#reads these things like the morning paper

[katsu28]

love you always

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando plans a series of surprises for you on valentine's day. (2.4k)

a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!! here's something sweet <3 believe it or not it's 3AM and i wrote this all in one go so if you see any errors no you don't ;)

The surprises start first thing in the morning. 

Lando is up and out of the house for training long before you even stir, but made sure you woke up to something nice. When you shuffle out to the kitchen in much need of coffee to get your day going, you’re pleasantly surprised by a full pot of the good coffee made with beans you’ve always saved for special occasions, and pastries from your favorite bakery. 

A little note beside the box of mouthwatering baked goods reads a message from your boyfriend. 

happy valentine’s day, my love. sorry i couldn’t be there when you woke up, but i hope these make you smile. be on the lookout for more surprises today <3 love you always - LN 

The second surprise is waiting for you when you make your way to work. You’ve barely just walked into the office when you’re approached by Cass, one of your closest work friends. 

“Girl, you are one lucky bitch. I’d die if my man got me something like that,” She gushes, eyes gleaming. You squint at her in confusion.

“Sorry, what?” You say, unsure. She just smiles knowingly, tilting her head towards your cubicle. It isn’t until you lay eyes on your desk that you see what she’s talking about. 

A giant bouquet of red roses with baby’s breath scattered amongst the bunch sits on your chair, wrapped in colorful paper and tied together with a string. Nestled in it is another note from Lando, this one with the message embossed on crisp cardstock—

told you i’d have more surprises :) if i know you (and i’m pretty sure i do), you’re too caught up with the roses to notice the other thing, so look on your desk. maybe wear it tonight? love you always - LN

Lando is right, you hadn’t noticed the small box sitting right in the middle of your desk, seemingly nothing until you open it carefully.

A necklace sparkles out at you—a pendant of your birthstone, hanging on a delicate chain. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and another beautiful necklace to add to the ever growing collection of jewelry Lando’s gifted you in your time together. 

Wear it tonight. 

There was no doubt that Lando had planned a date for tonight, but you’d been unsuccessful in weaseling any details out of him these past few days leading up to today. 

“Can you just tell me what you’ve got planned?” You whine, pouting over at Lando where he’s putting away his shirts in the wardrobe. “Like, what restaurant are we going to?”

“Um, no.” He shoots you a look that screams judgement, but you know it’s all in good nature. “That would completely ruin the surprise.” 

“But I need to figure out what I’m going to wear,” You reason, sitting up quickly. Lando pins you to the spot with another disapproving look that you ignore, digging in your metaphorical heels. “What if I show up looking like an absolute slob because you didn’t tell me it was somewhere fancy? That would be your fault, not mine.” 

Lando finishes his task, coming over to the bed where you’re sat cross-legged, and props himself up on his elbows right in front of you. “First of all, you never look like a slob. Even when you’re on the last day of your hair wash cycle and you’ve just come back from a run, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“That’s disgusting, but…oddly sweet of you.” 

“Second of all,” He says pointedly, poking you in the leg for interrupting him, “If I tell you where I’ve made reservations, you’ll spend all day thinking about it and you’ll freak yourself out like you tend to do. So no, I’m not telling you what I’ve got planned.” 

Well, no one can ever say Lando doesn’t know you. He knows you too well, really. Knows your tendencies, exactly what’ll be running through your mind.  

“I hate how perfect you are,” You sniff, wrinkling your nose at him. 

“Yeah, I love you too, baby.” 

You know Lando is probably busy with training so you don’t call him, but you do shoot him a thank you text, to which he returns with a whole slew of love related emojis. 

You’re not usually one to enjoy being showered with gifts, but the fact that he’s planned all these surprises to make sure you know he’s thinking of you has butterflies fluttering in your chest. 

Lando never ceases to make you feel so loved, all the time, even when he’s not physically there with you. 

You’re hard at work when your Cass calls your name around noon, drawing you out of your focus. 

“Hey, there’s a food delivery person asking for you at the front desk.” 

“Are you sure? I didn’t order anything,” You reply, brows creased in curiosity. 

You hadn’t ordered anything, but thinking about food makes you realize you’d completely forgotten to pack your lunch before you’d left the house this morning. Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing it in the fridge on the shelf where it usually is. 

She shrugs. “They’re asking for you.”

You thank Cass quickly, making your way to the lobby to meet the delivery person. 

“Hi!” You say politely. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I didn’t order anything. Maybe you’ve got the wrong address?”

One look at the restaurant name on the bag almost has you taking back your words, because it’s from your favorite little cafe in the city, and if you take a deep enough breath, you can almost smell the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the paper bag. 

The poor delivery driver looks as puzzled as you feel. She blinks, looking at something on her phone before tilting her head. “Uh, I don’t think so? The system said the order was placed by a Bob N? Do you know a Bob that would order takeaway to this address?” 

You have to fight the urge to laugh. Of course it was Lando who’d ordered takeaway. Another Valentine’s Day surprise for you, it seems. 

“Wow, I’m so sorry for the confusion. My boyfriend, he must’ve had it sent here without letting me know,” You explain, feeling your cheeks blaze warm. “Yes, it’s for me.” 

“Oh my god, that’s so cute! Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She gushes, passing over the bag.

“Yeah, he is,” You chuckle. “Thank you so much, have a great day! Sorry again for the mix up.” 

“You too, happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Upon opening the bag when you get back to your desk, you see something tucked in beside the takeaway container. Yet another note, not printed nor in his handwriting, so he’d probably made a special request for the restaurant to write it. 

hope you’re hungry! enjoy your lunch, baby. day’s halfway over, see you soon <3 love you always - Bob

This time, you do call Lando as you munch on your food. 

“Hi, baby!” You chirp happily. 

“Hey, you,” He greets back, sounding glad to hear your voice. He always does whenever you give him a ring. “What’s up?” 

“How’d you know I’d forgotten my lunch?” 

“What? You did? No way!” Lando sounds a little too smug to be innocent, and it isn’t hard to connect the dots now. 

You chuckle, a little disbelieved. “Did you seriously hide my lunch just so you could have takeaway delivered to my office?” 

“I did no such thing. Did I accidentally toss it out whilst I was taking out the rubbish last night? Maybe. But we’ll never know, will we?” 

“Sure we won’t. Thank you, by the way. I’ve been craving this all week.” 

“I know. Heard you muttering about it in your sleep the other night. Fuckin’ weirdo.” You can almost imagine him grinning that big toothy smile of his that you love, shaking his head at you. “Anyways, good news. I managed to convince Jon to let me off early today, so I can pick you up from work.” 

“Really? How’d you swing that?” 

“Might’ve let it slip I’ve got something special planned for us tonight and he caved. That man is such a sucker for love, it’s crazy.” 

“So you’ll tell your trainer what we’re doing tonight, but you won’t tell me? That’s messed up, Norris,” You say teasingly. He laughs. 

“Well, he’s not the one I’m trying to surprise, you muppet. You’ll find out soon enough, don’t you worry,” Lando tuts. You hear someone say something on his end of the line that Lando gives a muffled reply to, but he’s back before you know it. “M’sorry, I gotta get back to it. I’ll see you at five?” 

“I’ll be waiting. Tell Jon I say hi and thanks for giving you some freedom today. Love you always!” 

“Love you always.” 

-------

The rest of the workday goes by without any more Lando surprises, but you’re still nearly buzzing with energy because of the fact you get to see him earlier than you’d expected. After a long day of work, your wonderful boyfriend is just what you need. 

You see him through the doors before he sees you. He’s leaning against the side of his sleek Porsche, cap backwards on his head as he squints through the waning sunlight in search of you and looking unfairly handsome while doing so. You even pause to snap a sneaky photo of him because he just looks so good. 

When you finally exit the building, Lando beams, holding a hand up in greeting. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiles, leaning in for a kiss as soon as you get within arms’ length of him. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you too, Lan.” You mean it. Even though you’ve only been apart for a workday, he’s been on your mind throughout it. You don’t know how you survive race weeks without being with him all the time. 

“Ready to go home?” 

“Never been more ready. Maybe I’ll worm some information about tonight out of you on the way.” 

“Sneaky girl. Right, I’ll tell you this, it’s a nice restaurant. Somewhere we’ve been before.” 

“But not my favorite restaurant, because you already got me food from there today.” 

“Observant, aren’t you? No, not that one.” He opens the passenger side door for you to get in and you do, wracking your brain for any idea of where Lando would be taking you in a few hours. “Alright, don’t think too hard about it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself now.” 

“Rude.” 

“Look, is it alright for me to lightly suggest what I think you could wear?” He asks, pulling out of the car park and onto the road. You shoot him a look that tells him to be careful, but still nod slowly. “That dress that I like. The swishy one with the thin straps that make your boobs look—” 

“Lando.” 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little carried away,” He says sheepishly. “But yeah, that one would be perfect.” 

“That’s a nice one,” You hum, tilting your head in thought. “You’ve got good taste after all.” 

“Um, yeah, I know. I bought it.” 

-------

You’ve got on the dress that Lando suggested, but there’s one thing you always forget about this specific one. The zipper on the back is near impossible for you to get all the way up on your own. No matter how hard you try, you’ve always had to get Lando to help you that last bit. 

“Lan, could you c’mere a second?” You call down the corridor. Footsteps echo right away, and then he’s in the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his dress shirt with intense focus. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Could you zip me?” 

“Could I—oh, fuck.” 

You make eye contact in the mirror in front of you and Lando freezes right where he is, mouth ajar, blinking at you like he can’t believe you’re real and in front of him. 

“Help?” You urge, fighting an amused smile at how absolutely floored he looks. 

He gives his head a shake, rushing over to help you. Shaky fingers slide the delicate zipper up until it’s good. “Sorry, I just—every time you wear that dress I think I forget how to breathe a little bit.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

“You should be. Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” His gaze flits to your necklace, the new one you’d gotten today, and his mouth curves into a smile. “That’s a nice one. Wonder who got it for you?” 

“My boyfriend, actually. Dunno if you know him, but he’s kinda the best. Massive forehead though.” 

“Oh, you’re funny,” He huffs, nose wrinkling in overdramatic offense that makes you giggle. “Kiss?” 

“You’d have my lipstick all over your mouth.” 

“Does it look like I care? I wanna kiss you.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you let him kiss you. While you’re expecting a short kiss, Lando takes it a step further, two hands sliding behind you to dip you backwards a little bit to deepen it. To say you’re taken by surprise is a slight understatement, but you go with what he’s doing. 

You kiss him until you’re breathless, pulling back with a hand splayed over his chest. 

Lando grins goofily with lipstick smudges all over his mouth. “Totally worth it,” He says, looking absolutely giddy.

Once you’ve reapplied what had rubbed off on Lando, you’re off through the city in Lando’s favorite car. The more familiar your surroundings get, the more you realize where he’s taking you, and your suspicions are concerned when he pulls up to the valet. 

The restaurant where you’d had your first date. 

Lando always tells you how he’d known he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with you on that first date, even before your entrees came. You always tell him you’d known it then too. 

“Did I do good?” He asks hopefully, holding out his elbow for you to loop your arm through as soon as he’s helped you out of the car.

“You did perfect, Lan. I might cry, actually.” 

“No, don’t do that! You’ll mess up your mascara and then you’ll look like a raccoon for the rest of the night.” 

You scoff lightly, successfully blinking back tears. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

“We would not. Though I’d still think you were the cutest raccoon out of all the raccoons.” 

“You’re so dumb. I love you.” 

“Love you, babe. Always.” 

A nice dinner at a restaurant dear to your heart with the love of your life. It’s all you could’ve asked for, and Lando has gone beyond that to show you how much he loves you. 

On a Valentine’s Day full of wonderful surprises, this is the best one of all.

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[supernotnatural2005]

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Edging

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Exploring new kinks with Dean. How far can you push him before he breaks?

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings/tags: SMUT! (18+ONLY!!!), edging, swearing, kinks, fluff

AN: So for one of my bingo submissions, I was given the prompt Wax Play < (Which you can read here). I had mentioned making it into an anthology, kink series, and this kinda just fell out of my head and onto paper. 😅 So, I thought it would work well as part of that universe? I'd say this is a bit of a prequel, another kink exploration. If you would like to see more of these, please let me know? 💕

Masterlist

Dean woke up to the feeling of you.

Soft, warm, draped across him like you belonged there—which, at this point, you damn well did. The first thing he felt was your fingers, featherlight as they traced over his stomach, dipping beneath the hem of his boxers, not quite touching where he already ached from the morning alone. The second thing he felt was your lips, pressing slow, deliberate kisses along his jaw, down his neck, nipping just enough to make his breath hitch.

“Morning,” you murmured against his skin, voice still thick with sleep.

Dean groaned, blinking blearily as he reached for you, pulling you on top of him so he could kiss you properly.

Your mouth was warm, inviting, your lips moving against his in that way that made his entire body react instantly. The lazy slide of your tongue against his sent heat pooling in his stomach, and when you rocked against him — the feel of the warm dampness of your panties rubbing against him — he swore under his breath.

His hands roamed over your body, slipping under your shirt, fingers tracing the curves he knew so damn well. He needed you—needed you under him, around him, all of you — but you had other plans.

Your touch turned purposeful, teasing, your nails raking lightly over his chest, your fingers slipping lower, brushing over his cock through the fabric of his boxers.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his grip tightening on your hips as his head fell back against the pillow. His body was already strung tight, aching for more, and just when he thought you’d finally give it to him—

You stopped.

Dean let out a strangled noise as you rolled off him with a smirk, stretching like you hadn’t just left him hanging.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as he ran a hand down his face. Right. He fucking agreed to this.

This wasn’t out of the blue—not with you.

From the start, you had met him toe-to-toe, not just in the hunt, but in everything else. Sex included. You matched him in ways no one else ever had—you enjoyed it just as much as he did, never shying away from what you wanted, and you had been giving him a run for his money since day one.

Recently, though, you had started pushing things further—both of you had. It wasn’t just about good sex anymore (though, damn, it was always good); it was about exploring, testing each other’s limits, finding new ways to unravel each other. Some things were new, things neither of you had done before, and some were things you’d just never done together.

And that was how, last night, wrapped up in bed with you, his body still buzzing from round two, you had propped yourself up on your elbow and given him that look.

"Let me edge you tomorrow."

At first, he had laughed, figuring you were just messing with him. But then your fingers had danced across his skin, your voice dipping into something sultry and teasing as you explained—

"I mean it, Dean. No touching yourself, no finishing until I say."

That had sobered him up real fast.

You had gone on to say you wanted to see him unravel under you, to see him desperate, begging—something you knew he wasn’t used to. And Dean, ever the cocky bastard, had just smirked.

"Sweetheart, you can try."

Yeah. Big fucking mistake.

Now, here he was, hard as a rock and throbbing — and it was only the start of the day — while you walked into the bathroom like you hadn’t just ruined his life.

“…You’re evil.”

You just winked at him before shutting the door.

Dean groaned, rolling onto his stomach to press his face into the pillow. He was in for a long fucking day.

Dean was still on edge by the time the three of you sat down at the diner for breakfast. He’d taken an ice-cold shower, drank half a pot of coffee, and tried not to think about how smug you looked every time he shifted uncomfortably.

The place was your standard roadside joint—checkered floors, peeling leather seats, the smell of grease and coffee thick in the air. It was the kind of place Dean loved, under any other circumstances. But right now, he was too distracted, too worked up. 

You sat right beside him, thigh pressed to his, radiating warmth. It shouldn’t have been a problem. Should’ve been normal. But it wasn’t—not after you’re little stunt this morning.

He shifted in his seat, adjusting himself as subtly as possible. Sam was talking, something about the case, and Dean forced himself to tune in.

"Mark White," Sam said, tapping away on the laptop in front of him. "Every witness we've talked to mentions him—he’s been spotted with all the missing girls. Seems to be using some kind of college chatroom, specifically targeting young girls. He lures them in, promises VIP access to this underground club, and then poof—they’re gone."

Dean nodded, trying to focus. “So, what, we thinking lone vamp, or is this a full nest situation?”

Before Sam could answer, Dean felt it—your hand, settling lightly on his thigh.

At first, it was nothing. Just a casual touch. He forced himself to ignore it, to listen as Sam continued.

"I say we divide and conquer," Sam said. "One of us monitors the chatrooms, see if he tries to bait another girl. The other two stake out the club tonight—see if we can confirm he's our guy and if he’s really working alone.”

Dean hummed in acknowledgment, willing his body to relax. But then your fingers started moving—just barely, a slow, absentminded stroke along the inside of his thigh. Innocent enough, but his whole body reacted, tightening with anticipation.

He swallowed thickly, staring down at his coffee cup, burning a hole in the black liquid as his forced himself to focus.

“I can set up an alert on the chatroom, see if he sends out any invites while you two are at the club,” Sam said, clicking and scrolling on the device. “Might give us an idea of who he’s targeting next.”

Dean nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Smart thinkin’.”

Then your fingers inched higher, and his breath hitched. 

Shit.

He felt your nails rake lightly over the denim of his jeans, deliberate this time, your touch lingering, teasing. His jaw clenched, his grip tightening on his coffee mug. He could feel himself hardening, already so on edge from the morning that even this—barely anything—was too much.

But Sam was still talking. Dean forced himself to stay in the conversation. He managed a nod, as he lifted the mug to his lips, and offer a gruff “right”, even as you slid your hand just a little higher, fingertips grazing the seam of his jeans.

He almost choked on his coffee.

"You good?" Sam asked, frowning at him.

Dean cleared his throat, shifting in his seat as you gave him an innocent glance, the corners of your mouth twitching. 

Fucking tease.

"Yeah, yeah. Just, uh—" He swallowed hard, scrambling for an excuse. “Dunno, maybe I’m coming down with something.”

Sam frowned. “You do look kinda flushed.”

Dean exhaled sharply, not daring to look at you. “Yeah, well—”

You squeezed.

Dean nearly doubled over.

"—shit," he muttered under his breath, gripping the edge of the table.

Sam’s frown deepened. “Maybe you should sit this one out.”

“No!” Dean said quickly, maybe too quickly. “No, I’m fine. Probably just something I ate.”

Sam shook his head and chuckled. “I mean, you do live off red meat fried in cheese and products only made with corn syrup.”

You snickered at that, your hand finally retreating. Dean gave you a look—one that said you’re gonna pay for that—but all you did was smile sweetly, fake concern in your eyes.

He was gonna kill you. If you didn’t kill him first.

By the time you and Dean were parked outside the club that night, he was barely holding it together.

The teasing hadn’t stopped at the diner. No, you had spent the entire goddamn day tormenting him.

At the precinct, you had worn that tight-ass FBI pencil skirt, the one that hugged your curves just right, riding up slightly whenever you bent over to grab something. And you’d made sure to bend extra slow, knowing his eyes would be on you.

You hadn’t even touched him, but it didn’t matter. You’d glance over your shoulder with that smug little smirk, bite the tip of your pen and look him dead in the eye as you wrapped your lips around it, and every single time, Dean had to force himself to look away before he made a scene.

And now here you were, alone in the Impala, the dim glow of the streetlights casting a soft glow over your features, that look in your eye and Dean already knew he was screwed.

“Sweetheart,” he half-heartedly warned, his voice already hoarse.

“What?” you asked innocently, reaching for his belt.

Dean groaned, his head thudding against the seat. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

You just grinned. “We’ve got time.”

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but then your hand was slipping inside his jeans, and whatever he was about to say turned into a strangled groan.

Your touch was slow, deliberate, your fingers wrapping around his cock with just the right amount of pressure. You stroked him to full mast, your lips trailing along his jaw, sucking at his pulse point making him twitch in your palm. 

“Fuck,” Dean drawled as you lowered onto your front on the bench seat, your mouth replacing your hand, wrapping around him like a warm hug. Your tongue teased the sensitive tip until his hands were gripping the seat, white-knuckled, and then you took him all the way.

“Holy—,” he choked on his own breath, his hips jerking as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, faster, gagging slightly as you pushed him to the back of your throat.

It was too much. The whole day had been too much. He was right there, so close it hurt—

And then… 

You pulled away, and Dean actually whined.

You sat up and wiped at your mouth, giving him one last smirk as you settled back into your seat like nothing happened.

Dean slammed his head against the seat again, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate you.”

You hummed, pleased. “No, you don’t.”

Of course, you were right. 

The motel door had barely clicked shut before Dean was on you. His hands gripped your hips, lips crashing against yours in a desperate kiss—hot, messy, needy. He was shaking, breath ragged as he pressed you back against the door.

But you weren’t giving in that easy.

