#fives drabble

[freesia-writes]

Omg hi!!! so this is one the first requests I’ve ever done, and I hope I’m doing it right. I know if you choose to do this it’s gonna be amazing like the rest of ur stuff, but always feel free to ignore!

So like, I might’ve broken my collarbone recently…. If we could incorporate the reader with a broken collarbone, oooooooooohhhhh!!!! yes please >:D

so, what iffffff: clone: fives, setting: reader’s apartment/home/whatever, tone: soft & tired (reader), sfw

and just one teeeeeensy tiny little request: fives gentle cuddles for a reader who can’t sleep due to her broken collarbone, and the uncomfortable-ness that comes with it (jeez, that’s a lot, if you wanna completely ignore that, that’s fine)

if you need to know any details abt the collarbone or anything else like that, should you choose to write this (no pressure, really, feel so free to ignore) send me a dm and I can help ya out!!

Happy Writing and have a wonderful day!!!

Hi!! Thanks so much for being so kind! :) Sorry to hear you broke your collarbone… That's a tricky one! :( Hopefully this is a warm and fuzzy little mental escape for ya. :)

You shuffled uncomfortably in your sprawl on the couch, already tired of the sling that held your arm in place to allow your collarbone to heal. It was hard enough to get around life as usual, and sleeping had been nearly impossible. You could feel the gray storm clouds rolling in as you sank into morose reflection on your current state.

"Hey," came a soft voice, "You moping over there?"

You grinned, tilting your head to face him, heart warmed at the sight of his soulful eyes and earnest expression.

"Fives… I would never," you lied, and a knowing smirk flashed across his face as he scooted over beside you. He was still learning how to move… not only you, but around you and with you. He carefully shifted his sturdy chest behind you, inviting you to lean over and rest against him. The movements were tentative, and you thought you were going to get off scot-free, but a stabbing pain up the side of your neck and across your chest scolded you for your disturbance. Your wince and gasp were immediately met by concern as Fives froze in place, eyeing you as though you were a fragile ceramic figurine.

You sighed, the pain receding into a dull ache, and did your best to situate yourself along his side. A tip of the head allowed your face to nuzzle into his neck, and he snaked an arm around your waist, careful to avoid the shoulder farthest from him.

"It's just a few more weeks," he said quietly, and your grimace broke into a smile.

"It could be up to ten more," you grumbled, feeling heavier and heavier in his warm, supportive embrace.

"That's just a few!" Fives insisted, the shadow of a chuckle echoing in his chest.

"That is NOT just a few!" you countered indignantly.

"It is! Watch… I'll just sit here and tell you a FEW of the things I love about you," he said with a slight taunt, and your cheeks curved against his neck in mirth.

"Oh, well… Maybe ten is just a few…"

#fives #fives drabble #x reader #fives x reader #fives fluff

[angelltheninth]

Michael Goes Feral After Unlocking His Breeding Kink

Pairing: Michael Afton x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, breeding kink, leg lock, creampie, feral!Michael Afton

A/N: I have a headache so I didn't get to write the other things I wanted to for today but I did manage to get this done.

It was an accident you swear it, you just wanted to feel Michael closer, deeper, you wanted to hold him against you, feel his chest against yours, feel his body on top of you, get that last kiss in before he had to leave for work. So you pulled him closer, you locked your legs around him just as he was about to come.

You didn't think about the fact that he wasn't wearing a condom, or that you'll have to go to the drug store after this, you only wanted Michael's cock deep inside you.

But the moment you prevented him from pulling out there was a change in him. First a brief hesitation as he let himself sink back in, his throat bobbing at the implications of the act and what it would mean if he were to get you pregnant. Next was the wonderful image of it, your big belly, feeling the baby kick, getting to name it with you, getting to become a dad, making you a mother. "Wanna have a kid?" He blurted out, smirking to himself before you got to reply to him.

"You... mean that? But Michael, you just started your job. It's be bad if... ah... are you even listening to me?" All the while you kept talking he didn't stop his hips once, "We gott-aah... think abou-t... mmn... can't think..." It was hard to, with him constantly reminding you of how full you were.

