#I’m so glad he’s getting the help he needs and I’m so glad he’s found the right therapist for him 🥰🥰

[lov3yv4mps]

SLEEPY SEX WITH CHAN AFTER YOU BOTH HAD A LONG DAY OF WORK PLEASE ILL GET ON MY KNEES ANS YOU WRITE SK GOOD OMG ILYSMMM

₊˚⑅⋆ overtime ⋆⑅˚₊

Genre: smut, MDNI !!

Warnings: cuddling, kissing, cursing, some dry humping, oral (f rec), unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it), lemme know if I missed any!

v4mps note: sorry if this sucks smut is NOT my strong suit but I LOVE YOU TO WHAT!?!?

Chan finally stepped through the door, his body weary from the long hours at the studio. The moment he entered the apartment, he was met with the comforting, familiar smell of your scent, and his muscles relaxed just a little. The door clicked softly as he kicked off his shoes, and his eyes found you—half asleep, nestled beneath the soft covers, just waiting for him.

He smiled to himself, the exhaustion from the day slipping away as he walked over to the bed. Your soft, sleepy voice greeted him with a simple, "Hey, baby."

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and you stirred slightly, opening your eyes to see him standing over you. His tired expression melted into a loving smile as he whispered, "Hey, sunshine."

Without another word, he crawled into bed next to you, his body instinctively pulling you close as he buried his face in your neck. The warmth of his embrace settled your nerves, grounding you after the long, exhausting day.

You sighed into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him as his hands gently traced over your back. You could feel his exhaustion, but there was something more—something deeply affectionate in the way his touch lingered. "Long day?" you murmured softly, your fingers running over the ridges of his muscles.

"Yeah, you have no idea," he chuckled quietly, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. But even though his body ached, he couldn’t help the way his eyes roamed over you, the pull of desire slowly creeping into his chest. "But I’m glad I’m home now."

You turned in his arms, your lips brushing against his as he kissed you softly, the taste of him making your heart flutter. It was a slow burn at first—tender, like you both just needed this connection. But as his lips moved lower, down your jawline to your neck, you felt the heat rising between you. His body shifted, pressing against yours just enough to make you feel him.

A breathless gasp left your lips as he gently ground his hips against yours, the subtle friction making your stomach flutter. Chan was slow, his movements deliberate, but there was something in the way he pressed against you—something that made your body respond immediately. You could feel his hard length against your thigh, and it made you ache with need.

His fingers traced down your sides, tugging at your clothes slowly, taking his time to savor every moment. His lips never left your skin, each kiss and touch a mark of love, but also desire.

When he finally moved to kiss your lips again, you moaned softly into the kiss, pulling him closer as your legs instinctively parted for him. His hips moved against yours once more, slow and purposeful, the friction making you shiver beneath him. He was already making you ache, the pressure building in all the right ways.

"You feel so good," he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "So perfect, baby."

And then, his hand slid beneath your waistband, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your panties as he gently pulled them down, exposing you to him. He moved slowly, as if savoring every moment of this. His fingers traced over your soft folds, teasing the sensitive skin, making your breath hitch.

With a soft growl, he moved lower, his lips following the path his fingers had taken, and you could feel your heart race as his breath tickled your inner thighs. You gasped softly as his mouth pressed against your heat, his tongue circling your clit with a slow, deliberate motion. You couldn’t help the moan that slipped from your lips as he continued, the sensation of his mouth on you enough to make you forget everything but him.

He worked you with perfect precision, each flick of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you. You arched your back, your hands grabbing at the sheets as he licked and sucked at you, the pressure building with each passing second.

But just as you felt yourself getting close, Chan pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he hovered above you. "You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice thick and full of hunger.

His hips shifted, and you felt the hot press of his length against you once more. He moved slowly, his hands on your hips guiding you as he began to rub against you, the dry humping adding just the right amount of friction. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch.

"Channie, please," you begged softly, your voice filled with need. The desperate tone in your voice made him growl low in his chest, his hands gripping you tighter as he shifted, pressing into you just a little more with each roll of his hips.

"So needy, baby," he muttered, his voice rough as he finally slid inside you. The slow stretch, the perfect way he filled you, made you gasp and sigh as your body melted beneath him. His pace was tender at first, as he gently pulled out and thrust back in, giving you both time to savor the connection.

With each movement, each soft groan of pleasure, you could feel yourself getting lost in him. Your hands moved to his back, nails dragging lightly over his skin as his hips met yours in a steady rhythm, slow and gentle but building with intensity.

His breath was ragged against your ear as he whispered, "I love you, so much."

His pace quickened then, but still, there was no urgency. It was the kind of lovemaking that made you feel cherished, adored, loved. His hand moved between your bodies, his fingers brushing over your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

You moaned his name, your body trembling beneath him, the pressure building as his thrusts became more insistent. And when you finally tumbled over the edge, your body spasming in release, Chan followed right after you, his body trembling as he buried his face in your neck, holding you close as you both rode out your high together.

Slowly, gently, he pulled out, and you both collapsed back into the bed, tangled in each other’s arms, still connected. The warmth of his body wrapped around you as he whispered soft words of praise and love, his hands tracing soothing patterns over your skin.

"I’ve got you, sunshine," he murmured. "I love you. Always."

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart full as you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, the world outside forgotten as you both drifted into a peaceful, sleepy embrace.

[wvffles]

ohhhhhhhhh goshhh 😩 the anticipation continuessss

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.” “She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

the fact that this is how he sees their story, yet he's still chosen to be a dirty lying no good scoundrel really grinds my gears. like he needed to forget his name? I could smack him with a frying pan rapunzel style for the same effect lol

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

my immediate thought was well try harder 😭 and i did feel bad for a second, then I finished the chapter…i stand by my statement 😅

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

so real lmaoo

her inner conflict tugged at my heartstrings, i'm just glad she's giving herself some grace at least <3 it’s a difficult situation all around

the flowers!!! 😩 oh dean :( and michael is truly a classic douche like sir you cannot just magically make it better with some flowers and dinner 🙂‍↔️🤚🏽

Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

i would get so violent are you kiddingg meeeee

it’s bad enough he’s sleeping with a floozy on the regular but to take his wife’s money as well to fund that is actually beyond ballsy and insane. i hate them, justice for my girl fr 🫶🏽:(

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

ngl I had to put my phone down for a moment and yell into a pillow because dean, what the hell man 😩

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

oh dean, getting stabbed would’ve probably hurt less

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

mine’s breaking too dean 😔 i’m just glad he’s trying to ‘fix it’ somewhat immediately instead of just letting her leave like that.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

yeah my heart is definitely broken 🥺 i’m glad they didn’t end things off with hostility and got to have that bittersweet moment at least 😔

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

oh they’d work on me for sure 😭

Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

…

Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

my heart aches, this chapter was so sad 😩 (not in a bad way!!🫶🏽) I feel for all three of them 😔🤍

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

ahhhhhh the cliffhanger! i’m guessing he found something illegal and/or dangerous 🤔 the preview is making me anxiousss, he better not hurt her! 😩

this was a wonderful chapter, very excited to see the drama unfold!!💗💗

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Now we get into the aftermath of the night before, with all the insecurity and heartbreak to go along with it. 💙

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “Danke Shoen” by Wayne Newton

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Mentions of cheating, angsty angst, trauma/PTSD, and a cliffhanger…

✨ Series Masterlist

🎵 YouTube Playlist || Spotify Playlist

Part 4: Complicit

Sam would give Michael one thing. The guy damn well knew how to drink.

He didn’t stop all night, throwing back whiskey like it was cheap beer. His words began to slur, his movements sloppy, but he was still coherent. When he got up to visit the men’s restroom, Sam got up as well. Maybe he could get Michael talking.

Sam stopped the other man from tripping into the urinal. The two laughed it off, with Michael thanking him before he unzipped to finish his business. Sam did the same.

After washing their hands, Sam looked over and noticed Michael’s gaze lingering on his own reflection in the mirror. It was becoming a rough sight—his blonde hair no longer neatly coiffed, purplish rings under his eyes, the stench of alcohol clinging to his skin and clothing.

“You all right there, Milligan?” Sam asked.

Michael ran a hand over his face, sighing when it didn’t get any better.

“Fine,” he replied. “So, Winchester. What did you say you do for work again? Something about your own business?”

Sam nodded. “I started up a law firm.”

That much, he had to be honest about. It was all too easy for someone to look up his name in the directory.

“Sounds like a good outfit,” Michael said, with an incline of his head. “Every lawyer I know wears a Rolex.”

Sam chuckled, glancing down at his father’s watch. “Well, I’m not quite there yet.”

“Someday soon, I’m sure,” said Michael. He bumped Sam conspiringly on the shoulder.

“And you?” Sam asked. “What’s keeping the lights on at your place?”

Michael raised a hand to sort through his unruly hair, a dirtier blonde in this unflattering light.

“Well, you could say I’ve inherited a business of my own,” he said. “I run a meat packing plant down in the district.”

Sam’s attention piqued. There had been a meat rationing during the war, even some rumors and propaganda about “meatleggers,” black market operators.

“How’s it been with the rations?” Sam asked. “Been hard to even find a good carton of eggs lately.”

Michael gave him a slight smile. “Been on the turnaround, actually. I’ve been able to make some connections with vendors outside the city. A little grease on the palms makes a little go a long way, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly smiled and nodded. A little grease on the palms, huh?

“Do what you gotta do in the times, ‘s what I say,” Sam agreed.

Michael snorted. “Now you’re talkin’. That’s all we can do, you know. Try to make a thing work, with whatever scraps we get. Try to stay afloat.”

“Try to stay alive,” Sam rejoined.

Michael made a low sound of approval. He became more contemplative, crossing his arms as he once again glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sam’s gaze on the other man was perceptive, gaining ever closer to what seemed to be eating at the very core of him. Whether Sam actually believed what he was saying or not, each of his words was a test, a subtle nudge.

“You know,” Michael said. “I was shot down in France.”

Sam sobered further. Leaning against the counter, he retrieved two cigarettes and a lighter. He didn’t often smoke, but he thought it might keep the other man talking. He handed one over to Michael, and he took it gratefully. They lit up together and coiled musky tobacco smoke into the air.

“Where?” Sam asked.

Michael snorted, huffing a bit of smoke. “Lord knows. But when I woke up, I had stitches from here to here.”

He gestured to the back of his head, all the way to above his brow. It explained a small, but noticeable scar near his temple.

“And I had an angel standing over me,” he added, his eyes growing heavy. Guilty. “A bona fide angel. She’d stitched me up, she told me. She also told me I was lucky to be alive. The doc wanted to toe tag me and be done with it, but she thought I still had some fight left in me.”

Michael shook his head. “The next chance I got, I married her.”

Sam’s brows rose. He knew you had been a nurse, but he hadn’t known this part of your story.

“A wartime romance, huh?” he said. Michael quirked a smile.

“She was my anchor,” he said. “After it was all said and done, she followed me here, held my feet down to the ground. Sometimes she had to hammer me down, ya know.”

He hesitated, his eyes somewhat glazing over. He stared over Sam’s shoulder at something only he could see.

“But sometimes…sometimes an anchor just feels suffocating,” he said. “Sometimes, you need to forget your own damn name. Forget that your entire life and mortgage is in a warehouse that might as well be a freezer full a’ dead cow meat. And still, it smells a hell of a lot better than lying on a dirty cot—where the last guy who had your spot probably got his leg sawed off.” 

Michael considers the cigarette in his hand for a long while before he takes another puff.

Sam exhales smoke as well. He spent the last three years behind a desk, but he sees the same shaken core in Michael Milligan that he too often sees in his older brother.

“You know, Winchester, there’s two kinds of men,” Michael said, just a hint of a slur in his voice. “The ones who pray to live…and the ones who beg for it to be over.”

“And what kind of man are you now?” Sam asked. His tone was loose, but his gaze was sharp.

Michael snorted. He dabbed the butt of his cigarette on the inside of the sink before he threw it away.

“I’m the guy who can’t die,” he muttered.

He rolled his shoulders, as if to let the weight of his words and everything that came along with them to roll off his back. Then he pushed his way out of the bathroom, leaving Sam considering more than just half a cigarette.

That night after Dean left, you slept in the guest room instead of your bed. You couldn’t even bring yourself to sleep next to Michael when he stumbled in at four in the morning, especially now that you had seen his game with your own eyes. 

However, you also felt complicit yourself the next morning. You felt…ashamed. You took your vows seriously. You had never in your life thought you would be someone so brazen. You never thought you would dishonor your husband as well as yourself.

And yet. All while you got ready for work, hearing Michael’s snores from the other room, your mind was filled with warmth and memory—of Dean. His smile, his voice, his eyes, his lips, and of course, his hands. You couldn’t decide which of them was your favorite, but his hands were high on the list. 

You shouldn’t have let him in, you reminded yourself. You nibbled on your lower lip while you prepped the coffee maker. You should have told him goodnight at the door and saw him off. You should very well not have invited him up to the apartment, let alone drank with him, or let him touch you…

You paused while the sound of percolation and the smell of fresh coffee filled the kitchen. You looked up at yourself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. The woman looking back at you was conflicted at best.

Yes, you felt guilty. But at the same time, you didn’t. Was it really betraying your marriage if your husband had been doing far worse, and for God knew how long?

No. This wasn’t a marriage. This was a sham. A mockery of the very thing.

You frowned angrily and almost slammed the carafe on the counter when the coffee was done. Forcing yourself to take a few steadying breaths, you allowed that hate and anger to slowly drain out of you, and you smiled.

You marveled that you could smile at all, but it was only thanks to Dean Winchester.

What the hell am I doing?

Dean stared at the two bouquets of flowers. One was a bound bunch of red roses, the other was wildflowers and other colorful ones he didn’t know the names of. He was having a hard time deciding, namely because he didn’t know what kind of flowers you liked.

Because after all, he barely knew you.

He sighed down at the roses. They were pretty, but expensive. He could imagine your surprise, followed by your smile—the one that actually lit up your eyes and changed your whole face, made you sweeter, almost shy.

I’m buying flowers for a married woman.

The thought managed to make him pause, with a rough exhale of breath. The truth was, he’d crossed the line with you. More than once.

The hard part about it was, he didn’t really care. He did wonder if you cared.

He wondered if you’d be embarrassed to see him again. He wondered if you wanted to keep last night a memory, and nothing more. He wondered if he was better off booking his train home now, and leaving some kind of note for you with Sam. Dean didn’t think he wanted to see that look of mortification on your face, the whiskey finally cleared from your mind to see what he really was: a man with no job, no commitments, and very little prospects on the horizon.

“Ah, ‘scuse me,” a young man said from Dean’s left side.

“Oh, sorry,” Dean said, making way for the guy. He wasn’t quite as tall as Dean, lithe, blonde, and blue-eyed. He grabbed an arrangement of blue and yellow iris flowers from the case and took it up to the front. The florist seemed to recognize him.

“Oh, Michael! Been a while since I’ve seen you,” he said.

When the florist asked about you as well, the mention of your name rang between Dean’s ears. A feeling like inky claws raked through his chest; he raised his head from the roses and finally recognized Michael Milligan. He was the same man Dean had spotted in your wedding pictures hanging on the wall last night, right in the foyer.

“She’s all right,” Michael chuckled. “Truth be told, I’ve been working late this week. Hoping to surprise her tonight, take her out to dinner. Somewhere nice, you know.” 

“Oh, really? Why don’t you take her to that nice steakhouse off of Broadway…” the florist twittered on as he continued to ring up Michael’s order.

Anger and disgust prickled under Dean’s skin, his fists clenched at his sides. More than anything, he wanted to turn around and lay your husband out flat. If he thought one little bouquet and a Salisbury steak was going to wash him clean, then he was an idiot as well as a selfish bastard.

But Dean knew, deep down, that Michael would be just as justified to throw a swing right back at him.

So Dean left the flowers, the flower shop, and the entire busy street and all its blaring sounds behind.

During your lunch break, you quickly made the trek over to Sam’s office. He’d called you this morning with a story that only confirmed everything you’d inherently felt, and yet, some of it still managed to shock you. 

You didn’t even have the patience to wait until after work, but when you got there, he reassured you. It had taken him a few rounds of poker and discreetly following Michael and Dolores after they exited through the back of the club…but Sam had gotten the evidence not long after. They weren’t exactly discreet in the alley. Or in the nearby motel.

You had the envelope in hand filled with the pictures he’d developed from his camera.  

“You don’t have to look,” he advised. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“No, I want to see it,” you said. You took the pictures out, and your expression didn’t change as you look through them all. Each position captured was more compromising than the next between Michael and Dolores Daye. Apparently, he was paying most of her bills as well with your combined household funds. So part of your own money was financing his exploits.

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. He was sincere, with those hazel eyes of his.

You nodded and gave him back the envelope. “What’s next?”

“I went ahead and filed the petition. I’ll take this right to the clerk’s office myself.”

“How long will it take to be over?”

“As long as Michael plays along, should be quick. A few months at most, after he’s served the divorce papers and signs them,” Sam assured.

A few months? That wasn’t quick enough in your book, but you agreed with a nod. You got up from the chair opposite his desk. You hesitated there.

“Oh, I meant to ask…how’s your brother?” you said.

Sam began to smile, but he tempered it. “He just called before you came in. He let me know he was stepping out for a walk.”

“Oh, really? Did he happen to say where?”