You smiled against his lips, teasing, and broke away just as he tried to deepen it. His frustrated groan sent a thrill through you.

"Strip," you ordered, voice honeyed but firm.

His pupils blew wide, his body thrumming with anticipation. He obeyed, yanking off his flannel and t-shirt, kicking off his boots as you stepped back toward the bed, sitting on the edge with an air of complete control.

By the time he was bare, standing in front of you, he was already rock-hard, the tip of his cock flushed deep red, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. He ached; every nerve raw from how you’d spent the entire day torturing him.

You spread your legs slightly, a silent invitation, and he stepped closer, but you placed a firm hand on his thigh, stopping him.

"On your knees," you murmured.

Dean exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw tightening, but he obeyed. He sank to the floor, settling between your parted thighs, hands twitching at his sides, aching to touch—but he knew that wasn’t how this worked. Not tonight.

"You’ve been so good for me today," you praised, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "Taking everything I’ve given you."

"Too much," he ground out, frustration darkening his eyes. "You—fuck, sweetheart, you ruined me today.”

You pouted in faux sympathy and leaned in to kiss him, slow and teasing. Dean chased after it instantly, deepening it with desperate hunger. You could feel the way his lips trembled, the barely contained need in every press of his mouth. He wanted more. Craved it. You smirked against his lips before pulling back, cupping his jaw when he tried to follow.

"You think you can last just a little longer, baby?" You cooed, trailing soft kisses along his cheek, down the sharp cut of his jaw, and then lower, pressing against the thick cord of his throat. His eyes shut tight, a shuddering sigh slipping from his lips at the feel of you.

His cock throbbed painfully, every nerve in his body screaming for relief, but your praise—fuck, your praise—was just as intoxicating as your touch. He needed to hear it as much as he needed to come.

So, he nodded.

"I want you to make me cum, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear before you nipped at his lobe. Dean shivered. "And I promise, I’ll touch you."

A switch flipped.

He was on his feet in seconds, grabbing you, shoving you down onto the mattress with enough force to make you gasp. His movements were rough, desperate as he stripped you bare, tossing your clothes aside like they were in his way—because they were.

And then he saw you.

Laid out beneath him, glistening, perfect, drenched for him in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

"Fuck," he groaned, breath hitching.

"It’s all because of you, Dean," you told him, voice breathy, chest rising and falling faster. He watched your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of your thighs.

"You have no idea how hot you are," you continued, voice unravelling, "how fucking beautiful. Watching you restrain yourself, the desperation to cum—"

Dean growled low in his throat and bit down, sucking a mark into the inside of your thigh. You gasped, back arching off the bed, and the sound shot straight through him, straight to his cock. He groaned, hips rolling into the mattress for any kind of relief, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

When his gaze met yours again, you were smirking. Of course you were. You knew exactly what you were doing. You knew how much he loved this—your taste, your praise, the way your body surrendered to him.

You reached down, cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip. His lashes fluttered, eyes slipping shut at the contact, like he was savouring it. Then he opened them again, gaze burning.

"Make me cum with your perfect mouth, baby."

Dean let out a low, guttural noise and then—he was on you.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate, and he groaned at the taste of you, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs as he spread you wider. He licked into you, drinking you in, his nose pressed against your clit, his stubble scraping the soft skin of your inner thighs.

"Jesus," he rasped, voice muffled against your cunt. "You taste so fucking good."

He couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t stop. He flicked his tongue over your clit, sucking it into his mouth, and the sound you made—needy, wrecked—made his cock twitch against the mattress. His hips rutted down, searching for friction, but it was secondary to this. To you.

"Dean—fuck—" You whimpered, thighs trembling around his head. "Just like that, baby—feels so good."

His groan vibrated against you.

Praises. You knew what they did to him. He ate them up as greedily as he devoured you.

Your fingers fisted in his hair, tugging him closer, and he moaned, tongue working you over with precision, like he was born to do this. The way you came apart in his mouth, the way your body clenched and shuddered beneath him—it was his fucking religion.

"Dean—" Your voice cracked, high and needy.

"You’re so good at this," you gasped, making his cock throb painfully at the praise. “Such a good boy for me, taking care of me first.”

Dean groaned into you, the vibrations sending another shockwave of pleasure through your body. His grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your skin as he redoubled his efforts, desperate to hear more.

“Oh, God. Don’t stop," you whimpered, your breath hitching. “You’re so fucking perfect, so good.”

A deep, wrecked sound tore from his throat, his hips rutting against the mattress as if your words alone could get him off. He was lost in you, in the slick heat of your body, in the way you fell apart just for him.

"Come on, baby," you cooed, threading your fingers through his hair again, tugging just the way you knew he liked. "Make me cum."

Dean damn near growled, his tongue flicking and curling against you with a new sense of urgency, chasing that moment—chasing your pleasure like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

And then—

You shattered, back arching off the mattress as your release hit, pleasure rolling through you in waves. Dean groaned, gripping your thighs tighter as he licked you through it, savouring every pulse, every shudder.

And fuck, watching you like this—watching you lose yourself because of him—he can never get enough of it. Feeling it, the way you pulse against his tongue, knowing he’d done that, he’d unravelled you completely—it nearly wrecked him.

When you finally caught your breath, your fingers slid from his hair, caressing over his jaw, his cheek as Dean climbed up your body, and then you pulled him down, kissing him deep and thorough, humming at the taste of yourself on his tongue.

And fuck, was it hot.

He was so lost in the kiss, he barely had time to process it before you pushed him onto his back.

His head hit the pillows, his chest heaving, every muscle in his body tense with need.

Then you were kissing down his torso, slow and teasing, your lips tracing the ridges of his abs, the dips of his hips. His cock jerked against his stomach, swollen and aching. You dragged your lips along his length, your breath hot against his sensitive skin.

You kept him there, right on the edge, pushing him higher and higher, until every muscle in his body was trembling. His hips bucked slightly, chasing more, but you stayed just out of reach, dragging your tongue along his length, your touch too light, your pace too slow.

His head tipped back, throat exposed as he let out a ragged moan, chest heaving. "Fucking hell, sweetheart—"

You hummed against him, feeling the way he twitched, saw the way he clenched his jaw so tight it might crack.

Then you wrapped your lips around him—soft, slow, but not enough. Never enough.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he groaned, voice hoarse. "Please—"

But you didn’t give in.

You kept him there, right on the edge, holding him in that unbearable place of need.

And Dean realised, for the first time, that he actually couldn’t take it.

His head fell back against the pillows, his hands gripping the sheets so hard they might rip. "Impala."

You froze.

Dean’s entire body was shaking now, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. "Baby, please," he rasped. "I can’t—I need—"

You didn’t make him beg any further.

This time, when you wrapped your lips around him again, you didn’t tease. You didn’t hold back. You took him deep, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him hard, your hand stroking the base in tight, relentless motions.

Dean choked on a curse, his hips jerking as his body locked up beneath you. His fingers twisted into the sheets, shaking, like he was barely holding himself together. "Oh, fuck—"

You didn’t stop. You wanted him to let go. Your tongue flicked over the sensitive tip, your pace never faltering as you worked him with everything you had—your mouth, your hands, all of it, pushing him higher and higher.

Dean let out a strangled groan, his abs clenching, his thighs trembling as his entire body tensed. And then, he shattered.

A guttural moan tore from his throat as pleasure slammed into him, so intense it stole his breath. His release hit him like a freight train, so hard and fast his vision blurred, white-hot euphoria crashing through him in waves. You milked him for all he was worth, working him through it, swallowing every, last drop until his body jerked beneath you, raw and oversensitive.

"Jesus Christ," he rasped, his voice wrecked and hoarse. His head lolled to the side; his arm flung weakly over his face as he tried to catch his breath.

You crawled up beside him, pressing a kiss to his damp skin, running your fingers through his sweat-soaked hair.

"Did so good for me, Dean," you murmured.

He let out a breathless, exhausted laugh, still trying to regain control of his body. "I think you just killed me, sweetheart."

You smiled against his chest. "Worth it?"

Dean groaned, rolling onto his side to pull you flush against him, his grip still firm despite how completely spent he was. "Yeah," he admitted, voice rough. "Fucking worth it."

And as he drifted off, tangled with you in the aftermath, he was already wondering what the hell you’d come up with next time.

Because patience might not have been his strong suit.

But he’d suffer through it for you.

Every single time.

AN: Okay I hope y'all survived that one? 👀😅 i’m sorry i couldn’t resist with some Dean smut for Valentine’s day 😏🥵

If there are any other kinks you guys can think of or would like to see, I'd be happy to take requests! Who doesn't enjoy some kinky times with Dean? 🥵 As always thank you for reading. ❤️

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2 @deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel @piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27 @idontwannabehere7 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith @zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitandsee

[w2soneshots]

Valentine -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: none, just fluff!

summary: you and Harry spend a wholesome valentines day together.

notes: hello my loves! I’m single af so here’s a cute little fic I wrote with my fav British boy to make me feel better😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!✨

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: happy Valentine's Day💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: sneaky

-> y/username: took my chance while you were distracted by the sweets🤗

faithloisak: gorgeous as always

-> y/username: I 💗 U

y/nfanpage21: balloons AND flowers! my girls living the dream🥹🤍

user: ugh, they're disgustingly cute

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was red heart shaped balloons. I looked around for Harry but he was nowhere to be found. I was extremely confused for a second before I remembered that it was valentine's day.

Just a few minutes later Harry walked into our bedroom holding a tray. "Good morning love," he greeted with a bright smile before placing it in my lap. The tray had pancakes covered in fresh fruit, a coffee and a card tucked into the side.

I looked up at him. "Thank you. Happy valentines day baby." Harry smiled then leaned down and we shared a quick kiss.

After eating the food, which was delicious, I opened the card. On the front it read, "you're a bit of a twat, but you're my twat." with read hearts surrounding the letters. "Very funny," I mumbled through laughter.

Inside the card was a different story. He wrote, "to y/n. I love you so much I don't think I could live without you (so you better not leave me!)," I giggled as he sat patiently waiting for me to read. I continued, "we have a special dinner at 7 so be ready to get your hands dirty. Love Harry."

"That was so sweet." I set the card on my nightstand and moved over to hug him. "Okay, wait there. Lemme go get your card from me!" I called as I cheerfully made my way into our wardrobe where I'd hidden everything.

I returned just a minute later with a gift bag. "Ooo, what's this...?" Harry inquired as I plonked myself down next to him and passed him the bag. "Open it and see!"

Harry was quick to fling the tissue paper across the room and look inside. "Ah! This is sick!" He looked at me with the cutest and brightest smile. He pulled out the special addition supreme jumper that he's had his eye on.

It wasn't super cute or wholesome like most valentines gifts but he's impossible to buy for so I didn't have many options.

"How the fuck did you manage to get this?" He asked, "it's been sold out everywhere!" I chuckled as he admired it. "I have my ways..."

A few hours later we decided it'd be fun to go and see the movie we've been wanting to watch in the cinema. We both got dressed into some comfy clothes and headed out.

On our way we stopped off at a shop to get some snacks since they're always extremely overpriced in the cinema and Harry loves a bargain. "Which one do you want? Actually... I'll just get all of 'em," he said as he looked at the selection of sweets. I giggled when he stood up with an excessive amount of them in the basket.

After watching the movie we stopped off for some lunch and then spontaneously decided to go bowling since we walked past the place on our way home.

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

"Beat ya!" I smiled when the final scores registered on the board. "By like... two points," Harry huffed. "Don't be a sore loser baby," I teased with a smirk then leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. "Alright alright," he chuckled, "let's go home."

We walked back to our apartment building, hand in hand. The sun was setting and the air was surprisingly warm for February, in London. I breathed out a content sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder when we finally got into the lift.

"Hungry?" Harry asked me a little while later, while we sat on our couch with a random show playing on the tv, that we definitely weren't paying attention to.

"Mhm," I hummed. He jumped up. "Well, we're makin' pizza!" he said excitedly, "you coming petal?" I cocked my head to the side in surprise. "Oh, Haz. How romantic," I replied with a smile and followed him into the kitchen.

He took his time making the dough while I prepared the sauce and grated the cheese. Just as I was pouring the sauce into a pot I felt a puff of flour cover my shirt.

"Ah! Absolutely not!" I giggled before quickly gathering some in the palm of my hand and blowing it straight into his face. He coughed out a laugh. "Jesus Christ woman!"

He rolled out his pizza into a misshapen circle while I made mine into a cute little heart. We then covered it in tomato sauce, sprinkled on the cheese and added any last toppings.

y/username posted a new story!

After popping our masterpieces into the oven we sat back on the sofa with our drinks of choice and waited patiently for them to finish cooking.

"Mmm... this was one of the best ideas you've ever had," I murmured happily with a mouth full of pizza. "I know. I'm a genius, what can I say." I shook my head as I giggled at his sarcastic cockiness.

"You ready for bed love?" He asked as I yawned. I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes for just a second and before I could even process what was happening I was being lifted into the air, fireman style.

I leaned into my boyfriend's chest and exhaled deeply. He set me down on our bed gently. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a minute to get into bed with you. Good night, I love you and happy Valentine's Day," he whispered with a kiss to my forehead before I drifted off with a soft smile on my lips.

[yeyinde]

surreal/psychological horror + Soap where you agree to house sit for a coworker when they take off for a vacation. but a man shows up and tells you he's supposed to be staying there too.

their son, he shrugs. came home on leave from the military. crashin' here. thought mam might'a said somethin'.

she didn't, but it's fine. and he's harmless. sort of. maybe. you're not sure, really. because he's a little pushy. has a wild temper that ebbs and flows at intervals you can't really keep up with. tempestuous. mercurial. but he makes dinner. he tells you about what he did—not all of it, but some. like why he was sent home as he gestures to the raw scar on his temple.

need some tlc, he quips with a sharp grin. and lucky him because he found the prettiest little doe waitin' fer him.

harmless. a soldier. you can trust that, right?

but he stares at you with a naked hunger, like he wants to eat you alive. but it's gone when you really look. and sometimes, things go missing. your clothes. panties. odd stuff around the house. he hides the newspaper in the trash before you can see it. says the cable is out on the television—Netflix only. no news. he can't—he can't bare to see it. trauma. you wouldn't put him through that, would you, doe? no. you're a good girl. the best.

(at night, asleep. a nightmare; his rough voice in your ear: his good girl. so good for him. so wet—)

and it's just three weeks.

you'll be fine.

(—even though you taste him in the morning. on your lips. your tongue. the back of your throat. salty, bitter. but—there's a pack of salted licorice on the table. fifteen pieces, it reads. maybe you ate them. fuck, got such a pretty mouth, doe. you count each piece. gonna make me cum. fifteen. it's fine. it's fine. there's an ache between your thighs. a tenderness you lie to yourself about as you ignore the stickiness pooling in the gusset of your panties. fuck, doe, ahm gonna—)

absolutely fine.

until your coworker calls after finally getting cell reception. chatting in your ear about her vacation. normal. totally normal. and her son? you tell her. he's been a real help around the house, too (but she should maybe talk to him about sneaking into your bedroom at night because that's so weird, it's so strange; you don't want to wake up to a man staring at you in the dark, or catch the scent of sage on your pillow anymore, the lingering heat—please tell him to stop doing that because when you do, he just gets a weird look on his face like you're the problem, and it's just all so—)

"what son? we don't—we don't have a son—"

the phone line cutting out doesn't really surprise you. and neither does the creak of the floorboards. the solid weight of a chest against your back. the press of metal. a warm, firm palm folding over your throat, anchoring you in place.

a soft, mournful coo:

"ah really didnae want ye tae find out like th', doe. ah thought we had time together." his hand tightens. breath heavy, ragged against the shell of your ear. "but we gotta go, doe. it's time for us tae leave—"

(maybe you should have pushed back harder against letting him hide the paper, or barring you from watching the news. you might have seen a familiar face.)

[hrrtshape]

so let’s talk severance. and shifting. and briefly about loa.

because. i'm confused. this is an open forum for anyone who has ever stared into the abyss and had the abyss stare back, except the abyss is a fluorescent-lit office cubicle and the abyss is also your bedroom, and you are in both places at once, except not really.

quick recap for the uninitiated: in severance, employees undergo a procedure that splits their consciousness in two. the ‘innie’ only exists at work, the ‘outie’ only exists outside of it. neither remembers the other’s life. a clean, surgical divide. a self cleaved in two like some corporate-cooked ouroboros. make sense? no? yes? congratulations, you are alive.

now. shifting. shifting isn’t exactly that. but. isn’t it a little bit that? just a fraction? a sliver? because your dr self isn’t some blank-faced mannequin waiting for cr you to clock in and take over. they’re not a placeholder, not a consciousness-on-pause. they exist. fully. they are you in the same way you are you. and when you shift, you don’t overwrite them. you sync with them. it’s stepping into a river that was already rushing, already frothing, already carrying you forward before you even realized you were ankle-deep.

so no, your dr self doesn’t ‘know’ about shifting. until you shift. unless they were already aware of shifting. but let’s not go full inception just yet. because before that moment, they were just living, unbothered, thriving, possibly drinking a very good martini, possibly about to be hit by a cab. and now, here you are. a new awareness superimposed onto the old. which begs the question: if you can shift into them, could someone shift into you? could cr you be the outie in someone else's severance? is some other version of you sliding into place, right now, reading this, wearing your socks, stealing your morning?

let’s get messier. let's talk homework. let’s talk clones. let’s talk about whether or not i would even know if i had shifted. because. okay. say cr me is the innie. and the shifting me.....the one actively intending, scripting, affirming....is the outie. would my innie know the outie had shifted? would i know? or am i a paper doll, neatly folded into a reality i had no hand in choosing, while some other me slides into the cockpit?

because let’s discuss. people talk about clones. about leaving something behind to keep up appearances. but are they aware? do they feel it? do they have the creeping suspicion that reality is off by a fraction of a millimeter? do they ever get that thing where they walk into a room and forget why they’re there, except it’s their entire life? if shifting is severance, who's the innie and who's the outie? is cr you the outie, with full agency, only vaguely aware of the other? or is cr you the innie, there in a single slice of reality, while your dr self gets the full panoramic view? maybe it’s neither. maybe the whole premise collapses because, unlike severance, the connection is never actually severed. i think that this can be applied to manifestation too. because. if you manifest, say, a different face.....is the you with the old face aware that it worked???

maybe you are both. maybe it depends on where you stand. maybe it depends on where you shift. maybe none of us know what we’re talking about and reality is a mobius strip we’re all just scrambling across in different directions, trying to make it make sense.

anyway. thoughts? feelings? a growing sense of dread?

[himasgod]

Spending Valentine's Day with NRC

HEARTSLABYUL VER

SAVANACLAW VER OCTAVINELLE VER SCARABIA VER POMEFIORE VER IGNIHYDE VER DIASOMNIA VER

SCENARIO: The morning sun shone down on Night Raven College as students prepared for Valentine’s Day. Classes had ended earlier than usual, and the hallways were filled with rumors of chocolates, a few confessions, and secret dates. Despite the general excitement for that day of remembering and sharing, you hadn’t planned anything special for that day. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But he had been acting oddly suspicious since the night before. You’d noticed his furtive glances and failed attempts at hiding smiles whenever you came near. You knew he was up to something.

With Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond, Trey Clover and Riddle Rosehearts

Ace Trappola

The first clue came during breakfast in the dining hall. You were quietly sipping tea when a small red envelope landed in front of you. You looked up to meet Ace’s cheeky grin.

“Hey, don’t get nervous or anything! It’s just a little invitation. Read it when you have time.”

He turned around with his hands in his pockets before you could answer. You unfolded the envelope and read the message written in his unmistakable handwriting:

"I'll be waiting for you at the Heartslabyul labyrinth at noon. Don't miss it, Pref"

Your heart skipped a beat, while you say goodbye to Grim and Deuce to go get ready for what seemed like a date on Valentine's Day.

When you arrived at the labyrinth, the sound of the wind through the leaves was the only thing that accompanied you. You walked along the paths until you reached a cleared area where Ace was waiting for you. He had placed a small table with a white tablecloth, a couple of chairs and a tray of cupcakes decorated with hearts.

"There you are, Pref! I knew you wouldn't resist my charm."

"Ace… Is this all yours?"

"Of course! Well, Trey helped me with the cupcakes… and Riddle approved the use of the labyrinth… but the idea was mine."

He scratched the back of his neck, visibly proud and nervous at the same time.

“I knew Valentine’s Day gifts had to be special. And you deserve something different. Something fun.”

You sat down as Ace poured tea. He kept talking, making jokes and comments to keep the mood light.