"Fine, okay. But at least let me come inside you, please I wanna come inside your cunt." When Michael starts swearing you know how horny he is. "Really need this tonight babe." He grunted, his hands grabbing your thighs and keeping them locked around himself, "I'll fill you up good tonight okay? It's what you want right?"

You could see the little bits of doubt on his face and decided to kiss them away, "Want you close. If you want to... yes, you can do it inside. Give me your cock, cum, you... can do what you want."

What started as a little quickie before work just as easily turned into Michael hammering his hard cock into you with brute force only he possessed, watching his cum spill out of you, "No, no, no, no. Inside, that stays inside, you told me to fill you up, that's what I'll do, I won't let you down. I promise sweetheart." He was getting almost frantic, "You're gonna be so... perfect... when I put a baby into you, fuck you full of my seed." Michael quickly fell in love with that idea, shooting another hot, sticky white strings of cum into your womb.

He kept doing this night after night after night before he went to work, even if you took the after pill it didn't matter to him. As long as he got to leave with you dripping full of his cum then his job for the day was done. To think that all you needed to do to unlock that feral side of him was to lock your legs around him, how funny.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #mike schmidt #micheal afton x reader #fnaf headcanon #fnaf imagine #fnaf x you #mike schmidt x you #michael afton smut #mike schmidt smut #smut drabble #x female reader

[solarlunarsstuff]

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩

☆ Headcannons With Mike Schmidt ☆

Synopsis: This is basically abt Mike Schmidt cuz yes- (sfw and nsfw).

Tw: Dacryphilia, thigh riding, fingering, fluff n smut, switch!Mike, switch!Reader, manhandiling, orgasm denial, squirting, dumbification, and cuddling.

A/n: Abby also catches the bus in this lil drabble, ots also short I'm sorry :(, anyway. Enjoy this breedable man's hdcs!!! ♡♡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(SFW HDCS)

☆ First of all, you've both been friends for years, he had given you the keys to his house for the purpose of trusting you

☆ You got up early to check on him, but by that time Abby had already gotten to school by the bus

☆ You both would cuddle in the morning before he left for his agonizing night of work

☆ You would also cook for the poor man so he wouldn't be left on an empty stomach

☆ You've always remembered to give him goodbye kisses before he would start the car

☆ Once he got to work, he would always keep a picture of you in his wallet, either way, he loved how pretty you were

☆ Mike would slowly eat his lunch made from you.

☆ Every single type of affection you did to him would make him melt

☆ And once he got home he would shower you with kisses

☆ On the lips, hands, neck, anything would work for him as long as you were in his protective arms

☆ He even got a bit risky at the dinner table where Mike, Abby, and you.

☆ Mike would rest his hand on your thigh while you both would listen to Abby talk about her "friends" and drawings

☆ Abby started to stick on you, drawing you and Mike holding hands with some colorful background

☆ Mike has always loved you, ever since he saw you in preschool

☆ He may still be a bit nervous around you but still yet, he lived for your love

☆ He would often give you hugs from behind when your cooking with his bedhead, tank top, and sweats

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚

(NSFW HDCS)

☆ Morning sex, all the way

☆ It's like you'll come to his house and he would act all needy and would beg for you to ride him

☆ This happens so much that you started to go dumb over his dick

☆ You would obviously agree and lose track of time and he ends up late for work

☆ Mike is so obsessed that near the end of his shift he would call you to check in but it would end up in phone sex

"Yeah, lemme' hear that fuckin' cunt-fuuuuckk"

☆ He would breathe out while his throbbing cock was laying in his calaused hands

"Go on. Finish f' me? Mhmm, that's it..."

☆ Mike would walk you through it and cooed at any noise that came out of your body

"Shiiiit- can't wait to break that fuckin' pussy when I get home.."

☆ Ohh boy, you knew he would absolutely fuck you up

☆ You also knew that when he gets home from shifts, he would get a bit madder each night

☆ You didn't mind, like at all.

