#I know it doesn’t matter in the end as long as I pass the class

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Yeah so that was fucking awful

[drunkenlionwrites]

alright curveball what typical archetype would boothill be in a high school setting and what would he be like with his partner >:) (hc format please)

Boothill HS AU headcanons:

OMG OMG nonnie, that’s such a cool ask. I honestly would’ve not thought about this concept myself, cause school was so so long ago for me, but I’ve got the vision of HS Boothill right away when I read it💖 CW: none, g/n reader

So Boothill as the archetype would be ‘the classmate who looks like a local thug but is actually the kindest soul.’

Imagine your classmate who is not really studious and can disrupt the lesson by loudly laughing and talking in class and does this 5/5 days per week. He’s loud and brush and sometimes vulgar.

Once, he kicked and cussed out the vending machine out in hallway so loudly when you passed by that it made you physically jump. Even though he’s noticed that and tried to apologize to you, calling out your name through the hall, since that time you’ve decided that you don’t like him.

You are slightly annoyed by this and never approach him, but he’s got a big presence in school, so you see and hear things about him from time to time, though you don’t know which rumors are true and which are not. Some of them sound crazy: once he beat 4 to 5 upperclassmen alone. Some say it was 10 of them. Some say he’s got something on the principal; hence he doesn’t get in trouble with anyone. Some say it’s cause he’s the principal’s kid. Or lover. Those all sound crazy and unrealistic, but who knows?

Once you see him really beating up someone behind the school building with your own eyes. You stand there and watch for a bit, thinking about reporting this to someone, but then you notice Boothill coming up to a smaller kid, sitting on the ground not far away, comforting him and picking up his bag, helping the kid to pack the contents inside. You just hear never-ending ‘thank you’s in between small sobs and Boothill’s warm laughter afterwards.

Another day, you hear him quarrelling loudly with a teacher, which sounded again completely disrespectful from his side. Later, from murmurs around school you learn that he stood up for the shyer kid when he thought that they were unjustly reprimanded.

Once you saw him in the street after school on the day when he was missing, presumably staying in sick or something. He shouted out your name from the tree, causing you to flinch again. Turns out, he spent hours trying to get one stubborn kitty to come to him, skipping classes cause of it.

It was a bit awkward when you started dating, cause being in his orbit meant that you too became more known in school and began noticing stares and hearing whispers about you.

Boothill is a total sweetheart with you, even though he can be slightly obnoxious and is not good at reading the mood from time to time. It doesn’t matter since his positive outlook and mostly always good mood is oh so infectious.

He’s also very physical, not minding the pda at school. Walking with you holding your hand, hugging from behind etc.

He doesn’t mind spending the whole day at school attempting to study, especially if you’re a diligent student. Though he is a student who’s always ready to and will bail classes and will try to talk you into skipping school with him cause it’s just too much fun stuff happening outside that seems much more important to him.

I see the dynamic as a he’s a good influence in terms for teaching his s/o to be more assertive and confident in themselves and in return being the one who needs to be stopped and calmed out a bit when he acts on a whim.

[silverflqmes]

agszc and the WAY THEY SAY I LOVE YOU CAUSE I'M STILL SCREAMING OVER CLOUD'S DATING HCS YOU MADE SNSKDJKD

໒⦂ ( 𝐒𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ) 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

notes. you might be confused with the use of parenthesis but it’s exactly what you think.. not all of them ACTUALLY say those words.. read and see🫡

genre. fluff + angst ( sephiroth’s )

for @melukonova <3

ft. sephiroth, cloud strife, zack fair, genesis rhapsodos, angeal hewley

disclaimer. ok, poetry IS NOT my strong suit, from time to time i experiment with it but i am not the best at it so keep criticism tame please..

gender neutral! reader.

➫ 𝓢𝗘𝗣𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗢𝗧𝗛 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ sephiroth’s confession would be something that requires patience. he doesn’t have much experience with love, as he wasn’t exposed to it much throughout his life.

⌗ it doesn’t mean he’s incapable of feeling it, rather, it’s a matter of him truly realizing those feelings he has and how deep they run. now the way those words come out.. would likely be influenced by heightened emotions.

a beat of silence passed before the the silver haired hero closed the door, turning to face you with an expression you weren’t certain his features were even capable of making. “what were you thinking??”

he was distressed, brows knitted together as you watched his chest rise and fall unevenly, each breath more irregular than the last. you assumed it was anxiety — something you’d never associated with sephiroth.. until now, that was. “i was doing my job, an injury or few is unavoidable at times, you know that.” came your mumble, feeling your own brows furrow.

of course he knew that, the top hero knew that better than anyone.. but this. “there are other ways to get things done, what you did today was completely reckless — as though you had no care whatsoever for your life.” he argued, moonlight bangs swishing from right to left when his head shook. “you could have died!”

now it was your turn to get frustrated as you stood up from your place despite your aching muscles, walking up to his broad frame. “and that’s suddenly an issue now? our line of work demands for us to risk our lives everyday no matter the mission! we both knew this going into our relationship, so why are you suddenly so worked up over this??” you matched his tone, not fond of the approach he’d taken in addressing you.

“because i nearly lost you!” he shouted, overcome with emotions so powerful, he couldn’t even stop the onyx, gloved hands that flew to your shoulders, clinging desperately to something.. something even he didn’t know of.

his breath stuttered as he lowered his head, trembling in his place. “i can’t.. i-i can’t have you leave me, too…” the first class SOLDIER whispered in a voice so broken, so defeated, you had to remind yourself that behind this towering, imposing powerhouse.. was a human being, with feelings of his own, no matter how well he hid them. a human that knew loss, and an unwelcomed amount of it.. and feared more of it.

unsure of what to do, you pulled him down into a hug, feeling your anger fade into nothingness as you allowed your eyes to close. “i won’t, not ever.”

➫ 𝓒𝗟𝗢𝗨𝗗 𝓢𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗙𝗘 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ he says get help but he’s the one that needs help.. bro just, he can’t say it — he’s too embarrassed and he just doesn’t rlly know how to bring it across properly..

⌗ in the end, he opts for a more subtle method that aerith had once told him about. it required minimal speech on his end, and called for actions to take the reigns — perfectly up his alley.. as long as you got the memo.

“cloud?” you called out in surprise, turning to find a familiar spiky haired blond with an ivory colored flower in between his gloved fingers.

his lightly tanned cheeks were dusted with a tint of pink, seemingly reddening as he held out his hand, averting his gaze. “you said you wanted me to bring you something back from my delivery in sector five.. figured i’d bring something you don’t find everyday here.”

your knowledge of flowers was minimal, as midgar.. wasn’t exactly filled with them. you only rarely saw them from a distance, and on the occasions that you had, normally they were too pricey to purchase.

somehow, however, the owner of strife delivery services seemed to have gotten his hands on one singular flower. when you’d ask for a small souvenir from his travels, it had been a joke, simply you joshing like you normally had with him.. though it appeared this time, that he had taken it seriously.

you cleared your throat, letting out a sheepish laugh. “you didn’t have to do that, but thank you — i’ve.. never received a flower before, much less held one..” you confessed in a soft tone, taking the bloom from his grasp as you brought it close to your face.

even without leaning in to take in its scent, the sweetness greeted your senses as a smile etched itself onto your lips. “aah~ it smells wonderful, what kind of flower is it??”

he rubbed his neck at the question, feeling himself grow more nervous by the second. “it’s um.. it’s called gardenia. aerith’s mom insisted i took one back with me, since they were the newest edition to her garden.. said something about it having a deeper meaning, too.” cloud spoke up, finally lifting his mako-azure eyes to meet yours.

you lowered the flower in your hands, tilting your head. “deeper meaning? i didn’t think flowers were so complex.” you snickered into your free hand before grinning brightly at him. “but, go on. i’m curious!”

the tips of his ears seemed to burn with red as his lips parted before he turned his back to you, folding his arms. “o-on second thought, i forgot..”

“WHAT?? no way, it must be good if you won’t say! come on cloud!” you urged him, moving in front of him to see his face, but all you caught was the faintest smile as he continued to turn away. so cryptic!

➫ 𝓩𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝓕𝗔𝗜𝗥 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ zack uh- as we can tell, he isn’t exactly the ‘think before you speak’ kinda guy — whatever comes out, comes out.. with no regard to how blunt or sudden it might end up sounding.

⌗ now how would that apply to a confession? well, i think he would just say it without even thinking of the impact behind his words. it would just come out naturally, casually.. and you would end up staring like- did he fr just say that??

a sigh left your lips as you turned the page of the newest issue you’d picked up of shinra’s very own magazine, because what didn’t the prestigious electric company have to their name?

meanwhile zack was busying himself with yet another set of squats, clearly antsy. missions had been quiet as of late, mundane even. at the moment, you were both occupying the second class floor, waiting for orders.. but nothing came.

a groan left the nicknamed puppy’s lips as he halted his movements before draping finally himself onto the spot on the couch you hadn’t occupied. “man i bet the firsts are out kicking ass! they really don’t have anything for us to do here??”

you licked your thumb to flip to the next spread, humming. “unless you feel like getting involved with professor hojo’s questionable ass tasks, i’d rather sit here in boredom.” you confessed, missing the grimace on his face since your eyes remained on the passage you had been reading.

“i guess you have a point.. but still.” he pouted, leaning into your face as a means of getting your attention. “can’t we go ask lazard?? he’s gotta have something by now for us, right?!”

a laugh seemed to leave your lips at his complaints as you lifted your eyes at last to meet his zircon ones, a smile stretching across your lips. “and, what? have him tell us no for the fifth time in the last two hours?”

his appendages seemed to part in protest before they jutted out once more. “w-well! for all we know a mission could have popped up on that computer of his right now! with angeal and them gone, they’re bound to ask us! i’m sure of it!” the second class SOLDIER insisted, clenching his fists in determination. “come on, y/n! it beats reading whatever propaganda you’re reading!”

it was partly true, shinra’s magazine went on and on about sephiroth’s feats if it wasn’t already in the daily paper or news. and one look at those puppy eyes had you crumbling. damn him for that effortlessly adorable face..

“fine, we’ll ask one last time.. but if he says no, you owe me a drink from the vending machine since i paid last time!” you huffed out, tossing your copy back on the the coffee table as you stood up with your hands on your hips.

as though sparkles had appeared in his eyes, zack hopped to his feet before engulfing you in a tight hug. “for real?? you’re the best, y/n!! i love you! i love you! i love you!!”

➫ 𝓖𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦 𝓡𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗦 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, the romantic and the one that does too much because everyone else ain’t doing enough ( his words ) — genesis. you can expect a very enigmatic brain scratching confession..

⌗ or in other words, the cheesiest kind of confession that involves poetry, some form of incorporation with loveless, and just some frivolous display of his affections for you in case you don’t pick up on the hints..

“y/n, my dear! won’t you hang back awhile? our work is done for today.. perhaps you’ll indulge me in a piece i worked on, hm?” the redhead spoke up, causing you to pause in your tracks as you blinked over at him.

a piece? “you mean.. poetry?” you inquired for certainty, surprised that he had the spare time to be writing something. “i’m not the best at deciphering metaphors and whatnot.. but i’d be willing to hear what you have.” you smiled, eager to see what he had been working on in his free time.

“not to worry!” he waved you off, pulling out a small notebook from his long coat. “even the foolish and emotionally unintelligent, like our beloved sephiroth could understand!” genesis laughed out, fearless of his friend — or in his eyes, rival — as usual.

you let out a nervous chuckle as you pulled up a chair to hear what he’d prepared, praying that your silver haired friend did not hear.. not that he would care, anyway. just genesis being genesis.. “well um, i’ll do my best to somewhat comprehend what you wrote.” you offered, anyway, placing your hands on your lap as a means of resting them.

the male dressed in crimson took it as a sign to commence, lifting his fist up to clear his throat before holding up his poem. “in a bed of asters, the tears of the goddess.. blossoms a favored one amidst a world or filth and endless disasters — a beauty that wears star formed petals for a bodice..and adorns droplet shaped blades of which its creator once wept.” genesis paused, trailing a finger down to the next line. “one day, a new flower would emerge — tall, scarlet, and proud.. tenderly well kept, and yet.. as sorrowed as a rain cloud.”

you almost wanted to question why, curiosity overtaking you despite the urge to giggle at a few.. choice of words he made. how couldn’t you when it was so reminiscent of the usual reciting he did of his most favorite work of literature.

compelled by your zealousness, you fed into your inquisitiveness. “why was it sorrowed?”

a soft chuckle tumbled past his lips at the awe in your voice as he closed the book with a low hum. “for it was loveless, without its starry accomplice.. that bloomed on a path far away enough to diverge.” he finished gently before sliding a hand to your cheek. “nevertheless, that is but fiction.. as our paths will remain entwined, and my heart shall not bleed with my beloved star around.”

➫ 𝓐𝗡𝗚𝗘𝗔𝗟 𝓗𝗘𝗪𝗟𝗘𝗬 ୨୧ ˎˊ˗

⌗ ah, yes, the confession of his love.. yet another unspoken way of proclaiming his feelings for you, although i believe his method may just be a little more meaningful.. but just a little.

⌗ however, what would call for the confession exactly, and the realization of his feelings? personally, i believe it’d have either been something in the heat of the moment — in other words, you being in danger, or perhaps.. an inquiry, in regards to the buster sword glued to his back.

“earlier..” your began, eyeing your lover with a curious gaze. “that was the first i’d ever seen you draw the buster sword.. for the longest time, i convinced myself it was decorative, or something.. but there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

the rag in angeal’s hand came to a pause at the question, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “i remember zack asking me that several times before and i still haven’t presented him with a proper answer.” he mused, eyes softening as he gazed upon his weapon. “growing up, my family was not one for riches. we had enough to get by, thankfully, but making money was hard work on my parents — specifically my father.”

a breeze passed through the few strands of hair that frames his face as he gazed upon the sky. “still, he had wanted to gift me something for passing the SOLDIER exam, and had this forged for me.” he smiled gently, closing his eyes. “it took him a very long time to recover financially for his debts in having this buster made, so long that it cost him his very life in the end..” the first class SOLDIER spoke up, allowing his eyes to lower back down to the blade in his hands. “and so, i do my best to avoid bringing any wear, tear or rust upon it.. as it represents not only my dreams and honor, but the efforts and sacrifice for its creation.” he finished steadily, finally meeting your stare. “but for you, i would draw it without a second thought.”

your boyfriend was already impressive to begin with- the most humble and noble person you had come to know.. but this? it had left you in complete awe to know how sentimental he truly was, despite his stoic demeanor. and for him to have used his beloved weapon to shield you from harm — what did that mean? that he.. held you in higher regard than it..?

“you.. you would do that for me?” your inquiry was stupid, as he had done it once already, earlier in fact.. but angeal nodded, regardless, the small smile on his lips expanding, even if it was just a pinch wider.

“if it guarantees your safety.. in a heartbeat.” he answered with little delay, a fondness in his mako tinted eyes — one that he only ever really showed to you.

notes. zack being the only one who actually says i love you verbatim.. meanwhile the others are cryptic and expect you to guess ( cloud.. genesis.. ) or say it without needing to say those three words.. crazy tbh

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[actuallysaiyan]

BACONNNNNNN I HAVE A REQUESTTTTTTTTTTTT

can we get some choso and reader trying to fuck discreetly at a party? 🤭 them being caught or not is up to you 😘😉

warnings: alcohol, smoking weed, vaginal fingering, Choso is a little cocky but mostly cause he's scared to fuck shit up, college AU, unprotected sex, swearing word count: 1.8k pairings: Choso Kamo x Fem!Reader summary: you meet Choso at a party and something magical happens when the two of you decide to find a quiet room to hang out in.

The music is loud as you walk amongst the party-goers. You’ve been searching for someone in particular, but you haven’t seen him yet. He’s not much for parties, but he had assured you he’d be coming. Still, you were starting to have your doubts about this.

You grab a drink from the fridge, opening the can and sipping on its sweet contents. It’s one of those super popular mixed cocktails all the college kids are going crazy for lately. It’s a little too sweet for your taste, but it’s not bad right now. You’re a little buzzed and you know you need a bit more liquid courage if you were to see him.

You see a flash of dark brown hair and your heart skips a beat. There he is, Choso Kamo. The one you’ve been pining for all year long. The can shakes in your hands as you try to follow him, finding him heading out the backdoor to take in some fresh air. You know he doesn’t smoke, but enjoys the company of the smokers as they are all pretty decently chill.

You sink the contents of the can so fast, your stomach lurches as the alcohol splashes in your tummy. Then with shaky steps, you walk over to the backdoor. Without thinking twice, you exit the building and let the cool night air envelop you. It almost sobers you up as you feel yourself shivering. Choso smirks as he spots you, then he walks over to you to drape his sweater over your shoulders.

“It’s chilly out tonight,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

You giggle, “Yeah it is.”

You realize there’s hardly anyone else out here. Just a few stragglers trying to suck on their cancersticks in peace. Choso pulls something from his pocket and you smirk when you realize he’s brought a joint. Oh, so he does smoke…just not cigarettes.

“You smoke?” he asks, showing you the joint.

You nod your head, “A little.”