You not only found Dean in Central Park, but close to the very same bench you two had sat on yesterday and talked the night away. He was surprised, but he smiled when he saw you. Your pace quickened, until you were hastening over to him. He welcomed you into his arms. He bent his head towards yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. Instead, he pressed his forehead to yours for a moment.

“Well, look who’s here?” he teased. “How’d you find me?”

“I stopped by Sam’s office,” you said, holding onto the lapels of his coat. A cold November wind pushed at you both, ruffling your clothes. “The paperwork is on its way. Soon enough, I won’t be a married woman anymore.”

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind your ear and smiled, but it didn’t altogether reach his eyes.

“How soon is soon?” he asked.

“A few months, according to your brother.”

Dean nodded, taking a deep breath. “That’s good…but, I need to head home for a little while.”

That made you pause, tilting your head in confusion. Though you supposed it made sense. He was only here visiting his brother. He was planning on going home eventually.

But surely, that was before we… You lowered your gaze.

“Back to Lawrence?” you asked. Again, he nodded.

“I need to take care of some things, figure out my next move,” he said.

You pulled away from him to brace yourself, and not just against the cold. “Well, when will you be back?” 

He stayed quiet, worrying you even more. There was a deep pit forming in your stomach, churning with unease.  

“Dean?” you prodded.

He stepped back in to grasp your arms gently.

“Sweetheart…the truth is, I don’t have much to offer you,” he said. “I don’t have a business to inherit from my folks. I don’t even have a job. I’m a man who was about as useful as a jackhammer, until the war ended.”

You frowned, resting a hand against his chest. “Dean Winchester, that’s not all there is to you.”

“Really. When did you figure that one out, in the whole week you’ve known me?” he asked. It was harsher than he meant to be, but he couldn’t help the words that were spilling out of his mouth. “Didn’t that get you in trouble the first time? I’d a thought you would’ve learned your lesson by now.”

You snatched your hand back, hurt filling your eyes. You turned to walk away before he saw your tears. You should have known. You should have known a man like him would never be serious. Not about you. 

As soon as he let the words go, Dean realized what he was doing. Yeah, he was frustrated, but it wasn’t aimed at you. It couldn’t be aimed at you.

God knew he didn’t want to hurt you, or for you to hate him. He really couldn’t stomach either thought, so he relented and reached out to grab at your hand, before you could get too far. 

“Wait,” he said, managing to pull you back to him. “I’m sorry.”

You tugged your hand to try and free yourself from his grasp. 

“You know what, maybe you’re right,” you said, your voice wobbling with anger, dismay, and tears. “Maybe I ought to stop letting a man get even an inch into my heart. At this point, it’s my own fault.”

“Stop,” Dean demanded. “No, it’s not.” 

He pulled you back into him, but you looked away from his imploring gaze. Your breaths grew shallow while you tried in vain to stop yourself from crying. It damn well broke his heart.

“It’s not your fault. I’m just an idiot,” He cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears as they fell. “But you…you deserve to be happy. With a man that can take care of you, protect you. A man who has a little more of his life figured out.”

“You’re just saying that so you have an excuse for toying with me. So you can keep chasing skirts,” you said, pushing at his chest. “Yes, your brother told me about all your little exploits.”

Dean took the blow, both proverbial and physical, with a raise of his brows. He guessed he couldn’t blame you for that one. Still, the disdain behind your words stung. He allowed you to break free of him.

You stepped back and straightened your clothes. You took in a deep breath that did nothing to calm you, and you uttered a humorless laugh.

“I suppose it makes sense. Why would you want anything to do with me?” You gestured down at yourself with a dismissive hand. “A-a walking mess. Even when I am divorced, that’s how people will see me. Damaged goods. I don’t even know how I’m gonna tell my parents.”

You covered your face against Dean and the rest of the world, and after weeks and months, you finally allowed yourself the one thing you hadn’t since your first inkling that your husband was being unfaithful. You finally allowed yourself to break.

The first sob shuddered through your body, followed by hot tears. You squeezed your eyes against them and wiped at your face in vain.

Dean broke too, in his own way. He gathered you into his arms, where he shushed you gently and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

“I wasn’t giving you an excuse,” he said.

Despite how much you wanted to push him away, the deep, steady timbre of his voice pierced you and soothed you at the same time.

“I meant every word I said. I may not be the right guy for you, but don’t you dare take a scrap of what anyone else might say, you hear me?” he said firmly. “You’re beautiful. You don’t suffer fools like me, and you’re better than that sad sack excuse of a man deserves.”

You looked up at him with watery eyes.

“You’re a lot of things, Dean Winchester, but you’re not a fool.”

He shook his head, not wanting to argue with you anymore. He just kissed you, deeply, thoroughly, the way you always imagined a kiss should be.

Except that you realized…this was goodbye. So you took advantage of every second of it.

You met him with as much as he gave and reached up to touch his cheek. It felt a little rough under your fingers, just like you remembered. You would probably always remember that feeling, long after you left the park.

That evening, you packed as many bags as you could. You put together the savings you’d been collecting for a few months. It had been at your coworker Jess’s advice, ever since you started feeling the inkling that something wasn’t right in your marriage.

After you were all packed, you took one last, long look at the space you had tried to make your home. With one last tear trailing your cheek, you stepped out of the apartment. You took the bus uptown, where you later checked into a hotel. 

When your husband finally got home from work, he would find a one-page letter written in your own hand. 

For once, Sam was actually home in his apartment. He was helping Dean take his suitcase to the front door after calling a taxi to come shortly. Sam wasn’t happy about it though.

“You don’t have to go so soon, Dean,” said Sam.

Dean gave a humorless laugh. He grabbed his coat from the rack and threw it on.

“I’ve gotta get back to the house. It’s already been empty too long,” he said. Three years too long. “Fact is, I’m just getting in your way here.”

He couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eyes as he went to the door, but Sam stopped him with a pressing hand on his arm, tugging him back.

“Hey,” Sam said, his brows furrowed. “That’s not true. Where’d you get that idea?”

Dean raised his brows. “You mean the way you’ve haven’t been home more than a few hours a night? The way the only time I see you is if I go find you at that office. You should open up a Bed n’ Breakfast there. You’d make a double killing in this town.”

Sam wilted. “Dean, we opened the firm barely a month ago. I’m just trying to—”

Dean laid a hand on his shoulder, relenting.

“Hey, look. I’m not judging you, Sammy. I’m not,” he said. “You’re building something. I know that. I just need to go figure out how to do the same, whatever that means for me.”

Sam stared back at him, still with that frown. His guilt and reluctance to see Dean go was reflected in his eyes; those sad puppy dog eyes that used to get him out of almost any punishment with their parents when the boys were young. Before.

The corner of Dean’s mouth kicked up into a smirk.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see you again soon,” he said.

“How soon is soon?” Sam asked. It was something their mother used to say to John whenever he called late, promising he’d come home after long days in town buying supplies for the farm.

“The divorce papers will be served to Michael Milligan,” Sam added, pointedly raising his brows. “She…could use your support.”

Dean’s smile faded at the mention of you. His hand slipped from Sam’s shoulder.

“She’s got a strong head on her shoulders. She’ll be all right,” he said. He heard the honk of the taxi outside. He grabbed up his hat, set it on his head, and took up his bags. He turned back to Sam at the last moment. “I’m sure you’ll look out for her.”

It was somehow both a question, and an imploring charge. Sam sighed, but he nodded in agreement. His brother could be so very stubborn. Once he got an idea of what he thought he needed to do, there was almost no talking him out of it.

Sam opened the door for him and walked him out to the car, helping him with his bags. Before Dean could get into the cab, Sam stopped him. Their gazes met, but in that moment, no words were needed.

They pulled one another into a firm hug.

I’m sorry. I should’ve been there more for you.

Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten.

Dean released him first with a smile, and a heavy pat of Sam’s shoulder. He turned and climbed into the cab’s backseat. Afterwards, Sam watched the yellow cab take his brother away to the train station, feeling a weight in his heart that wouldn’t subside.

He would never know that Dean felt exactly the same way. Except that impossible weight felt a lot like your hand, gently laid over his heart.

Dean took up his suitcase as the train pulled into the station. He stepped up onto the platform and retrieved the ticket from his pocket, but he paused, hearing a familiar voice shouting his name.

He turned his head and saw Sam rushing to meet him at the platform.

“What’s the matter? What’re you doing here?” Dean asked in surprise. He didn’t like the wary apprehension written across Sam’s face.

“I just took a closer look at Milligan’s finances,” he said. “Before you go, there’s something you might want to know.”

AN: Come on, we needed at least one cliffhanger in this series! 😘 What do you think Sam rushed over to tell Dean? What did you think about their "goodbye," as well as her and Dean's goodbye? ...And are you ready for all the drama that's about to go down? lol 

Next Time:

Except the loud, insistent knock on the door broke you out of your thoughts. Straightening up with a frown, you set down your glass and went over to the door. Maybe it was Housekeeping coming up to bring you the fresh towels you asked for. The ones that had been laid out in the bathroom smelled musty.

You opened the door to a tall frame taking up room in the doorway. It was Michael, standing there both disheveled and steaming mad. He held your letter crumpled in his left hand. 

“Michael, what—what’re you doing here?” you gasped and stepped back. He followed you inside the room and slammed it shut. He looked around at your open suitcases in disbelief, then finally at you.

“What’s this supposed to mean, huh?” he demanded to know. He shook the flimsy piece of paper at you.

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[avifaunaa]

stars blind [ they fall and leave the sky ] [ pt. 2 ]

Authors Note: I’m so incredibly glad everyone seemed to enjoy the first part of this series! If anyone has requested to be put onto a tag list for this series, I’ll try to remember to add it in. Also to add: apologies for the shorter update -- this is meant to be a bridge between One and Three, so it fills in some gaps.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART THREE

Pairing: Feyre Archeron x fem!reader x Rhysand / Platonic!Inner Circle x fem!reader

Summary: Feyre and Rhysand find their mating marks that are duplicates to your own — perfect matches — and have a discussion what that means. Amren and Mor make a decision together. Windweaver hides.

Content Warnings: Mating bonds + discussion thereof [ reminder: this is canon in nature, but i take liberties and play around with mating bonds thus deepening the meaning of this AU ], Court politics, mentions of Windweaver’s past trauma that is not directly gone into this chapter, cliffhanger [ sorry ]

Word Count: ~3.7k

You wait in the spacious entry way of the home of Iris — a chirpy blonde High Fae who was incredibly well known for watching children for a fair price while parents worked or tended to other matters.

Mor had been the one to give her a place for you — it was increasingly difficult to get into the daycare and the fact that Mor put in a word for you was a kindness you could never pay back.

You were the last to arrive as you usually were — but Iris never seemed to mind. She understood your position in this new world and was accommodating and it was once more a kindness that you couldn’t afford.

You refused to look at yourself in the large mirror hanging above the entrance to the side. Now that you knew what was engraved into your skin, you would never be able fully hide it. Or escape whatever bond thrummed on the other side.

And yet you felt nothing. Nothing but empty black loneliness when you reached out to where your mother told you mating bonds usually rested in that part of the soul, in that part of the heart, in that part of the mind.

Nothing was there, and that was perhaps the best part of it even when it stung like nettle. It meant that whoever the Cauldron found you worthy to mate with was unaware and uninterested in a bond.

Until they found their own marks, you supposed.

“Here she is!” Iris sang, walking out with Astraea sleeping soundly, drooling on her shoulder.

“Oh, she’s knocked out,” you said with a smile, heart warming soundly at the sight of your daughter. Black hair and pale skin — features of your mother, her eyes belonging to a man long since gone.

“We painted today,” Iris told you as she made the exchange, sliding Astra into your hold. The tiny little thing wrapped arms around your shoulders, snuggling in close and sighing but not waking a second. “Next time you come in I’ll give it to you. Our High Lady will be coming in soon to teach a class.”

“The High Lady?” You didn’t hide your surprise. She hadn’t been seen out since the birth of her son — unless it was to walk through the Rainbow. You knew little around the events of the little one’s birth, other than rumors about wings and pain.

“Oh yes. She decided she’s going to come help out with the children — and bring Nyx, too. He needs socialization with other children his age. But it seems Astra is the closest to it right now.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, a nervous tick unsettling the heart within your chest.

"Oh, that will be wonderful," you say out loud instead of voicing your fears. You had yet to be approached by the High Lord or his Lady about your heritage and Mor and Amren had both been as welcoming as members of the Inner Circle can afford to be to newcomers.

You exchanged a few more pleasantries, your payment is given to Iris, and you are quick to whisk your sleepy daughter off. You are greeted by the chilly air and your scarf does little to keep the bite from your cheeks that comes with the breeze.

The walk to your rented apartment is five minutes from Iris' home and it was nice. You felt like you could easily get everywhere within easy walking distance and not have to use your magic to speed your walking along.

Not that you would have used your magic at all.

You walk up the side stairs on the building, climbing up and up and up until you reach the third floor. Your door was the first on the right and the bulky key was heavy and cold in your jacket's pocket when you pulled it free and pushed it into the key hole, twisting, unlocking, opening.

The apartment was nearly bare. It was furnished with the help of Mor -- thanks to her kindness to you. But it was basic and non-matching. You weren't here all the time -- either you spent time here with your daughter or slept. You preferred to take Astra out to explore the world and enjoy her surroundings while simultaneously exposing her to new things.

Astra's room was the most decorated, the most furnished, and the most cared for. You laid her down in her bed and got her dressed in her pajamas, all the while she hardly woke. She stuffed her thumb in her mouth and sighed as you pulled the covers over her.

You started toward the bathroom, removing earrings and clothes as you went.

That's the mating mark of a High Lord.

You find yourself standing in front of the dingy mirror in the bathroom — which was otherwise beautifully designed. Clean. Better than what you were once used to after Armantha’s takeover.

But when had it appeared? Mating marks were incredibly rare -- to the point that they were often forgotten about in history. They were connected to the more biological parts of Fae -- back when mating was more led by survival and the need to breed. Only those with very old bloodlines had mating marks anymore; bloodlines that predate much of even Old Prythian.

You pushed yourself off the sink, still tracing the outline you found yourself memorizing as you leaned over the tub to get the water started. It felt no different on your skin, had no way of showing itself other than its appearance.

You waited for the water to fill all the way to the top with near boiling heat. You never wanted to touch cold water again — even to drink. You drank it warm or you drank tea. You sank into the tub and shivered as the heat encased your skin and filled all the chilly, empty parts of you.

To have a mark that now only really ran through the lines of High Lords . . . that did not bode well on your end. Mostly because you've seen how angry High Fae males get when females have already been mated once before, but because it would force you to reveal your location to the very people you've been ensuring never find you.

Rhysand was frowning at her, and Feyre did not particularly enjoy it. She was rubbing some cream into her hands and trying to ignore him altogether.

He was all in a fuss lately and as much as she wanted to know what was getting to him this time, she figured he'd tell her if he really wanted to.

She settled under the covers with her book half-opened, getting comfortable against her lower back. After Nyx even with Nesta's wish, she still retained an ache from her pregnancy. It was manageable but not entirely easy to get rid of.

"Feyre, darling," her husband starts, "when did you get that?"

Feyre turns the page of her book before she humors him, tilting her face up. He's sat on the edge of the bed eyeing her, purple eyes twinkling with shock.

"The book?" she asked slyly, shutting it. "Nesta lent it to me. She said--"

Rhysand rolled his eyes. "I do not need to know what sort of filth your sister has you read when I'm not there to chaperone. I can't begin to think."

"It's a female on female romance, with sex."

Rhysand paused, blinked as if shocked, then rubbed his face with his hand. "We will address that at a later time. I have questions I think I will want answers too." He then pointed slightly to her left. "I meant that, just under your ear, of course."

Feyre reached her fingers up to trace under her ear as Rhysand had pointed out to her. She felt nothing but her studded earrings, done sometime after Nyx’s birth. “I don’t feel anything,” she said slowly, raising one of her brows at her mate.

He got to his feet and walked around the side of the bed and held out his palm. “Come with me, darling.”

Feyre hated to get out of bed now that she had gotten comfortable, but she put her book aside anyway and took his hand. He gently tugged her to the mirror on the far corner of the room, twirling her in a circle.

Feyre laughed at him, a bright smile lighting up hear features as he swung her to his front, arms wrapped around her just under her chest. He pressed a warm kiss to her cheek as they locked eyes in the mirror.

“My beautiful Feyre darling,” he said. His gaze was so soft, a rare sight that not many in the lands got to see. He reached up and began moving her hair away from the side of her head he had previously pointed out to her.

“Mm.” She watched him lazily, fingers tracing designs into his arm. She stopped her playing when she noticed what he had initially wanted her to see.

“That’s new,” she said, pulling herself out of his arms so she could lean forward and peer at the twirls and markings that cornered themselves behind her pointed ear. “I don’t think I’ve had that before. Did I?”

He shook his head, rubbing his jawline. “It’s . . . No. It’s an old magic, attached usually to a Fae with an old bloodline when they become mated.”

Feyre stared at him. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t get it when we first mated.”

“You wouldn’t have, no,” Rhysand agreed, staring at the mark nervously. “I think . . . Well, I have an idea already on what it could mean and why you have it.”

Feyre turned around and bit her lip, peering at him with just as much nervousness. “I’d love to hear your idea, because if it’s connected to bloodlines that means it’s connected to yours somehow.”

