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divinehedons · 9 months

Text

illicit affairs.

navigation: masterlist

pairing: dbf!joel miller x afab!reader

word count: ~5.8k (OOPS)

summary: the moment you graduated from college, you enter your young adulthood and begin a secret, messy situationship with the texan contractor next door.

warnings: this is an EXPLICIT FIC! minors and ageless blogs, DO NOT INTERACT or i will liberally use the block button! explicit, unprotected p-in-v sex, big age gap (r is in their early twenties, joel is in his mid-40s to early 50s!), oral sex, wet dreams, ass play. joel is an unintentionally selfish lover so expect some(?) angst and miscommunication.

note: much of this fic was pieced together with wildest dreams and the titular song, illicit affairs playing in my head. circe is in her swiftie era and i'm not sorry :'D nonetheless, i sincerely hope you enjoy and reblogs and comments are much appreciated!

You swore you could recall the day you met him easier than it is to breathe air.

You, wearing your graduation robes, glorious, and brand new with a college degree. Months later, he'll tell you the first thing he saw was the flash of skin from your leg, leaving him mesmerized until your father knocked on his door. Your dad, bless him, who invited the Millers for a spot of lunch to celebrate with your special day.

Him, in his best t-shirt (at least the least wrinkled), urging Sarah forward with a nudge to the shoulder, standing in your living room with a sheepish grin. "So you're the missin' college kid?" You laugh, moving to shake his hand firmly after having met his daughter.

"I guess that's me." You tell him your name, listen to the way his tongue traces each syllable. He says it again, squeezing your hand. It was then and there that you felt it— that shocking zap of electricity passing between you so firmly, that which you could only interpret as the barest inkling of desire.

You can still picture the glint in his eye. The slight raise of the brow. A silent question. You're just a sneaky little minx, aren't ya? Back then, you smile playfully, pulling your hand away to turn back around.

You see the end before it even begins. You see heaven tinted with the colors of hellfire.

"Pleasure to meet you, mister Miller!"

—

You dream of him after that meeting. Flashes of skin, you and the shape of him tangled between the sheets, his large hands cupping your warm cheeks, chuckling down at the sight of your bright red mouth. You dream of his thumb smearing your lipstick while those warm eyes take you in.

You dream of him between your legs, the scratch of his beard glorious against your shaking body. You dream of his chuckles vibrating against your thigh. You dream in flashes. Him pinning your hands above your head in one. Him leading you by your waist atop of him in another.

When you wake, you feel your cunt soaking and needy. You try and touch yourself to soothe the wanton need.

But it's not enough.

It's not his large callused hands. It's not his bulging arms. It's not him and it's not enough.

Fuck. You're down bad for Joel Miller and you only met him once.

—

The summer that follows was filled with stolen glances. You, taking your morning walks just as Joel and Sarah drive off for her summer job and his work. Joel, watching you whenever he comes home too early to see you enjoying a swim in your pool. Then ensued what to him was a moral digression, a moral challenge.

Does he dare desire someone as young as you? Someone a few measly years older than his own kid. Does he dare to encroach that wretchedness for something so pure and sweet and so fucking brand-new?

Take that weekend, for example, with you bent over his kitchen counter while you helped Sarah with painting her nails, the oddly familiar scent of nail polish barely distracting him from you and the knowledge that he had to squeeze past behind your bent-over frame to get a beer for him and Tommy in the garage. He'd asked for you to come because he needed someone to keep Sarah distracted and away from the garage. With a promise of recompense one way or another once they had it done.

Didn't know you're a real softie, mister Miller.

Call me Joel, kid. You'll make me feel all ancient an' shit.

At the end of it all, regardless of how everything turned out, you both agree it was the spark that eventually fanned out to a flame.

You, ass plump and presented despite your awareness, and his own clothed crotch passing by you and providing a minute second of contact. Contact that, if you dared confess, was nowhere near capable of satiating your curiosity about the much older man. You try to hide a sharp breath between your lips, pretending to pay him no mind as you gently blow on Sarah's nails.

"You have a really good eye for color," you commended the girl, smiling at him with a giggle just as Joel disappears around a corner.

Joel who hands Tommy his beer and, seeing how flustered he had gotten, clicks his tongue. "That girl again?" Was it that clearly written across his face, the insatiable desire to have you?

"Shut up," he'd mutter, sipping from his bottle before moving to get back to their weekend project. A shelf for Sarah.

When he tells you his side of the story, it goes like this: the sound of the hammer beating the wood, rhythmic, consistent, patient.

Thud, thud, thud.

And right after: it's the sound of your headboard hitting the wall while your parents are away for a date, Sarah on some sleepover with friends. His thrusts the same, insistent, rhythmic pattern, your same plush ass moving against the force of his hips, your whining little mouth crying out into the empty house.

He doesn't know how he got you. But, by Jove, he'd be a goddamn fool to say that he didn't want this. But the one thing he wanted to be certain of was that you wanted this. That he didn't imagine the tension between you.

"Tell me you love this, baby doll." He grunts, pulling out to flip you over on to your back so he can see you. "Tell me I'm not makin' you miserable."

You reached up to him, tangling your fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. You catch eyes, and you see he means it. Sees that he'll stop if you said nothing. Or if you asked him. That, despite the intensity of his thrusts, the same softie you saw that one weekend ago is right there. Vulnerable and willing in your touch. You can't afford having him stop. Not when you're so close. Not when he's all you've dreamt about since you came home. "Don't you dare stop, Joel..."

It's all the confirmation he needed. He looks at you with a look of recognition and you immediately understood. The man himself was memorizing every part of you; every mark and quivering muscles. He kisses you, and you understand him even without words. A part of you wanted him to confirm it. To say he'll remember you— legs spread and moaning for him, pleasure coursing through your veins only brought about by him.

You want him to tell you he'll dream of you for the rest of your life.

The same rhythm follows him into the dark night, only characterized by streaks of the color of your hair, your skin, your mouth... it's all he hears in his head, apart from your moans.

Thud, thud, thud. The iambic beat of his heart, pressed against the palms of your hands. I am, I am, I am.

It's the words he does not dare tell you. Words punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts where you want him most.

Yours, yours, yours.

—

He does not catch you on the Fourth of July weekend that follows. Your parents tell him you're meeting friends and hearing from jobs you applied to. That you've been a nervous wreck, only placated in seemingly random moments of peace, coinciding with the first time he wound up in your bed, heaving as his bones creak from history gone by. So he spends it the only way he knew to, in that primordial existence he lived before you came into his life in broad strokes of color. He spends it drinking cold beer, watching Sarah, and ignoring the sticky stares handed to him by single mothers that barely held a candle to your beauty.

The fireworks are things he does not hear without you there. He smiles for Sarah, reminds her not to get too rough in your parents' pool, periodically bringing her food to make sure she was keeping herself fed.

Later that evening, with Sarah finally in bed and his world finally exhausting itself of so much celebration, Joel hears your car pull up, the racuous noise of a friend of yours as you try and lead them into the house. From behind his curtains in his dark room, he hears your explanation over the loud laughter of your companion.

"She had no way of getting home safe, mama," you tried to explain, much to your mother's understanding as she and your father helped your friend inside.

Joel sees the slight tilt in your step. The slight unsteadiness. His own pretty girl, tipsy around people he doesn't know, and it fills him with an indescribable sense of envy. It's a sensation that oozes through his very veins, sludging until it completely covers him; like the hands of a murderer marked by his prey. He tries to resist it, that ancient calling of his very veins. Or, alternatively, he tries to resist letting his cock take control of his very being.

You were young and you deserved to experience the world. You were young and you never told him you belonged just to him. He shared some of your nights, yes. But it didn't mean he automatically became the king of your heart.

He paces his bedroom, back and forth, repeatedly, again and again and again. Count to twenty, take a deep breath.

And just like that, he feels like a teenager again. Sneaking out of his house and into yours.

When he finds you, he recognized the surprise on your face. The sudden, hushed, What are you doing here?

"Just missed ya today, 's all," he says softly, immediately pulling you into your own room, quietly shutting and locking the door behind him. "How's your friend?"

You giggle softly, evidently still a little affected from alcohol. "You didn't see her when you passed the couch?"

He smirks, stepping close to you, finding you adorable as you stepped back, chased by him until the back of your thighs hit the very edge of your bed. "D'you think I have eyes on anything else when you're around, baby doll?" You peer up at him and see the utter desperation in his gaze.

You hum thoughtfully, tilting your head to the side. "You missed me, daddy-o?"

He chuckles, moving closer to press a kiss to the very crook of your neck. He doesn't answer. He dares not confess the vulnerability you've seared like a mark on his skin. But he did. And he showed you that he did.

He pushes you down, falling to his own knees, legs thrown over his shoulders pushing your skirt up, your shaky breaths feeding directly into his ego. It's so easy to want you.

So he takes. With his tongue, with his cock, with your mouth happily taking his length down your throat. When he fucks your mouth, his hands cover and pinch your nipples, growling softly, trying not to risk being caught with a daughter so beloved, and him, the depraved devil defiling you.

"Gonna swallow all of me, baby? Yeah? Good fucking girl..."

You whine against him, squealing as you feel him lean down over you to pay attention to your needy cunt. Both hands, spreading your folds open with his tongue tasting everything he can take.