You started playing card games where Ace always won due to his cheating. Every now and then he would surprise you with some magic trick, making cards appear where there weren't any.

Or for example, leaning towards you, towards your ear with a mocking smile while his hand caressed your neck until it went up to your ear and whispered "You chose the Ace of Hearts" while he pulled out from behind your ear the card you chose from his deck.

But, in a moment of silence, he looked down at the tablecloth.

“You know, I’m not very good with serious stuff … but this Valentine’s Day is special because you’re here. And… well, I just want you to know that.”

The blush on his cheeks spoke for itself. And before you could respond, he stood up suddenly.

“Oh wait, I almost forgot the best part!”

Ace pulled out a small box wrapped in red paper and handed it to you with a nervous smile. Inside was a simple pendant with a small heart-shaped figure.

“It’s not much, but… I hope you like it.”

You stood up and hugged him without a second thought. Ace froze for a second before returning the hug with a smile.

"Hey, don't make me get all sentimental! But… thanks."

Deuce Spade

Deuce Spade had been visibly nervous all week, something you hadn’t been able to miss. Although he was normally clumsy with his words, his clumsiness had reached a new level recently.

It was mid-morning when you received a message on your door: “Meet me in the garden after class. There’s something important I want to tell you. —Deuce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew Deuce well enough to know that this had taken a lot of courage on his part.

When you arrived at the garden, you were met by an unexpectedly adorable scene. Deuce was there, dressed in his usual uniform, though his nervous movements betrayed his intention to remain calm. He had placed a blanket on the ground with a small picnic basket beside him.

“Oh, you’re here!” he said, quickly standing up. “It’s not a big deal, but I wanted to do something special for you.”

You sat next to him on the blanket, noticing how his hands shook slightly as he poured the tea.

“I made some sandwiches. Trey gave me some tips… I’m not sure how they came out though.”

You tried one of the sandwiches he’d made, and to your surprise, it was delicious.

“They’re great, Deuce!”

“Really?” His eyes lit up with a flash of pride. He looked like a nervous puppy trying to get things right, and when you told him that, his eyes lit up. “That’s a relief.”

After a few minutes of light chit-chat, Deuce leaned forward, his cheeks flushed with tension.

“There’s something I’ve wanted to say for a long time. You’re very important to me. Every time I’m with you, I feel like I can be better, like I can become someone worthy of your time.”

His words were clumsy, but there was such a deep sincerity in his voice that you couldn’t help but smile.

“Deuce… that’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He looked up, a mix of relief and happiness in his expression.

“So, would you agree to be my date for this Valentine’s Day?”

Without saying a word, you walked over and hugged him. Deuce hugged you back tightly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“Thank you! I promise to do everything I can to make you happy.”

Cater Diamond

Pink and red decorations adorned the hallways, and students were everywhere passing by, handing out cards and chocolates of friendship and love. However, you knew Cater Diamond had something special planned. He had always been the life of the party, the first to capture the most memorable moments for Magicam, and today would be no different.

During lunch, you received a notification on your Magicam. A story from Cater had appeared on your feed: a selfie of him smiling widely with the message: “Make sure y'all don’t miss the Valentine’s surprise. Especially you, Prefect ❤.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Knowing Cater, you knew there was something big coming.

Towards the end of the day, the cafeteria was transformed into the center of attention. A crowd had gathered around the entrance, where bright lights and Valentine-themed decorations had been set up. At the center of it all, Cater waited, dressed in a red and white outfit that matched the theme.

“There you are!” he exclaimed upon seeing you. The crowd moved aside to let you through.

“Stay here a second,” Cater said, as he cast a small spell. A shower of heart-shaped confetti appeared above you, illuminated by dancing lights. It was the kind of scene Cater adored: flashy, cheerful, and full of life.

“This is all for you,” he said, with a soft, sincere smile that he rarely showed in public. “I’m always looking for ways to make things memorable, but you make every day special just by being here.”

You felt a warmth in your chest. Cater could seem shallow at times, always concerned with his image, but you knew there was so much more to him.

“Will you be my date for this Valentine’s Day?” —he asked, handing you a small box wrapped with a gold bow.

You opened the box to find a collage of all the photos you had together. Your eyes almost filled with tears.

"Cater… it's beautiful."

He quickly took a selfie of the two of you, not leaving the opportunity to photograph each and every moment and any reaction of yours to treasure it later.

"I can't let this moment pass. But it's just for us," he said as he saved the photo in a private album.

He hugged you tightly, and in that moment, the whole world disappeared. It was just the two of you, sharing an unforgettable Valentine's Day.

Riddle Rosehearts

Everyone knew that Riddle Rosehearts, the strict and meticulous housewarden, had been acting a bit strange all week. For someone so rule-bound, acting nervous was a rare occurrence.

You had received a note slipped under your door early that morning. Riddle’s neat, careful handwriting invited you to meet him in the gardens of the labyrinth, just before sunset.

The sun was beginning to set as you arrived at the meeting point. The red and white flowers of Heartslabyul had been carefully arranged in perfect patterns along the path. The golden light of the setting sun gave an almost magical air to the place.

Riddle was waiting for you, dressed in his impeccable Heartslabyul Dorm uniform. His bearing was straight and formal, but his eyes betrayed a certain nervousness.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, his cheeks flushed. “There is something I want to share with you.”

He led you down a path that led to a small gazebo hidden in the heart of the labyrinth. There was a table perfectly set for tea, with a selection of your favorite sweets. And strawberry cake. Thanks Trey. Everything was arranged according to the rules of the Heartslabyul, but with a personal touch that only someone like Riddle could achieve.

“I wanted to prepare this for you,” he said, adjusting the collar of his uniform. “I know I’m not always easy to deal with. Sometimes I’m too strict, and it’s hard for me to express what I feel. But… today I want to do it right.”

He paused, looking into your eyes with a serious expression.

“Since you came into my life, you’ve brought a light I didn’t know I needed. You help me see beyond the rules and become a better person. That’s why I want to ask you… to be my partner on this special day.”

Your heart was pounding. The sincerity in his words and the way he had prepared everything took your breath away.

“Riddle, of course I do!”

A genuine smile spread across his face. It was a rare expression on him, but also one of the most beautiful you had ever seen.

Trey Clover

Trey Clover had spent the morning in the kitchen, baking a batch of his famous cakes and pies for the day's celebration. The smells of vanilla, chocolate, and strawberries filled the air, and students lined up to try a bite of his creations.

Trey had something else in mind, though. He'd been waiting for this moment for weeks, planning every detail carefully.

Just after lunch, you found a small card slipped into your dessert tray. Trey's familiar handwriting invited you to join him at the greenhouse at dusk.

When you arrived at the location, the greenhouse was illuminated by soft lights hanging between the plants. On a table was a tray with a selection of sweets decorated with hearts and flowers, all handmade by Trey.

Trey was waiting for you, dressed in his kitchen apron, but with a new shirt underneath. His soft, warm smile greeted you immediately.

“I knew I’d be busy baking for everyone today, but I wanted to make sure you had something special just for you,” he said, scratching the back of his head with a mix of shyness and pride.

You sat down next to him as he poured a cup of hot tea and placed the desserts in front of you. There were candied violets and a strawberry shortcake topped with whipped cream, decorated with your name written in chocolate.

“You know,” Trey began, his voice more serious than usual. “I’ve always been used to taking care of others. Sometimes it’s hard for me to ask for something for myself. But you… you make me want to be more open. Not just with my feelings, but with my dreams as well.”

He took your hand gently.

“What I want today, and always, is for you to stay by my side. Would you agree to be my partner this Valentine’s Day?”

Your response was immediate, full of emotion.

“Of course I do, Trey.”

Her smile grew wider, and in that moment, Trey Clover, always the caretaker of others, finally received the love he deserved as well.

(Hey everyone, I hope you didn't miss me too much on my hiatus! I'm feeling a little better, so I found the energy to write this, although a little lazy! I don't think I've ever posted about twst before, but it's something that's been my hyperfixation since 2023 when the fandom was very dead LOL, I'm so happy that it's revived, that I felt like posting something that's far from Genshin, which is what I usually post!)

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Punish me.

Pairing: Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 5853

Summary: What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of Y/N, legal unspecified age gap, power imbalance, dom!Joel / sub!reader, degradation, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), initially dub-con but reader is very into it, risk of being caught, a little chocking if you squint, cream pie, squirting, reader has no description other than the clothes she is wearing, manipulation, slurs, pet names, reader calls Joel "Sir". This Joel is low-key inspired by Don Draper from Mad Men and the whole thing was also low-key inspired by Secretary (2002). Let me know if I forgot something important, I will add it right away. A/N: Written for Never Have I Ever challenge hosted by the lovely @yxtkiwiyxt , this was my prompt and I had so much fun working on it! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to join! 🥰 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for being the most precious beta and @joelmillerisapunk for being the best support I could ask for and for letting me yap about it for a month and half lol I love you so much 🥹❤️ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any. Thanks to anyone who will read! masterlist | Joel Miller masterlist

“Mr Miller wants to see you in his office at 3” When Pam called you to say that a shiver ran down your spine.

Your last client was the owner of a large brewing company, a self-centered rich asshole that you couldn’t stomach in any way.

He had been pressing you for weeks for you to come up with the most sexist and stupidest ad campaign ever, all while you were trying to present him with new ideas that didn't necessarily include 10 women in bikinis at the feet of one man or other such things that had been done 200 times already .

You hated the guy with every fiber of your being and you told him exactly what you were thinking about him when he called you a prude and argued that he could show you what a real man was.

Seeing his sleezy smile as he winked at you and told you that you needed to fuck more was your last straw.

You were glad to be rid of him but you knew well that your boss would not have the same opinion. 

Right out of college what you wanted was to learn the profession as soon as possible, and you wanted to learn it from the best in the business. 

Joel Miller owned the most famous advertising agency in town, so you did everything to get an internship there.

You understood why he was so successful from day one.

__________________________________

Pam was sitting at her desk as usual when you walked in. 

Her desk was a few feet from the door of Mr. Miller's office. 

A large, black, solid wooden door with a fine frame, one of those that seemed to lead to the rooms forbidden to poor commoners. 

She just looked up from the computer screen to tell you to come in, Mr. Miller was waiting for you, and then she was back to work.

Pam was a woman in her 60s, blond hair perpetually pulled back in an elegant bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, cachemire sweaters in all pastel colors, silk blouses and matching skirts.

She looked very neat, austere, you could swear you never saw her smile but heck, she was really good at her job and had been managing Mr. Miller's impossible schedule for many years.

You knocked on the door feeling your heart in your throat, thinking you were one step away from being fired.

Joel's voice bounced through the door, heavy and raspy, "come in.”

You entered trying to maintain a composure.

“Good morning, Mr Miller, you wanted to see me?” 

He put down the papers he was perusing on the desk and looked up at you.

“Oh, it's you,” he said in a very calm voice. “The one who made me lose a lot of money.”

“I...I'm sorry but the guy was too much of an asshole for me to take it,” you spat out.

You knew Joel appreciated people who were standing their ground.

“Excuse me, should I care? You just made a thousand dollar check disappear.” 

The silence that enveloped the room was unreal.

You stood in front of his stately mahogany desk, trying to keep your back straight and your shoulders high.

Of course, he didn’t care, he was an asshole too.

________________________________

He had conducted the interviews personally, without delegating it to his subordinates.

He hired you himself, without missing the opportunity to intimidate you in the meantime.

The first day you had come in you were shy, awkward, afraid of your own shadow. 

How did you think you could deliver a presentation in front of a client if you looked like a frightened little bird that had just fallen out of the nest?

Joel said he took a risk hiring you, the least you could do was to show him how much you really wanted the job.

Eventually you learned to fight. 

It hadn't been pleasant or even easy, Joel wouldn't let you get away with anything, criticized your every idea, sometimes blatantly mocked you. 

He had pushed you to work harder than you would have imagined and you were eager to let him know that you were worth something, that you were not just an honors graduate but could translate your knowledge into the practical field.

You also owed it to yourself. 

Your parents supported you but had always told you that you were not the type to work in advertising.

Too kind, too quiet, too sweet. 

“Honey, are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do some other job?” your mother always asked you. 

No, you didn't want to do anything else. And you were going to prove it to everybody.

You became a sucker for Joel’s attention in no time.

Whatever type he wanted to give to you. 

As you progressed and learned, he became gentler, too much so at times. 

Grazing your knee under the table at meetings, touching your waist way too much as you walked down the hallways talking about some projects, playfully slapping your ass once, after successfully signing your first contract with a client.

It was becoming a relationship that other colleagues didn't have to notice.

He was your mentor, your inspiration, the person who had taken you under his wing and taught you to fly.

Along with the desire to do well, however, something else grew in you over time.

Arousal, desire, need. 

It lingered in the air while you were trying to flap your wings and stay aloft.

_______________________________

“Furthermore…” his voice dropped and deepened, “we don’t tolerate this kind of language here.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the clear change in his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. 

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other appropriate word to describe that person” you chirped.

You didn’t drop the asshole just to have this, you really hated the man with all you had, this was just a pleasant collateral damage. 

Joel being angry at you. 

Joel who wanted to punish you.

He ran a hand over his mustache, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

You felt your clit throb in anticipation.

He stood up from his chair, he was imposing, broad shoulders and awe-inspiring piercing eyes.

“Let me explain it to you properly. I don't care if he didn't meet your moral dictates, I don't give a damn if he was so obnoxious that he made you sick to your stomach, okay?” his voice was a thin, cold, steady blade.

“Yes, Mr. Miller” you swallowed, without breaking eye contact. “You acted like a whiny child,” he stated. “ And you made me lose a ton of money” 

His heavy step creaked faintly on the fine parquet floor. He was towering over you.

“Yeah, you said that already,” you rolled your eyes.

You would have sworn you were hearing Joel’s blood simmering in his veins and that was exactly what you wanted. 

“Do you think criminal lawyers like to defend murderers? Do you think they like their clients?” 

“No,” you muttered 

“Yeah, they don’t like them but they do it anyway because it's their job.” 

That was a little extreme example but he did make a point.

You were torn. 

Disappointing your mentor was the last thing you wanted but seeing him like that, ready to give  you a lesson was making you horny like nothing else. 

You craved it. 

“Do you know what they used to do to wayward children like you?” 

You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he had gotten.

“Yeah.” 

His eyes looked like onyx stones.

“Say it.” “They spanked them,” you finally let out.

“Yeah. You’re goddamn right, darling. They spanked them.” His words were a sheet of ice on which you couldn't wait to slide.

“Bend over the desk.” 

“No,” you tried to argue.

“I. Said. Bend.” He ordered, punctuating every word.

You raised an eyebrow, glaring at him, but finally gave in. 

You approached the desk, rested your elbows on it and jostled your ass out, poised on your heels. 

He positioned himself behind you, you turned to look at him, and he immediately hissed, 

"Eyes to the wall, missy." 

You huffed, returning your gaze to the large painting hanging behind the desk. 

His hands slid down your legs. 

It was the first time he touched you, the first time you felt his strong grip on your body, the first time his warmth penetrated your flesh.

“You really disappointed me today.” His voice was calm, low, but full of disgruntlement.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. 

“It's not enough,”

His hands had reached the hem of your skirt, raising it dangerously, pulling it up, exposing the edge of your thigh-high stockings and your panties. 

“Do you still think you deserve a place in this agency?” 

Panic welled up inside you, you felt your cheeks on fire and your hands trembling on the wood of the desk. 

You didn't want to lose everything you had worked for. 

Joel wouldn't sign any reference letters for you, you wouldn't get a job at any other agency, and your career would be over before it even started.

You remained stubbornly silent, trying not to be seen as weak, until he blurted out, 

“answer me.”

“Yes. I made a mistake.”

“You’re goddamn right, honey,” he replied wryly.”How will you fix this?”

That honey sounded like a mockery. Like you were still too soft to do the job and be successful at it. 

You hated it and it made your pussy throb at the same time.

“I will find a way, Mr. Miller.”

“We’ll see” he retorted “But you still deserve punishment, don't you think?”

“Yes,” you breathed reluctantly.

You didn’t like to admit that but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You wanted it too much. 

You wanted him too much.

You didn’t hear him fumbling with his pants, no zippers coming undone, no buttons slipping through the buttonhole.

You just felt his breath fanning over your back and his hand gripping at your hips.

You felt his gaze seeping into your flesh. 

You would have liked to turn around, tell him to get it over with and fuck you, but you didn’t. 

You stood still in your turn, feeling the tension bubbling in your chest while he seemed so calm and collected.

He was taking his time with you.

You sighed, just before you felt the air shift behind you and his hand landed deafly on your ass.

You gasped. 

Another slap had hit you. 

Harder than before.

Pain spread all over your butt, tingling, until it turned into a destabilizing pleasure. 

You had never done anything like that before and as disconcerting as it was to admit it, you liked it. 

You liked it like crazy.

You felt a slick of arousal wetting your panties while you moaned.

“Do you want some more?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. You gotta use your word, I feel like I taught you that, right?” He tutted. 

“Yes.” You whispered “please” 

Instead of continuing, he walked over to the bar cabinet, poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, sat back down on his leather chair and looked you in the eyes.  

“Get out of here.”

You stood there watching him, hunched over his desk, wood still pressing on your clothed tits, feeling like you were in a fever dream. 

Had it really happened? 

The heat still throbbing on your ass cheek told you it had.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, your darting gaze metaphorically stabbing him. 

He had humiliated you. 

How had you let this happen? And most of all, why did you want more?

You left without looking back.

Pam wasn't at the desk when you left, you slipped out as quickly as possible, with one fixed thought in mind. 

______________

The next few days he ignored you. He started following another girl who had just arrived and he was behaving the way he had with you. 

Jealousy had never been a vice of yours. Never. But seeing him chuckle at her jokes, praise her for her efforts, smile at her, start calling her by her name like he had done with you made you furious.

It squeezed your chest in a cruel fist.

You had worked on the presentation for a market-leading make-up client, and fortunately for you, the CEO had been enthusiastic about your ideas.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was hurting you but despite the persistence with which you tried, you grew so hungry for him that all you were thinking about was finding a way to make him furious again. 

To get punished again. You hated having fallen for his game, but by now you were a fish seeking oxygen in the mesh of the fishing net.

You were trying to get his attention in every way without success.

At the peak of your desperation, you had passed an embarrassing number of times in front of his office in the hope that he would come out.

You kept meeting only Pam bringing coffee, folders or Joel's personal correspondence.

After a week she no longer seemed surprised to find you there, there was a kind of understanding in her gaze, a muted feminine solidarity, an ill-concealed displeasure.

“Honey, why do you do this to yourself?” she seemed to say.

You didn’t care. Your pussy didn’t care either.

______________

One day, when you saw Pam pass in the hallways during the lunch break, you decided to do something.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You had gotten up deliberately exclaiming, “Oh, I really need a coffee!” And you had pretended to head for the common room. At last you had turned the opposite corner and snuck into the hallway that led to Joel's office. You had to hurry.

You slipped inside in an instant and found yourself in front of the imposing door that led to the office of the object of your desires.

He was talking to someone on the phone, you could clearly hear his voice but none in response.

When he finished, you opened the door and entered, full of doubts and fears but the same moved by a disruptive urge you couldn't say no to.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joel's rough voice greeted you. “I came to see my mentor,” you whispered. ”And to tell him that tomorrow we will sign the contract with the make-up company.”

You smiled, waiting for his reaction.

He demolished you immediately in response, 

“So? What do you want, a golden star? A kiss on the forehead?”

He raised an eyebrow mockingly staring at you.

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” you countered in a voice far too resentful for your taste.

You were turning on your heels to leave when you heard his voice say, 

“What is the real reason you are here?”

You turned again and looked at him. 

Elbows rested on the desk, the sleeves of the white shirt he wore rolled up to leave his muscular forearms exposed, rolling the platinum ring he wore on his middle finger around, his straight shoulders wrapped in the fabric that seemed to contain his broadness with difficulty, the first few buttons left open giving you a glimpse of a few freckles on his bronze chest. 

The posture of the boss judging you, sitting comfortably in his leather chair, a smirk plastered on his face, a defiant expression in his eyes. 

He was both sultry and irritating. 

You wanted to slap him but also take off your panties and sit on his cock. 

To be honest, you wanted to do both at the same time.

“You walked in here without asking Pam,” he noted amusedly, looking at you as if he could read your mind “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with a button on your shirt. “Just my job”

“I think you were trying to get on my nerves,” he suggested

You scoffed “You think you’re the center of my universe?”

“You’re the one in my office right now. Say what you want. Or leave. But I think you want to stay, am I right? Your pussy wants it.” 

