#i found my brown pens again

[cart00ni]

Warm

[dead-dove-yandere]

OC Intro - ╹◡╹

Secret Admirer Yandere

??? ♡ ??? ♡ Human? ♡ Office Worker

TW: Stalking, obsession, delusional behaviour, threats, mention of a blade, implied kidnapping/murder

♡ - You’re an office worker - it’s not your ideal job, but it pays the bills. You keep your work life strictly separate from the rest of your life, always keeping your head down and focusing on the task at hand rather than talking to any of your colleagues, but not working hard enough to get noticed for a promotion. You don’t plan to stick around in this career after all.

♡ - Any of your coworkers shouldn’t have known much about you at all. To be honest, you didn’t know much about any of them anyway. You were perfectly happy just blending into the background.

♡ - But, one Monday morning, as you near your desk, you notice something unusual. Pasted right on the corner of your computer monitor, sits a post it note. At first you assume someone missed you and wanted to leave a reminder for some kind of memo or meeting, but reading it sends a shiver down your spine.

♡ - “Have a wonderful day at work, honey. ╹◡╹”

♡ - You stare at the message on the yellow post it, written in red biro, trying to fathom who it’s from. You assume someone must have left it on the wrong desk by mistake, and throw the post it away.

♡ - The post its don’t stop though. Everyday you come to your desk and see a new one, all with similar cutesy messages, all signed off with that smiley face.

♡ - “Make sure to drink plenty of water! ╹◡╹”

♡ - “You look amazing today, honey. ╹◡╹”

♡ - “I miss you so much! ╹◡╹”

♡ - On Friday, you get sick of it. You go around, asking all your coworkers if their partners have perhaps got the wrong desk, but no one seems to recognise the handwriting.

♡ - Giving it up as a bad job, you decide to talk to HR about it once Monday rolls around again.

♡ - The weekend comes as a bit of relief, but it doesn’t last long.

♡ - Monday inevitably arrives, and again, there is a post it note on your desk. You do a quick tour of the office, hoping to perhaps catch the culprit, but everyone has yellow post it notes on their desk - there is no way to tell who it is from.

♡ - You go to HR, but there is little they can do for you without any knowledge or proof of who is leaving them. Deflated, you go back to your desk and work, trying to focus but unable to.

♡ - When Friday rolls around again, the note reads differently than usual.

♡ - “You seemed stressed, honey. Let me take you out tonight - my treat. Meet me at 7, at that restaurant we both like. Wear something nice. ╹◡╹”

♡ - You haven’t a clue what restaurant they mean, and even if you did, there is no way in hell you are going with some stranger that seems to have some strange one sided love for you. You crumple the note in frustration and throw it away, as you have with all the other post it notes.

♡ - Monday arrives again, but this time instead of a note, it seems there is a letter.

♡ - it’s written on the standard issue memo paper found anywhere around the office. It seems crumpled and tear stained. Whoever is writing them seems to have switched from a red biro to a red ink pen, but the ink seems oddly dark and brown.

♡ - “Honey. I waited for you all night. You never showed. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? How humiliating it was to be sobbing in the middle of the restaurant? I came back here at the weekend and found all my love notes for you in your bin. Why are you so cruel? Did I do something wrong? Do you not love me anymore? You’re coming home tonight. I let you stay at your own place long enough, I know new couples need time before moving in together but this has gone too far. You haven’t even visited or called or texted once. Come home. We have some serious discussion to do. ╹︵╹”

♡ - You can’t bring yourself to get any work done, you can’t bring yourself to eat, you can’t even bring yourself to try and tell HR again. You stand up and do another lap of the office, carefully examining everyone’s faces, trying to work out who might have sent this damned letter, but you can’t tell. You haven’t even the faintest idea.

♡ - You eye all your coworkers with suspicion, until finally you can’t take it anymore and hide in the toilets. You stay there, frightened to leave, right up until it’s time to clock out, and even then, it takes you a long time to work up the courage to leave.

♡ - When you finally get out, the office is empty. There is no one else there, apart from you. You find the darkened cubicles eerie, yet you breathe a sigh of relief anyway. Surely that must mean the note writer is gone too? You run out into the car park, making a mad dash for it, then stop short just as your car comes into view.

♡ - It’s covered in post it notes of varying colours, each one scrawled in that weird red ink. Some are angry, others plead for your forgiveness or return. Every single one is wet with tear stains.

♡ - You freeze. You have to call the police - you’ve let this go one long enough. You take a step back, ready to run back to the office and hole yourself up until the police arrive, only to stop when you feel a knife against your back and hear a voice you don’t recognise.

♡ - “Oh honey, you aren’t getting away with this that easily…”

Personality

The most mysterious of all, “Smiley” (╹◡╹) hasn’t quite seemed to grasp that it wouldn’t be obvious to their darling who they are. In their eyes, they’re already with their darling, and their tactics are less trying to get close to their daring and moreso engaging in what they think is cute couple behaviour. When their darling ignores or dismisses their bids for attention? Well, hell hath no fury like a lover scorned. It’s probably too late for their darling by the time they finally see the face of their admirer.

Dividers Credit: See Pinned Post

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat. 

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other. 

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you. 

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story. 

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

[goose8791]

Piercings

warnings: mentions piercings

"Luke, sit still," she instructed, her voice a gentle yet firm command.

"How can I sit still when you have a needle next to my face?" he retorted, a hint of playful defiance in his tone.

"You wanted me to pierce your ear," she reminded him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. The needle in her hand caught the soft glow of the dim room. From his spot on the couch, he looked up at her, a playful challenge dancing in his eyes. In response, she rolled her eyes.

"Don’t make this weird, okay?" she told him, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Before he could say anything, she threw her leg over his, positioning herself so she sat on his lap, facing him. The sudden closeness caught him off guard, and his face lit up in a subtle shade of red. Leaning closer into his side, she resumed her attempt to pierce his ear.

"Stay still," she murmured, her breath brushing against his neck. He froze, feeling the warmth of her proximity. Her fingers skillfully moved back his curls from around his ears as she drew a small dot with the pen that she grabbed from behind her ear. 

She shifted back to face him, a question lingering in her eyes. "Do you actually want me to do this?" she queried, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. His nod was emphatic, his gaze fixed on her face.

"You sure?" she pressed again, a hint of teasing in her tone. "Yes! Gods, just do it," he responded, frustration and fluster evident in his voice.

"Okay, okay, okay," she chuckled, her laughter filling the room. Leaning back toward his ear, the needle poised, she deftly pricked the skin. Pressure followed, and instinctively, his hands flew to her waist, thumbs pressing into her hips. Unyielding, she remained determined, pushing the needle through the skin. A hiss escaped him, his fingers digging into her hip bone.

"I'm almost done," she whispered, threading the metal through the skin. Another hiss followed, his fingers maintaining their grip on her hips. With practised ease, she screwed the end of the piercing, ensuring it wouldn't move. A tap on his shoulder signalled the completion of the task. "You're done," she laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes as she observed his reaction, his eyes screwed shut in both pain and relief. 

"You know, for the best swordsman in camp, I really thought that you wouldn’t be scared of a little needle," she teased, laughter bubbling in her voice. His eyes opened, brown orbs locking onto hers.

"Oh, shut up," he retorted, rolling his eyes, and his hands loosened their grip slightly on her hips.

"Make me, Castellan," she quipped, playfully attempting to pull her leg off him. However, she found herself unable to move as he smoothly pulled her back onto his lap. 

"What?" she questioned, her tone attempting to maintain composure as the awareness of his hands and the subtle pressure of his thumbs against her skin sent shivers down her spine.

"I’m shutting you up," he smirked, the mischievous glint in his eyes promising mischief. Before she could react, he kissed her, it wasn’t harsh or rough but sweet catching her off guard. The initial startle gave way to a reciprocated passion as she found herself kissing him back, her hands instinctively wrapping around his neck.

In the hushed aftermath of their unexpected kiss, she pulled back, a stunned expression on her face. "What was that for?" she asked, her voice a breathless whisper that betrayed the lingering traces of their shared moment.

He leaned back, a smug smirk playing on his lips. "You talk too much, and I needed a way to shut you up," he replied, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

She rolled her eyes, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "You have unconventional methods, Castellan."

"I'm a man of action," he quipped, his hands still lingering at her hips.

[heyhihellosworld]

𝐇𝐦?

Lando Norris x reader

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Smut

Notes: This was really fun to write but something completely different from what I usually do and probs not as rough as the request maybe sounded but hope it's fine! Thank you for the request! Also I have cero knowledge about frat-life or anything like it but I tried! I literally had to google the term frat :) I'm on a Lando stint rn apparently, third fic in a row so I hope you all like Lando :D

Request: Could you do super cocky frat Lando? Y/N dosen't like him cuz of his attiude. But after lots & lots of flirting, she starts giving in to his charms (and hotness). He's a bit narcissistic, so when he knows she's in the palm of his hand, he has her undress him, asking her how much she likes his muscles, and then he has her get on her knees and kiss him through his underwear, and then he pushes his c*ock down her throat until she has tears in her eyes, and he's smirking and boasting non-stop. Ahhh!

The first time you laid eyes on him was in art class.

He had been sitting up front, dangling his feet in the air whilst playing with his pen on the tree-desk. Something you found so incredibly annoying as the thumping sound never seemed to stop.

His face held a cocky little smirk and despite his obvious good looks which you couldn't deny you disliked him from first sight.

His brown curls dripped into his eyes and his well shaped face eased into a grin as he talked with his friend. Fuck he was pretty.

As time went you saw him more and more often. It was like everywhere you were, he was. You learned his name was Lando, the same age as you and you also learned that your gut feeling had been completely right. Because Lando was not for the weak, he was cocky, bratty, straight forward and thought he was a celebrity along the halls. Arrogant was what he was.

For some reason though he had set his sights on you, why? You had no idea but at every party, every break, every art class, he was there. Trying to flirt his ways into your bed. Maybe it was just the fact that you weren't falling for your knees for him, maybe it was the need to get what he wanted or it was just pure arrogance, but he never gave up.

He was used to getting who he wanted and you couldn't judge, you guessed he was pretty attractive and also pretty charming when he tried but still. He was Lando, the arrogant, cocky guy who was known for sleeping around and getting his way. It was not qualities you were looking for in a man, not even one to only sleep with.

Lando was persistent though, you had to give him that and regardless of how much you hated to admit it he got under your skin. His sweet words of praise, compliments and small not so innocent touches made your heart stutter and heat crawling up your skin.

For every day that went the more you realized how fucking good he looked. His eyes and face so innocent in a way but still so not in other ways.

His body, fuck his body was perfect. Eyes not able to ignore the way his arms flexed or the times he was wearing that stupid t-shirt that made his abs show through the thin fabric. You hated him on those days.

This was one of those days and as every other day so far Lando threw himself down in the seat next to you. Eyes raking your tired outfit for the day.

"How are you beutiful"

"Hello Lando, I'm good thank you" you answered casually. It was weird how this had almost started to become like a routine now, you got used to his company.

"No how are you? Pft Y/n! I thought you were raised well!" Lando spoke teasingly, fingers softly tickling your waist as your eyes rolled. "My deepest apologies Lando, how are you my prince?" "Ohoo here we go, that's better. I'm good thank you very much my princess"

Your eyes rolled again but you couldn't help the heat you felt spreading up your face as a giggle left your lips. Fuck.

"Are you gonna come to the party at friday?" he asked then, looking you straight into the eyes telling you this was an honest question. "Yeah I think so, why?"

"No no, no reason just wanted to ask so I know where to have my focus"

"Oh how charming you are" you huffed but Lando only shrugged "You know I'm popular baby" he spoke teasingly, smirking as you turned your focus away from him.

"You are so pretty baby" he hummed, the line making you grumble to him but you couldn't helpt but to feel the pet-name stirring something deep within you.

You didn't want him to affect you the way he did, you loathed him. Had always done. The way he snapped his fingers and got the things he wanted. The way he acted around, like he was the king of the world and everyone had to adjust and accept his ways. You loathed him, you told yourself, repeating all the reasons over and over to not forget them.

"Sure Lando" you murmured, gently pushing him away from you with an eyeroll. He only sniggered, that smirk that made your skin prickle making it's way onto his face.

"Is that so darling?" he chuckled, placing a hot hand on your hip. By the looks of it to walk past you but you knew it was only another way for him to show his dominance to you, show how much he actually affeccted you despite your tries to hide it.

"How long are you going to deny it hm?" he said lowly, his head bowing to reach your ear-level and it only made him grow cockier, feel more dominance.

"Deny what exactly? That you are a jerk? A jackass?"

Lando chuckled, finding your words more amusing than hurtful as he found your eyes. The colour in them shining with delight and competition.

"Deny that you somewhat find me attractive" he said lowly, watching your eyes blink shut, trying to shut out the hot feeling developing in your core. "I will stop denying it when you stop being such a jerk" you countered, a smirk making it's way to your lips as well as you felt the confidence surge back to you.

At that you left him, blinking sweetly at him before rounding him with an hot hand on his shoulder.

-

It wasn't even an hour until he was next to you again, his hand snaking it's way to your waist as he leaned in to talk directly in your ear. Something that made you all hot and bothered, it had no right to be so hot.

"Why are you acting so hard to get baby? I know you think i'm attractive"

"Attractive sure but I still find you a jackass"

"Hmm I don't think so sweetie"

"You think you know what I want better than I know myself?" you spoke softly looking at him with an innocent flutter of your eyes.

"I know you want me baby, you can't hide how flustered you get when I call you baby or how your eyes grow all wide when I say something dirty to you"

When you said nothing he continued talking again. Voice an octavle lower than before, his breath fanning the side of your face making it even hotter.

"I can't stop thinking about you baby, I don't know why but I can't. I want you, so bad"

Cheesy, the line was cheesy but you still felt the words make you crumble. Slowly but surely giving into him, because afterall, he was so hot.

Lando saw it to, the grin on his face only getting bigger as he continued, knowing that you would soon be eating out of his palm, just like he wanted but at this stage you didn't care. The man was a fucking flirt and he could flirt his ways into people's bed, yours included.

"Yeah? You like this baby, don't you? Picture your cute little mouth stretched around my cock, your sweet sounds as I make you feel good after I've come down your throat"

You felt heat pour into your stomach, all the way through your veins, building up slowly but steadily until it was all-consuming.

Fuck he was good

"You like that hm? I'm gonna have you so lost for me baby, sucking my cock like the good girl you are. Gonna have you undress me and ask for it, would you do that for me?"

You could practically feel the shit eating grin on his lips as you let out a small huff, dangerously close to a moan as you grumbled on your breath.

"Fuck Lando, how are you so good at this? Have you practiced this before?"

Lando laughed at that, his hand on your waist squeezing slightly harder as he hummed. "No, you are my motivation" "Oh gosh that's so cheesy but it still makes me fucking wet" you groaned in his ear, the words making him hum.

"Bet you taste fucking amazing" he mumbled and that was it, you crumbled.

"You gonna do as I say hm?"

You swallowed thickly, he knew all to well how he made you feel, feeding of of it but you couldn't deny it either, couldn't deny him. So you nodded, giving in to your pride for this moment and giving him the power he knew he had over you.

"What was that? Need your words baby"

"Yes" you almost whispered out, his smile big and cocky regardless.

"Yeah? Then undress me sweetie"

It took a moment for you to register his words but when you did you immideately reached for his shoulders. You gently squeezed his shoulders before letting your hands trail down his chest to the zipper of his hoodie.

"Come on baby, get on with it" he smirked, voice rougher than usual as his eyes pinned you down, gleaming with cockiness and victory.

You gently pulled his sweater off before letting your hands run under his white t-shirt. Feeling his muscles tense under your palms as you pulled it over his head.

He was so stunning you couldn't stop staring at him. Everything was just.. yum.

You stood infront of him, eyes fleeting over his toned torso, only feeding his ego and smirk.

"You like what you see hm?" he teased, gently grabbing your hands to settle on his muscular arms. Saliva gathered up in your mouth, swallowing thickly you let your hands slide down his arms and then up again. Your hands moved on instinct, coming up to his shoulders before sliding down his stomach.

"Tell me how much you like them huh? Tell me how much you like my muscles"

"So much, look so good Lan" you hummed, not being able to resist to let your hands wander over his body once more before settling them on his waistband.

"Go on, take them off" he nodded, watching you as your shaky fingers unbottoned the button of his jeans before helping him out of them.

Lando looked at you for a moment, seeming to think over his next move.

"Get on your knees baby"

You fell to your knees before you could even think it through properly, why? You couldn't answer that but all you knew was that for Lando, you wanted to do whatever he said, wanted to please him and his desires.

"Good, come on baby, kiss it" he prompted you, strong hands finding the back of your head and gently nudging your face to his boxer clad cock, straining hard inside the fabric.

You did what he asked, gently leaning forward to kiss him over the material. Your lips softly touching over the visable print of his hard dick, looking up at the Brit's face which looked taken over with lust and cockiness

"Look at you baby, doing everything I ask hm?"

"So gone for me already pretty girl?"

You could only hum, kissing up and down his dick once more before he hooked his fingers under the band, pulling his boxers down swiftly.

"Gonna let me fuck your little mouth princess?" You could no longer find your words, nodding desperately. All the various nicknames making you feel all dizzy and wetter then ever.

You leaned in kissing his dick again but this time without the fabric in the way, basking in the sound he let out before his hands tangled in your hair, not letting you ease into it at all but coaxing your mouth open with one hand before pressing his cock into your open mouth.

You did your best to stop your gagging, breathing through your nose as he set a brutal pace.