"Together, baby. Sounds good?" You hum against his skin, your legs beginning to writhe from the concentrated build of pleasure he orchestrated.

So he counts you down. His hips stuttering, your toes clenched, and his hands pinning you down.

Three. His body covers yours as his hands pull your legs back, the back of your thighs exposed to the cool evening air.

Two. You dig your nails into what you could of him, anyway to pull him closer. The taste of his skin on your tongue, the desperation of you trying to hold on to your orgasm to be his good girl.

One. Warm spurts of his cum shoots down your throat as the blinding flash of pleasure takes control of you. You don't know what it was about Joel. You don't know what it was about yourself either. The next time you opened your eyes, you caught a glance of his beard, completely soaked just as you see, too, the last spurts of your fluids, dampening the sheets beneath you.

You make up as lovers do, with him staying in your bed, your frame snuggled into his muscular form as you feel yourself drift in and out of sleep. "We should be more careful, darlin'," he whispers to you, pressing a kiss to your temple. You hum sleepily, pulling the sheets over your head.

"Says the man who sneaked into my room for a quick fuck," you say with a chuckle. You do not see the slight frown on his face. You do not comprehend the tug on his heartstrings at your words. "What, you wanna start texting?"

He groans, quietly climbing up above you so he can watch your features in relative silence. "Too old for that and ya know it, doll." He smirks, huge hands cupping your face gently, rolling soft, careful circles against your cheeks before he pinches them lovingly. "You're just a little fuckin' baby, aren't ya?" You giggle softly, trying to be quiet in a house full of sleepers.

"Isn't your window right across from mine?"

That makes him raise his head. Gently, moving away from you as naked as the day he was born, he crosses your room to peer out from behind your curtains and into his own quiet house. His open window from when he lost control, his own curtains dancing in the wind. He didn't even notice. Perhaps there was salvation for the devil after all. If a god was capable of blessing him with the sheer luck of having his window across yours...

"Why don't you hang that pretty lil dress of yours by the window if you want t'meet up, yeah?"

"Ah, yes. Joel Miller's very own cum rag."

He smirks, looking back at you as he leans down to press a final kiss on your forehead. "And I'll hang that shirt I wore when I met you if I want the same, yeah?"

It's thrilling to think about. Thrilling to think that you can share a language in windows. Like spies. You've read spy novels as a kid. It was always so fascinating, the hidden messages in invisible ink, the necktie knots that mean one thing or another. Discreet meetings, longing and wanting in every gaze.

No one else will understand. But you and Joel will.

You feel your heart flutter, reaching up to mess his hair just as the older man turns away to dress himself again in the shirt and shorts he had worn before. "You're lucky it's summer. You wouldn't have to make an excuse why you're burning bright red and sweaty." He manages a chuckle, looking back at you with a wink.

I'm good at secrets, kiddo.

He leaves, and you hide the way you feel the pit in your stomach as he quietly shut the door behind him. He moved noiselessly, while you lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Joel Miller has fucked you twice and yet, you're still just that.

A kid, a baby. Fresh-faced doll girl he has to check in on in the evening after a night out.

Waste not, want not, you began to think. I feel wanted. Am I also being wasted?

—

Joel dreams, sometimes. He hasn't dreamt for years before you came into his life.

That night, as he walked home in silence, cloaked by the dark of night, he feels the bed calling to him. The white noise of his fan calls to him as he strips, sinking into the sheets. The smell of you sticks to your fingers as he groans.

You, you, you. Naughty little minx, you.

Sleep had never been easier.

And just like that, his dreams bring him to you in some skimpy number, swimming through your parents' pool, making your way to him in clean, smooth strokes. You flash him a smile, pool wet and cheeks sun-kissed.

Hello, you.

You, willing vixen and goddess divine. You, willingly approaching his wide open arms. You, pressed with your front against the pool wall while Joel dreams of pulling your bathing suit aside and be so close with you.

That night, he dreamt of fingering you in the pool, your breathy, wanton moans escaping in a soft, steady stream of heavenly music. His breath, warm against the back of your ear, your neck marked up by his mouth, a visual he could never truly dare away from his dream world. It was too risky, too obvious. But in his dreams, he marked you, sucking skin between teeth and biting almost teasingly.

In his dreams, he could push the limits, too. He dreamt of his thumb, brushing over that tight, puckered backdoor. Dreamt it made you whine. Dreamt that you moved closer to him.

"D'you know, angel... that I want to be the only one who can ever have all this?" he whispers, free hand taking your chin to kiss your moaning mouth with a breathy chuckle. "Fuck... this little darlin's been so deprived, hasn't she?"

And in his dreams, he owns you so completely. Every hole claimed, stuffed full, and leaking. In the morning, he'd wake with the scent of damp mushrooms, boxers damp, and cock hard, the image of you fading away to the sound of Sarah moving in the kitchen.

Outside of his dreams, his life moves forward. And it does not stop.

—

He called for you more than you did him. It's easy to figure out. It's easy to pretend to be picking something up from the mall. It's easy to disappear for ten minutes before meeting under the peach tree in the parking lot. Sometimes he drives you to a motel. But there are times, like today, when you run into his arms in the early afternoon Texan heat, where he's immediately pulling you to the back of the truck, beard prickling against your warm, sensitive neck.

"Joel," you start, trying to pull away from him. "I came to talk to you—"

He plants a chaste kiss to your mouth, Shit-eating grin as he slips two fingers down your shorts to feel you getting wet through your underwear. "This pretty lil thing right here says otherwise, baby doll." He pulls back, fingers brought to his mouth to take a taste. "Fuck. Just so fuckin' sweet for me..."

It knocks the wind out of you. The news on your tongue dies away as you watch him, skies of hellfire colored in his eyes. With a shaky breath, you nod slowly.

"Haven't seen you all week, daddy-o." It's enough. It's crumbs that feed the insatiable man that just cannot be fed.

A goddamned beast, precious and divine.

"I know, I haven't been takin' care of the prettiest girl there is." He kisses your cheek, sitting across the backseat of the truck, pulling you to his lap with your legs straddling him as he grits his teeth eagerly. "Been so deprived, haven't ya, baby?"

Despite the arrogance, you were inclined to agree. In Joel's absence, consumed by his work, by his family, and you distracted with your efforts of making it into the professional world, you had to rely on yourself for pleasure. But your fingers were too small, too short, and cannot have the same impetus as that of his touch. And the very smell of him, the very presence... you were drawn to him, salivating and hypnotized like a moth to a flame. So you come forward, singing. "It just wasn't the same without you, Joel..."

He growls, cussing as he barely pulls his pants down to free his own wanting cock. A desire unquenched by his fist in the darkness. And it's easy. So fucking easy to rub his thumb in circles on your clit, making your cunt openly weep for him, as well as making it easier for you to welcome him.

"Take it, baby. Take it for yourself, c'mon," he whispers, and you do. His very own Jezebel, entrancing him with the way you rose up, bracing yourself on his shoulders while his left hand grips your hips, his right hand guiding his cock for you to sink down on. He lets out a pleasured breath, jaw clenching just as a moan emanates from you. You're warm and tight like a vice around him. He's stretching your willing walls in such a familiar way you almost think you feel at home.

Freely, he kisses behind your ear, marking the skin there where it's concealed just right by your hair. His hands assist your movement just as you began to rock back and forth over his cock, grinding your hips and squealing at the sensation of not just your cock filled to the brim, but the sparks of pleasure from how his skin brushes against your own clit.

"Fuck, baby. What d'you think your dad would say if he found out you're fuckin' his buddy in the back of a truck like a lil slut, yeah?"

All you do is respond with moans, whines, noises that show how desperately close he has you. Right on the brink of an electric glow, powered only by the desperate need to peak, to find bliss. He clicks his tongue, moving to cup your face with both hands while he thrusts up into you, watching the way your eyes roll back from need, making him growl as he presses one hand on the expanse of your jaw, making your cheeks puff up and your lips part willingly for him.

Just then, he chuckles at the portrait of depravity before him. "Such a noisy lil mouth on ya, baby. So fuckin' loud for me, yeah? Does daddy have to be the one to shut you up?"

You squeal, eyes brimming tears. "S'all for you," you whisper, hands pressed against the seat to balance yourself, chasing your release in intermittent bursts of energy. Just then, two beefy fingers from the man who has such a hold on you plug up your mouth, immediately turning your breathy whines into quiet hums, throat constricting around his fingers. He fills you up so well, even with just his fingers, and it makes you weak in the knees.

"That's it. Just needed something to suck on, didn't you, baby?"

Just then, he turns the pleasure to its very limit. His own hips, speeding up his own thrusts from below, his warm breath heating up your face, his free hand wrapping around your neck and squeezing the sides with a dark chuckle. His eyes, two shades darker, makes you quake, your noises multiplying when you reach the very peak of pleasure. His own moans intermingle into the humid air, groaning needingly against you.

"That's it, baby. Come an' cream f'me. That's it, that's it..."

The permission granted to you makes you feel alive. Driven by a purpose, your orgasm comes as bright and clear as day. Spots of sudden brightness momentarily blind you with a gush of happy hormones. You scream against his fingers, the vibration from your noise making him smirk proudly down at you, so willing and filled by him and only him.