Your mouth goes dry as you watch him bring the joint to his lips. He looks hot even just doing something as simple as lighting a joint. He takes a few drags, his eyes drooping slightly as the weed takes its effect on him. Then he steps closer to you and passes the joint to you.

The conversation flows between you two comfortably. He asks about your classes and you complain about the amount of projects you have. Choso talks at great length about his own projects and the books he’s been reading. As you two chat and smoke the joint, you begin to realize just how much the two of you have in common.

It’s not long before he’s flicking the end of the cherry off the balcony. Then with a smirk on his face, he leans in a little closer. You feel his hot breath on your face and you feel need pooling in your lower tummy.

“Wanna find somewhere a little more private to continue this conversation?”

You should say no, and maybe tell him that you ought to go home for the night. But for the first time in so long, you were getting your chance with him. So in a low voice, you manage to agree to this. He takes your hand in his, leading you back into the party. Everyone is already so drunk and high, and the people dancing are almost pulsing to the beat of the catchy hip hop song.

Choso keeps a tight grip on you so as not to lose you. He manages to maneuver through the drunkards and ditzy girls. At the end of one of the hallways, Choso pulls you into one of the empty bedrooms. He closes the door behind you and then guides you to sit on the bed.

He takes a flask from his sweater pocket, the sweater you’re still wearing, and he opens it up and takes a swig. He passes it to you, a mischievous grin on his face. You take the flask from him and take a swig. It’s some very strong gin, which makes you cough and gag.

“Heh, yeah that’s some strong stuff.”

You shudder slightly when his big hand comes up to rub your back soothingly. Then his hand slides down your arm, only to go right back up so he can cup your cheek.

“You’re so pretty, ya know that?”

His words almost sound foreign to you. You have to think it over in your mind over and over again before his chuckle pulls you out of the funk. Then he just leans in and closes the gap between you two.

His lips are chapped but they feel so good against your own. You find some courage and you begin leaning into this kiss. His hands feel so good on your face as he cups your cheeks. You can’t help the moan that escapes you when his tongue slides into your mouth.

Just as you’re about to deepen the kiss, you hear some knocking on the door. Then a head pokes in, but the moment they see you and Choso, they close the door. There is some laughter, but you know it has to do more with them being embarrassed than you.

“Don’t pay them any mind,” Choso says as he helps you lay down on the bed. “Just focus on me.”

You don’t know what else to say, so you just nod your head and swallow your saliva. Choso smirks again before diving down to kiss you. This kiss is a bit hungrier and it’s paired with one of his hands caressing your body. He doesn’t linger on one spot for too long before moving onto the next.

You’re thinking he’s being coy about this when his hand shoves down your pants. You gasp into the kiss as his long fingers brush against your clothed cunt. Choso loves the sounds you make as he begins rubbing your swollen nub. Your panties begin clinging to your folds as he stimulates you even more.

“You like that, huh? I always thought you’d be into this sort of thing.”

His words do all kinds of things to you. Your mind is a mess as he continues playing with your panty-clad pussy. Then it gets even more intense as he pushes your panties aside. You moan his name when one of his fingers slides into you.

“Shhh…you gotta be a little more quiet than that, sweetheart.”

Choso isn’t quite sure where all this confidence is coming from, but he’s so glad he’s not completely fumbling. It must have something to do with the alcohol and weed he smoked. He’s thanking his lucky stars you’re into him just as much as he’s into you.

He pumps another one of his fingers into you to join the other, leaving you breathless and grasping the sheets below you. You throw your head back as his thumb comes up to rub your clit, making you drip all over his hand.

“How about we take this a little further, huh?”

His breath smells like gin and weed, and in that moment, it’s the most sexy thing you’ve ever experienced. You nod your head dumbly, your eyes rolling back with every pump of his fingers.

“Nah, you gotta say it. Say the words, baby.”

You swallow hard again, and try to think of the right words to say. It was becoming increasingly harder and harder as he continued to finger you. His long fingers curling to press against that spongy spot deep inside you that made you see stars.

“Fuck me, Cho. Please Cho…”

His cock throbs when you beg and you say his name so sweetly like that. It was going to be hard to resist you if you were going to be this cute every time he would fuck you. Choso knows not to push his luck, but he knows he’ll take the chance again if need be.

He’s quick to pull your pants and panties down. His mouth widens as he sees your cute little pussy on display. As much as he wants to taste you, he knows he’s got not enough time for this. He spreads your legs and then he’s pushing down his own pants past his ass.

“Ready for me?” Choso asks in a teasing tone, rubbing the head of his cock all over your soaked folds.

“Please, don’t tease me. I’m ready.”

With one long thrust, he’s balls deep inside of you. He thinks for a split second that he probably should have put on a condom, but you don’t seem to have any problems with him going in raw. His hips snap fast and hard from the get go, leaving you breathless. You cling to him as the pleasure builds so fast.

“Fuck, you’ve got the best little pussy, ya know that?”

His face is buried in the crook of your neck as he tries to quiet himself. You’re both moaning and whimpering, doing all you can to not draw too much attention to yourselves. The pleasure just feels so good. Choso can’t believe your little cunt is gripping him quite like this. It’s so tight and warm, he can’t help but pound you into the mattress.

“Fuuuuuccckkk,” Choso moans out as he presses himself even deeper into you. “Fuck fuck fuck—”

You feel him biting into the tender flesh of your neck to quiet himself even more. You cry out his name, nails coming up to dig into his shirt. You’re trying to keep yourself grounded, but it’s all too much.

“Tightest little pussy ever! Fuuuck you feel so good.”

Your walls begin pulsing around him as the fat tip of his cock keeps slamming into that sweet spot of yours. You’re not even sure how you’re keeping quiet right now, especially when he’s fucking you so good.

You watch as he leans back a little, pulling out just a bit and he spits on your cunt. You shudder as his fingers begin to rub the saliva on your clit, and his pace picks up again quicker than before. Flames lick in your lower tummy, and your mind begins to go blank from the sensations.

“Haaah, look at you. Fuckin’ you dumb, aren’t I? Damn, gonna have to make you my little princess.”

You nod eagerly, tears stinging your eyes as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening impossibly tight. Choso smirks as he watches you come undone. Your gummy walls begin to milk him, and Choso pulls out just in time to jerk himself off to completion. Ropes of hot cum cover your mound and lower belly. Choso then sits back on his knees, admiring his handiwork.

What surprises you is when he leans in and gives you such a tender kiss.

“I meant what I said,” he smirks. “Gonna have to make you my little princess.”

[azsazz]

Brains and Bravado

Kinktober Day 12: Dorian x Reader [Hate-Fucking]

Summary: Anon Req: For kinktober I would like to see either Rowan or Dorian! Maybe reader doesn’t get along with him but they have hate sex a lot and secretly like each other, however, they’re too stubborn (their pride) to admit it. Thank you for writing so many amazing fics for us, I’m excited for kinktober!👻

Based off of the previous ask of Dark Academia!Dorian

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 3,944

Notes: You'll know the part I yearn for when you read it 😏 the rest is sort of meh

_________________________________________

You dislike Dorian Havilliard very much.

It doesn’t matter that he’s the son to the king or that his best friend is a lord-turned-captain-of-the-royal-guard. Here, he’s just Dorian, an annoying pain-in-the-ass know-it-all that you’ve sworn to demolish with your good grades.

Unfortunately, Dorian is as smart with his head as he is with that tongue.

It’s said tongue of his that always gets him out of trouble. The professors love him, eat up any excuse to fall into his good graces, whether it’s passing him with flying colors or allowing him extra special office hours whenever he should come calling. 

It’s not only the teachers who fall for the boy who makes the ugly, pristinely-pressed uniform look way too good. Everyone laughs at his jokes, flounders over his words even when they have no meaning at all. Girls and boys alike fall to his feet at the charming ways he speaks to them, looks at them, flirtatious to the bone.

You aren’t like that. Intelligent, yes, but your lips don’t curve around your words like Dorian’s do. They are his long-time lover, held near and dear and are cared for. He speaks like an age-old poem, like he’d been an esteemed author in a past life, the way they flow so easily for him. 

No, you can write beautiful sentences, transform letters into works of art, ones that bring tears to the eyes of the beholder, but it’s speaking eloquently that always trips you up. You lack the emotion, the confidence, to really make your words ring true.

The laughter and easiness of the hall seems to dwindle into a silence that only Dorian himself can evoke, and you turn from gathering the textbooks you’ll need for the afternoon to watch. You don’t want to, but for some reason you’re as drawn to him as the rest of the crowd is.

Dorian’s sapphire eyes stir something in your chest, even more so when they flicker down your body and that little smirk appears, the one he knows pisses you off to no end. Your stare turns into a molten glare at that look, and the feeling coursing through your veins must be a hot hatred for the boy striding down the damned halls like he owns the place.

Chaol trails Dorian down the hall like an esteemed purebred, waiting for a treat. He had the glare of a bloodhound too, but it doesn’t do much to ward off the flirtatious glares the prince is receiving. There hasn’t been a single time all year that you’ve seen them apart. They’re even in all of the same classes for Mother’s sake.

That look makes you want to squirm, to claw his eyes out. What a privilege it must be, to be the king’s son, you think, slamming your locker shut with a loud clang and spinning on your heel, stalking down the hall to your next class.

One of the ones that Dorian’s in.

Thankfully, he stops to ogle some girls who’ve hiked their uniform skirts up to their eyes at the appearance of the prince. Chaol, ever the mindful guard, stops with them.

You can feel those gemstone eyes following you down the hall. Of course, everything that Dorian sees in you is only surface level. He doesn’t know your background or the fact that you’d been kept at school over the summer because your parents couldn’t afford for you to come home, all while he was living it up in the lavish palace he calls home.

He doesn’t know that late at night you sneak out of your rooms and into the library. There’s a hidden door in there, tucked away within the vast stacks of a history so ancient, that it makes you shudder to even glance at. You haven’t found the courage to step foot down that particular aisle of books because the raw power in the air makes the hair on your arms stand tall. You had made it your mission to muster the confidence to see what’s behind that door before you graduate, and plan on spending any of your free time searching for other hidden passageways within this centuries old school.

Whilst lost in the thoughts of the door in the library, you almost miss out on the entire lecture. Your professor doesn’t seem to notice because Dorian is answering all the questions she asks, and she’s wooed by his boring responses that even the dunces of the class could explain with flying colors.

By the time you’re released from class, you’ve decided to explore more of the library for hidden doors or books that give off a harrowing aura, when you slam into a wall. Not a wall, but the chest of your rival, Dorian Havilliard.

“Where are you going?” He asks, blocking you from stepping out into the hall.

You haven’t realized that the class had cleared out so quickly, and you shuffle a step backwards, trying to ignore the heat of his body and the way it had felt pressed against yours for a fleeting moment. In a burst of betrayal, that warmth converges between your thighs, and your muscles jump as you try to clench them together without his notice.

“To the library.” You don’t know why you answer, maybe because you’re thrown off by his sudden presence and lack thereof his best friend. Where is Chaol, you wonder, swallowing harshly when Dorian leans against his arm in the doorframe. He’s tall, muscular, and the shape he’s in draws your gaze down his perfect frame.

Something in those sapphire eyes flash, his mouth flattening from his smirk. “No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am,” you argue. Who is he to tell you what you can and can’t do in your own free time? “I want to get started on the paper Professor Erawan assigned us,” you lie, thankfully remembering that tidbit from class while your mind strayed.

“Then I’ll come with you.” It’s not a suggestion.

You scoff, narrowing your eyes at him, wondering what he could possibly want from you when there are plenty of people willing to give him the attention he’s craving. Dorian straightens and waves you out of the room with a flourish of his hand.

You stare for a long moment, brows furrowed as you try to figure him out. You’re not friends, and you don’t want to be. All you really want is to beat him at his game of wits, be the first in class, and solve the mystery of what’s behind the dark door in the library. None of which needs any involvement from him.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, giving him a wide berth as you step around him into the hall. He immediately steps into line with you, and you try to ignore the way that he’s slowing his gait to stride alongside you. “You’re only coming to flirt with the librarian.”

Dorian’s grin is wolfish, “Why would I flirt with the librarian, when you’re right next to me?”

You trip over your feet at his words. Dorian catches you with a hand around your arm, steadying you. His touch is hot on your skin, and the look in his eyes is hot.

Your heart races in your chest.

Of course, Dorian has an ethereal beauty to him that anyone would consider themselves lucky to be with, but the fact that he’s flirting with you of all people, when all you’ve done all year is argue and bicker like an old married couple confuses you almost as much as the idea of the hidden door in the library.

“I don’t know why you’d flirt with me at all, actually,” you reply when you can finally find your voice. You’re being snippy, but you want the irritatingly handsome boy beside you to go away. He can find a place to stuff his cock elsewhere—you’re nowhere near as easy as the rest of the students in this school. “We don’t like each other.”

“Awe,” Dorian croons. When you glance over at him, he’s wearing a taunting smile, one that fills you with as much warmth as a cup of tea. “Who said I didn’t like you?”

Turning down the corridor to the library, it’s surely unlikely that Dorian will leave your side. You make a show of glancing around as if you’re looking for something, ignoring the way that your heart stammers in your chest at the mention that there’s a possibility he might actually enjoy your presence.

“Where is your little lap dog?”

Dorian barks out a startling laugh. He looks shocked himself, placing a hand to his chest, his cheeks pinkening as his chuckle echoes through the halls. It being the weekend, students and professors alike have fled the school buildings, more than ready to start the fun of the weekend.

You’re pretty sure that you and Dorian are the only ones left in the school.

“Chaol is on errand,” he tells you, sapphire eyes sparkling with interest. “Would you rather have him join?”

He says it like it’s a proposition, like you’d be pressed tightly between both of their bodies, like you’re not walking in through the doors into the expansive library that has more secrets than books.

You shoot Dorian a sidelong glance, your brows furrowed in confusion. He’s acting nothing like the Dorian you’re used to. Well, sure, he’s still the cocky prince you know, but the flirting is new. He’s staring ahead, like what he’s said hasn’t just thrown you completely off axis.

“Here looks good,” you mutter, sliding your books onto one of the large wooden tables lining the walls. Anything to fill the silence. It’s eerie in a building like this, stacks upon stacks of books filled with puzzles you’ve yet to piece together.

“You’re actually studying?” Dorian sounds affronted, like he can’t believe that studying is something done in a library at all. Like it’s some sort of secret brothel or a place for his conquests.

You wouldn’t put it past him.

“I told you I was going to study,” you bite, “What did you think I was going to do?”

You regret the words almost as quickly as they leave your lips.

“I thought you invited me so that you could sneak your hands down my trousers. Wear my tie around your neck while I take you over the table, perhaps?”

“I didn’t invite you at all,” you fight, but your voice is as weak as the knees you’re pressing tightly together, trying to ignore the sudden interest your cunt has in his words.

You gasp when you’re suddenly turned around, Dorian pressing in close. He’s staring down at you like you’re his favorite treat, sapphire eyes dark with interest, want, and a tinge of…hate? Annoyance, maybe, because you’re putting up much more of a fight than he’s used to.

His cock twitches at that.

“Do you want me to leave?” He asks, and the tenor of his voice rumbles deliciously against your chest. His scent is intoxicating, and you’re sure that his calloused fingers would feel just as good pressed against your skin as they are pinning your hips to the edge of the table.

Your brain must be on the fritz. Maybe you’ve stepped through that scary, looming, ancient door into another world because this cannot be happening. This isn’t Dorian.

“Why me?” you voice is quiet, a minute tremble to it that makes Dorian’s lashes flutter. He shifts on his feet, and you bite back the groan that crawls up your throat at the feeling of his hardening cock in his pants against your front. “Why now?”

He leans down to whisper in your ear, his long fingers tucking your hair tenderly behind your ear. The motion has your thighs clenching. His breath is a warm caress as he says, “Because I love it when you fight me. And I’ve had enough of keeping myself at bay. Hate me, if you must, but please let me fuck you.”

 “Yes,” you sigh, and the word is barely out of your mouth before Dorian’s lips are against yours, hot and unyielding, ravaging you completely like a predator does it prey.

His fingers clutch at your clothes, curling into the fabric in a feral sort of need that has you gasping, has your cunt weeping and lightning zipping through your veins. You chase the feeling, rolling your hips against Dorian’s.

You don’t know what’s come over you. The taste of his lips is exquisite and much sweeter than the vitriol the both of you are usually spitting at each other. His scent invades your senses—ice, ocean, magic, and musk. It consumes you as much as his presence is right now, overwhelmed by not just the primal need for you in his life but because of the strange events that have led you from loathing the boy lying you back onto the wooden table.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he pants when you arch into his body. His breath is hot, mingling with your own as you gasp for air. Dorian’s cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, matching the color of his swollen lips that he darts his tongue across, chasing your taste. His sapphire eyes are all pupil, dark and consuming and hungry for more. “Spread those pretty legs for me.”

You follow his instruction like a person cursed, thighs spreading wide for Dorian as he stands to his full height. His eyes burn a thousand fires down your body as he takes his time drinking you in, the gentle caress of his hands following the same torturous path has shivers awakening across every inch of your body.