“It connects very old bloodlines, I should say,” he told her, scratching his head as he thought over his words, “From a very old time when we still ran on pure instinct rather than reason. A time where magic was more alive, and it helped us. It would connect bloodlines that were stronger, more resilient.”

Feyre blinked at him. “Are you saying that you’re from one of those lines?”

“All High Lord families are. Many high society families are, actually. It’s how we got as far as we did. The marking wouldn’t have appeared on you initially because you were a human, once, and the old magic that runs in bloodlines like mine is thought by scholars to be being bred out over time.”

Feyre crosses her arms, resisting the urge to reach up and scratch the skin there. It suddenly itched now that she knew she had a shiny new marking there. “That makes sense. So it’s genetic. But it still makes no sense why I have it now.”

“Because I do believe there’s another factor at play.” He folded his hands, rubbing them together and not meeting her eyes.

“Rhys.” She reached her own hand out, hoping her touch soothed him. “Together. We can face whatever this is together — and you can tell me anything.”

“I think we have a third mate out there, somewhere,” he admitted quietly. “This is not a desire I have but a theory. If this potential mate has come into close contact at some point, their scent would have activated the other’s genetic magic in their bloodstream.”

Feyre breathed out through her nostrils, taking in this information carefully. “Old magic that has a play in with genetics. I’m your true mate, but there’s also another one out there for us that shares a bond? Wouldn’t we have known?”

“It’s . . . different with the old magic. It lies dormant,” Rhysand explained as he led his wife back to bed and sat next to her on the mattress. “It only activates when a suitable mate has been scented. Like I said, it ties back to when we were living on baser instincts and our mating bonds were less decided by fate and the Cauldron.”

“So my mating bond to you is different than the mating bond we have with this person?” Feyre clarified, not angry, simply confused.

“In how it is formed carnally only, it will never change my bond with you nor will it make me desire you any less,” Rhysand assured her firmly, cupping her cheek and rubbing the jutted bone, beautiful and perfect in his eyes. “All I know is that we have a third, but because we’ve been out of the public for months . . .”

“It could have been anyone our friends’ scents dragged in,” Feyre finished, understanding. She felt comforted by Rhysand’s words but . . . But now that she allowed the words to fixate in her mind, she couldn’t help but lack anxiety in regard to her stability with Rhysand, only . . . Curiosity. Perhaps a need to understand.

Rhysand smiled sadly. “Yes. And whoever lies on the other end of the bond won’t be able to form a connection to us like we have to one another until we can . . . Consummate the bond, not unless we want to use our Daementi powers on them.”

“Is that more old magic at work?”

Rhysand nodded at her, and Feyre bit her lip. She thought over the entire binder of information Rhysand just threw on top of her. But honestly — thinking it over, it didn’t create an ugly animal of jealousy to think of their unnamed mate with Rhys. Or with her. Or with her and Rhys.

It was a lot, and maybe they needed to sleep a bit over it. To digest what this will mean for them as a couple, and for their dynamic, and for their family.

But Feyre’s gut told her nothing terrible could come from this — not if her mating with Rhysand was anything to go on.

Amren and Mor stared at each other three hours after Windweaver had made a hasty escape from the tavern, leaving them in her dust.

Rita had pretty much closed up around the two of them. She lived upstairs and Mor was someone who was trusted with a key if they stayed longer than Rita stayed open.

It was just them at their table, still sitting in complete silence as though afraid to speak aloud what they had experienced hours ago. What Windweaver had experienced.

“We should tell them,” Amren said for the fifth time as Mor brought the entire bottle of wine to her lips and drank.

“Why? I mean, I agree. Nothing comes from keeping information from our High Lord and Lady,” Mor said, head tilting back over the chair, “But do we want to put this stress on them? They were just discussing coming back out in the world. Feyre wants to take Nyx to meet other kids.”

“She has a mating mark of status. Old status, but status,” Amren ground out, and Mor could almost hear her canines gnashing against her other teeth.

“Yes, this is true.” Mor takes her feet off the table and leans close to Amren. “But do you know what bringing attention to this might mean? What it could do to her?”

Amren spun a ring — one of many and of little value to her, likely from Rhysand back when she was still a darker force much more dangerous than this one — on her index finger, long nail unbreaking against the metal.

“There are consequences to whatever actions we plan to take,” the darker haired female acknowledged begrudgingly. “But I dislike the ones that come with keeping this from Rhysand and Feyre.”

Mor hated to agree, but she couldn’t find it in her to disagree. She wanted Windweaver’s safety put at the top of their to-do list, but they’ll have to find a way to ensure that without keeping their High Lord and Lady in the dark about this.

“Fine,” Mor said, “we’ll bring it up. Tonight?”

Amren stole the bottle from her blonde friend, taking a swig from it. “If the girl’s still awake. She seems to go to bed early these days after the prince was born.”

Mor tapped her fingers along the tabletop. “Fine, tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” Amren agreed.

They stayed to finish the bottle, falling into a silence of two respected comrades and friends.

You wake with a gasp as sweat soaked your forehead and dripped down your temples like raindrops.

You clutched your chest where the weight you felt in your nightmare had struck you and glanced around you rapidly as the heartbeat in your ears timed with the feeling in your chest.

Enclosed walls, four. A wood flooring with a soft rug in the middle of the room. A soft thick quilt, patched, that you gave birth in and carried your daughter around in for two long years before carting her here in it.

Not in the Spring Court. Away from the sickly smell of fresh flowers in bloom all year around and constant lukewarm weather that was too little for you to feel alive.

It was still dark outside, but you could see the hints of dawn beginning to reveal itself over the horizon. No sun.

Your favorite time of day.

You pushed the sheets and quilt off, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and sighing shakily as you gazed out the window for a moment to just take in the view.

You eventually got out of bed entirely; if you didn't you were at risk for not getting out at all for the rest of the day. That was not a type of day you could afford to have.

You went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast for Astra, and while the eggs cooked you got her up. "S'ello Mama," she garbled.

"Hi, baby," you greeted, kissing her forehead and smiling warmly as she stretched her little arms out. She blinked sleepily at you. "Eggs?"

"Eggs," you agreed, holding out your hand in offer. She looked at it with hesitation as she normally did when it came to touch; she was not a child who welcomed it on a normal scale and the first two and a half years of her life play a large role in that.

She finally deemed it acceptable to place her tiny hand in yours and you smile at her, guiding her into the kitchen where smoke was now rising in the pan. "Oh no," Astra dolled.

"Shit." You set her in her chair and race toward the burnt crisps that were once eggs sizzling in the pan. You looked forlornly at the charred bits and dumped them in the sink, and instead turned to your daughter.

"Do you want to go to Caspian's for breakfast, Astra?"

Immediately the little girl's eyes lit up and she attempted to stand in her chair, "Cassie! Cassie," she garbled as you quickly went over to grab her and set her down like she wanted.

"Okay," you laughed quietly. "Lets' get you and myself dressed and we'll go see Cassie."

One hour, a toddler trying not to crawl away from every outfit you picked out, and a faceful of makeup later, you found yourself walking down the street with a babbling Astra in your arms. She was fired up now that you were well and truly on your way to her favorite place to eat.

"Oh, really?" you asked her as you passed the glass displays in the large windows. She then stuck her finger at the particular pastry that was always displayed and remained her tried and true favorite.

You opened the door and pushed your way in, causing the bell above the entrance to ring out your arrival. It was a busier morning than usual -- you tend to come before the rush so that Astra doesn't get overwhelmed, but for some reason today you weren't able to beat such a rush.

You were behind two people; both of them were huddled together and had a small babe between them. A male and female, whispering to the giggling, pudgy faced youngling.

"Windweaver!" Cassie called as she came at a brisk drift out of the kitchen, covered in sugar and flour, "Welcome! And little Astra, too!"

Just as you made to greet her back, you were cut short by the couple turning around and looking you in the eyes.

"Windweaver?" The High Lord of the Night Court repeated softly, tilting his head in interest while his wife narrowed her gaze at you.

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PART THREE

[meelusinee]

Is it cheeky to ask for more of that Mattheo and love potion thingy 🦎

of course not anon! i especially enjoyed writing this one

OBSESSION'S BEST FRIEND | M.R X READER

word count \ 908 | not so fluff | slash / mattheo riddle / fem!reader

in which mattheo figures out the lasting effects of amortentia

minor cw & tw: use of amortentia (which is considered drugging) & manipulation

Mattheo felt his face’s temperature rising as he looked at the scene currently unfolding, teeth clenched together so hard he felt they might snap out from his gums. He could hear the blood running through his veins, could listen to the laughter of his best mates next to him if he focused hard enough. 

“What are you laughing at?” he spat.

Theodore was stood next to him, arms crossed against his chest. “Your face is funny when you’re jealous, you know that?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes before he heard Lorenzo’s voice from behind, most likely behind the bar that he was leaning again. “Why are you so worried anyways? She’s your girl, you know.”

“By potion.” Theodore hummed and nudged Mattheo. Mattheo huffed at that.

Theodore and Draco often reminded him of the fact that you were only won over by a love potion, joked that he wasn’t good enough to charm you naturally. He knew that was true, at least to a certain extent. He was too broken for you to love naturally.

So he had to add a bit of incentive for you.

He could hear Blaise and Pansy walking to the bar, Pansy’s hand squeezing his shoulder from behind his back. “What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Some Ravenclaw is talking to his girl.” Enzo snorted.

And wasn’t that a crime? 

Some guy talking to you. You, his perfect angel that could never do any wrong. Those innocent eyes peering into whoever was talking to you with a dazed expression. You didn’t know that they were trying to trick you, to get you away from him. Your actions were so precious to him that he was tempted to scoop you up and place you into a blanketed cocoon with no escape. 

“You do realize she can’t escape the Amortentia anymore, right?” Blaise asked blankly. His voice was always rather deadpan.

“Course she can,” Pansy muttered confusedly. “Doesn’t it run out?”

Mattheo looked over at Blaise confusedly as well, eyebrows furrowed together. He was running on the same notion, that the potion would run out. He always made sure to bake you a batch of chocolates every week or so, wanting to make sure that you always had Amortentia in your system.

“How long have you been giving her Amortentia?” Blaise asked Mattheo.

“Almost six months.” Mattheo muttered.

“Well there you go.” Blaise shrugged simply. “Most things usually build tolerance in people’s brains, but Amortentia works in the opposite kind of way. You’ve probably doubled it so much that she won’t even react to an antidote anymore. That combined with the extra effort you put in your potions?” he said, chuckling quietly. “Her mind is fucked.”

“What, so she’s stuck like that?” Theodore asked. Lorenzo was howling laughing at that, but Mattheo’s attention was focused solely on you.

Blaise shrugged again. “The chocolate might run it down a bit, but she’s probably too gone now.”

Mattheo could feel his ears ringing at that. Did you need to take the potion directly? Would you take it willingly, or would he force it down your throat.

He was willing to find out.

You felt your wrist burning slightly as your body landed on Mattheo’s bed, shivering at the anger you could feel radiating off of him.

“Matty?” you asked quietly, sitting up to look at him confusedly. You didn’t know why he was mad. Even still, you wanted to help. He was your boyfriend, and you liked seeing him happy.

He was currently digging through drawers, obviously trying to find something. “Yes?”

“Are you okay?” you asked him quietly.

Mattheo found what he was looking for before walking over to you, kissing you as roughly as he could. “I’m just in a mood today, love.” he said.

“Can I help you?” you asked him, glad that it wasn’t anything you had done.

Mattheo smirked devilishly at that, kissing you breathless over and over again. He had a heart-shaped bottle of something in his hand, though you weren’t sure what it was. 

“What’s that?” you asked.

“You want to help me, right love?” he asked.

You nodded at his words, the need to help him overrunning your curiosity for him. “I do.”

“Then you’re gonna drink this for me, ‘kay?” he asked, holding the bottle up to your lips. His hands gripped at your chin so you couldn’t escape, fingers stretching your mouth open. You could feel drool running down the side of your face as he poured the liquid down your throat, eyes shut tight.

You grimaced at the taste before you started panting, looking at Mattheo with eyes in the shape of hearts. “Mattheo?” you panted confusedly.

“Did you like the taste of that?” he asked.

You looked at the bottle before nodding again, leaning your head forward with your tongue sticking out for more.

“Oh, you want more?” he asked, still keeping his grip on your chin as he poured more down.

Mattheo kept pouring, pouring the drink until there was nothing left to pour. He placed the glass down on the nightstand, the clink echoing in your mind as you looked up at him. “Mattheo.” you whined.

“Y/N.” he said with a small smirk on his face.

Your eyebrows furrowed confusedly, trying to figure what that was. “What was that?”

“Just a drink.” he whispered, kissing your neck up and down. 

You found yourself believing him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

a bit shorter, but mattheo nonetheless! i also like the idea of his friends knowing what was going on but not really saying anything, since we all know the slytherin boys can really be toxic guys and gals (and yet we love em still)

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a lovely day!

[rgwriteshockey]

the perfect getaway w/ nico hischier

nico hischier x gf!reader

summary: nico takes y/n on a romantic getaway to greece during the 4 nations face-off break. amidst breathtaking views and quality time, he proposes, and y/n says yes, marking the start of their future.

word count: 2k

warnings: none

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

nico hischier was always busy. between traveling, playing for the new jersey devils, and just being captain, time off was rare. that’s why, when the 4 nations face-off break came around, he knew he needed something special. he had already planned everything out, keeping it a secret from y/n, his girlfriend of nearly three years. she had no idea what he had in mind for this trip to greece.

they’d been talking about going away for a while, just the two of them. it was hard to find time when their schedules were always so packed, but now, with a little break, nico thought it was the perfect chance to get away. no distractions, no friends, no family—just them. and maybe, just maybe, he’d make this trip even more memorable than either of them could have imagined.

y/n had been excited when nico mentioned the idea of a trip. the two of them had been to a couple of places, but nothing felt as special as what nico had planned for greece. it wasn’t just about the place; it was about the timing. it was about them.

────────────────────────────────────────────

they arrived in santorini on a warm afternoon, the sun hanging low in the sky. the crisp scent of the ocean filled the air, and the whitewashed buildings with blue accents greeted them as they drove through the streets of the island.

“wow,” y/n breathed, her eyes wide as she took in the beauty of the place. “this is incredible.”

nico smiled, proud of his choice. he had been here a few years ago with his family, but this time, it felt different. it felt right, like everything was falling into place. he led her to their villa, a stunning place overlooking the caldera. the view was breathtaking, and y/n immediately started snapping pictures of the landscape, her excitement clear.

“this is perfect, nico,” she said, turning to him with a grin. “you really know how to pick a place.”

“you deserve it,” he replied, his voice soft but sincere. “it’s our time to relax.”

they settled in, unpacking their things and enjoying the view from their balcony. the villa was beautiful, with a cozy living room, a small kitchen, and large glass doors that opened out to the stunning view of the sea. the sunset was starting to color the sky in hues of orange and pink, and nico knew it was the perfect moment.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next few days were spent exploring the island, from wandering through the narrow streets of oia to relaxing on the black sand beaches. they visited ancient ruins, had lunch by the water, and watched the sunset every night. nico couldn’t help but feel like he was on top of the world, just being there with y/n. they laughed, they talked, and they completely lost track of time.

one night, after dinner at a small restaurant overlooking the sea, nico and y/n found themselves walking back to the villa hand in hand. the stars above were bright, and the soft sound of the waves crashing against the shore made everything feel peaceful.

“i can’t believe we’re really here,” y/n said, her voice dreamy as she looked up at the stars. “this is like a dream.”

“it is a dream,” nico said, his heart pounding in his chest. “but it’s real. and i’m glad it’s with you.”

y/n smiled and squeezed his hand, her eyes sparkling. “me too. this has been one of the best trips ever.”

they walked in silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other’s presence. nico couldn’t help but feel like it was the right time. the way she looked at him, the way they fit together—it felt like everything was leading up to this moment.

they reached the villa, and nico led y/n to the balcony where they had been spending a lot of their evenings. the view of the sea at night was just as beautiful as it was during the day, and the sound of the water crashing against the rocks below was soothing.

nico turned to y/n, his heart racing. “there’s something i need to tell you.”

y/n looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in curiosity. “what’s up?”

nico took a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that had settled in his stomach. he had never been great at expressing his feelings, but this was something he needed to say. “y/n, you’ve been the best part of my life. these past few years with you have been... everything. i don’t want to imagine my life without you.”

y/n’s eyes softened, and she took a small step closer to him. “nico...”

he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, holding it out to her. “i know we’ve talked about the future before, but i want to make it official. i want you by my side, always. so... y/n, will you marry me?”

for a moment, y/n just stared at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. the world seemed to stop, the sound of the waves fading into the background. nico felt like his heart might leap out of his chest.

“nico, are you serious?” y/n finally asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

“i’ve never been more serious about anything,” nico said, his voice low and sincere. “i love you. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

y/n’s eyes filled with tears, and a wide smile spread across her face. “yes, nico. yes, of course i will.”

nico grinned, relief flooding through him. he slipped the ring onto her finger, his heart swelling as she looked down at it, then back up at him. everything felt perfect in that moment. it was just the two of them, standing there under the stars, in one of the most beautiful places in the world, with the future ahead of them.