You were speechless, totally caught off guard. 

“What do you need, darling?” He urged you, walking towards you. 

He raised a hand reaching for your cheek, brushing it with his thumb. 

His voice softened slightly, the knot in your stomach tightened. 

It felt manipulative. 

But also arousing when he gently pulled your lower lip open and grazed it with the pads of his fingers. 

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. 

His gaze was authoritative, demanding but also sweet, like he was trying to get you convinced that he was a good guy, just eager to give you something you wanted so much that you showed up uninvited to his office. 

“Punish me,” you breathed as he was sliding his fingers down your neck. 

“See? It wasn’t so difficult. This was all I needed to know,” he chuckled softly, right after grabbing you by the waist, gentleness instantly out of the menu, pulling up your skirt to expose your ass. 

“You want me to spank you again, am I right?” 

Your voice came out husky and broken, you only managed to mumble a “yes”, the most desperate yes you’ve ever said in your life. 

“That's what I was thinking,” he groaned

His hands were roaming your thighs “Hold-ups. Of course. You’re the target for that Agent Provocateur campaign we launched last month, aren't you?”

You would have laughed if you could but you felt his fingers graze the wet, sticky stain spreading across your panties and you gasped instead. 

And then his hand crushed on your ass cheek, his ring marked your skin, pain spreading across your skin, immediately replaced by an unbearable heat. 

It made you feel alive. 

You had his attention again.

One, two, three spanks burned your flesh, you could clearly feel a trickle of pleasure flowing out of you.

“How dare you come into my office just to provoke me? Don’t you know who I am? Huh, little slut?” 

“Yes,” you muttered. “yes Mr Miller but…” 

You had started this, you would have liked to say. 

You were the one flirting first. 

You were the one leading me to want you, this, always. 

Another slap hit you and you said nothing instead. You just moaned. 

A knock on the door stopped Joel in his tracks.

He froze with his hand high up in the air. 

“Who is it?” He asked nervously. 

He still held you tightly by the waist, you tried to wriggle free from his grip without success.

“It’s Pam,” her voice came muffled from outside the door. 

“Fuck” you whispered, you instantly looked around in panic for a place to hide. 

Not the bookcase, or the bar cabinet or the nice leather couch and armchair that were placed in front of it.

There was only one option.

“Get off of me,” you hissed “now!” 

Joel let go of you and you quickly cowered under the desk.

He sat down and spread his legs just enough to give you room as he moved his chair as close to the edge as he could.

“Come in” he ordered, trying to regain his composure. 

Pam cracked the door open and entered the office. 

You couldn’t see her but you could hear her light footsteps approaching the desk and her voice saying “I brought Mrs. Jones’ presentation that you wanted to review, Mr. Miller” 

“Oh. Thanks Pam” 

You could clearly hear the underlying nervousness in Joel’s voice and it was starting to make you laugh. 

You decided that since he was playing dirty you would do the same.

Your hand slowly moved up his pants, grazing his ankle, then his shin, up his thigh, until it reached his crotch.

Joel was desperately trying to hide his squirming as he examined the work of his new protégé. The one he was trying to replace you with.

It was delicious to feel him like that, helpless, harmless for once, totally at your mercy as you moved your hand up and down over his clothed cock that was desperately straining against the zipper. 

Pam didn't move, waiting for him to finish evaluating the project, only her regular breathing told you of her presence.

You liked the risk, the thrill of being discovered that ran under your skin. 

You could do more. 

Slowly, your fingers closed on the metal tag of Joel’s zipper. 

You pulled it down, while Joel tried to hide the noise with a cough. 

You pushed aside the flaps of his pants, pulling down his boxers to free his cock. He was hard in front of you. 

Thick, pink and darker at the tip, pulsing veins ran along the shaft that was slightly curved to the right.

Little drops of pre cum dripped onto his skin, making your mouth water. 

It was perfect and you had to have it. Right there and then.

You kitten-licked the underside where a white pearly bead was sliding, catching it with your tongue. 

Joel squirmed visibly on his chair, you couldn’t see it but you imagined his eyebrows shutting up and his lips twisting. 

You smiled in the heavy and heated air under the desk.

You hoped Pam would go away, but at the same time you were intrigued by putting Joel through the wringer without him being able to make any fumbling movements to stop you.

You held his cock in your hand, it throbbed in your palm, and a musky smell filled your nostrils. The smell of sex. 

You didn’t resist and licked again, more greedily, its flavor spread over your tongue. 

It was driving you crazy.

You felt his whole body stiffen as he sent his secretary away 

“That's all for now Pam, thank you. Tell the team to refine the graphics and report to Ms. Jones that the idea may work but the slogan is a bit weak, I want more ideas for next week ”

He had tried to maintain a professional tone, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and you could only be mischievously proud of that.

As soon as Pam came out he yanked up his pants and wrapped a hand around your wrist dragging you out of your hiding place. 

“You dirty slut, what were you trying to do?" he rattled off. 

He had you standing up and trapped you against his chest, his half-dressed erection pressing hard against your ass.

His hand closed on your wrist hurt but you didn't care, you liked being manhandled like that.

You weren’t even intimidated anymore, just feral. 

Unhinged, eager, completely drunk on him.

“I thought you liked some action under the desk, Mr Miller” you replied, sneering without shame. 

“Oh you’re so thoughtful, aren’t you?” He barked, shoving you on the desk again.

“Yes I am.” You have never been so cheeky before, you were quite surprised and proud of yourself.

“No, you aren’t, darling”

With that, he pushed you onto the desk, your breasts pressed against the perfectly polished wood and his hands running to your skirt to hastily tug it down. 

It was like Deja vu.

The best type of.

He moved to lock the door.

“Hands on the desk, darling. And you better not take them out of there” 

He took off his tie, placed it on the desk and walked over.

His authoritative voice sent a rush of arousal straight to your pussy. 

He pulled down your panties, making you walk out of them and throwing them on the floor.

His hand grazed your folds, lightly at first and then he covered your whole sex and squeezed, sending a rush of adrenaline into your system 

“First time doing it? Getting fucked by your boss? Mh?”

“Yes” you breathed “I’ve never done anything like this before”

”You think you earned it?” 

“Yes”

He had withdrawn his hand from your pussy and placed both of them on your thighs.

“Bold of you. And I've already told you, you have to learn to speak properly. Yes, what?” His hands were gripping on your flesh so hard you were sure you'd end up with bruises.

“Yes, please” you whispered. “You think you deserve me giving attention to your pussy, huh?” 

His voice was low and raspy, almost like a subdued roar.

“Yes, please. Sir.” You added, emphasizing this last word.

“That's the way I like it, you're starting to learn. Turn around” You got up from the desk and he pushed you to sit on the edge, your bare pussy leaking on the surface. 

He slipped his hands down your thighs, over your bottom, up your back, stopping at the sides of your breasts. His thumbs rubbed your nipples through your shirt and lacy bra while he held you trapped between his body and the desk, standing between your open legs.

Your naked pussy throbbed against his pants, you could feel it dripping over the fabric, making a mess. He slipped his hand between the two of you, touching your folds with the pads of his fingers, up and down gathering more and more of your arousal and spreading it all over on your lips and clit. You tried hard to stifle your moans but a low husky one escaped your lips as you were rocking your hips against his hand.

“Look what I’m doing to your pussy.” He ordered while he started flicking your bundle of nerves. You looked down at his hand moving obscenely over your pussy, two of his thick fingers sliding inside you, his ring right out that was getting wet with you. You gasped loudly at the sensation when he curled them up just right, reaching for your special spot. “Be quiet” he had warned you off “either that or I’ll stop immediately” “No!” You wailed. “No, what?” He barked grasping your neck with his free hand 

You looked at yourself in his pitch black eyes, losing yourself in that deep darkness.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “No, please” you were quick to correct yourself “That’s right” his hand lightly squeezed your pulse point. “Undo my shirt, now” Your fingers were moving awkwardly over the buttons, trying to unfasten them while he continued to move his fingers inside you.

His skin, unveiled before your eyes, was almost too much to bear: golden and dotted with freckles that you wanted to lick one by one.

He smelled like whiskey and mint and a distinctive something that was only his, filling your nostrils, awakening every molecule of that secret part of you that was a slave for him.

Once you reached the last one you were so worked up you were almost on your brink, Joel noticed that right away and stopped, taking away his hand from your pussy. You whined in disappointment and he retorted 

“You don’t get to complain, darling” accompanying his words with a slap on your right tit “we clear?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry” you breathed, feeling the pain spread all over your chest.

A rush of adrenaline made you quiver against his hot body.

He put his wet fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up, darling” And you did, you thoroughly swirled your tongue all over them, licking till the last drop, going feral for the taste of you and the way he pushed them through your lips, up to his knuckles.

“Good job”

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He shifted, moving you in front of him.

“Kneel. Show me how sorry you are for complaining” You kneeled right away, moving your hand over his pants, stroking the underline of his cock. “What do you want?” “Your cock” you purred “Ask nicely” he told you, totally unfazed by your attempt to bribe him

“Can I please pull your cock out, sir?” You would have looked up to anyone, but the power it exerted over you at that point was unmanageable and devoured you.

His onyx eyes were fixed on you, pinning you down to the ground, like he was holding your entire being in his fist. 

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Go ahead”

You hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You took his shaft back into your hand, licking the tip first, coating it in your saliva, until it was glistening and pulsing right before your eyes again.

You slid it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, savoring his musky flavor, licking him like a lollipop, like the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever had.

“That’s what a good girl does,” he praised you “she fills her pretty mouth with a nice cock, just like that” You relaxed your jaw to take all that you could of him in your mouth.

His fingers reached for the back of your head, holding you possessively 

“Go on, miss, I know you want it, don’t you? You would like my cum on your tongue, huh?” You hummed against his shaft, even more eager for him.

You tried to brush your fingers on your clit, searching for some relief from the throbbing heated mess you felt between your thighs but he scolded you 

“Nuh huh, girl, don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I say it” You whined, reluctantly moving your hand away.

You kept sucking on his cock, devouring every inch of him with purpose, messy and sloppy, thin trades of your saliva running onto his length to his balls. 

You swirled on the tip before sliding down to them and taking one in your mouth, greedily sucking on it. 

He was granite that crumbled slightly at your every touch, trying to hold back the grunts that vibrated in his throat, trying not to close his eyes so as not to get lost in every lap of your tongue. He tried not to give you any satisfaction but at the same time his body betrayed him, letting slip how much he wanted all of that. And you. 

At his brink, he stopped you, manhandling you back on the desk, tearing away your shirt making every single button pop out and yanking at your bra to expose your nipples. 

His lips closed on one of your hard rock buds and sucked it avidly. You were a whimpering mess, whining under your breath “please sir, fuck me” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth, running a finger through your folds. 

“Look at you, darling, so hungry for my cock your pussy is weeping,  your body is shaking…” 

With one hand he yanked the papers off the desk, a shower of paper clips followed the sheets to the floor along with a stapler and the golden tag with his name engraved on it.

“Lie down” he hissed 

You lay on the desk, obscenely open and throbbing for him, a raw uncontrollable heat flowing through your body. 

“Please” you cried. 

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, holding you tightly by your ankles.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he said tapping his cock on your folds and sliding it through them, before starting to enter you agonizingly slow. 

“Mmm feel how good she’s stretching, darling, your tight little pussy’s all full of me” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Say: thank you, sir” 

“Thank you, sir” 

It was all inside you and your pussy was swallowing it hungrily.

He started thrusting into a steady rhythm, slowly at first, like tidal waves hitting you, ripples on a blank shore caressing your special spot, and then stronger, faster, like thunderstorm on the ocean, high dangerous waves making you see stars. 

His huge cock shifting and brushing against your drenched walls, sinking into you again and again. 

Your moans bounced around the room like an echo, mixing with squelching sounds of his dick slamming into you, making you his. 

“Yes, baby, you’re doing so good for me” he whispered “come here”. 

He grabbed you and held you close to his chest, making your legs parting some more, reaching for another angle that made you feel him even deeper. 

His moustache brushed along your jawline, lowering on your neck, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

“Look at you, dripping on my desk,” he muttered softly, his voice reverberating on your skin. 

The impossible pace became too much to bear when his hand moved from your hips to your clit, his thumb brushing on it. 

He looked you in the eyes, feral and assertively “you want to come, huh? Make a mess all over my cock?” 

“Yes.” You cried, seeing the wreck that you were reflecting in his deep brown eyes “yes, please sir I need it” 

“Then come, baby” he said, increasing the pressure on your clit and pushing into you like it was a matter of life or death. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

You broke the dams that still kept you anchored to reality and flooded his cock, squirting all over his desk, a complete and utter disaster disheveled and exhausted. 

The fine wood of his desk was probably ruined forever but he didn't seem to care in the slightest, he pumped into you, grabbing your neck and hair until he spurted all of him into your cunt. 

You felt it warm and sticky, painting your walls, making you full like you’ve never been before. 

He slipped out a moment later, caressing your cheeks and praising you.

You got up from his desk and clung to his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, tilting your head as you felt his tongue play with yours.

“Thank you” you murmured against his lips, smiling softly “And by the way, I’m on the pill”

“I know. I saw you take it the other day in the conference room before the meeting started” he said, while adjusting his trousers and taking a clean shirt from a desk drawer.

“Get out of here, naughty girl” 

“Well, you destroyed my blouse…” you said, picking up the garment from the floor.

“Here, take mine” 

You put on his shirt, too big for you, trying to tuck it under your skirt so it was less noticeable how long it was. He helped you by rolling up your sleeves, barely touching your skin, but enough to make you feel a shiver down your spine. 

“mmm sexy,” he said when he stopped to look at you.

“Let’s try not to make this a habit” he smirked, giving you another playful slap on your ass cheek “We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Why not?” You winked right before going out the door. 

You could smell him on you and it drove you crazy. You already knew that you would use his shirt to sleep that very night and for many nights to come.

Once outside the door, Pam looked at you over her glasses, raised an eyebrow, and for the first time you saw a little smile curve her lips.

tag list for this one: @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @gothcsz @harriedandharassed

archive tag: @pedrostories Let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[nastybuckybarnes]

Homemade Lunch

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

Warnings: Angst, Language, Arguments, sad feelings, fluff,

Word Count: idk but she aint too too long

A/n: based on a tiktok i saw but cannot for the life of me find to link. enjoy! <3

~*~

You huff out a sigh when the door closes behind you.

Shucking off your coat, you hang it up and tug off your mitts and hat next, putting them all away while you listen for your boyfriend.

He's quiet on a good day. On a day like today? When the two of you have been fighting more than you haven't been?

You begin to wonder if he's even home.

Carefully, you venture upstairs to confirm your boyfriend is, in fact, still in the house, sleeping in the bed the two of you share.

Silently, you close the door and head back downstairs, wiping your hands over your face a few times before pinching the bridge of your nose.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you head into the kitchen and grab Simon's lunch bag off of the counter, pausing when you feel the weight of it.

Brows drawing together, you open it up slowly, your heart dropping when you see he's packed himself a lunch.

A pack of instant noodles and a few protein bars are shoved carelessly in the bag, and it breaks your heart to see.

It's become a ritual now, you making his lunch for him every night so that he can head to work and not have to worry.

When he's actively deployed it saddens you to see the lunch bag sitting on the counter, awaiting his return.

But that sadness pales in comparison to what you feel when realization dawns on you.

He packed his own lunch.

Your argument from earlier seems pointless now, you can't even remember what you were fighting about. Not when your man, the man you love with your whole heart, truly thought you'd be too mad to pack his lunch.

Washing your hands, you get to work on making him lunch, your anger disappearing as you focus instead on putting together all of his favourite foods and snacks.

You work as quietly as you can, packaging everything with love and care.

Once his lunch is made, you give the kitchen a quick clean then get everything ready to make sure his morning is as smooth as possible.

Does he piss you off beyond comprehension? Yes, absolutely. In ways you didn't know a person could piss you off.

Do you love him more than you've ever loved anyone before in your life? Without question.

As you settle into bed facing his back, you can't help but lean forward and give him a gentle kiss.

Ever the light sleeper, he peels his eyes open at the feeling of your soft lips against his skin, his anger settling a bit at the tiny yet profound action.

~*~

Simon wakes up the next morning in a sour mood.

With his eyes opening not five minutes before his alarm is set to ring, things aren't off to a good start.

His mood only worsens when he realizes that all he's got to eat today for lunch is a pack of instant noodles, a few protein bars, and the stale crackers you like to leave in the bottom of the box.

It's nothing but willpower and discipline that gets him out of bed, into the shower, and dressed.

His gloomy mood gets worse still when he heads into the kitchen only to not find his lunch bag on the counter where he left it.

The kitchen is clean, by your hand no doubt, and he grinds his teeth together as he begins hunting for his lunch bag.

After almost five minutes, he yanks it out of the fridge, only to pause at the added weight.

Dry noodles aren't this heavy.

He sets the bag down on the counter and slowly opens it, his heart filling with warmth at the contents.

Instead of his bland noodles, there are several containers full of food, along with two of the juice boxes you like to keep hidden in the back of the fridge where you think he won't look.

On top of all of it, though, is a note scribbled in your handwriting with a dried tear drop tainting the paper.

He has to fight the stinging in his eyes as he reads over the words you've written.

He sets the paper down after a moment and squeezes his eyes shut, then carefully folds the paper up and tucks it into one of his many pockets before heading upstairs.

Skillfully silent, he makes no noise as he enters your shared bedroom, even less when he kneels on the bed behind you.

You inhale sharply when his hand dusts over your shoulder, looking over your shoulder only for him to immediately shush you.

"S'alright, love. S'just me. Go back to sleep."

You hum, resting your head on the pillow once more and snuggling into him when he climbs into bed behind you.

He wraps a strong arm around your waist and pulls you tightly against him, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you."

You peel your eyes open once more and glance over at him.

"I love you too."

[djarindroid]

Unspoken

Pairing: Thanos (Choi Su-Bong) x Reader

Summary: Su-Bong's back like nothing happened, is he here to stay?

Warnings: Brief mentions of drug use

Word Count: 2,121

Comments: Hey all! Just a quick question for anyone that reads this bit, in future parts would anyone care if I potentially changed Thanos/Su-Bong's hair colour? 👀

<- Part 5

The morning after your nightmare you’d woken to the faint rustle of movement in the next room. You moved quietly across your bedroom and peered around the doorway. Su-Bong was still there. 

You watched him sitting on the edge of your couch, rolling a cigarette. The paper crinkled between his fingers as a few bits of loose tobacco fell out onto his jeans. His head was tilted down, keeping all his attention on the task at hand.

You had expected him to be gone, you didn’t dare move in case this was some illusion your brain had conjured to comfort you. You simply stood in the doorway, eyes wide as you watched him. 

Sensing your presence he asked, ‘sleep better?’ He didn’t take his attention away from the cigarette in his hands.

You shifted slightly, wondering how long he’d known you were stood there. ‘Urm, yeah,’ you replied, voice still laced with sleep. ‘Thank you for staying.’

He shrugged, finishing the roll up and sliding it behind his ear. ‘It’s nothing.’ 

But it wasn’t ‘nothing’.

The air between you was thick. Somewhere between tension and something softer. Like the aftermath of a storm that hadn’t fully passed. He still hadn’t looked at you, now opting to watch his own fingers tap absently against his knee.

You glanced at the clock on your wall and sighed. ‘I’ve got work soon, I should get ready.’

‘Kay,’ he said, stretching slightly before finally looking at you. ‘I’ll walk you there.’

Your eyes met for a brief moment, sending a shiver through you. His expression remained calm, but you could see he was still cautious, like he wasn’t completely sure where you two stood with each other anymore. Before you could read into it anymore, he looked away again, brushing the stray tobacco from his jeans.

You paused for a moment before turning back into your room and shutting the door behind you. As you pulled on your work clothes you felt overly aware of Su-Bong’s presence in the next room.  He’d never stayed the night before, it felt strangely domestic, too normal given everything that had recently happened.

By the time you stepped out ready to go, Su-bong was already standing and pulling on his hoodie. Without a word the two of you headed for your apartment door.

The walk to your work was quiet, neither of you spoke yet his presence was impossible to ignore. Every so often your arm would brush against his, you weren’t sure if it was intentional or just the way your steps fell naturally in sync.

You stole a quick glance at him, he seemed relaxed but there was something distant about the way his eyes flickered between the pavement and the street ahead.

It felt eerily similar to the last time he had walked you home. The same silence and internal struggle in your mind about whether you should say something. Though this time you had a feeling he was going through the same thing

As you neared the cafe Su-Bong asked ‘What time you finishing?’