"You like that huh?" he smirked at you, not bothering letting you answer, looking into your eyes was answer enough. "Like having my cock down your throat hm?"

"Fuck y/n, taking it so good" he groaned, eyes never leaving yours, loving the way they were tearing up.

You tried your best to keep your mouth open without choking on his dick, marveling in the sounds he let slip past his throat but it was a struggle when he kept his relentless pace up, not letting you paus unless you tapped out.

You blinked through the tears trying to focus on your breathing but it became too hard, instinctively you tried to pull your head back but his grip was strong, keeping you seated until you tapped his thigh, depserate for some air.

He let you up immideately, watching you closely as you panted hard, trying to get your lungs filled with air, calming down your breathing slowly

"You okay baby?" he asked softly, his hand gently rubbing your cheek as you nodded "Yes yes, sorrry"

He shook his head firmly "don't apologise", at that you hummed, locking eyes with him, feeling your insides melt as his sweet eyes looked at you with such care and lust.

When you felt fine you leant forward again, licking a bold stripe from the base up to the tip, letting your tongue lap up the small droplets of pre-cum before opening your mouth, inviting him in once again.

"Fuck, look at you baby" he groaned "Like being used like this hm?"

You couldn't asnwer coherently, just gagged on his cock in response but he seemed to like it enough by the long groan he let out. His head had tipped back and his arms flexed as he held your head steadily.

"Fuck Y/n"

You tried to be at your best behaviour, Lando pulling that out of you. Swallowing around his dick, breathing through your nose and letting him use your mouth. Focusing on the salty taste on your tongue and the proper fucked out look on his face. Arms flexing, face twisting and abs clenching as he got closer and closer to his release.

Fuck he was a sight.

You felt his hips stutter as he fucked into your mouth a few more times before letting your head up.

You looked up at him softly, eyes swam over with tears and saliva dripping down your chin, gasping a few moutfull's of air before you sank down on his dick again, feling his dick twitch in your throat. Apparently he liked your fucked out look.

You had never ever enjoyed giving head as much as you did now, watching his mouth hang open and thighs shaking slightly. His hands came back to the back of your head, holding you deep as he came with a long groan.

He fucked up a few more times grunting words you couldn't understand, voice holding a tinge of despearation as he emptied all he had in your open mouth.

His eyes that had drooped closed open slowly watching your lips as he pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop.

Eyes almost hazing over as you swallowed, licking your lips as you blinked up innocently at him, he was just as effected by you as you were by him.

A wry smile made it's way up your face at the realization, looking at his fucked out face before speaking up in a sweet soft voice that made his softening cock want to harden again.

"As good as you imagined then baby?"

[coeurify]

I have no idea how this would fit into an storyline but I am a hoe for fake dating. Imagine fake dating with abby and it slowly becoming too real

UGH YOU GET ME FAKE DATING IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES!!

⋆˚✿˖° now, abby anderson had a problem. specifically a blonde, brown eyed loud mouthed man of a problem. owen fucking moore. she had broken up with him in the summer time, little explanation given to the ass of a boyfriend other than that she needed to “find herself.” (not that she needed to give any.)

⋆˚✿˖° but owen? oh owen didn’t accept that. so from the very moment abby had broken it off, to when the air began to smell like fall.. he pestered abby. asked for a reason, begged for another chance (despite HIM going around with damn near every girl on the WLF compound.)

⋆˚✿˖° things came to a head at a get together in one of abby and owen’s mutual friend’s apartment style quarters. mutual friend who also happened to be your roommate.

⋆˚✿˖° abby and owen fought all night, abby’s cheeks red from embarrassment and anger, eyebrows furrowed together. “why can’t you just take no for an answer owen?“ the cup in her hand crackled a bit under the pressure when the man scoffed. “because you never give me a real answer!” abby’s arms crossed at that, searching around the room. quickly, and maybe a little impulsively, she shrugged. “i’m into someone else now.”

⋆˚✿˖° owen just couldn’t accept that, his arms thrown around dramatically. “so you like another guy? that’s why you wont give me another chance? you know i can treat you better.” that sentence alone reminded abby just why she hated being with him so much, but again that fast moving brain of hers spoke before the thought could finish, finger pointing in the direction of the first person she found.. you. “it’s not a guy. it’s a girl. im not.. into your..” abby made a motion, “species anymore.” sure, it was sort of true. abby recently realized she probably had a thing for girls, but you particularly? she couldn’t count on her fingers the amount of conversations she had with. “i like her.”

⋆˚✿˖° you, who’s head poked up, mouth full of slightly stale chips, having heard the whole conversation. abby anderson, beautiful, funny, madeyouweakintheknees, abby anderson was into you? and not straight? surely not. you swallowed harshly, deciding to play into whatever game abby seemed to have set on the floor. you made your way over, an award winning smile on your face as owen’s mouth dropped open further than a damn infected. “You like her? as in girls?”

⋆˚✿˖° honestly, you probably caused more trouble when you stood near the two, “abs!” you grinned, “you forgot your jacket here.. cmere ill grab it for you.” and then your hand is wrapped around her tensed bicep, the stiffness likely caused by her pure shock you even played along. still, she used it as an out from the devil with blonde locks, shrugging almost apologetically at owen before letting you whisk her away.

⋆˚✿˖° and that night, after everyone but you and abby had stumbled out of the cramped room, which was still humid and heavy, you made the plan. with a pen that had little ink left, scratching against the water damaged pages of the notebook you tucked under your pillow, you wrote the words “project get rid of owen moore.” which ok, in retrospect sounded really bad. but you were a little tipsy.

⋆˚✿˖° the plan was easy. play the role of abby’s first girlfriend, convince owen she was totally not into him or men anymore. what did you get out of it? a spot on the top dog abby anderson’s patrol team. something you had been vying for this year. abby agreed, although a little hesitantly. she promised she had picked you only because its who her pointed finger found first. not any actual attraction. you swallowed down the hit to your ego that brought.

⋆˚✿˖° and honestly? the plan went on pretty steadily. you were a damn good fake girlfriend if you had to admit it, and abby didn’t hate being around you. in fact, she really enjoyed being around you. she enjoyed how easily your fingers reached down, tapping on her palm to fing a way to hold her hand whenever one of owen’s posey was around. she enjoyed how you leaned in whenever owen passed by, your lips on her ear, whispering anything you knew would have her smiling. a fake smile of course.

⋆˚✿˖° you two had some pretty strict rules. no kissing, no extreme touchiness, absolutely no spilling to anyone this was fake, and the most important.. no real feelings. you had come up with a backstory, one you two had studied together. (you two met in the training room after your roommate introduced you two and totally hit it off. abby got you a spot on her team next to her and manny, and feeling bloomed from there.) abby added in a few details she knew would piss owen off.. and you sealed your lips shut to follow the rules.

⋆˚✿˖° the first few weeks were easy. you liked spending time around abby. you enjoyed how she smiled, you laughed at all the jokes she cracked (for the fake dating points of course..), and you loved training with her. you had to ignore the shiver her hands on your shoulders or waist gave, knowing it was just to help your position. “you have to fix your stance if you plan on fighting scars..” abby huffed.

⋆˚✿˖° the problem started in october. a month and a half into your fake dating plan. tens of lunches spent alone together, a handful of new hair styles you begged to try on abby, and around 5 missions out of the base, in. there was a party, one you demanded the two of you go to one day as you lounged on abby’s bunk— watching as she cleaned up manny’s mess across the room. “if we dress up together, owen will totally finally get off your case,” you assured, bringing a loud sigh from the blonde. “oh my god.. fine.”

⋆˚✿˖° you went as a angel and devil, simple enough to easy stitch together some devil horns for yourself and an angel halo you found in an old broken down store in the city for abby. no way did you admit the trouble you went for to find it to abs, especially not as she easily pulled her shirt off in front of you, totally clueing you in to where the nickname came from as she shoved on the white teeshirt.

⋆˚✿˖° see, the no kissing rule was an important one, but vodka made everything seem less important, and owen was awfully loud that night, scoffing any time you smiled and leaned into your angel, head band tilting off your head, which abby fixed with a grin. “you two act more like friends than people fucking each other,” owen scoffed as he pressed by you two, the words pounding in abby’s ears over the loud mingling voices.

⋆˚✿˖° “kiss me,” abby called over the old cd that played on the speakers, her cheeks red with anger— blue eyes flicking around. “what?” you laughed, thinking back to rule number 1. “i know we said no— no kissing but i just.. oh my god just kiss me,” abby muttered, her large hands gripping your cheeks and pulling you in for a kiss, one she was sure owen was watching on to. one you melted into, sucking her lip in between yours.

⋆˚✿˖° that had been a breaking point, ragged breaths and heated necks as you pulled away. it lead to more excuses with less validity being used when the two of you stared at each other’s lips. stepping down the stairs of the base, eyes catching on someone who just looked like owen. “kiss me,” abby muttered quickly, and you wasted no time to turn your head and fill your nose with the scent of pine as you leaned in.

⋆˚✿˖° the no kissing rule crossed off right before the no touchiness one did, that one had been scribbled off completely when abby began pulling you into her lap in group functions, one soft hand rubbing up against your side as she whispered in your ear, “jus’ for show.”

⋆˚✿˖° just for show of course, but you screamed into your pillow for so long that night you almost thought the walls of your room would crumble down along with the barrier you put between you and the blonde.

⋆˚✿˖° kisses and touchiness turned to nights spent in abby’s room, mornings waking up and having abby’s shirt thrown at your face. “wear that, owen got it for me when we were dating.” sure, you probably should be ashamed to be wearing the clothes of a girl who didn’t like you, but the frown on owen’s face made it worth it.

⋆˚✿˖° that last rule, the one that didn’t have pen strokes over the letters, the one locked behind awkward coughs and side glances, well you weren’t sure who broke it first. you dont know why feelings came into play, but you sure do know it happened.

⋆˚✿˖° you felt it first when abby didn’t talk to you for a few days. you saw her across the stadium with nora, her head tilted back lightly in a laugh at something the other girl said. that was the first time you felt the needle sized ache in your heart, one that only ripped further when owen shoulder checked you on his way by, “better get your girl. she slips away easily.”

⋆˚✿˖° maybe that rule had been broken when abby stormed into your room, met with the sight of you on the couch with some other blonde girl, an old tape of a southern movie mid way through when anderson scoffed and demanded the girl get out. she did so in a hurry, scrambling for her sweatshirt as a frown grew on your lips. “abby what the fuck?” you scoff, watching her eyebrows unfurrow lightly. “you can’t have other girls over! it fucks with our plan,” she accused, though she stumbled lightly over the words. “she’s just a friend, abby.”

⋆˚✿˖° however, the night you sat in your bed, breath heavy and eyes stinging as you broke through the paper with the pen, scratching over the words “no real feelings,” that came in the end of november.

⋆˚✿˖° your head was pressed into abby’s shoulder, yawning and closing your eyes as the movie played on a big sheet, a biweekly occurrence in the WLF base. abby had pressed to your cheek, placing a kiss to it that had some sort of butterfly attack take fruition in your stomach. you two didn’t even know if owen or his friends were around, and they for sure were not the reason of abby’s hand linking into yours as you two walked toward her room later that night. you both seemed to realize that when you reached her door and she leaned forward just lightly, as if to kiss you.

⋆˚✿˖° she cleared her throat, licking over the lips you wanted to capture again. “i think-” she said suddenly, squeezing her eyes closed. “i think owen really believes it now.” you could feel your heart sinking to the empty stomach that laid below your chest, knowing what came next. “i think we should break up.” abby finished, quick to add, “fake break up.”

⋆˚✿˖° you nodded along silently to the story she built still standing in her doorway. miscommunication, arguments, differing plans, the whole shebang— anything to make the breakup believable. you agreed, but the moment her door shut, a half smile and thank you sitting on her lips as the door locked, you felt the tears prick your eyes.

⋆˚✿˖° you wiped quickly at the tears, your hand slapped over the aching chest you swore betrayed you. you sucked in shallow breaths, shaky hands finding your own door as your vision went blurry.

⋆˚✿˖° as your pen broke through the white sheet of paper, you cursed your own heart. you cursed it for being so easy to rip from your chest, presented on a platter for a blonde who only saw it as a fake replica. you threw the notebook across the floor, hand slapping over your mouth so your roommate wouldn’t wake as you sobbed into it. surely you had been the only one to break that rule, but that didn’t matter now.

⋆˚✿˖° but you were wrong. not that you could know that. a five minute walk away, abby breathed out slowly as her fingers scraped though the braid she was undoing, an odd stinging pricked at the corner of her lashes. she knew she did the right thing. she knew it as soon as her lips searched for your own at her doorway tonight. so why did it feel so bad? why did her hands tremble as she pulled out her blanket and climbed under it, squeezing her eyes shut.

⋆˚✿˖° if this was all fake, why did the break up feel so real?

[luvsfics]

ok so slytherin boys and female / nb reader royal au 😩 (separately?)

SLYTHERIN BOYS ROYALTY AU —

Different royalty tropes that I think fit with the slytherin boys!

DRACO MALFOY — servant x prince

“Good evening, my prince.” You said as you began to make up his messy bed, as he had just awaken from a long night of council meetings with his father and lords that resided in the kingdom.

“Evening, sweet girl.” He said with a smirk as he tugged on a robe to give him some modesty as he was only wearing sleeping shorts.

He poured himself some wine and sat down beside his fireplace and watched as the flames flickered and burned the wood.

“How was your sleep?” You asked, fluffing out the pillows before organizing them on the big bed.

“It was fine, though that council meeting was exhausting.” He mentioned.

“Well, it will prepare you to be king.” You added. You picked up some of his dirty clothes off the floor and tossed them in a linen basket to clean.

He only huffed at your words. During your affections, he would mention how he didn’t think he would be a good king, how the people loved his father too much.

You set the basket on the bed and stepped towards the man in the chair. You stood in front of him and watched as he looked up at you, his blue eyes meeting yours.

You sat yourself down onto his lap, taking his face into your grasp, “you will be a good king, I know it.”

“When I am king, I will marry you.” He said, pressing a kiss onto your palm.

“You cannot marry me, I am merely a maid.” You said with a saddened expression, your brows furrowed.

“That doesn’t matter to me, the only thing that matters is my love for you.” He placed a hand over yours.

You smashed your lips onto his, his hands traveling down to your hips to pull you closer. If only he could become king quicker so you both could be each others.

MATTHEO RIDDLE — arranged marriage

“Hello, husband.” You said as you walked into your husband’s rather large office. He was studying books and accounts of other lords in the country.

“Hello, sweet wife.” He said as his attention stayed on his studies.

You approached the back of his chair, you hands found their way to his shoulders. You began to massage his tense shoulders, he let out a huff, tossing the pen down and relaxing into the chair, letting you work your magic on his sore muscles.

You both had been married for a few months are he had courted you for a few months before that. Your family was wealthy and as was his, that’s why your fathers had decided on the marriage.

You had become good friends and grown to care for each other. That had blossomed into love soon after the marriage ceremony, making both of your families proud that the marriage wouldn’t be a fail.

“You must come to bed with me, it is late.” You said as you rubbed out a knot in his muscles.

“I will, my love. I just have to get this done.” He said before picking up the pen again.

You took your hands away and pulled him from the chair. It took you a minute to actually get him out of the chair but you did.

“Our fathers would be quite upset if you weren’t giving your wife the attention she deserves.” You smiled.

“You love using that against me,” he said as he pecked your soft lips, his hands trailing down to your hips.

You only smiled as you pressed another gentle kiss on his lips.

THEODORE NOTT — princess x stable boy

“Good morning, princess.” Theo, the stable boy, said with a wink. You approached him as he was brushing one of the many horses the stable held, as your family could afford so many.

“Good morning to you, Theodore.” You said with a smile. You move towards the basket of carrots behind the man, grabbing one for the large brown horse.

You bring it up to its mouth, offering the carrot as a treat. The horse takes the vegetable and chewed it up into small pieces. You pet the top of the horses muzzle.

“She likes you.” He said as he stared at you, his thoughts telling him you were the most beautiful girl he had ever come across.

He continued to brush the horse, with a smirk on his lips as you gazed at each other.

You turned around, looking to see if anyone was nearby. Thankfully, the stable area was empty, leaving the two of you alone.

You stepped closer to him, “I have missed you, Theo.” You shyly played with your fingers.

He took one of his fingers and tilted your head up to look him in the eye, “I have missed you too, sweet princess.”

“We have not had a lesson in a while,” you pointed out.

“Perhaps we should have one soon.” He said, pressing a soft kiss on your lips, remembering the times you both shared falling in love.

BLAISE ZABINI — princess x knight

“Come back, princess!” Your personal knight, Blaise shouted as you ran through the halls of your family’s castle.

You giggled at the sound of him huffing and picking up his own feet to chase after you.

You raced through the corridors as the men in armor ran after you, you liked this game of cat and mouse, it excited you.

“Princess!” He called out down the hall, his exasperated expression only made you giggle harder, your dress flowing behind you in the wind as you ran.

You found your way to a small and empty hall, which overlooked a Great Lake, a beautiful sight to see in the sunset.

You panted as you saw the sun reflecting off of the gorgeous waters, the mountains in the background giving the view an everlasting beauty that you have never seen before.

“Princess, you must not run from me.” Blaise huffed, hands on his hips as he began to scold you.

Before he does, your lips smash onto his. Since the halls were empty, you could show your affections without judgment.

His hands gripped your waist and pulled you in, pressing himself into you and your lips touched in the most sensual way before slowly pulling away.

“You are…such a pain!” He cried.

“But you love me,” you smiled.

“That, I do.”