☆ Mike was drilling his dick straight into your puffed up cunt, not letting up to let you breathe

☆ You've told him so many times that when he comes home mad you get a bit worried but he brushes it off

☆ Besides that, he loves when you take control too

☆ Having him not shutting up when he was being to loud

☆ Grabbing the opportunity to shove your panties in his mouth

☆ Mike is so far into bliss that he lolled his tongue out to let you spit in his mouth

☆ He calls you whore, you call him slut. Either or you both love degrading each other

☆ Even if he's not in the mood he'll let you hump his thigh so it's not as messy

☆ But it ends in him finger fucking you

"Aww, poor baby wants my fat cock in her? Well to fucking bad, deal with it you fucking whore.."

☆ Mike was the person that had founded your G-spot, making you squirt everytime but sometimes wouldn't let his poor baby finish :(

☆ He would always lick and suck it off of his fingers and helped you wash up

☆ He was the one that made you want more

☆ Mike Schmidt was the only man on earth that could make you come as hard on and around his cock

《☆♡☆》

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #michael afton #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton x reader #smut drabble #fnaf smut #thigh riding #degradation k1nk #hate fuck #couple cuddling #feeling slutty

[multi-fandom-imagine]

«Soft Hands || Mike Schmidt ||

A/n: I love this man

Prompts used:

calloused hands in soft hands

comparing hand-sizes to hold their hand against the other’s and then just holding hands

Mike would always make an excuse to hold your hand, they were so soft in his hands. He was nervous at first, he knew how rough his hands could be, how calloused they were. But you just smiled then gave his hand a squeeze. He swore he fell more in more in love with you that day.

Your name spilled from his lips, your head turned it look at him.

“What is it?”

“C…can I try something?”

Humming you smiled dropping a dish in the sink, drying your hands you stepped in front of Mike with a grin on your face. “What is it?”

“I just.” Grabbing your hand, Mike placed his hand on top of yours. “Look how small your hands are in mine.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at his hand, his palm dwarfing yours. “You know Mike.” You wove your hand through his own giving his hand a squeeze. “If you wanted to hold my hand you just had to ask.”

Teasing him for a moment, you watched the man’s cheeks turn a bright red. “I wasn’t.”

Standing on your toes, you shook your head giving him a teasing smile. “It’s cute…so don’t get so worked up about it.” You then pressed your lips against his own as he wrapped his arm around your waist drawing you in close.

Sighing, he gave you a tired smile then rested his head against your own. “I love you.” He muttered feeling you nuzzle into his chest.

Smiling, your fingers clutched his sweater. “I love you too Mike.”

#drabbles #drabble #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n #FNAF #fnaf x reader #fnaf x y/n #fnaf x you #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie

[bunnybunbun0]

Mikey is sooo the type of boyfriend to hold your hands while he fucks you.

You don´t even care on how roughly your back is pressed against the wall of a random storage room of fazbear´s,or about how his hard on is pressed insistently against your hip,not that you can when his mouth is so busy giving atention to your neck.

The open mouthed kisses on your neck were gentle,like the soothing feeling of his hand always gripping your delicate one. The grip suddenly gets tighter when the kisses that were taking gasps out of you turns into possessive bites,the both of you having the amazing feeling that youre being marked.

The only moment your eyes shot open is when his hand left yours,but only for a split second to grab your waist and pull you into his lap while he sits on a chair in the corner. You fail to stifle a needy whimper when he roughly presses your drenched pussy against his boner. His smirk shows you he didnt missed it.

"Youre liking this arent you?" His lips are toying with the lobe of your ear "Naughty girl" His low guttural chuckle ignites something in you.

"Please mikey..." Boy,he swears he will never get tired of his name coming out your pretty lips with a beg.

"Relax princess,ill give you just what you need."

And the last thing you recall befre being ravashed and getting absolutely cock drunk is his hands once more holding yours tenderly.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton x reader #lord help me this man is doing things to me #michael schmidt x reader #michael afton #micheal afton #fnaf headcanons #fnaf imagines #fnaf x you #mike schmidt x you #michael afton smut #mike schmidt smut #smut drabble #fnaf x female reader

[popponn]

note: happy birthday fishman. please just come home already. i want to poke this cutie a lot.

you stare in disbelief at the pile of plushies in your hands, then at the empty ever-rotating crane game machine, then finally at the half-fish half-man who you get the pleasure of calling employer and boyfriend.