────────────────────────────────────────────

the next few days were a blur of happiness and excitement. they spent their days exploring more of the island, but now there was an added layer of joy. y/n couldn’t stop staring at the ring on her finger, and nico couldn’t stop grinning every time he saw her do it. everything felt different now, but in the best way possible.

they took a boat tour around the island, stopping at a small secluded beach where they spent the afternoon swimming in the crystal-clear water. y/n had never seen nico so happy, and she was pretty sure he had never seen her so happy either.

one afternoon, while they were sitting on the beach watching the waves, nico turned to y/n. “i can’t believe we’re getting married. it still feels surreal.”

“i know,” y/n said, resting her head on his shoulder. “but i wouldn’t want to spend the rest of my life with anyone else.”

“me neither,” nico whispered, kissing the top of her head. “you’re everything to me.”

they sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun set over the ocean. it was perfect—just like everything about their relationship. and now, with their future together ahead of them, nico couldn’t imagine ever being more content.

when it was time to head back to new jersey, both nico and y/n were reluctant to leave the island behind. but they knew there was so much more to look forward to. the next chapter of their lives was just beginning, and it was going to be an adventure of its own.

as they boarded the plane back home, nico took y/n’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. “this was just the beginning.”

y/n smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder as the plane began to taxi down the runway. “i can’t wait for everything that’s coming.”

and with that, they knew they had everything they needed—each other. and that was enough for now

[eebeewrites]

Elf Teacher x !Band Director Chubby Reader: Part 1 (18+)

This is my OC Eldrin in a more modern fantasy setting. If you’d like to read his original story, you can find that here.

After three years of playing for a professional orchestra, teaching band in the middle of bum fuck nowhere was far from ideal.

You failed to earn tenure after three years at your old job, and were removed from your position. Instead of getting back on the audition trail, you decided to try something new. You figured with your qualifications, finding a teaching job would be easy. If you had been fired at a more convenient time, maybe it would’ve, but finding a teaching job in January felt impossible.

Still, you had student loans to pay, so you took the first job you could; teaching band and orchestra at an elementary school in a town you had never heard of. It was a small school, around 300 students; maybe not entirely in the middle of nowhere, but still a far cry from the city.

You had been given two keys; one for your classroom, and one for the instrument closet. You opened up the closet, only to see the small amount of instruments at the very back of the closet. The first thing you saw on the shelves was bins of magical components, alongside sets of textbooks with glossy spines; despite the dust in the room, they looked fairly new. You skimmed the titles.

Everyday Magic: PreK-2nd

Everyday Magic: 3rd-5th

4th Grade Mathematics

Life Science: Level 4

You looked out in the hallway; your room was sequestered at the back of the school, only two other classrooms close by. One was another music room, dark and locked away, likely unused for years. The other was a lively 4th grade classroom; perhaps these books belonged to that teacher. You didn’t want to make enemies your first day, but…surely, you’d need the space.

You found the roster of students taped to the wall. You had six students. Not six violins, or six trumpets, or six clarinets, but six students overall. Two violins, a clarinet, a trumpet, a trombone, and a flute. Finding music for an ensemble like this would be an impossible task. You moved towards the stored away instruments. Every single instrument had a name tag and an ID number on it, meaning it belonged to the school. It wasn’t that only six kids had signed up; the school only had six instruments. If you could get permission to order a few more, and get whoever stored their shit here to move it, maybe you could get a few more students.

You heard a door open, followed by the sound of a child trying to stifle tears. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.”

“I know, I know,” said a man in a gentle tone; that had to be the fourth grade teacher storing his stuff in your closet. “But it’s alright. Are you hurt?”

“No…”

“Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, but…I looked stupid.”

You were nosy; you poked your head out the closet door, seeing a tall, Elvish man leaning against the wall.

“No, you did not. I promise you no one thinks that. As you said, you were trying to help. You’re still learning, but spells like that are hard. Although…did it work?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then that’s something we should celebrate! Healing spells like that most mages don’t learn until middle school. We’ll sweep up the dandelion petals, and that’ll be that. Alright?”

The boy nodded, “okay.”

“Good. Now head back inside, and we’ll talk more about that when we meet on Wednesday.” The boy walked back inside, and as the man went to follow him, he turned around. You weren’t fast enough, locking eyes with him.

He looked you up and down, his eyes narrowed. “…who are you?”

You realized you had left your badge on your desk. “Oh, sorry, I’m the new band teacher.”

His demeanor shifted once you introduced yourself. “Oh! That’s great, no one thought they’d be able to fill that position. Two of my students were in band, and they were devastated when the last teacher quit.”

You skimmed the name on the bottom of his badge;

Eldrin Fairwind

“I’m glad I’m here then,” you smiled. “What did they play?”

“Eliseph played violin, and Alex, the student I was just talking to, played clarinet.”

“Is…everything alright with him?”

“He’ll be okay. Very talented mage, just…a bit unpolished with his magic, as all young mages are, I’m sure you know how it is.”

You didn’t, but you nodded along anyway. You looked at him a little closer; glasses that perfectly framed his face, a soft smile, and kind eyes, you could listen to him talk all day long.

Wait. Was this the guy using your closet?”

“Could I ask you something?”

“Of course. I’m sure it’s quite intimidating, a new school halfway through the year, I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, I…the instrument closet, I need the space there. Are the bins and books in there yours?”

His eyes widened, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry, I’m in charge of the Young Mages Program here, and I’m a little short on space in my own classroom.”

‘So am I,’ you thought.

“I get it. I just wanted to see if I could get permission to purchase a few more instruments, and they’d need a place to go, so…”

“Oh, that’d be great! The old teacher didn’t seem particularly interested in growing the program, so I doubt you’ll have issues with that.”

“She didn’t want to grow the program? Why?”

“Well-” he was interrupted by a girl walking towards him. She said something to him in Elvish, but he responded in common. “It’s on the board. We’ll sound it out.” He turned back to face you, “I need to go, but I’ll tell you after school if you’re still here.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you get back to it. It was nice meeting you.”

He smiled, “likewise.”

————

You spent the rest of the day getting your room set up and cleaning what you could in the supply closet, kicking up dust with every movement. Despite having the whole day, you were still cleaning and cataloguing supplies in the closet by the time 3:00 arrived. After the rush of dismissal was over and quiet returned to the hallway, you heard the door across the hall open.

“So,” he started walking towards the closet, “how was the rest of your first day?”

“Dusty,” you joked, patting the dust off your pants. “But other than that, I think we should be good to start tomorrow.”

He looked around, “impressive. Getting a classroom set up and cleaning a closet all in one day is quite the feat.”

You smiled, “thanks. So, what’s the deal with the teacher before me?”

“Well, she was quite old, for one. Even when she started, she was already 700 years old. I heard she requested all sorts of instruments, and that’s what she got.”

“Just six instruments?”

He nodded, “arts budgets in places like this are quite small, usually. This was the first time we ever had a band teacher, so the principal didn’t question it. She kept asking, but kept getting denied. I think after the first few years, she just…gave up, and made do with what she had. We’ve had plenty of new principles within that time, but,” he shrugged. “She had given up at that point.”

“How long was she here for?”

“A hundred years or so. Something like that.”

You nodded, “what about you? How long have you been here?”

“This year will be fifty, I believe.”

Your eyes widened, “that’s…a lot. How long have you been teaching?”

He paused, looking to the side. “A hundred and fifty years, I think? Honestly…I don’t remember. What about you?”

You let out a nervous laugh, “this is my first year, actually.”

“Oh. Well, there’s certainly worse places to endure your first year of teaching,” he laughed. “You’ll be alright. You seem excited to be here, and that’s already an improvement from the last person here.”

You weren’t excited about the job. But you were excited to talk to him. “I’m glad. I’ll do the best I can.”

“Well, if you ever need help, I’m right across the hall,” he smiled. “Did you just move here too?”

You nodded, “just a few days ago, yeah. It’s quite different from the city, but…I like it. So far, at least.”

“Wait until it snows. Then you might change your mind,” he joked. “But if you don’t have anything planned after school on Friday, I could show you around. I like to think I know my way around after fifty years,” he smiled.

Your face flushed; was he asking you out on a date, or was he just being friendly? “I’d like that,” you said before you could think anymore about it.

His face lit up, “I look forward to it. I’ll-” he cut himself off, looking back at the bins on the shelves. “I’ll move my things now.”

“Actually-”

Were you seriously going to put up with him keeping his things in your supply closet? Just for the chance of seeing him between classes more often?

“It’s alright. I might need you to move some things if I can get more instruments, but…it’s alright for now.”

Yes. Yes you were.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

————

You couldn’t help but be a bit nervous. Other 4th and 5th grade teachers had stopped by, telling you how excited they were for band to get started again. From the sound of it, even if there were only six students, they were six dedicated students. After all, in a town like this, there wasn’t much to do.

You learned even more from Eldrin the next day. “It’s not that there isn’t interest,” he shrugged as you spoke in the hallway. “It’s that there just weren’t enough resources. The way they decided who got to do band was based on academic performance.”

You raised an eyebrow; you knew plenty of people that struggled in school but were great musicians. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

He sighed, “it’s not. But…it is what it is, I suppose.” He looked towards you with a hopeful smile, “perhaps you’ll be able to change that.”

Each day was different than the last. Admittedly, with such a small program, there wasn’t much for you to do outside of teaching the six students. Still, you were required to be there the whole day With how much time you had, it made sense to meet with them individually, seeing two of them on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday. When you weren’t teaching, you kept looking through the supply closet. While you had catalogued all of the supplies, there were still several file cabinets you hadn’t touched. So, you started going through those, making a database of all the music the school had, and what it was for. You managed to keep yourself busy, the week passing quickly.

Yet despite all the time on your hands, you still weren’t sure if your outing with Eldrin was a date or not. Maybe he was just being nice, maybe he was interested in you. Although, if it was the latter, that wouldn’t be wise, would it? You had already hit rock bottom losing the job of your dreams; you didn’t need to add insult to injury by fraternizing with a co-worker you had only known for a week.

When you checked your mailbox after lunch, you found a sealed, unaddressed envelope. You opened it up, a message written on a folded up piece of notepad paper.

I’ll pick you up at 5:00. Let me know where.

-Eldrin

You realized you didn’t even have his phone number. Once the school day started, it was hard to find time to speak to him. You could wait until after school, but you wanted to make sure you had enough time to get ready. After all, if it was a date, you didn’t want to still be in your teacher clothes.

That’s when you got an idea.

You grabbed one of the mailing envelopes from the copy room, and wrote a message of your own. You wrote down your address on a piece of printer paper, and contemplated writing something else. A heart? A flirtatious message? You kept it simple, writing only ‘looking forward to it :)’

You sealed the envelope, and waited for your second student of the day. Despite it being her first lesson, Kiri had made a point to find you in your classroom before school and introduce herself.

“My mom works here, so if you ever need help, I can help you! I know how to use the copier. I can even put staples in it,” she had said. She was always enthusiastic about running errands for teachers, and you hoped this would be no different.

As she packed up her violin, you stood up and walked back to your desk. “Could you do a favor for me?”

She smiled wide, “yeah!”

You handed her the sealed envelope. “Could you give this to Mr. Fairwind for me?”

She took the envelope, giving you a little salute. “Yep!”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Hopefully that worked.

————

It must have, because he was at your door right at 5:00. You had changed into an outfit that made you look good, but wasn’t too revealing. Even if you wanted to wear something a bit showy, it was far too cold for that.

Although, you had worn a cute set of underwear. Just in case.

It was a bit strange seeing him in a more laid back ensemble, but you figured he might’ve been thinking the same thing of you.

A drive around such a small town might’ve been boring for some, but he managed to make it interesting, regaling you with all sorts of stories about the town. You quickly learned where to go, but more importantly, where not to go.

“Admittedly, there’s not too much to see,” he laughed, starting to take you home. “But…it’s enough. With the chaos everyday brings, boredom is a breath of fresh air.”

“I get that.” You looked back out the window, the stars clear and bright in the night sky. “I haven’t seen stars like this in awhile. It was always too bright in the city.”

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Sometimes you don’t realize what you were missing until you see it.”

“It is…” you trailed off, looking back at him. You noticed he was looking over at you, stealing brief glances whenever he could. You wanted to ask him to take you home, or to come back to your place, but you still weren’t sure if that’s what he was after. He’d been friendly, he’d been sweet, but…he wasn’t that flirtatious. No placing his hand on your knee, no risqué remarks, just camaraderie. Perhaps that was a good thing, but it didn’t fill you with confidence. “Where do you live, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“About half an hour away, why do you ask?”

You bit your lip. It was a risky move; this was someone you worked with. You had known him for a week. Yet his politeness made you want him more.

“I was just curious. Why is that?”

“This is a small town. People talk. I don’t think I do anything that scandalous in my free time, but…” he grinned, “I like not having to worry about it.”

“So you occasionally do things that are scandalous?” You joked.

“Occasionally. No more than the average person, I’d like to think. I might occasionally drink after work.”

“The horror,” you said sarcastically.

“They’ve fired teachers for it before. I don’t think they’d do that here, but I’d rather not take the risk. Besides, it’s nice to not have to worry about running into someone wherever I go.”

“That’s true. I’m sure people would have something to say if they saw you at my door,” you giggled.

“I’m sure they would. If anyone did see me, we’ll hear about it soon enough.”

You saw an opportunity and took it. “Maybe it’s better for the both of us if we went back to your place.”

You heard a quiet laugh under his breath. “Maybe you’re right. I think you spending the night with me would certainly minimize risk.”

“That seems like a good idea. Wouldn’t want anyone to see me walking inside in the middle of the night,” you watched as he drove out of town, the road empty and quiet.

“Oh no, we definitely can’t have that. We wouldn’t want people to think you were doing something obscene.”

“I’d never,” you decided to be bold, setting your hand on his leg. You looked back at him, unsure if it was alright to go further.

He smirked, “oh, I’m sure you’d never.”

You moved your hand further, feeling the outline of his hard cock. You moved your hand back and forth, teasing him as you listened to his breaths start to slow. You leaned over for a moment, undoing his pants and taking his cock out as he continued to drive. You started to stroke his cock slowly; it was hard to see with how dark it was outside, but touching him quickly showed you he was fairly well-endowed.

You started to move faster, listening to him quietly moan from your touch. You slipped out from under your seatbelt, leaning over and resting your head on his lap, his cock resting on your face. You started to lick his cock, starting from the bottom and working your way up until you tasted his precum. You spent some time just licking the tip, sucking on it as you listened to his moans get a bit louder. He took one hand off the wheel for a moment just to pet your hair, before you started to lower your mouth down onto his cock. You took your time, getting it wet before you started to move faster.

You took his whole cock in your mouth, moving your head up and down as you sucked him off. All you could hear was the hum of the road, his soft moans, and the sound of your spit coating his cock.

His breaths started to quicken, and you soon realized the car wasn’t moving. You had arrived, but you were determined to make him cum before he even brought you inside. He parked the car, and rested both hands on your head, savoring the feeling of your throat and tongue. “You’re so good at this,” he moaned, feeling himself getting close. “You-You don’t have to-”

He was cut off by another moan as you made an effort to deepthroat him, fucking your throat with his cock. His breaths got quicker, and he gripped your hair just a little tighter; not enough to hurt, but enough for you to notice.

He couldn’t help himself. He came down your throat, tasting him on your tongue. Every time you were about to stop, you tasted his seed yet again. When he finally finished, you pulled yourself off, licking one last bead of cum on the tip of his cock. “I’d never do anything so obscene,” you smiled, looking up at him.

He was still catching his breath, mindlessly petting your hair as he looked down at you. “No, of course not.” He put his cock away, taking one last moment to come down from the high of his climax. “Well…shall we?”

————

You both walked inside his home, and he led you to the bedroom. You stood close to his bed as he gently held your face.

“May I kiss you?” The request felt so innocent after you blew him in his car.

You smiled, “please do.”

He pulled you in for a kiss, taking his time even though it was clear he wanted more. “No need to rush. We have all night, after all.” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you, or himself.

You both moved onto the bed, him continuing to kiss you as he hovered on top of you. You watched as he sat up, starting to undress. You started to pull your shirt off, but he stopped you.

“Let me.”

You weren’t going to tell him no. He pulled off your shirt, running his hands down your curves as and belly before pulling your pants off, admiring your body. He ran his hand over your wet, covered pussy. “It seems you had a plan.”

“I might’ve,” you teased.

“Well, I’d say you’ve been successful,” he started to pull your panties off, taking a moment to admire your pussy before unclipping your bra, freeing your breasts. He grabbed both of them, gently groping and caressing them as you watched his cock start to harden once more. His hands wandered, touching your thighs as he spread your legs further. “Let me return the favor,” he said as he touched your bare pussy.

You nodded your head, eager to feel his tongue. He took his time, licking your cunt eagerly as he held your thighs. He started to suck on your clit, your moans only encouraging him further. He moved faster, his tongue moving in and out of your wet pussy. At one point, it sounded like he moaned; “you taste so good,” he mumbled, lapping up your juices with pleasure.

You couldn’t help but hold his hair, wanting more and more of him as you pushed his head down. “I-I’m gonna cum,” you cried out.

He devoured your pussy, gripping your thighs faster as he felt your body shake. “Fuck!” You cried out as you came all over his face.

He came up for air, looking back at you as he wiped your cum from his face. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” Quite the compliment from someone who was three centuries old.

“Thank you. I…I wanted you ever since I saw you, to be honest.”

He smiled, “likewise.” He moved between your legs as you held them in the air. He leaned down to kiss you once more before slowly pushing inside you. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as he started to move. He moved slowly, you could feel every inch moving in and out of you. He kissed your neck, looking back down at you. “Does that feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels so good!”