LORENZO BERKSHIRE — princess x baker

“I’m in need of pumpkin pasties, treacle tarts, sandwiches, and pumpkin juice.” You said as you read off the list you had written earlier on parchment.

Enzo wiped off his hands with a rag after he had finished washing them, “anything else, princess?”

You shook your head, handing him the piece of parchment before grabbing your basket that you brought with you. You scanned through the shelves full of fresh fruit like apples and berries, picking out the best looking ones for your picnic with your friends.

The Berkshire’s were bakers for the castle, they baked every pastry and sweets for events and whenever the royal family wanted.

What your parents, the king and queen, didn’t know is that you and the bakers son had a secret relationship you had hidden away.

You felt a pair of lips on your neck, startling you. A pair of strong arms crept around your waist and pulled you against their chest.

“Enzo!” You giggled at the ticklish feeling of his lips on your skin.

“You’re supposed to be baking my sweets!” You said as you playfully pushed his face away from you.

He huffed, “but you are the sweetest thing in this room.” He smiled as he spun you around and took your chin into his grasp, placing a delicate kiss on your soft lips.

“You charm me, my love.” You smile.

[iinsertblognamee]

bluey and phonecalls

summary ― your son misses sam

pairing ― sam kerr x foord!reader

warning/s ― fluff, mentions of pregnancy

“Mama?” 

Theodore looked up at you, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he let out a small yawn. You let out a small ‘coo’ as you ran your fingers through his hair and placing his bowl down in front on him. His younger sister, Hazel, was giggling to herself as she smashed her cut up fruit all over her highchair. 

“Yes baby?” 

“Where’s mummy? I wanna watch Bluey with her?” 

It was no secret that the last few months have been pretty hectic for your growing family. Sam helping Chelsea win the FA Women’s cup and then moving straight onto getting for the World Cup. During all that madness Theo had celebrated his fourth birthday and you had found out your were expecting yours and Sam’s third child. 

With all that, Theo had started to notice that Sam wasn’t around as much but still didn’t quite grasp why. Sam was currently at training getting ready for their game against Denmark. After being put on the bench due to her calf playing up, Sam had made it her mission to enure she would be back on that field as fast a possible and as much as you knew how important this World Cup was for her and the team, you couldn’t help but feel sad. Your children were missing out on spending time with their mummy and you were missing out on spending time with your wife. 

“She’s at training baby, but we’re gonna go watch her play tonight with Nana!” You let excitement fill your voice, knowing that the uplifting tone would get him more excited for tonight. 

“With Aunty Cat-Cat?” A smile fills your lips, as you run your fingers through his hair once again before placing a kiss on the top of his forehead. “Yeah baby, Aunty Cailtin will be there too!” 

It was no secret that Sam was his favourite person in the whole wide world, from the second he could kick in your womb, it was very clear that Sam was his person. Her adore everything she did, whether it was kick game-winning goals or flip pancakes in the morning - Theo didn’t care, she could do no wrong. The pair were two peas in a pod, Theo demanding that Sam teach him anything and everything about football (which, of course she loved). 

Although Sam was his everything, there was one other person on this planet that Theo loved almost as much, your sister, Miss Caitlin Foord. Whether it was the football or the fact that she spoils him rotten anytime she’s around he loved her. 

“Can they come over now mama? I just wanna watch one show” His small voice breaks your heart a little, his plead with those big brown eyes starring up at you. A small frown appears on your face, as you shake your head “I’m sorry baby, they’re busy at the moment but we can still watch it together?” 

He lets out a small okay, as he takes a few bites of cereal. Hazel let out a squeal as she continued to bang on the highchair, your attention turning away from Theo and onto her. 

“Oh my goodness! Look at my messy baby” Hazel giggles even louder as you make your way over to her - wiping off the fruit and picking her out of her highchair. A small grunt leaving your lips - your pregnant belly making it difficult for you to hold onto her. 

“Mama be careful!” Theo jumping down from his chair and running towards you - his arms up, ready to take Hazel out of your arms. “It’s okay baby, I got this”. You made your way, slowly, to the living room - Theo watching your every move (just like his mother). 

You placed Hazel in her play pen, before settling yourself down on the couch next to your son. 

“How bout we watch some bluey together? Would that be okay?” You watched Theo think about it for a few seconds, his eyebrows frowning for a second before he nods his head. “Okay mama, we do that” 

You let out a small laugh as you pull him closer to you and place another kiss on his forehead. Bringing the blanket from next to you over both your bodies, Theo got himself comfortable around your bump - his little hand placed right where Sam would normally have it. The sound of the Bluey intro was enough to pull his attention away as you pulled out your phone - clicking on Sam’s contact. 

yn; hey baby, you busy? 

You bring your attention over to Hazel for a few seconds, would was happily playing in her pen with all the toys your mum and sisters had spoilt her with when you had arrived back in Australia. 

The buzz of your phone takes your attention away. 

sam; having a break for some food

sam; i got about 15 minutes

yn; hows your calf? 

sam; much better

sam; the physio did wonders on it 

sam; reckon i could be playing tonight 

yn: that’s so good baby!

yn: we’ll be in the crowd cheering you on

sam; my favourite thing in the world 

sam; did you see what i left out for you to wear tonight? 

yn: the jersey with foord on it? 

sam; funny. 

sam; last i remember the ring on your finger means youre a kerr now 

yn: i love you mrs kerr

sam; that what i thought 

yn: you nervous ? 

sam; a little 

sam; i wanna do right by the team

sam; and i feel like i’ve let everyone down the past couple of games 

yn: you haven’t baby

yn: I promise 

sam; how’s the kids going? Not giving you trouble are they?

yn: nah

yn: they’re being good

yn: Theo is missing you lots though 

yn: he wanted to watch bluey with you 

sam; my poor little man

sam; give me a second and i’ll call 

yn: okay, i love you 

sam; i love you too 

You turned your attention back to the screen, the intro of a new episode was playing, Theo’s attention glued onto his favourite show. The intro hadn’t even finished before your phone started ringing, Sam’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Baby look! It’s mummy!” Theo’s face lit up, the phone leaving your grip in an instant. 

“Hi Mummy!” Theo squealed, his body jumping up and down with excitement. The loud squeals were enough to set Hazel off, wanting to be apart of whatever she felt she was missing out on. You triple check that Theo was okay on the couch before getting yourself off the couch. 

“Hi Baby! Whatcha doing?” You hear Sam’s voice follow through the speakers as Hazel claps her hands and looks up at you. Picking her up once again, a small grunt leaving your lips brings the attention of both your wife and first child. 

“Mama!” 

“Love?” 

“I’m okay!” you assure them both as you bring you and Hazel back to the couch, your daughter squealing once again once she sees Sam on the phone. 

“What are you guys doing?” Sam asks once again, both kids attention completely on the phone screen. 

“Watching Bluey with mama” Sam lets out a small chuckle, as you shake your head in the background. You and Sam had seen every single bluey episode there was. It being a fan favourite in your household (and the main attraction for the 24 hour plane trip from London to Sydney). 

“That sounds fun! Have you been looking after our girls for me bubs?” Theo nodded his head, with a very serious look on his face. Your heart beating just that little bit faster. Sam was very protective over her family, which your son had noticed and of course copied. 

“Of course mummy! I even helped mummy get Hazel ready” 

You nodded your head in agreement, as you placed a kiss on the back of his head before adding “He did. Such a good big boy aren’t you baby”. 

You catch the sound of Sam’s teammates in the background, already knowing that Sam would need to say her goodbyes soon enough. Looking down into your arms, Hazel was fast asleep. 

“Are you coming home soon?” His little voice breaks both yours and Sam’s hearts, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. 

“I’m sorry baby, i’m at training getting ready for tonight’s game” You could see Theo’s shoulders drop in disappointment, Sam noticing as well. “But! But baby, you and mama and Hazel are coming to watch us tonight so i’ll get to see you really really soon at the stadium. How does that sound huh?” 

You could see that Theo was torn between his emotions, the noise of the matidlas getting louder and you could see Sam watching Theo - waiting for his response. “We watch bluey together tomorrow?” He shyly asks, looking between you and the phone. 

“Of course baby! We can watch Bluey all day long tomorrow, but only if your promise to look after mama for me tonight and cheer for us!” 

Yet again, Theo nodded his head with purpose, these new ‘comands’ practically written in stone for your son. “I will mummy, I’ll cheer the loudest” 

“I know you will baby, but look. I need to go back to training but I can’t wait to see you tonight okay. I love you so much” 

“I love you mummy” 

“Love you Sam” you add on, as she blows you both a kiss before the call disconnects. 

Theo waits a few seocnds after the call to end before turning his body towards yours “Mama”

“Yes baby” 

“Can we wait Bluey until we go watch mummy play” 

This was going to be a long day.

[parkerpeter24]

be alright

i’m sorry i really had my exams 😭 and i couldn’t write in december, but soon i am hoping to post winter blurbs

pairing ➳ tasm!peter x reader.

warnings: heavy angst. like forced kissing and a bit of grabbing.

masterlist

“it’s like you’re never here.” your voice came out shaky. it felt like the cold outside had gotten to you even through the closed window of your room and the radiator going in the room didn’t make you feel warm anymore.

december always felt like a lonely month to you, with your exams approaching and having no plans for christmas or the new year. it always felt unfair that your family got to enjoy while you stressed about your exams. but when you met peter, a little voice inside you told you that this year would be different.

you’d been dating for ten months now and it felt so natural with peter. he was always there for you, always holding your hand, always looking out for anything you needed, always helping you with your homework and your studies, always bringing you coffee.

until he wasn’t.

it stopped by the last of november. maybe it was the stress of all his college projects or maybe he was busy taking pictures to submit in hopes of finding a new job. you told yourself everything was fine for a month but now it wasn’t water under the bridge anymore. now all the avoided calls and the lack of his ‘good morning, beautiful’s had gotten to you.

so, in your state of desperation, you went to the only reliable source to reach peter. his aunt, may.

and it had worked.

when you looked up from your study and found your spandex clad boyfriend knocking at your window, you got up quickly and ran to open it. a little spark igniting in your chest and the voice told you that everything will be okay, finally.

peter climbed in and took off his mask, “you complained about me to may?” were his immediate words. his voice was no sort of sweet like you had expected and wished it to be, “what am i, a child?”

your mouth opened and closed, then opened again and then it closed. peter gave you a look of exasperation, making you frown. you watched him run a hand over his face as he shivered a little, the mix of cold from outside and the heat in your room getting to him.

the room felt eerily silent for a few seconds.

“i didn’t know how else to reach you.” you mumbled.

“just text me.” he sighed and turned to face you as you walked towards your desk, closing your notebooks, placing your pen on the last page you were writing on.

“i texted you hundreds of times!” your voice sounded rushed, “you never answer!”

“don’t you think that means i’m busy?” peter argued. you felt guilt rise and clench your heart in your chest. he sighed, “i was going to text you, but i was busy.”

“it’s like you’re never here.”

and that’s how the fight started. it felt like a fight. it felt like peter was throwing harsh words and pushing you away. you knew his tendency to do so when he thought he was doing something wrong. he knew he didn’t give you enough time and it got to him, and he took it out on no one other than yourself.

“that’s because i’m out there trying to save people.” he pointed a hand towards the window and you gulped, “i’ve got a lot on my plate.”

“so do i, peter.” you pleaded, your voice shrill, “i wish i wasn’t missing you so much but i do. i feel selfish for missing my own boyfriend, how’s that fair?!”

“i’m not trying to make you feel like that, you have to understand my responsibility towards the city-”

“yes, you have great responsibility! i know.” you gulped, watching his face harden. he looked colder, nothing like your peter. you tried again, “i know what you feel about the city… but don’t you think you’re overdoing it?”

he blinked, “overdoing it?”

“peter, you have a life outside spider-man.” you tried to reason with him, taking a step towards him. his brown locks looked so soft and you wished you could run your fingers through them.

“and you want that life to revolve around you.” he rolled his eyes, speaking matter of factly. his words may have been spoken in the heat of the moment, to you it felt well-thought. it felt like peter was slowly twisting the knife that had pierced through your heart.

“i didn’t say that.” you mumbled, feeling your eyes brim with tears. he avoided looking at your face. he knew that if he looked into your eyes, he would break. he would fall down to his knees and cry his heart out. and he couldn’t afford to do that right now.

“it felt like you wanted to.”

to you, it felt like both of you were trying to blame the other for everything that felt wrong. you wanted to throw your thickest history book at him but you also wanted to hold onto him and cry until all the stress you felt vanished away. you wanted to pull at your hair in frustration but you also wanted his soft hands running through your hair, comforting you.

but it was hard to realise the good things when you hadn’t seen the person you care most about in a month and he was not even trying to be civil. so you pushed those thoughts aside and retaliated.

“there was a time before spider-man.”

peter’s eyes snapped towards your face, cold and venomous, “what?”

“there was a time. when there was no spider-man. and the city was carrying on just fine!” your vision was blurred, jaw clenched as you finished, breathing harshly. your nails dug into the palm of your hands as you clenched your fists.

peter stood there, looking at you unbelievably. he was almost shaking from how tense his whole body was. you gulped, almost opening your mouth in an apology but before you could, peter’s voice reached your ears, hoarse and deep, “you said you missed me?”

you took a step back, intimidated by the way he was looking down at you. peter was taller than you but it had always been an intimate thing between the two of you. you liked being the ‘big’ spoon and he liked teasing you about it. but in this moment, it felt like he was a predator, staring down at his pray.

“pete-” you thought you could reason with him about this whole argument. about how stupid it was but he was taking fast steps to fill the distance between the two of you until you felt his breath of your face, “p-peter…”

“well, here i am.” he said, instantly grabbing the back of your neck, making you gasp as he pressed his lips harshly against yours. your hand instinctively flew to the back of his head as his lips mingled with yours. it didn’t start like the other times, it wasn’t sweet. it was rushed, and messy. your salty tears mixed into the kiss and peter’s hand in your hair tightened, pulling at it. you whimpered, but he didn’t stop. his other hand traveled to your hip, squeezing it with force, holding you against him.

you knew it was going to bruise badly in a few hours. he had trapped you between the desk and himself and even though it felt like he was violating all your space, you kissed him back, you tried to hold on to him. tried to calm him down but it didn’t feel like he was in charge of himself anymore.

you tried to push at his chest but you knew it was not gonna help. he was way too stronger against your normal human strength. you felt peter bite at your lip and you gasped at his harsh behaviour, feeling the copper taste fill your mouth when his tongue pushed past your lips. your fist collided with his chest once, trying to make him stop as more tears slid down your face.

you felt yourself sob when peter finally pulled back, but only to pull your hair, prompting your head to tilt backwards. his lips trailed over your neck, down to your collarbone.

“peter, stop!” you cried, trying to push him away from you, your hands hitting his shoulder, trying to snap him back to reality. his teeth dug into your skin and you gasped, “stop.”

you felt your knees buckle, trying to push him away and when peter finally looked up at your face he realised.

he finally realised what he was doing. his grip immediately loosened on your hair, and your hip. and your head sprang forward to reveal your busted lip, his doing. he was holding on to you, this time to stop you from falling down and as were you, hands clutching on to the wooden edge of your study desk.

you looked lost and peter looked petrified as he couldn’t catch your eyes even though he was looking right at them, “baby…”

watching you try to regain your posture, peter felt your hand still pressing against his chest to push him away and he backed off, letting you stand on your own, “i’m so… sorry.” he mumbled, feeling his eyes fill with tears as he watched you wipe your own.

you turned around, your back towards him. he couldn’t move, just staring at you back as he felt his heart fall to the pit of his stomach. he knew he deserved it. he wished you’d yell at him, hit him, do something so he knew how wrong he was. not like he didn’t already know.

“you should go.” your voice was so quiet. so quiet that if he wasn’t spider-man, he wouldn’t have heard it. but he listened to you. last thing he wanted to do right now was ignore you and end up hurting you more than he had for the last month. especially today.

he picked up his mask and you heard the shuffling of his feet. you heard the window slide open and you heard it close. and you heard the ‘thwip’ that took him away from you.

“and i was wondering if you’d clean out the back, you know the boxes and everything that’s clogging the garage entrance…” may trailed off, looking at her nephew who was in turn busy staring at his phone, “peter?”

the old lady placed a hand on her nephew’s shoulder when he didn’t respond, “peter.”

his head snapped towards her, eyes looking tired as ever as he locked his phone, sliding it in the pocket of his jacket, “sorry, i-”

“we don’t have to do this today.” she smiled at him kindly, “i’m sure miles would be okay with helping me. you could use some rest.”

“no, no, i got this.” peter stood up, “it’ll… it’ll keep me distracted.”

may nodded and started telling him all the things she needed cleared out from her garage. she was getting her house renovated, hoping to put a room on rent. it never hurt to have a few extra bucks in hand.

peter followed the instructions, sorting out stuff from the old boxes into the new ones so they could be donated or stored in better condition.

it had been five weeks since he saw your face after the way he left it. he was sure the bruises would be gone by now, at least the physical ones. he sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand but his mind kept wandering back to his phone screen. all the texts he’s sent and the way you hadn’t read them. he was surprised that you didn’t block him because he would have, if he was in the position you were in.

it was january now but peter knew your exams were still going on. he gave you as much space as you needed. however, it didn’t feel like new year without you. without your laughter, there was nothing happy about the new year for him. he tore his eyes away from the screen again and got back to the work. it was going to take way longer than expected if he kept letting his mind wander.

brushing his hands together when he was done, peter made his way inside the house through the garage door. he carried the box with the items may was going to donate.

he walked to the living area but the sudden sight of you standing in his aunt’s house made the box drop from his hands, the (thankfully) metal objects clanged against the polished wooden floor.

peter’s mouth opened, then closed– partly in disbelief, and partly in perplexity. his heart was hammering in his chest as he took a step towards you. for a minute he thought he was hallucinating. his desperation of getting another chance to just talk to you was getting to his head.

it was not until he reached right in front of you, less than five feet apart, and all breath knocked out of his lungs, that he spoke, “you’re… here.”

he was relieved when you responded, “i am.” you nodded almost formally, “i was here to donate some clothes. may asked.”