"...how?" you ask, still dumbfounded.

rafayel—who casually keeps a finger gun pose shamelessly in the middle of a public arcade—smirks even wider, "who do you think you are talking to?"

"someone who always misses the plushies," you answer quickly without a missing beat, before adding an afterthought, "usually. on every turn."

this response immediately makes him drop the finger gun away from his chin. changing it into a childish (and very adorable) hands on the hips pose. as animated as his gestures are, his face morphs into a pout, "hey. that's just me holding back so this place could still have a business."

"..." you doubt it, really.

"what does that face mean?" rafayel's eyebrows frown even further—which serves as enough warning that you probably should start giving him praises or you will have another spiel of how "you don't love him and even the jellyfishes that eat grass agrees with that". no one wants a repeat of that.

and also, you love him enough to think a preening smug rafayel is better than a pouting annoyed one.

"it means—" you poorly try to hide your smile, "—that i am very thankful that a really handsome guy gets me all of this. so much that i couldn't believe it."

predictably, the air around rafayel soon matches a peacock more than a fish. "hmph! good!" he says, in a manner that sounds like he will demand some spoiling the moment the two of you get home. or so you think, before he opens his mouth again and eyes the other machine a few steps behind you, "why don't you let this handsome guy get another round of plushies for you then?"

(five minutes and eight rounds later, the plushies in that other machine remain untouched.)

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace imagines #drabbles #congrats homura you finally get five plushies and get me that achievement. and for me to writing a proper lads fic that is not a scenario #after many many “this is for you girlie” *misses* moments. you are precious #happy birthday babyboy. i will try to finish all your audio drama soon.

[yanderetheumbrellaacademy]

Ok hear me out😬

Yandere five x reader but the reader is the more dominant of the two. But because Five loves the reader so much he doesn't mind

This reminds me of Spike's "I love the kind of woman that would actually just kill me" line🤭

I went a little different route This was requested before he told Lila 'I prefer a woman who won't kill me' [Dec. 2021 so before Season 3]

You were staring at each other, your eyes wide and his were passing between you and the dead body behind you. It was silent for a few minutes and there was a part of you that knew it was over for you.

"Hmm..."

"That's it? That's all you have to say is 'Hmmm'?"

He looks up at you, tilting his head, "Um... I guess I'm a little surprised, but uh- it's just a dead girl, not a dead president."

"Oh?" You look back at the body, "I think it's close enough. A dead body is still a dead body."

"So how were you planning to get rid of the body?" He crosses his arms, giving you an annoyed look.

You bite your lip, "Uh... I didn't think that far ahead."

Five rolls his eyes, shaking his head, "Okay, I'll handle it."

"You always do."

You yawn, before looking over at Five, who was reading a book. "So what did you do with her body?"

He doesn't look up at you, instead flipping the page. He hums in acknowledgement, but doesn't answer your question, maybe it was for the best. You flip over on your side, which catches his attention.

"You're going to sleep.''

You look over your shoulder, slowly blinking at him, "Yeah? Is that okay?"

"I guess. Pretty early. Murdering makes you sleepy?"

You roll your eyes, groaning, "It was an accident."

He laughs, causing you to glare at him and he quickly hushes up.

"Turn off the lamp when you're done."

"Yes ma'am." He mocks as you slowly drift to sleep.

#number 5 #tua #five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five x reader #number 5 x reader #yandere five #umbrella academy #yandere five hargreeves x reader #yandere five x reader #yandere five hargreeves #yandere number 5 #yandere the umbrella academy #yandere umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy x reader #umbrella academy x reader #drabble

[arcsimper5]

Clone reactions to meeting Grogu:

Rex: *looks him over, visibly confused* I thought jedi couldn't have sex?

Fives: omg omg omg omg omg omg we need to keep him, he's the new 501st mascot, he can ride on my shoulders, I NEED HIM.