It was romantic, the way he took his time, but you wanted more. You locked your legs around him, forcing him deeper. He moved faster, groping your breast as he fucked you. He kissed you again, this time feeling his tongue against yours. He pushed your legs back further, getting even deeper inside you. You cried out in pleasure as he hit your g-spot, his balls slapping against your wet cunt.

He pulled out of you, not wanting to cum again so fast. He pulled your body next to his, and you moved your leg up for him to slide back inside. He held you by your side, leaning over to kiss you again as he fucked into you. He was struggling to hold back, enthralled with your face, your body, your pussy. The sight of your plump ass bouncing against him as he fucked into you was incredible, making him only want to move faster.

He had started off so romantic, and while that hadn’t faded, lust had started to take over. Soft kisses turned to biting at your neck. Gentle strokes turned into pounding into your pussy. Careful touches turned into a tight grip. Still, you loved it. Watching someone so gentle and sweet devolve, fucking you like crazy and becoming hypnotized by your tight cunt; that was almost just as hot as the sex itself.

You could feel yourself getting tight again, feeling yourself getting close. As you gripped his cock tighter, he couldn’t hold back. As you came, you milked his cock for all it had, another thick load shooting inside you, coating the wet walls of your pussy.

Both of you breathed heavily, looking back at each other as you tried to catch your breath. He held you close to him, his limp cock still inside you as he kissed your neck again.

Maybe it wasn’t the wisest option, sleeping with a co-worker you had only known for a week. Yet as you laid in his arms, you didn’t feel a single ounce of regret.

I love him so much

I’m still kinda burnt out on his other story but I’ve had this idea for awhile so. Fuck it we ball. Will prob continue this one but I just. Aaaaa. He’s so. Hhhh. I also think we just need more teacher x teacher stories in general.

Also if you read my other stories, yes, it’s the same Alex. I was writing out his backstory for another project, and he was also mentioned growing up in a small town in the middle of nowhere so. Why not. Obviously this is like, 12 years before tali’s story so yea. L o r e. Also, there was a line that got cut in his last chapter about how he played clarinet in high school. Yippee my universe grows. He’s not gonna be like a main focus here though, I just thought it’d be fun. He might punch a kid idk

Made reader a band director tho just because. That’s all I taught when I was in K-12 LOL. I write what I know, and I will probably end up giving my critiques on the American public school system throughout this. Whoops.

Anyway. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Header by @/strangergraphics

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I’m so sorry I keep bringing this up but I’m the same anon who was asking about Silver’s baton, I just went through your tags and found you covered that already, my apologies!! 🙏🏻

But may I ask of you something else? I’ve heard that Silver had another emotional breakdown in one of the more recent Book 7 updates, and I was wondering if you could give me some spoilers on that? Something about it happening before Silver scolds Sebek for his behavior during Ace’s dream, I think it happened during Heartslabyul, or in the Savanaclaw dreams at the latest? I’ve been trying to find a specific post that covers it, and I just can’t find it.

Also I was wondering if you had any gifs I could download of Silver with the “Perfect!” 3 stars doing his little fist pump thing during history lessons?

Sorry about all that, 😓 thank you very much tho!

Hello!! I apologize for not getting the response to your ask(s) out sooner; it was queued to go up a while from now (my queue's like 80 posts long 💦) and had a link to that older post in which I discussed Silver's use of his baton. I'm glad you were able to find what you were looking for on your own though! I'm not sure what you mean by Silver having “another emotional breakdown"? The only other instance I can recall of Silver really losing control of his emotions (outside of him discovering the truth of his heritage) is when he scolds Sebek. This occurs in Ace's dream; the first years approach Ace and try to tell him the truth about what's going on. However, Ace is in denial and thus doesn't wake. That's when Sebek steps up and starts chewing him out. Ace claims that none of this is his problem, it's what Malleus chose for himself so he should accept the consequences of his own actions, etc. He also gets mad at Sebek for talking down to him and acting as if he's so much better than everyone else; Ace refuses to work with Sebek and storms off. When the first years regroup with the older students, Silver becomes very stern with Sebek and scolds him, saying that his rudeness (towards Ace) has inconvenienced everyone. More specifically, I believe Silver say something to the effect of the people around Sebek (his family, those in Diasomnia, etc.) are too lenient with him, so he has become spoiled and doesn't know how to act properly with peers; Sebek needs to reflect on his actions! This makes Sebek go very quiet and (begrudgingly) apologize to everyone. It's a rare moment of Silver losing his chill and patience with Sebek. I don't think he was breaking down though, so this may not be what you meant; it read to me more as "I'm not mad, I'm disappointed" and Silver being sort of an older brother figure telling Sebek off for his behavior.

I definitely don't remember anything similar to that bappening in the Savanaclaw or Heartslabyul dreams--or any of the dreams, for that matter. Maybe you misheard or misremembered Silver having "another emotional breakdown"?? Or maybe I’m forgetting, lmao 😂 It’s been a long time since the dream hopping started and I don’t care to go back and reread all of those to confirm this—

I unfortunately don't really keep Silver gifs so I'm afraid I can't help you with that. I'm sure if you keep looking, you'll find it eventually!

[idontknowreallywhy]

Estera Ch 37 - Warmup

Oh hi! We’re back 🤪

Story so far

Previous chapter - 36 - Lost

(and if you’re new to this, might be worth starting from a couple earlier to figure out what on earth is going on 34 - Anniversary 35 - Ten)

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The mid-May sun radiated its cheerful warmth at the trio as they contained their journey towards the shore. Estera was oblivious, noticing only the bite of salt in the light breeze that could make your eyes water if you weren’t careful.

She led them away from the main road and its friendly ice cream coloured houses and took a winding route through a series of more generic residential streets. Less direct but space to breathe. Space to run… she’d have suggested it by now but Scott was moving unusually slowly, seemingly lost in thought and it seemed best not to interrupt for the moment.

How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?

She’d intended a fun, stress free day - a lighthearted day to distract the both of them from darker memories and yet in the short time since he’d arrived she’d somehow led him from one disaster to another.

The prickle of cold sweat at her hairline intensified as her mind replayed the image of him leaning back so heavily over the bannister and focussed in on the magnitude of the drop behind him should it have broken or he’d overbalanced… it sent another little shockwave of horror roiling through her gut. Did she even get that right? In the moment she’d felt she’d known exactly what he needed… but… what if? What if she shouldn’t have left him. No, she shouldn’t have. Even for a second. What if? Should she have grabbed him? Pulled him away from there? No… no, shocking him would probably have made it worse. He was far stronger than she was.

She’d been foolish to let Bez go ahead though. Foolish to think that after one brief meeting she’d magically fixed that issue for him. She knew full well that wasn’t how it went and should have been far more careful.

It had taken several long moments for him to recognise her. His pupils so dilated his eyes were more black holes than blue pools. Not like the very first moment she’d looked into them, when the blue burned so brightly, more like the second when his face was strained with terror and he’d screamed at her to…

No. She had to stop this train of thought before it made her even more useless to him than she’d been already.

At least she’d got him out of range before the little voice of her pupil piped a cheery “byeee Mr Scott”. Hopefully it was unlikely they’d run after him even if the connection was belatedly made, but it was another reason to steer clear of the main road.

She hadn’t known what the younger sister’s name was. Would never have guessed his mother was one of those fans. Though the knowledge did throw a couple of the stranger remarks little Jeff had come out with into a new light.

Scott didn’t seem to be struggling with a flashback or anything now, thankfully, just walking quietly, a slight frown on his face, his gazed fixed a little above the rooftops. The only clue he was even aware of her presence was the way her elbow, looped through his own was clamped lightly but firmly to his side. Bez trotted at his other side, glancing up at his new two-legged friend almost as often as his mistress was.

“I’m so sorry, Scott.”

He seemed to shake himself. “Don’t be silly, not your fault.”

“I didn’t know…”

“Even if you had, Estera, we couldn’t have done anything different. Tracy needed help, so we helped. And it’s ok! Really. It is.”

He looked down at her and… well she wanted to believe him but… a little groan escaped her and she found herself gripping his arm slightly tighter. He patted her hand.

“It was just a little… strange! I’m glad she didn’t realise that I… well. It would have been a shame to disappoint her, you know?”

“I hardly think you’d prove a disappointment.”

Yes, there it was - the slight twitch of his jaw that somehow she knew was coming as soon as the words left her mouth. Estera felt rather the same way she did when she saw one of the children berated by a stressed-out parent for breaking or losing something again…

“I meant she’d want to know if she was right about… about Dad, wouldn’t she? I mean it’s kinda amusing to imagine him going all vigilante… but if he is… well he’s taking his sweet time about bringing the World Government down and getting home.”

“Mmm… maybe they are more robust than people think.”

He snorted derisively. Interesting, maybe she’d probe that one some other time.

“Well if he does manage it and then makes a grand reappearance, I’ll give him a hug first, then congratulate him…” the corner of his mouth quirked and his eyes glinted a little “… and then I’d kick his ass for leaving me with all the paperwork.”

She burst out laughing, partly out of surprise, partly relief. He grinned and gave her arm a squeeze. They followed a path through the last row of houses and emerged into an open field, to be greeted at last by the vast sweep of the sea in front of them. Scott took a deep breath:

“Thanks for the rescue though, you think you’ve heard them all, think you’ve got all the lines ready but…” he waved a hand in lieu of finishing the sentence.

“She was really quite keen wasn’t she? I mean do you think her husband deliberately…” Estera caught herself just in time. The distinct downside of how easy Scott was to talk to was that she sometimes really REALLY needed to stop talking.

“Deliberately what?”

“Nothing. Inappropriate thought.”

He smirked “Well now I really want to know!”

“No! Not…” Estera blushed and whacked him on the arm “… not like that!”

“Then…?”

Their pace had increased without her realising and she was needing to take three steps for every two of his. She huffed, realising that if she held out he’d be assuming even worse. “I just meant… well…” she dropped her voice in case anyone was listening out of a window “did you notice the husband’s hair? Just like… your Dad always wore his in the old documentaries.”

He looked at her for a moment before letting out a single explosive “Ha!” and shaking his head.

“The sweep and flick! I’d forgotten that. He used to say it was the most dashing style you could maintain in a space suit… kind of controlled helmet hair I guess. He wore it a lot simpler, more formal once Mom… once he started all the TI stuff, you know?”

She rather thought she did know but before she could think of how to respond he continued:

“I reckon it must be deliberate, he seemed like a smart man and whatever works… Anyway, before I think any more about people finding my dad sexy…” he pulled a revolted face “How did it go?”

“What?”

“The lunch! How did it go?”

Scott Tracy could change topic as fast as his beloved rocket could U-turn. Estera felt slightly as though she had whiplash but hastily endeavoured to catch up. She’d spent most of the previous day looking forward to sharing the details with him but given everything so far this morning they had all slithered out of her mind.

“Oh! Of course. Ok, I think?”

“Only think?”

“Well, if I don’t think about any of the awkward things I said or the names I immediately forgot after Lady Penelope introduced people… I’m usually good with names but apparently as soon as you add titles as well it seems I get scrambled. I mean I didn’t even know there WAS an Earl of Devonshire? He was alright, if a little old fashioned but some of them were so strange and rude. Others were pleasant though. I hope I didn’t show Penelope up too badly, she was very kind to invite me. And I enjoyed it! I did. Except the more I think about it in retrospect then more I am sure they all knew I didn’t belong there… and… ah, I probably got carried away going on and on when I should have just smiled and nodded, you know?”

She tailed off and cleared her throat, embarrassed at the sudden flood of badly ordered thoughts. She tried to summarise but it came out like a generic answer to an interview question:

“It was a good learning experience.”

Scott was smiling in an irritatingly knowing fashion as he slipped his arm out of hers and started fiddling with his wrist comm. Bez, apparently content that he was no longer required to prop anyone up, bounded away in hot pursuit of something small and fluffy.

“What are you looking so smug about?”

“I had a message from Penny last night.”

The sun was suddenly far too hot. “Oh. Oh no. What did I do? I upset people by ranting about controversial things didn’t I? Ah. Aaaah I knew it! I really SHOULD have smiled and nodded and just been normal I’ve always been awful at that. I just… I sometimes forget to slow down and how I’m supposed to act! I’m so sorry Scott, I messed it up! Don’t look like that! It’s not funny!”

“Shall I read it to you?”

“I don’t know that you should.”

“I do.” He cleared his throat importantly and tapped his comm before reading aloud as they walked.

“Scott darling I’m afraid you will have to spend less time with your new friend…”

Estera suddenly felt incredibly nauseous and slowed her pace. She couldn’t work out why he found this so amusing. She knew he valued Lady Penelope’s opinion and, well, in honesty Estera had begun to do so too. It was disappointing to think she had managed to lose favour so quickly.

Scott paused and waited for her to catch up. “There’s more!”

“You will have to spend less time with your new friend because I would very much like to claim a little more of hers myself. Lady Smythe-Gibbons was entirely charmed by the manner in which she set Sir Fancypants in his place on the new immigration bill. As you know, the two of them have never seen eye to eye and once she saw how put out he was about it I believe I can now count on the good Lady as an ally in that particular campaign. I do hope Estera enjoyed herself and wasn’t too put out by my commandeering her Saturday afternoon.”

“Oh.” Estera took a moment to process. “I’m fairly sure it wasn’t Smythe-Gibbons…”

“I may have taken poetic licence with some of the names she mentions here.”

“I really should remember the names…”

“You’re missing the point a little here, E. You did good! Y’are officially PCW-approved!”

Ordinarily she’d have been delighted to point out how his accent slipped when he was excited, but the satisfaction of it was tainted by the thought that this seemed to have been some kind of test and she’d only passed it on a fluke.

“Well it’s a relief but it’s also entirely by chance! I could have as easily upset the wrong dignitary and ruined all Lady Penelope’s plans.”

Scott shook his head vigorously.

“Naw, I’ve found that one of Penny’s greatest tricks is unleashing the right person on the right person at the right time.”

“How do you mean?”

“If you upset Lord Fluffington-McDoodieface it’s because she intended you to do so. She wouldn’t have let you loose anywhere you could have done any real damage. Well, any damage she doesn’t want to occur anyway.”

Once again Estera found herself not knowing quite how to feel about Lady Penelope.

“But… what if I’d…”

“The best thing is to go with it and enjoy the ride. At least you got an interesting political debate and a decent lunch. Usually I just end up distracting some oblivious executive’s wife with mindless chitchat while she extracts information from the husband and I starve to death on tiny food.”

“Don’t you feel a bit… used?”

“Nah. She does so much for us and for International Rescue. If my buying a drink for a pretty girl or… well… if I’m being entirely honest it’s more usually a septuagenerian millionaire with a terrifying glint in her eye…” Scott clutched a fist to his chest, all virtuous melodrama. “If that helps her uncover a nefarious plot or raise a ton of cash for charity, I’ll do it. Occasionally.” He chuckled and then added with a grin “When I can’t find an excuse to be elsewhere.”

“A terrifying glint, huh?” Estera couldn’t quite hide the smirk.

Scott turned to her with wide, mock horrified eyes.

“So terrifying. Honestly. Occasionally if they are standing between me and the door, leaping out the window seems the safest option. But I stand my ground for the greater good.”

“You are sooo brave.”

“I really am.”

She shoved him lightly into the hedge.

“Tell me though, which is the more terrifying - the predatory pensioners or the tiny food?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

“Well luckily my plans for later involve very decent portion sizes. But first, you have to earn it.”

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[phantangled]

mr amazing back at it with his ✨iconic✨ annotations

(+ i’m glad he’s doing okay 🥹)

[wcnderlnds]

body language | kang dae-ho

・���・ summary: the ex marine caught your attention from the moment you met him ・❥・word count: 1k ・❥・warnings: 18+. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. female reader. swearing. ・❥・ authors note: precious little dae-ho needs some love so here we are. this isn't my best work but we all know im still newish to smut 😭

Dae-ho had been the first person you had met when you entered the games. He had an energy about him that was infectious, he seemed like someone you could depend on so from the second he had opened his cute little mouth, you had decided to stay with him. A strong, loyal man was exactly what you needed to survive these games. It helped that he was incredibly charming and nice to look at. So, it was really no surprise that you found yourself pressed up against the cool of the wall behind the bunks with his lips pressed against yours moving with a ferocity of two people whose lives were on the line.

After the second game emotions had been high. The team had barely survived with only seconds to spare. Hearts had been pounding and in the heat of the moment, you had thrown your arms around Dae-ho in the biggest hug imaginable. His big, strong arms had instantly wrapped around yours whispering into your ear how glad he was that the both of you had made it, how thankful he was that he had met you. The sexual tension between the two of you after that moment could be cut with a knife. The longing glances through dinner, the brushing of hands during the vote – it had all led to his body pressing against yours in the dead of night.

At first, you’d approached him wanting to talk but finally, with no other eyes on you, the tension had hit breaking point. His body had you against the wall before you could even blink, his hands on either side of your head as his lips devoured yours. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him impossibly close. It was like you needed him to breath. The only thing you cared about was this former Marine having his hands all over you.

“What if someone catches us?” He whispered against your lips. Ever the cautious one.

“They won’t. Everyone’s too busy worrying about the next game and I’m sure we’re not the only ones having a little moment to ourselves,” your voice was a seductive whisper as your hand slid down between his legs. The outline of his cock prominent against the restraints of his sweatpants. You palmed him through his clothes, gently rubbing against his hardening length. He bit his lower lip, holding back the groan threatening to escape. His hand moved to grab yours, guiding you into his sweatpants. He wanted more. He needed more. 