“oh.” he mumbled, nodding back at you in acknowledgement.

there was a moment where no one spoke. neither of you knew how to, or what to, talk about in this moment. the door to the house was closed but somehow peter felt a gust of wind flow– maybe he left the garage door opened– but that was last of his worries.

“so…” he started quietl, “how are your exams going?”

“good. good. well enough.” you shrugged, “today was the last one actually… so i thought why not clear out my closet too.”

“that sounds nice.” a small smile appeared over his face.

now as the two of you stood in front of each other, it felt like there was nothing else to talk about except for the elephant in the room.

“about our fight…” you started at the same time as peter.

“you look better.”

then both of you went quiet at the same time.

“you go first.”

peter nodded, “i know what i did was unforgivable. i’m not gonna ask you to forgive me. b-but i will keep apologising for it. i will try to make up to you if you let me.” he rushed through his thoughts. you could tell he was being sincere even though his eyes didn’t meet yours. then he surveyed the surroundings, quietly mumbling to you, “it was the lizard. everything was so crazy and i almost got killed and i didn’t want you to worry so i tried to push you away. and my head was going in circles it…”

peter quieted down when he felt you close the gap between the two of you. your arms wrapped around his shoulders and peter froze. until he realised that he should hug you back. a soft sigh left him as soon as his arms were around you and he realised how much he’d missed this.

“i missed this.” you mumbled, as if reading his thoughts.

“i missed this too. i’m sorry i hurt you. a lot.” peter pressed a kiss to your hairline and you closed your eyes, reveling in the feeling for as long as you could.

“i know you didn’t mean to.” you looked up at him when you parted from the hug, “i was really stressed too. i shouldn’t have said things about spider-man. i know how much it means to you and i don’t even know how this city was lucky enough to have a guy like you looking after it. i guess i got jealous.” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

peter gave you a smile, “you know you come before everything for me.”

you smiled in return, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it once, “so then… i’ll get going.”

“oh.” peter sighed, disappointment clear in his voice, “can i…” you waited for him to finish his sentence, “take you out on a date?”

you smiled slightly, relieved to find the same old boy you used to love after what felt like an excruciatingly long time and for a moment, as you nodded ‘yes’ to his question, it felt like everything will after all, be alright.

[writeforfandoms]

Who Wants To Live Forever

Find my Ghost masterlist

It doesn't matter how many lives you've lived, you always find your way back to him.

The reincarnation au nobody asked for and my plot bunnies yeeted at me anyway! I have a lot of thoughts about this one that didn't make it into the fic. Like. A Lot.

Warnings: Swearing, past violence, blood, injury mention, canon typical violence, idiots in love, this is just for fun, I wrote this for me but you can read it too.

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

Word count: 2.9k

The dreams started when you were small. Your parents at first attributed them to an overactive imagination and too much television. 

But as you got older and the dreams didn't go away, you wondered. Your parents got squirrelly about them, started muttering about things like psychiatrists and not normal and worried. 

So you stopped mentioning them. Pretended you didn't dream at all most nights. 

Reality couldn't be farther from the truth. 

You dreamed. Every single night. In some you were part of a village, living a harsh life by the sea. The men would go off to hunt and raid, and the women stayed behind to mind the village and raise the children. Those dreams always left you cold. Even in those dreams, though, dream-you noticed the beauty, the way sunlight glinted off snow, the magical lights in the sky, the blue of the sky after a storm. 

Some nights you dreamed of being a nurse, tending wounded soldiers in tents and buildings. Those dreams were always full of screaming and crying and horrors. Men wheezing, coughing up blood. Limbs shattered and mangled beyond repair. A stench like you couldn't describe. But there were little moments, moments of kindness. Holding a man's hand to comfort him through his last breaths. The way the sunrise broke through some of the haze of pain surrounding those places. The way a doctor or fellow nurse would sometimes thank you, buy you a drink, share scant meals with you. 

Sometimes you were a school teacher in a rural village, gently scolding children and keeping watch as they frollicked at break times. Those dreams were full of small joys. A flower one of your students brought you, bashful smile blooming into a grin at your thanks. Sunsets from the comfort of home. Warm meals at the table, often shared. With him.

He was a constant presence. Through all of your dreams, all of those times, he was always to be found. He didn't always look the same - skin tone changed, hair color changed. But you always knew him by those brown eyes. 

Sometimes the two of you married. Sometimes he was married before you met him. Sometimes you were married first. But you always, always found each other. In every time. In every life. 

By the time you were out of school, you had notebooks dedicated to your dreams, to the times, to the man. You kept them hidden away, for your eyes only. Just as a way to help you keep everything straight. 

As more time passed, you became more and more sure that these were glimpses into the past. Your past. Past lives, you'd guess. From the way the dreams felt… it always felt like you. No matter how many times you put pen to paper, you could never accurately describe why. 

But you knew. They were all you.

And they were all him. 

Which made you wonder… when would you find him in this life? You'd found him in almost all of the others. It seemed reasonable that you'd find him again. 

(Nevermind that you had no name, no description, no way of knowing what he'd look like or where he'd be.) 

Knowing that he was out there somewhere made it easy to bury yourself in work. Oh, sure, you had friends. People who knew you. You were well-liked at work, known to get things done. 

But you didn't date. You didn't look for people who weren't him. 

Everyone else, you knew, would pale in comparison. 

All the lives accumulated in your head did make it hard to relate. It was easier, sometimes, to sort of… float through life. You knew what was expected of you. You'd known people from every walk of life, just about. You knew a lot about people, could do well in social situations without working at it. 

But it did make for a rather lonely life. 

You started dreaming of him more often. Of the times the two of you lived together. Of the long talks the two of you had. Of the walks, along the sea, along a grass-lined lane, along a lake. Of the times he was just out of reach, your eyes meeting again and again through crowds and dinners and company. 

Of the time he died in your arms, blood staining the both of you. 

You were tired when you got on the train. This was just a little holiday to a new place. 

Or. Well. You hadn't been here in this lifetime, at least. 

It was busier than you remembered the area being, more built up. Your lips twitched - that's what happened over time, after all. 

Nothing stayed the same for long. 

You didn't pay any mind to the people around you as you walked, taking your time. You didn't mind walking to your hotel from the train station. Gave you a better chance to look around and plan where you wanted to go later. 

Your eyes met brown through a coffee shop window.

You froze. You knew those eyes. You knew those eyes. 

He blinked, just once. You couldn't look away. 

The noise of the coffee shop finally registered when you stopped in front of his table, the chinking of mugs and flatware, the hiss of the machines, the babble of unimportant voices. 

“Hi.” You were a little surprised at your own voice, quiet and a little awed. 

He eyed you, black face mask obscuring most of his expression. For a moment your heart plummeted. Maybe he didn't recognize you? Maybe… he didn't remember? 

Then his lips twitched. 

“Took you long enough.” 

“Took me long enough?” You tried for outrage but probably fell short, humor and elation buoying your heart. “And what about you, hmm?” 

“Been busy.” He nodded to the seat across from him, and you could just see the corners of his eyes crinkle with his smile. 

“Oh, busy. Yes, how silly of me to not think of that.” You dropped into the seat, your bag landing at your feet a little harder than was probably advisable. 

“Holiday?” His gaze dropped briefly to the table, to where your bag was now hidden. 

“Yes.” Some of your elation faded at the dose of reality. “You?”

He paused, holding your gaze. “On leave.” 

“Ah.” You smiled a little, sliding one open hand across the table. “Going well this time, then?”

He didn't say anything for a long moment, staring down at your open hand. His fingers twitched. “Not particularly.” 

Your heart plummeted. “Oh.” 

“S'fine.” He shook his head once, short and sharp. “You want anything? Tea, coffee?” 

“Coffee is fine.” You started to stand but he waved you back into your seat. 

“Wait here.” 

You huffed out a breath and watched him go, broad shoulders easy to track up to the register. You finally had the attention to note other details about him. He was dressed casually, all in black, with his hood pulled up. You'd caught blonde hair under his hood. 

Taller than you could remember him being. Broad shoulders. 

It was just… so good to see him again. To see him now. With your own eyes, in this life. 

It would be nice to make more memories, for next time. 

The clink of a mug being set in front of you brought you out of your own head. You blinked at the mug and then at him as he sat across from you again. 

“How long are you here?” He folded his hands in front of him, gaze fixed on you. 

You shrugged. “I had only planned for a few days,” you admitted. “But I can make it longer.” 

He grunted once, thumb tapping against the side of his hand as he considered something. Then he nodded once. “Meet me here tomorrow,” he said, abruptly moving to grab a pen and a napkin. “1200.” 

You blinked once. “Tomorrow?” You couldn't quite keep the disappointment from your voice at that. 

“Got some things to take care of before then,” he said, barely glancing up at you as he finished writing on the napkin. “Got some people for you to meet, too. If you want to know me better this time ‘round.”

You swallowed against the lump in your throat. He'd married already. That was the only thing you could think of. He was already married and you were too late. “I see.”

“No. You don't.” He pushed the napkin to you, tapping it twice with one large finger. “Here. Tomorrow.”

“1200,” you repeated dutifully, mustering up a wan smile. “Yes. I remember.”

“Good.” He pushed back to his feet abruptly, and you startled a little. He was just so tall! “If you don't show, I'll assume you don't want to meet again.” The words were flat, even, but his eyes… his eyes hid pain. 

You nodded, too startled for words by all of this. In a moment he was gone, striding out of the coffee shop and away from you.

Every fiber of you longed to go after him, to beg him for answers. 

Instead, you sat and sipped your coffee with trembling hands, staring at the napkin until the blocky letters were burned into your memory. 

The walk to your hotel was a bit of a blur. You barely paid attention to the social interaction, though you must have done well enough. 

You ended up sitting on the bed, bag on the floor, staring at your hands. 

He'd been so close. So close. 

But he hadn't taken your offer. He hadn't touched you. 

You thought you might finally be going a little insane. Was this what insanity felt like? Was this some kind of fever dream? Had you finally lost all sense of reality?

But no. You had the napkin in your pocket still. You'd seen him. You hadn't learned his name this time around, hadn't learned much of anything really, except that he had people he wanted you to meet. 

People. He'd said people for you to meet. 

The words finally sank fully into your brain, and you weren't sure whether to laugh or scream. People. People to meet. As in more than one person.

As in he was not only married but had a family…

…or something else entirely. Something new. 

Even after so many lives, the world still had a way of surprising you. A lesson hard learned over time. 

You forced yourself to breathe through the weight of history on your shoulders, staring back at all the lives where things had gone wrong. 

And then you forced yourself to find some dinner, shower, and read for a while before bed. 

Not that you slept very well. Not with anticipation and dread wreaking havoc on your heart. 

You arrived at the meeting spot ten minutes early, a little cafe on a square with a fountain in the middle. You stood outside, hands in your pockets, unsure what to expect. 

“You’re early.”

You swallowed once, heart thudding hard against your ribs as you turned to look at him. “Didn’t want to be late,” you quipped, only to falter. 

He wasn’t alone today.

Three other men stood with him, all of them looking at you. You lifted your chin a little, meeting the gaze of the closest man. You had just enough time to note how blue his eyes were before the memories slammed into you. 

A quiet life working the land, out beyond the edge of the “civilized” world, a husband with a rare but kind smile, eyes so blue you could drown in them. Rare trips to the nearest town gave you glimpses of your brown-eyed man, but no more than that. Cold winters and muddy springs and indomitable shoulders to lean on through it all. 

And a slightly less quiet life of some wealth, with a husband whose work often took him from home. But you’d had friends that time, your own societal duties. Dances. Events. Hosting. That life had not been devoid of its fun and beauty. 

“Oh.” You blinked at him, eyes wide. 

His lips twitched under his facial hair (muttonchops - unusual choice for this day and age) and he held out a hand to you. “Captain John Price.”

You gave him your name and shook his hand, holding his gaze for a moment longer. If he was like the him you’d known, he was a good man. Time would tell if and how he had changed. “I married you before.”

He grinned for a moment, so close to the man you’d known that your heart ached. “Twice, but don’t hold it against me,” he joked before he stepped aside. 

The next man to step up also had blue eyes and a big smile. You knew him immediately - you’d seen him before, too. A few times in the shadow of your brown-eyed love, once or twice on his own. The last time you’d seen him, he’d been standing over the bed of one of his men, half-covered in blood and muck. 

There had been nothing you could do, then. 

Now you smiled. “Good to see you again.” 

“Ye look better this time.” He chucked you gently under the chin with two knuckles, grinning. “John MacTavish, call me Soap.” 

“Soap?” You raised one extremely unimpressed eyebrow. 

He laughed. “A story for another time,” he promised, winking at you before he stepped back. 

The last man looked at you, nerves in the pinch of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. Darker skin and a ballcap met your quick perusal. 

You only had to meet his gaze for a moment before you threw yourself at him, hugging him as hard as you could, breath stuttering in your chest. 

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, arms immediately settling around you, one hand cupping the back of your head. “It’s alright, we’re fine.”

“You left,” you grumbled, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to do that to me again.”

“Promise,” he muttered, voice low, just between the two of you. “I won’t.”

You sniffled, just once, before you pulled back to look at him. “I missed you,” you admitted before gently whapping his arm. “And if you disappear on me again I’ll hunt you down next life.”

“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, not even a little abashed. 

“So, what ridiculous nickname have you gotten this time?” You smiled, finally taking a half-step back. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he scoffed. “Gaz. Kyle, this time ‘round.”

“Gaz.” You tested it out slowly before shrugging. “Not the worst.”

“Oh? And what would be?” Soap snuck up next to you, looking eager for mischief. 

“Story for another time,” you shot back at him with a smile. You finally turned your gaze to him again, to your brown-eyed man. The only one who hadn’t given you his name yet.

“Simon,” he finally said, as if he’d read your mind. 

“Simon.” You smiled. “How did you…?” You made a helpless motion between the three men. 

“Price,” Simon answered with a little shrug. “Found all of us.” 

“Came across ‘em,” Price said, arms crossed over his chest. “Knew I had to keep ‘em close.” 

You nodded, a little ache in your heart. “It’s a good thing you did.” But your gaze didn’t stray from Simon, too busy basking in the sight of him, here and whole in front of you.

“He’s no’ married yet,” Soap said in a stage whisper. When you glanced at him, he was grinning. “Unattached. Available. Free to a good home.”

“MacTavish,” Simon growled, brows twitching in annoyance. 

But you? You grinned. “Well, that’s good, because it’s your turn this time,” you teased, chin tipping up and to one side. 

Simon’s gaze snapped back to you, eyes a little wide. “What?” 

“I asked you last time,” you said patiently, trying hard to not grin. “Almost kissed you in front of your fiance, too.” 

“Almost,” he agreed, eyes warm as his gaze swept the length of your body. 

“I spotted you yesterday, too,” you pointed out, completely reasonably and not at all like a little gremlin. (You liked that word a lot and had incorporated it as much as you could once you’d caught airmen using it during World War II.) 

“So, ‘s my turn?” He took one step closer to you.

“Mmhm.” You bit the inside of your lip hard to keep your grin to yourself. 

His eyes narrowed at you, which was the only warning you had before he pulled down his face mask and kissed you. Vaguely, you heard Soap cheering and Price grumbling. But everything fell to the back of your mind.

Everything that wasn’t Simon. 

A little piece of your heart clicked into place. 

When he finally pulled back, both of you were a little out of breath, holding each other tight. His lips twitched in a tiny smile and you all but beamed in response. 

And then yipped when someone yanked you away from Simon.

“Best friend dibs,” Kyle announced, already starting to walk you away. “Mine for now, I’ll give her back in a day or two.”

You cackled at the look on Simon’s face, like he was torn between murder and laughing along with the joke. 

“There’s no rush,” you couldn’t help but tease. “We’ve got this entire life, now.” 

Simon met your gaze again even as his long strides caught him up with you and Kyle. His mask was back in place now but his eyes were warm, smiling at you, even as his hand twined with yours. 

Finally. 

[mochiwrites]

late night visitor.

in which grian gets a visit from the city’s popular hero, hotguy.

reblogs > likes

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There’s a tapping sound at Grian’s window. He straightens up from where he’s hunched over at his desk, papers from the library waiting to be sorted and marked. The pen he has in his hand is set down as he turns around in his chair, angling himself toward the window. Soft brown eyes flick toward the glass, and his lips curl in a slight cringe.

Standing behind Grian’s window, right on his balcony, is none other than the city’s top hero, Hotguy. Irritation and confusion sparks within him as he sees the orange and teal clad man, arrowhead insignia proudly displayed on his chest. His sleeves are short, leaving the muscles of his biceps exposed. Fingerless gloves sit on his hands, bow and quiver on his back. An orange and teal mask covers his face, letting Grian see no more than his green eyes. His brown hair is dark in the cover of night, a small ponytail at the base of his head. A pleased smirk sits on his face, a signature look.

Grian feels his eyebrow twitch.