Echo: You're cute, which, given nature's cruelty, probably means you are dangerous. *backs away slowly*

Jesse: WHAT IN SITH HELLS IS THAT? KEEP IT AWAY FROM ME!

Kix: *eyes suspiciously*... There is no way you're older than me.

Tup: *repeats nonsense babbling back at him while sitting cross legged and doing arts and crafts*

Dogma: It's LOOKING AT ME. WHAT DO I DO?

Cody: *stares for several minutes*... Can you hold a blaster?

Waxer: *running away with him in his arms while being persued by numerous jedi* NO! CHILD IS MINE!

Boil: You're one weird looking critter... You play sabacc?

Wolffe: *holding him up to Master Plo* General, I humbly request that this be your new padawan. Yes, I know he can barely understand basic, and that he is fundamentally useless. That's why he'll fit in with us. No I'm not being harsh.

Fox: Aw, shit! HOUND! IT GOT OUT OF THE BOX AGAIN!

#tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #arc trooper fives #tcw fives #the bad batch #captain rex #arc trooper echo #Wolffe #clone commander wolffe #drabble #star wars headcanon #Clones react #baby yoda #din grogu #grogu

[angelltheninth]

Omfgggg i cant stop thinking about mike schmidt from the new fnaf movie getting me pregnant..

It's NNN, not breeding season! But... very appealing.

Pairing: Michael Afton/Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, gentle sex, sex during pregnancy, clit stimulation, sweet!Michael Afton

A/N: I re-watched the movie last night with my friends, they understood nothing but all agreed that Mike was precious.

Michael was much more gentle the he was before he found out about your pregnancy, you'd barely began showing and already he was going so slow you thought you might die from the teasing and the denial. It wasn't his plan to do this to you, he was just being a considerate husband, you couldn't exactly fault him for it. But your pussy sure could.

"Mike... move faster damn it!" You grew visibly more and more impatient but his pace didn't change, he held your ass in his hands, hips slightly lifted so he could still sink in deep, but god were his hips moving slow.

"No... might hurt the baby." Michael's eyes moved affectionately to the baby bump, a smile unknowingly appearing on his face, "Can you believe we did that? We made that." He chuckled to himself, eyes full of wonder.

"I know, I was there. But unless you never want to fuck me again you... god- need to move faster. Or at least... I don't know, just do something! Anything! This is driving me insane!" You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of an orgasm. But if he kept this up you were never gonna get there.

He knew what to do, the perfect solution. "Like this?" One of his hands left your ass and slowly made it's way across your thigh, to your hip and made you sound out a most desperate moan when the rough pad of his thumb moved back and forth across your clit. "That's better isn't it sweetheart? I can feel you tightening up around my dick. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how close you were."

That was a dirty lie, he knew your body very well by now, he knew you were about to finish and his smile proved it. Staying on the same speed he was before his other hand eased your ass down to the bed and pressed against your pregnant belly. "Thinking of giving me another one?"

"Uh, let's see how we handle one." Michael shifted his weight a little, making sure his cock dragged along the sensitive spots of your pussy. He rolled his thumb against your clit every time he pushed his cock back in, humming at the repeated tightness and the blissful moans that got louder and louder the closer you got. Your back arched off the bed, his hand slipping from your stomach to your breast, accidentally brushing against your now very sensitive nipple.

"Ah!" The unexpected stimulation combined with the pressure in your pussy and your clit made you see stars. There was no controlling your hips as they moved against him. Michael did everything he could to make your orgasm last, after all he was the reason it was delayed, might as well pay you back by not taking his hands or eyes off you until you stopped shaking.

#fnaf x reader #fnaf smut #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #michael afton x reader #mike schmidt x reader #michael afton #mike schmidt #micheal afton x reader #fnaf headcanon #fnaf imagine #fnaf x you #mike schmidt x you #michael afton smut #mike schmidt smut #smut drabble #x female reader

[chiliger]

Sign Off

Torrent Company: *gathered in front of a window, some of them holding binoculars while others clamor around to listen*

Tup: *curious, steps up beside Jesse and Hardcase* What’s going on?

Hardcase: *grins* The 212th’s venator is orbiting right next to ours. *snatches the binoculars from Jesse, ignoring his annoyed shout, and hands them to Tup* Same level viewing port.