‘Uh, I’ll be done at 5,’ you replied.

He gave a small nod but didn’t say anything else. His footsteps slowed as you approached the door. You turned to him, and there was that feeling again, the unspoken tension that darted between you.

You watched as he pulled his hoodie up, giving you a small tilt of his chin as a goodbye before turning and walking off down the street. You caught yourself watching him go, the unease spreading across your chest.

As you pushed the door to the cafe open you were surprised to find your boss already stood watching you walk in. She gave you that same knowing look as she crossed her arms.

‘He’s walking you to work now as well?’ A teasing edge in her voice that you couldn’t help but smile at.

‘It’s nothing,’ you said as you pulled off your coat. ‘He stayed on the couch last night.’

‘Mmhmm,’ she hummed.

You busied yourself tying your apron, trying to ignore the way your heart still felt unsteady from the morning.

‘Well whatever's going on there, I’m sure you two will figure it out soon.’ Your boss said before she turned and went back to the counter.

You hoped she was right, but more than anything you hoped that Su-Bong wasn’t going to just disappear from your life again.

Yet another one of your shifts was spent wondering about Su-Bong, it was becoming a habit now. 

Take an order, check your phone, serve some cake, check the clock, steam some milk, check outside. 

By the time your shift neared its end, rain had begun to fall outside. You watched it streak down the windows, washing away the last of your hope. He wasn’t gonna show up in this weather.

Accepting that, you slipped into the back to grab your things. As you slung your bag over your shoulder you heard your boss’s voice from the front of the cafe. 

‘Oh for goodness sake, you’ll be soaked through, come inside before you catch a cold.’ You smiled, it was no surprise hearing her fussing over someone like that, what did surprise you was what she said next.

‘You can just wait for her in here.’

Your breath caught. He was here, he hadn’t disappeared again. You quickly moved back into the cafe. And there he was. Su-Bong was stood near the entrance, his hair sticking down from the rain. 

You had to stifle a laugh at the sight of him standing stiffly, not knowing what to do with himself as your boss fussed over him, brushing droplets from his shoulders. She turned and reached for one of the umbrellas she kept by the door and thrust it towards him.

You lingered for a moment, watching the amusing scene unfold - him standing in a place that didn’t quite suit him being doted on like a stray someone had taken pity on.

Like he knew you were watching him, he looked up. Your eyes met, and you felt that same shiver from the morning. You didn’t have time to dwell on it as your boss was ushering you forward. 

‘Here,’ she gestured to the umbrella as you approached. ‘You two can share so you don’t get wet.’

You smiled and thanked her before turning back to Su-Bong. He was scratching the back of his head, still looking vaguely uncomfortable.

‘You ready to go?’ He asked.

‘Yeah,’ you stepped forward as he began to push the door open.

He headed out before you, opening the umbrella so you could step out under it too. 

The rain drummed against the umbrella, as the two of you began walking. You tried to not let your thoughts dwell on how close you were, how you could feel his warmth or how you could smell the faint scent of smoke that clung to his jacket. 

‘She like your mum or something?’ Su-Bong asked, nodding back toward the cafe.

You couldn’t help but laugh, ‘no she’s not my mum, she’s just like that with everyone.’

Su-Bong laughed too. ‘Could’ve fooled me, if we stayed any longer she’d be giving me a packed lunch and getting me to tuck my shirt in.’ 

You grinned, this was easy, this is how you two were supposed to be. The lighthearted conversation drifted between you, an easy back and forth that came naturally to the two of you. You talked about your day, a weird customer who insisted on paying in loose change, and about how your boss has been trying to convince you to take up knitting.

Su-Bong hummed in amusement. ‘She’s probably already knitting me a scarf.’

As your apartment building came into sight the conversation tapered off. The air between you was completely different from that morning, the tension was gone leaving you with the familiar comfort he usually brought.

‘You wanna get takeout señorita?’ And there it was. That nickname again, the one you hadn’t heard in nearly a week at this point. The one that had you forgetting everything that happened.

A grin tugged at your lips as you pushed open the door. ‘Yeah I’d like that, but you’re paying.’

Things between you and Su-Bong settled into a new normal. There was still that unspoken cloud hanging over you both, but neither of you acknowledged it. Opting to choose the easy route. 

He never said anything about the four days of silence, never explained why he chose to answer you in the middle of the night and you never asked. But in his own way, it seemed like he was trying to make up for it.

You’d catch him clearing the dishes after dinner, or replacing the flickering bulb in your lamp without a word. If you dropped something, he was bending down to get it before it even hit the floor. He even attempted to fix your wobbley coffee table, he did a pretty good job even if he managed to leave it with a slight lean. 

He never made a big deal out of any of it, never tried to get a thanks out of you. But you understood, this was his way of apologising. And, for now, that was enough.  

Although every time he did something it became harder and harder to ignore the growing warmth in your chest. It was the way he did them, casually, like it was the simplest thing in the world. It was getting harder to pretend your feelings weren’t shifting, harder to ignore the way you found yourself looking at him when he wasn’t paying attention, harder to push down the thought that maybe he felt it too.

But then you’d remember that night.

The dazed, half lidded way he’d looked at you. How you’d wanted to give in to him, to let him pull you close. You kept telling yourself he hadn’t meant it, that it was just the high talking. Yet, you couldn’t quite shake the hope that it had come from somewhere real.

So you never said anything, letting that warmth settle in your chest without giving it a name. Because if you asked, if you pushed, he might disappear again. And you weren’t ready for that.

One evening whilst he was sprawled out across your couch as you watched TV, he said something that made your heart lift.

‘I’ve written some new songs recently,’ he said offhandedly like he expected you to brush past it.

You perked up at his words, he never spoke about his music career. For a split second all you could do was look at him. You’d heard what people had said in the games about him. How his career had started to slip, how he was forgetting the lyrics to his own songs. You’d never mentioned it, not sure if it was something he’d want to go back to.

‘Wait, really?’ You managed to say as you shifted towards him.

He kept his eyes on the TV but nodded. ‘Yeah, got a gig in a couple of days. Nothing big though.’

Your chest tightened, because you knew it was a big deal even if he was acting like it wasn’t, he was trying again. ‘Su-Bong, that's amazing!’

He shrugged but you caught the smile tugging at his lips. ‘It’s just a little set, nothing like what I used to do, need something to get me started again you know?’

‘I’m sure the world is ready to hear some new Thanos material,’ you wiggled your eyebrows at him. 

Su-Bong didn’t laugh, his expression shifted subtly, but still enough for you to notice. He exhaled slowly before his eyes flickered to you. 

‘I’m not using that name anymore,’ he said simply.

That caught you off guard, he was letting go of something so big, something that had defined him, and he was saying it like it was something so simple. ‘Seriously?’

‘Doesn’t feel right anymore,’ he gave a small shrug.

You nodded slowly, it made sense. Maybe this was his way of starting over properly, like he was getting rid of a piece that no longer fit. You could tell there was something else he wanted to say so you remained quiet, giving him the time to think it through. 

‘Anyways, if you’re not busy you could come if you want?’ He cleared his throat, was he nervous? ‘It’s probably not your kinda scene but y’know, if you’re not busy you could.’

The way he danced through the words made your chest ache, he was really trying to act like this whole thing wasn’t important. But you could read between the lines - he wanted you there. And there was no way in hell you were gonna say no.

-> Part 7 Coming Soon Series Masterlist

Taglist: @andersonslove @fallout-girl219 @olasz-2003 @l5byrinth @hotdxdragon @cherrypied0lly @nicklet94 @learninglinesintherainn @tebteb @lotsa-juicy-shit @onecojg @the-iridescent-phoenix @red22wolf

[leaderwon]

VALENTINE'S DAY WITH RI-KI!

Synopsis : Riki brews a thoughtful surprise in the form of a personalized coffee date, complete with a hand written love note hidden under your cup.

Warnings : Fluff, mentions of food

Wc : 2k+

Luna's Diary : aaannddd 2025 valentine's day is a wrap :3 tysm for reading :)

masterlist

Valentine's Day was always painted with hues of red roses and boxes of heart shaped chocolates. But for you, this year carried a unique charm, a touch of Riki's creativity and warmth. The morning sun poured into your window as your phone vibrated on the nightstand.

“Morning. Meet me at our usual spot at 11? :)” Riki’s text was short but filled with intrigue. You smiled, already imagining what he might have up his sleeve. The “usual spot” was a quaint coffee shop tucked into a corner street, where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered like a comforting hug.

By the time you arrived, Riki was already waiting by the window. He spotted you instantly, his eyes lighting up as he waved enthusiastically. His tousled hair framed his face, and a grin stretched across his lips.

“Right on time” he teased as you sat down across from him. “I could say the same about you” you quipped. “What’s the occasion?” His grin widened. “What, I can’t just ask you out for coffee on Valentine’s Day without being suspicious?”

“You totally can, but I know you. There’s definitely a twist” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully. He laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Maybe, maybe not. But first, coffee.”

True to his word, Riki ordered your favorite drinks. The barista greeted him with a knowing smile, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was a regular conspirator in Riki’s plans. Moments later, your cups arrived, steaming and adorned with perfectly swirled foam art.

“Cheers to Valentine's Day” Riki said, holding up his cup. “To surprises, I guess” you added, clinking your cup against his.

The rich flavor of the coffee warmed you from the inside out. Conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with laughter and stories that made time slip through your fingers. Yet, there was an underlying excitement in Riki’s demeanor, like he was waiting for the perfect moment.

“So, have you made any Valentine’s Day wishes?” he asked, stirring his drink absently. You tilted your head. “Is that a thing?” “It is if you want it to be. Go ahead, make one.”

You played along, closing your eyes dramatically. “Okay, I’ve got one.” He leaned in, his voice low. “What did you wish for?” “Not telling” you teased. He pouted, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. “Fine. But I have something better than a wish.”

Riki gestured to your cup. Confused, you lifted it slightly, and that’s when you noticed it, a small, folded note stuck to the bottom. “What’s this?” you asked, heart racing as you peeled it off. “Open it” he encouraged, his voice gentle.

With trembling fingers, you unfolded the note. His familiar handwriting covered the paper, each word carefully crafted.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I thought about getting you flowers, but I figured words last longer. So here’s this: You make every day brighter, and honestly, there’s no one else I’d rather share coffee and dumb jokes with. You’re my favorite person, the one who turns even boring moments into memories I never want to forget. You make my world lighter and happier in ways I didn’t even know I needed. Thank you for being yourself and letting me be by your side through it all. I hope I can keep making you smile, just like you always do for me.” - Riki

Emotion welled up in your chest as you read his words. It was simple, honest, and utterly perfect. “Riki” you whispered, looking up at him. “I meant every word” he said softly. “You’re kinda stuck with me, you know.”

You laughed through the tears threatening to spill. “Good thing I don’t mind that.” He reached across the table, his hand finding yours. The warmth of his touch was grounding. “So... did I beat your Valentine’s Day wish?” he asked with a mischievous glint. “You blew it out of the water” you admitted. “Good.” He leaned back, clearly satisfied with himself. “Now we just need dessert.”

“Is that code for more surprises?” “Maybe. But this time, you’ll have to wait and see” he said with a wink.

The rest of the date unfolded with sweetness, literal and figurative. You shared slices of cake, argued playfully over which flavor was better, and made a mess with whipped cream that Riki absolutely did on purpose.

As you left the coffee shop, the world felt lighter. Riki walked beside you, his hand intertwined with yours. The city buzzed with Valentine’s Day festivities, but all you could focus on was him.

“You know, this might be my favorite Valentine’s Day ever” you admitted. “Really? Even without the fancy stuff?” “Especially without the fancy stuff” you emphasized. He grinned. “Guess I’ll have to top it next year.” “Good luck with that” you teased.

Riki pulled you closer, his voice warm. “Challenge accepted.”

And as the day faded into evening, one thing was clear: love wasn’t in the grand gestures but in the thoughtful moments, the laughter, and the handwritten notes that lingered in your heart forever.

© @leaderwon 2025. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[crsssie]

physics and racing... (of the heart) - Spencer Reid

word count: 1028 // (shoujo event || prompt 3 - shared secret)

summary: you soar, late to your physical, and Spencer stands dumbfounded. was that a tattoo?

The first time Spencer ever met you, he's passing the FBI academy at Quantico, and you're jumping the fence to be able to make it to the fitness test on time because... something. Spencer remembers only the sight of you jumping the fence, and it's honestly not much if you are late, but you don't seem to know that. They never tell the new recruits that— and, well, Spencer failed his physical in his earlier years so it's not like he has much of a say in it. 

But, he does spot a lower back tattoo that flashes him while you're in the air.

You had locked eyes with him and held your finger over your lips before promptly flying off on the field, and Spencer wondered if you had wings from how easily you seemed to have soared over the fence when he had spotted you.

He kept to himself over that, not mentioning it to anyone. If no one asks, then it'd be normal to cover for others. Besides, he's sure someone's got a tattoo somewhere out of all the feds. Also, he had to get strings pulled so they could keep his talent.

He knows that's how he ended up on the team, after all.

Three weeks later, you're showing up at the door of the BAU after Elle's got you in tow.

You blink at him, tilting your head and offering a shy smile, and he's nodding back.

"Doctor Spencer Reid. Our specialist on... well, everything." Hotch mumbles, and since then, you're thrown into the whirlwind of things. 

You get along with everyone, and you're careful to not change around them when you can avoid it, tilt of a head and a quiet brushing off of your hand when people ask if you're hot, but it's almost impossible to avoid when you're being flushed down for Anthrax with Spencer, shirt soaked through as you blink quietly, locking eyes with him as he stares back. 

"You mind exercising authority?" You mumble quietly, eyes blinking up at him as he swallows slowly. 

"You both mind looking away while they flush them off?" Spencer nods at you when you strip, shirt tugged over your head as the man flushes you down. There's no explicit rule about not letting people have tattoos in the FBI, contrary to most other Federal Agencies, but it's still frowned upon. You know as a matter of fact that lying on your application about having completely clear skin with no ink was a crime in itself, so you hoped to keep it that way.

You're fine, but Spencer's rushed to the hospital and near loses his damn life because of his cut. 

Morgan stands to the side as you start at a cup of jello, raising a brow when he asks for a bite.

"Thought you were a germaphobe."

"Mm... jello." He mumbles, grabbing for your spoon as you hold it away.

"Hey!"

"Can I get one?"

"I'll ask the nurse."

But Spencer Reid isn't a romantic. He knows how to read about love, just not express it. And you're not quite someone who really expresses love outwardly. Everything you do could be written off as a simple flick of the wrist friendship action. Something that you do out of care because you like gifting things to people and helping others out. You send Penelope different flowers each week. You fold paper roses for Emily and bring Derek coffee in the morning. Spencer's not special, he supposes. You seem to have everyone's coffee order memorized. Though, not that it's too hard. He does too.

But maybe it isn't fair for him to dwell on everything himself. His intellect can only get so far. His emotions can't do much to fix him if he's not needing all that fixing. He just needs to understand better, perhaps. Understand his brain. He knows how his brain is working — releasing chemicals of love and he wonders if he should lower his chocolate intake or give up on peas entirely but it's completely and utterly unfair that he's the only one with a racing heart with you around. He isn't even sure how he fell for you.

He catches you tilting your head at one of the local officers as he rambles to you — cute guy. Looks innocent enough, and isn't super sleazy. The only issue is that your puffer jacket keeps riding up with how much you're pulling at it to keep your chest warm, and your undershirt is getting dangerously close to your waistline where your pants are, and the last thing he wants is you being found out for lying. He's not too sure why he feels that way. He isn't obligated to keep the secret, but it just feels like he should for some reason.

Maybe he was starstruck the first time he met you. It would've been a stretch, but he was certain he was stuck in place blinking while gaping like a fish out of water because of you. You were just. It was. It was just. You flew, and perhaps it was the strange phenomenon of a breaking of physics that you were in the process of doing when he met you but it startles him and his chest is going rampant in his chest and he does not(!) like the way that someone else is—

He meets eyes with you from across the room, holding up a file and tapping it, pursing his lips.

So he presents you with a way out, and you take it, nodding at the officer as you make your way back to the board.

"Need help?"

"Thought you might've needed a way out."

"I did."

"Then I'm glad I read you right."

You beam at him. 

"Thank you."

He glances at the way your jacket rides up along your back, and he tugs on you gently for you — secondhand habit. Like a habit. Too domestic. He doesn't know why he just did that.

Spencer hears your breath hitch, and he's sure his ears are beyond red right now.

"The ink." He mumbles, pulling his fingers away as you blink at him.

"Thank you."

"Always."

But maybe he doesn't need to overthink it. Maybe, this was perfectly okay as is.

[ceo-of-sloppy-women]

No grave can hold my body down; I'll crawl home to her

Chapter 14

read it on ao3

Chapter 16

When morning finally calls you back to consciousness, you wake with Sevika’s arm wrapped around you, holding you tenderly to her chest. You can feel her lips pressed to the back of your neck, a soft, relaxed smile stuck to your skin. Sinking into the moment, you are at ease for the first time in nine years, protected on all four walls guarding the most dangerous woman in Zaun. You rest your hand overtop of hers, slowly lacing your fingers with hers, taking what you can like a starving dog.

Sevika must feel the shift in states, as a moment later she’s yawning against the scruff of your neck. Your hand tenses, worried she’ll pull back, heart thundering in your chest. Yet, her arm remains firmly wrapped around you, thumb now stroking back and forth across your stomach.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Sevika hums, her voice full of gravel from slumber.

“Did you sleep okay?” you ask, resting your eyes in the safety of her watch.

“’Course I did, I –“

A loud crash sounds from downstairs, and both of you bolt up in bed. It’s a mad scramble for pants and socks, feet thundering down the stairs as your hand tenses over your holster. Both of you fearing the same thing: infected.

Sevika’s around the corner first, freezing when a kid loudly shouts her name, giggling happily. You run right into her back due to the sudden stop, nose colliding with hard muscle. Pulling back, you rub your nose with a cranky groan. Sitting in the kitchen are Jinx and Isha, with Isha covered in pancake batter (flour mostly, if you’re being honest) and Jinx holding a flipper, a mess of pancakes already in the pan.

“What are you two doing?” Sevika sighs heavily, like she’s on the verge of scolding a misbehaving child.

“Making you breakfast, duh! Isha wanted pancakes, and then she wanted to share them with you two, so we came here,” Jinx says innocently, as if she hadn’t just broken into someone’s house.

“Why couldn’t you just have invited us over?” Sevika grumbles, straightening out her shirt as Isha launches herself at her. She catches Isha effortlessly, holding the kid on her hip. “You know, instead of teaching the kid to break into people’s houses.”

“Because this way, you can’t say no,” Jinx states matter-of-factly, flipping the pancakes. One of them smears against the pan, making a bigger mess. “Oh, maybe that one wasn’t ready.”

“She has a point, Sev’,” you butt in, walking around Sevika to help Jinx so she doesn’t make a worse mess of your kitchen.

“Don’t agree with her! You’re supposed to be on my side!” Sevika sputters, standing in the living room, flabbergasted.

You shrug: “I want pancakes.”

Sevika groans half-heartedly, trying to put on a show more than anything. You can see it plainly written on her face; you’ve already won her over. Just as she opens her mouth to argue further, Isha taps her on the shoulder, getting her attention.

Isha signs, her eyebrows raised upwards, an anticipatory smile on her face: “Can we draw together? Please?”

Unable to sign back as her only hand is holding Isha, Sevika nods her head and says “okay” as clearly as she can.

Isha grins, clapping her hands and squirming until Sevika puts her down. Then she runs off to grab some paper from the coffee table, stuffing a purple crayon in Sevika’s hand. Sevika chuckles, sitting cross-legged at the coffee table and accepting the paper Isha gives her. Isha rapid signs at Sevika, who does her best to keep up with the kid, asking her to repeat what she doesn’t catch the first time. Isha, happy someone’s playing with her, continues until Sevika understands completely.

“Hey, love-sick, you going to help or not?” Jinx demands after failing to flip another pancake.

Snapped out of your lovesick stupor you turn around, face flushed and take the spatula from her. “Let me do this; you can layout the spreads and syrups.”

“If you want to fail at pancakes, be my guest,” Jinx surrenders immediately, turning around to root through the cabinets.

“I’m going to be the one cleaning up the mess afterwards anyway,” you point out, managing to flip a pancake without ruining it.

“Hey, we’ll help clean up, I won’t leave you with this mess. Not after Isha dropped the flour – not a lot of it, but if you wonder why there’s white handprints everywhere, she’s to blame.”