He pushes himself up from his chair, taking a few measured steps over to the hero. Hotguy’s smirk widens as Grian moves closer, until he’s right in front of the window. The glass slides up, and Grian lifts a brow, “Don’t you have more important things to do than haggling civilians, Hotguy?”

“Gaggling? I’d never do such a thing!” Hotguy retorts, a playful lilt to his words as he smiles down at Grian. “I’ve only come by to see my favorite civilian!”

“Pretty sure you still have better things to do. Like patrolling?” Grian offers, stepping back. His words don’t seem to bother Hotguy as he climbs into Grian’s apartment through the window.

The breeze from the wind follows him in, adding a slight chill to the room. Hotguy straightens as both feet land on the floor, taking a look around the place as if he hasn’t seen it before. “Not to worry, Grian. I’ve already finished patrolling for the night!” he says proudly, moving to set his bow down on the table nearby. “Besides, whatever I don’t catch, I’m sure Cuteguy will.”

It’s a statement Grian would put faith in, if he wasn’t the aforementioned hero. Maybe he can find a bit of appreciation in how much Hotguy seems to trust him, even now. There’s a small smile that seems to pull at his lips as he shakes his head.

He’s honestly not sure how he’s ended in this position, with his hero partner dropping by his apartment on occasion. Hotguy only found out where he lived because of a villain attack once. It had been way too risky to try anything that may give his Cuteguy identity away, so he had let Hotguy rescue him and get him safely home (the guy may irritate Grian sometimes, but he still owes him a lot).

From there Hotguy would come by once in a while, performing ‘check ups’ as he liked to call them. Grian thinks they’re just excuses to slack off. Hotguy vehemently denies it of course.

It’s something he’s gotten used to after a few months of this happening, even if it makes him nervous. He doesn’t want Hotguy finding out his identity, nor does he want to know Hotguy’s.

Because he’s a liability. Who knows what could happen if he ever found out and it was used against him. Or…

He still owes Hotguy so much.

So far it’s seemed okay. It isn’t like there’s much connecting Grian to Cuteguy in his apartment. Hotguy certainly hasn’t put anything together, which he can breathe a sigh of relief at.

“Ooooo, what’s all this?” Hotguy’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, causing Grian to angle his head toward him from where he had been staring off. The hero has migrated over to his desk, peering down at the papers. He picks one up, “Up late organizing papers again, huh?”

Grian shrugs in response, “Sacrifices have to be made now and then.” He then frowns as he watches the hero turn a page toward him, reading it. “Hey, put that down will you?”

“Ooooo, town history! How fun,” Hotguy hums as he sets the paper back down on the desk. He turns back to look at Grian with a charming smile. “Though there’s definitely better ways to spend your evening, G.”

“Good thing you’re not me then,” Grian snorts, shaking his head. “I happen to quite enjoy staying indoors and organizing papers. I much prefer it over dealing with pesky heroes,” he deadpans. He doesn’t, but Hotguy doesn’t need to know that.

“Oh, Grian, you wound me!” Hotguy cries playfully, setting a hand on his chest. “I bet I could make your evening ten times more amayzin’!”

The image that conjures is one that causes Grian to shudder. He can totally see Hotguy sitting with him in his apartment, talking his ear off about how cool of a hero he is He grimaces, “Somehow I doubt you’d make improve my evening. Actually, I think you—”

Grian takes a step toward him, only for the bow sitting on his table to catch his eye. He stills, words turning to dust on his tongue as he stares at the weapon. He’s seen it plenty of times in battle before, watched Hotguy shoot three glowing arrows at once with terrifying precision without even flinching. But he’s never seen it up close.

Walking over to the table, Grian sets a hand over it, humming quietly as the previous conversation is forgotten. “Weird to see you without this thing,” he idly comments. He traces over the edge of the bow with a finger, feeling the hard material under his touch.

“Ah, Grian, you really shouldn’t—” Hotguy tries to say, but Grian is already grabbing it. He turns and points the end right at the hero with a mischievous smile.

“What, afraid I’m gonna poke my own eye out or something?” he teases, shaking his head. Like he’d be careless enough to do something like that.

Hotguy walks over to him, frowning slightly. “Careful where you point that thing! That’s a weapon you’re holding.”

“I know what a bow is, Hotguy,” Grian huffs lightly in return. “I’m just looking at it. I’ve never seen it up close before.” His gaze returns to the bow, a curious hum reverberating in his chest.

“Well of course you haven’t,” Hotguy chuckles quietly. The frown lifts from his face, lips going lax as he stands in front of Grian. “I usually don’t let anyone other than my technician handle it. But I guess I can make an exception for my favorite civilian. As long as you’re not shootin’ any real arrows.”

“How kind of you.” Grian’s eyes trace the details of the bow, a bit of awe in his expression. It’s not light by any means, Grian has to hold it with both hands. How the hell does Hotguy shoot with it? He knew the guy was strong, but this is something else. The bowstring is black and hard to pull back, Grian finds, as he experimentally tugs on it. The bow itself matches Hotguy’s aesthetic well, with the top half being teal and the bottom orange. On its own it’s nothing special, just some heavy bow. But its user makes all the difference.

He glances over at Hotguy with a hint of curiosity, “How do you handle this thing, anyway?” It might be helpful to know for the future, should anything happen and Cuteguy needs to make a quick shot. He’s no Hotguy when it comes to precision, but he can certainly try.

Hotguy doesn’t answer immediately, instead gazing at Grian through his mask. His eyes are soft, contemplative as he thinks over his response. Grian waits, gaze drawn to the bow in his hands instead of the hero in front of him.

“Well,” Hotguy begins after a moment, moving in, “firstly, your position is all off.” He slides up behind Grian, causing the shorter to stiffen. A hand falls over his, the one holding the bow, and it’s raised. “Angle your feet ninety degrees, and keep them shoulder length apart.” He gently nudges Grian’s right foot with his boot, encouraging him to fix his position. “Good, just like that.”

Hearing Hotguy so close to his ear sends chills down Grian’s spine, little pinpricks that tingle right down to his lower back. He can feel the hero’s breath against his neck, and Grian finds his face feeling warm. Why is he suddenly so embarrassed?

With gentle fingers, Hotguy lifts Grian’s arm, pointing the bow at nothing. “You’ll want to keep your arm straight. I’d normally load an arrow at this point, but I think it’s in our best interest to keep those away from you,” he chuckles, and the sound is smooth like velvet, low and deep. Grian shudders. Hotguy speaks quietly, like being any louder would send Grian scampering away as if he were a startled rabbit.

Hotguy keeps his grip on Grian’s raised arm with one hand, the other sliding around to his front. Gentle but sturdy fingers settle over Grian’s stomach, setting a light pressure against his abdomen. His hands are warm against Grian, he can feel his heart stuttering in his chest. It’s hard for him to concentrate with the hero so close.

“Don’t trust me with an arrow?” Grian can’t help but ask, his voice surprisingly just as quiet as Hotguy’s.

He feels the way Hotguy’s chest rumbles from his laughter with how Grian’s practically pressing against him.

His cheeks feel really warm.

Movement from the corner of his eye has him shifting his gaze to lock eyes with the hero. He sees a soft gleam in them, something that seems to go past the kind of look a hero may direct at a civilian. It’s softness is reflected in the depth of Hotguy’s eyes, all forest-like green and bright with color. The green seems lighter like this, smoother.

Grian wonders what his face would like if the mask wasn’t there. Would the softness sit on his expression? Would it still be so open, like Hotguy’s heart on his sleeve, if there were no make to shield it? Would he let Grian see it? If Grian asked would—

He quickly shakes himself out of those thoughts, horrified. Where did they come from?!

“I want to be careful with you,” Hotguy finally murmurs to him, and god that is not helping with Grian’s embarrassing thoughts! “Giving you high tech hero equipment you don’t know how to use kind of goes against that, Gri.”

Gri.

Gri?!

What the hell is happening right now?!

Some sort of noise punches its way out of Grian as he stares at Hotguy, struggling for some sort of response. Normally he’d reply with snark, some kind of sarcastic remark. But right now he’s coming up empty, unable to move away from the fact that Hotguy is holding him and he doesn’t want him to let go. God what’s wrong with him all of the sudden?

Hotguy’s eyes seem to widen at the noise Grian makes, and just like that the warmth is gone. “Oh gosh! I was totally just all up in your grill there!” he exclaims, stepping back. He seamlessly takes the bow from Grian’s hands as he moves away, leaving Grian’s back rather chilly. His face is red, if not more red than Grian’s is. The two of them are trapped in some sort of staring contest with each other, individual thoughts racing.

Neither speak.

“W-Well uh, that’s how you use the Hotguy bow! P-Pretty neat huh?” Hotguy says after a moment, chuckling nervously. Something on his wrist beeps, and he glances down at it.

Grian breaks out of his stupor then, watching Hotguy move. “Something wrong?” he asks, finally finding his words.

“Nothing to worry about. Just duty calling.” Hotguy looks back up at him, cheeks still warm with a nervous smile. “I’ll have to cut this one short! We’ll save the archery lesson for another time!” He gives Grian a salute before heading back out the way he came.

Alone in his apartment, Grian stands. His heart is still pounding, staring at where the city’s hero stood not even a few seconds ago. Wordlessly, he falls back in a chair, still staring off.

Maybe he should’ve been called Whirlwind instead.

[backtothefanfiction]

Professor Peter Parker

Summary: The first day of college nerves are suddenly made worse when you realised the guy you f*cked last night is your new Physics Professor!

Warnings! 18+ ONLY! This is some of the filthiest smut I have ever written and posted on here yet. Female reader and pronouns, Age gap (everyone is of legal age, Peter is a very young Professor), Oral (F + M Receiving), Dirty Talk (so much fucking dirty talk), praise kink, edging, P in V, Peter Parker (YES he does need his own warning), One Night Stand... or is it?, ITS SEX PEOPLE, JUST STRAIGHT UP SEX WITH A LITTLE PLOT FOR ADDED TENSION AND POW!

Word Count: 4.9k+

A/N: Consider this my formal application piece for the literary prostitutes society. There are no words for this, so I'm just gonna type/sing Don't Lose Your Head from Six. "Sorry not sorry but what I said, I'm just tryin' to have some fun..." But seriously though this was so self indulgent and I can't believe this came out of me. It's very much giving Aria and Ezra in Pretty Little Liars but older and much more Peter Parker. Also I am really sorry about if the tense keeps changing, I sometimes have a problem with finding my rhythm and I really cba to spend the time working it all out and changing it.

First day of college. Standard level of nerves for a first day. Are you running on just a couple hours of sleep? Sure. Still a little tipsy from last night? Okay, yeah, maybe just a little, but that’s a good thing right. Takes the edge off. But then again numbers and science had never let you down before. You can do physics. You’ve got this.

You took a deep breath, hand hesitating on the door handle. ‘This is the first day of the rest of your life.’ You said to yourself, breathing deeply.

You found a spot somewhere in the middle of the room. Not so eager you were at the front but you also didn’t want to hide away in the back. That and you were pretty sure you were due for an eye test and if you sat any further back you wouldn’t be able to read the board. You got out your notepad, flipping open to the first page, your fingers smoothing across the fresh paper comfortingly. You reach for a fresh pencil from the novelty pack your Mom had bought you especially for your first week, knowing you prefer the feel of writing in pencil than pen, the ink always getting smudged on your hand from your messy scrawl. You pluck the one with tiny zebra all over it from the clear case before placing it back in your bag. Your fingers drum the back of the pencil on your page nervously as you wait. You tried not to overthink things as your stomach began to churn. Had you really turned up this early? You took a quick look around the room at the other 5 people who had actually been there before you. ‘Hey,’ you reasoned to yourself, ‘at least you weren’t as early as them.’ 

You yawned. Damn you were tired. Although you had this early class, when your new room mate suggested you go out with the guys who lived across the hall you couldn’t say no. To be fair, it had been a good night all considered. You had met some new people, exchanged a few numbers, agreed to go to the end of semester drama club performance even though the term had only just started, drank way too many jello shots, got snuck into a local bar and then ended up going home with a tall brunette with the softest yet devious brown eyes you had ever seen who completely rocked your world. 

You absentmindedly rubbed your thighs together, squirming slightly in your seat as you thought back to his head between your legs. The lewd moans he’d pulled from your lips echoing around your brain. It sent a fresh new wave of arousal straight to your core.

‘Not the time or place.’ you berated, instead forcing your mind back into the classroom and the task at hand. ‘Physics of Matter with Professor Peter Parker. He was probably middle aged’ you thought to yourself. It was always the case with classes like these, middle aged men finally leaving the lab for the first time after finally completing their life's work, now relenting to their wife’s begging to spend more time with the family. Or older men with white hair, wrinkles and tweed, desperately holding on to their independence, understimulated by the idea of retired life when all that knowledge of matter and the universe was rattling around their brains. ‘Young hot professors were only to be found in the movies or on TV’ you daydreamed as you tried to distract yourself from the growing pit of nerves in your stomach.

You check your phone every few seconds as other students file into the room, finding their own seats as you count down the minutes. 5 minutes… 3 minutes… 2 minutes… 1 minute… … He’s late… 1 minute past… 2 minutes past… 3 min-

“Okay, okay, settle down!” A voice called out as the classroom door opened, far younger than she expected and slightly familiar. “Welcome to Physics of Matter,” the voice continued as he made his way towards the board, picking up a bit of chalk and lifting it to the board as he spoke, “I am Professor Parker, but please,” he said dropping the piece of chalk back onto the little shelf at the bottom of the board, “call me Peter.” He said finally turning around.

SHIT!

DOUBLE SHIT!

You dip your head towards your page as you sink a little bit down in your seat. Hopefully he won’t notice. ‘FUCK!’ your head was suddenly screaming as all those memories of the night before flooded your brain again. His messy hair. His naked body. The way he had moaned into your cunt- FUCK!

You subtly glanced around the room from your head's dipped position. This had to be some new prank show right. There’s no way this happened in real life. There had to be cameras. He’s an actor right? Ashton Kutcher was about to burst through the classroom door shouting “YOU’VE BEEN PUNK’D” any second followed by the actual Professor Parker, right? Right?

“Now I’m not gonna ask you to get your books out this lesson,” he began to say playfully, his voice carrying around the room as he walked back and forth in front of his desk surveying his new class. “Today is about you getting to know me and me just going over all the things we are gonna be covering over the course of our year together.” He said, talking a lot with his hands. “As much as I’d love to start getting into equations with you, I’ve learnt that that tends to be futile during our first lessons. I mean, just by a show of hands, who went out drinking last night?” Professor Parker asked and a shower of hands across the room went up, Peter’s gaze scanning across the faces of the raised hands as he continued, “Keep your hand up if you’re still a little bit drunk-” his voice cut off as his eyes finally landed on you, his own oh shit face befalling him.

You felt your skin crawl as people lowered their hands and began following his gaze to you. You moved your hand up to your face as you sank down in your seat further. ‘Stop staring. Stop staring. Stop staring!’

8 HOURS EARLIER 

“I couldn’t help but see you staring.” He said as he sidled up to you. ‘Holy fuck’ he was gorgeous. Tall, lean, perfectly messy brown hair and the most delicious biceps (not too big) that were flexing under the cuffs of his fitted T-shirt you really just wanted to wrap your fingers around and squeeze. Damn. “Is she okay?” He said turning to your friend.

“Yeah she’s just-“ your roommate started before nudging you and breaking you from your hypnotised gaze on this absolute Adonis of a man. “She thinks you’re really hot!” she shouted over the music to him.”

He raised his eyebrows as he gave a small chuckle, flattered, as you cringed. They both laughed at you. “Do you wanna dance?” he asked as he took your hand.

“Yes, she does!” your friend said, pushing you off your stool. His other hand comes out to steady you as you almost slam into his chest. You blush before turning to give your roommate a death stare. 

He flashed one of those charming smiles again before he began to guide you away from her and to the dance floor. His hand doesn’t leave yours as he starts to bop and bounce, easing you both into the music. You slowly relax, smiling as a giddy feeling churns in your stomach, as you begin to bop with him to the music.

The music swells and he gives you a twirl under his arm before he pulls you closer to him. “So have you got a name or am I supposed to refer to you as flower for the rest of the night?”

You frown. “Why Flower?” 

“Isn’t that the name of the skunk in Bambi who is all quiet and has those big eyes and blushing cheeks and-”

“Don’t call me Flower.” you quickly say, slightly embarrassed by the way you had gone all goo goo eyed and helpless over him.

“Okay, then what can I call you?”

You hesitate for a second as you think about giving him your real name but what would be the fun in that, especially if this only turned out to be a one night stand. “Trouble.”

He laughs, his head dipping to hide his amusement. “Is that so?” he says from beneath his lashes. “Fine, if that’s how we’re playing it, you can call me Professor Brat Tamer, Professor for short.”

You feel your arousal soak your panties the moment he says it, the words going straight to your core. What have you gotten yourself in for? It’s like he knows too from the way he’s smirking. He turns you, pulling you back into him, his hands resting on your hips as he begins to grind himself against your ass. “Now, are you gonna be a good student?” he coos against your ear only loud enough for you to hear. “Or are you gonna be like your namesake says and cause me a whole lot of trouble?”

He can feel the way you relax your body back against him, your eyes closing as you relish in the feeling his words elicit in you. 

You smirk as you look back at him, “I’m sorry Professor, but you may have your work cut out for you.”

An hour and a half later he’s pulling you into his apartment, your back slamming hard against a wall of exposed brick as your mouth latches onto his. Both of you had done so well keeping your hands to yourself the whole way back, but the moment you got through the door it was like a starting pistol had gone off, both of you suddenly in a race for pleasure.