Tup: *peeks in through one scope of the binoculars while Dogma presses in to look as well*

Ghost Company: *a large group of them standing at a window like Torrent, one of them at the center quickly signing with his hands*

Jesse: *bouncing impatiently on his toes* Come on, I wanna see!

Tup: *hands the binoculars back, still confused* What are they doing?

Hardcase: We — *gestures to the center of their group, where Fives is signing back in response* — are having a Sign Off.

Dogma: *frowns* What’s a Sign Off?

Jesse: Shh! I’m trying to translate here.

Hardcase: *rolls his eyes, leans closer to Tup and Dogma, in a low-ish whisper* It’s a little competition where Vode have a battle of wits using ARC sign. We do it when we have some downtime while in orbit.

Tup: Oh! What are they saying now?

Jesse: *grunts in frustration* Damn kid’s signing too fast for me to read.

Fives: *on his turn, quickly fires off gestures using his hands and arms*

Jesse: *groans* Kriff, now I’m lost.

Hardcase: Damn, I thought you were studying ARC sign, Jess.

Jesse: *shoots him a glare* I am.

Dogma: He just signed, “better change that mohawk before a bird mistakes it for a mating display.” *blinks* That doesn’t sound witty.

Hardcase: Osik, we’re getting personal now. Ha!

Jesse: Wait— *looks at Dogma* You know ARC sign?

Dogma: *blushes, suddenly embarrassed and fiddling with his fingers* Y-yes…

Jesse: Kriff, kid, then what am I here for? *hands him the binoculars* Switch places with me.

Dogma: *wide eyed, looks at Tup*

Tup: *smiles reassuringly at him and nods*

Dogma: *still hesitant, looks back at Jesse and Hardcase* Alright.

Hardcase: Yes! Front and center, vod’ika.

Dogma: *takes the binoculars and moves closer to the window. Looks across the open space as the vod from Ghost starts his response. Watches closely and translates* “At least I don’t look like a wanna-be lead singer.”

Jesse: *roars laughing, the others joining him or “ooh”—ing in response.

Fives: *bright red all over his face, has a thousand yard stare for a second before shaking it off and making the sign for yielding*

Hardcase: Oh shit! *laughs, grinning* Ghost takes this round. *claps Dogma on the shoulder, making him jump* We’ll call you for the next one. Sound good?

Dogma: *blinks, still blushing and still a little unsure. Shares another look with Tup before nodding, smiling shyly* Yeah.

Hardcase: Awesome! Keep the scopes.

Jesse: Hey! Those are my—

Hardcase: *ignores him and bumps his arm* Hey, Fives, how’s your pride, vod? You good?

Tup: *stands next to Dogma, chuckling at their siblings*

Dogma: *awkwardly holding the scopes* I don’t think I understand this game, yet.

Tup: *snorts and hides his face with his hands, shaking from holding back laughter*

#chili writes #501st #clone trooper tup #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper dogma #this is purely a drabble that came to me after I woke up #I’m seeing a pattern where I keep making fun of fives but please knows it’s out of love #he can a little bit of loser energy #for confirmation: it was wooley that fives was competing with

[bunnybunbun0]

Currently getting off on the idea of loser!Mike touching a boob for the first time ever. (and of course its yours!)

You were just out for a midnight walk and thought "why dont i go bother mike at his new security job?" You were sitting in a random table along with him,a teasing lolipop in your mouth,flirting with Mike and getting his flustered over nothing was too much fun,you couldn´t get over it.

"So youve never been on a proper date?" He asked regarding the topic of your crappy dating life "Like no flowers or a nice dinner?" His eyebrows were raised,he always disapproved of the sketchy man you went out with,and he thought a nobody like him would never get a chance with a girl like you.

"Dinner and flowers?" You looked into his eyes and chuckled amusedly "Please,i showed my tits for way less!" you took the sucker out your mouth with a loud pop.

The blush on Michael´s cheeks were nerly comic,like a cartoon character getting a kiss on the cheeck,his eyes went everywhere trying to avoid yours,and you could swear that for a moment he just stared at your lips.