Good girl. Good fuckin' girl f'me, baby...

You both come down from the high with him nestled deep within your cunt. Your head, leaned against his shoulder while he tries to regain his breath from the effort you both gave.

The words return slowly.

"Y'want me to drive you back?"

You peer up at him, lashes fluttering softly. "Are we being obvious now?"

He smirks, kissing you again, brushing your cheek gently. "God, kid. The mouth on ya."

With that, you begin to slowly pull away from him, reaching for your underwear the dress yourself. To suddenly feel his cock that once filled you pull out, manage a quiet shudder. The sudden emptiness as stark as the sudden urge to leave.

"I..." You breathed in sharply. "I wanted to tell you I got a job."

The silence between you is thick with tension. You don't know what to say next. And neither does he. "Oh!" You look to him with longing glance, just before you check yourself in the mirror with a shaky breath. "So you'll be busy..."

You shrug, breathing in sharply as you try and make yourself seem less dishevelled. "I guess."

You give him one last look, one last chance to try and read him. Only to find his walls built up, features unreadable. You knew for yourself that one word from him and you'd lay down your guard. You'd let him drop you home. You'd let the world know you like him. But, without any indication of him wanting anything but your body, your cunt, or your mouth, you think of it as a shame.

And to think you had been driven to ruins by wanting him. So instead, you sigh, opening the truck door.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Joel."

—

taglist! @captainmads2092 @dev1lm4n @yrbxdyisnxthing @csarab615 @jessie8605 @buttstrawberry @reallyidontcare @jbb-98

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf!joel miller x f! reader #dbf!joel miller smut #the last of us fanfiction

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alocon · 3 months

Text

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [2] - Max Verstappen

written by alocon

Note: Name and Part One based on the song A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be by Jess Benko

Summary: After the release of your first song, released the day before the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix weekend, there is some obvious tension in the garage as you and your ex boyfriend have one final fight for the championship.

Warning: Angst? I guess. Use of Y/N (sorry, I don't like using it but there were a couple of times that I had to bc I didn't have any alternatives), some social media at the end.

[The Masterlist] [Previous Part Here] [Next Part Here]

A Soulmate Who Wasn't Meant To Be [Part Two] - MV¹

2024 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix

Thursday - Media Day

"Lovely to see you all," Crofty said, looking around the group of drivers in the press conference. On the couch was Max, Lando, Charles, Lewis and You. "Firstly, Y/N, all of us over at Sky Sports are loving the new song, it’s been the talk of the paddock all morning too. Lots of us want to know, who is it about?”

You chuckled, knowing that you’d be asked at some point. You hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “Firstly, thank you. I’m glad that so many people have been liking it. Lew and I have literally been working on it since like the start of the year. I’m so thankful that he agreed to do the guitar for me because I wouldn’t have been able to do this without him. As for who it’s about.” You paused, looking quickly at Max, who’s eyes were already on you. You looked at him for a moment before turning your attention back to Crofty, making sure to look at glance at the drivers as you did. “It’s about one of my ex’s. I won’t say which one.”

“And the name. How did you come up with the song name? How are you feeling about this weekend, by the way?”

“It was something that he said to explain why we broke up. I like to think that everything happens for a reason, you know? And sometimes, things aren’t meant to be. And that’s just life. I’m just glad that people like it. I’m so excited for this weekend. As you all know, it’s been hard working towards this weekend, and I’m looking forward to giving Max a hell of a hard time.”

He chuckled, looking at you. Your eyes went straight to him, sending him a competitive grin. “Hope you’re looking forward to P2 in the drivers, buttercup.” Him hitting you with the teasing childhood nickname was a surprise. He started calling you that when you were both 14 because he slipped a buttercup into your hand and it scared the life out of you. So since then, he has never let you live it down. You didn’t even hesitate in your response to him.

“I hope you’re looking forward to seeing me on the top step of the podium, Princess Max.” The glare he shot you was almost instantaneous as Charles started laughing, obviously having understood the reference.

“Right, just for that, I'm taking you out of the race on turn one.” You recognised that teasing tone in his voice, feeling your stomach flutter a little at that beautiful, happy tone that you had missed being directed at you. But you shook it off. ‘He wasn't meant to be, remember?’ you told yourself as the conference continued.

The moment you got out of the press conference, the atmosphere changed. Max walked straight past you, not even daring to look at you. You and Max still rarely talked. Since the start of 2024 you had become more civil, but you were nowhere near friends.

Max slumped down onto the seat in his driver's room. He ran his hand through his hair, sighing. Fuck. He heard the door open and shut and, moments later, felt a presence on the space beside him on the couch. “Go on, then. What’s up?”

He raised his head to the man, looking at the seriousness all across his face. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Max. I was your teammate for like 2 years. I saw the way you loved her and I saw the mess after you broke up. I also just watched that press conference. Start speaking.” Daniel was persistent, to be fair to him. But he also had a point. Over the years, Daniel had heard a lot about how he felt but he never talked about you to him.

“I regret it. Basically every day. It’s not left my mind since I listened to her song.”

“Still? Max, it’s been 6 years since you broke up with her. Also, YOU broke up with HER. Why would you do that if you didn’t want to?”

Max sighed, the memories of his prior conversation coming back to him.

[November 2018]

“You need to break up with her.” The seven words he had always dreaded hearing. Never in a million years would he ever consider breaking up with you. You were his muse, his soulmate. You were the person he wanted to marry, the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. It was funny, the words that left the man in front of him’s mouth. He knew he had a long shot of ever getting him to do that.

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She’ll just distract you, Max!” Jos’ voice was already doing Max’s head in and he had only said 12 words so far. ‘What happened to hello, how are you?’ He thought, rolling his eyes at the poor excuse that he spilled.

“As if she had ever distracted me before. Seriously, dad. We have been karting and racing together for years, for our entire relationship, and nothing will change now that we are in the same team.”

And that’s how it became an argument. The pair were shouting at each other. And then the bomb dropped. Jos handed Max a photo, making a comment about how he wouldn’t want it to be leaked. Max looked at the photo, his stomach instantly turning with disgust as he realised the photo that his father had managed to get ahold of and was now using it to threaten him, attempting to get him to break up with you, his person, because he wasn’t a fan of you. Jos never had liked you. Whilst being with you, you had helped Max realise that Jos was not a good person by any means, and Jos didn’t like that. As if on queue, your head poked around the door, quickly apologising when you realised that Jos was there. Jos smiled at you, before speaking. “No problem, I was just leaving. Think about what I said, Max.”

—

“What a dick,” Daniel declared, having taken a few moments to process what Max had just explained.

“Daniel, I miss her so much.”

“I know, mate. I know.” Daniel paused his speaking for a minute, attempting to come up with some kind of recommendation. He was fully aware that Max couldn’t express how he felt in person, so he came up with an idea. “Maybe write her a letter. She likes displays of affection like that.”

Race Day.

Crossing the line was the happiest you had been in a while. The race was excellent. For most of the race, Max and you had been fighting for P1 until he barely managed to get out of your DRS range. He ended up being a good few seconds ahead with 10 laps remaining. You didn't let that get to you, though, opting to keep pushing to the very last lap. And you did, getting closer and closer. However, you would've been perfectly happy if Max won. You both put up a brilliant fight and the drive against him was superb. But then you saw your golden opportunity. You overtook him, riskily but safely and fairly, regaining the lead of the race. Final lap. You heard the radio sound, being disappointed when Christian could be heard through it. “Give Max back the position, please.”

“Why should I?” You were pissed. Once again, they were attempting to strip you of everything you had worked hard for, everything that you wanted and dreamed of. Everything that you and Max talked about when you were kids. One day, he would say, one day we'll both be world champions, driving for Red Bull together and happily in love. Well, that last part didn't happen but you weren't about to give up on that.

“Max has worked so hard for this.”

“Fuck off, Christian, so have I.”

He said your name with venom, chuckling as he spoke. “We have a meeting to sign your contract extension tomorrow, remember. You've got to respect what your boss says if you want to keep driving.”

You scoffed as you crossed the finish line. No congratulations from Christian, a congratulations from your amazing race engineer, of course, but he was quickly shushed by Christian. You knew at least Crofty and Martin would be cheering in that commentary box, likely would be referring to it as the most interesting race since Abu Dhabi 2021 or Bahrain 2022.

Getting out of the car, you saw the red bull team. But they weren't cheering for you, they were cheering for Max. You hugged your engineer, excitedly celebrating your first world championship. The one you had worked so hard for day in and day out. You then rushed to hug a bunch of the drivers who were there, starting with Fernando who finished P3 in the race, as well as the championship. Then you went to them all, starting with Lewis, then Charles and Carlos, then Yuki, then Logan and so on. And then you saw Max. He walked to you, giving you a congratulatory hug. You hugged back, your arms going around his waist. You felt his hands move around your shoulders to your neck, confusion filling you as you pulled away from the hug, noticing the Dutch flag wrapped around your shoulders. “If I won, I was going to wear it to the podium. But this time, it's your turn. Congratulations.”

The post race interview started with Fernando, then only Max. When he was asked about how he felt about losing to you, he, too, referenced your childhood. “On the 14th of February 2012, she asked me what my dream was. I told her that it was for us to both make it to F1. For us to both be world champions, driving in the same team. Together. And a couple other things. Whilst we didn't get those other things, I'm happy that we have finally achieved most of our dreams.” It then went onto you.