You moan against his mouth as his tongue slips between your teeth. You can taste his final Jack and Coke he had had before you left. Your skin felt like it was burning under his touch.

“Fuck.” You gasp as his mouth is suddenly moving across your jaw and down your neck, his teeth and stubble grazing you slightly in his hunger for you. 

“God Trouble, you sound so fucking pretty.” he coos against your chest, his hand moving to paw at your breast, bunching it up to spill over the top of your dress as he leaves wet kisses across the skin.

Your fingers wrap around his messy tresses as you pull his head back up so you can connect your mouth with his again, a small growl escaping his lips at the slight pain. You kiss him messily, both of you breathing heavily before you push him back, allowing you room to drop to your knees on the hardwood floor. Your fingers immediately begin to fight with his belt buckle, the sound of the metal clinking sending arousal straight between your own legs.

“Fuck.” He pants as he looks down at you, his hand reaching to cradle either side of your face as you pull down his jeans and his boxers in one swift pull. “Uh, baby, baby, baby.” he coos as you take his length into your mouth and immediately begin to work your tongue up and down his cock.

His fingers move away from your face, grabbing at the hem of his t-shirt and you watch as he pulls it up and over his head, exposing the rest of his body to you. Fuck he really was gorgeous. “Oh my god.” he cried out when you began to swallow his length down your throat, your nose pressing to his pelvic bone. “Uh,” he said, his head tipping back, “she’s not trouble, she’s fucking perfect.” he says as he drops his head back forward to watch you, his thumb reaching to wipe away a stray tear at the corner of your eye.

You take his length out of your mouth as you gasp for air and he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard. “Come here Trouble.” he says as he takes your face and chin in his hands and lifts you from the floor, pulling your lips back to his as he smashes his mouth into yours.

He begins to kick off his shoes as well as his jeans and boxers that now sit tangled around his ankles as he continues to kiss you, freeing himself so he can lift you up into his arms, your own arms throwing themselves around his neck, as he carries you to his bedroom.

You can’t help but cheekily bite at his lower lip as he stops just before the foot of the bed. “Oh she has some bite does she?” he says against your mouth. Your teeth almost clash together from how close you are as you grin, waiting to see what he’ll do or say next. “Okay,” he says as he pauses a little for dramatic effect, “I can bite back.” he says before throwing you back on the bed.

You let out a small squeal as you're caught by the mattress springs and pillows. You quickly prop yourself up on your elbows so you can see the devilish look on his face as he pulls off your heels before he stalks up the bed towards you. He leans over you, attaching his lips to yours once more, his tongue sliding deftly into your mouth and out again with every kiss until his last, when he uses it to suck your lower lip between his teeth, pulling on it. He releases it just as you’re beginning to feel it bruise, his lips instead attaching to your throat as his hands come up to pull down the top of your dress. He had already clocked that you were sans bra from how low the back of your dress was and is even more grateful now he can immediately latch himself onto your nipples, his tongue lapping at the small sensitive nibs, one and then the other.

You moan under his touch, your eyes falling closed as your head tips back, fingers gripping tightly at the covers beneath you. When he looks up at you, keening under his touch, he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “Look at me baby.” he softly commands and you oblige, your chin pressing to your chest as you gaze straight into those big brown eyes. It’s the sexiest eye contact you’ve ever held. It’s like he’s fucking you with his eyes as his fingers begin to snake their way up your thighs, lifting the bottom of your dress up to your hips so he can pull down your underwear. He takes one feel of them before saying, “Fuck, trouble, these are soaked.”

You can only nod in agreement, as all words seem to have left your brain. ‘Fuck, he’s so fucking hot’ you think, as he kisses his way down your middle, over your dress until he reaches the hem where he can start kissing at your skin. You sigh, your head falling back again at the sensation of his lips kissing across your hips and then down your thighs. 

His fingers spread your legs and he gives a small nip to the inside of your thigh and you gasp at the small feeling of pain, that quickly turns to pleasure, as yet another wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“Fuck, baby, you’re dripping.” he says as his finger scoops up the arousal thats begining to drip down your thighs, bringing it up to his mouth. You watch hypnotised as he sucks on his fingers. “Damn, trouble, you tast so fucking good.” he says as he slips his fingers from his mouth. It’s so filthy. He has barely done anything and you’re a fucking goner.

His tongue suddenly crashes between your folds. “FUCK!” you cry out loudly. His fingers trace over your thighs, reaching for your own fingers which you entwine with his. He’s got his eyes closed, savouring every moan, every little gasp he pulls from you. 

He can tell you’re getting close from how your cunt begins to grind itself down against his tongue, chasing you’re high, but to allow you to have it would be too easy. He listens closely to your breathing, your moans; one… two… he suddenly moves his mouth away and you want to scream. He playfully nips at the inside of your thigh, almost hard enough to bruise. You really do scream now in frustration. “Told you I could bite.” he says coily as he mumbles against your skin. 

He licks another stripe through your folds as if in apology, as if to soothe the sting but his tongue flicks at your sensitive clit before he sucks it hard between his lips and you cry out again. “Mmmm.” he hums against your cunt, “you sound so pretty when you scream like that.”

You want to cry, you are so sensitive and overstimulated but suddenly he’s lapping at your pussy again and you’re melting back into the bed as your muscles begin to relax again with the long slow licks of his tongue.

When you both begin to feel the build of your climax again he doesn’t pull away this time. He lets you have it, your thighs closing around his head, hips bucking off the bed as the wave of pleasure crashes over you. He keeps going, his mouth lapping up everything you’ll give him until you're pulling yourself away from him. Tears well in the corners of your eyes from the over stimulation as you pant and whine and rub your thighs together, desperate for the feeling to dissipate. He grabs at your ankles, holding you still as you flop back into the pillows at the top of the bed.

“So good for me Trouble, you’re doing so good.” he says as he crawls up the bed to kiss you. 

Although he’s wiped at his mouth, the taste of you still remains and you lick it off every part of his mouth you can reach as he settles himself between your legs.

His hands slide up your thighs before they’re grabbing ahold of your waist and suddenly he’s flipping you, his head crashing into the pillows as you straddle his hips. Your lips race to chase his as you continue to pant breathlessly into his mouth, another flood of arousal soaking between your legs. 

His fingers reach for the bottom of your dress, lifting it up and off your head, leaving you finally, completely naked before him. “Fuck, trouble,” he moans as his eyes drink you in, “has anyone told you how absolutely fucking perfect you are.” You giggle and blush as you lean down to kiss him. “No. No. Look at me.” he says as he takes your head in his hands and moves you away from him so you have to look at him. He’s giving you that look with his eyes again as he holds your face in place, not allowing you to break eye contact with him for one single moment as he begins to grind his hips up against you, his rock hard cock grinding against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp. “So fucking perfect.” he repeats. “Now tell me, trouble, how do you want me to fuck you?” You can’t think, your eyes closing as you try to focus your thoughts as his skin drags across your clit teasingly. He gently taps your cheek with his fingers, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. “Eyes on me Trouble,” he says, “find your words, tell me how you want me to fuck you.”

You shake your head as you close your eyes again, really unable to think. “Options.” you say breathlessly, your eyes flying open, before he can punish you for breaking eye contact again. “Give me options.” 

“Okay.” he concedes with a small nod and a smile. “Okay, pretty girl.” he repeats again soothingly as he pulls you back down closer to him, his lips kissing you sweetly and encouragingly, aware he’s over stimulating your brain. “I can fuck you like this.” he says as he looks into your eyes. His hand slowly trails down to wrap around your throat, his other hand still cradling the back of your head as he flips you again. “Or I can fuck you like this.” he says as he continues to slowly grind himself against your sex. “Or,” he says as he lowers his head down to the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply as he speaks directly into your ear, “I can flip you over and fuck you from behind.” You sigh as his words go straight to your core again.

“The last one.” you say breathlessly as your eyes close.

“MMM.” he hums into your ear as his teeth nip at your jaw, satisfied with your response. He pushes you back into the bed slightly as he lifts himself onto his knees, his hands moving away from your face and you watch him eagerly as you await his next move. He leans over to the bedside table, reaching into the draw for a condom, lazily tugging at his length with one hand whilst he uses his teeth and the other hand to open it up. You’re almost starring as he’s rolling it down the length of his cock, fully taking in his erect size. He smirks when he looks up to notice you nibbling at your lower lip.

“Come here, trouble.” he says before he’s flipping you over, your head finding a comfortable position on the pillow as he lifts your ass into the air. 

He slides his fingers down your opening before placing two fingers slowly inside you, stretching you out and you let out another breathy moan at the feeling. He pumps them in and out of you a couple more times before he slowly lets them slide out of you, his fingertips dragging agonisingly across your clit before he uses them to pump his cock again a couple times, shifting himself into position.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hips as he lines himself up and slowly pushes himself inside you, your back arching with the stretch, head shifting as you let out another moan of satisfaction into the pillow. “Mmm, let me hear you baby.” he says as his hand removes itself from your hip to reach for the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he turns your head back towards him.

“Fuck.” you hiccup as he pulls himself out little by little before he’s slamming his hips forward against your ass, pushing himself in even deeper.

“Fuck, trouble. So fucking tight for me.” 

You lose all ability to speak as he begins fucking into you, slowly building his pace until he’s fucking into you at a wicked speed. You want to scream again, your face screwing up in ecstasy as his cock continuously hits that spot inside you that makes you want to explode. His other hand reaches around for your throat, pulling you back up as he leans over you so he can stick his tongue back into your mouth. It adjusts his angle somehow, making the feeling in your cunt even more intense. Your mouth falls open as he holds it there, you’re panting and moaning into his mouth. “Look at me.” he encourages as his thumb rubs soothingly across your jaw. You can’t help but obliged. 

It’s too much. It’s the hottest, most filthiest sex you’ve ever had. You know you’ll never be the same again. Nothing, no one, will ever compare to this. “Please, please, please.” you find yourself repeating as your eyes close again. You’re so close and he knows it because your cunt is constricting like a vice around his cock. 

He moves his hand down to circle at your clit between your legs. “Come on, trouble, give it to me,” he coaches, “Fuck, baby!” he snarls against your mouth as he smashes his lips to yours again, pulling at your lips bruisingly. 

You pull your mouth away from him, wailing, gasping for breath as your body convulses around him, his pace only slowing slightly to help you ride out your climax. “So good.” he coos, “My trouble, so fucking good for me. Atta girl.”

His pace is steady as he feels you begin to relax again but you’re still so stimulated. You’re surprised he’s still going. “Your turn.” you say to him breathlessly and he smiles. When he doesn’t say anything you decide to push your luck. “How do you want to fuck me?” you coo, now you’re the one who’s eye fucking him.

You watch as he closes his eyes, head falling back. He chuckles then, something low and devious. He suddenly pulls out of you. It makes you feel so empty. You’re about to whine but then he’s flipping you over and pulling your legs together and then over his shoulder as he bends you in half. He lines himself back up with your entrance and slips back in with ease and you gasp as he bottoms out, the position making him hit that devastating spot inside you instantly. He leans all the way over so he can kiss you, his mouth swallowing every moan, gasp and breath that leaves your mouth as he pounds down into you like something fierce.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” you whine as the sensitivity grows too much. His pelvis is slamming against your clit with every thrust. Now you really are crying, your eyes rolling back in your head as you feel yourself clamping down on his cock again. 

“Oh my god, baby.” he says. “You’re so fucking wet. So fucking good. Such a good fucking girl.”

It’s a guttural wail you let loose into the room as you cum and his head dips down as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, his thrusts growing even faster as he chases his high. “Stay with me, Trouble,” he says, trying to ground you. He lifts his head, hand reaching for your face, forcing you to look at him. “Just a little bit longer, baby, just a little bit-” but he can’t finish his words. He’s so fucking close. One pump, two- he suddenly stills as he buries himself inside you, his forehead pressing into yours grounding you both as he pumps his seed into the condom inside you. You whine at the feeling of his cock pulsating against the still extremely sensitive spot inside you.

“You did so good.” His voice reassures as he strokes soothingly across your cheek forcing you to look at him as you breathe deeply and heavily in your come down. “So fucking good.” he says as he kisses your forehead before slipping out of you. 

With his body no longer crowding you you fully relax back into his sheets, your eyes closing as you try to regulate. You think you might even pass out. You think you may even have blacked out for a second, but you know you haven’t as your eyes fly open and your body jumps at the feeling of a cool damp cloth between your legs.

He watches you content as you suddenly relax once more, the cool washcloth doing wonders to soothe the hot swollen feeling between your legs as he cleans you up. You definitely black out then, completely exhausted.

You are disturbed again a few minutes later, a soft reassuring hand brushing up your legs. “Here.” his voice says softly as he sits on the side of the bed next to you, waiting for you to open your eyes and look at him so he can pass you a glass of water.

The cold liquid does wonders to help regulate your temperature and you can’t help but stare at him again in wonder as he sits before you in a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms. He leans over you, kissing the top of your head, breaking you from your sex induced stupor.

“You can stay if you want.” You nod your head, you have no energy to move yet.

“Okay.” he says with a soft smile as he takes the now mostly empty glass from your fingers. “I’m gonna go get you another one of these,” he says motioning to the glass now in his hands, “you go to the toilet, there’s a spare toothbrush under the sink, get yourself ready for bed and when you get back we can cuddle.”

You still have no words, just dociley nod and agree. You wobble slightly as you try to stand, blood rushing back to your limbs and his hand reaches out to steady you. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it.” You say as you sway slightly and wave him away.

He just chuckles. “Whatever you say, trouble.”

You crawl into bed beside him 5 minutes later, tucking yourself into his side as his arm wraps around you. “You really are Professor Brat Tamer huh?” you joke as you nestle into his bare chest.

“And don’t you know it.” he smiles, pulling you tighter into his side so he can place a kiss to the top of your head.

You wake just after 6am, sneaking from his bed with a smile on your face as you pick up your clothes before doing the walk of shame back to your student halls. The sun is just coming up and the leaves are just starting to change, you can still feel the alcohol in your system as well as the after effects of your orgasms and you know, although you’re tired, today is gonna be a great first day… or was it?

________________________-

@tarzinnia @withahappyrefrain @xenasolos @sincericida

Is this a one off? I don't know. Is there a lot of room for this to turn into a collection of shorts... yeah, maybe.

[winterarmyy]

Promise Me | Part II

When he was sent out for war, Bucky made a promise to his lover that might just last through several lifetimes.

Navigation: Part I | Part II | Part III (end)

Words: 5.2k++

Pairing: 40s!bucky / eventually tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Warnings: little angst, melancholy but fluffy stuff, we have bucky's pov in this one, lovers who missed each other very much, emotional reunion, probably bad writing of fighting scenes (sorry guys), mentions of suicide, mentions of sexy times, death of main character (y/n' s past life), another attempt to follow mcu timeline, otherwise, nothing that's too heavy/sensitive for anyone to read.

P/S: Thanks so much for the feedbacks in previous chapters! Here's the new update, guys! I hope you enjoy your reading!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Brooklyn, 2024 – Glimpses of the past

"So, Mr. Barnes, are you still having nightmares?" Dr. Raynor asked as she leaned leisurely on her chair. However long it had been since the first time she met Bucky on their first therapy session, she still couldn't crack the man to talk more than he deem necessary.

Bucky sat silently on the sofa that was certainly big enough to fit three people with its size, as he stared blankly at the door behind Dr. Raynor, wanting to avoid eye contact with the woman.

"James, I asked you a question." She prompted as she crosses her legs together. "Are you still having nightmares?"

If he was being truthful, then his answer would've been yes, however he decided to test if she managed to see through him, "No." He replied with a convincing tone.

Dr. Raynor paused for a moment as she eyed his behaviour,  "We’ve been doing this long enough that I can tell when you’re lying." She quirked her eyebrow as if she was non-verbally asked him to cut the crap.

"Well, you seem a little off today. Did something happen recently?"

Yes. Something did happened recently.

Sure, there was the horrid nightmare that had been haunting him in his sleep most of the nights, but lately there was something else that's been making unannounced appearance in his dreams. Something much older than his memories of the Winter Soldier.

They were glimpses of the past where he was but a man in his mid 20's living his best life with a woman he thought he was going to end up growing old with.

Bucky saw images of his younger, undamaged self tangled up in bed with that woman. His hands raking through her raven hair as he pushed the mess away from her face. And when she whined in her sleep he would let out a soft chuckle as he lovingly stroke his thumb across her cheek.

He remembered feeling the tug in his chest when the morning light touches her brown eyes as she peeled them open. He remembered the sweet smile she graced upon him as she pulled him in for an innocent kiss. He remembered the warmth of her naked skin rubbing against his own when she snuggled back into his body.

Those were always a pleasant dream to have during his sleepless nights. However rare it was to have them; he found himself spared in the gentle grace that she left behind from those loose pieces of memories. He realized that his broken soul yearns for her peace more than his will longs for his freedom.

"No." He lied again.

"You’re a civilian now. With your history, the government needs to know that you’re not gonna…" Dr. Raynor gestured her hands as if there was an invisible knife in her grasp as she motioned a stabbing movement.

Bucky let out a silent sigh, nodding his head with a somewhat forced derpy smile as she continued to explain, "It’s a condition of your pardon. So, tell me about your most recent nightmare."

However, Bucky remained stubborn on keeping the memories of his lover to himself. He simply shook his head as he briefly looked to the side and out the window, before coming back and confessed, "I didn’t have a nightmare."

Dr. Raynor breathed deeply, letting the air out through her nose as she clicked on the mechanical pen. The pointer latched on the surface of the lined papers as she started to write down her observation.