Sliding his hand into his underwear, you grasped his cock giving it a soft squeeze. The small whimper coming from Dae-ho was like music to your ears as you slowly began stroking up and down his thick length. You hadn’t even laid eyes on it yet but you couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. He was thick, the thought alone of him stretching you out was enough to make your thighs clench. Your hand continued to move along him, picking up speed. Dae-ho was biting his lip so much you were sure he was about to draw blood. 

Suddenly, his fingers wrapped around your wrist putting your movements to a halt. His breath came heavy as you spoke. “If you don’t stop, I’ll finish before we even get to the good part.”

There wasn't even a chance to reply as he spun you around, your hands pressed against the wall, his cock brushing against your ass. His calloused fingers dove into the front of your sweatpants feeling how wet you already were. Just to be sure you were ready, he dove into your panties, his fingers easily sliding through your folds; your slickness coating his digits.  In a flash he pulled your sweatpants and panties down in one fell swoop, freeing his own cock. He grinded against you, the feeling of his hardness sliding against you making you gasp.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked, cock in his hand as he positioned himself.

“Yes, please just fuck me, Dae-ho,” you whimpered, pushing back against him feeling the head of his cock press into you. With his hands on your hips, he slowly pushed himself inside you until his pelvis was fully pressed against your ass – his cock deep inside your pussy.

His thrusts were slow, the drag of his length making you moan quietly. Who cares if there were people around? Who cares if someone caught you? In that moment, all you cared about was getting fucked enough to forget about the horrors going on around you. His fingers gripped your hips softly, his hips pulling almost all the way out then slamming back into you. Your head fell as he continued, your body jerking forward with every thrust. 

He leaned over, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “You like that? Like the way that feels, huh?”

“Yes, oh fuck, yes. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

Your pleading moans only spurred him on, giving him the courage and consent he needed to kick things up a notch. His calloused fingers slid up under your shirt, squeezing your breasts as he picked up his pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard but, luckily, the players' snores covered it up. The grunts coming from him signalled his impending release. That all too familiar feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach. “I’m gonna…. fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He slammed into you one, two, three more times before his release flooded your insides, filling you up. The feeling of him grinding against you, pushing his seed into you trigged your own release. Your walls clamped down around him as you moaned his name, biting into your own forearm to muffle the sound. Your body shook, breath coming out in short bursts. Dae-ho pulled out of you, making sure to clean you up with some tissue he’d taken from the bathrooms earlier. He threw it under the bed, helping you pull your own clothes back on.

Spinning you around, he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb lightly stroking over your cheek. “Are you okay? I didn’t go too hard, did I?”

“No,” you shook your head with a smile. “You were perfect. I like you, Dae-Ho so… stay alive, please. I want to be able to do this again properly.”

He pressed a light kiss to your nose, a silly little smirk on his face. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

[spencerreidenjoyer]

lovebird | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's little girl sets you and her dad up.

wc: 3.3k, rating: teen

tags/warnings: 2+1, kindergarten teacher!reader, single girldad!spencer, fluff, meet-cute, implied sex, use of "Y/N" because this fic would've been impossible to write without it oops

a/n: not sure what possessed me to write this, but i finished writing this in about 2 days lmao. girldad!spencer loml. thank you to my lovely friends over on twitter who fuelled my insanity. for this fic i have season 10 spencer in mind/later seasons spencer who's just full on daddy at that point <3 (also crossposted on ao3!)

Sunday

You’re at the grocery store in a ratty t-shirt and sweats, picking out fucking cereal when you hear the pitter-patter of footsteps running towards you, and a sweet, high-pitched voice calling your name. 

It’s one of your students, Ellie Reid, holding a box of cereal that’s half her height, and she comes up to you in the aisle. 

“Ellie? What are you doing here?” You ask sweetly, pushing your hair out of your face before you squat down to meet Ellie’s height. 

“My daddy wanted to get groceries. He said we would go together. But he had to pick up the phone, and I wanted to help look for the things Daddy needs.”

Her dad, Dr. Spencer Reid, is an FBI agent and a single dad to Ellie. He’s one of the best parents you’ve had this year – the fancy kindergarten you teach at lends itself to spoiled brats and uptight parents, but Dr. Reid and Ellie are a welcome reprieve in a usually stuffy environment. You’re pleased to see her here, on a weekend, but less pleased with the fact that she’s alone. 

“Oh, wow! You’re so helpful, Ellie,” you say, holding her arm gently. “I’m sure your dad is really thankful. But you shouldn’t have walked off alone. I’m glad you found me.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’s not safe for you to walk around alone in the grocery store, Ellie,” you smile. “Let’s go find your dad.”

Ellie nods, her cheeks ruddy and when you hold out your hand for her to hold, Ellie’s little hand wraps around two of your fingers. “Did you come to the grocery store alone? It’s not safe.”

“I did come alone. But I’m an adult, so it’s okay. You’re little, Ellie, so you should only walk around with your dad.” You lead Ellie down aisle after aisle, walking past canned food and bags of chips and walls lined with bottles of drinks. 

“But you shouldn’t walk around alone if it’s dangerous. When we find my daddy maybe he can protect you too!” Ellie says confidently. 

When did this grocery store feel so big? You can’t find Dr. Reid anywhere, and you feel a rising panic in your chest. You have half a mind to pull up the school’s contact information in your phone, but you hear Dr. Reid’s voice calling his daughter’s name, and both you and Ellie turn around.

“Daddy!” Ellie shrieks, almost dropping the box of cereal in her arms as she dashes toward her father. She almost trips as she closes the distance, thankfully landing in her father’s arms before she does fall. 

Dr. Reid scoops her up, holding her tightly. “You had me worried, sweetheart.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Ellie mumbles against her father’s shoulder. “But I found Miss Y/N and she helped me find you!”

“I told her not to run off alone in the future,” you say. “Right, Ellie?” 

The sweet girl nods. She giggles into Dr. Reid’s shoulder, and his hand comes up to pat her back, a soothing gesture.

“I’m glad it was you she bumped into,” Dr. Reid says, sighing with relief. “I wouldn’t know I would do with myself if–”

“It’s okay, Dr. Reid,” you assure him. “It’s not a problem at all. You’re– You’re doing a great job with her.”

“Thank you for saying that. I– I’ll see you at the parent-teacher meeting next Friday, right?”

“Yeah, next Friday.” You smile at him. “Have a good day, Dr. Reid. Bye, Ellie!”

“Bye!” Ellie, sweet girl, waves excitedly, her gummy smile overtaking her face. Dr. Reid walks toward the checkout, holding Ellie with one hand and pushing his shopping cart with the other. 

You feel how warm your cheeks are when Dr. Reid and Ellie are finally out of sight, your hand clammy around the handle of your shopping basket. You slap your cheek lightly, willing yourself to pull yourself together.

The way your heart flutters whenever you see Dr. Reid is a cause for concern, and you wonder if you should see a doctor about it. 

Dr. Spencer Reid is a marvel. He’s admirable, juggling his job at the FBI with raising a little girl all on his own, and he’s both a great profiler and a great dad. He’s incredibly sweet with Ellie and incredibly kind to you, which you unfortunately don’t get a lot, especially with the kinds of parents you deal with. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome: his hair is slightly long, wavy and messy in a way that frames his face just right, not to mention the stubble that makes him look that much hotter.

Your little crush on Dr. Reid is certainly inappropriate, but over the parent-teacher meetings and interacting with him when he drops off and picks up his daughter from school, you can’t help yourself from falling for him. 

Tuesday

Ellie Reid is a smart girl, that you know, but you're blindsided by her genius one day at recess. You’re monitoring all the kids at the playground when Ellie comes up to you. She has a contorted look on her face but she says, “Miss Y/N, I fell.”

“You did? Are you feeling okay?” You ask, squatting down to match her height. You look at her knees – not a speck of dirt nor a red spot from falling down.

“My knee hurts. Can you call my daddy?”

“Does it hurt badly? I’ll take you to see the nurse if it does,” you say, not entirely understanding the situation. You’ve never met a four-year-old who wouldn’t be in tears over tripping and falling, even if the injury wasn’t severe. 

The look on Ellie’s face makes you think that she’s trying to match your expectations of what she should be feeling. “It doesn't hurt bad. I just want my daddy to come pick me up. Can you call him?”

You try not to furrow your brow at the strange request. You’re usually trusted to handle any little accidents and mishaps with the children, but at Ellie’s insistence of calling her father, you feel like you should. 

(It’s certainly not spurred on by seeing him at the grocery store last weekend.)

“Alright, Ellie. I’ll call your dad and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Y/N,” Ellie says, smiling at you. You get her to sit down on the bench next to you and your co-teacher to oversee the kids before fish your phone out from your pocket to dial Dr. Reid’s number. As you wait for the call to go through, Ellie looks at you with wide, expectant eyes. You smile at her.

On the third ring, Dr. Reid picks up. “Hello?” 

“Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Miss Y/N from Ellie’s school. I’m calling to inform you that Ellie fell on the playground during recess.”

“Oh, my. Is she alright?” You hear Dr. Reid’s voice grow concerned. Ellie looks up at you, and you look the little girl up and down one more time just to be sure.

“Yes, she is. I checked and she doesn’t have any scrapes or bruises. She says her knee hurts, but that she’s also fine. Usually, we don’t call parents over small mishaps like this, but Ellie insisted that I call you.”

“I see,” Dr. Reid hums, his tone indecipherable. “Can I talk to her?”

“Sure thing, Dr. Reid,” you say. You hold the phone out to Ellie as you put the call on speakerphone and tell her, “Your dad wants to speak to you, Ellie.”

Ellie is polite, but clearly excited as she yells, “Hi, Daddy!” 

“Woah! Hi, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, his serious tone while he was speaking to you gone, talking to his daughter with a delightful whimsy. “Miss Y/N told me you fell on the playground today. Does it hurt?”

“No,” Ellie answers, but she looks up quickly at you. “I mean, yes. Just a little. It doesn’t hurt too bad anymore.”

You hide your smile, and you think you can hear the smile in Dr. Reid’s voice as he says, “Okay, sweet girl, that’s good.”

“Can you come and pick me up right now, Daddy?” Ellie asks, a little whiny. It’s adorable, though. 

“Well, it’s only ten in the morning, honey,” Dr. Reid bargains. “And I know you have art class later, right? Don’t you want to stay around for that?”

“I do!” Ellie says eagerly. “Oh, I love art class!”

“I know you do, honey,” Dr. Reid assures. “So, do you feel okay enough to stick around in class until Daddy comes to pick you up at the end of the day?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Ellie nods, even though Dr. Reid can’t see her. “But you have to come pick me up!”

“I always do, Ellie,” Dr. Reid laughs, making Ellie laugh along too. “Okay, honey. Go on and play with your friends. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay! Bye, Daddy! I love you!”

“Bye! I love you too, Ellie!” Dr. Reid matches Ellie’s excitable energy, and Ellie giggles before she runs off to play again. His voice returns to a calm but engaged sort of energy. “Well, that was something.”

“She seems fine,” you say, switching the speakerphone off as you hold your phone back up to your ear. “I’m sorry to bother you in the middle of your work day, Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, please, it’s not a bother at all,” Dr. Reid laughs gently. “I love talking to Ellie. She might miss me or something, if she had to fake a fall so you would call me.”

“Perhaps,” you say, slightly surprised that Dr. Reid would be so quick to call out his daughter’s bluff. Some of the other parents would rip your throat out if you even insinuated their child was in the wrong. “I’ll still keep an eye out for her.”

“Thanks, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid insists. “Besides, it’s always a pleasure getting a call from you.”

You don’t remember if you thank him before he hangs up, because all you can think about is Dr. Reid saying he enjoys talking to you.

After putting your phone away, you press your hands to your warm cheeks in an effort to calm yourself and your beating heart down. 

Dr. Reid is one of the last parents to come by during pickup. It’s a somewhat regular occurrence, with Dr. Reid’s busy and hectic job. You are never bothered by spending extra time with Ellie, and you know Dr. Reid always tries his best to pick Ellie up as soon as he can. He usually makes regular pickup so you never get to exchange more than a few words with him, but days like today aren’t necessarily rare either. But considering your interaction on Sunday, you’re secretly pleased with how it’s worked out. 

Only you and Ellie are left in the classroom, you having told your co-teacher to clock out first. You’re pleasantly surprised when there’s a knock on the door frame, Dr. Reid standing there in a cardigan and a button-up shirt with his dress pants. “Ellie!”

His hair is somehow more fluffy and messy than you’d seen him at the grocery store, but it just makes him look even more soft and domestic. You try not to look at Dr. Reid with hearts in your eyes as Ellie shrieks and runs towards him, Dr. Reid picking her up easily and swinging her around before he holds her tight. “Hi, sweet girl.”

“Daddy!” Ellie giggles. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too, honey,” Dr. Reid coos, pressing a kiss to the top of Ellie’s head. Your insides melt, gooey at the tooth-rottingly sweet display in front of you. “Were you a good girl for Miss Y/N today?”

“Uh-huh!” Ellie nods, her gummy smile absolutely adorable. 

“She was a pleasure,” you add. “Hello, Dr. Reid.”

“Hello again.” Dr. Reid smiles. “It’s nice to see you. Are you doing well?”

“Yes, I am. Other than Ellie’s little incident, today was thankfully uneventful. Thank you for asking.”

Dr. Reid’s face scrunches up in an extremely endearing way, like it’s obvious that he’d want to know about… you. “Of course. I like to know you’re doing well. It’s great to hear.”

You feel like you don’t know what to say to that, perhaps a little too caught up in your little crush on him to come up with a coherent response. You laugh shyly, tucking your hair behind your ear. Dr. Reid has set Ellie down, and she wanders around the classroom, fidgeting with the pencils on the tables, but doesn’t stray too far from her dad. “Ellie seems to be fine from earlier, but you might want to check in with her again.”

“I will,” Dr. Reid says, nodding. “Oh! I almost forgot–”

You look on as Dr. Reid fumbles in his satchel, pulling a crumpled paper bag out. The paper bag looks bulky, oil stains seeped through on the sides and on the bottom. “Oh, it looks bad. It’s good, I promise– It’s a chocolate muffin from this really good bakery near my office. I just thought I’d get you one. Since you’re so helpful with Ellie. Especially today.”

Dr. Reid holds it out for you, and you scramble to step forward and take it. “Thank you, Dr. Reid, you- You didn’t have to. It’s my job to look after Ellie, after all. Not that it’s a burden, or just a job, I mean– Ellie’s great. She’s one of our brightest, but don’t tell any of the other parents that.”

Dr. Reid smiles so bright you feel like you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “I won’t, if I bump into any of them at the parent-teacher meeting.”

You bite your lip, smiling, shy at the attention Dr. Reid gives you. You think he’s flirting(?) with you, but you try to remain professional. You clear your throat. “Thank you, Dr. Reid.” 

“Thank you again, Miss Y/N. I mean it.” Dr. Reid asserts, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Tonight is pizza night, so Ellie and I should be making our way home right about now.”

“Pizza!” Ellie yells, giddy, causing both you and Dr. Reid to laugh. She zooms past you to stand next to her dad. 

“Thank you, Dr. Reid. I’ll see you proper on Friday,” you say, nodding your head slightly. “And I’ll see you, Ellie, tomorrow, yeah?”

“Bye, Miss Y/N!” Ellie waves frantically. Dr. Reid joins her in her waving, equally silly. 

“I look forward to seeing you then, Miss Y/N,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Bye.”

“Bye!” you reply, trying not to sound too eager, and then Dr. Reid ducks out of the classroom with Ellie in hand. You feel like you’re swooning so hard you might faint.

Friday

Parent-teacher meetings go smoothly, thankfully. There are parents who only bother to hear the praise you give their children, so ignorant to the criticisms of their children that you try not to make too obvious. After seeing nineteen sets of parents, Dr. Spencer Reid is your last of the day. You don’t want to say you’ve been waiting for this all day, but checking off the nineteen sets of parents before this has only made you more and more excited. 

Dr. Reid finally enters the classroom, two minutes early for his slot, but he’s alone. 

“Where’s Ellie? She’s totally allowed to sit in for these meetings too.”

“She’s at my boss’ place for a playdate with his son,” Dr. Reid says. “Actually, that sounds pretty weird, doesn’t it? My daughter, having a playdate with my boss’ son?”

“Not at all. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m glad your colleagues are so helpful with Ellie.”

“They really are,” Dr. Reid asserts, smiling. “Hotch– My boss, I mean– offered, knowing I had this meeting.”

“That’s really nice of him,” you nod. “So, about Ellie…”

“Please tell me you only have good things to say,” Dr. Reid jokes, and you try very hard not to swoon. 

“Essentially, yes,” you nod. “Ellie is such a bright girl, and she’s so sweet. She’s always helpful with her classmates and polite to everyone and the teachers too. Again, don’t tell this to the other parents, but Ellie’s set high standards for the rest of the class.”

“You’re telling me an awful lot that I shouldn’t be telling the other parents,” Dr. Reid grins. “You sure you aren’t playing favourites?”

“You certainly are my favourite,” you say before you can catch yourself, and Dr. Reid looks at you with wide eyes. You imagine you look equally shocked. “I’m sorry, Dr. Reid, I didn't mean to say that.”