Jenson asked about the race, congratulated you, the normal stuff. He then brought up the request from Horner about letting Max win. He smiled softly, signalling for you to speak as much as you wanted. “To be quite honest, Jens, I think it was a stupid team order. For them to assume that I would willingly give up a championship to give it to someone else is insane. I’ve been listening to his orders for years, letting Max through most of the time I was asked. However, when I don't, all I would receive is a lecture. ‘You should’ve listened to us’ he would say. ‘You didn’t deserve that win, you are lucky you are even driving for us, don’t push your luck.’” Your eyes scanned the crowd as you spoke. Disgust about Christian’s actions was over all the driver’s faces. Including Max, who was clearly surprised. Christian, on the other hand, looked as white as a ghost. You continued speaking.

“However, I am not, by any means, upset with Max. I know that none of this was his fault. It was Christian’s,” you said, pausing to take a breath before saying the next thing. This whole year had built up to this moment. “Which is why I am incredibly happy to announce that the contract renewal meeting will not be necessary, because I will be driving for Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team in the 2025 season.” You glanced over to Lewis who had grinned at you, winking, having already known the news. You took this opportunity to lightly tease him about his inability to say the team name. “See, Lew? It’s not that difficult to remember the name.”

“So… Mercedes, huh?”

“Yes, Max. Mercedes. You won’t miss me too much when I’m gone, no?”

He chuckled, sitting on your couch as you packed your stuff up. “Maybe I will, maybe I won’t. Are you going to the Red Bull Team Party later?”

“I wasn’t invited. Never have been.”

“Really?” He watched you nod. “Well, come anyway. Be my plus one, show them who’s the boss.” He stood up, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry they favoured me. I never rewatched the races so I never saw the radio. I truly am sorry.”

“Max, it wasn’t your fault. I’ll think about your offer, I need to go.”

“Wait.” He reached in his pocket, pulling out some paper. “Read that when you get to the hotel, please.”

—

Y/N,

You’ll have to bear with me, I will try my best not to waffle too much. I struggle to express how I feel through words, so Daniel suggested a letter.

When I think back to 2018, I realised that I never gave you a proper explanation on why I broke up with you. It was not a choice which I wanted to make. If given the choice, I would’ve chose the opposite, however, given the situation, the choice was obvious.

My father threatened me with a photo. I know what you’re thinking. “Why would a photo give you a reason to break up with me?” Jos managed to get a hold of an inappropriate photo of you, one which he threatened to release if I stayed with you. Believe me, if the opportunity was there, we would still be dating now. However, I couldn’t do this to you. I couldn’t let your reputation in the F1 community get destroyed because I decided to be selfish and stay with you. I hope I can be forgiven for this. I loved your song. It might’ve been the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

I know that our break up was irreparable. I handled it way worse than I should have. However, I again have reason for this. I feared that, if I wasn’t harsh, you would’ve been determined to keep us working. And I have a soft spot for you, I always have done. I would do anything for you in a heartbeat.

I know I never said it when we were together, and I know that I should have, but I love you more than I have ever loved anyone before. I have since the day we met to the current day. I’m planning to give this letter to you the day of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, after the race, but it was written before. I hope you know that, no matter what, even if you win the championship, nothing will ever stop me feeling devoted to you. You are my life, my soul, my person. I will love you until the day I take my last breath.

I know we may never be able to repair what we had, but maybe we could just be friends? If so, my number is *** *** *** ***, please message me, schat.

Forever yours,

Maxie xx

You messaged him. Of course you did. Deep down, you missed him. He was your person. You were happy he at least wanted to be friends. Sure, he absolutely was a soulmate who wasn't meant to be, but maybe you could at least talk a little more now.

youruser

📍 Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi

liked by maxverstappen1 and others

youruser: and with that, the 2024 season comes to an end. It's been a pleasure, glad to finally have a Championship under my belt x

tagged: maxverstappen1, fernandoalo_oficial, georgerussell63

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maxverstappen1: Been a pleasure driving with you. Can't wait to have you as proper competition next year x

youruser: It's been a great 6 years, Max. x

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youruser

liked by georgerussell63 and others

youruser: My time at Red Bull Racing has come to an end. This decision was not one I took lightly, however, it took little to no consideration to make this decision. The treatment that I received from Red Bull Racing over the years and, more specifically, Christian Horner, has been one I would not wish upon any driver. That being said, Max, you have been a wonderful teammate. Can't wait to beat you again next year, just in a Mercedes this time. Goodbye Oracle Red Bull Racing, hello Mercedes AMG Petronas Formula One Team. (P.s. Christian, I am bringing my race engineer with me xoxo)

tagged: georgerussell63, maxverstappen1, mercedesamgf1

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georgerussell63: Can't wait to be your teammate!!

youruser: so hyped!!

maxverstappen1: Humble yourself, I'll be back to winning the wdc next year

youruser: lmaoooo you wish

mercedesamgf1: What's 4+4??

youruser: ATEEEE

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liked by youruser and others

f1: bet you didn't expect this abu dhabi plot twist!! Our World Champ moves to Mercedes for 2025!!

-comments off-

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maxverstappen1 posted an instagram story!

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twitter

-The End-

-Word Count: 2,483 (not incl. social media comments)-

Hi All, I got asked to write a part two so here we go x Sorry if this was bad, it's unedited and it's also currently 1.40am for me. Goodnight everyone, have a good day! Alocon

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starieq · 19 days

Text

“Lovin her seems tiring..” Part 2

Taggies/ warnings; Pro!HeroKats, cheating, fingering, creampie, blowjob, ridding, cumming, squirting, swearing, mention of sex toys, dirty talk, titty fuck, drinking, drunk messaging, dry humping.

part 3!

After that crazy call with your boss, you went right into making reservations so you don’t get yelled at the next week of work.

Wait. Is his girlfriend coming? Should you call and ask? Would he be mad? Do you reserve two rooms? One for you, and one for him? Of course you would! Why wouldn’t you? Don’t make this weird y/n.

You had a lot of what if’s. But, you wanted to be brave and call your hot headed hot boss.

ring, ring, ring.

“The hell ya want now? Thought i made myself fuckin clear.” He grumbles into the phone.

“U-uh,” you stutter. “S-so, is uhm, Kira coming like she usually d-does, or..-“

“No. Just make two rooms. One for you and me.”

“Okay! Thank you for letting me know. B-but i do have a question Mr. Dynamight.”

“Lay it on me.” He says calmly? Wow, you’ve never heard him so calm before.

“So, why I’m I coming..?” You ask a little scared.

“Need ya to come with me cause you’re my damn assistant and you should do as I say. See ya next week y/n.”

He hangs up. God, his voice was so sexy. You couldn’t get enough of it. At least his bitch of a “girlfriend” isn’t coming.

You go to work the next week after your short weekend. You get packed to go to Tokyo, and you plan to maybe go to Tokyo Disneyland since it’s not like your gonna be on patrol with him, right?

Right?

You make your way to the bus station to get to the Dynamight agency. It was snowing and a horrible day to wear a white high waist mini skirt with a cute flower cardigan. At least you have a snow jacket and shoes in the office.

You pay for your ticket and get on the bus. The bus station was pretty packed, you cant be late today. You decided to go on your phone to see the news, until you get a text from your boss.

:Dynamight🧡💥: I need ya to get to the fuckin office now. Go to my office when you’re here.

:y/n: sorry! Bus station is a little full today. I’ll get there as fast as I can! :D

You see the Dynamight agency and run out the bus as fast as you could. You knew Bakugo was a hot head and the last person you wanna piss off. It was kinda hard to run in the thick snow with uggs on, but you couldn’t care less. You NEEDED to get to your boss.

You open the large doors and greeted the front lady that at gives you little candies.

“Thank you Mrs. Hellen!” You wave goodbye and pop the candy in your mouth. You get to the elevator and press floor 8. As you get on, you notice you have a big whole in your tights. Fuck. Those were new too! Damnit.

You gracefully walk to Bakugo’s office and hear grunting on the other side of the door.

You knock on the door and you hear Bakugo startle and race to get up. You’re not sure what he was doing, but your little dirty mind thinks something else.

“What-“ he looks down at you. “Get in here,” He pulls your wrist inside his office.

“Good morning to you too, Mr. Dynamight.” You give him a warm smile and he falls back on his chair.

You notice his face is a little red and his cheeks are slightly puffed. You couldn’t help but also noticed a bulge in his hero cargo pants.

“Ay, eyes up here sweetheart.” He says with a a smug smirk.

“O-oh sorry. I was just thinking about my uh, hole in my tights.” You said. Nice save, you think to yourself.

“Uh huh.” He says turning his chair so the back faces you.

“So Mr. Dynamight-“

“We’re leaving tonight, did ya pack your shit?” You noticed he clenched his jaw when he span his chair to face you again.

“Yeah.. uhm, are you going to pick me up or-“

“Yeah. Text me your address when I leave.”

“Ok.. thank you for your time.” You spin on your heel to leave. You opened the door and took slow steps.

Well, guess you should start working.

@bakugounextswife

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bingwriterxo · 10 months

Text

the shakespeare exhibit - part 6

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: in which you invite tara over for dinner

warnings: smut, 18+ (minors DNI), fingering, cunnilingus

word count: 3600+

author's note: one of the longest pieces i've ever posted...

previous part | next part

Chad (4:10pm): wtm tn bois

Mindy (4:11pm): movie night @ t's place?

Anika (4:11pm): down

Ethan (4:12pm): sounds good! i'll bring snacks! :D

Tara (4:12pm): yea just invite urselves over why dont u

Tara looked up from her phone, glaring at Mindy from across the living room. "Who says I'm free tonight?"

Mindy scoffed. "Please. We all know Y/N has been visiting her parents this weekend because you won't stop whining about how much you miss her, and who else do you hang out with?"

"I do not whine!" Right? Tara thought. Right. "And I have other friends!"

"Oh yeah?" Mindy raised an eyebrow. "Who? Name them right now."

"Uh..." Tara furrowed her eyebrows. Does Sam count? "Oh! Quinn, obviously."

"She doesn't count! She's friends with all of us!" Mindy chuckled, shaking her head. "Face it, T--you've got us and you've got Y/N, and with Y/N gone, we all know you're not doing jack shit tonight."

Tara huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I fucking hate you."

"Don't hate the player," Mindy said, holding her hands up in surrender. "Hate the game."

"Oh, I'll hate the player, because the player's a pain in my ass--" The rapid vibrating of her phone cut her off and she glanced down, eyes widening at your contact name showing on her screen. She scrambled to pick it up, nearly declining the call as she held it to her ear. "Hey, baby!"

Mindy pretended to gag herself with her finger at Tara's words, and the brunette flipped her off.

"Hi, Tar," you said, and Tara could hear your smile. "What're you up to?"

"Just hanging out with the biggest pain in my ass."

You giggled. Tara grinned at the sound. "Say 'hi' to Mindy for me, then."

"Definitely won't do that."

There was some shuffling before you asked, "What're you doing tonight?"

Tara hummed. "Tonight? Oh, nothing important." She stuck her tongue out at Mindy, who gave her middle fingers with both of her hands. "Why?"

"I'm back early from my parents' house. Nate and Eddie were way too much for me to handle this weekend." You chuckled. "Nate's got the lead role in the school play, and you'll never guess what they're doing."

"Some sort of Shakespeare?" she asked, knowing of your younger brother's own love for the playwright.

"Yup! They're making it PG-rated, obviously, but he's running around only talking in Early Modern English and I just couldn't take it anymore." God help me on the day that I meet this kid, Tara thought. "And then Eddie, well, he's going fucking insane from it, so he was off the walls, and--" You sighed. "That's not what I was calling for."

She laughed. "What's up, then?"

"Do you want to come over tonight? I can cook your favorite!" Tara was barely given the chance to respond when you added, "And I miss you."

This fucking girl. She blushed, turning her face so that Mindy couldn't see."I miss you, too, babe. And yeah, I'll come over tonight."

Mindy whipped her head toward her. "What about movie night?"

Tara waved her off, but you had overheard the other girl. "Oh, if you're busy tonight, then--"

"No!" Tara exclaimed. Stupid Mindy. Trying to ruin my plans. "No, it's fine. There will be other movie nights."

"We could just have dinner tomorrow night, baby," you said. "I don't want to pull you away from your friends."

She shook her head even though you couldn't see it. "They'll be okay without me for one night. When should I come?"

There was a pause. Tara guessed that you were looking at the time. "Is seven o'clock good? I just need to run and grab some things first, and shower, because I'm kind of greasy." There was a little shuffling. "I don't know what it is about those boys, but every time I come back from my parents' place, I'm always, like, gross."

Tara giggled. "Seven's perfect. I'll see you then."

"Okay, cool! Bye, Tar."

"Bye, babe." I love you, she thought, but she didn't dare say it. I can't. It's too soon.

Her phone clicked as you hung up, and she pulled it away from her ear, turning to Mindy. "I won't be here tonight."

Mindy stared at her like she was stupid. "Yeah. I got that. Can we still use your apartment for movie night, though? I don't even want to try fitting everyone on my bed again."

Tara rolled her eyes. "Sure. I think Sam's staying at Danny's tonight, so just don't wreck the place."

Mindy hummed. "Hey, have you guys said 'I love you' yet?"

Tara blushed, warmth rising from her collarbones to her ears. "No."

"Do you want to?"

So badly, Tara wanted to say. "What's with all the questions?" she asked instead.

Mindy shrugged. "I'm just wondering. I mean, you told her about what happened last year, right?" Tara nodded. "And she responded well, right?" Another nod. "Why haven't you said it yet?"

"Have you ever thought about the fact that I might not love her yet?" Lie. Lie. Lie!

Mindy scoffed. "Don't lie to me. Everyone sees how you act around her, and how you look at her, and we all hear how you talk about her, and--"

"Shut up."

"So, why haven't you said it?"

Tara sighed. "We've barely been dating a month, Minds." Though it's already felt like a lifetime.

"Okay, and...?" Mindy cocked her head. "Anika and I were dating for, like, two weeks when we said it." She stood from the armchair and moved onto the couch, laying Tara's feet over her lap. "Y/N already knows everything about you--or, at least, you know, the stuff that might scare someone away--and she's still here. Don't you think that means she probably loves you back?"

"You're not who I want to be having this conversation with," Tara grumbled.

"First of all, rude. Secondly, would you rather Chad? Or maybe Sam, or Quinn, or--"

Tara threw her arms out. "Okay! I get it. You're the most plausible one to talk to about this." She covered her face with her hands, groaning. "I just--I don't want to freak her out." She looked at Mindy. "I mean, she's dated people, but she's never really been in a serious relationship like this, and I don't want to rush her."

Mindy furrowed her eyebrows. "She got you for her first girlfriend? Poor sucker."

I hate her. I really do. "This is why I don't want to talk to you about this!"

"Sorry, sorry," Mindy rushed out, patting Tara's ankles. "I'll be nice. Do you think there's any other reason you might not be ready to tell her?"

"Like what?"

"Like...Amber?"

Tara clenched her jaw and shook her head. No, she thought. No, definitely not. "Mindy--"

"I'm just saying." Mindy shrugged. "Amber was your best friend, and she's the first girl you ever fell in love with. She may have been a psychopathic murderer, but that's not someone who's easy to get over. Could you...still love her?"

"No." Tara shut her eyes, hard. "No, I don't still love Amber." Her voice was shaking; she could feel the tears behind her eyelids just from talking about the girl. "I miss her, sometimes, and then I remember that she literally tried to kill me." Her eyes shot open and she gestured to Mindy. "She tried to kill you, too."

"I know, T, but--"

Tara shook her head. "There are no 'buts'. I don't love Amber anymore." I only love Y/N. Her heart fluttered at the mere thought of you.

Mindy narrowed her eyes. "So, it really is just the time?"

"Yeah," Tara said. "I'm gonna wait until I know she's ready."

"You're so whipped, dude." Mindy grinned.

"You're the worst."

* * *

"Hey, Carmine," Tara greeted as she walked up to your doorman. She had become friendly with the man over the past few weeks, since, more often than not, the two of you hung out at your place rather than hers.

"Miss Carpenter," he said, nodding. "Miss Y/L/N ran through here about an hour ago looking a bit...disheveled."

Tara chuckled. "Yeah, well, you know our girl."

He hummed and gestured toward the door. "After you."

"I'll see you on my way out," she said, lamely saluting him. Why the fuck did I just do that? she thought. However, he quelled her anxieties quickly as he saluted back to her before turning away, his attention focused on some random man walking up to the door. Okay, Carmine. You're officially cool.

Tara made her way into the building and up to your apartment, knocking on your front door when she finally arrived. She patted down her hair and straightened out her clothes, making sure she looked perfectly presentable, and beamed up at you when the door opened.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as she looked at you. You were wearing a sheer, white button down, your black bralette visible beneath it, and your pants were...well, they hugged you nicely. Girlfriend looks hot. Might explode. "I didn't realize we were dressing nice," she said, gulping.

You glanced down at yourself with a blush before looking back at her with a shy smile. "Just thought it might be fun," you mumbled.

She nodded. "You look..." Pretty. Say pretty. "Hot." Damn it, Tara. You're too gay for this bullshit.

"Thanks." You opened the door wider. Tara stepped inside, giving you a quick kiss. "You're not too bad yourself," you said, grinning.

Tara, for as much as she wanted to say she knew you, had not been expecting what you had set up inside your apartment. The lights were dimmed, there were rose petals on the floor, and the table was set with a candelabra in the middle (which she knew you had never used before because it was centuries old).

She turned to look at you. "I--You--What?"

"I originally wanted to take you out to a nice restaurant tonight, but I couldn't get a reservation anywhere." You shrugged and gestured to the room. "So, I had to make do."

"It's not an important date, is it?" No, not our one month. It's November, so it's not Valentine's day.

You shook your head. "No. I just wanted to do something a little more special tonight." You bit your lip. "Is it okay? I mean, I could turn on the lights and vacuum up the petals, and we could just order pizza or something if you wan--"

"It's perfect." She's perfect, Tara thought. Absolutely perfect in every way, and I love her.