“Dorian,” you plead, but he’s too engrossed with taking his time. His fingers curl around the waistband of your pants, flicking the button open with ease and guiding them down your legs.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he admits, utterly distracted by the sight of your creamy thighs on display for him. He bites back the smirk that’s threatening to appear on his lips when you impatiently start kicking your pants down your legs with a frustrated and desperate keen. It makes his cock twitch, a bead of precum leak from the tip into the fabric of his underwear.

At the sight of your soaked panties calling to him like a siren, Dorian has to press his palm firmly against his aching cock, trying to keep himself from orgasming right now.

“How long?” you ask. Your fingers curl into the wood of the table because you need something to hold onto, and Dorian’s just out of reach. Your cheeks heat with arousal as those sapphire eyes zero in on your nipples where they’re tight and straining against your shirt. You don’t know why you feel the sudden urge to know how long he’s been thinking of you like this, why now is the time he’s finally decided to make his move, but you need to know his answer. “How long have you wanted me lying out for you like this, Dorian?”

His name sounds like heaven on your tongue, and he groans, releasing himself, his resolve snapping as he bends to take your mouth again.

You moan loudly, languidly. Dorian’s tongue brushes against yours and the feeling zips to your cunt as you imagine the feeling of his mouth sucking your clit, his tongue plunging inside of your dripping cunt like a starved male.

He hastily shoves up the fabric of your shirt, sneaking beneath the material of your bra to palm your breasts. You bury your fingers deeply into his hair, tugging on it when he tries to part from you. You didn’t know how desperately you’ve needed this—needed him—but now that his admission is out in the open and has you rethinking your dislike for the prince, you don’t want him to part from you.

“Since the first day we met,” Dorian breathes against your mouth. Your body goes slack with shock at the thought, fingers falling from his locks. Dorian doesn’t seem to notice, taking advantage of finally being free from you to mouth his way down your throat, burying his head beneath your shirt for a taste of your flesh.

You’d met Dorian years ago, on the first day of your time at school here. He was just as popular then as he is now, and just as cheeky, too. All you can recall from that day is the way how all of the other students were falling over their feet for a chance to befriend the prince. You’d wanted nothing to do with that, even when he’d stopped at your locker and tried to use his charm to get you to switch with him.

He had made a joke in poor taste, one that annoyed you enough to rebuttal with words not polite for someone of your status to say to a member of royalty, ever.

That was when you started to dislike Dorian Havilliard.

That sentiment is beginning to change, especially when he rolls one of your nipples gently between his teeth.

You cry out in pleasure, trying to grind your hips against his as you writhe beneath him on the table. Your arch, pressing your breasts into his mouth and he hums encouragingly, even more so when he hears the sound you make in response.

Dorian brushes his knuckles across your clothed cunt, reveling in how responsive you are for him when he’s barely done a thing. After this, he hopes that you won’t go back to hating him because he doesn’t think he can bear it, now that he has the taste of your engraved on his tongue.

He abandons post between your breasts, sliding his way down your body, kissing, licking, teasing every inch of skin that he can before he arrives at his desired destination. He settles himself between your legs, jerking your closer to him, your legs over his shoulders and ass leaning precariously on the edge of the table.

“Sweetheart?” he questions, and it takes effort for you to lift your head to look at him. Your body is burning with need, thighs trembling with anticipation. Your gaze is cloudy with lust and it takes you a few blinks to dispel it, giving Dorian your attention.

You scowl at the smirk gracing his lips. “What?”

“Do you still dislike me?”

Your heart thunders in your chest as you watch Dorian pull your panties to the side with long fingers that you know could hit every neglected spot inside of you. The cool air from the library breezes across your wetness along with the heat of his breath and it sends your mind into a dizziness of desire that forces you to take a moment to catch your breath.

“If I say yes?” you ask, biting your lip. Will he stop? Pretend that this was all some sort of game? A bet that he and Chaol had going on? Will he pop out from between bookshelves to laugh?

Before your mind can grasp onto one of those thoughts and overthink it, Dorian says with a twinkle to his sapphire eyes, “I’d say that you’re not going to after this.”

And then the prince feasts.

You fall back to the table with a cry of satisfaction. The thud of your head smacking the wood echoes throughout the library but you hardly feel a thing as Dorian licks a fat stripe up your clit. He doesn’t hesitate to bury himself in your cunt, fucking his tongue into you with fervor. Your thighs are already threatening to clamp shut around his head but his strong hold keeps them splayed wide as he devours you.

“Princeling,” you whine when you feel the tidal wave of orgasm building. You don’t know where the nickname comes from, somewhere buried as deeply inside of you as Dorain’s tongue is, but it has him growling against your cunt, trapping your clit between his teeth and flicking his tongue across it faster.

There’s nowhere for you to go, nowhere to squirm with the feeling that crashes over you because Dorian’s strength is pinning you to the table. Your fingers find his scalp, biting in, and Dorian welcomes the feeling, using that wicked tongue on you even when the wave crashes and you’re trying to shove him weakly away from your aching clit.

The reprieve of Dorian pulling away doesn’t last long. He straightens to his full height, keeping your legs hooked over his shoulders. It causes your body to slide even closer to him, your wet cunt butting right up against his cock that’s straining so hard in his pants that it’s painful.

“You’ll never call me anything else. Promise me,” he says, and with that harsh look in his eyes and the way that his lips glisten with your orgasm, you could never say no.

Dorian unsheathes himself, unbuttoning his trousers and pulling them down just enough that his cock springs free from its confines. He takes himself in hand, eyes wild with desire as he slides himself through your slickness.

Your breath is choked when you respond, “I promise.”

It’s pressed from your lungs completely with each inch his cock plunges into you. Your nails scrape against the wood of the table, the finishing catching beneath your nails. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at the feeling of him stretching you wide, Dorian’s low groan reflecting the one that your body is desperate to release but is unable to.

His curse is sinful when his hips finally meet yours. He’s staring down at you like you’re everything to him. Like you’re his queen.

“Dorian,” you gasp.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Move.”

Move he does. Dorian’s hands meet your hips and your fingers clamp down on his forearms as he thrusts his hips. He loves the marks you’re leaving on his skin, the way you’re branding him with your hot, wet cunt wrapped tightly around him. There’s a sheen to his eyes that shifts something in your soul. You can feel it splintering out of your chest, winding through your veins and into Dorian’s where you’re connected.

He seems to feel it too, with the way that he leans over you again to capture your mouth against his.

“You will be my ending,” Dorian breathes when he’s able to pull himself away from you. He doesn’t go far, his lips brushing yours with his confession. “I would give you my last breath if it meant keeping you alive, but I’m selfish enough to admit that I’d waste it because I cannot imagine a plane of existence where I am without you.”

“Dorian!” You shudder with his words, hiss because how can one male be so good with words? So good with his fingers, his tongue, his cock? The way that he’s hitting that spot again and again and again is driving you over the edge into an oblivion that he follows you into because he meant what he just said.

You revel in the weight of his body collapsing against yours while he paints the walls of your cunt with his cum. You wrap your legs around his waist, keeping him tucked deeply inside of you. Your hearts beat loudly against each other, a heady drum of confessions and more.

You peck Dorian once, twice when your mind clears, trying to pull him from the stupor your cunt has put him in. He’s never felt like this before, never had sex this good. Even when you’re spewing fire at him, he’s wanted this, wanted you from the moment he set those sapphire eyes on you.

And now he has you.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𖥔

summary ; your valentine’s day takes a turn when what you think is just a surprise from peter turns out to be a lot more than you bargained for.

pairing ; mcu!peter parker x fem!reader

notes ; fluff, some mentions of anxiety, but mostly just peter being an oblivious lil himbo baby! this is a repost from my old acc x

do not transfer, translate or share my work to any other sites.

with valentine’s day just around the corner, it was easy to find yourself paranoid about the entire holiday and what exactly it meant for you and peter. 

while for most people, it was a celebration of love and being able to embrace that, for you, it had become an anxiety-induced menace of a day that had you second-guessing everything.

the worst part of all was that you and peter technically weren’t together. 

yet, as the days grew closer and you continued to get your hopes up, it was hard not to feel disheartened when he hadn’t uttered a single word about it. leading you to wonder if he had even given it any thought or if you were simply just getting in over your head about the whole thing. 

to any stranger passing you by on the street and witnessing just how affectionate you were with each other, you looked like a couple. heck, you had even shared the occasional kiss, sometimes a little more, and on days when you would go to his apartment to study, it was never long before you’d find yourself snuggling in his bed while he tried to do homework over the top of you.

you never really cared to put a label on your situationship until now, and mostly because you didn’t think you had to. 

but when the day finally arrives and peter was yet to exhibit any efforts in the name of romance, you were devastated. 

“so, he really hasn’t said anything?” mj asks as you head to your locker, having just finished your last class of the day. 

“nope. not a word,” you shake your head.

with her brows furrowing into a scowl, mj exhales, “man, i really thought he would have. i mean… it’s peter. the dude is literally the biggest softie i have ever met.”

despite the sadness you were feeling, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at your best friend’s words. she was the only one that knew how strongly you felt for peter. 

after all, she was the one to point it out.

“i don’t know, maybe i’m just looking too much into it?” you lift your shoulders into a shrug at the same time you reach your locker. 

“well, speak of the devil,” mj gestures towards the end of the hallway where peter and ned had just rounded the corner. 

it only takes them a moment to catch sight of you, and when they do, peter beams with a smile and waves before heading in your direction. even as they passed by multiple girls carrying flowers and the various heart-shaped decorations scattered all over the halls, peter still hadn’t noticed.

“hey! ned and i were talking about going back to mine to study for that test we have coming up, and maybe watch a movie. you guys in?” he asks, tugging on the straps of his bag, completely ignorant to his surroundings. 

it was like he had forgotten about the holiday’s existence altogether, or he was actively trying to avoid it. but why?

“i can’t. i, uh, i actually have a date tonight,” mj says, tucking her hair behind her ear as all eyes turn in her direction. 

“wait, what? with who?” you ask, this being the first you were hearing about it. honestly, you were surprised she had even told you at all. 

shaking her head, she looks down at her feet and shrugs, “just this guy. it doesn’t matter. but, uh, y/n is free tonight so… there’s that.”

the second the words leave her lips, peter’s attention returns to you. and you weren’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like he was relieved that you had no plans. 

a small smile dangled on the corner of his mouth, and his deep brown eyes softened as they met yours. “oh, okay. well, uh, do you want to join us?” he sort of fumbles over his words. 

while it wasn’t exactly what you had imagined spending the most romantic day of the year with peter would be like, it beat having to sit at home alone wallowing in your own self-pity. even if it was with the person causing it… and ned.

you open your mouth to speak when you’re interrupted by ned’s phone.

“actually, change of plans,” he says. “it’s betty… and she wants to see a movie tonight.”

“i thought you two broke up?” mj narrows her eyes with confusion. 

“we did… but maybe she wants to get back together?” he turns to peter with hopeful eyes, and after a moment, the other boy gives him a nudge. 

“dude, go!” he laughs. and just like that, ned rushes down the hall in search of betty, leaving the three of you dumbfounded as you let out a chorus of chuckles. 

“on that note, i better get going too,” mj says once the laughter faded into sighs and points the same way ned had gone. “i’ll see you losers monday. have fun, studying.”

rolling your eyes, you wave goodbye to the girl, as the thought of being alone with peter all night creeps into your mind. 

the idea alone causes your heart to fasten, thrumming loudly in your ears as your mouth becomes dry with nerves. it wasn’t like you at all to be so anxious around peter, and so much so that you almost couldn’t think straight. he was typically the one person you went to when you needed things to slow down, not make them difficult. 

you try to play off the effect he was having on you as you close your locker and swing your bag over your shoulder, but the second your gaze meets his again, it only seems to amplify. 

“so, it looks like it’s just you and me,” he shuffles awkwardly on his feet, tightening his grip on his bag straps once more. 

“uh, yeah. looks like it.” you smile, swallowing the ball that had formed in your throat, and the two of you slowly head towards the exit. 

the walk back to his apartment is quiet at first, but the second peter starts talking about the chemistry assignment he had coming up, there was no stopping him. though, you couldn’t shake the feeling like he was purposely trying to prolong the walk. 

he insisted that you take the longer route, which you never do, and he even slowed down his pace through the park. and as you were passing the deli-grocery, he stopped off to buy you both a sandwich, which wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but it did add another fifteen minutes to your time. 

it was like he didn’t want to get back to the apartment, like the thought of being fully alone with you was something he didn’t want to partake in. 

when you do finally reach the apartment, however, he fumbles to unlock the door and almost drops the keys in the process, but the second it’s open, you’re hesitant to even step inside. you had been there a million times before but this time, for whatever reason, felt different. 

you wondered if it really were such a good idea for you to be there, to be alone with him when he was clearly opposed to the idea. which was odd considering he had been the one to initiate you going over there in the first place.

“do you want a drink or anything?” he asks as he passes the kitchen to put his bag in his room. 

most days, you would follow him straight to his room, sometimes even beating him there, but with how he had been acting, it just didn’t feel right. so you lingered in the living room instead. 

at least, until he pops his head out of the door, and with a reassuring smile surfacing on his lips, he gestures for you to follow. 

“we’ve got water, juice or soda?” he asks as you enter the room, dropping his bag at the foot of his bed. 

“water is fine,” you nod. 

“okay, give me a sec,” he nods back, and having to cram past you to get out of the door, his hand runs down your arm so to not squish you. the touch immediately sends a pulse throughout your body, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

you were just grateful peter was far enough away that he hadn’t heard it, or if he did, he didn’t show it. 

with peter leaving you alone in his room, you take the chance to take it all in like you hadn’t been there before. you drop your bag beside his and slip out of your jacket before falling into a stupor on his bed. 

peter’s room had always been comforting to you, though, since the blip, it didn’t quite feel like it was his anymore. 

like everyone else that tragically disappeared, peter lost the majority of his belongings, as did you, but he no longer had any of his action figures or comic books. even the nerdy science posters that you would pick on him for, or his lego models - all the things that made peter’s room… his… was all gone. 

shaking away the thoughts, you bury yourself in the comfort of his sheets, letting your fingers dance across the cotton as you wait for him to return. but when you move to grab your phone from your jacket pocket, something in the corner of your eye catches your attention. 

it was the smallest glimmer of something red inside his closet, and the door was only open a crack, but it was enough to make your thoughts go wild. 

was it possible that peter had bought you something for valentine’s day and this whole thing was just a ruse to get you alone with him? were ned and mj in on it? or had he decided against it, thinking that maybe it was too much, and that’s why it was hidden away in his closet?

perhaps that was why he had been acting so strange and why he had been pretending like today was nothing but any other regular day?

however, before you get the chance to relieve your suspicions, peter walks back in with two glasses of water, and when he sees that you had already made yourself comfortable, he draws in his bottom lip as a nervous smile takes hold of his features. 

“something tells me you have absolutely no intention of studying,” he shakes his head. 

“something tells me you’re right.” you pat the spot beside you, and he obliges, pulling his laptop from the desk beside the bed and finding a movie for you both to watch. 

while you enjoyed laying with peter in comfortable silence, watching the film he had chosen, you couldn’t stop thinking about what was in his closet. the tiny sliver of red teasing you from between the slats, begging for you to confront it. 

nevertheless, it takes two hours for peter to finally leave the room again, and within that time, he hadn’t mentioned it at all. which only made you all the more curious. 

so the second he stepped out of the room, you set into motion to find out what it was he was hiding. and you knew you shouldn’t have, but not knowing was killing you, and you simply couldn’t help yourself. 

you tip-toe across the floor, avoiding the creaky spot in the middle, and after a deep breath, you slowly open the door. though, what you were expecting to be a heart-shaped balloon or a cute stuffed animal that said something like ‘be my valentine?’ on the front, was far from what you had imagined. 

instead, hanging on the metal rod was a suit. a suit that you would recognise absolutely anywhere with it’s distinct red and black colours, and who could forget the unmistakable mask with its intricate detailing. 

then it hits you, and a shiver of realisation rolls down your spine. 

setting out a gasp, you drop the suit to the floor and stumble back into the bed, knocking over a book in the process. you couldn’t believe what you had just discovered, and you barely get a moment to collect yourself before peter comes running to the door. 

“hey, are you-” he stops the second he sees the suit, his smile falling as he takes in your bewildered state and it transforms into a look of horror. 

“peter, i-”

“shit,” he exhales, cutting you off as he reaches for the material and throws it back into his closet as fast as he can, despite knowing that the damage was already done. “don’t look at that. that’s nothing. completely and totally nothing.”

“peter, was that - are you?” you try to get the words out, but you’re still in so much shock that it seems near impossible to do so.

“no. nope. It’s not…” he shakes his head rapidly, leaning against the closet now. “it was, uh, it was a gift from may. she knows i like superheroes, so, y'know?”

“peter…”

“it’s nothing, really. i promise. it was just a-”

“peter…”

“i was thinking of maybe even wearing it for halloween this year, what do you think? you could go as black widow, or umm, captain marvel?”

“peter!” this time when you say his name, he stops talking, realising that there was no way he was going to get out of this. and if he did, it would be a miracle. but you were smart, smart enough not to believe the nonsense that was pouring out of his mouth, and know that this was for real. 

his head falls with defeat, and he drags himself to sit beside you. the air was heavy now, filled with worry as he tried to choose his words carefully. there were only so many ways you could tell someone you had a secret identity being a superhero and he had wanted to do it perfectly - but most importantly, not like this. 