Dr. Reid cocks his head, a little smile toying on his lips. “Miss Y/N, did I ever tell you what I do for the FBI?”

You have no idea how this relates to how unprofessional and inappropriate you are being. You shake your head anyway, too afraid to say anything anymore before you say something even more embarrassing. 

“I’m a profiler, Miss Y/N. I use psychology and study behaviour to catch serial killers,” Dr. Reid explains, using his hands to articulate his point. Your eyes dart down to the motion; but your gaze quickly flits back up to his face. “In general, I’m good at reading people.”

“Is that so?” You gulp. Is he able to read you?

“I don’t mean to profile you, Miss Y/N, I mean it,” Dr. Reid sounds a little apologetic. “But I can’t help but notice the way you lean toward me when we’re speaking, the way you fidget with your hands a little, the way you can almost meet my eyes, but you still seem a little bashful about it. I either intimidate you, or…”

“Or..?” 

“I’m sorry if this is too forward, but would you like to get dinner with me?”

“What?” You ask, disbelieving. “Dinner?”

“You- You’re interested in me too, aren’t you?”

“Too?” You gape, sounding like a parrot as you repeat his words, simply unable to wrap your head around the fact that Ellie Reid’s young, hot, genius father just asked you on a date. 

“I’m usually not too doubtful of my profiling skills, but beautiful women like you make me second-guess if I’m reading this right.” Dr. Reid laughs, avoiding looking at you. 

“Dr. Reid, I would love to get dinner with you,” You say, trying to sound confident. 

Dr. Reid beams as he meets your eyes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Cheesy that you’re calling me beautiful,” you laugh bashfully, waving him off. 

“I mean it!” Dr. Reid insists. “And, um– Would you want to do dinner after this? If you don’t have any other meetings, of course. Or any other plans– you’d probably have plans on a Friday night, right? Way to be presumptuous–”

“Dr. Reid! I don’t have plans tonight. A dinner date sounds great,” you laugh.

“Great! Great, good. I’m glad.” Dr. Reid says, looking a little giddy that you’d taken him up on it. “Also, um- I love when people call me Dr. Reid, but please just call me Spencer. Do you think people would get the wrong idea if you called me Dr. the whole time?” 

You cackle, Spencer looking thoroughly pleased at making you laugh. 

“Okay, Spencer,” you try his first name, and it rolls off your tongue with ease. “Let me pack up and then we can go get dinner.”

“I like when you say my name,” Spencer smiles. “What’re you feeling for dinner?”

If you and Spencer kiss at the end of your dinner date in front of your apartment door, that’s between you and him. 

You pulling Spencer into your apartment with your hands fisted in his hair should also stay between you and him. 

It doesn’t entirely stay between you and him, though, as Spencer calls his boss to turn Ellie’s playdate into a sleepover before he rolls over to kiss you and take you all over again. 

[metranart]

— HAWKS + DABI + BAKUGO + SHIGARAKI || THINGS THIS LOVESICK BOYS SAY WHEN IN BED WITH YOU

-----------HEADCANONS-----------

HAWKS

“Oh, my darling...fuck, keep doing that.” 

“You're so beautiful, I'm so glad we found each other.”

“I know I’m a mess-… what else was I supposed to do while waiting to make you mine?” 

“Lay back and let me do all the work. I’ve dreamed of eating your pretty pussy all week.”

“Hey, don’t shy away from me. C’mere-”

“You’re so fuckin’ soft. Shiiit…”

“Hey—no teasing the feathers.”

“I n-need to-... I just-…-I’m going to start moving now.”

“Arms around my neck and legs around my hips— ngh! Gravity is a bitch, I don’t want you falling on me, at least, not literally.”

“What a good mate, you respond to me so well."

“I’m so fuckin’ deep, my pretty girl-”

“Fuck—I can’t... I’m not gonna last-”

“Don’t be embarrassed. I love when you squirt on my face.”

“God I’ve wanted this for so long. I’m going to breed your pussy every day, all day long, even after I’ve knocked you up.”

“We're both getting older, babe, and if we want to have more chicks than stars in the sky, then we need to get started.”

“Tell me you love me-… tell me again.”

“I do get ahead of myself often, but I can’t help it. I just know we belong together-” 

“What do you say we try for a baby this time?”

"You’d be adorable, so swollen and full that you can't walk, that you'd have to rely on me for everything...”

“Touch yourself, c’mon. Let me see how you play the right notes.”

“You're going to be a wonderful mother for my chicks.”

“Let me help you move pretty, put your hands on mine.”

“No one’s gonna hear if I put my hand here… no biting, hun.”

“I’ll make it quick, darling... just—let me… let me go again.”

“Need a hand or a finger?”

“Just wait, baby... Fuuuuck—give me a damn minute.”

“Keep your eyes on me.”

“Arch your back, there you go, such a good girl.”

“Fuck, even after cumming you aren’t ready to accommodate my size. Don’t worry, baby,” he kisses your creased forehead, “—then just the tip this time.”

“Shit, I can’t help it—” you can feel him twitching excitedly inside you. “I just like you so damn much!” He grunts and snaps his hips again, diving deeper. 

“Just bear with me, I swear I’ll eat you for hours after…. Please, pretty, pleaseeeee…” He kept his pace, practically purring with his throaty groans. 

“No matter how much you didn’t want to admit it, I know how to fuck you well, ain’t I, beautiful?” 

“C’mon let me hear you, I can feel you getting tighter… my cock’s rubbing those hard-to-reach places…. Fuck! I- slid in so easily.”

“I’m painfully close-…. Fuck, I don’t want to cum yet…”

 “Is this your sweet spot I’m bullying?” 

“Each thrust is inching you closer… should I slow down or go faster?”

“Deeper? Okey-… just try to keep it together, I have neighbors.” 

“Give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“Try to keep your eyes open, I know it’s hard…b-but try for me beautiful.”

“Go ahead and sleep, honey, I’m not going anywhere.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

DABI

“What’d I did to deserve such a pretty thing like ya?”

“I’ve barely touch you. You really that hot for me, sweetheart?”

“Open your legs, not gonna say it again.”

“Doesn’t hurt, its already scarred skin.”

“If I have to kiss your tears away again, you are gonna get it— I’ve already told ya, it doesn’t hurt anymore-”

“Bury your hands in my hair, yes... Just like that.”

“Stop pushing me away. You’re gonna take it all, don’t make me shove it down your throat.”

“You love to play the feeble act, but your moans give you away, princess.”

“Nuh-uh, you haven’t cum yet.”

“I said ass up.”

“You want it so bad? beg.”

“Take them off before I rip them off of you, doll. Don’t try me.”

“Harder,” he mutters, not a minute after you started. “Harder,” he demands again.

“Could you go any slower? Ride me like you mean it, princess. I know you can.”

“Can barely feel that shit. You gotta do better than that, princess. You know I like it rough.”

“Fuck,” he bit out. “Yes, fuck…. Just like that.”

“Come on pretty girl. Ride me till you’re numb, yeah? Want you to fuck yourself stupid on my cock today.”

“Move my hands again and see what happens-”

“Fuck—” 

“Sorry, baby-… I just had to jump at the opportunity to sink my cock deeper.”

“Sit on it.”

“Worried it won’t fit? We always make it work just fine—”

“I don’t have condoms, they’re annoying.” He grunts the reply, inwardly absorbed with impatience. 

“Don’t move—Just gimme a minute… F-Fuck…”

“You fuckin’ genius, dammit, I love you so damn much! Not even I knew that spot— …” He shakes his head, in disbelief of the pleasure, even more so that you been the one to give it to him.

“Did you do that on purpose, princess? ‘cause now we are doing it every time.” 

“Fuck that. Don’t know if you heard sweetheart, but you were made for me to fuck and breed.”

“Stop it, no more whining—I’ll do my best to be…. gentler.” 

“Really? resist me all you want. I know you love being treated like this.”

“Ridiculous, I could stare at your pretty cunt all day long.” 

“Fuck Yeah! I adore the way your thighs tremble like jelly after you cum.”

“Should I pull out? Nah, better give me a daughter to spoil.”

“Unless you were playing with yourself before I got here, I’m guessing this is because of my pretty face?”

“Over my knee, now.”

“Sure, I love ya— but you are not in charge here, princess. Fuckin’ spread them for me.”

“Want me to spank that pussy? lay on my lap then-”

“One’s never enough, I know my princess’s pussy and its begging for another.”

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

BAKUGO (NSFW art teaser here!)

“Do you want me to fuck you harder, cutie?”

“You can be loud, I love to hear you, (Y/N).”

“I’ve waited so long for this...”

“That’s it... slow and easy—” 

“How much longer you gonna make me wait, baby?”

“You ever take it raw? Get a big load of cum in your pussy? —don’t shy on me, I know you love when I talk dirty to you.”

“Take it off before I tear it off.”

“Baby... please...I hate to beg-”

“Make me wait much longer and I’ll have to fuck you in an alley somewhere.”

“What a naughty little girl I have just to myself.”

“Ugh, so hot and wet.” 

“I said I wanted to eat your pussy, didn’t I? Just sit back and enjoy it, baby girl.”

“I’d hate to stop teasing you right before the fun part.”

“It’s so warm...”

“Who do you belong to?” 

 “Whose pussy is this? Say who you belong to.”

“God, what a good fucking cunt. It keeps clenching on my cock like it’s hungry for more milk. You want that? You want me to fill you up?”

“As you wish, princess.”

“You gonna cum?” 

“Go on, gorgeous. Cum on Daddy’s cock.”

“Fucking take it... take every drop...” 

“Nice and stuffed... all mine... my little slutty girl...”

“I said spread those fuckin’ folds.”

“So wet and tight, but my cock just slides right in. It’s like you were born to take me inside of your cunt.”

“Aren’t you a sight. All blissed out when we aren’t even done.”

“That’s right, darlin’. You didn’t think you could tease me for so long and get away with just one little fuck, did you?”

“Oh, did you think we were finished?”

“Did I stutter or somethin’?”

“Alright, baby girl, you asked for it. Just don’t come crying to me if you can’t move after I’m done with you.”

“Don’t move—Just a sec… F-Fuck…”

“No, this is-this is fine. This is beyond fine. Keep doing it, please.”

“Shit, darling, don’t-” 

“God, you make me so needy. Please.... fuck, please...”

“You feel so wonderful, I might go crazy—"

“More... please, more...”

“Fuck, I’m stretching you so good.”

“God, the thought of you ever doing something like this to anyone else... I can’t stand it.”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. You’re my precious BABY, now and forever."

NSFW ART OF THIS HEADCANONS IN MY PATREON

SHIGARAKI

“It isn’t even a ‘might’. I can tell you right now with the utmost certainty that you are MINE.”

“Keep looking into my eyes, don’t you fuckin’ look away…”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” He coos in a demeaning tone. “I’ll be your first and your last. Not any of these other NPCs.”

“I can hardly keep my hands to myself, your room or mine.”

“I can do whatever I want to you, I’m player one!”

“I know, I’m keeping track of my digits, don’t worry your pretty head.”

“You are too precious to me to turn to dust, my love.”

“I can’t- I’m dying to breed you, to bury my cock in your wet pussy. Don’t move, I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

“My pants are uncomfortably tight, the fabric’s straining against my throbbing dick, I told you not to put on that dress, dammit” Shigaraki’s practically scratching at the wooden table, surges of arousal shaking him to his core. “Can we go now? Like right NOW?!”

“MY girl, so pretty and needy for my cock.”

“You want him dead. You got it.” Ruby eyes stare through his bangs up at your face in some sort of silent promise. “—Of course, I will. You are my everything.”

“It hurts. I need you to- FUCK, just like that.”

“Fuck, how-how are you this fucking wet and warm inside, fuck, fuck…!”

“Please fuck me.”

“H-hey, I know a fun game we can play together… It’s called ‘how many times can I make you cum all over my cock?’” 

“One point, five points, ten points—Cumming again? Are you shooting for a new high-score, sweetheart?”

“Now... care if I use my mouth on you?”

“Just be good for me, and I’ll take very, very good care of you.”

"Look at you, so worked up over a few couple of fingers, did you miss me that much, sweetheart?" 

“Just looking at you is enough to, oh fuck, drive me wild.”

"So desperate for my cock to stuff you-say it, say you want my cock—ngh!”

"S-Shit,"

"Needy girl, I'll let you have it, be fucking grateful." 

"What? Fainting on me already?"

"Don't let me see you doing this again, or else."

“Just fuck me. I need you, (Y/N), please. Please just fuck bury on me already...! I want it...! I want YOU..!”

“Have it your way then.”

"Keep licking my balls, oh fuck! I’m gonna die—"

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-!"

“You look so pretty choking on my cock.”

“Where do you want it, baby? Mouth, breast, face, pussy… take your pick-”

"Are you close, sweetie?" 

“My feisty little girl. Aren’t you just adorable?”

"Good girl. Give me a minute and I’ll clean up that mess you made." 

“Cum for me. Cum on my cock and show me that you’re mine.”

“I just... wanted to cuddle a little more, is all. Didn’t want to... you know, waste the moment.”

“Don’t you worry, my love. I’ll be sure to give you anything you could ever want and more.” 

“You don’t have to take me all the way into your esophagus, but I expect you to make me cum, and yes, I do want you to swallow.”

“Go on, get on your knees.”

“Ngh, that’s it, keep going...”

“You look so wonderful like this, with your lips wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a pic for Dabi to swallow his words.” 

“I want you all to myself.”

“H-here it comes...Be sure... to drink... every.. last... drop...YOU ARE FUCKIN’ MINE!!”

I MADE SOME SICK NSFW ART FOR THIS HEADCANONS, YOU CAN CHECK THEM OUT IN MY PATREON. (Along with more MHA nsfw artwork)

[beloveds-embrace]

(Poly 141 x farmer reader: John gets dishonorably discharged, and finds a new purpose in accepting your farm job advertisement, and the rest of the taskforce task force slowly mould themselves into your life

This was inspired by @devil-in-hiding’s wonderful, amazing On the Run series! Make sure to send her and the fic so, so much love! 💕💞💕 truthfully, this isn’t much and it definitely didn’t turn out the way I hoped it would, but I still hope it’ll be enjoyable <33)

The creak of old wood and the faint hum of bees in the garden welcomed John as he stepped onto the porch of the small farmhouse. His boots, scuffed and caked with dried mud, felt heavier than ever, broad shoulders sagging under the invisible weight he carried. The sharp scent of freshly tilled earth and blooming wildflowers should have been a comfort, but John barely noticed it among all the thoughts swirling within his head.

It had been weeks since the dishonorable discharge (as if he’d ever leave his own men behind. As if.) , weeks of wandering aimlessly, a hollow shell of himself. The military had been his life, his purpose, and to be stripped of it so publicly left him untethered. The scars he’d accumulated over decades of service seemed trivial compared to this- the one wound he couldn’t bandage, couldn't let heal so it could turn to a forgotten scab.

The farm job advertisement he’d found on the bulletin board of a dingy diner while aimlessly driving had been a last-ditch effort. He needed something- anything- to keep his hands busy and his mind from spiraling.

And now here he was, standing at your door.

When you answered, he was struck silent for a moment. You weren’t what he had expected. A soft curve of a smile greeted him, paired with eyes that seemed to hold the warmth of the sun itself. Your frame was wrapped in a well-worn but clean dress, your body curvy and full in a way that instantly set you apart from the wiry, hardened edges of his old world. There was something disarming about the way you stood there, your hands dusted with flour, your hair slightly mussed from whatever you’d been working on before he arrived.

You were what he’d worked so hard to protect. To keep from seeing the horrors that were kept hidden from the larger public.

“You must be John Price,” you said, your voice soft but firm, like the lull of rain against a tin roof. You offered him a hand, strong but gentle, calloused with years of hardwork. “I’m glad you came. I’ve been needing some help around here.”

John nodded stiffly, his voice rasping from disuse. “Happy to help.” He said simply, though the words felt foreign in his mouth.

You studied him for a moment, taking in the set of his jaw and the way his blue eyes seemed darker than they should have been. You didn’t press, didn’t ask why he was here or what had brought him to your quiet corner of the world. Instead, you gestured for him to follow you as you began pointing out the work that needed doing.

The farm was modest but well-kept, with rolling fields of golden wheat and neat rows of vegetables that hinted at how hard you worked to keep everything running. Your tone shifted as you explained things, clear and confident as you outlined his responsibilities- though you had those written in the ad as well, and so he knew what to expect. There was no hesitation in the way you moved, and John found himself admiring the way your body seemed made for this life- strong and soft, with a natural grace that made him feel clumsy in comparison. A foreign feeling to him.

The work was grueling, but John threw himself into it with a determination that surprised even him. Fences were mended, fields were tilled, and hay was hauled, the strain in his muscles a welcome distraction from the heaviness in his chest, the daily routine providing a purpose he’d been searching for. You worked alongside him every day, your hands as dirty as his by the end of it. You didn’t shy away from the harder tasks, your body bending and lifting with an ease that left him stealing glances when you weren’t looking.

It didn’t take long for you to notice the cracks in him, though. The way his eyes seemed haunted in the quieter moments, or how he would pause, his hands clenching into fists as if fighting off a memory. He wasn’t sleeping well- you could tell by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he moved in the mornings, sluggish and stiff, gratefully accepting the tea you’d make. He wouldn’t talk about it, but you saw the weight he carried, and it broke something in you.