You sighed with relief. "Oh, good, because the rose petals were kind of expensive." You placed your hand on the small of her back and led her to the table, pulling out her seat for her. "Sit. I'll get the food."

Is this real life? Did she actually set up a romantic dinner and is now bringing me food? This is--I'm dreaming, aren't I? Tara blinked as though to wake herself up, but she was still in your kitchen when she opened her eyes. Nope, not a dream. How did I get someone so perfect?

You returned with two plates of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. You placed a plate down in front of Tara and one in front of your own seat before waving the bottle at her.

"My parents sent me two bottles of that '61 Merlot I gave Sam, so I thought we could have it tonight," you said, pouring her a glass. You stopped suddenly, freezing. "Wait, do you like wine? I have, uh, water, too, if that's better?"

Tara chuckled. "Wine's fine. Thank you, baby."You nodded and continued to pour before giving yourself a glass as well. You set the wine down next to the candelabra and then sat, smiling at her.

"I hope you like it," you said, pointing at the food. "I'm not the best cook. We grew up with private chefs, so neither of my parents taught me to cook, either, but I tried my best, and--"

Tara ate a mouthful of the pasta you had set in front of her, and her taste buds exploded. Her eyes widened as she moaned at the taste, and you gulped, watching her. "This is amazing!" she said, her voice somewhat muffled from the food. "Holy shit, Y/N." She can cook! Thank god, 'cause I'm horrible at it.

"Really? Oh, perfect. I was nervous I'd actually have to end up just ordering us a pizza," you said, starting to eat.

Tara hummed and reached for her glass. "You need to teach me how you did this one day."

You nodded. "Sure! Any time. It was pretty easy, actually."

She took a sip of the wine, smiling at the taste of it. Jesus, I can tell this was expensive. "This is also amazing. Thank your parents for me, would you?"

"Sure, Tar." You grinned. "They asked about you, actually."

What. "Oh?" No fucking way.

"They wanted to know if you were also into literature like I am, to which I said no, of course, and I think my mom was actually a bit happy to hear it." You chuckled. "The literature comes from my dad's side, mainly. She's...not stoked about it."

"I think your mom and I are going to get along great, then," Tara giggled.

"They wanted to know when they could meet you, actually," you said, glancing up at her sheepishly. Her eyes widened. "I know we haven't been dating long, but they want to meet the woman that has their daughter 'so captivated', as my dad put it."

"Captivated, huh? I'm sure they meant they want to meet whoever turned their daughter into such a simp," she teased.

You glanced down, blushing. "We're not starting this tonight."

"If you would just admit you're a simp for me, then I'd never bring it up again." Her voice was soft as she stared at you. She looks so pretty in the candlelight.

"I'll never admit that, since it's just not true," you said, looking up. "But I will admit that...I'm in love with you."

A shiver ran through Tara at your words, butterflies stirring in her stomach. She loves me, she thought. She loves me back. "I--"

"You don't have to say it back," you started. "I know it's kind of soon, but I just...I wanted to say it." You inhaled deeply. "I love you, Tara."

Say it, you idiot. Say it. "Y/N," she breathed out. She stood and crossed the length of the table, pulling your seat out from beneath it so that she could stand in front of you. She grinned down at you. "I love you, too."

Tara leaned down and kissed you with as much passion as she could. She tried to pour every ounce of what she felt for you into the kiss, and she smiled against your lips when you stood up, never breaking contact once. You wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her into you.

"You love me," you said when you pulled back just enough to speak, your breath brushing over her lips.

"I do." I really do. More than you know. Her hands found the back of your neck as she leaned up to kiss you again, her tongue swiping over your bottom lip. Your hold on her tightened. She never wanted you to let go.

You whispered, "Is this...I mean, should we--"

"Bedroom?" Tara asked. You nodded slowly. "Yes, please."

You giggled as you took Tara's hand, leading her to your bedroom. There was nothing fancy happening there--no rose petals or candles or dimmed lights--but she didn't care. She liked knowing that you hadn't planned to sleep with her, that you were doing all of this simply because you loved her.

She shut the door behind her as you sat on your bed, waiting patiently. Perfect. Painstakingly perfect. She climbed onto your lap, straddling your legs, and kissed you again. This time, it was less slow and calculated; it was filled with more want, with more lust.

You nipped at her bottom lip, and she whimpered, her hips rising a little and brushing against you. You grinned, hands slipping beneath her shirt and holding her by the waist, your thumbs rubbing over her bare skin.

She shivered, pulling away. "You're--This all okay, right?" she asked. You nodded, and she leaned in to kiss you again before pausing, her eyes catching on something across the room. You furrowed your eyebrows at her, turning around to see what she was looking at. "Sorry. I need to..."

Tara stood and crossed the room, turning the statue bust of Shakespeare around so that he was facing the corner. Much better, she thought. I don't need Mr. Shakespeare watching me have sex.

"Oh," you said, laughing. "I didn't realize he'd bother you."

She frowned as she walked back to you, settling in your lap again, your hands retaking the position they had. "I didn't want him watching."

"I'm sure Shakespeare has seen worse things."

"Oh, shush. You're making me feel silly now."

You leaned up and kissed her. "It's a little silly."

"Whatever." She pressed her lips against yours again, silencing your teasing. Her tongue ran over your bottom lip and you gasped, allowing her the entry she so desperately desired.

You kissed for a moment more before she was dipping down, her lips dancing across your jawline, up to the little spot below your ear, and then down your neck. Her mouth was hot and warm against your skin, leaving you whining beneath her. I can do better than whines, she thought as she nipped at your pulse point. You moaned, your hand flying to her scalp when she sucked against the skin, sure to leave a pretty mark.

Her hands busied themselves with the buttons of your shirt, fingers fumbling in her haste. Stupid buttons. I hate buttons. Why do buttons even exist-- Your shirt fell open and she pulled back, gulping at the sight of you.

You were breathing heavily, your hair was mussed, the hickey on your neck was a magnificent red, and you were staring at her with half-lidded eyes.

"Jesus, you're beautiful," Tara mumbled. You turned pink at her words, looking away shyly. She cupped your jaw and softly pushed your head back to look at her. "Really, Y/N. You are."

"Thank you, baby," you said.

How can she be so cute yet so hot at the same time? Tara took your shirt off, leaving you in just your bralette, and pushed at your chest lightly. You laid back, your head on your pillows as you looked up at her, watching, waiting.

She leaned down, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the skin of your chest, and giggled when she felt your hips buck up. "Impatient," she muttered.

"Leave me alone," you grumbled above her.

She climbed off you, fingers working at the button of your pants. "Next time we do this, can you just wear a t-shirt and sweats? It'll make things a lot easier for me," she joked.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Next time?"

Tara huffed, the button finally coming undone, and she helped you out of your pants, pulling your underwear down with them. "Yes. Next time." She threw your pants somewhere behind her and hovered over you. "Unless you find me to be...unsatisfactory," she whispered, voice low.

You gulped. "M'sure that won't be the case."

She kissed you again before moving downward, planting kisses along your skin and creating marks on the plane of your stomach, until she settled between your legs. "You're dripping," she breathed out, and you whimpered at the air against you.

"Please, Tar," you whined, hips bucking ever so slightly. "Need you, baby."

She nodded, dipping down and licking a stripe through your folds, groaning at your taste. You moaned, the sound raw as it left your mouth, and Tara grinned. Beautiful, she thought as her tongue continued to explore you. Sounds so pretty.

She wrapped her lips around your clit, and she swore that the noise you made was the closest to heaven she'd ever get. She sucked lightly, then a little harder when your hand gripped her hair, pushing her against you.

"Fuck, Tar," you groaned. "Feels so good, baby."

She brought her hand up, slipped a finger into you, and hummed at the feel of your walls tight around her. Her tongue kept circling your clit, lips sucking at it, as she thrusted into you gently.

It didn't take long until you were writhing beneath her, the only sounds coming out of your mouth being broken moans and whines of her name.

"M'gonna cum," you whimpered.

Fuck yeah. She sucked harder, and you fell over the edge, crying out her name as your walls squeezed her. Your back arched, Tara following the curve with her eyes, before you lamely pushed at her shoulders. She pulled away and climbed up your body, grinning at the sight of your flushed face and closed eyes before kissing you softly.

"How was that?" she asked.

"Embarrassingly quick," you said, opening your eyes to look at her.

She giggled. "I'm good at what I do."

You hummed, hands finding her waist and flipping the two of you over. "Now let me show you that I'm good at what I do."

It was a whirlwind of color as you undressed her, and Tara barely got a word out before your lips were around her nipple, sucking at the hardened bud. She gasped, your mouth wet on her, and felt your fingers at her entrance.

"You thought I was dripping?" you teased.

"Shut up--" She moaned as you slipped a finger into her. Fuck, she thought. Long fingers.

You kissed her, lips pushed against her hard, before dipping down to her neck, sucking and kissing and licking while your finger worked at her, your thumb circling her clit.

Her mind was hazy and focused only on the way your finger curled against her just right. You slipped another one in, and she swore she saw stars.

Jesus, already? she thought briefly at the feeling of a pleasant knot tightening in her stomach. You mumbled something against her neck, but she wasn't paying any attention.

It only took one, two, three more thrusts before she was unraveling beneath you, a shuddering breath pushing past her lips as she came. You worked her through her orgasm, slipping out when she came down, and she pulled you into her, kissing you gently.

"I love you," you whispered.

She grinned. "I love you, too."

A moment passed before you asked, "Do you think I could turn my Shakespeare back around now?"

She's dead serious, isn't she? Tara rolled her eyes lightly and kissed you between your eyebrows. "Let me put my clothes back on."

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara x reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #jenna x reader #scream 5 #scream 6 #museum tara

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steddiecameraroll · 11 months

Text

It Takes a Muscle to Fall In Love - Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Eddie runs his hands through his hair in frustration.

He’s anxiously pacing around his bedroom, questioning every life choice he’s ever made.

“You ok, boy?” Wayne pops his head into Eddie’s doorway.

“I fucked up. I fucked up soooooo bad. He’s never gonna talk to me again. Why did I do that? I’m such an idiot.”

Wayne saunters into Eddie’s room and sits on the edge of his mattress. He pats the space beside him, motioning for Eddie to join him.

“What happened?”

Eddie huffs and sits next to Wayne before falling back on the mattress, his hair flopping around him. “Steve. I lied to Steve. Perfect, gorgeous, beautiful, Steve. I’m an idiot.” Eddie covers his eyes with his arm and groans. “I just…he’s so perfect, and I didn’t think there was any way…what do I do, Wayne?”

“What was the lie?”

“That I had a date this weekend.”

“Wasn’t your D&D thing this weekend?”

“Yeeeesss,” Eddie kicks his legs like a frustrated toddler. “I’m an idiot. I didn’t think it through. I just didn’t want him to regret what happened and not make him nervous or freak out or whatever. I didn’t think about it. I just said it to take the pressure off us, off of him.”

“Did somethin’ happen between you two?”

“Yeah…” Eddie trails off, remembering the feel of Steve’s body against his. “It was good…perfect. Best day of my life, and I fucked it up.” He chuckles with a lack of humor.

“Why’d you tell him you had a date if you didn’t and had such a nice time?”

“I was nervous. I didn’t want him to hate me. I thought he’d freak out and regret it.”

“Did he seem like he was upset?”

Eddie sat up, leaning back against his palms. “N-no, I didn’t want him to get upset, so preventative, more or less.”

“Had he made it clear you two were only friends? Didn’t want more?”

“No, not exactly. Steve’s never…I was…He doesn’t want that.” Wayne has always supported Eddie but doesn’t want to cross a line for Steve and share too much.

“I’ve seen you two together. Has he said that outright? Or are you making decisions for the boy?”

“No…it’s just…” Eddie sits up and leans his elbows on his knees.

“You two should talk. And stop making assumptions and let him tell you what he wants.” Wayne lays his palm against Eddie’s upper back and rubs in comforting circles.

“I didn’t want to lose him,” Eddie says quietly.

“And you won’t if you’re honest and talk to him, but if you keep trying to trick him, boy, you will.”

“Fuck, what if he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“I’m gonna guess he wants some answers. Sure, he’s probably mad, but he’s also probably confused. He doesn’t know why you did it, so who knows what he’s thinking instead.”

“Oh god,” Eddie lets his head fall, his hair shielding his face. “So stupid.”

“Well, I gotta head to work, but good luck, ok? We can talk tomorrow if you want.”

“Thanks. Hopefully, I won’t have a black eye the next time you see me.”

“You won’t.” Wayne gently pushes Eddie’s shoulder, then stands and heads out of the room.

Eddie falls back onto the mattress with a huff, dreading the idea of facing Steve.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @sunfloweringstories @solalasoforth @blackpanzy @gw3n-st4cy @starman-jpg @sofadofax @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @loguine-linguine @vampireinthesun @unclewaynemunson @saganarojanaolt @annoyinglyfanon @vacantwatchers @remuslupinisthevoiceofgod @coffeeshopau69 @bookbinderbitch @lemon-astra @koyislosinghismind @a-gae-af-racoon @booksareportal @zoeweee @rustypeopleskillz @foolishness-and-confusion @child-of-cthulhu @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @tinynebula @zelpharnorlee @novelnovella @theystoodandplayedwithsilence @n0-1-important @blisschaoss @ladygrimheart @nerdylocksandthethreebears @suddenlyinlove @shotgunhallelujah @verysadaveragegal @warlordess @bisexualdisastersworld @my2amgaythoughts @bookworm0690 @thesuninyaface @novacorpsrecruit @lolawonsstuff @angeldreamsoffanfic

#steddie #steddie fanfic #There's only 1 part left #They're FINALLY going to talk #and comfort #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #steddiecameraroll posts #my writing

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theemporium · 1 year

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secret relationship with regulus pls !!

If someone told you that you were going to fall in love with Regulus Black, you would’ve laughed in their face.

You knew about the Black family long before you went to Hogwarts, everyone in the Wizarding World did. The family was well-known for mostly wrong reasons and you had heard whispered rumours about just what sort of family they were. The things they did, the things they believed in. It was never a philosophy you ever thought you’d align yourself with.

When you enrolled in Hogwarts and were sorted into Gryffindor, it was shocking enough that you found yourself in a buddying friendship with one of the Black sons—though Sirius always was the anomaly, nothing quite like the rest of his family.

He spoke about his family quite a lot. He would tell you about the kinds of things they’d say, the way they would sneer at him when he went home for the holidays. And the stories he told you were enough to confirm that outside of Sirius, there was a fat fucking chance you’d be civil with any of the other Black family members if you knew better.

As it turns out, you clearly didn’t know better because by the time you reached 6th year, you somehow found yourself in a weird dynamic with none other than the younger Black brother.

What happened to be unfortunate circumstances that put you together (younger students trying to pull a marauders-esque prank gone wrong that somehow led to you both in detention), it ended up being for the greater good that you were forced to spend the next few weekends with Regulus because it gave him a chance to show you that he wasn’t like what others or even his brother assumed.

And whilst it took you a while to warm up to the younger Black and see past your prejudices, Regulus was quite the opposite. The boy was enamoured by you from the second he laid eyes on you and was honestly looking for any excuse he could to spend time near you. The detention just so happened to work out in his favour, and the rest was history.

Well, not really.

Because despite the fact Regulus—much like his brother—didn’t care about the Black morals and philosophy, he still didn’t want a target on your back. Things had been tense since Sirius practically ran away and tension was high in the house, pressure even more pressing on his shoulders. The last thing Regulus wanted was to drag you into the matter for his parents to use against him.

It was why, for now, he wanted to keep your relationship a secret even if it killed him to have to wait until you were hidden in the shadows to kiss you.

“What I would give to kiss you like this every day whenever I please,” Regulus whispered against your lips, lips drawn in a soft smile as he continued to peck your lips as you giggled against him.

“You’d be insatiable,” you muttered in faux annoyance but the thought made your heart swell nonetheless. “I would never get away from you.”

His hands tightened their grip on your waist. “Is that such a problem?”

“Hm, maybe I’m sick of you, Black,” you teased playfully, fingers playing with the messy black curls at the name of his neck.

“Yeah?” His voice was low and husky, breath fanning over your heated skin as he dipped down to press a feather-soft kiss on your pulse point. “It’s funny hearing you try to act all nonchalant when I know for a fact you’d let me ravish you on this sofa if I wanted, sweetheart.”

Your breath hitched. “And do you want to ravish me?”

“Hm,” the boy hummed, dark eyes glimmering with amusement and his lips twitching upwards as he pulled you towards him, destroying any distance between your bodies as you fell onto his lap. And his smirk only widened when you let out a soft gasp at the bulge in his trousers. “Take a fucking guess, sweetheart.”

“Guess you really missed me,” you breathed out with a small laugh, hooded eyes focused on the way he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Like a fucking hole in my chest,” he muttered before leaning forward to kiss you, hands holding you down on his lap as he made up for the lost time between your meetings.

And maybe, just maybe, one day you wouldn’t have to wait weeks in between your nights with him.

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devilfic · 4 months

Text

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby

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httpsuniverse · 10 months

Text

DRESS | JD14

wherein singer!y/n shocks her fans when she reveals her relationship with a person her fans obviously didn’t expect, f2 driver, jack doohan.

↳ TYPE: ig au

↳ PAIRING: jack doohan x singer!reader (face claim: aespa’s karina)

↳ DETAILS AND WARNINGS: fluff/romance

↳ AUTHOR’S NOTE: some drafts i’ve written/made, just needed to clean up the drafts. there’s more but i’ll edit them first before i post em! enjoy ❤️

this work is purely fictional. names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. © newuniverse, 2023. do not steal, repost in other platforms, translate and/or claim this work as your own.