Bucky who was sitting on the opposite side only scoffed in respond to her petty attempt of threat, "Oh, come on. Really?" He taunted, "You’re gonna do the notebook thing?" Rolling his eyes in annoyance as he commented his thoughts outspokenly, "Why? It’s passive aggressive."

"You don’t talk. I write." The therapist replied with a short comeback.

Bucky glared intensely at her before letting out a sigh, "Okay. Okay."

His flesh fingers started to fiddle with his metal ones, a habit which he noticed he recently picked up after getting used to the high-tech vibranium arm.

"It wasn't a nightmare. It's just..."  Bucky didn't know how to put it in words other than, "...a good dream."

It was in the peak of witching hours, when Y/N stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen section of her lover's humble apartment. The quiet of the night sometimes interrupted by the sound of the droplets trickling from the faucet.

There was a luminating light of the full moon that leaks through the open window, granting enough of a vision to see the layout of the kitchen. The stillness of the air made Y/N wonder if this is what she would need to go through soon.

Just an empty atmosphere without the presence of her lover.

And there she goes again, wondering in the seemingly endless darkness, thinking of the worst things that could possibly happen.

She had been staring unblinkingly at the counter top for who knows how long since she was woken up from her slumber.

Y/N couldn't go back sleep even if she needed to. Not when tomorrow is the day that she dreaded the most. The day Bucky was going on his first call, to be sent away to England first thing morning.

"Missed you in bed, yknow?" The huskiness of Bucky's voice broke her from the gloomy thoughts. 

Y/N turned around to first see the bare shape of her lover's body, lean and slightly muscular, then trailed up to his sleepy grin, barely opened eyes and the mess of his bed hair sticking out all over the place.

She had to admit, partially, it was her fault for constantly pulling on them when he went down on her. But it was also important to note that it was entirely his fault for being so damn good at it.

Bucky's humming was hoarse when he walked towards her, "What are you doing up, doll?" While Y/N watched his naked figure moved closer.

Bucky Barnes is a beautiful man.

She knew that even before they started dating but it is a wonder that his beauty still to manage to catch her off guard sometimes.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she whispered onto his skin, "Can't sleep." She kept it short and ambiguous but that only became the biggest giveaway to Bucky.

Bucky effortlessly lifted her up on the counter as he settled comfortably in between her legs. His hands trailed along the side of her thighs, casually lifting up the thin material of her night gown before going under it to gently fondle with the flesh of her hips.

He leaned upwards, placing the softest kiss on her lips as he murmured, "Everything's going to be alright, y/n." He kissed her again for a good measure, "I'll be home to you before you know it."

Y/N wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him closer until their forehead touches each other's, "You must write me, always." She spoke quietly; as if it was a secret she wanted to keep from the world.

"You must tell me everything, James. Don't hide anything from me; every blood, sweat and tears. I want to know all of it." Her eyes pleaded desperately, "You must be safe." Their lips hovered over each others; so close, barely even touching, "And come home."

The blue of his eyes were glazed with so much love and adoration as he whispered, "I promise, doll. I'm not going to die before I meet you at the end of the isle."

Somehow, Bucky always knew what to say to make her crack a smile, "I love you, James. Too much for my own good." She pulled him as she kissed his soft lips, "I love you too, y/n. More than anything." He grabbed her by the head, latching his mouth on hers as if it was their last kiss.

Before she knew it, Bucky swiftly pulled her off from the counter and grabbed her onto his shoulder, causing her to yelp in surprise. "Oh my god, Bucky! Put me down right now!" The brunette simply laugh as she shriek his name, "James!"

"James!" Dr. Raynor managed to pull Bucky out of his thoughts. "You're clearly out of it today." She remarked before continuing, "And so, this woman in your dreams... Is she someone you knew back in the 40's?"

Bucky replied, "Most probably." He hesitated as he thought thoroughly, "Or it could just be a made up character that only exists in my dreams."

"Does she perhaps, have a name?" Dr. Raynor asked, in which he simply answered, "She does."

There was brief silence of unbroken eye-contact between them, before Bucky realized that the therapist was silently enquiring her name.

Bucky straightened his position in his seat as blatantly stated, "I'm not telling you her name." That was where he drew the line. Therapist or not; she didn't need to know his lover's identity.

Dr. Raynor hanged her hands up as a sign of defeat, "Okay, okay. That's fair." That was when the timer on her phone went off, "Oh, time's up." She reached for her phone and slide across the screen.

She quickly stood on her feet as soon as Bucky did on his own, "That would be all for this session. Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Barnes."

He had to let out a sarcastic chuckle when he said, "It's not that I want to anyway. It's mandatory." He walked towards the door but before he could turn the knob, Dr. Raynor spoke.

"Outside of this 'mandatory' session, I'd say my advice to you as a friend, is to maybe find her. Or her family." She suggested, "And if you're lucky..." She briefly paused, "...maybe she's still alive somewhere."

Bucky remained static for a moment before he spoke, "Thanks, Doc." He didn't look back to face her at all, before walking out the room feeling much more burdened than he did entering it.

Dr. Raynor's advice soon turned out to be a constant dilemma to him more than he anticipated.

Virginia, 1991 – The man she once loved

Y/N panicked. She didn't think the appearance of that metal-armed man will trigger a deep-rooted memories she was desperately trying to forget; spiralling her back into old chapters of her previous life.

It was the year of 1991 and Y/N was in her 6th life. She was a black widow that went rogue after managed on escaping the Red Room program about a few years prior. She was drunk on hatred and vengeance that she almost recklessly killed half of the people in her facility on the day she escaped.

It's not to say that she came out uncut, it was quite the opposite really. Y/N had left the grounds with multiple holes on her body and a deep wound her face; a cut from the inner edge of her right brow all the way across her left cheek.

And that left her with a very prominent and unforgettable scar. Though she couldn't care less about it, especially when she knew Hydra was out there still thriving under another intellegence organization like some kind of parasite.

After she heard the news that Howard Stark has successfully replicate the super soldier serum, she is now somewhere in Virginia, trying to hijack the products before it falls in the hands of the Pentagon or worst, Hydra.

Unfortunately for her, the worst thing that could happen, happened.

Someone from Hydra managed to get their hands on them before she could, leaving the corpses of Howard Stark and his wife in the broken down car, posing it as a road accident.

The bodies was still warm and she knew the culprit won't be far from the crime scene, so she rode on forward until managed to catch up with him. She never intended to confront him head on. She was planning to follow him to the meeting point where they will transfer the products to another Hydra agent, like they always do.

But he certainly didn't care about her plan when he changed his route to a different location. She didn't even realized that her incognito was useless when he nearly shot her in the head.

Now, with her cover blown, it was just him and her alone at the gate of an abandoned building. "Well, shit." Y/N cursed.

She could feel the heavy tension from the atmosphere. Silence from the wordless man were screaming louder than her pumping heartbeat.

There were only two of those run-down street lamp that helped to brigthen up the battlefield. But even with the dying light, Y/N could see the silver of left arms, a red star on the upper side, black mask covering lower half of his face and a messy black shadow all over his eyes.

She knew who he was; though most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. Hydra's most prized asset from the Winter Soldier program that Y/N had been trying to track for months.

Maybe it was a careless greed, or maybe she was just tired of living. But, Y/N dared herself to fight the against super soldier. It was intense but completely one-sided as the soldier managed to counter most her punches and kicks.

There were times that she felt like he was simply playing around with her and that riled Y/N to the core. If it wasn't enough for God to toy with her life, now this weapon of Hydra is joining the fun.

She was sick of it; and it got her to be impatient. That, however, was a mistake that she shouldn't have done especially during a hand-to-hand combat with the Winter Soldier himself. 

Y/N ducked down from his swinging arm as she surged her own towards him but the man could see her moves from a mile away, so he dropped his knife to his other hand and managed to strike the blade right into where her pulsing heart resides.

All the times she had ripped her own life, it seemed that her soul was used to the pain that it took a few moments of time to register the pain.

"Ah, this is truly exhausting." She thought to herself.

She wanted it to end.

She wanted to rest. For good.

In her hazy vision, she looked up at the soldier and noticed that he had been staring blankly into her eyes; like a curious predator watching his dying prey.

She knew it was wrong, but looking closer at the shade of blue in his dead and frozen eyes, she couldn't help to find the resemblance in the man she once loved.

It was cruel to find the semblance of her lover in the eyes of her killer, but that tends to happen when a person's soul longed for someone so much that everything and anything became the reminder of them.

Streams of tears trickled down into her ears as her blood seeped through her clothes, staining the fabric and the ground under her.

Instead of hearing the sound of the soldier's footstep walking away, all she could hear was the vivid memories of Bucky's laughter, "I miss you, James."

She truly did.

She missed him so much that she wished that she can finally die this time around, praying for a chance to meet him once more.

But alas, that's not gonna happen anytime soon. Not when the God hates her now.

"I miss you so much." her voice shivered as she whispered her last breath.

Madripoor, 2024 – Long-lost lover

Easy to say, Y/N was furious that she let the memories of her past, the appearance of the winter soldier, distract her focus for her mission. She was furious that she didn't manage to get into Wilfred's lab before someone else did.

Don't get her wrong, though.

She was somewhat grateful when she found him dead, because that's means there's one less parasite that could potentially revive Hydra from the recreation of super soldier serum. But, she was pissed that she wasn't able to dig for more information about his research and the people he was affiliated with.

She knew he was recruited by the CIA before the blip but seeing that his lab is now basically a cargo, located in Madripoor, she doubt that he has anything to do with CIA now.

He's probably working with someone else in the underground scene.

Y/N sat leg-crossed on stacks of cargo, as she watched the scene from afar. The bounty hunters were ruthlessly attacking a group of criminals that attacked Shelby last night, while they were completely out-numbered.

She heard from the bar that it was considerably a high pay for the rewards especially when the targets were consists of the runaway prisoner, Zemo, Hydra's weapon, the Winter Soldier and the member of Avenger, the Falcon.

It was indeed an odd group of people but she couldn't care less about how that came to be. What caught her attention was the fact that the Falcon, who is a member of the Avenger, was affiliated with the Winter Soldier, who is an asset of Hydra.

And the fact that they were digging their feet in the underground world for the super soldier serum making the trio combination even more concerning.

She knew it was the best bet to approach the Falcon for information rather than going for the other two, so when the group split up during their fight, she quietly followed the Falcon.

He was a bit clumsy when fighting alone; or maybe it was because the hunters kept streaming in non-stop. Nonetheless, one by one, eventually the Falcon managed to take them down.

Y/N lurked at the corner, quietly observing his fighting style as he struggled with the few that was left.

"He's going to run out of ammo." She thought to herself.

And two shots later, he did.

There were two hunters left and he had no choice but to use his fists. Looking at him now, maybe he suited the hand-to-hand combat style more than gun combat. Y/N noticed his moves are more seamless than when he fight with a gun a few seconds ago.

The Falcon breathed heavily as the last hunter was tackled down. She decided that it had to be now or never, at least before the winter soldier came to the scene to regroup. When she stepped out of her camouflage, the Falcon only noticed her presence that he missed the red dot on his chest.

But, Y/N saw it, "Fuck! He can't die. Not before I get what I want." She couldn't let him go without getting information she needed from him.

In mere seconds, she jumped towards him and managed to pulled him away from the target. However, it was not far enough, that was when the bullet grazed on his side. Y/N quickly grabbed her throwing knife and land it right into the hunter's head.

The Falcon staggered backwards, meeting his back on the side of the cargo as he groaned in pain. His eyes scanned the appearance of his potential saviour; hooded figure, mask-covered face, assassin-like dressed – he realized that she matched the description of what Sharon had warned him before.

"So before we move, this might be unrelated, but I gotta warn you guys about someone." Sharon spoke as she equipped herself.

The three men looked over her as they gave their undivided attention, "While last night was hectic with the return of the Winter Soldier." She briefly looked over at Bucky, "But, there was also another person that made an appearance."

"She's known as the Deathstalker." She paused. "What I can say about her is she's a basically mystery; appeared out of thin air a few months into the blip." Sharon explained, earning a couple of nods from Sam and the signature frown from Bucky.

However, Zemo simply smiled and commented, "Ah, the pretty little Deathstalker." The mannerism of his speech was thick with Sokovian accent.

"You know her?" Sharon quirked.

Zemo smiled again, this time a little bit too smug, "We might have once crossed our path." He kept it ambiguous.

"When? You were in the prison years before the blip." Sam frowned as he questioned.

Sipping on the glass of liquor, Zemo answered, "She may or may not have 'visited' me to get some information about Hydra."

The mention of Hydra caught Bucky's attention but he kept it well hidden under his stoic expression. Noticing Sam's confusion with Zemo's insinuating answer, Bucky simply laid it out for him, "It means, she broke into the prison, Sam." he simply sighed.

Sam jutted his lips as he shrugged, "Guess you're not the only one who's insane here, Buck." He teased as he poked fun of Bucky's decision of 'breaking into the prison' to let Zemo out.

"You said, 'pretty little Deathstalker'. So you've seen her face?" Sharon asked curiously as she crossed her arms to her chest. No one had seen the assassin's face before, so she could help but to ask.

Zemo shook his head, "No. But that signature mask of hers cannot hide the beauty within." He smirked as he recalled the look in the Deathstalker's eyes; she had that obsession for vengeance. As he did when he broke the Avengers apart .

"You see, I've always had the eyes for beautiful things." He explained as if it was a natural thing to say.

Sharon knew shouldn't let herself expect too much from Zemo, especially when he had that attitude. She simply rolled her eyes and walked towards the seat next to Sam.

Bucky leaned his back into the sofa, spreading his legs apart as he asked, "Is she gonna be a problem?" An assissin that's been breaking into prison to ask Zemo about Hydra. That doesn't seem like a casual information to overlook.

Sharon shrugged as she continued, "Well, depends on your move. But, I'd advice you to never get on her bad side. People speculated that she's a rogue assassin turned bounty hunter but the thing is... she has never taken any job."

Bounty hunters get their money from jobs that's advertised all over the city. So, the Deathstalker couldn't be called a Bounty Hunter when she never take jobs before. If it were up to Sharon, the Deathstalker was much suited under the same category as Ronin, the masked vigilante who tracks down and slaughters criminals during the blip.

Sharon explained that, "She just stalks around the underground scene, and leave bodies behind for people to find."

Zemo interjected, "Hence, her name." Gaining a glare from Sharon, that translates to "Do you want to tell the story or what?"

"Right." Sam nodded as he takes in the information.

After earning a silent apology from Zemo, Sharon continued, "No one knows who she works for or what her aim is but there's rumours she's been hunting down Hydra, or anyone and anything affiliated to it."

Again, the Deathstalker's obsession with Hydra had caught Bucky's attention. A rogue assassin seemingly made it her mission to hunt down Hydra?

Bucky doesn't know what to make of that. So, he kept his questions to himself. Eitherway, if she gets in their way, he'd still need to fight against her.

"Why are you telling us this again?" Sam asked as he didn't find the connection between their mission and the Deathstalker.

Sharon replied, "It's just worth to note that she might be hunting for Wilfred Nagel too." She paused as her gaze fell into Bucky's, "...since the super soldier serum had been Hydra's obsession for centuries."

The Dealthstalker technically saved his life.

So, does that mean that she was not an enemy?

Sam was struggling between containing his pain and coming up with a plausible conclusion but Y/N's action quickly give him the answer he needed.

Within seconds, she had Sam pinned against the wall as the edge of her sharp blade dug into the skin of his neck, "What is an Avenger doing with the Asset?" Her voice sounded distorted through the voice-changing mask.

"Lady, I don't know what you're talking about!" He grunted in protest.

Sam was not used to Bucky being labeled as an "asset". Sure, he knew the name of Winter Soldier or Soldat. But, Bucky was never addressed as the Asset, at least not by the people around him.

Y/N grabbed him by the collar and harshly slammed him against the metal of the cargo behind him, causing him to curse as the pain struck on the side of his abdomen.

"Are you planning to revive Hydra?" Her menancing eyes searched into his, demanding for a truthful answer.

What kind of bullshit was she talking about?

Reviving Hydra?

Why the hell would he do that?

However, before Sam could retort to her accusation, Y/N was pulled back by an arm, wrapped around her neck from behind. She knew it was the Winter Soldier from the cold metal burning into her skin. The soldier's other hand grabbed onto her wielded hand, forcefully bending her wrist until the knife fell from her grasp.

He easily lifted her up in the air as he backed away, tightening the lock of his left arm around her neck while twisting her right hand to her back with his flesh hand. The smaller let out a robotic groan through her mask as she struggled in his chokehold.

While the two wrestled in between holding one down and freeing oneself, Sharon quickly ran to Sam's side, "Are you alright?" she prompted as she examined his wounds. The male simply nodded his head, "Yeah, it's just a graze." He explained before asking, "Is that the Deathstalker chick that you've been talking about?"

Sharon followed his gaze, and eyed the woman who was still struggling in Bucky's hold before she managed to land a paticularly sharp strike right into Bucky's stomach, "Yeap, that would be her." Sharon answered.

Usually a few strikes by an elbow of a woman doesn't really hurt the super soldier but unfortunately for him, the elbows of the suit Y/N was wearing were armored with thin yet effective pad made of vibranium. Due to its ability is to absorb and dissipate shocks, it managed to push him back and simultaneously loosen his hold on her.

When his guard was down, Y/N took the opportunity to  slightly twist her foot back around his and grab onto his left arm. She pushed her bottom into his hips as she bend over, pulling onto his arm as she flipped him forward.

Y/N stepped backwards, standing on guard as the soldier rolled over on the ground before finding a position to stop the inertia; one knee of the ground while the other leg paused at his foot with his back facing her.