“look, i - i hated not being able to tell you but if everyone knew who i was then my life wouldn’t be the same anymore." 

"but, this is me we’re talking about peter. i’m the same person that knows you still wear star wars underwear, and that you secretly love it when i choose to watch twilight on movie night.” you sigh, shoulders slumping slightly. “you can tell me anything.”

his eyes soften at your remark, and the ghost of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “i know, but i wanted… i wanted to keep you safe. there are bad guys out there that would like to come after spider-man and you knowing who i am, only puts you in danger." 

"who else knows?" 

"may, ned and… mj.”

“mj?” you retort. 

“to be fair, i didn’t tell her. she worked it out herself and i swore her to secrecy so don’t be angry at her for not telling you.” he raises a finger to further prove his point. “i was actually planning on telling you about it tonight, but every time i thought about it, i got nervous and i couldn’t do it.”

“so that’s why you’ve been acting so weird?” you ask, nudging the boy’s shoulder playfully as relief washes over you. “and here i am thinking that it was me. the only reason i looked in your closet was because i… i thought… never mind it’s stupid.”

he chuckles, “no. you have to tell me now!”

you let your head fall back for a moment, and after letting out a deep breath, you sway your head back down. “okay. i saw the red through the cracks and i thought that maybe… it was a valentine’s day present. i know we never really put a label on… us… but i just, i don’t know, i thought that maybe that’s where we were and-”

your words turn into muffles as peter presses his lips to yours in a swift movement, and you’re taken back by his actions but you don’t push him off. your body feels electric and you kiss him back with a smile, sinking into it more before he pulls away. 

he doesn’t pull back much, and instead, rests his forehead against yours as you both try to catch your breath. your heart thumps in your chest and you’re still so close that you were sharing the same air. 

peter had kissed you many of times before, some of them turning into heated make-out sessions but this was different to any of those. this had purpose. 

“sorry, you were rambling and i couldn’t help myself.” a coy smile flashes across his face for a moment, before being replaced with a look of uncertainty. “was that enough for you to see how i feel about you? or would you rather i change my relationship status too? or i could just post to the entire world about how much i love you?”

upon hearing the words, you pull away and a shallow gasp escapes you. you weren’t sure if peter had meant to say it, but whether he did or not, it was out there now and your heart pangs inside your chest as your stomach fills with butterflies. 

“you love me?” you say between breaths and disbelief in your eyes. 

he lets out a nervous laugh as his cheeks redden, and his fingers play with the folds of his shirt. “i mean, yeah… you’re kinda my favourite person in existence. it’d be hard not to.”

“really?”

he nods and walks back over to the closet. “yeah. also if you had of looked in the other side of my closet you would’ve seen this…" 

you watch as he opens the closet door to reveal a beautiful bouquet of white and red flowers all wrapped up in bright red paper.

"i was going to give it to you when i told you about… y'know…” he widens his eyes. “but you sort of did that for me… plus, there was also this.”

this time he pulls out a small bag, something that you’d find at a jewellery store, and hands it to you. you look to him as though to be asking permission to open it, and he nods, gesturing for you to do so before leaning against his desk. 

“it’s not a lot, and i’ve been saving for a while now to get it for you, but if you don’t like it then we can exchange it or get something else…”

opening the bag, you find a small box with gold detailing around the sides. and when you open it, inside sits a bracelet decorated with charms, but the one in the middle, that you can’t really see unless you’re looking close enough is a 'p’.

after a moment of basking in the sentiment of it all, you lean back and give him a warm smile. 

“i love it,” you say, tears slowly starting to brim your eyes as your mouth involuntarily starts to crease. “and i love you.”

“yeah?” peter’s brows twitch, his eyes never leaving yours, and he lifts your palm to his lips for a feather-light kiss. he barely touches you, but it sets your skin alight. 

then all of your focus is on him as you stand to meet him, enveloping him in another kiss. hands moving along his chest to fall behind his neck as he wraps his own around your waist and holds you tight. pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. 

when you do finally pull apart, he clasps the bracelet around your wrist before you slide your fingers through his, savouring the warmth of his skin against yours. 

“so, since you have two identities does that mean i get double the love?” you let out a small chuckle and peter matches it. 

“i think i could manage that.” he says and places one more kiss on the tip of your nose. 

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student FINALE

Masterlist!

(Femreader, pretty long, drama, fluff, I didn’t rlly know how to end this bro, not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

Y/n POV

I get woken up by my phone buzzing, it’s 2am who’s calling me? I sit up and grab it off my bedside table. Chris? I answer it, “hello?” I ask sleepily. “I’m so sorry I woke you up,” he spoke softly, “it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

“Please don’t drop Matts class, I had a talk with him everything’s okay he just doesn’t want you to throw away something you’re good at.” Chris replies. “Everything’s good with you and him? And me?” I need to make sure, “yeah he said he wants you to be happy and he’s not going to mess with your feelings, he knows how much I like you.” I can’t see it but I know he’s smiling.

“Really? That’s great!” I sit up further, “Fine, I won’t drop his class then, I do enjoy the subject I just didn’t wanna be in the same class as him but if it’s all good then okay!” I say enthusiastically.

“Can we meet up tomorrow? After college?” He asks me, “Yeah sure,” I groan as I stretch. “Go back to sleep y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He chuckles, “Goodnight.” I mumble as I fall further into my pillow. He hangs up as I instantly fall back to sleep peacefully.

I’m glad everything is good between them, I feel bad for being mad at Matt but.. I did have a right to, but him and Chris also had a right to be mad at me.. I won’t dwell on the past.

My alarm chimes, “Fuck..” I sit up and shut it off, I go to shower and get dressed before applying makeup and getting my bag ready. I walk downstairs, toast a waffle and eat it up to my table.

“Hey sweetie.” my dad walks down the stairs, “Morning dad, you sleep well.” I ask him as he makes a coffee, “Eh, same as usual.” He groans, he sits down opposite me, “No syrup or anything with that?” He points at the waffle on my plate, “No I didn’t want any.” I smile, “Weirdo.” He laughs sipping his coffee.

I check my phone, and he checks his and then it’s time for me to leave. “I’m gonna head off, see you later dad!” I stand up, “See ya Pumpkin.” He waves from the table, “Wait dad I forgot,” I turn around, “I’m going out with a friend after college so I’ll be back late.” He smiles, “That’s okay I’ll be in work anyway, but stay safe!”

I leave and start to walk, I make it to college early and walk in and sit in the library. “You’re here early.” Matt spoke, my head flicked up from the book I was reading, “I underestimated my walking speed.” I chuckle quietly. “Can I sit?” He points opposite me, I nod.

“Chris talked to you yesterday right?” I whispered, we’re in a library even though literally nobody is in here. “Yeah, I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, I liked you but not the same way you liked me whereas Chris.. you’re one of the only things he talks about.” Matt chuckles.

It hurt hearing him say he didn’t like me the same way I liked him but, I don’t have those feelings for him anymore so it doesn’t matter. “Really?” I smile, “Yeah it’s always, y/n this.. y/n that.. and in between he talks about some bullshit nobody really understands.” He grins, “I really like him Matt.”

“I told him I didn’t wanna get in the way of you both, I mean.. he literally quit his job for you, that’s something I couldn’t do for anyone.” Matt sighs, “And I apologise.. for messing with your head and lying and everything. Just know I won’t do that again, you and Chris can be happy and I won’t ruin that.” He smiles softly, “Thank you.” I nod.

“Thank you, for not dropping the class, you’re the top student.. You’re an A+ Student.. even without ‘extra credit’ and you will pass the course easily.” He spoke quietly. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for being rude to you yesterday, I was just upset.” I added.

“It’s alright it’s understandable-” he goes to speak but he gets cut off by his phone pinging. “Oh shit I gotta go to set up class, I’ll see you in a bit.” He gets up and walks out the library.

After 10 minutes I leave the library and turn down the hallway, I see Lizzy, Mason, Ethan, Myla, and Kelly all talking and laughing. I walk over to them, “Hi.” I smile, they instantly stop talking and turn to face me, “Oh hey.” Lizzy spoke awkwardly. Kelly is staring into my soul, why have they all stopped talking when I show up?

“What are you guys talking about?” I try to break the awkwardness, “Oh nothing much.” Mason nods, “You can continue talking, don’t let me stop you.” I chuckle nervously, “Uh.. Mason and Kelly how did your date go yesterday?” Ethan changes the subject, I look to Mason and Kelly who are both blushing.

I guess she has a type.. anyone who shows interest in me. I’m joking but still, “It went well.. we’re sorta dating now.” Kelly giggles, “Yeah.” Mason looks directly at me for a response, “Congrats.” I smile. I’m not jealous at all, I’ve got Chris.

“Did you know Mr Sturniolo quit his job?” Ethan says to Mason, “What why?” He replies, I fiddle with my hand’s anxiously. “He had ‘more important things to focus on’,” Ethan scoffs, “My mom is the headmasters assistant so she told me, but if you ask me.. I think he was fucking a student.”

I look to him instantly, “What made you think that?” I ask him, “Apparently he had Hickeys on his neck, but here’s the thing.. he didn’t have them when he got here.. he must’ve got them from someone here.” He chuckles, “Are you sure he wasn’t dating one of the staff here?” I tried to hide my nervousness.

“Why are you defending him,” Ethan laughs, “Are you the student he was sneaking around with.” He crosses his arms, “What no! I wouldn’t date a teacher.” I try and defend myself, “I never said date, plus he quit his job so he’s not a teacher anymore.” He snarks.

“Can you just stop, I’m too tired to deal with bullshit.” I sigh, “Tired from fucking Mr Sturniolo is it?” Lizzy joins in, “Liz what?” I scoff, “I was joking.” She awkwardly chuckles. Kelly doesn’t say a word, “You okay?” Mason wraps an arm around her, I know what she’s thinking, she’s fucked Matt and is nervous anyone might find out.

“Yeah, great.” She replies. “You a teacher fucker Y/n? Hm?” Ethan leans down to my ear, I shake my head. “Ethan I said stop.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Everything okay here?” A familiar voice, Matt. Kelly turns around so quickly you would think someone was offering a million bucks for free.

“Yep professor, everything’s peachy.” Ethan fake smiles and places his hand on my shoulder. “Ethan’s being a dick.” I spoke out, his expression shifts to betrayal or some shit. “Yeah well y/n is a teacher fu-” Ethan goes to speak and cuts himself off as Matt is Chris’ brother.

“Kelly you didn’t do your homework that was due Friday.” He spoke to her, her face so sheepish you woulda thought she saw a ghost. “Sorry Mat- Professor.” She stutters, I try not to laugh because of how nervous she is. “It’s fine but get it done by tomorrow.” He nods going to walk away until he stops and turns on his heels.

“And Ethan?” He calls, Ethan looks up.. “Don’t spread rumours about my brother, I could get your mother in trouble for telling you confidential information.” He tilts his head, “Sorry sir.” He looks down at his feet. Matt walks away.

“What was that about Kels?” Liz asks Kelly, Kels? Since when were they that close friends, “What?” Kelly stutters, “Your little nervous moment then.” Liz chuckles, “You gotta crush on Professor Sturniolo?” She smiles, “No!” Kelly shakes her head, Mason looks down at Kelly confused.

“It’s fine, I know someone else who does.” Liz looks at me and smirks, “Nope, not anymore.” I look at her, “Mhm sure.. what about Mr Sturniolo, you told me you liked him.” She teases, “Whatever.” I roll my eyes I’m sick of this what is she doing?

“I’m gonna go to class.” I push past Mason and Ethan, “You got another 20 mins, do you just wanna see Professor Sturniolo?” Ethan teases, “No, I just wanna get away from you all. The only one who isn’t being an asshole is Kelly.” I nod at her, “I’ll go to class with you, so you aren’t alone.” She smiles and walks next to me.

“Yeah okay.” I nod, and we walk to class. I knock the door, before walking in with Kelly. Matt turns to us, “Everything good?” He asks me, “No they pissed me off so I came to class early, Kelly came aswell.” She walks in next to me, “Hi.” She waves nervously, “Hey you okay?” He smiles, she nods.

I never thought I’d be friends with the girl who Matt fucked without me knowing, but she’s nice. We sit down next to each-other in my row, just until class starts. “I feel bad that they were teasing you.” Kelly whispers so Matt doesn’t hear, “Yeah it’s fine.” I sigh, I pull out my notes. “If I’m being honest, I also had a crush on him.” She points at Matt who is sat at his desk writing stuff down.

“I know.” I chuckle a bit, “How did you know?” She tilts her head, “I could just tell by your body language whenever he would talk to you.” I smile at her, “Oh that’s so embarrassing.” She covers her face, “It’s fine don’t worry.” I start to write down some notes.

“Ethan said he saw your insta story the other day.” Kelly whispers, my head turns to her, “The car one?” She leans closer to me so she can speak quieter. “Don’t ask me how I know but, that was his car right?” She points at Matt again, “yeah but.. not him.” I sigh, “Oh shit.” I speak again as I realise what I was talking about.

I don’t even know her enough and I basically just admitted to the thing that Ethan was accusing me of, “It’s fine, wanna know a secret?” She smirks, “What?” I reply and she sighs “don’t tell anyone please?” She looks at me, “As long as you don’t tell anyone what we’re talking about in general here.” I nod.

“I promise not to,” she puts her pinky out and we pinky promise on it. “I fucked him..” she signals to Matt, “I feel super guilty about it too because I shouldn’t have but.. it was in the moment and you know.. but I called things off almost instantly. I still feel awkward though but he said it’s okay.” She sighs.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone.” I smile at her, I’m glad I’m making a new friend because Lizzy has changed. Little does Kelly know, both of us have fucked Matt but I’m not gonna tell her that. “So you and Mr Sturniolo did.. fuck?” She whispers, I nod, “So Ethan was right?” She sighs.

“Yeah.” I scribble on the plain paper infront of me, “Your secret is safe with me I promise, I fucking hate Ethan in general and he made me so annoyed when he was pressing you about it.” She scoffs, “He usually tells his mom everything.” She rolls her eyes, “Ugh.” I groan.

We talk for a bit and class starts, Kelly returns to her seat and people come in, Matt starts the lesson.

Halfway through the class Ethan and his mom walk in, my heart sinks. What are they doing here, I pretend to continue doing my work and Matt walks up to them. I look up and see Ethan pointing at me, Matt walks up next to me and leans down “They want you to go with them, I think Ethan said something about what he was talking to you about earlier.” Matt pulls an awkward face.

“Oh shit.” I stand up and walk down to them, Ethan grins and I roll my eyes, “Y/n we have to talk to you, Ethan go back to class.” His mom dismissed him and walks to the principals office with me, my heart is beating so quickly.

She lets me in and instantly I’m greeted by the principal. “Sit down.” He’s a tall man, like super tall. 6ft 4 at least. He looks down at me as he demands me to sit. I do exactly that and sit in the seat across from his desk. “We’ve had a very serious accusation..” he sits down opposite me.

“Mrs Winters’ son has told her some information you need to clear up.” He signals her to come closer, “Ethan has revealed to me that he has suspicions that you had a physical relationship with a teacher here. Is that true?” She stands infront of me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ethan was accusing me of it earlier and stuff but it’s not true.”

“He also told me that you had told him some information, but that was confidential information so that’s not good.” I turn the tables and start accusing her, her eyes widen. “Do not switch the topic.” She demands, “Oh no I’m not, it’s very much on the same topic.” I lean back in my chair. The principal looks at her, “Is that true?” He asks.

“I had only told him about the situation with Mr Sturniolo and the hickeys on his neck, and the reason he quit his job and I told him I thought it was suspicious!” She defends herself, “That was private between Mr Sturniolo and us, you shouldn’t spread that. But on the topic of Mr Sturniolo.” He directs his attention to me.

“Did you, or did you not.. have a sexual relationship with Christopher Sturniolo during his time teaching here?” He spoke more sternly. “I did not.” I lie, “Why was there footage of you and him in a car together, not long ago? Also an instagram story that shows different.”

Fuck.. my own actions coming back on me, something I did just to make Matt jealous is coming back at me. “Well..” I try to defend myself but get interrupted. “The car you had on the instagram story is the same one that Professor Sturniolo drives, and if I’m correct, he shares that car with his brother Christopher Sturniolo.. right?”

I nod, “So you’re admitting it?” He tilts his head, “He’s not a teacher anymore so there’s no problem with it.” I cross my arms, “So you do have some sort of relationship with him?” Mrs Winters asks me, I shrug. “It wasn’t bad. We didn’t do anything until he quit his job.” I lie but it was a good lie.

“But the hickeys on his neck?” He looks at me, “It was just a make out session, I didn’t know I did that.” I pretend to feel guilty but I don’t, I meant every single one of those marks I left on his neck. “Y/n you know what this means?” He leans forward and sighs, “If your grades weren’t A’s and A+’s you would have to be expelled.”

“But, since you’re a good student, you’re good for our public scores so selfishly of the school we will keep you here, but if we catch any suspicious activity we will not refrain from taking immediate action.” He spoke sternly. I nod, “okay thank you, I’m sorry.” I sigh, I can feel Mrs Winters’ eyes burning into me.