"So those men they just...saw your chest?" His voice was heavy in embarassement,face so red he looked like he had a nasty fever.

It was too much of a good teasing chance to just let it pass.

"Oh that and much more..." You popped the candy back into your mouth smirking teasingly "What? You never touched a boob?"

You knew the answer to that question already,Michael´s non existing date life was material for endless late night phone calls and a fuel for your relentless teasing.

"N-no i havent..." He said shyly

You were´nt expecting him to actually answer that,let alone with such honesty,a million things ran through your mind in that minute and the one you chose to listen was the fact you couldnt let your best friend be the type of man who never felt a woman´s breasts.

"Well,lets cchange that shall we?" Your smile was growing bigger by the minute. As you took of your jacket revealing the low cut top you were wearing that oh so nicely hugged your breasts,his eyes were glued in them.

He was taken aback by your actions,not sure what to do next,but that smirk of yours and that top that left little to the imagination were stirring something in him.

"What...What are you implying here?" He twiddled his fingers nervously and you took a step closer to him.

"Well...What are you waiting for? Be my guest!"

He could swear his heart never pumped any faster. He approached you slowly,shaky hands being raised to the point where they were rested on top of your chest,he looked into your eyes for any kind of reaction,hands still and face red like some kind of trance.

"Well dont be shy! get into it!" You stirred him on dancing the red lolipop around in your cheecks.

"A-am i doing this right?" He asked worried and out of breath as he moved his hand slowly,small circular moves from the entirety of what your push bra could expose to him.

"There is no way of doing this wrong,as long as you enjoy yourself..." Your tone was flirtarious as ever,and the growing tent on the front of his jeans proved he was indeed enjoying himself.

His eyes wandered between you and his hands on your boobs,he was slowly getting the hang of it,being ever so delicate and liking the feel of your body on his palms. But it wasnt enough for you,not until he really let himself go.

"Come on! really get into it!" You stirred him on one more time,going further this time.

You put your hands on top of his over your chest and gave it a nice firm squeeze,wanting him to really feel you. You thought his eyes were gonna pop off with how big they widened.

His shock however,didnt forbid him from keep on squeezing and massaging your boobs,the confidence growing ever more at every little gasp that you let scape and at the way he could feel your nipples harden under the fabric.

He couldnt believe his luck! He was actually touching a girls boobs! One that he has been attracted to for a long time as well! He didnt want this moment to ever be over.

"Are you liking it?" he asked without ever stoping the motion of groping your tits.

you hissed through grutted teeth at the way he teased your nipples,mike was always a quick learner and this time it wasnt any different.

"Youre not bad for a first timer" you smiled at him teasingly.

You took a few steps back,chest feeling cold without his preying hands,you ignored the temporary feeling of loss knowing what was to come would be way better. You slid your hands beneath your shirt pulling it over your head,staying in front of him in only a bra and jeans.

"Ready to learn the real deal?"

#fnaf imagines #fnaf x you #michael afton smut #michael schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #five nights at freddy's #fnaf #fnaf smut #fnaf x female reader #fnaf x reader #loser!mike #michael afton x reader #michael schmidt smut #michemichael #michael afton #micheal afton #fnaf headcanons #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x you smut #snut drabble

[waddingham]

oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

×

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision. 

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice. 

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it. 

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

×

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting. 

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?” 

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring. 

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder. 

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet. 

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea. 

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

×

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday. 

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again? 

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

×

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

×

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise! 

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter. 

It's well, well worth the extra step.

×

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen. 

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.” 

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.” 

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him. 

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.”

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles. 

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters. 

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food. 

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it. 

“Yeah? That one a winner?” 

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles. 

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns. 

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls. 

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?” 

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him. 

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds. 

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated. 

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit. 

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin. 

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips. 

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink. 

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners. 

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?” 

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile. 

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

×

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind. 

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen. 

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth. 

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself. 

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him. 

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite. 

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening. 

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.” 

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips. 

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me... #a gift for you anon. just cause 💌 #also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles