––

‘well hopefully not to the same extent of your character,’ you joked and thankfully the conversation smoothly transitioned elsewhere

now the fans took notice of your bond with tom

they noticed that tom seemed to smile the brightest and laugh the loudest during your interviews, even jumping into other conversations and answers to questions that were directed to his costars

there were dozens of videos, hundreds of edits––

‘tom falling for his interviewer for 9 minutes straight’

and you’d seen them––it was sort of impossible for you to not

you’d been tagged in so many of them, even your friends sent them to you

i mean you weren’t blind, tom was attractive and he did make your heart flutter but you assumed that he didn’t want a relationship since his career was only progressing, skyrocketing either––it would probably be difficult to maintain a solid relationship, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in you so you said nothing

it wasn’t until he had a break from filming that he asked you to hangout, and still you thought nothing of it, until he asked what time he should pick you up

you paused, and he even thought that you froze when really you were just processing what he said

‘like a––date?’ you asked hesitantly

he smiled, scratching the back of his head nervously, ‘yeah? yeah i––like a date.’

you smiled, ‘i would love to tom. but aren’t you worried about pictures spreading online? headlines and all that? i wouldn’t want to add any more stress––’

‘i promise love,’ he interrupted your worried rant, ‘you make it all worth it.’