“What happens now?” I ask quietly, “We will have to send you home until tomorrow.” He looks at me with disappointment. I get out of the chair and walk to the door, “I’m sorry again.” I look back, he nods before signalling for Mrs Winters to sit down. She was telling personal information to her son that’s gotta get her in trouble.. right?

I walk past the English classroom and remember that I left my jacket in there. “Shit..” I mutter under my breath. I knock the door timidly and walk in, the class still full of students learning. “I need my jacket.” I mumble, “Are you not staying?” Matt tilts his head and I shake mine, “I got sent home.” I turn away from the class and widen my eyes at him.

He gets the idea of what I mean and nods quickly, “Oh.. okay.” He goes back to his desk, I walk to my seat next to Kelly and grab my jacket off the seat. “What’s happening?” She whispers to me, “You know what I told you?” I whisper back to her, “Yeah..” she leans to hear me better, “They had evidence or something, I’m not expelled but just suspended for a day.” I sigh, “Oh no.. I’ll see you tomorrow though.” She smiles gently.

I walk out the English classroom, giving a small wave to Matt and walking down the hall and out the school door. I grab my phone out and text Chris, he can pick me up now. “We can meet up now. I’ll explain, can u pick me up? xx” I text him. Not even 5 minutes pass before his typing bubble pops up.

“Ok ma On my way! x” I chuckle, his text was followed by an “omw dk why it auto corrected x” I smile to myself and wait outside the school gates until I see the minivan pull up. The window rolled down he leans over to me, “Matt took the Porsche.” He rolls his eyes and I hop into the passenger seat.

“Why are you out early?” He looks at me, “I got kicked out, just for today but they found out about us.” I put my seatbelt on, his eyes widen, “Oh shit, how?” He starts to drive and rests his hand on my thigh, “Mrs Winters was telling Ethan about your personal meeting with the Principal and Ethan borough up the insta story and everything and you know..” I sigh.

“I’m sorry ma.” He gives a gentle squeeze to my thigh, “No it’s okay, if I wasn’t an A+ Student I would’ve gotten expelled according to the Principal, they need me for their publicity purposes.” I laugh, he chuckles too. “Selfish fuckers, but it’s good for you.” We stop at a stop light and he looks at me, “Wanna go for food?” He smiles.

“Yes please, I’m starving.” I pretend to rub my stomach. “What does your stomach crave my dear?” He puts a fake posh English accent on and leans closer to me, “McDonald’s.” I nod grinning. “What fine cuisine.” He jokes still in the awful English accent. “You’re bad at the accent.” I smirk.

“We aren’t going to McDonald’s if you hate on my accent.” He huffs before smiling lightly. “It’s really bad though.” I snark, “don’t be bratty.” He scoffs at me and squeezes my thigh tightly. “I’m sorry, I love the accent.” I lie. “Okay we can get McDonald’s now.”

“What do you want, in advance?” He asks as he drives towards the McDonalds sign in the distance, “Hm, McNuggets please.” I ask in an overly polite tone, “Alright.” He replies, “We can get a share box if you want.” He pulls into the drive thru, “Yeah sure.”

He orders the nuggets, fries and drinks and we pick it up after he pays. We pull into the parking lot to eat the food, “You should’ve had a large fry like I did.” He spoke, stuffing his mouth full of fries. I laugh, “What?” He asks me, “Swallow your food before talking.” I continue laughing.

He finishes his fries before talking, “Y/n I have something I want to ask you, a serious-ish question.” He turns to face me fully, “Yeah? Ask me anything I smile at him admiring his features. “Would you.. do you think you- will you be my girlfriend?” He whispers slightly, my eyes widen and I smile at him. “Really?” I smile widely.

“No I’m just joking,” he sarcastically spoke, “Yes really? Will you?” He smiles, I nod quickly, “Yes! Of course.” I lean to him and grab his face before pushing my lips against his. His hand makes its way behind my neck to deepen the kiss. We part our lips and sit back down normally, “I’m glad it’s official now.” He eats some chicken McNuggets.

‘Yeah.” I smile, my cheeks flushed. I look down to eat the nuggets, “Chris!” I raise my voice, “What?” He asks. “You’ve eaten almost all of them! We said 10 each, you’ve eaten 14.” I pretend to cry, “I’ll go buy you more if you want? Sorry baby.” He goes to get out, “No it’s okay,” I laugh, “just let me eat the rest of them.

I snatch the box out of his hand and eat the rest of the 6 nuggets that are left. “Can I have some of your drink?” He asks me, “Drink your own.” I chuckle, “I did, it’s empty now.” He sighs, I scoff. “Fine have a sip.” I look at him to make sure he is, he gulps twice. “That was two sips.” I joke, “Don’t boss me around or I’ll chug it.”

“I’m breaking up with you if you chug my drink.” I laugh, he instantly puts it back down. “Also.. what you said yesterday?” I bring up the conversation we had yesterday, “Yeah?” He hesitates probably trying to remember what he said, I speak again..

“I think I love you too.”

A/n: Omg u guys it’s finisheddddd, I hope the ending is okay, I couldn’t be bothered to explain like any more of the school stuff in the story bc I felt like it was taking too much time but I hope y’all liked this series I loved writing it. New series at some point but I might take a slight break for a bit and only put out one shots for a bit js bc I need a break for a bit❤️❤️ love y’all!

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi @nayveetbhh @sturnsmadl @mattspleasure @m0r94n @raysmayhem-72 @flamethrower313 @carolinalikesthings @itssophiasstuff @joemamaaa42069 @creamoncreamoncream2 @conspiracy-ash

[fluentmoviequoter]

Defend Myself

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader (hockey fan & self-defence teacher)

Summary: During a hockey game, you get into a fight with the drunk man sitting beside you. When Tim Bradford arrives to break up the fight, he decides he'd like to see you again.

Warnings: fight between r and drunk man, unwelcome comments and grabbing (nothing overtly sexual or descriptive), fluff at the end, Tim and Aaron are sarcastic

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

A/N: Why I go back and forth between American and British spellings is a mystery.

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Alright, ladies,” you call to the self-defence class you’re teaching. “What’s the goal here?”

“Defend ourselves and protect our minds,” they reply.

“Right. Because learning how to fight and keeping yourself physically safe isn’t all that matters. Focusing on what can go wrong in life isn’t any fun, so while we work on self-defence, use it as anger management. Have fun with this!”

Your last class on Friday afternoons is one of your favorites. The women are always excited to learn, they listen well and use good form. Most importantly, they really understand your goal in teaching them. In addition to how great the group before you is, you also get to look forward to hockey after they leave. Whether it’s a game or just to watch practice, you find yourself at the rink most Fridays, and as many other chances as you can get. Hockey and self-defence are two of your favorite things, so afternoons like this are borderline magical.

“Uppercut,” you signal.

As you demonstrate the proper way to move into an uppercut after the warmup, you watch the class.

“Can I ask a question?” a woman in the back row asks between moves.

“Of course,” you reply with a smile.

“Have you ever had to use these moves in real life? Like, to defend yourself?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But that’s why we learn it, right? If we know how we don’t have to live in fear about the when.”

“Which is why we chose the bear,” another girl murmurs.

“Can’t always choose. Preparation is key, and knowing how to react is the most important thing you can learn as a woman.”

“Fighting can be boring though,” someone groans.

“Clearly, you’ve never been to a hockey game. Let’s focus, ladies. Take a breather before we move into strength drills.”

You grab your water bottle from the floor and survey your classroom. Hockey fights are certainly more entertaining than fighting to defend yourself, but you enjoy both.

Los Angeles isn’t necessarily known for its hockey scene, but the arena is packed tonight. Your season pass with the seat on the ice is getting plenty of use this year, and as you sit back to watch warmups, you can’t help the smile that grows on your face.

As the crowd grows and the first period gets nearer, two men take the seats to your right. You nod politely when they greet you, but quickly return your attention to the players preparing to skate out. While the announcer introduces the teams and prepares the fans for a good game, you glance toward the men beside you. The one closest to you seems to already be buzzed, and the oversized cup of beer between his legs doesn’t instill confidence in you. Hopefully, he’ll stay quiet, you think. Cheering for your team is one thing but you know too well how quickly a drunk hockey fan can ruin a night. Anyone who’s been to a hockey game can probably imagine your concern.

You try to ignore him as he gets more talkative, but in the middle of the first period, he drains the remainder of his beer and turns toward you.

“Pretty little thing like you prob’y has some questions,” he says. “I can explain it t’ya.”

“I’m good,” you answer firmly.

“If t’changes,” he slurs as he turns away.

It won’t.

The bell rings and the teams leave the ice as the crowd rises in mass. You stay seated comfortably in your seat as your drunk neighbor leaves with his friend. Since you told him you didn’t need his help, he’s left you alone. As long as that continues, you’ll be able to enjoy the rest of the game, and maybe witness a hat trick from your favourite player.

“Here,” your neighbor says as he returns. “Looked thirsty.”

He shoves a cup of soda toward you, and you push it back. “I don’t want that.”

“Just try’na be nice!”

As he falls back into his seat, you lean toward the side to get some room. His arm moves to the armrest between you as he reaches his fingers toward your leg.

“Don’t touch me,” you tell him as you knock his hand back into his lap.

“Jus’ a pretty lil’ thing,” he murmurs as he leans over the armrest.

“Sir, get him under control,” you say to his friend.

“He’s not my problem,” the other man answers.

“Stop.”

He rolls his eyes as if you’re overreacting and sits back in his seat. Your fists are clenched tightly as you watch him move away from you, and you’re mad that he’s causing you to miss so much of the game and keeping you from enjoying it.

“Los Angeles, make some noise for the third period!” the announcer yells. “We’ve got a tight game and tighter teams. Make it a night to remember, LA.”

“Night to r’mem’ba sounds pre’y good.”

You take a deep breath before you raise your eyes. Somehow, your neighbor got more drunk in the short break between the second and third periods than the rest of the game combined. He reaches toward your arm, and when you pull away, he frowns and steps to stand over you where you sit.

“Leave me alone,” you demand as you stand.

After you put a bit of space between you, you notice that the people sitting behind you are watching you. You don’t care, however, as he throws an empty cup toward you. You move out of the way, and it isn’t until he lunges toward you that you truly react. Your fist makes impact with his jaw before he finishes stepping forward.

“Fight!” someone yells behind you.

You plan to do just that. If he can’t understand no or stop, maybe he’ll understand some of your favourite self-defence moves.

“Reports of assault at Honda Center: fight in progress. Attendees have made numerous reports of disturbance,” dispatch alerts.

“Responding,” Tim replies. “Code 3.”

“Aren’t there supposed to be fights at hockey games?” Aaron asks. “That’s, like, half of the draw.”

“On the ice. Fights off the ice are a regular occurrence,” Tim answers. “Usually drunk rival teams.”

“Easy to break up?”

“Sure. If you think pulling a guy who can’t feel anything off of another guy who doesn’t even remember why he’s trying to kill someone else easy, absolutely.”

“Could’ve just said no,” Aaron mumbles as Tim turns.

“Man, back up!” a security guard demands.

He grabs your attacker’s shoulder and tries to pull him backward, but it doesn’t work. As you prepare to throw another punch, you see that the drunk guy’s eye is black and swelling, his lip is busted, his nose is bleeding, yet he still isn’t quitting.

“Jus’ stop playin’!” the man demands as he grabs for your waist.

You push his wrists away and shove him against the glass dividing you from the ice. He elbows backward, but you block it with your forearm as he yells at you.

“The police are on the way!” someone yells from higher in the seats.

“Get off me!” the man roars as he pushes himself backward.

You manage to catch yourself before he shoves you against the seats. When he raises his hands toward your chest, you raise your right leg into a front kick and momentarily stun him into remaining still.

“Kick his butt, lady!” a man cheers.

“LAPD,” Tim announces as he and Aaron enter the arena. “Where’s the fight?”

“Follow me,” the guard replies.

He leads them into the section where the crowd has gathered to watch the fight. The moment Tim sees the number of people invested in the fight and the suspended timer above the rink, he expects the worst.

“Call for backup, Bradford?” Aaron asks.

“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Tim answers.

“I doubt the guy can go for much longer anyway,” the guard adds. “She knows what she’s doing.”

Tim doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means before he reaches the center of the crowd. He watches you elbow the man under his chin. As Aaron takes a step toward you, Tim extends his arm to stop him. You’re clearly winning, but the guy is too drunk to realize that he can’t keep going. He’ll realize just how badly he lost once the alcohol wears off. A night in lockup would do that nicely, Tim thinks.

The man steps back and prepares to jump at you, but Tim grabs his shoulder from behind and throws him against the glass before he shoves the man to the floor. With his knee pressed into the man’s kidney, Tim secures the handcuffs on his wrists.

“Take him,” Tim tells Aaron.

Aaron nods and yells for the crowd to clear a path. He follows a small group of security guards as he walks back to the shop.

The crowd around you begins to spread out the moment your attacker is ripped away from you. You take a deep breath and nod at the officer who helped you.

“You alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer with a smile. “Little tired. Thanks for the assist, Officer Bradford.”

Tim watches your eyes rise back to his face after reading his name tag. He smiles at you just before the buzzer over your head rings as the game resumes.

“You wanna stay?” he asks over the sound of skates and cheers.

You shake your head and follow him to the staircase. Once you’re in the main area of Honda Center and the noise of the game is muffled, Tim turns toward you.

“That was impressive,” he applauds. “I’ve been called to more fights than I can count. Never seen one under control like you had it. You, uh, you clearly won.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to commend me for getting into a fight, officer,” you tease.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he asks.

“I teach a self-defence class for women,” you explain. “Been fighting for a while but honed my skills for safety more than entertainment.”

“Then they were wrong.” At your confused look, Tim clarifies, “911 dispatcher said there was a fight. You were just defending yourself.”

“He was drunk and didn’t understand when I told him to stop.”

“Which I am allowed to commend you for.”

You smile at Tim again, and he decides that he needs to see you again. More than being impressed by the thorough beating you delivered to the man who was harassing you and trying to touch you, Tim finds you incredibly beautiful, and he knows you’re talented and care about others. He doesn’t want this to be a one-time encounter.

“Have you ever considered hosting a class for the police department?” he asks, looking for a way to ensure he can talk to you again soon. “We bring in instructors from the city occasionally to host free classes. You’d receive compensation, of course.”

“I haven’t, but it does sound nice. If more women knew how to defend themselves, it might make your job easier.”

Tim agrees as he hands you his card. “Call the station in the morning and we can work something out. If you need a teacher’s assistant or anything, I’d be happy to help, too.”

You tap his card against your thigh as you say, “I’d like that.”

“Bradford!” his partner, Thorsen – you feel like you should recognize the name but don’t – calls. “We got another call.”

“Sorry,” Tim tells you. “Hopefully I’ll see you at the station soon.”

“I think you will.” When you smile at him this time, Tim feels like you punched him, too.

[77gigabytes]

Pinpricks {Miya Atsumu x Reader}

You know... All this brain juice should really be going into writing my assignments, but it’s whatever :D

Anyway, I'm thinking of posting a masterlist soon, there's not a whole lot, but please look forward for that! :D

-Seven

You and Atsumu have been friends for as long as you can remember.

Not too long ago, after he had won a championship game, you confessed your feeling to him.

“I’m sorry, YN, I just… I just asked another girl to a date a few days ago.”

A thousand needles. All over your body.

“Oh.”

Tears prick at your eyes and you clench your hands to will yourself from letting them drop.

“That’s,” You give him your best smile, “That’s great!” You chuckle a little.

You both know it’s the kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

Who were you trying to fool?

You laugh a little - as a coping mechanism or from embarrassment, you don’t know.

“Hah, forget I ever said anything then.” You shy away from his gaze.

“YN.” He says as he reaches his hand out, “Look-”

“No,” You’re quick to cut him off. You tuck your hands around your waist and lean back ever so slightly, “I, uh…” You clear your throat to stop your voice from shaking, “I should get going.”

You turn to leave.

“YN, wait I-”

Act normal.

You’re fine.

Haha.

You lift a hand to wave at him, “I’ll see you around, Tsu-” Your hand drops slowly. Tsumu? Could you even call him that anymore? You bet his new girlfriend would.

With these thoughts in mind you quickly correct yourself, “Atsumu.”

You don’t think you’ve ever gone this long without talking to Atsumu. Well…Aside from greeting him like you normally would. Or at least as best as you can without breaking down.

In between classes, you take the most convoluted route possible. At break times, you hide yourself amongst your girl friends; forgoing the rooftop to eat in the crowded cafeteria.

In some classes it’s quite hard to avoid him when he literally sits next to you.

“Pssst. YN.” He leans towards you.

You spare him a glance, “Shh.” You give him your best glare, “I’m trying to write notes.” You speak while scribbling in your notebook, “You know this topic is hard for me.”

Not true... But it was your best excuse.

From the corner of your vision, you see him narrow his eyes.

With your eyes trained on your notes, all you can hear is a huff and tearing of paper.

Moments later said piece of paper lands on your desk.

I need to talk to you after class.

You turn to him, who already has his eyes trained on you.

You answer with a subtle shake of your head.

To which he replies with a frown before turning to write another note.

You’ve been avoiding me

You hold the note in your hands and stare at it for a few seconds.

You look up at the ceiling and blow out a breath before writing down a reply.

Fine. After class. 2 minutes.

Short and sharp.

You pass the note back to him and he looks to you with a smug smile.

But pins prick at your heart once again.

You once thought of confessing by passing a note to him like this...

After all, it was something you two did almost every day.

Just how long had you been harbouring these feelings?

It doesn't matter, it's too late now.

…

You don’t think you’ve ever dreaded the end of class as much as you have right now.

Everyone is speeding away, having thrown all their belonging into their bags to head to lunch.

But your hands are shaking as you pick up your notebooks.

What am I supposed to say to him?

Lost in thought, you don’t realise that Atsumu is holding your pencil case for you to pack away into your bag.

He’s standing in front of your desk with his bag slung over his shoulder, “YN?” He asks.

Snapped out of your trance, you look up from where your seated but don’t answer him.

“Let’s go,” He laughs lightly, “Ya only gave me two minutes, I gotta hurry.”

You take your pencil case, “Right…” You whisper, “Thank you.”

“C’mon.” He motions to the door with a nod of his head.

Languidly, you follow after him. Every step pinches at your heart.

“Look Astumu,” You try to beat him to the chase, “I-”

But he cuts you off, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You bite your lips. Of course I have. You think.

He places a hand on your forearm, “I told you, you don’t have to be awkward with me.”

You almost scoff at him, “It doesn’t— I can’t just—” erase my feelings for you.

With a deep breath, you gather your thoughts, “I—” You look up at him, “I just need some time to get used to it.”

You gently cover his hand with your own, “I’m embarrassed enough as it is.” You admit and dip your head as you feel the tears rising, “I’ll—” You pull his hand away, “I’ll come to you when I’m ready, Atsumu.”

“And when will that be?” He whispers.

You can only shrug.

He sighs, “You’re my best friend, YN.”

That’s what makes it hurt more. You grit your teeth. Why can’t he understand that?

“I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

Again... A thousand needles. All over your body.

You close your eyes for a moment as the tears threaten to spill over.

“Neither do I.” You hate the way your voice shakes.

“Atsuuuu~” It’s his girlfriend’s sickly sweet voice.

You quickly wipe your tears and turn to leave, “I have to go.” You point behind you with your thumb, “I have to borrow PE clothes from a friend.”

One thing that is both a blessing and a curse about being friends with Atsumu is that you inevitably become friends with his twin, Osamu.

“You know you can’t avoid him forever.” Osamu says, leisurely leaning back in his seat in front of you.

You scowl, “Watch me.”

You know this is misplaced anger, but this heavyhearted feeling is becoming too much to bear.

“Will you at least come for our birthday later this week?”

Your body goes slack.

You've never missed their birthday, and they've never missed yours.

It was an unspoken promise at this point, one that you, unfortunately, think you can no longer keep.

…

When the morning of their birthday arrives, you’re curled up in bed.

You’ve been vomiting all morning; feeling lightheaded with a fever but feeling so cold all the same.

Osamu came by a while ago. He was meant to pick you up and head back to their place to celebrate their birthday.

“Just take the presents.” You groan as you prop yourself up, “The blue one is for Atsumu. This black one is yours.”

You began preparing their presents months before today - collecting little volleyball trinkets that you think they would have liked.

You gather the blankets around your body and take small steps to the presents you prepared.

With all the strength you can muster, you give him a smile and say, “Happy birthday, Osamu.”

... and Atsumu

…

When Osamu arrives home, he delivers the present on your behalf, “Here, Tsumu. This is YN’s gift for you.”

He smiles when he takes the box, “Oh, nice. Thank you—” He looks around... Behind Osamu... To the door, “YN?” He says slowly as he tilts his head.

“She’s sick.” Osamu explains, “She was vomiting all of last night and this morning when I came to pick her up.”

Atsumu frowns at that, “What?”

Why didn’t she call me?

When your eyes blink open, you see Atsumu sitting on your bed.

He lifts his hand to your forehead and greets you with concerned eyes.

I must be seeing things.

“I’m going crazy.” You mumble and turn your back to the figure. I guess I’m more ill than I thought.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” The voice is crystal clear in your ears.

“Nope.” You push your fingers into your ears, “Go away. I just need more sleep." You nod your head, "That’s probably it.”

Atsumu pulls one of your arms away, “Why didn’t you call me?” He asks, barely above a whisper.

You freeze at the realisation. It’s not a dream… He’s actually here.

“You always call me.” He mumbles and turns to tuck the blankets under your feet, “You hate being sick.” He states.

You watch him fix the blankets some more before asking, “What do you mean?” You croak out, “It’s your birthday…”

He turns to look at you, “So?”

You blink at him confused, “Soooo…” You drag out, “I’m not gonna call you to take care of me.”

He doesn’t speak, but his gaze is too tender to simply be concern for someone who is sick.

It makes you feel uneasy and you fidget under the blankets, “I’ll be fine. Where’s Osamu? You should head back.” You ramble.

You grunt as you sit up, “Go.” You urge him by pushing his shoulders with whatever strength you have left, “You’re missing out on your own birthday party. I’ll be fine.”

“YN…” It almost sounds like a plead.

“Just go.”

But, you can be just as headstrong as he is, “Just go, Atsumu.”

A few beats of silence passes and he stands up on his own accord.

You r gaze drops to your hands in your lap, but you can hear his footsteps fade followed by the click of the door.

You didn’t actually think he would leave.

But he was right, you hated being sick and he would always be the one to take care of you.

But things have changed between the two of you. He has someone else he has to take care of now.

Your body falls back onto the bed at the thought.

You pull the blankets closer to your body to muffle the cries that fall from your lips.

Crying when you were sick was always the worst. The tears feel so much hotter on your cheeks. Like little pinpricks to your eyes.

Atsumu used to be the one to wipe them away.

For now, they’ll just have to soak into your pillowcase.

The first thing you feel when you wake up again is the cold towel on your forehead.

When you look around, you notice that there’s a humidifier on your nightstand and another blanket draped across your body.

“What?”

As you try to make sense of the situation, a loud bang comes from behind the door followed by a string of curse words.

Huh?

You groan as you sit up and your vision sways from having laid down all day.

As you stand, you have to brace yourself against the bed momentarily as your body aches in complaint.

When you exit your room, you’re greeted with the sight of Atsumu crouched down on the kitchen floor, rubbing the top of his head.

“You’re awake.” He says, “Ugghh,” He presses against the sore spot, “I was tryna cook, but damn, your rangehood is so low.”

You’re speechless for a moment, “Why… Why are you still here?”

He places a pot onto the stove as he answers, “Well, yer super sick, why wouldn’t I be here?”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t even the least bit happy to see him here, but of course you’ve got a traitorous mouth, “Atsumu, I told you that I’d be fine.’

He shakes his head, “You were 38 degrees before I left.” Then makes his way over to the dining table, rummaging through a plastic bag, “You need ta take some meds. Come here.” He beckons you over with a wave of his hand.

Your feet moved on their own and before you knew it, you were inches away from him.

But of course, you’re still at war with yourself, “Just go.” You bring a hand up to stop him, “I’ll take them later.” You assure him

But evidently, it does nothing of the sort.

He looks at you with a frown, “Why do you keep brushing me off? Telling me to go away?”

“Because it hurts seeing you here, okay?!” The words fly out of your mouth in a tone you didn’t quite like.

Your chest heaves as you admit it to him.

But your outburst is met with cold silence.

“I really can’t see you right now.” You say through clenched teeth, “I want to stay friends, I do. I want to go back to how we were before… Before all this.” Your hands motion between the two of you, “But it’s so hard, okay?” You look up at him, searching for anything in his eyes.

When he says nothing, you curl into yourself, “Just…Just leave me alone. You’ve done what you need to do.” You place a hand at his back in an attempt to guide him to the front door, “We can end everything here and I…”

You pause as he begins to push back against your hand, “I don’t want to see you again.” You mumble.

Swiftly, he turns around and grabs the plastic bag from the dining table

Oh, right… He can’t just leave without his stuff. You think

But he turns and grabs your wrist as well and leads you back to the bedroom.

“Atsumu! What are you— Let go!”

“Lay down.”

“What?”

“You’re not in your right mind, right now.” He throws the blanket over you. “We can talk when you’re better.”

“Atsumu!”

“— No.” He says sternly.

His tone is enough for you to cease your struggling.

“Sleep.” He guides you to lay down, “We’ll talk when you’re not sick.”

“ You—”

“Enough.” He cuts you off whilst jabbing the sheets between the bed and your body.

You huff in defeat and childishly untuck yourself, “You can’t just bulldoze your way—”

“I said enough.”

In anger you glare at him and it’s only then that you see the hurt that's masked behind his sharp tone.

It catches you off guard.

As he turns to leave, he says, “I’ll... I'll wake you up when I’m finished cooking.”

Why do I hurt myself like this? hahahha

-Seven

[iamthatonefangirl]

harvey specter headcanons pt. 3

i'm running out of ideas maybe it's time for me to write an actual fic. i love hiding behind my little one-liners or individual paragraphs i'm too insecure to post real fics. it's okay tho i am loving getting back into writing

part one

part two

~~~

harvey specter, who is subconsciously obsessed with always resting his hand on your back. who does it without even noticing he’s doing it—whether you’re taking a stroll, or he’s holding a door open and ushering you in, or sitting in his lap having sex—he’s always got his hand on the small of your back. 

harvey specter, who never misses an opportunity when he sees it. if you’re bending over or preoccupied with a task, he’s always going to take the chance to smack your ass.

harvey specter, who sees red when he sees you shaking hands with travis tanner in the lobby. who keeps his cool as he walks up to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and questioning tanner, what are you doing here? 

harvey specter, who finally gets the chance to see you in action at work. when confronted by another employee, you stand your ground and don’t take any shit from him. who has never been more proud or turned on by it. 

harvey specter, who joins you in the shower to wash your hair for you after a long day at work, or (and) after an intense gym session. who you return the favor to by massaging his back after his own exhausting days or workouts. 

harvey specter, who finally opens up to you about his issues with his mother. who pulls you closer when you tell him that you agree with him on the matter, that he did the best he could with the cards he was dealt. who sheds a few tears when you tell him it’s not your fault, baby. 

harvey specter, who will forever wish you would have been able to meet his father. who is glad that you get to have the relationship with your mother that he never had with his own. who hopes your father isn’t completely appalled that his daughter’s boyfriend is closer to his age than yours. 

harvey specter, who finally agrees to a vacation. who takes you to all the places you’ve always wanted to travel to but never had the opportunity to go. who lets you pick all the destinations and outings you’ll have, while he makes sure the first class seats and five-star hotels and high-end restaurant dinners are booked far in advance. who would only ever let you travel with such luxury. 

harvey specter, who supports all of your dreams. who knows that not now, but in the next few years, you may be looking for a career change. who is ready to sacrifice whatever is necessary to support you through the schooling you may have to go through to make such a change. 

harvey specter, who knows that you’re not ready to get married. who knows that you’re far too young to get married. but who knows that he’s not getting any younger, and doesn’t know how to respect your youth while planning for his future. who worries that while you might be his happy ending, to you, he might be a stepping stone to where you’ll be in ten years. who thinks that you might pass him by, and who knows he has no choice but to support you if life takes you away from him. who knows he’ll never move on, even if you do. 

harvey specter, who knows that you both work too much. who knows that you spend all your free time and weekends together. between his love of his work, his friendships with his colleagues, and his relationship with you, he is satisfied. but he knows you are far more social than he is, and he will encourage you to go to spa nights and girls trips with friends. who is proud that you have a life that you love, and he will always be there to supplement whatever you need to keep it that way. 

nsfw ones:

harvey specter, who would put your pleasure above his every time. who is happy to service you. who can’t get off until he knows he’s pleased you to your satisfaction. 

harvey specter, who knows that you’re more game to try things out than his other partners. call it a benefit of your youth, if he might. 

harvey specter, who takes off his button-down shirt and dresses you in it. who binds your wrists together with his necktie and teases you for what feels like forever, before fitting his index and middle fingers into your mouth. who finally slips those two fingers into your underwear and ever so faintly begins to touch, whispering into your ear: does that feel good? hmm? just relax… i’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.

[toulousewayne]

Batfam and Batsis Headcannon: Ages 17-21

Tim:

Timothy Jackson Drake, was a little menace. Y/n knew that from the Time she found him on her doorstep. Tim was the first person Y/n felt like she had to really be careful of her actions in front of. Not because Tim would copy her but because she felt like she was supposed to set an example something she never had to do.

Tim becoming Robin was a bit of a blur for her, she just remembers them patrolling a lot and Tim asking her a lot questions in the beginning.

Tim didn’t live at the manor right away in fact it was a bit into his career before he fully moved in after his parents respected passings.

Tim felt guilty for not saving his father and Y/n spend a lot of time with him to help resolve this feelings because it wasn’t Tim’s fault.

Tim was the little brother she always wanted, he steal her eyeliner and she storm into his room and pick with him while Kon,Bart and Cassie would come over. They loved Tim’s cool older sister and she liked them.

Tim had trouble with words, especially with his feelings. It was no surprise to anyone that Tim walked into his sister’s room on a random Thrusday Night with blush on his face.

“What is it Little Bird?” She inquired while still having her face shoved in a Physics textbook.

Scratching the back of his neck and breathed out a strangled sign,” How do you know when you like someone?”

Y/n turned her gaze to him,”Like or Like Like?”

“Like like.”

“Boy or Girl?”

His blush grew even darker,”Well uhh..”

“Doesn’t matter to me, but just be your normal dorky self. Just don’t word vomit. You tend to do that Little Bird.”

Tim came out to his older sister first years later because she made Tim feel seen but not like it wasn’t a big deal.

Tim and Y/n formed a a very fun bond, it even rivaled his bond with Dick which made the older man a little jealous but it made him become more active with his younger brother which was something Y/n wanted him to do.

Patrol with Batgirl, Robin and Nightwing were the most comical nights Gotham had seen. You had a detective smartass Robin, a chatty hot headed older Bird, and the sassy and mysterious Batgirl. Riddler still has nightmares.

But things began to change and soon other additions became known.

Cassandra:

Y/n had made it clear to Bruce that she wanted a sister, not that she didn’t enjoy her time with Tim and Dick and even Jason. But she wanted someone who could relate to her.

One night after patrol Y/n returned to the Clock Tower and was introduced to Cass. She didn’t talk and once Barbara told her about what happened to her it only made Y/n more protective of her.

Between her and Babs Cass began to think for herself and not like how she was programmed by her father. Barbara taught Cass more about personal and emotional development, but Y/n showed Cass how to be a teenage girl.

She took her to the mall with Tim and let her pick out clothes she felt comfortable with, she let Cass take clothes from her closet in the end because it made her feel connected to people.

Y/n was training and Cass enter the room,”Sorry didn’t realize I was taking so long, I’ll clear out if you like.”

“No,your fine.” Cass responses. Cass takes a stance in front of her. Y/n gets in stance and they too spar. Cass can quickly match Y/n’s attacks and defenses.

The two sparred for a few hours before calling it. “Not bad Sis, how about a Root Beer Float on me?”

“Okie.”

Y/n wraps her arm around Cass and the pair walk out the gym. They two Wayne Sisters scare Bruce. And most men except Alfred.

Y/n was getting ready to graduate Gotham Academy with Honors and she felt kinda sad and Cass appeared before her and engulfed her in a hug.

“She would be proud.” She knew Cass was referring to Y/n’s Mom. “Thank you Sissy.”

Everyone attended,Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Barbara, Tim, and Cass. She was so happy and Bruce threw a party at Wayne Manor for the graduation class.

Y/n took Cass from a group of kids she met at school and took her to her room.

“Cass I your aware that I’m leaving in a few weeks for college in Metropolis.” Cass nodded.

“As much fun as it would be to tag along with Uncle Clark, I just won’t have to time or really need to patrol. Which is why I talked to Babs a few days ago and I’m stepping down as Batgirl.”

Cass understood what she was saying but she also knew how hard Y/n worked to become the new Batgirl.

Y/n took a black box and handed it to Cass. “Me and Babs think your ready and I couldn’t ask for someone else to carry on the mantle.” Cass tore open the box to find her own Batgirl suit.

Tears formed in Cass’s eyes and she hugged Y/n

“I won’t let you down.”

“I know sis, your gonna rock.” Y/n smiled and hugged her back.

Stephanie:

Y/n had taken a step down from being Batgirl full time meaning for a short time Robin patrolled alone. She felt guilty but soon she learned that her little bird had a friend.

Y/n meet Stephanie when Tim and her became official, this was only a few months before she totally resigned from the mantle but she did get to work with Steph a hand full of times.

One of the last times was when ClueMaster escaped from Blackgate and threaten Stephanie’s Mom.

Spoiler spring into action and Batgirl responded to Oracle’s request to assist her. The two formed a plan of action to enter Stephanie’s Mom job and save the hostages.

“You take the left side and I’ll go right. Take the goons out swiftly and hard.”

“Rodger that Batgirl.”

The pair made quick work of the goons, and finally found ClueMaster who had Steph’s mom hostage.

Once they save her she was anything but thankful and resented her daughter for re-prisoning her father.

Batgirl called her own and made the woman feel bad but the damage was done as Stephanie told Batgirl on a rooftop later that night, she learned that she wasn’t to blame for her parents choices nor should she have to atone for her father’s sins.

“Your Steph, never let anyone tell you stop being who you are and never stop being a light for others.”

Even once Stephanie and Tim relationship became more friendly and less romantic Y/n loved the blonde just as much.

Steph would drive up on the weekends with Cass and visit her in college. They would go shopping, try new restaurants and go fun amusement parks.

Stephanie and Y/n become really good friends and if Y/n needed to talk someone who was her siblings or Dad Steph was always willing to listen.

Jason Pt 2:

When Red Hood first emerged Y/n was away in school and no one told her. She had a long weekend and came home to surprise her family. Alfred was the most surprised to find her at the door but by the look on his face it didn’t seem like she was the first surprise this week.

She soon found out about Dick’s bruised ribs and broken leg, and Tim being attacked at Titan’s tower. Even Bruce had token a beaten from his last encounter with Red Hood and Y/n was furious.

“HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL YOU GOT HURT!” She scolded her father.

“y/n, please we didn’t want to worry you, we have everything under—“

She scoffed,”Like Hell you do! Your hurt Dick is black and blue,and Tim looks like he just did three tours in World War Two.”

She bit her tongue,”Who is he Father?”

Bruce sighed,”Y/n..”

“I won’t ask twice.”

Bruce didn’t answer her but instead pressed the button on the computer that light up with the DNA test he just got the results back minutes before her arrival.

Over the course of a minute several different emotions washed over her face and it landed on stoic. She turned on her heels and left the cave with Bruce calling for her to wait.

In a hours time she stood in front of a door in an abandoned apartment complex and knocked on the door. When no once answered she kicked the door down. And in the center of the room was a man laughing with a sack on his head as he was tied and chained to a folding chair.

She marched to him and ripped off the sack and there was bloody and bruised Joker.

“Ooh hello your the beautiful Wayne Daughter that left. Welcome back cupcake.” He chuckled. The sound of the gun clicking filled the room with Joker’s blooded laughing.

“Turn around.” The deep voice ordered. Smirking to herself, “if you were gonna shot me you’d pull the trigger already big brother.”

The room is silent and before Red Hood screams in pain, when Y/n turns around his hand is bloody and a Batarang is on the ground.

“Stand down Jason, he’s not worth it.” Batman brooded.

“You never understood me Old man, I never wanted to kill innocent people. Not Harvey,not Bane just him. He took me away from you..from her. From everything.”

The two had a heated argument and fight that ended with Bruce shielding Y/n from the explosion of the building.

Y/n returned to Jason’s grave and laid flowers. Sighing to herself she stood up and turned to the tree adjacent to his grave.

“You could have found me, I would have helped you Jay. I still can.” Jason appeared in a hoodie and refused to look her in the eyes.

“You always saw the best in me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“Bullshit Todd, you can play that song all you want but it doesn’t work on me.” She snapped.

He finally met her gaze, it was the first time since prior to his death did she see his face. His blue eyes now a deep green, a white tuff of hair at the base of his hair, a scare on his left cheek, his eyes look tired as well.

“I’m not who I used to be, I’ve changed, I’ve killed and I can’t change that. They don’t see it but what I do is stop the murders, rapistst the monsters from hurting people.”

She signed,”I won’t lie and say Dad’s ways have flaws but so do yours,” she glanced at the tombstone and dusted it off.

“I remember you taking to me, you visted me all the time.” He grinned .

“And now your back.” She smiled

He didn’t meet her gaze,” it’s not gonna be happy in the Manor, maybe never again.”

“You could try to find out what you want Jay, not many get a second chance at life.”

He nodded and with that he sighed with a grin,”I make no promises, I’ll see you around sis.” And he left the graveyard and she sighed to herself knowing that it was possible but it would take sometime for them to get Jason back.

When she returned to the manor she heard shouting and screaming. She rushed into the living room where Bruce and Dick were trying to keep Tim and and a young boy from killing each other.

“That fucking Demon cut me!” Tim shrieked.

“And I’ll draw more of your pathetic blood imposter.” The boy hissed being held in a tight grip by Dick.

“I can’t leave you idiots alone for five minutes!” Y/n snapped and all the eyes turned to her.

The boy with the deep copper skin and jade eyes was the first to speak,”Is she another one of your bastards you plucked off the sidewalk.” He hissed at Bruce.

Y/n eyed the boy before she turned back to her father,”And who might he be.”

“Damian, he’s your little Brother Y/n.” A tired Bruce clarified.

“Brother!”

“SHE’S MY SISTER!”

[smellystars]

School Blowout

Mr. Cruz is your average calc teacher at wellbring high school. Though what most don’t know is his constant gas problem. Mr.Cruz has had this problem his entire life constantly farting without end, no matter the situation and with age it has only seemed to get worse. What used to be a quick puff of air with a bit of a smell has become minutes long with a smell that packs quite a punch.

When quarantine came around Mr.Cruz was elated, he didn’t have to worry about taking breaks to rip or worry about anyone else smelling his gas and can rip as he pleases. It did become hard explaining why at random his mic would mute for a few minutes during meetings and online classes. To pass the time when not in classes, Cruz started to work out and order a few tubs of protein. Taking protein, working out and eating anything to bulk helped Cruz to get a body that anyone would call hot and a very plump and round ass that could turn heads. The unintended side effects, gas worse than anyone could imagine. A singular fart now has the force to rumble furniture, and a smell bad enough to cause unconsciousness from a single sniff. At worst a rumbling akin to an earthquake, a smell so bad that plants would wilt and die. Thus began the worst event to happen at wellbring high.

It was Thursday January 25, 2024 everyone was running to class not wanting to be late. The class was loud with chatter and laughter as the students talk amongst themselves. Suddenly a loud boom came from the hallway and the class goes silent. The students wonder what could have created that sound. After two minutes, Mr.Cruz walks into his class holding his stomach and says good morning to his students. A girl in the back of the class asks Mr.Cruz if he knows what that sound was. He responds, “ Yeah, sorry I couldn’t hold it i.” All the students laugh at the respond and tells Cruz that it isn’t possible for a singular fart to be that loud. “I take a lot of protein and you see what I’m working with back there, unless I actually try all my gas is going to be loud” he says then sits down as he groans in pain. The students then look at Mr.Cruz worried “Are you okay?” some of the students ask. Mr.Cruz doesn’t respond and all of a sudden a stream of gas leaves his behind, much louder than the one in the hallway. The students cover their ears in fear that their eardrums would burst. “Uhhhhh something I ate isn’t agreeing with me” Cruz says as he leans against the board, his ass facing his students. A loud gurgle is heard then

BRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMBBTT!!!!

A loud explosion from Cruz’s ass send desks and books flying as the students quickly evacuate the class. A rumble that can be felt all over the school as the principal turns on the intercom, “Everyone evacuate the school this is not a drill evacuate the school.” The principal thinking maybe a pipe somewhere burst leading to a gas leak. Mr.Cruz after hearing that tries to hold his gas long enough that everyone leaves the school knowing how bad the next gas attack is going to be. His stomach gurgling louder and louder as only two minutes pass. “I can’t hold it anymore, I have to let it out” with that Cruz let’s go

BBBBBRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNMMMMNNNNNNNNNMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTT!!!

A deep bassy and deadly fart leaves his ass making his cheeks jiggle as a rumbling that would scale a 9 on the richter scale bursts forth. Walls crack as he continues to rip, his gas spreading throughout the school creating a brownish haze. The cracked walls fully break turning to rubble as Cruz’s destructive fart continues without end. Window shatter as the only barrier between everyone outside the school is gone. The gas spewing outside the school like a rocket, plants wilting, birds and animals fainting from the smell. Students and faculty start to cough and gag on the smell, some trying to take shelter in cars and busses but nothing could protect them from Cruz’s gas cloud.

Another gurgle can be heard from Cruz’s gut, “uhh one more just push it all out at once then I’m done,” he says panting covered in sweat. He lays on his stomach arching his back and aiming his ass upwards, balling his fist and is pushing as much gas down as he can. He grunts

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRNNNNNNNNNMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNMMMMMMNNNNNNNNNMMMMMMPPPPPPPPPTTTTTTT!!!!!

The school is reduced to rubble, the roof was blown away in an instant, walls and floors reduced to rubble, the lockers and anything metal melted and rusted due to the heat. The gas cloud visible from the next town over, anyone close to the school on the floor unconscious due to the smell and heat. Cruz’s pants and boxers reduced to tears of fabric and his bare butt hanging out. “Uhh maybe I should cut down on the protein” as he wafts the air behind his ass.

[silverzoomies]

Alone

peter maximoff x reader fluff

warnings: fluff, humor, first meetings, pining, female reader

word count: 3,461

a/n: just a drabble i spent way too long on. based on something i used to daydream about a lot. happy late valentine's day !!

tag list: @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @icannot3 @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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Peter sits, slouched on the floor against the foot of a sofa. Glimmers of light flicker in his eyes, as he indulges in some mind numbing television. Reruns of Frasier play stereotypical laugh tracks, droning through the basement. He can’t help but follow suit. Chuckling along in quiet huffs, he shakes his head.

Upstairs, the house rests in silence. Dead quiet. Magda snores softly in her room. Lorna’s probably conked out too. And Wanda? She’s gone. Somewhere. He could never guess. She doesn’t tell anyone where she goes on weeknights. But hey, what’s it matter to him? So long as she’s playing it safe.

Peter snickers at another corny, sitcom joke. He guzzles down handfuls of Reese's pieces. The candies rustle in their small box. But with the rustle, his ears catch something else. Distant and faint. Outside the realm of television laugh tracks and candy clicks.

It’s a lyrical melody, playing with romantic cadence from outside the basement window. Peter tilts his head back, drinking a glass bottle Pepsi. Fizzy sweetness mildly irritates his throat. Raising a brow, he guides his gaze to the window. One more chug of his soda, and he snatches the remote.

The roar of sitcom television falls into stillness.

And sure enough, a tune whispers from beyond the window’s glass. Like the call of a sea siren through the neighborhood. But it’s 10pm on a Tuesday night. And the likelihood of a smokin’ hot siren crawling from the ocean - to a house in middle class suburbia - is beyond impossible. Unless Peter’s dreaming again.

In which case; wait for him, nautical dames. He'll grab his trunks and be out flash.

And the night goes by so very slow

Oh I hope that it won’t end though

Alone

Peter narrows his eyes at the window, scoffing to himself. Woah, now. Is he warped in the head? Or is the mantra of Heart crying out from beyond the shadows? Peter appears at the window in a zip. Raising himself on his toes, he launches his body upward. Through smudged glass, Peter’s black hues scan the world outside. A shadowy mass looms in the grass, imposing and somewhat terrifying.

Until he realizes, it’s someone holding a giant boombox over their head. Phew .

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone

Peter’s silver brows furrow again.

“What the hell?” He mutters under his breath.

He unlatches the window, pushing it open. Allowing that unmistakable tune to come through much clearer. Peter watches the mysterious, boombox stranger for a moment longer. A beat passes, and Peter sighs. He could just as easily zip out there, confront the culprit, and return to his basement lickety split. Instead, he opts for the casual approach.

Peter pushes himself through the window, his bare feet scuffing the basement wall. He accidentally kicks over a set of speakers. Some he stole five years ago and forgot about. They tumble off a wall shelf and crash hard onto the floor. Knocking down a bunch of stolen street signs in their wake. If Maximoffs weren’t such deep sleepers, he’d be in for it now. Big time.

As soon as Peter’s out, he stumbles in the grass. Mumbling a hushed - Shit.

You don’t know how long I have wanted

To touch your lips and hold you tight

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Crawling through the dry, winter grass, Peter finally stands. With an exhale, he wipes dirt from his grey sweatpants. The rando in his yard doesn’t react, but they lower the boombox a little. Peter waits at a distance, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Who are you? Whaddya wannnnnt?” He shouts.

Til now I always got by on my own

I never really cared until I met you

And now it chills me to the bone

How do I get you alone?

No response from the rando. With a simple gesture, they tap the speaker of the boombox. Whatever that means. Rolling his eyes, Peter strides across the cold grass. Shirtless in the brisk, February air. He raises a hand to scratch his messy, silver bedhead. As he moves in closer, the neighborhood street lights illuminate the figure’s features.

Up until now, he thought some weirdo guy snuck out to pine for Wanda’s attention. Peter’s ready to kick his ass if he needs to. Poor Wanda’s always got dudes falling to her feet on Valentine's day. But she usually does the ass kicking. More power to her.

Guess he won’t have to this time. Turns out, it’s just some weirdo girl.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

Peter puts a stop to the song before it reaches its end. Extending a hand in a quick blur, he abruptly clicks a button on the box. The neighborhood drowns itself in late night silence all over again. Interrupted only by the occasional car passing in the distance. Peter’s vascular arms cross over his chest. Lidded eyes leer straight at the mystery woman.

“Sooooooooo…” He tilts his head to the side, “Who are you? And why are you playing Heart outside my house at, like, ass-o-clock at night?” Peter pauses, eyes narrowing in suspicious slits, “Are you tryna pick up my sister? ‘Cuz you kinda look the type. And I know she’s been ‘tryin’ new things’ lately.” He gestures with air quotes, “If you catch my drift. Not that it’s any of my business. Point is , she’s not here.”

Boombox girl lowers said boombox down into the grass. She shakes her head, reaching into the pocket of her oversized cardigan.

“Pick up your sis- hah! ” She snickers with a snort, dawning a bashful smile. Boombox girl runs her other hand through her hair, “No! Noooo, it’s not like that! Uhm…I was actually playing Alone for you, silly.”

Peter drops his arms to his sides, and his heart skips a speedy beat. Scrunching his nose, he curls his lip.

“Youplayedwhatforwhonow?” He slides his hands into his sweatpants pockets, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. The apples of his cheeks burn, and Peter clears his throat, “Uhhhh. Okay. Thanks? That’s…sweet, I guess. But, I-I’m sorry, do I know you?”

Her smile’s kind of adorable. Especially as she rubs her neck, displaying timid hesitance. Whatever confidence she had, she must’ve maxed out on 80’s romance cliches.

“Not really? I mean, I’ve seen you around. A lot. But you’ve never really noticed me, so…”

Alrighty then. That makes this interaction even weirder. But Peter’s pulled equally weird - if not more desperate stops to win some hearts in the past. And he may or may not be guilty of the same technique she’s using now.

Give him a break, okay? So what if he took a chance on it once? Back when he was eighteen and leagues more naive. It’s a little cheesy, sure. But it’s also the story of how he lost his v-card. And not the Valentine’s kind.

Case in point, it worked for him. So, he’ll bite.

“And you thought crashin’ outside my house, blastin’ some corny song while my family’s asleep - that’s a smoother move than…oh, I dunno…just talkin’ to me?”

She shrugs again, her guilty eyes looking down at the grass. Boombox girl raises a foot, tapping the ground with the tip of her boot. God, she’s obviously so nervous. And he's not gonna lie, it's a little charming. The corners of Peter’s lips turn up in a grin.

“I thought it might get your attention. You just…you move so fast all the time. And I’m really slow when it comes to these kinds of things. You were always gone before I ever got the chance.”

“How’d you know where I live?” Peter throws her a nod of his head, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek.

Pulling her hand from her pocket, she fixes her attention on the plastic case of a cassette tape.

“My uncle tried to arrest you once.” She grins, “He was out on patrol. Saw you steal a speed limit sign. Your mom paid him to let you off the hook.”

Peter’s brows fly up under his bangs. His cheeky smile spreads into his dimples.

“Your unc-...seriously? Whoa. No kiddin’?” He laughs, “Wish I could say I remember. But that sorta thing used to happen to me all the time.”

Not like he wasn’t asking for it back then. But to be fair, Peter’s made some drastic improvements. When it comes to his klepto compulsions, anyway. Excluding the influx of junk food and Garbage Pail Kid cards he snags on a daily basis. From nation-wide chain stores. Totally ethical.

“Yeah, I know.” She giggles, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. This way, he actually gets a good look at her. Soft lips. Pretty eyes, “You used to be the talk of the station, where he worked. Those guys never shut up about you.”

Reaching forward, she passes Peter the cassette in her hand.

“What’s this?” He gently takes it, inspecting the hand-made label inside the case. Decorated in little, lightning bolt doodles. Even some hearts. Aw. Cute. Scratched across it in messy handwriting, are the words - For the kleptomaniac. In exchange for my heart. You stole it forever ago.

Come on. Could she be any more corny?

“It’s a mixtape.” She bites her lip like she’s terrified to keep talking, “It’s cool if you don’t listen to it. I dunno if you’ll even like what’s on it. But I know you carry around that Walkman all the time.”

Uh huh. Did her uncle tell her that too? Get outta here.

“Does it have Heart on it?” Peter flips the case over in his hand, pursing his lips.

“Of course it has Heart on it.”

“Awww. Givin’ me Heart for your heart.” He snickers, turning pinker in his cheeks, “This is legit the cheesiest thing a girl’s ever done for me. I’m kinda buggin’ out right now.”

“Oh yeah? I mean, I can always take it back, if you-” She teases, like she thinks he’s being sarcastic.

She reaches for the tape. But as her fingers brush the case, Peter raises it above his head. The motion happens quickly, before she can even keep up. Boombox girl wasn’t foolin’. She is slow. Slower than a turtle on tranquilizers. As she makes another attempt, Peter drops his hand in a speedy blur.

“Hey, hey, hey. Nuh uh. No takesie-backsies.” He teases, waving a finger, “A trades a trade, babe.”

Her hands rest at her hips, and she flutters her long lashes. So shamelessly flirtatious, but still not enough to win him over. Not just yet. Even if her bedroom eyes offer a tempting invite. Like, seriously, so tempting.

Mama didn't raise him like that, though. Peter has somewhat of a delinquent track record, sure. But he's still a good hearted gentleman. He'll take her out on a few dates first. Treat her to a little arcade romance, before he tries some no pants dancing.

If she's not playing him for a complete jackass, that is. Really, it’s almost too good to be true.

No chick has ever pined for him this hard in his life. And Peter’s never had the chance to play hard to get. He bets dollars to donuts, boombox babe probably isn't a mutie either. Talk about some major role reversal. How often does a human girl beg and plead for mutant man's love? She knows he's a total shut in, right? Or did her uncle not fill her in on that?

“You still have my heart, though.” She coos, gazing at Peter with those eyes.

Those - embrace me, o’ speedster man of my dreams - eyes.

Yeah. Her uncle most definitely didn't break the news. Peter hisses, teasing her again with a click of his teeth.

“Ooooh. Yeah. Well, finders keepers. Good luck shakin’ that silver lovebug.”

He flirts back and forth with her naturally. Kinda like high school sweethearts. It goes on for a few more minutes. Until he's pestered her enough, she just up and quits. Her car's parked down the street. A Volkswagen bug. Hah. And there she goes. Peter's secret admirer stomps off. Boombox swinging at her side. A wave of guilt almost pulls him under, and Peter starts to regret teasing her so much.

She laughs as she walks away. And the call of her giggle brings him back to the surface, much like a song. Seems like the sirens really did come out tonight.

So, she likes playing games too, huh?

You don’t know how long I have waited

And I was going to tell you tonight

Peter’s not even that much of a Heart fan.

He looks down at the cassette case in his hands. Rolling a thumb over a scratch in the plastic. A beat passes. In a flash, he appears in front of her. Peter walks backwards, padding barefoot along the side of the road.

“So, are you gonna ask me out ‘er what? C'mon, don't be chicken shit. I know you got it in you!” He jokes.

Boombox girl giggles so hard, she breaks out in dorky snorts. Ah, the sexiest, siren song. Too bad that's not a track on the mixtape. He’s willing to slip her some loose change for a raw recording.

By happenstance, another car slows to a stop. Right in the middle of the empty neighborhood street. Colored a familiar shade of scarlet, the vehicle looms for a beat or two. Peter comes to halt, watching as the passenger side window rolls down. Boombox girl crashes right into him.

Shit. Peter just now realized, he doesn't know her name yet.

He grabs her hips on instinct, catching her in case she falls over or something. Her free hand clutches his arm, right over the ‘mom’ tattoo etched into his skin. Naturally, Peter radiates enough warmth to act as a heater. He’s a godsend on cold, lonesome nights. Boombox girl presses her body closer to his, seeking his heat.

Peter knows she does it without thinking, since she whimpers a soft, “ Oh god. I’m so sorry. ”

“It’s cool. You okay?” Peter’s hands linger on her hips.

“What’s going on over there?” Wanda grills playfully from her car. She flits her eyes between her doofus brother, and boombox girl. When Wanda purses her lips, she does so in a way identical to Peter, “Is he giving you any trouble?” She asks what's-her-name.

Peter zips to the passenger side door, crossing his arms over it. Leaning against Wanda’s car through the window, he makes a pfffbbbbtt noise.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, Wands. I’m just walkin’ my future wife to her car.” He raises one of his hands, waving the cassette case, “Check it out, ah? She made me a mixtape! Cute, right?”

Wanda’s knits her brows as she tilts her head. The long, scarlet locks of her hair bounce with the motion. At the side of the road, boombox girl makes an adorable squeal. She covers her blistering face with her hands, mewling silent pleas.

“Oh my god stop. I’m sorry I even said anything. Oh my god. ” What's-her-name whimpers.

Which really isn’t helping the whole suspicious sister situation. Wanda leans back in her seat, peering over Peter’s shoulder at boombox girl. Narrowing her eyes, Wanda looks back at him. And before she can call Peter out on his bullshit, he lowers his arms from the door. Peter drops his chin to it, his tapioca eyes gazing up at Wanda innocently.

He chews his lip. In that ‘ I’m obviously up to no good’ kind of way.

“Y’wanna know what that cutie over there told me?” He purrs, talking loud enough for what’s-her-name to hear, "She said I stole her-"

Boombox girl shrieks, “MAXIMOFF! Please! That was a secret! I’m serious! You’re killing me here, dude!”

Maximoff?

Ohhhhh. She doesn’t actually know his name. Seriously? Didn’t what's-her-name say she’s pined after Peter for a while now? How long is a while? Long enough to know his address, apparently. And to know he likes listening to his tunes. And to know he’s a mutant with a rep for thieving. But not long enough for anyone to drop his name? Did the feds never bother learning it? Ouch. Figures.

“Piet.” Wanda leers at Peter, holding him at gunpoint with her eyes, “Leave that poor girl alone. Look at her! She’s had enough.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter stands up straight. Lazily, he smirks, waving a hand, signaling Wanda to drive off.

“Naaaah! You shoulda seen her back at the house. She’s hopelessly in love with me. Played songs outside my window. Y'know, like they do in the movies? I’m serious! You can ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.”

Once more, Wanda shifts her skeptical gaze to what’s-her-name. The mystery girl carries her boombox to her car. With her head dipped and a free hand over her face. She looks like she’s doing the walk of shame. As if Peter stole a little something else from her and-w hoops. That's also not helping his case at all. Wanda hums, doubtful of Peter’s unlikely story.

He cheeses a toothy grin, looking guilty.

“Really?” Wanda adjusts in her seat, reaching for the radio dial, “Well, you might wanna tell her goodnight. For a girl who’s totally in love with you , she seems in a heck of a hurry to leave.”

And with that, Wanda drives off. Peter stumbles back, his calloused heels scuffing concrete. Wanda’s car rolls all the way down the road and into the driveway. Whipping around, Peter catches what’s-her-name opening the trunk of her love bug. As she lifts the boombox into it, Peter zips up next to her. Latching his arms around the boombox, he gives her an aloof grin.

“Can I borrow this for a sec? Thanks, cutie.” He throws her a wink.

She doesn’t get the chance to ask why. Peter zips back to his spot on the side of the road, clicking a button on the boombox. He raises it over his head, letting Heart roar obnoxiously across the neighborhood. Disrupting the late night peace. Out the corner of his eye, Peter notices a few neighborhood lights come on. The song plays just as Wanda hops out of her car. She stops in the middle of her stride to the front door. Her bags hang from her arms and her keys dangle on her finger.

Wanda squints, eyebrows turned inward.

How do I get you alone?

How do I get you alone?

“I TOLD YOU! SHE’S TOTALLY IN LOVE WITH ME!” Peter yells.

A faint, red glow emanates from Wanda’s hand, as she delicately swipes it in the air. The boombox’s tape player pops open with an click, and Peter lowers the box down in front of him. He playfully pouts, muttering a soft booooooo to himself. Abrupt silence fills the entire neighborhood again, save for the local dogs barking in their yards.

“Say goodnight, Pietro.” Wanda’s voice calls from the driveway, before she disappears into the house.

Peter doesn’t even realize what’s-her-name is standing next to him, until she speaks.

“Pietro’s a beautiful name.”

Peter snickers, feeling heat rise in his cheeks again. Popping open the case she gave him, he swaps the tape for the one in the boombox. Rapidly clicking the volume button, Peter huffs a soft laugh, hooded eyes blinking.

"Thanks. I'd say the same about yours, but I don't even know it." He teases. A little shy, Peter keeps his eyes on the boombox, "I go by Peter, actually."

"Peter. Pietro. Whatever your name is, you embarrassed the shit outta me, man." What's-her-name scoffs. Peter kinda likes the sound of both names in her voice, "You're lucky you're gorgeous."

Gorgeous? Whoa. That's a helluva word. Shit, this really is too good to be true. Peter's heart skips another beat, and he shakes his head. "Y'know, if you still what your heart back, you're shit outta luck, babe." Peter clicks the play button on the boombox, only after some tension heavy beats pass, "Like I said, finders kee-"

An all too familiar melody pours from the boombox speakers, softer now.

I hear the ticking of the clock

I’m lying here the room’s pitch dark

“Seriously?” Peter laughs, slinging an arm over boombox girl's shoulders.

“Yeah, seriously. I told you it had Heart.” She blushes profusely, averting her innocent gaze.

Maybe there really is something to these 80's romance cliches. Peter's almost willing to give up his own heart. Just as compensation for hers.

[yuusishi]

Hmmm. I've got it!

Could I request headcanons of Epel, Riddle and Lilia (the short squad) with a s/o who's a tiny speedy powerhouse? Like their so small and petite but can pack a punch that can knock out a grown man and can run faster than the eye can see.

. . . BITE SIZED PUNCH!!

summary : the bowtie trio with a strong and speedy s/o !

pairings : Riddle Rosehearts , Epel Felmier , Lilia Vanrouge

genre : fluff , slight crack

cws/tws : fights and mentions of injury

a/n : I jus finished the lantern rite story in genshin and FUCK I cried for 10 mins, hope you enjoy the product of me trying not to fall asleep after crying <3

Riddle Rosehearts !!

Riddle probably didn’t meet you, or properly get to know you to be more accurate, until after his overblot. His impression on you for so long was just “small, most likely around my height, but very speedy”.

If you’re in Heartslabyul he most likely had you help around with more outdoor activities like cutting the hedges and gathering the hedgehogs since you can do more work and cover more ground.

But after officially becoming his s/o, that was when he discovered that GOSH you are strong.

He walked to a secluded hallway towards the library when he saw you getting picked on by a bunch of savanaclaw students, all of them double, no, triple your size.

Just when he was about to intervene you struck one of them up the chin and sent him flying.

Guy just stood there like 🧍‍♂️ the entire time.

“[Name], what in the Great Seven happened here!?” you heard him yelling from behind you and you thoroughly explained even if he witnessed the entire one sided brawl.

He helped you clean yourself up and take care of any injuries if you got any while giving you a VERY thorough scolding.

No matter how tired, exasperated, and angry he starts to sound while giving you a scolding, he doesn’t mean it. Although he cares about you and his’s reputations, they don’t come first to your safety and that’s Riddle’s number 1 priority.

The type to get EXTREMELY flustered when he complains about the once in a blue moon event of running late for class and you settle on picking him up off the ground and sprinting to each others’ classrooms.

Straight up almost blacks out on the spot, but both of you weren't late, so in the end he didn't complain <3

Epel Felmier !!

“YEAH, GET HIS ASS, [NAME].”

Your number 1 supporter when you (reluctantly) have to fight against a student.

WILL go feral once one of them seriously hurts you though. One of them could’ve just given you a scratch but Epel will return that tenfold for you.

I don’t think it needs to be said about how often you two get into scoldings with Vil and the punishments that occur.

So now you both settle with just doing heavy-lifting for events such as the VDC, mostly you though since Epel’s busy with performance practice.

When it was VDC season and his group had to pass by the stage where you worked to build, dude literally has to fight for his life not to become redder than the apples back at home when he sees you picking up the construction materials with ease.

Especially with Ace there 💀

As much as he wants to witness you fight even more he’d rather not get himself and you in any more hot water with Vil.

Definitely wants to help you and would rather spend his time working on the stage than all this dance practice, especially with you!!

If you pick him up and start running he’d be scared at first then start to enjoy the feeling of the wind hitting his face, carefree laughter belonging to you two filling wherever you are.

Sometimes, though, he gets jealous. He’s the same height and stature as you, but how are you stronger than him? You have to give him some reassurance or time alone based on his mood, but treat him to something after to not make him feel guilty over being jealous and to take his mind off those thoughts!

Lilia Vanrouge !!

You just surprise the old man every time you’re with him.

Like Riddle, Lilia didn’t have much of an opinion at you at first, you just kind of blended in the crowd for him before you both met.

But the first official time he saw you properly was during alchemy class when your cauldron was mere seconds away from exploding, you managed to pick it up and somehow toss it out the window.

Thankfully, it didn’t damage the sports field nor hit anyone, but you had to sit through a 2 hour lecture from Crewel because the two scenarios could’ve happened.

Malleus and Lilia were in the class with you and witnessed the entire spectacle, the smaller fae couldn’t help but babble on to the briar prince about how a tiny human could’ve picked up a cauldron that you were barely larger than, the only thing that Malleus said was how it reminded him of Lilia before letting him continue rambling.

The next day the tiny fae approached you for the first time, effortlessly making a conversation with you, and everything else that happened in the progression of your relationship is history.

He’s really amused as to how a human like you could even exist, you have no special blood right? Like ones of fae, beastmen, or mermen? No? Now you’ve just piqued his interest even more.

Your responses to his questions is just “I’ve just been like this since I was a child, maybe some things I did helped me build muscle”, and the interrogations continues.

After school Lilia likes having races with you, he soars through the sky while you ran as fast as you could on the ground. And to any student who knew of Lilia’s past (aka Silver, Sebek, and Malleus), they’d be in for a shock once they find out that most of the time it ended in a tie, even more if they were to witness one of those races for themselves.

Other students marvel at your strength but the diasomnia students pray to the Seven you’re strong enough manage to eat Lilia’s cooking.

If you do, the students look at you as if they’d made a scientific breakthrough, if you don’t, well they’re not surprised.

[lovelybeesthings]

Stupid bunny ch 1? 2 3

Coriolanus Snow x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Y/n Ashwood was the daughter of a very powerful family that was a part of the structure of the Capito, the Ashwoods had been one of the few honorable families to survive the falls of the most powerful families. Y/N was a very sweet innocent girl who never had to survive by eating raw meat or scraps and didn't have to fight for a scholarship to attend the Academy.

Alongside her wealth she was a beautiful girl with long lashes, rosy cheeks Doe eyes, and plum lips, her hair was in bubble braids or in long curls her hair was silky smooth by the touch of it and her looks were ones of a saint, y/n was looked at as a white soft rabbit or a doll to some as her life seemed to be in the hands of her family.

As Y/n attended the academy it was inevitable she was popular she had the looks and the Brain which amazed her peers how can a girl who looks like a saint and fragile to touch look at such hordes of sights? Y/n had known of the Snow family as they were one of a higher class but close to the bottom she knew exactly of Coriolanus Snow his long curly locks and his charming looks.

There was also one more reason Y/n Ashwood knew of Coriolanus Snow she had been his fiance since the moment they were both been born the Ashwoods and The snows had set the engagement in motion when y/n was 7 years old she met snow on one occasion and it was breath taking she still remembers it the way he had walked toward her as she hid behind her mother he took her hand and kissed it introducing himself.

*Present day*

As our days with our distracts pass soon to the games I notice how Coriolanus looks at his distract trains Lucy grey I’ve seen her girl from distract 12 I see the way she build skinny pretty from her distracts condition but to me there’s no hope a performer in an hunt I say shell die in the first 10 minutes but the way I catch his eyes longing at hers every moment at her*

My trainee was a boy named Reaper his build was strong and what I’ve read he had even attacked a peacekeeper which betters the odds.

“Coriolanus!” *I say as i see him alone for once passing by as I say his name he turns his head as his eyes lock to mine* “y/n?” *I walk closer* “I’ve missed you it’s been so long it just seems your time has been consumed so much into the game you know my family’s gonna. Host another dinner party you should come!” *I say smiling brightly* “I don’t think so I-i have to see how to better Lucy’s chances” *I look at him and my nose crutches from his response* “you mean your tribute right?” *I say harshly* “Yes, is their something the matter y/n?” *he responds more in colder tone* “it’s-s just seems like your mind is more on the girl then the goal of winning I mean she’s not the strongest tribute and doesn’t seem that smart” *I say as my words drop with venom getting so hung up on my words I don’t notice his expression to get more pissed* “Y/n! I have to spend my time on her, okay? I don’t have the riches to pay for the academy I need to be on this scholarship you can’t even view my point as your life is handed to you” *he says coldly making me shiver and I realize where I went wrong* “Coriolanus wait-t I didn’t, I wasn’t trying to make it seem that way!” *I say as my face blush’s from the embarrassment and I try to resolve this small argument* “y/n just shut it I have to get back to Lucy” *I feel this utter poison in me as I grab onto his shirt as he begins to walk away* “STOP! Don’t leave me!” *i say as a demand he quickly turns and looks at me but his eyes cold his look disturbed with my existence* “you’re just a stupid bunny” *he says as his words feel like a ridicule*

I’m end it here cause I started to hate it 🥲 if you have any suggestions or anything just tell me plz

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he���s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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