You began helping him in your own quiet way. A warm, full plate of food at the end of a long day, a soft blanket folded neatly on the porch swing when you knew he’d sit there at night. You didn’t pry, but you’d offer him small comforts, like the way you’d linger for a moment longer when handing him a glass of water, letting your fingers brush his.

“You’re doing good work here, John,” you told him one evening as you set a plate of stew in front of him. Your voice was gentle, though it left no room for argument. “Thank you. I’m glad it was you who came by.”

He grunted in response, but the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He appreciated your kindness, though he didn’t know how to express it. He couldn’t shake the way you made him feel- not just useful, but seen.

The first visitor arrived a few weeks later, just as you were finishing up the morning chores. Simon- whom John introduced as Ghost, military callsigns were strange to you- was as imposing as his name suggested, his tall frame and masked face almost startling you when you turned the corner of the barn.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, low and gravelly. His dark eyes studied you carefully, as if trying to assess whether you were friend or foe. “Heard John was here. Wanted to check on him.”

Simon stayed, though he didn’t say why and you didn’t ask. At first, it seemed like he was just there to make sure John was alright, but soon enough, he was pitching in, fixing broken tools and hauling heavy loads with an ease that belied his quiet nature. He was efficient and methodical, and your german shepherd dog, Riley, adored him from the get-go.

You noticed the way he watched you, his gaze lingering when you didn’t think he’d notice. Simon had a way of positioning himself near you, as if he could ward off any harm just by being close. He’d take over heavy tasks without you asking, broad shoulders and strong hands making easy work of things that left you breathless when John was busy doing something else.

The rain brought Kyle “Gaz” Garrick to your doorstep after Simon, his clothes soaked through and his face muted with exhaustion. He knocked once, and when you opened the door, his lopsided grin and the sparkle in his brown eyes immediately disarmed you.

“You must be the saint putting up with Price,” he’d joked, though his voice was warm as you fluttered and flitted about to bring him some towels, warm food and a chance to warm up. “Mind if I dry off before I drown?”

Kyle brought a lightness to the farm that you hadn’t even known had been missing, his laughter and teasing filling the air like birdsong. He quickly took to the work, his lean frame surprisingly strong as he helped with everything from repairing the chicken coop to plowing the fields. But you caught the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, his smile lingering when you were near, and especially bright whenever you’d poke back at him.

“You sure you’re not too soft for this kind of work, Garrick?” you teased after he groaned about the weight of a hay bale, hands on your hips.

“Soft?” he shot back, flexing an arm, and then he winked at you. “These are prime muscles, love. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep sneakin’ looks.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at the accusation, and Kyle smirked.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish arrived with the same energy as a summer storm, his laughter echoing through the fields before you even saw him. “Hope you’ve got room for one more!” he declared, his broad grin making you smile despite yourself.

Johnny was impossible to ignore, his enthusiasm infectious. He worked tirelessly, his hands calloused but gentle as he helped. He had a way of making you laugh, his jokes and compliments leaving your cheeks warm more often than not.

He immediately took to helping you with the animals especially, affectionately naming every goat and chicken, and teasing you about how they seemed to follow you everywhere.

“It’s because they know a good soul when they see one.” he said one evening, brushing hay from your hair. His fingers lingered a second too long before he pulled back, and you pretended your smile wasn’t bashful and your heart wasn’t thudding faster than baby goats running to drink their milk bottles.

The four of them fell into an easy rhythm just like that, their camaraderie seamless, and you truly understood just how close of a unit they must have been.

But what you didn’t notice was the way they watched over you. Whether it was John stepping in to take a heavy load from your hands or Simon silently following you to make sure you were safe, they all seemed to share an unspoken agreement to protect you.

And then there was the way they looked at you- not just with admiration, but with something deeper. John admired the way you carried yourself, your curves soft yet strong, a quiet confidence in every step. Simon found himself drawn to your steadiness, your calm presence soothing the chaos in his mind. Kyle loved your kindness, the way you always seemed to know what they needed without asking. And Johnny? Johnny adored everything about you, from your laugh to the way your body moved with an effortless grace.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you all sat on the porch, the scent of freshly cut hay hanging in the air.

“You’ve all been such a big help,” you said, your voice soft and happy as you looked at them, Riley curled near your feet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

John’s eyes met Simon’s, and Kyle and Johnny exchanged a glance.

“We’re not going anywhere,” John said finally, his voice steady. “Not if you’ll have us.”

You smiled, a warmth spreading through your chest as you looked out at the fields.

You had… truly never expected your precious little farm to become such a sanctuary for others as it was for you, but you were glad. It meant you were doing something right.

Something very right, going by the way you caught them looking at you.

At first, you hadn’t thought much of it. You were used to glances- it came with being a little softer, a little curvier than most women. People always seemed to look a little longer than they needed to, whether out of judgment or admiration, though you’d long since stopped trying to figure out which.

But this? This was different.

John’s gaze lingered when he thought you wouldn’t notice, sharp blue eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the swell of your thighs as you bent to collect eggs or reached up to pull a stubborn weed. When your skirts brushed your legs in the breeze, you swore you saw his jaw tighten, the flicker of something restrained in his expression before he turned back to whatever task he’d assigned himself for the day.

Simon was harder to read, but not impossible. He was quiet, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his cap or the mask he still occasionally wore out of habit, but there was a weight to the way he watched you. He never let you out of his sight if he could help it, always a step behind you when you carried something too heavy, his broad frame so steady and reliable it made your breath catch sometimes. When your hands brushed- accidentally, at first- he didn’t pull away quickly like most men would. Instead, he lingered just long enough for you to notice, just long enough to make you wonder how it would feel to have his fingers dig into your softness.

Kyle was far less subtle. He flirted openly, grinning whenever he managed to make you blush, which was often. He’d find any excuse to compliment you- how strong you were, how beautiful your smile was, how lovely your hair looked in the sunlight. It was playful at first, but then came the moments when his teasing turned quiet, almost tender, like when he brushed dirt off your cheek or tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His hands always hovered, careful but close enough to leave you wondering if he’d reach for you properly if you just gave him the smallest sign.

And Johnny? Johnny was a walking storm of affection. He wasn’t shy about how much he adored you. From the way he complimented your cooking- “I swear, love, you’re a magician in that kitchen”- to how he always seemed to find a reason to be near you, even when he wasn’t working. He’d lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and a crooked grin on his face as he watched you knead dough or arrange flowers in a vase. And then there were the touches- small, fleeting things, like his hand on the small of your back as he passed by or the way his fingers grazed yours when he handed you tools.

You’d been blind to it at first, convincing yourself it was just gratitude for the work, for the meals, for the home you’d offered them. But as the days stretched into weeks and their gazes grew heavier, their presence closer, it became harder and harder to ignore the truth.

They admired you.

Not just as a caretaker or a friend, but as something more- something deeper.

It was there in the way John’s voice softened when he spoke to you, the way Simon’s posture shifted when anyone unfamiliar stepped onto the property, putting himself between you and whatever potential threat he saw. It was in the way Kyle’s jokes always seemed to circle back to how lovely you looked doing even the simplest things, and the way Johnny’s laughter died in his throat whenever you smiled at him just a little too long.

And the realization left you flustered- unsure of what to do with the warmth that bloomed in your chest whenever they lingered too close or brushed against you without meaning to.

They all cared for you, and in a way that went far beyond just gratitude.

The knowledge sent your heart racing whenever one of them looked at you like that- like you were something precious, something worth protecting. Like you were worth staying for.

And maybe- just maybe- you were ready to let them.

[skzdust]

Can I Touch?

SMUT. MINORS DNI.

Merry Christmas, everyone. This is my smutty present to all of you and to Bee especially lol.

This fic was a request from @kpop---scenarios (here) and a part of my 500 followers celebration!! Big thanks for requesting bestie and I hope you love it <3 The prompt was #23, caught in the act, with Lee Know, NSFW!

Summary: Minho is horny at a party, and now it's your problem... and, when you sneak into Hyunjin's room, it becomes his problem, too.

Pairing: Lee Know x Hyunjin x fem!reader

Includes: fucking at a party, an unexpected visitor, nipple play, unprotected sex, kissing

Word count: 1.3k

Taglist (Comment on a post/send an ask if you'd like to be added): @weirdowithaphone, @caught-in-the-afterglow, @palindrome969, @skzstan12345, @katsukis1wife,

@hyunjinsjeans, @somethingkindazainy, @silverstarburst, @atzlordz, @jeonginsleftcheek

Network:@mirohs-aurora-society

Reblogs, likes, comments all appreciated!!!

Masterlist

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Minho leaned in by your ear. “C’mon, baby, just come with me for a second?”

You laughed softly. “Everyone’s here, Minho, they’ll notice if we’re gone.”

“No, they won’t.” His breath tickled your ear. “No one will know. It’ll just be you and me.”

You swallowed. You couldn’t deny that it sounded appealing. Minho had spent the whole evening working you up— his hands grazing your thigh, or lingering a bit too long on your waist. His eyes roaming your chest, your whole body. You wanted him, and it was clear he wanted you. “Minho… I don’t know.”

“But I need you, baby.” He murmured. “Need you bad.”

You sucked a breath in through your teeth. “You need me so bad you can’t wait till we get home?”

“Exactly.” He nipped at your earlobe, and you were glad the girl you’d been talking to had wandered off a minute ago, leaving no one to pay attention to Minho’s blatant attempts to turn you on.

“Okay.” You whispered. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but… yes.”

“Sounds good.” He pressed a kiss to your neck. “Let’s go find a bedroom.”

Your stomach leapt as Minho led you by the hand up the stairs. “Min, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Yeah… I know which one is Hyunjin’s. He won’t care.”

You laughed. “You mean he won’t care if we fuck on his bed?”

“Exactly.” Minho smiled, pushing open a door. “Come on in.”

You followed him into the room, and he shut the door before pressing you against it and all but growling in your ear. “Baby… you look so good in that little fucking dress. Trying to tease me all night.”

“I wasn’t trying to tease you.” You said, but you were breathless already as Minho’s hand found its way up your skirt to play with your underwear.

“Sure.” He ran his fingers over your pussy, prompting a whine. You were so sensitive to his touch, especially when you were already horny.

“Okay, so, maybe a little bit.” You admitted.

“Just what I thought, baby.” He kissed you, long, searing on your lips. You could barely breathe as he invaded your mouth, his tongue pressing against yours. His hand was still playing with you, and you couldn’t help but moan into his mouth.

“Oh, you like that?” He rubbed at your pussy harder through your underwear, the fabric rough against you.

“Yes, Minho.” You exhaled.

“Get on the bed.”

You wiggled your underwear off, throwing them somewhere on the floor, and landed on your back on the bed.

Minho crawled on top of you, and as you looked down you could see the bulge in his pants. “You want it, baby? You want it inside you?”

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Want it deep inside me, Minho. We gotta be fast.”

He laughed as he leaned down to kiss you again, hard, demanding. He broke away and sat back to pull off his pants and boxers.

He was already hard, but he stroked himself a few times as he lined himself up with your hole. “Just know you’re gonna be so good around me.”

You just whined, angling your hips up.

Minho rubbed his tip around a little bit, getting it wet with your slick, and began to push inside. He was about halfway in when the door hinges squeaked.

You both froze, whipping towards the door.

Hyunjin stood there, his eyebrows raised. “Well, I didn’t expect you guys to be in here.”

Minho began to pull out.

“No, no, don’t stop.” Hyunjin closed the door, leaning against it, watching the two of you. “Go on. If you’re borrowing my room, you at least should give me a show.”

You nodded, looking at Minho. “We should, shouldn’t we?”

He smirked. “We should.” He pushed back inside with one big thrust that made your eyes roll back and pulled a long moan from your throat.

“Fuck.” Hyunjin said softly.

“She’s so pretty when she’s getting fucked, isn’t she?” Minho’s voice was fond, tender. “I’ve always thought so.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Hyunjin groaned. “She’s fucking hot is what she is.”

“My girl, Hyunjin.” Minho reminded him with a smirk.

“You’re giving me a show. Aren’t I supposed to be watching?”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t watch.” Minho fucked into you again, and your moan was broken. “Just don’t try to touch.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

“Good.” Minho’s hands wrapped around your waist, and he began to fuck you in earnest, his speed picking up. All you could do was grab at his hands and moan, your hips bucking up to meet his.

“Can’t I just touch a little?” Hyunjin’s voice was playful. “Those tits look so nice in that dress.”

Minho stopped moving, looking at you. “Y/n, how do you feel about Hyunjin touching you?”

“Yes.” You said, wriggling in an effort to get Minho to start up again. “Yes, Hyunjin, please touch me.”

Minho smirked again. “Play with her nipples.”

Hyunjin sat behind you, moving your head into his lap, as he leaned over to push the strapless top of your dress down.

“Fuck.” You moaned, your whole body arching off the bed as he began to roll your nipples between his fingers and Minho began to thrust into you again.

“Pretty girl.” He said, his voice a warm contrast to the rough treatment he was giving your tits.

“Sharing might not be so bad, look at how sensitive and twitchy she is.” Minho’s voice was arrogant. You couldn’t see him at this point, your eyes were squeezed shut at all of the sensations washing over you.

“So much.” You breathed.

“Is it too much, baby?” Minho’s voice softened.

“No!” You said quickly. “No, keep going, please, both of you.”

Hyunjin pinched your nipples at the same time, and you let out a little cry. Minho drilled into your hole harder, pushing the air out of you with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm fast approaching.

As you hit the peak of your pleasure, Hyunjin’s ministrations slowed. “No, no, keep going!” You managed to get out through your moans.

“Okay.” He whispered, pinching you even harder. You practically screamed, arching off the bed as they continued to work your body.

You collapsed back down, but neither of them stopped. You felt overstimulated, every sensation so strong and intense, but you didn’t want it to stop. You wanted to be a good girl and get Minho off. You laid there and let it all wash over you.

And soon enough he did cum, deep inside you, with a long groan. Hyunjin’s hands only slowed as Minho pulled out, cum spilling onto Hyunjin’s sheets.

“Ah, sorry.” Minho laughed, looking down.

“It’s okay, I can wash them.” Hyunjin smiled. “Thank you for letting me join, both of you.”

“You’re welcome to share me again, if you like.” You offered, pushing yourself up. You knew you looked thoroughly debauched, your hair messy, your makeup surely running, your top pushed down and your skirt pushed up.

“Fuck, you’re a vision, y/n.” Hyunjin breathed, and you looked down to see how hard he was.

“If… if Minho’s okay with it, you can use me, if you want.” You said.

Minho nodded. “As long as you make her feel good, too.”

Hyunjin swallowed, his eyes raking over you. “I want to make her feel so good.”

You whined.

“Then be my guest.” Minho moved from between your legs, and Hyunjin took his spot. Minho began to stroke your hair, kissing down your neck, as Hyunjin lined himself up.

 You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[solsticescribe]

Simon Riley x reader one-shot

Simon came home from a long deployment last night. You had no idea where he was during that time or what happened, you knew you were not supposed to know anything. You were just glad that he was back and safe.

After a great struggle of getting out of his hold this morning, you started unpacking his bag that he left on the floor right in the middle of the hallway (he was too busy thinking about getting into bed with you to care about where he left his stuff).

As you took out his dirty clothes, you noticed what looked like a plastic bag on the bottom. After starting the washing machine and getting the rest of his stuff out, you took the beige package into your hands to examine it.

What you were currently holding in your hand was an MRE. You’ve seen people all over Tiktok reviewing these meals and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about what they were like. Looks like this could be your chance to find out.

As you were examining the packet, you felt two bulky arms wrap around you and a face nuzzling your neck. “Mhh morning love” You heard Simon’s voice grumbling, still heavy with sleep. “Morning. Isn’t a bit too early for you to be up? You should sleep some more” You kissed all over his face and neck where you could reach. Simon shook his head. “ ‘s not as good without you in bed” “Are you hungry by any chance? I have some breakfast ready” You pointed to the pan sitting on the stove, his favorite breakfast, that you made earlier, just waiting to be heated up.

“Maybe later” He cupped your cheeks and pressed multiple little kisses to your lips. He had his eyes closed, fully emerged in the feeling of having you close to him and finally being able to love on you properly.

“What do you want to do with that?” He asked in between kisses, referring to the bag in your hands. He still had his eyes still closed and not showing any sign that he wishes to stop with the kisses.

“Well, can I try it? If you don’t need it” You held his face in your hands, stopping him so that you would have enough time to speak. “Whatever you want sweetheart. I was planning on throwing it out. Don’t expect anything gourmet though”

He left you at the counter to unbox everything from the MRE packet while he turned on the stove to heat up his breakfast.

Simon fixed himself a plate and sat next to you, watching your expression as you tried the different snacks and meal included in the bag. He smiled to himself, thinking about just how adorable you looked, eyes lighting up when trying things you liked and furrowing when you didn’t like something.

His own meal was soon forgotten, leaning on the countertop, he watched you fumble around with the small packets with a barely noticeable smile on his face. He found this quite amusing.

Trying the last thing included, you were disappointed by the blandness of it. You put everything in the bin and sat on Simon’s lap. “I’m sorry you have to eat that so often” You said while wrapping your arms around his neck. He just hummed, one arm around your waist to hold you closer, with the other, he held up a bite from his left-over breakfast to help wash away the taste in your mouth. You eagerly took the fork in your mouth. “Wanna know why isn’t it so bad?” He asked while preparing another bite for you “I know that I get to come home to you and your cooking. Makes it all worth it to keep you safe”