Her hands reached to her back and pulled two knives from the holster on the belt, gripping them by the handle while the blades facing downwards. She bended her knees into stance, much like a panther ready to pounce.

But when the soldier stood on his feet and turned around, suddenly her defensive stance flatter and her breath were cut short. The battled-tensed surroundings did not matter when all she could see was the soldier's face.

He looked a bit aged from the last time she saw him but a lot younger considering it was decades ago.

How could she forget those livid-blue eyes sharpen beneath the deep frown he was wearing?

Or the softness of his pursed lips ghosting over her own?

Even if the smooth skin of his forehead were now decorated with thin lines of wrinkles, and the exhaustion in the discoloration under his eyes had overshadowed the playful glint he used to have; they could never fool her to believe that the man standing in front of her right now was not her long-lost lover.

"James?" Her voice was gentle but the voice changer behind her mask didn't quite conveyed her tone.

Suddenly, the high walls of her defences begin to crumble into mere pieces of fragments like crushed dried leaves on autumn grounds. Time suspended, almost too still, as if it was trying to give her the luxury to cherish the revelation; to revel in the moment of joy and relief.

And there wasn't any thoughts formulated in the fog of her mind besides the need to melt in his arm. Somehow the dark side of her mind managed to trick her into believing that if she didn't touch him now, then she would perish in despair.

Her feet inches forward closer and closer, and her knives were long forgone, leaving clancking sounds on the surface of the ground.

When Bucky heard his name uttered by the woman, somehow it didn't sound foreign to him. It was as if he'd heard it before.

And when he saw the wet glaze in her brown eyes as she hesitantly walk towards him, he knew then that she was not approaching with an intent to kill him; he'd dare to say it was quite the opposite.

There were so much emotions in her gaze; grief, yearning, sorrow, need, joy – that he even his ex-assassin's skill couldn't possibly decipher them all. And that had impeccably managed froze every nerves in his body until he can only stood there, paralyzed on his spot.

With each hesitant step, more tears started to swell in her eyes. Step by step she took, hoping he wasn't another fragments of hallucination that she made up to ease her needs, until she finally stood close enough to him to realize he was real.

Bucky knew he should move. Reprimand her before she could land any sneak attack that he might not expect; but he couldn't. Not when she gaze up at him with that look in her eyes.

He unexpectedly drowned himself in those waves of emotions in her eyes, not realizing her actions until her shivering hands cupped his face.

Her fingers were cold as if they were soaked in ice.

Her voice slightly cracked when she spoke, "Is that really you, James?" Even if she was looking directly into his eyes, somehow the question sounded like it directed towards herself rather than to Bucky.

It's real.

He's real.

Her eyes casted down to where her skin met his warmth. There was a slight tingle when her thumbs rubbed against the stubble of his jaw, prickling her skin perfectly just as she remembered.

"It's you. James. It's really you." She mumbled under her breath, convincing herself over and over as if her brain refused to acknowledge it while her heart does otherwise.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn't know what to do or what to say. But, he hadn't heard anyone called him by that name so affectionately since Y/N. The lover he left behind during WWII, who's grave he had been visiting every Tuesday morning ever since that particular session with Dr. Raynor.

However, something in his guts were screaming at him to reach out to this woman's plea as she cried in his presence, lost in her own world as she muttered his name again and again.

But, why?

Why does he feel the need to cradle her body in his arms, and whisper the sweetest things to calm her down?

Why?

Bucky gulped as his eyes loomed over hers, "Who are you?"

<< Part I || Part III >>

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Feel free to leave feedbacks! I'd love to hear your thoughts! Until then, see you in the next part 🤍

[xstarsmvxz]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 ✩

pairings ➜ hobie brown x kind!reader

warnings ➜ fluff, opposites attract, pet names, gn!reader, uses of weed, not proofread! i don’t really know what else?

word count ➜ 1.5k

M speaks! ➜ if you see the name “Asher” mentioned, it’s because that’s my cats name and I love her sm, she’s also so tiny cause she’s still a kitten so keep that in mind <3

➜ When Hobie first met you he honestly thought you were annoying.

➜ Your bright, optimistic attitude really got to him for some reason he didn’t know the answer to.

➜ You were way too kind for your own good, you always have a big smile gracing your face and you were constantly offering help to anybody who seemed like they needed it, even if they were a complete stranger!

➜ However, that kindness and happiness is what drew him in.

➜ He vividly remembers the day he realised you weren’t as bad as he thought.

You and hobie sat on either side of a soft grey sofa, waiting for Miguel to come back from wherever he rushed off to. Gwen and Pavitr sat on the sofa across from you guys, having their own conversation. You awkwardly played with the tips of your beat-up red and white converse, waiting for the courage to strike up a conversation. You softly clear your throat, “sooo.. where do you think he’s gone?” You hesitantly ask hobie. He doesn’t even glance your way when he replies in his thick accent, “dunno.”

You stare as he flicks a black ink pen in circles with his fingers. “That’s pretty cool, how do you do that?” You lean a little closer to him, trying to get a better look at how he’s doing it. He stares at you for a second, wondering why you’re all so interested in what he’s doing now. He slowly scoots himself a bit closer to you, feeling the slightest bit of warmth radiating from your body is a new type of comfort to him. “Like this..” He places the pen in between your thumb and index finger before he begins to slowly guide your fingers step by step. Your a bit stiff at first but once you memorise the movements you try it on your own. You start off slow but once you gradually get faster you drop the pen onto the floor. Muttering a small “oops” you lean down to pick it up and try again. Hobie slightly smirks as he watches you begin to spin the pen again.

After about seventeen tries you finally got it, spinning the pen skilfully in your hand you look up. “Hobie, Hobie look! Im doing it, oh my gosh!” You begin to get over excited, causing you to drop the pen again. Hobie let’s out a small laugh, leaning down to grab it from the floor. “Good job.” He praises as he begins to spin the pen in his own hand. “Thank you, Hobie..” You go back to fiddling with the tips of your shoes until an idea pops into your mind. “Hey, wanna draw on my shoes, they’re already pretty much ruined so it wouldn’t really matter.” He stops spinning the pen, taking the lid off of it and nodding his head. “Sure, why not.” He begins to draw small doodles on your shoes, such as small webs, spiders and pretty patterns. How ironic. You think to yourself as he draws a web with a spider hanging from it on the white part of your shoe.

Hobie smiles as you let out a small laugh, wondering what’s going through your mind. He continues to draw on your shoe as he thinks to himself. Your really not as annoying as he thought you were, you’re actually quite humble and soft. He begins to think about the friendship that potentially just bloomed between the two of you.

➜ Now let’s skip to when the two of you started dating.

➜ At first you were both kind of awkward. The two of you had only been friends for a couple months before you found yourself kissing him in your bedroom.

➜ you guys didn’t really go on dates, instead the two of you would normally just spend time together in your bedroom, watching movies or just having conversations about whatever comes to mind.

➜ he doesn’t really like “couple” things, but that doesn’t stop him from getting you small gifts whenever he can.

➜ some days he comes knocking at your apartment door, a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand.

➜ other days he will come to your house with smaller gifts like food or jewellery.

You sit on your bed, lying on your stomach with your feet in the air whilst you read a book that you borrowed from the library. Your cat sits next to you, purring in its sleep. Your head shoots up when you hear a loud knock coming from your apartment door. You place your book down next to your cat and walk out of your room, heading towards the door. Once you open the door, you come face to face with your boyfriend Hobie, who is holding a small bouquet of pretty flowers in his hand. You shyly smile, “Hi..” you greet. “Hey doll.” He extends his arm, placing the flowers into your ring adorned hand, all the rings he got you. “Hobie, they’re so pretty…” you stare at the flowers, touching one of the petals with your finger tips. “I love them! Thank you Hobes!” You give your boyfriend a bone crushing hug before running to your kitchen to fill a vase with water. You place the vase full of flowers in the middle of your small wooden circle table next to your couch.

You sit down with a sigh and beckon Hobie over. He sits next to you, placing his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. Just on queue, your grey cat Asher walks in, her fluffy tail swishing it the air as she jumps onto the sofa in between you and Hobie. You let out an airy laugh as you pet your attention seeking cat. “Who’s a pretty girl?” You ask your cat as if she can understand you, scratching her chin as she lets out soft purrs. It’s not long before you fall asleep, leaving Hobie to pet the ball of fluff sitting in his lap.

➜ once you guys get more comfortable with each other, the two of you are never seen without the other.

➜ Gwen literally thinks that you guys are meant to be in one body.

“You guys are literally always together, we might as well morph you both into one body!” Gwen says as she stares at the both of you sitting on the soft chair across from her, you sit on Hobies lap bridal style, leaning your head onto his comfy chest while he strokes your upper arm.

➜ At this point you tell Gwen everything about yours and Hobies relationship.

➜ She absolutely freaked out when she found out he was your first everything.

➜ And when I say first everything, I really do mean everything.

➜ he was your first kiss, first boyfriend and first person you ever slept with.

➜ He was always so patient and gentle with you, never forcing you into anything you didn’t want to do.

➜ In his eyes, you were so fragile and innocent. He was almost afraid to break you.

➜ One day, you begged him to let you smoke weed on the roof with him.

➜ You even had to get on your knees and beg before he finally agreed.

You sat next to Hobie, wearing one of his black jackets as you watch him roll a joint for you to share, he brings the joint to his lips before inhaling then exhaling the smoke into the cold night. He passes the joint to you, asking if you watched how he did it. “Yeah, yeah I did..” He watches as you slowly bring the joint to your own lips, inhaling the smallest amount before exhaling with a small cough. He laughs as he watches your eyes water a bit before you pass the joint back to him. “Didn’t like it?” He questions, taking another hit. “It wasn’t that bad, I just need to get used to it.”

➜ After that night you regularly found yourself sitting on that same roof, either smoking a bong or joint. Unlike Hobie, you liked bongs more, finding them easier to use.

➜ Though, the first time you used Hobies newly bought bong you choked, you were already high before hand so you and Hobie found it absolutely hilarious.

➜ The both of you fell into a laughing fit, holding onto your stomachs from the pain caused by laughing so much.

You lied on your back, holding onto your aching stomach as you uncontrollably laughed. “Hobes, help.. it feels like I’m growing abs!” At this point, tears were coming from both of your guys eyes.

➜ I imagine that at first he wasn’t really big on pda, he still isn’t but now that you guys have known each other for longer he’s a little more comfortable with it.

➜ The most public affection your probably going to get is a small peck on your lips.

➜ But his favourite thing to do is hold your hand, it brings him comfort and happiness knowing that you’re right beside him.

➜ Nicknames that he gives you consist of; love, my love, sweet, sweet stuff, babe and his personal favourite, sunshine.

➜ Overall your relationship is perfect for the both of you, neither of you could possibly want anything more or less.

➜ You were both unconditionally in love and nothing could ever change that.

masterlist

🕷🕸

[ssahotchnerr]

hi darling! i don't know if you're still taking requests (from when you say you were having writer's block), but i was thinking about a BAU!reader that has a massive crush on Hotch and her love language is "acts of service" so she is always helping him, bringing him lunch, preparing him coffee or things like that, is2g i just want to spoil the sh*t out of that man :( he just works so much, someone help him :(((

special delivery

cw; mentions of food, fluff hehe <3

"special delivery!" you announced as you crossed the threshold of aaron's office, a light spring in your step. your current giddiness came easily, despite the early hour of the morning. before arriving at the bau you made a stop at your favorite cafe, grabbing two coffees and bagels to go.

at the sudden movement, aaron's eyes lifted. as he saw it was you, his mouth quirked into a smile. "oh?"

"this," you placed his coffee, as well as the bagged bagel, on his desk, a grin on your own face. "is for you."

aaron's heart immediately warmed at your gesture, as it usually did. it wasn't uncommon for you to bring him a little something out of the ordinary. coffee was common, sometimes it was lunch, or one time you brought him a pack of his favorite ink pens- he had mentioned he was running out, and within twenty-four hours, he found a brand new set for him waiting on his desk.

"you don't always have to get me something, you know." he reminded you, twiddling the pen in his hand slightly.

"i know." your smile brightened. "i wanted to. and besides, whatever they have out there," you referenced the bullpen's kitchen. "i wouldn't even consider coffee. you, of all people, deserve better than that."

"you're always looking out for me, aren't you?" aaron asked amusingly, allowing himself to smile fully this time.

"again, you deserved to be looked after." your words escaped you before you could stop them, heat immediately rushing to your cheeks at your admission.

aaron's cheeks flushed slightly as well, but before you turned to leave, he spoke up. "is that one yours?" his eyebrows raised in question, using his pen to gesture at the remaining cup in your hand.

"if emily doesn't try to persuade me to give it to her, then yes."

aaron deliberately closed his file, grabbing onto his cup instead. as expected, it contained his usual, and favorite, order. "then in attempt to avoid that, why don't you eat in here with me? i mean, if you want to, of course."

that was about the easiest decision you could ever make, but you raised an eyebrow, mirroring his expression. "you sure?"

again, he couldn't help but display a small smile. his brown eyes bright. it wasn't an expression you witnessed from him very often, but recently, you could've sworn you've been seeing it more frequently. "positive. please, stay."

"do you want help on your files as well?" your gaze found the daunting stack of folders on aaron's desk once you had sat, making the pile on your desk seem absolutely miniscule.

aaron shook his head, taking a sip of coffee. "how about we just, be, instead? i'd rather enjoy my breakfast talking to you."

[famwhy]

I can’t get enough of the Yandere Dazai content like this is at least the 5th time I’ve read Realisation and Pt2 Headcanons 😍😍😍

Can you imagine Kunikida seeing the relationship and being too nervous to strangle or confront Dazai over it? Or Ranpo knowing and dropping hints to the others to try and get Dazai to back off a bit? Like

Ranpo: hey Yosano, don’t you think Y/N is better with _______ than Dazai?

Yosano: *agrees in protective aunt figure

Dazai: *realizes what’s going on and tries stopping it without Y/N noticing

Haha, thanks so much for the support you give me ❤

I really love this ask, it gave me instant inspo.

I also ended up spending a little too much time on Ranpo. Oops. He's my favourite, I can't help it.

(These headcanons are related to this post.)

♧ When you and Dazai first arrived to the ADA, you were a total mystery to all the members.

♧ The only thing they knew about you two was that Dazai was your mentor before joining them.

♧ Well, that's all everyone but Ranpo and the Director knew.

♧ The Director had to know of your past to give you approval to join the agency in the first place, so that was a given.

♧ Ranpo though?

♧ Well, he knew at first glance of course.

♧ He was (no, is) the greatest detective known to man, after all.

♧ He also knew about your little relationship with Dazai...

♧ It was... a cause for concern, to say the least.

♧ However, the detective decided to give Dazai a chance to redeem himself, he had turned over a new leaf after all...

♧ ...except that- no; no he didn't turn over a new leaf.

♧ He continued being forceful with you, feeding you with so much unwanted affection that you would burst from the seems.

♧ He, by no means, made it obscure that he had some sort of relationship with you that didn't lean towards platonic.

♧ How else was he supposed to lay claim on you with such a new threat to his place?

♧ You see, the Agency members slowly grew more fond of you as time went by.

♧ You would always help Kunikida with organising his schedules whenever Dazai ruined them again.

♧ You would go on a supply run for medications Yosano asked you to get and sweets Ranpo desired almost 24/7.

♧ You would also go out with the siblings and Kenji whenever you found the time to.

♧ A total sweetheart.

♧ Unfortunately for Dazai, that meant many inconveniences.

♧ Unlike the Port Mafia members, the ADA members don't know how to mind their own business.

♧ Ranpo was always tugging on you whenever you had some alone time with the brown-haired male, demanding you for your attention and even going as far as to ask for cuddles.

♧ Cuddles!

♧ Who the hell does he think he is?! Your boyfriend?!

♧ HE'S NOT!

♧ DAZAI IS!

♧ And damn does it boil his blood when that stupid man-child goes up to his equally-as-stupid best friend and asks her that same damn stupid question.

♧ "Hey Yosano, wouldn't Y/N make a better match with me than Dazai?"

♧ Like hell you would!

♧ It's so goddamn annoying not being able to strangle members of your Agency.

♧ Don't even get him started on that dumb doctor.

♧ Always narrowing her eyes at him when you were nearby, watching him like a hawk and having the audacity to call it being protective over you.

♧ Now, Ranpo noticed the little tics that would overcome Dazai whenever things like these would happen.

♧ The way his teeth would grit when you were approached for a conversation longer than 2 seconds.

♧ The way he would bite the back of his pen in agitation when you would offer to help someone that wasn't him out.

♧ They way he would casually wrap an arm around your waist when someone even thought of tapping you on the shoulder.

♧ It was very concerning behaviour.

♧ As someone with a strong moral compass, he couldn't just sit by and do nothing.

♧ He also couldn't necessarily challenge Dazai face-to-face.

♧ While the ex-mafia member may not have been as smart as him, he certainly beat him in terms of athletic prowess.

♧ Ranpo had to go about this smartly.

♧ Luckily enough, 'smart' was his middle name.

♧ Unluckily though, Dazai wasn't exactly an idiot.

♧ He knew Ranpo was provoking him and trying to get him to lash out so the Director could get him locked up.

♧ He knew.

♧ So he kept quiet.

♧ After all, actions speak louder than words.

♧ All he needed to do was a bit of a tug on your arm towards him and you, being the good girl he trained you to be, instantly returned to him.

♧ All the while, being completely oblivious to what was going on around you.

♧ As always intended.