“Oh? Pinning your butterfingers on a kid now, Jinx?” you tease her.

“Dodging the fact you’re head over heels for my aunt now?” Jinx counters, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“Hey!” you hiss, shooting a glare at her.

“Oh, shit you’re not even denying it,” Jinx whispers, staring at you with an open mouth. “You’re fucked, bottle-rocket. Good thing I like you already, otherwise, I would make you go through a grueling trial before I kept your secret for you. But fear not! I shall keep your secret safe and sound.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking your head to focus on the pancakes.

“Don’t mention it!” Jinx giggles, grabbing a wet cloth to clean up the floury mess she’s made all across the kitchen.

By the time you’ve finished cooking the pancakes, Jinx has cleaned up the whole kitchen, making it shine (as best as it can in the apocalypse, at least). Sevika manages to drag Isha away from the coffee table long enough to get a plate in front of her. Isha stops whining the moment she’s presented with sweet, fluffy pancakes, scarfing down at least six (you’re not sure where she puts them all in her tiny body, but you’re not about to stop her; there are a lot of pancakes). Somehow, Jinx manages to wrangle Isha into helping with dishes, the kitchen cleaner than you’d left it by the time the four of you part ways. Jinx is off taking Isha to school, and Sevika’s trailing behind you like a lost puppy as you head to the printing shop. You vow to do laundry that night (hopefully), but today you need clean clothes.

As you walk in the store, you nearly run smack into Grayson. Thankfully, she moves at the last moment and the two of you share an awkward laugh.

“You are now the proud owner of a printing press. Make something good,” she teases you, winking as she slips out the shop. “I’ve got orders to fill, so if there’s any problems come find me!”

“Thank you!” you call after her as she walks off into the slowly thickening crowd of commuters.

“Need help?” Sevika asks, lingering in the doorway as if she’s still not sure whether she’s allowed inside.

“As if I’d say no,” you giggle, pulling her inside. “Come on, I’ll need someone to help me figure out what to print first.”

“Make it something useful – basic first aid or survival skills. Something we can print a lot of to get a hang of the press,” Sevika suggests, following you into the back.

“You’re so smart; what would I do without you?” you ask, beaming up at her as you hold the door to the press room open.

“You’d have come up with it yourself,” Sevika shrugs, stepping past you.

“Maybe, maybe not – who knows? Who cares? You’re here with me now, and that’s much better than doing all this myself. I wouldn’t even have gotten to this part by myself, I’d probably be dead to that horde back when you found me,” you say, taking in the (slightly underwhelming) sight of the printing press.

It’s gorgeously crafted, with carvings in the legs and as accurate to the design as possible. Yet, after weeks of waiting, it felt more like a mute point. You’re anticipating the process far more than the press itself, so you set to work figuring out how to get started rather than staring in awe at the truly gorgeous creation Grayson has delivered to your workshop. Besides, everything pales in comparison next to Sevika.

Together, the two of you spend the next eight hours printing pamphlets, getting covered in ink, and giggling – genuinely, actually giggling. You stop short the first time you hear it escape Sevika’s lips, floored at the beauty of her smile. Your heart swells in your chest, craving to kiss her tender lips – to take her right there and then on the workbench. Yet, you carry on, tucking away your beating heart in the name of art. There’s a time and place to swoon over her, even if that swooning won’t get you farther than a few wayward looks. You’ve come to terms with that. It doesn’t make it hurt any less.

When the sun’s finally setting, Sevika drags you out of the shop and to the grocery store. You pick up something easy to make, taking it home and stumbling through the door, already stoned from the walk over. Sevika had acquired new joints from God knows where, grinning as you tried to drag her sources out of her. No such luck.

“Alright, strip,” she demands the moment you step inside.

“What?” you squeak, face flushing scarlet.

“We need to wash your clothes; it’s disgusting at this point. You get dinner ready and I’ll wash ‘em for you,” Sevika explains, holding out her hand impatiently.

“Oh, right,” you giggle nervously, glancing upstairs at your bedroom. “Here, take this –“ you had her dinner – “I’ll be right back.”

“Be quick,” she grunts, disappointment flickering behind her eyes. You brush it off and race upstairs.

Ten minutes later, you’re standing in her shirt, preparing tacos as she fusses with an old washing machine. In solidarity, she’s stripped down and tossed her clothes in as well, wearing nothing but a white tank top and a pair of plaid pyjama pants now. You admire her back tattoo, wanting to ghost your fingers over it, yet you’re covered in salsa, so you let the feeling pass you by. For now, you lean into the quiet domestic life with her, wrapped up in the gentle current of the universe

Clean clothes have never felt better. You’d nearly forgotten what they felt like all together, but nothing beat the next morning when you slipped into a freshly washed pair of jeans and a bra that wasn’t stiff with grime. Well, almost nothing – it couldn’t beat waking up with Sevika’s arm thrown across your chest, a small puddle of drool soaking into the shirt she’d lent you. As if the universe has finally fallen into place around you, and all you have to do is linger within it.

Unfortunately, Sevika doesn’t join you in the print shop that day. Vander arrives at the house in the early hours of the morning to request Sevika’s help with the windmill. You had almost forgotten about the project! Frankly, you were taken aback that it wasn’t done yet; after all, it has been a little more than four weeks now. Though you supposed building a brand new structure, and all of the pieces that go within it takes far longer when you have to do everything by hand (and can’t import pieces from other sites).

Craving fresh bread made from properly ground flour, you don’t even put up a fight for Sevika’s help. You can work alone if it means the next bun you eat isn’t a little gritty.

Your sacrifice leads to the loss of Sevika’s help for the remainder of the week. It isn’t all bad – Jinx and Isha do stop by occasionally to “help out,” but neither were really all that much help. Mostly, Isha sat on the floor colouring, and Jinx rambled about all the fun things you were missing out on cooped up inside. At least it gave you a distraction while you printed the same thing over and over again – you’d moved past survival pamphlets and onto your first attempt at a book, deciding to reprint the novel you were reading the night Sevika had come to you. Hopefully, Grayson will be satisfied with your selection… but printing a novel meant you had to print several copies of the same page over and over again, fussing over spacing and trying to ensure you had the words spelled correctly. All while Jinx tried to steal pages to read them for herself. In the end, you had to keep two bookmarks in the book, one for your work and one for her reading, as she got far too invested while you were making endless copies of the pages.

Slowly, the quiet rhythm of life began to crawl back into your heart, and you melted into the normalcy that used to pervade your life before the apocalypse. It felt good to finally have the rhythm back – it had tried to return while Sevika was injured but never quite stuck after everything that happened afterwards. Finally, it felt like it’s here to stay; a realization you came to in the middle of printing the heartfelt love confession, swooning over the words as Jinx read them aloud in her giggling mockery that gave away how into the plot she actually was.

Before you headed home for the night, you stopped by the grocery store to pick up something special: steak, baked beans, potatoes and carrots. A dish reminiscent of the first night you cooked for her. You’re giggling to yourself as you pick out a new steak rub, indulging your creativity as you grab a stick of butter. By the time you’ve got everything you need, the basket is nearly overflowing (you might have grabbed an expensive bottle of whiskey and some candles too).

Rocking back and forth on your feet in the grocery line, a voice pipes up behind you: “What’s got you so excited?”

You spin around to see Salo behind you, staring at you with a knowing smile, Mel holding his shopping for him.

“Salo! It’s been too long; how have you been? You haven’t given yourself food poisoning again, have you?”

Salo scoffs and rolls his eyes, his smile refusing to budge an inch. “Occupational hazard. I should be asking you how you’ve been; no one’s seen you all week, except for Jinx claiming she visits you every day in this new… print shop?”

“Oh,” you chuckle nervously and rub the back of your neck. “I guess I’ve been so hard at work I haven’t taken the time for myself. Jinx isn’t wrong; I do have a print shop, though we’re not open yet. I’ve got to get two more books printed before I open my doors, so I have something for all ages.”  

“Please let me know when you are ready; I would love to make a larger announcement to the community on your behalf,” Mel interjects, drawing your attention to her. She holds out her hand: “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mel. Jayce has told me quiet a bit about you.”

You firmly shake her hand, introducing yourself. “I’ve heard about you too – probably not as much as you’ve heard of me. I’d love the help, a little foot traffic would do the shop wonders when I’m ready to open the doors.”

“Excellent. Have you considered collaborating with any local authors to print their works?”

“I have –“ you begin to place your groceries on the counter for the clerk – “I’m not quite sure how to find them, but when I open, I hope to take applications. Printing is a long process; I want to make sure everyone gets a fair chance to have their work printed.”

“A very good idea. I can work with you to connect with local authors; perhaps you could print one of their books as your remaining two.”

“That – that might actually help me decide. If you find anyone willing to work with me, send them down the street, please.”

“Of course.”

You leave the grocery store with a beaming smile on your face as you rush through the evening crowd to get home. Thankfully, Sevika hasn’t made it back yet, so you still have time to roll up your sleeves and get to work. The old cast-iron pan is put to use to sear the steaks as you toss the potatoes in the oven with the pot of beans. The carrots steam in a pot in the far corner of the stove. Everything is given a hefty helping of honey (and other seasonings) to bring out your desired flavours. As things cook, you set the kitchen up around you, lighting candles, setting the whiskey bottle near two glasses, and making sure there wasn’t any dirt on the floor. You’ve even dragged Sevika’s boombox downstairs, plugging it in and tuning it to a local radio station – you’d overheard a group of friends talking about it in the grocery store and wanted to tune in for its first broadcast. So far the music is energizing, painting the kitchen in bright colours that compliment the heavenly scent of your cooking.

You’re so focused on the task at hand and the music that you don’t hear the backdoor swing open, or the footsteps behind you. Until a hand wraps around your waist, her chest against your back, head pressed into her breasts. You squeak loudly, jerking your head up to see Sevika’s sly smile staring back at you.

“Smells heavenly, sugar,” she hums, making you swallow thickly.

“You’ve gotta be louder, I didn’t even hear you come in,” you stammer, trying to make sure you don’t burn the steaks.

Sevika snorts: “That’s not my fault. I even said your name when I came in, you were just too invested in all this to notice.”

“Oh…” you’re thankful she towers over you so she can’t see the way your face flushes in embarrassment. God. This kind of obliviousness would get you killed these days.

“What ya cookin’ anyway? Smells heavenly,” Sevika continues, oblivious to your sudden embarrassment.

“Steak and baked potatoes,” you admit sheepishly.

“Just like the first night, hm? You trying to tell me something?”

“What would I be trying to tell you?”

“I don’t know, but you should write these recipes down; makes the whole house smell divine. Could turn it into a cookbook for your print shop.”

Your head still spins from what she could have possibly meant earlier, so all you manage is a sheepish head nod. You don’t have the faintest idea of what she’s insinuating – it’s not as if you wanted to do anything more than celebrate the good week you’ve had. It’s not as if anything really happened, beyond Grayson flirting with you, that first day. You’d only made steak so that Sevika would talk to you again! Did she think you were mad at her? Oh, God, have you pathologized her with cooking to make her think steak means she’s done something wrong?

“Hey, you even paying attention?” Sevika asks, pulling you out of your mental doom spiral.

“Huh? What?”

“Don’t space out on me now; you’ll burn the steak,” Sevika chuckles. “I said they’re holding a barn dance in a few days to celebrate the new windmill.”

“We should go,” you say immediately, reaching for a plate for the steaks. Sevika grabs one and passes it to you.

“If you want. I usually don’t go to these things, can’t really dance,” Sevika shrugs, giving you space to plate the food.

“All the more reason we should go – you’ve worked hard to help them put on the finishing touches. You deserve a chance to appreciate your own work,” you insist, carrying the dishes out to the table on the back porch.

“You’re just saying that because you want to go,” Sevika points out, taking a seat at the table. The clatter of silverware sings through the backyard as she sets them in the middle.

“Is that such a bad thing?” you ask, sitting down across from her.

Sevika merely grunts, shrugging her shoulders as she takes a steak from the serving platter.

The conversation dies away as the two of you pile your plates high and devour the delicious meal. You listen to Sevika’s day at work – all the dangerous chances she almost died yet unfortunately survived (in her opinion). She listens to your day at work and how Jinx giggled maniacally through the last few chapters of the novel. An air of domestic joy wraps around the two of you, even as you hurry to do the dishes and grab the whiskey off the counter. Sevika puts her feet up on the table – something you scold her half-heartedly for – swirling her whiskey before taking a sip. A contented sigh escapes her as she melts further into the porch swing. You tentatively lean against her shoulder until she pulls you closer, whiskey sloshing in the bottom of her glass so that you’re pressed up against her side.

“This is the life,” she hums, staring up at the stars.

“Certainly better than where I was this time ten years ago,” you scoff, taking a sip of your whiskey.

“Anything’s better than ten years ago. I could get eaten by infected tomorrow and it would still be better than that shit show.”

“Indeed,” you murmur, staring up at her as her face relaxes from a scowl back into the contented smile. Desperation bubbles up in your stomach, craving her lips. You barely manage to temper it down, sating yourself by tracing the line of her lips. Your eyes catch over the piercing at the bottom, tongue escaping to wet your lips as you stew in your own pleasant puddle of arousal.

Sevika, oblivious to your staring, takes a sip of whiskey and continues to watch the night sky. Finishing her glass, she sets it down and wraps her hand around your shoulder, thumb stroking your shoulder. No matter how desperately you crave her, you’re not ruining this friendship over an unrequited crush. You’ll spend eternity in this pleasant misery if you must.

Even if you wanted her thumb stroking somewhere far lower. At least you have the barn dance – maybe you can sway her toward seeing you in candlelight rather than the daylight.

[crimkayz]

Snape Headcanons

   ━⊱⋆⊰━━Headcanons━━⊱⋆⊰━

- Prefers tea over coffee, though if he must need or want coffee it would obviously be black. He enjoys sipping tea when he reads or grades papers for class.

- Listens to instrumental music mainly classical but sometimes he doesn’t mind trying something new though this is a very rare chance. He really only listens to music if he needs a break from the silence, so it would need to be instrumental. 

- Enjoys the process of grading papers or homework due to seeing how well he teaches or what students he needs to start picking on the next class. He also enjoys it for the fact that this is one of the new ways he gets to write with ink since he doesn't particularly journal.

- Prefers colder weather or cloudy days, he gets more done and feels more at ease and honestly more subdued.

- Reads mainly history keeps up with potions and constantly reads about anything dealing with rare or unusual magic. He also enjoys reading poetry or well-constructed literature. He tends to read in the dark with a dim lamp next to him to focus or relax.

- His quarters in Hogwarts are dark but overall well-kept. His bookshelf is a bit dusty; he doesn't make time to read often. He would have a tea cart by the fireplace near his chair in the corner where he would tend to read. He would also have a cabinet of potions and or ingredients to make potions for class or other professors. He prefers candlelight so there are also plenty of candlesticks around. 

- Would probably only hang out with Minvera outside school hours. They would chat over tea or some sort of pastry. This would be the only time he would laugh or even get close. He would probably chat about students and rumors, like something Fred or George did. He would most definitely complain about Draco because he knows Minvera would agree.

- Dislikes drinking and would definitely want to always be in control of himself. He would drink maybe a small glass of fire whiskey on the rocks at staff events. He also wouldn't do anything but drink, drugs and other things are off the table for sure. 

- He probably smells like potion ingredients or like a faint scent of cologne that he sprays like once in the morning just because it's a habit, though he particularly doesn't care what he smells like since he is always monitoring his potions class and his closet of ingredients. 

- He probably hardly sleeps and if he does it's never a deep sleep. He probably doesn't have good dreams and is plagued with bad ones. He tells himself he doesn't need the sleep but it definitely plays into his mood. He stays up late and wakes up early. He enjoys having as much time to keep up with everything going on at Hogwarts and all of his duties.  

- He mainly wears black for the convenience due to always working with potions but he spent so long building his dark persona so black is perfect for him, it might even be his favorite color.  

This is all for now… loading more soon.. ;)

I will be writing romantic and nsfw headcanons soon :P

[elliecore4eva]

Part 4 of THE SUNSHINE THAT FELL FAR FROM THE SKY

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Sunshine! Joel's Daughter! Fem! Reader

Genre: Angst/ Fluff

REDEMPTION ARC

ATTEMPT ONE: THE LETTER

Ellie doesn’t know how to say the right thing anymore.

Every time she sees you, she freezes. Her throat locks up, and suddenly, all the words she’s been practicing in her head crumble into dust.

So she writes.

The letter is messy, uneven. She starts over four times, each attempt crumpled and tossed onto her bedroom floor.

But finally, she gets one down that doesn’t make her want to punch a hole through the wall.

She folds it carefully and slips it under your door.

You find it the next morning. Your fingers hover over the paper for a second too long before you unfold it.

Bunny, I don’t know how to fix this. But I need you to know that I want to. I’m sorry doesn’t feel like enough, but it’s all I have right now. Please don’t shut me out. Please don’t let that night be the last thing I ever get to be in your story. -E

You read it. You read it twice.

And then you fold it up and tuck it into your bedside drawer.

You don’t throw it away.

But you don’t answer, either.

Ellie waits. She checks her door every hour for a reply that never comes.

When she finally sees you in town later that day, her heart jumps into her throat.

She rushes toward you—only to halt when she sees Dina walking beside you, her hand resting gently on your back. You’re listening to whatever she’s saying, but there’s a distance in your eyes.

Dina glances up, sees Ellie, and her expression hardens.

Ellie doesn’t need words to understand what Dina is saying.

"Not yet. You don’t get to rush this."

So Ellie swallows her desperation and lets you walk away.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT TWO: THE SONG

Ellie’s guitar has always been her safe place.

And now? She wants to make it yours.

One night, she sets up on your porch.

She knows you’re home. The candlelight flickering through your window tells her that.

So she starts playing.

It’s a song she wrote for you.

Soft, aching, full of regret and longing.

And for a moment, she thinks she sees your shadow shift behind the curtain.

But you don’t come out.

You don’t stop her.

But you don’t let her in, either.

She plays until her fingers hurt, until her voice gets raw—until she has nothing left to give.

And then she leaves.

Joel is waiting for her on the steps when she gets home.

"That go how you wanted it to?"

Ellie sighs, running a hand down her face. "No."

Joel leans back, watching her.

"You don’t give up on people you love, kid."

Ellie doesn’t need to be told that.

She already knows.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT THREE: THE DOG

A week passes before her next attempt.

She hates waiting. But Jesse tells her, "You push too hard, and she’ll shut down completely."

So she waits.

And then she gets an idea.

Stormy, the little gray mutt that you love more than anything, has been acting off. Pacing outside your house, waiting by the stables. Whining.

She misses you.

Just like the whole town does.

Ellie scratches behind Stormy’s ears, muttering, "You miss her, huh?"

The dog just wags her tail, eyes hopeful.

Ellie sighs, running a hand over her face before gripping Stormy’s collar gently.

"Alright, c’mon. Let’s go see our favorite girl."

Bill and Frank, sitting on their porch nearby, both pause mid-conversation.

Bill raises an eyebrow. "Our favorite girl?"

Frank smirks, leaning into him. "Oh, she’s down bad."

Ellie pretends she doesn’t hear them. Her face is already burning enough.

She just takes a breath and walks Stormy to your door.

And when you open it, your breath catches.

Because it’s not just Ellie.

Stormy is practically vibrating with excitement, pawing at your legs, licking your hands.

And for the first time in weeks—you smile.

It’s small. Barely there. But Ellie sees it.

She doesn’t say anything. She just shoves her hands into her pockets and mutters, "She missed you."

You nod, swallowing. "I missed her too."

Not I missed you.

But Ellie will take it.

It’s a start.

Bill watches the whole thing from across the street.

"That kid’s got it bad."

Frank hums, crossing his arms. "She deserves to suffer a little."

Bill smirks. "Oh, she’s sufferin’, alright."

And Ellie?

She knows they’re right.

She deserves this.

But she’s not giving up.

She’ll try again.

ATTEMPT FOUR: THE ROUTE (WITH BILL AND FRANK’S INTERVENTION)

Ellie doesn’t know if you’ll ever look at her the same way again.

That’s the thought that’s been eating her alive for weeks now.

Because it’s not just that you won’t talk to her.

It’s everything.

It’s how you used to gravitate toward her without thinking—touching her wrist, leaning into her side, kissing her cheek just because you could.

It’s how your voice used to light up when you saw her. How you used to say her name like it was your favorite word.

Now?

Now you don’t even look at her.

And Ellie is drowning.

So she tries again.

This time, she does something she knows will get your attention.

She changes patrol routes.

You hear about it before she can tell you herself.

Maria is the one who lets it slip.

"You’ll be taking the west route tomorrow."

You frown, confused. "I thought Ellie and I were on that route?"

Maria gives you a look. "Ellie requested a switch."

Your stomach drops.

She… switched?

Ellie—who hates change and always said she felt safest when she was patrolling with you?

Ellie, who once told you, "If we’re gonna die out there, at least I get to die looking at you."

She switched?

Maria hesitates, clearly watching your reaction.

"She, uh… she said she didn’t want to make you uncomfortable."

You swallow hard.

She did this for you.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t know how to feel.

That night, you find her.

She’s sitting on her porch steps, hands clasped together, staring at nothing.

When she sees you approaching, her entire body tenses.

She wasn’t expecting this.

You sit down next to her—not too close, but close enough.

And for the first time in weeks, you break the silence first.

"You didn’t have to switch routes."

Ellie lets out a breath, rubbing the back of her neck. "I know."

You hesitate. "I don’t want you to… avoid me."

Ellie turns to you so fast it almost startles you.

"I wasn’t—I’m not avoiding you, Bunny." Her voice is quiet, desperate. "I just… I didn’t want you to feel trapped with me."

You look down at your hands.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

And then you hear Ellie inhale sharply.

"I—fuck, I miss you so much."

Your fingers twitch in your lap.

She sounds broken.

Like she doesn’t know how to do this anymore.

Like losing you has shattered her.

You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a breath.

"I should go."

You stand up. Ellie’s hands clench into fists, like she’s physically stopping herself from reaching for you.

But she doesn’t stop you.

She won’t.

She’ll let you set the pace.

Even if it kills her.

Bill and Frank watch from their window.

Bill sighs. "She’s gettin’ there."

Frank leans against his shoulder. "Slowly."

Bill smirks. "Good. Let her suffer a little more."

Frank chuckles. "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?"

Bill shrugs. "Just a little."

They watch Ellie drop her head into her hands.

Frank’s amusement fades. "Maybe we should help her."

Bill scoffs. "Help her? Why the hell would we—"

Ellie suddenly lets out the loudest, most miserable groan.

Bill and Frank both jump.

Then they stare.

Ellie drags her hands down her face, muttering, "I’m gonna fucking die."

Bill’s eyebrows shoot up.

Frank blinks.

They look at each other.

Then back at Ellie.

Then back at each other.

Bill clears his throat. "Yeah, alright. Maybe we should help her."

ATTEMPT FIVE: BILL AND FRANK’S INTERVENTION

Bill and Frank decide to intervene.

Because at this point, watching Ellie suffer is almost painful for them too.

Sure, Bill might have enjoyed watching her stew in her own mistakes for a bit—serves her right for screwing up so badly—but even he has to admit that this is getting pathetic.

Ellie looks haunted.

She barely eats. She barely sleeps. She’s snapping at everyone.

And the worst part?

She still worships you.

Every time she sees you in town, she stares like she’s starving.

Like you’re the only thing that could ever make her feel whole again.

And every time you pass her without stopping, without smiling, she looks like someone just ripped her heart out.

So yeah.

Bill and Frank decide to do something about it.

It starts with a trap.

Ellie comes back from patrol, exhausted, covered in dirt, and just ready to collapse.

But the moment she reaches her front door, she pauses.

Because Bill and Frank are standing on her porch.

Waiting.

Bill crosses his arms. Frank waves.

Ellie groans. "What now?"

Frank grins. "Sit your ass down."

She doesn’t move.

So Bill grabs her shoulder and forces her onto the porch step.

"Jesus, okay! Fuck, I’m sitting!"

Frank sits next to her, nudging her boot with his own. "Kid, you look like shit."

Bill snorts.

Ellie glares. "Thanks, Frank. That helps."

Bill leans against the porch railing, squinting at her. "You still in the doghouse?"

Ellie lets out a long, pained sigh. "Oh, I don’t think I even live in the house anymore, Bill. I think I’m in the goddamn yard, under the goddamn dirt."

Frank whistles lowly. "Damn."

Bill shakes his head. "Serves you right."

Ellie groans again, flopping back against the steps. "You guys suck at this."

Frank pats her knee. "We’re not here to make you feel better, kid. We’re here to tell you how to fix it."

Ellie blinks.

Because that’s new.

She sits up quickly. "Wait, you actually have advice?"

Bill grumbles. "Unfortunately."

Frank grins. "You know what she loves, right?"

Ellie stares. "Uh. Yeah? Of course?"

Frank shrugs. "Then make her remember it."

Bill sighs, rubbing his temples. "Look, kid. You fucked up."

Ellie nods.

"You said some dumbass shit."

She nods harder.

"And you’re lucky she still lets you breathe the same air as her."

Ellie nods so hard her neck starts to hurt.

Frank laughs. "God, you are so in love with her."

Ellie scowls. "Was that not obvious?"

Bill smirks. "Oh, it was obvious." He gestures at her. "But watching you be a lovesick dumbass is hilarious."

Ellie glares. "Okay, great talk, guys, really—"

Frank grabs her arm. "Ellie. Listen."

She does.

Frank leans in, voice serious. "She loves stars, doesn’t she?"

Ellie stiffens.

Because yeah.

You do.

You’ve always loved them. You used to drag Ellie out at night just to watch them, even on freezing cold nights. You used to lie beside her, pointing at constellations, teaching her their names.

And the worst part?

You haven’t been going outside at night at all since she broke your heart.

Ellie swallows. "She hasn’t been stargazing."

Frank nods.

"So take her."

Ellie’s stomach twists. "She won’t come with me."

Bill rolls his eyes. "Then don’t ask."

Ellie stares.

Bill huffs. "Kid, you’ve been trying to fix this by saying sorry over and over again. And it ain’t working. You gotta show her who you are. Show her who she is to you."

Frank smiles. "Make her remember how it feels to love you."

Ellie feels her heart clench.

Because fuck.

They’re right.

She swallows hard, eyes burning.

"How?"

Bill shrugs. "Figure it out. You’re the whipped one here."

Frank laughs.

And Ellie?

Ellie gets to work.

ATTEMPT SIX: UNDER THE STARS

Ellie doesn’t sleep that night.

Instead, she plans.

Because Bill and Frank are right—words aren’t enough anymore.

You don’t trust her words. You don’t trust her promises. And honestly? She doesn’t blame you.

So if she can’t tell you she’s still yours, she’ll have to show you.

The next evening, just as the sun starts to set, Ellie sets her trap.

She knows your routine. Even if you don’t talk to her anymore, she still sees you—quietly taking care of Jackson, giving the town your warmth even when you’re running on empty.

And tonight?

She uses that against you.

Ellie stations herself outside Maria’s house, where she knows you’ll be stopping to drop off supplies.

When she sees you approaching, arms full of food rations, she doesn’t hesitate.

She steps into your path, hands stuffed in her pockets, trying to ignore the way her heart clenches when you immediately tense at the sight of her.

"Hey."

You don’t answer.

She swallows. "Look, I know you don’t wanna see me. But can you come with me? Just for a little bit?"

You shift uncomfortably, adjusting your grip on the food. "I have things to do."

Ellie shakes her head. "Not tonight, you don’t."

You blink, startled by her certainty.

And then—Maria’s voice rings out from the house.

"Go with her."

You turn sharply. "What?"

Maria appears in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. "You’re done for the night. Whatever this is, it’s more important."

You stare at her, mouth opening—but Maria shuts the door before you can argue.

Ellie watches as you slowly exhale, visibly frustrated.

But after a long, agonizing pause—

You give in.

You set the food down on Maria’s porch.

Then you turn back to Ellie.

"Fine. Let’s go."

Ellie doesn’t speak as she leads you out of Jackson.

She just walks, steps careful, nerves fraying with every second that passes.

She’s not sure what she expected—maybe for you to call her out, demand an explanation.

But you don’t say a word.

You just follow.

Ellie clenches her fists, stomach twisting as she sneaks glances at you.

You look tired.

Tired in a way she’s never seen before.

And fuck, that’s her fault.

She bites her lip hard enough to hurt, turning her gaze back ahead.

Just a little further.

When she finally stops, you hesitate.

Because you recognize this place.

You stare at the grassy clearing, the old tree you used to lean against, the familiar stretch of sky just beginning to darken—

And your heart aches.

Ellie swallows.

"You stopped stargazing."

You flinch.

Ellie watches you carefully, hands twitching with the urge to reach for you, to hold you.

"So I figured..." She clears her throat. "If you weren’t gonna go by yourself, maybe I could—"

"Ellie."

Her heart stutters.

You stare at her, expression unreadable. "You brought me here to stargaze?"

Ellie nods.

You blink.

Then you laugh—quiet, hollow.

"Ellie, you—" You shake your head. "You don’t get to just bring me here and expect everything to be okay."

Ellie flinches. "I know."

"Then why—"

"Because this was ours."

Your breath catches.

Ellie steps closer. "This was ours. And I fucking destroyed everything else we had, but maybe—maybe I can fix this one thing."

You swallow.

Ellie clenches her fists.

"Please, just—sit with me. Just for a little while."

You hesitate.

Then—with an exhausted sigh—you lower yourself onto the grass.

Ellie follows.

And for the first time in weeks, you lie beside each other.

Silence settles between you.

The sky darkens.

And Ellie watches you instead of the stars.

Watches your face slowly relax, your breathing steady as the familiar comfort of the night settles in.

And for a brief, fleeting moment—it almost feels like before.

Almost.

Then—

"Ellie."

Her breath catches.

You finally turn to her, and for the first time since that night at the Tipsy Bison—you let her see the pain.

"I don’t know how to forgive you."

Ellie’s throat tightens.

"I know."

Your gaze flickers.

And for the first time in weeks—Ellie sees it.

The smallest crack in your armor.

The tiniest sliver of hope.

And she clings to it with everything she has.

THE FINAL STEP

Ellie doesn’t rush it.

She doesn’t push, doesn’t press, doesn’t beg.

She just sits there, watching you, watching the way your fingers twitch in the grass like you want to reach for her but don’t trust yourself to.

It’s the closest she’s been to getting you back.

But she won’t ruin it by expecting too much too soon.

So she just nods, forcing her voice to be steady.

"That’s okay."

You blink.

"I don’t care how long it takes," Ellie murmurs. "You don’t have to forgive me now. Or tomorrow. Or next month. Just—just don’t shut me out completely. Please."

Your eyes drop to the grass.

Ellie waits.

And finally—you give the smallest nod.

It’s barely anything.

But it’s enough.

And Ellie swears to herself right then and there that she will never take another inch of your love for granted again.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Ellie walks you home.

You don’t talk much, but you let her be near you.

And maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but Ellie swears she sees a tiny glimpse of you—the real you—when you glance at her before stepping inside.

She doesn’t sleep that night.

She just sits in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling something she hasn’t felt in weeks.

Hope.

THE NEXT MORNING

Ellie is so fucking close to falling back asleep when—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She frowns.

Grabs her knife from under her pillow and trudges toward the door.

She pulls it open, rubbing her eyes—

And pauses.

Because Bill and Frank are standing on her porch.

Ellie blinks. "Uh—?"

"Jesus Christ, kid," Bill grumbles, shoving past her. "You look like death warmed over."

"Thanks?"

Frank enters next, shooting Ellie an amused smile before glancing around. "This is... cozy."

Ellie just stares. "What the hell are you guys doing here?"

Bill sighs dramatically. "Frank wanted to check on you."

"You wanted to check on her too, don’t act tough," Frank says.

Bill ignores him.

Frank turns back to Ellie, tone softer. "We heard you finally got her to talk to you."

Ellie rubs the back of her neck. "Yeah. Kinda. It’s—" she exhales—"It’s slow."*

Bill snorts. "Well, what the fuck did you expect? A goddamn miracle?"

Ellie glares. "No, I just—" she exhales—"I don’t know. I just hate waiting."*

Frank pats her arm. "Well, too bad. You’re in this for the long haul."

Ellie sighs. "Yeah, I know."

Bill crosses his arms. "You sure? 'Cause if you fuck this up again—"

"I won’t." Ellie’s voice is dead serious. "I swear to god, I won’t."

Bill nods approvingly. "Good."

Frank grins. "So. When are we gonna see our favorite girl?"

Ellie freezes.

Then—before she can even think of an answer—

Bill smirks.

"Oh, I like watching you panic."

Ellie groans.

Frank laughs, nudging her. "Relax. We’ll give her time. But when she’s ready?" He raises an eyebrow. "You better make damn sure we’re invited to the reunion."

Ellie grins despite herself.

Because for the first time in weeks, she actually believes there’s going to be one.

THE FINAL PUSH

Ellie doesn’t want to rush you.

She tells herself to be patient, to wait, to let you come back to her in your own time.

But Bill and Frank are assholes.

Because every time she sees them now, they keep fucking reminding her that they’re waiting for the moment she and you are okay again.

"Any day now, kid," Bill grumbles when she sees him at the greenhouse. "I’m getting old."

"You were always old," Ellie mutters, tossing a crate of tomatoes onto the table.

Frank smirks. "You know, if you’re too scared to take the next step, we can always have Joel do it for you."

Ellie glares.

Joel, who’s been conveniently ignoring this conversation, snorts under his breath.

Ellie hates them all.

Because they know she’s dying to see you—to really see you—to hold you again, to kiss you, to remind you that you are the love of her fucking life.

And they’re right—she’s scared.

Because if she pushes too hard, too fast—what if she loses you all over again?

But Joel of all people—Joel, who has barely spoken about this entire thing—finally gives her the push she needs.

"You got one chance, kid," he says later that night when they’re both sitting on the porch. "One good shot to do this right."

Ellie swallows.

Joel side-eyes her. "So what the hell are you waiting for?"

THE REUNION

Ellie finds you at the stables the next morning.

You’re brushing one of the horses, completely in your own world.

And Ellie has to stop for a second—just to look at you.

Because god, she fucking missed you.

It’s been weeks since she’s seen you up close like this—since she’s seen you without the walls, without the careful distance.

She takes a slow breath and steps forward.

"Hey."

You freeze.

Your hands still against the horse’s mane.

Slowly, you turn to her.

"Hey," you say softly.

And Ellie almost breaks down right there because—fuck, your voice.

She takes another step.

Then another.

You don’t back away.

And that’s when she knows.

Knows that this is it—this is the moment she’s been waiting for.

"Can I—?" She gestures vaguely between you two.

You hesitate.

Then, slowly, you nod.

Ellie doesn’t waste a second.

She steps into your space, gently cupping your face, giving you every possible chance to pull away.

But you don’t.

You just stand there, blinking up at her, so fucking soft and familiar and god, she’s never going to hurt you again.

"I’m so sorry," Ellie whispers. "I love you. I love you so fucking much. And I don’t care how long it takes, I’ll spend the rest of my life making this up to you if I have to."

Your breath shudders.

"Ellie..."

"Just—just tell me what you need," she pleads. "Tell me what I can do. Anything, baby. I swear, I'll do anything."

And finally—finally—your eyes soften.

Your shoulders drop.

Your lip wobbles.

And you fall into her arms.

Ellie catches you instantly, holding you, squeezing you, gripping you like she’ll never let go.

Because she won’t.

Never again.

You bury your face in her neck, your breath warm against her skin.

"Don’t be mean to me again," you mumble.

Ellie feels like crying all over again.

"Never," she whispers. "Never again."

And for the first time in weeks, she finally believes it.

EPILOGUE: BILL AND FRANK BEING ASSHOLES, PART 2

Two days later, Ellie and you walk into the Tipsy Bison together.

And the entire town fucking stares.

Then—applause.

Like actual, loud, obnoxious cheering.

Ellie groans, burying her face in your shoulder.

"What the fuck?" she grumbles.

"Told you we were waiting for the reunion," Frank says, grinning from his table.

Bill smirks. "Took you long enough."

Ellie flips them off.

But she’s smiling.

Because you’re here.

And you’re holding her hand.

And she has you back.

THE FINAL HUMILIATION

Ellie tries to act cool about it.

She really does.

But you’re smiling at her.

That soft, warm, real smile that she thought she’d lost forever.

And she can’t help it—she grins like a fucking idiot.

Which is exactly when Jesse whistles and yells across the bar:

"Damn, Ellie, you’re so whipped."

Ellie sees red.

Because fuck Jesse.

And fuck every single person in this goddamn town who’s having the time of their lives watching her fall apart over you.

"You wanna fucking go, Jesse?" she threatens, pulling away from you like she’s actually about to swing.

Jesse laughs his ass off.

Dina is crying from laughter.

Joel just shakes his head like he knew this was coming.

And Bill—Bill fucking smirks.

"Told you," he says to Frank. "She’s hopeless."

Frank sighs, shaking his head in exaggerated disappointment. "Truly pathetic."

Ellie hates them.

But then you giggle.

And fuck.

Ellie melts instantly.

Because that’s the first time you’ve really laughed in weeks.

So she lets it go.

She groans, shaking her head, wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulls you closer like she’ll never let you go again.

"Whatever," she mutters.

And for the first time in forever—everything finally feels right again.

THE WHIPPED REALIZATION

Ellie grumbles for a second. Just for show.

She shakes her head, muttering something about how Jesse is a dead man walking—but then she looks down at you.

At you.

Smiling at her. Loving her.

Forgiving her.

And fuck.

She is whipped.

She’s so fucking whipped that it’s embarrassing.

So she sighs, loudly, and then—she owns it.

"Yeah, okay." She shrugs, tightening her grip around your waist. "I’m fucking whipped. So what?"

Jesse gawks.

Dina chokes on her drink.

Joel rubs a hand down his face like he can’t believe he has to witness this.

Bill groans. “God, kid, have some dignity.”

Frank? Frank is beaming.

"Oh, I love character growth," he says, clapping.

Ellie rolls her eyes—but she’s grinning now.

Because she doesn’t care.

Let them talk. Let them laugh.

She’s got you back in her arms.

And if being completely, utterly, hopelessly whipped is what it takes to keep you there?

She’ll fucking take it.

You tilt your head up at her, smiling softly.

"You are," you tease, voice warm, lighthearted in a way Ellie thought she’d never hear again. "Like… really, really whipped."

Ellie groans, dramatically burying her face in your shoulder.

"Jesus Christ, babe, don’t make it worse."

You laugh—really laugh—giggling as you thread your fingers through her hair.

"Oh, no, I think it’s adorable," you hum, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "My big, scary, grumpy girlfriend—wrapped around my little finger."

The bar erupts in laughter.

Jesse nearly falls off his chair.

Dina is wiping away tears.

Joel? Joel just sighs.

"This is painful to watch," he mutters.

Bill grimaces. "Agreed. Disgusting."

Frank, however, grins proudly.

"No, no, this is beautiful," he says, patting Ellie’s back. "She’s finally embraced the truth."

Ellie groans again.

But she’s smiling.

Because you’re smiling.

And if everyone in this town wants to make fun of her for it?

She doesn’t give a shit.

You’re hers. That’s all that matters.

Ellie huffs dramatically, pulling you even closer like she’s shielding you from all the teasing.

"Alright, alright, laugh it up, assholes," she grumbles, glaring at Jesse, Dina, Bill, and Frank. "Glad my suffering is so entertaining for you."

Jesse wipes a fake tear. "It really is, man. Like, deeply entertaining."

Dina nods, still cackling. "This might be the best night of my life."

Joel just shakes his head.

"You brought this on yourself, kid," he mutters, taking a sip of his drink.

Bill looks at Frank. "You think we should get the shotgun and put her out of her misery?"

Frank gasps, clutching his chest. "Bill! What kind of love story would that be?"

"A merciful one," Bill deadpans.

Ellie groans.

You, meanwhile, are laughing so hard you can barely breathe.

And that sound?

That sound makes every second of public humiliation completely fucking worth it.

Ellie sighs, finally giving in.

"Fine," she mutters, looking down at you with so much love in her eyes that it’s almost embarrassing. "I’m the most whipped person in Jackson."

You grin.

"In Wyoming, probably," you add.

Ellie snorts.

"In the entire fucking world," Jesse corrects.

And at that, Ellie just shakes her head, smiling like an idiot, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Whatever," she murmurs. "As long as I’m yours, I don’t care."

And for the first time in weeks—everything feels perfect again.

n the first place.

Ellie’s throat tightens. She blinks fast, willing herself not to get emotional in front of everyone.

"Yeah," she breathes, voice quieter now, meant only for you.

She leans in, nudging her nose against yours, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

"Yours."

And for the first time in forever—she actually believes she deserves to be.

The moment is so sweet that even Bill and Frank have mercy.

"Alright, alright," Bill mutters, waving a hand. "Show’s over. Let’s get back to drinking before I throw up."

Joel sighs. "Finally."

Jesse smirks, nudging Dina. "Bet you ten bucks Ellie starts crying in the next five minutes."

Dina grins. "Oh, you’re on."

Ellie flips them off without even looking.

Because fuck them.

Right now?

She has everything she needs.

Ellie barely hears anything after that.

The bar is still loud as hell—Jesse and Dina are still laughing, Bill is still muttering something sarcastic to Frank, and Joel is still watching her like he’s mentally filing this whole night away to tease her later.

But Ellie?

Ellie can only focus on you.

The way your arms stay wrapped around her, secure and warm. The way your eyes shine, even in the dim light of the Tipsy Bison. The way you just said okay—like this is real, like this is good again, like she can breathe again.

Ellie cups your face, tilting her forehead against yours.

"You really back?" she whispers.

And you—because you are the single most agonizingly wonderful person she’s ever met—just grin.

"Guess you’ll have to wait and see," you tease.

Ellie groans dramatically, letting her head fall onto your shoulder. "You’re literally evil."

"Yeah, but I’m your evil."

Ellie pulls back just enough to look at you, and she swears she almost fucking cries because—

Yeah.

You’re hers.

And she’s never letting this fall apart again.

"Alright, alright," Frank sighs, clapping his hands together like he’s the host of a reality show. "Romance quota for the night has been exceeded. I need another drink."

"You always need another drink," Bill grumbles.

"And yet, you love me anyway," Frank says smugly, pressing a dramatic kiss to Bill’s cheek.

Bill just grumbles something under his breath, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

Ellie huffs, still holding onto you like it’s instinct.

Joel chuckles. "You sure you ain’t too old to be actin’ like a lovesick puppy?"

Ellie glares. "You sure you ain’t too old to be gettin’ in my business?"

Joel just shakes his head. "Not when it’s this funny."

Dina snickers. "Ellie, be honest. How bad was it?"

Ellie squints. "How bad was what?"

"Sleeping alone."

The entire table bursts into laughter.

Ellie?

Ellie just groans and buries her face in your neck.

You smile into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"It’s okay, babe," you whisper, "You suffered enough."

Ellie lifts her head just enough to look at you.

"Yeah?"

You grin.

"Yeah. I think I’m done punishing you."

Ellie exhales, pulling you in tighter.

"Thank fuck."

Please note that reblog, comments, follows and likes are very much appreciated!

[seenoversundown]

Good For Me

Jake Kiszka x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: FLUFF ROMANCE CUTIE PATOOTIES, mentions of minor injury (blood/bandaging) failed attempts at reservations, insinuation of sex, flirting, more cute stuff, I mean it’s Jake & Char guys.

Word Count: 3k.

Author's Note: I will always take the opportunity to revisit these two 🥹 Their stories practically fall out of my brain onto the metaphorical paper.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Good For Me - Bob Seger 🎶

Jake POV 

“Time to wake up, baby,” her voice was always the best thing to hear when I woke up. Pressing her lips against my temple before she whispers, “Good morning.” 

My eyes hardly open, but I can smell the fresh coffee sitting next to me. Peeking down, I see a tray with a blurry plate of food. 

“Breakfast?” I ask, pulling her face in slowly. “Mmm, you’re too sweet.” Leaving a few kisses on her lips, her laugh is the second-best thing to hear in the morning. 

She carefully slips back into bed with me. I swear she would have fed me if I let her. Romantic little thing she is. It takes a million times longer to get through food when all I want to do is kiss her precious face. 

“Imagine,” she starts, lazily kissing me before finishing her thought. “When we can do this every day.” Hardly hovering over my lips, feeling every word come out. 

“Honey, all you have to do is say the word,” I tell her and I mean it so seriously. The day she wants to move in, I will do whatever I have to in order for her to be comfortable. 

She plays with the ends of my hair for a moment before looking up at me. Her raspy little voice whispered, “Maybe once we’re engaged.” 

“Really?” I ask. Fighting every urge to go pull the ring out from my closet. She would kill me if I proposed today. She loves romcoms, but I think the cliche would take her out. 

“Mhm,” she hums. “Leaving you every few days is hard now— it’ll only be harder after that.” 

All I can do at the moment is kiss her. The fact the ring has been sitting in my closet for so long is killing me, but I have been holding out until she seems more ready for it. She would have been my wife already if it were just up to me. 

“That sounds like a deal to me, Red.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

Getting out of bed proved to be much more difficult today. Neither of us necessarily cared for Valentine’s Day, but we also spoiled each other all the time. Not to say that I didn’t come up with the best plans, because, well, I did. 

“Get some reading in, and then we can dress up.” I lean down, kissing her forehead. “I have everything planned for us tonight.” 

“Oh, do you?” 

“Mhmm,” I hum. Smiling as she stares up at me, running my hand over her head gently. “I have to remind everyone how lucky I am.” 

“Jacob,” she coos as her arms slink around my neck. 

“Mmm, you can keep saying that,” I mumble, practically falling back into bed. “I have to go downstairs for a little bit just to get everything ready so I can be all yours later.” 

She lets out a little sigh, “I’ll miss you.” Pouting that perfect little lip out as she looks at me. 

“Honey, stoooop—“ I start, grazing my thumb over her pout. “I’ll be back before you know it,” I tell her as I start to stand back up. 

“Wait—“ she lets out. I turn around to look at her, with only my jeans pulled on, buttoning them as she rakes her eyes over me. Suddenly, looking at the ceiling and muttering, “Thank you.” 

Through a chuckle, I ask, “who are we thanking?” 

“Cass, God, anybody who will listen,” she tells me.

“For what?” 

She smirks when she says, “For giving me a fine ass man.”

Giggling as I grab a shirt from my closet, I slowly make my way back over to her while I button, just the few bottom ones. Looking at her through my eyebrows and mumbling, “This fine ass man is gonna go to work now. Sooner I get down there, the sooner I’ll be yours for the rest of the night.” 

“Well, what are you waiting for— go!” She rambles out against my lips. “I love you! Don’t get lost! Make good choices!” 

Laughing into her, “I love you.” 

🖤 🖤 ��

The down side of having a few more bartenders now, as opposed to just my family essentially, is that they are significantly more worried about everything. Which I appreciate in a staff, that they want me to be aware of things and don’t want to do something wrong, but god– life was easier when it was just Josh and I. 

I ran through all the possible scenarios and everything seemed normal. Not that the bar gets that busy on Valentine’s Day, but I do want to make sure they are all situated and comfortable before I’m gone for the day. Learning to step away more has been difficult, but when your girlfriend lives a few hours away, you learn quickly to relinquish a little control. 

Hardly a minute goes by, sitting in my office, and my phone starts buzzing. 

“Hi, is this Jacob?” A woman’s voice asks quietly. 

“Yes?” 

“Ahh, I’m so sorry to do this to you today, but–” her voice sounding timid, which doesn’t sit well with me.  “Unfortunately..  we overbooked for this evening.”

“Oh,” practically falls out of my mouth.

She sighs, sounding a bit defeated. “I’m really so sorry. We’re not entirely sure how this happened.” 

  “No, that’s okay. I understand,” I try to sound the least amount of irritated as I can. “Thank you.” 

Fuck. 

Frantically turned on my computer, determined to find a replacement restaurant that we could go to. It wasn’t necessarily crucial that we went there today– I just knew that Char really wanted to go. I’ll take her there next time she’s here for the weekend; that part isn’t a big deal. 

After spending a few minutes googling some options, there are a few that we could go to—calling every single one to make a reservation, just in case. Did I need to do that? No. But I’m not going to let today get messed up. In the midst of a phone call, the flowers I ordered for her were delivered to me. Whispering, thank you as I sign for them; I can’t lie, I do feel a little crazy with the amount of things I’m trying to juggle at the moment. 

Once I have reservations at four different restaurants, I do one more round through the bar and check in with two who are working, making sure they feel comfortable. 

“Just call me if you need me, but I know you two can handle it.” 

Running upstairs, flowers in hand and things are finally feeling like they’re back on track. Sneaking inside, it’s a little embarrassing how excited I always am to see her. 

Calling out to her as I walk through the door, “Honey?” 

She walks out from the hallway, wrapped in a towel but her make up and hair are perfectly done. Her eyes lighting up as she looks at me. I don’t think there will be a day where she doesn’t leave me speechless. 

“Um,” I hesitate, as if this is the first time I’ve seen her like this. “I got these for you.” 

She reaches out, taking the little bundle of flowers from me, “You’re too sweet.” Leaning against my chest and kissing my cheek, but quickly wiping her thumb over the spot. She quietly giggles, “Apparently, this lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.” 

“You can make a mess of me later,” I whisper to her, tilting her chin up so I can lightly kiss her. “What are you wearing tonight?” 

She tugs me along with her back to my room, grabbing a short black dress off my bed. My head may as well have been spinning when she dropped her towel. Watching her slip into this tight little dress. The satin hugging every part of her body and I have to refrain from being too excited about it. 

“Can you–” she starts to ask but just turns around so I can finish zipping the back for her. And at the end of the day, I’m still a man. Leaning down, leaving a few kisses on her shoulder and creeping up her neck. 

“You’re unreal,” I mumble next to her ear. 

She pulls out a black button-up for me, but I have to make sure she’s just as excited as I am. Grabbing my rings from my nightstand and slipping them on, and naturally pulling out my nicer watch. Letting her help me put it on, not because I needed the help, but feeling her hands on me in any way is everything I want. 

“Baby,” Char’s voice rings from behind me as I’m spraying a little more cologne. Turning to her, she’s holding my phone out. 

It’s one of the bartenders. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

Her voice sounds timid as she says, “Hey, there’s a uh.. situation down here.” 

My eyes shut tightly, asking, “What kind of situation?” Char’s eyebrows shoot up as she watches me. 

“Well, um,” she hesitates. “We were just prepping some things, and she may have slipped a little with a knife while she was cutting up some limes and–”

My head falls back, trying not to get mad, “I’ll be right there.” 

“Is everything okay?” Char’s voice is quiet. 

I let out a long breath, shaking my head gently as I looked at her. “There was a lime cutting incident.” Grabbing both of her hands, I tell her, “I’m so sorry. I just need to go make sure she’s okay real quick.” 

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, slipping one of her hands away to smooth out my brows. Not realizing how stressed I actually looked. “Just do what you need to do.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

The way it was explained over the phone was definitely a sugar-coated version of what I walked into. Grateful that the bar wasn’t overloaded with people, but seeing one of your bartenders completely pale trying to mix drinks is not the best look. 

“Hey, come with me,” I tap her arm. Walking her to the back room, and having her just sit on the floor for me. “Can I look at it?” 

She nods, and I can see the way she’s fighting the tears. Unwrapping the paper towel bandage she’d made for herself, it was not a pretty sight. That looks like it fucking hurts. Draping the paper towel back over it, I quickly grab everything from the first aid box we have. 

“I’m gonna redo this, okay?” I ask, but it’s really more of a telling situation. “It’s probably going to be uncomfortable, and you can cuss me out if you want. I just don’t need you getting infected.” 

Looking at her, still white as a ghost but letting out a small laugh. 

“I’m sorry,” I let out as I started wiping off the nasty cut. Seeing her wince makes me stop for a second, so I’m not making her completely miserable. Even after the little break, I carefully try to clean it as much as I can, but it’s a pretty deep cut. Lifting her hand so I can make sure to clean off any extra blood that may have dripped, but moving it must have been the last straw when I hear the sad exhale. 

The tears finally escaped, and I can’t deny that I’m impressed with how long she lasted. She looks like a mess between me trying to clean up one hand, and then she’s still regaining color in her face, and now she’s crying. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” I whisper. Moving a bit quicker with the rest of it; dropping a tiny bit of ointment into the pad of the bandaid and wrapping it fairly tight around her finger. “There you go- it’s over.” 

Watching as she cries into her not damaged hand for a second, my heart hurts for her. She’s hardly over twenty-one and very sweet; I’ve been lucky that she goes to college nearby, even if she only works part-time. I can’t make her stay after this. 

“Why don’t you go home? We can figure out a different night for you,” I tell her, gently rubbing her arm, hoping it’ll help calm her down. “Let me get you some water so you can come back to life before you drive, though.” 

Me: that was horrific 

Char: oh no :( is she okay now? 

Me:  better but I’m sending her home

Me: she started crying I can’t make her stay 

It only took a little bit for her to seem a bit more stable, but I sat with her until she looked alive enough to drive home. Meanwhile, I had been texting everyone else, trying to find someone to come in on short notice. 

The only option right now is to see if Josh can get here early enough for me to escape. But I know those lovebirds are probably off and in a different universe at this point. Which I can’t fault him for, I did give him the day off.  

The customers start rolling in, I glance over at the bartender I have left, “Hey, I’m just gonna go call Charlotte real quick. I’ll be right back.”

She throws me a thumbs-up before walking over to someone who’s about to sit down. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry,” the only way I’d describe how I sound is desperate. “I’ll make it up to you.”

She almost laughs, “It’s okay.”

“No, no, it’s not. I had this whole thing and-” I start to rattle off my plan when she cuts me off. 

“Baby, I’m not mad at you.” I couldn’t ask for a better woman in my life, I swear to god. She sweetly asks,  “Do you want me to help with anything?”

“Honey, no, absolutely not,” I tell her. Disappointed isn’t a strong enough word for how I felt when I told her, “I’ll try to get someone to come in for the rest of the night if I can, but I’m not sure if that’s going to happen.”

Her voice was still calm, telling me, “Just do what you have to, okay? I love you.” 

🖤 🖤 🖤

The rest of the night was like a blur. More people ended up coming in than I would have expected on a romantic holiday, but I guess where else do you go when you’re single on Valentine’s Day but a pirate-themed bar? 

Grateful for the bartender that I did have tonight; she absolutely handled the crowd better than I expected after the way her shift started. Nobody deserves to play doctor when they aren’t prepared for it. I tipped her out as quickly as possible so she could get home and sleep off the chaos that she dealt with. 

Standing there, listening to Night Moves as usual, while I shut down the POS when I can feel the energy in the room shift. 

“Hey,” Char’s voice softly graces my ears from behind me.

“Hey you,” I let out before asking, “What are you doing down here?” Reaching my hand out to her, pulling her in close.

“I have an idea,” She tells me quietly. “Just finish whatever you need to.” Kissing my cheek but not wiping it off this time. 

“You look beautiful, by the way,” I tell her as she sneaks off down the hall. 

It’s only a few minutes before I have everything taken care of behind the bar, and she’s been scurrying around the whole time. I wouldn’t have guessed her plan in a million years. 

Walking over to the corner booth, a candle lit in the middle of it with a little charcuterie board next to it. Her favorite throw blanket was tossed onto the seat. Feeling her hands slide around my waist from behind, turning me around to her. 

“I made us some food since you got stuck down here,” She says quietly, fixing my collar and scooting the chain of my necklace so the clasp is behind me again. She winks at me when she says, “I figured you would have drinks covered.”

“Of course,” my voice and eyes soften as I look at her.  “What would you like, honey?” 

“I think Valentine’s Day calls for wine,” she gently taps my lips a few times before sliding into the booth. 

Walking back with our wine, I hand hers over, “For you.” Sliding into the booth with her, trying not to laugh at the way she had her legs wrapped up in the blanket. 

“So, what happened with the lime incident?” she asks. 

Taking a couple minutes to explain what happened, without saying anything too gross. I don’t want to ruin the mood or our ability to eat. 

“Enough about work,” I breathe out, grabbing one of her hands and kissing the back of it. “I love you. I’ll still find a night to take you out.” 

“I’m just happy to see you,” she beams at me. “Especially when you’re dressed like this.” 

She very intentionally and obviously checks me out, hitting me with a cheesy little wink after. God, I love her. I can’t resist kissing her a few times, giggling into each other like we always have. It’s like the honeymoon stage never went away with this girl. 

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” I tell her, feeling a bit guilty at how late it is.

Her hand cups my jaw as she looks at me, “You looked so sad earlier. I couldn’t let the day be a complete fail.” 

My head tilts, leaning into her hand as my eyes shut, just soaking up the moment. Laughing as I tell her, “I swear one of these years I’ll get better at this.” 

“Well, lucky for you— we have a lot of Valentine’s Days ahead of us,” she giggles. 

I glance around the room for a second, looking back over to her, “We could still make this one memorable.” Wiggling my eyebrows at her, and her eyes light up at it. 

“In here?” 

“Like our first time,” I whisper, letting my hand slide up her thigh. 

Her arms slip around my neck, smiling into a kiss before whispering, “Aye, aye, Captain.” 

For Death Or Glory Masterpost

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[itstova]

Valentine’s Day.

it was a day you cared to forget. as with most days. things weren’t the same without him. the evenings you would spend laying on his chest, listening to him sing is now filled with dreaded silence. you have yet to set foot back into his office. things are exactly as he left them.

It was hard but everyday you picked yourself up to try and conquer the day. that was until something strange happened. while make lunch after finishing up some work on your computer, your doorbell chimed. you looked over to the security camera and notice no one was there but someone left something at your door. You were quite hesitant at first about opening the door but when you did you was it was a bouquet of two dozen roses with a small note attached.

“to my person, I’ll love you forever and always”

your eyes grew wide as you read the card, cause their was only one person to ever call you that but you knew it was unlikely. he was gone. you turn and take the roses onto the house and prepare two separate vases for them. One in the kitchen and one in your bedroom. after that moment you never really thought to much about who sent the flowers with the message but it did always linger in the back of your mind from time to time.

the following year, on Valentine’s Day , your walking home from the grocery store and you notice on your front porch there are another bouquet of roses. With a note attached. Just as the ones you received last year. You take your groceries into the house and go back to retrieve the flowers and the note read the same as before.

“to my person, I’ll love you forever and always”

you sit the flowers down on the table in your foyer and go to check the security cameras to see if you could see who brought them. but for whatever reason your camera stopped working. So you still didn’t have an idea of who it could be. so you just simply put them away but your senses was heightened because you weren’t sure if it was an admirer or someone with bad intentions setting a trap. You had been on edge ever since that evening you can’t stand to relive.

as the months turned into years. every year for 5 years valentines, like clockwork you received two dozen roses with the same note every year. but this year, year 6 was different the note said.

“together or apart, you will always have my heart , xoxo ken”

you’re eyes widened. your heart skipped a beat. Could this be.? no it couldn’t . You look at the paper surrounding the flowers and realize it’s from the local flower shop not to far from your house. You grab your keys and rush out the door. With a small inclination that maybe, just maybe he had somehow returned but when you walked in only the older gentleman who owns the shop, his grandson, and a few patrons were present.

“You finally came” the shop owner said. Looking at you with warm eyes. “Excuse me”. he reaches under his desk and hand you an envelope with his stamp on it. “for you”. you ran your fingers across the seal, reminiscing of him all over again before tearing into the letter.

My Dearest Princess,

If love could defy time, I would be at your side even now. The weight of distance, of absence, is nothing compared to the way my soul lingers beside you. I miss you in ways words cannot capture—your voice, your warmth, the quiet moments that made life worth more than duty and obligation.

Even though I am gone, know this: I will always be with you. In the whisper of the wind against your skin, in the golden light of the morning sun, in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat—I am there. You were my peace in a world of chaos, and my love for you is eternal.

Be strong, my princess. Live, love, and find happiness. That is my only wish.

Yours, always and forever,

Kento

your heart sank. tears welled in your eyes. “h..how did you get this” you ask the owner in a shaky voice. “the day before he left for his mission, he came by and asked for some blank cards and bought all those roses”. you traced your finger across the letter , trying to hold back the tears that so desperately wanted to break free. “he told me to promise him that if he was not to return, make sure you knew he will always love you” the owner spoke ,placing a soft hand on your shoulder.

A broken sob escaped your lips as you clutched the letter to your chest, as if holding it tighter could bring him back. The weight of his words settled deep in your heart, each sentence a reminder of the love he left behind—love that would never fade, even in his absence.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for one of the roses, its petals slightly wilted but still carrying the faintest trace of his presence. He had thought of you until the very end. Even knowing what lay ahead, his last act was ensuring you would never question how much you meant to him. Tears finally slipped down your cheeks, silent yet heavy with grief and love. The owner gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before stepping away, leaving you alone with the echoes of a love that would never truly be lost.

With a deep, shaky breath, you whispered, “I love you too, Kento.”And in the quiet, you almost swore you could hear his voice—soft, steady, and unwavering.

“I know, my princess.”