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig and 1,874,737 others

yourusername last moments with my black hair 🥹 any guesses which color i’m choosing? (it’s my first time dyeing my hair i’m nervous 😓)

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yourbffsig i think you’ll look good without hair :D

yourusername i’m blocking you!! 🫵

yourbffsig KIDDING!! love youu 😌

yourusername love u 🙄

user omg queen!! what if you go blonde 🥺

user i can’t see her going blonde though, it’s a bad idea 😩 purple would look good!

user the day y/n dyes her hair is the day i go insane.

user no because she literally has one of the healthiest hair i’ve ever seen and now she’s planning on dyeing it 😭 what if the hairdresser sabotages her hair and she ends up bald

user GIRL WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THE POSSIBILITY OF HER GOING BALD IM CRYINGF

user maam what if you bleach your hair 😌

user STFU FONT GIVE HER IDEAS IM GONNA BAWL

57 weeks ago

jackdoohan

liked by danielricciardo, antoniogiovinazzi and others

jackdoohan happy to come away from the #spanishgp with a p2 and most importantly solid championship points, let’s keep it rolling into monaco next weekend! #f2

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user still can’t believe you cut off your hair 😭 i’m still mourning over it, jack.

user congrats mate! 👏🏻

user 🔥🔥

56 weeks ago

yn.updates

194,836 likes

yn.updates y/n seen today in barcelona with a bleached hair 🎀 sources said she came with her best friend to watch both f1 and f2 races!

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user sometimes i forget her best friend is literally a nepo baby, a fia nepo baby to be exact

user huh what

user yeah lol her dad’s one of the board of directors of fia! she was often seen in the paddock when she was young and i think she’s close with mick as there’re some pictures of them both in and out of the paddock!

user WHATTTTT

user WHERE TF IS THAT GIRL WHO SAID Y/N GOING BLONDE IS NOT A GOOD IDEA

user i apologize 😔

user ok but like whats the reason behind her bleaching her hair 🤨

56 weeks ago

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig, jackdoohan and 3,826,829 others

yourusername 22 coming your way 😉

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user WHAT.

user OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG Y/N ALBUM!!!!!!

user OOOOO SHE LOOKIN GOOD 👀

user WHAT THE FUCK IS JACK DOOHAN DOING IN HER LIKES !!!!

user it’s so random pls

user 😭 icb it’s a canon event lmfao

user i think it’s because they met(?) each other in barcelona! i think her bff introduced them to each other 😄

user why haven’t i heard that y/n went to the gp 😧 i was literally there

user she went there for a music video filming i think, she just went to the race during her break she said it during one of her ig lives hahaha

51 weeks ago

[ T I M E S K I P ; A YEAR LATER ]

yourusername

liked by yourbffsig, jackdoohan, mickschumacher and 1,839,938 others

yourusername it’s been a little over a year since 22 was released! as you all know, i’ve written my first full album last 2022 and it has a special place in my heart, as the title song tells the story about being young and carefree ❤️ thank you all so much for all the love you’ve given 22 ✨ as a thank you, i’ve released a new song titled DRESS, which is now available to all streaming platforms!

i’d like to express my deepest gratitude to my label, my manager, my friends, my family and last but not least, my muse–the reason behind this piece, jackdoohan 🤍 this is for you, my jacko!! happy anniversary to us, my racer <3

enjoy the surprise song, everyone! sending you all love, xo.

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user y/n??? jack??? what???

user WHY NOW WHEN I’M ALREADY COMFY IN BED!!!

user y/n, when was this???

user im so confused rn

user I AM IN CONFUSION, EXPLAIN, Y/N, EXPLAIN!!!!!

user can jack fight tho 🤨

user NOT ME LOSING Y/N TO JACK DOOHAN 💔💔

user this wasnt on my bingo card this year

yourbffsig congratulations lovie!! happy for you and jack 🥰 thank me yall hahaha happy anniversary and stay in love!! 🤍✨

— ❤️ by yourusername

mickschumacher loved the song, y/n!! happy for both of you 🤍

— ❤️ by yourusername

jackdoohan happy anniversary, angel 🤍 i love you and all the songs and poems you’ve written for me 😍

yourusername love you soooo much, jacko 💞

user SONGS?!?!?! THERE’S MORE?!?!?

yourusername will be released soon 🤫

user WHAT THE HECK!!!

jackdoohan

liked by yourusername, mickschumacher, danielricciardo and others

jackdoohan so amazed to see you on stage tonight, beautiful. you looked absolutely stunning and happy doing what you love. congratulations on your first concert, i love you ❤️

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yourusername crying!! you really surprised me when i saw you in the crowd 🥺 i almost didn’t finish the song and was thinking of running straight to you!!

yourusername the flowers are pretty btw!! 😍

jackdoohan just like you ;)

yourusername OH??

mickschumacher there are children on this app.

yourbffsig tell them to go away, let these two be in love!!

user oh idk which one i wanna be...do i wanna be jack or do i wanna be y/n

user he came right after his race yall, and on her concert’s first night. if he wants to, he would.

user damn it, when will i be in love... GOD I SEE WHAT YOU DO TO OTHERS ?! WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN !!

user the hand placement yall :( hand fucking placement!!!!

user jack is SOOOO in love 🥺

user “you looked absolutely stunning and happy doing what you love” haha guess who will sleep on the highway tonight haha

user you 🤝 me

#jack doohan imagine #jack doohan x reader #f2 imagine #f2 x reader #f2 instagram au #formula 2 imagine #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 x you #jack doohan x yn

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flowerfan2 · 1 year

Text

Eddie is different, afterwards. Dustin doesn’t understand why no one is doing anything about it. It’s like the spark has gone out of him, except with Eddie it wasn’t just a spark, it was fireworks, and now he’s like the old flashlight Dustin once found at the back of his closet that barely flickered.

When Eddie doesn’t even want to play D&D, Dustin tries talking about it with Will. He tells him he doesn’t know why Eddie can’t just snap out of it, and Will glares at him like he suggested raising another baby demodog. In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have made light of being trapped in the Upside Down with the only other guy he knows who went through the same thing.

Dustin knows Eddie’s gone through some shit, he does. But the truth is he misses him, misses his confident swagger, his disdain for people who are afraid to wave their freak flag high. He misses his big smile, and his crazy faces. He misses the way Eddie took care of his little lost sheep.

The government gave Eddie and Wayne a new trailer, but Dustin hasn’t seen it yet. Max spends as much time as she can with El or hanging out at the Wheeler’s, saying the trailer park still feels haunted to her. Dustin wonders what it’s like for Eddie, still being there every day, in the place he saw Chrissy die.

Dustin goes to summer camp again, and for a while he’s able to put it all out of his mind. Suzie is there, and being with her is awesome. For four weeks he tries to pretend that the insanity and terror of living in Hawkins is no big deal. But then he comes back home.

After a few days of riding around town on his bike and hanging out with the party, Dustin decides to organize a trip to the arcade. He tries to call Steve for a ride, but there’s no answer at his house, and when he goes to get the walkie Mike stops him, saying he thinks he’s busy. Dustin protests for a while, but finally gives up when El tells him that the Byers are having a barbeque that weekend and he’ll see Steve then.

Saturday dawns hot and bright, and Dustin puts on his favorite camp shirt and heads over to the Byers’ new house early. Joyce gives him a warm hug, like always, and he goofs around with Will until Jonathan forces them to help set up chairs in the backyard. People start arriving around lunchtime, but it isn’t until he’s eaten two ketchup-drenched hot dogs and an overcooked burger that he sees Steve arrive, Eddie trailing close behind him.

He wants to run over and give Eddie a giant hug, better even than the one Dustin got from Joyce, but Robin suddenly appears next to him and puts a hand on his arm to hold him back. “Let him ease into it,” she says softly. Dustin doesn’t know why Eddie would need to ease into hanging out with his friends, but something in Robin’s tone tells him not to argue.

Eventually Dustin decides enough is enough. He finds Eddie in the house, sitting next to Steve on the couch, talking softly with Hopper who is leaning against an armchair. They all swivel their heads towards him when he pokes his head in, and Hopper nods and leaves the room, grunting some kind of greeting at Dustin as he goes by.

“Hey, what’s up?” Steve says, and Dustin stumbles over both his feet and his words as he throws himself at the two of them. Steve catches him and holds him tight, and he feels Eddie wrap an arm around him too.

“I want everyone to be okay,” Dustin mumbles, feeling like an idiot but not able to really say anything else.

“We’re okay, dude, don’t worry,” Steve says. “I mean, Hopper’s grill skills could use some work, but generally speaking that’s not a big deal.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? You know that’s not what I mean.” Dustin pushes out of their hold and sits on the coffee table. He looks at Eddie, and then Steve, who exchange a weird glance, and then Eddie leans forward.

“I’m sorry, bud. It really wasn’t my year, I guess. But-” Eddie’s eyes flash over to Steve, who gives him a wry grin and knocks their knees together. “Things are looking up. I’m okay. Really.”

Dustin realizes that Eddie does seem better. He’s completely lost that gray haze. Even his hair looks better, bouncier, like Steve has been sharing his secrets. “Do you swear?” he asks, his throat tight.

Eddie laughs, and it makes something glad and joyful bubble up in Dustin’s chest. Steve looks happy about it too, and he grabs Eddie around his shoulders and pulls him close to his side, making Eddie laugh some more and then rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah, I swear.”

Dustin hears Nancy announcing something about ice pops, and he decides he better get out there before all the good flavors are taken. “All right. Fine. See you around?”

“For sure,” Eddie says, and it’s a little softer and quieter than maybe Eddie was before, but Dustin still feels that warmth inside him. Because the spark is back in Eddie’s eyes. It’s not quite fireworks yet, but it’s there, and it’s awesome.

#Stranger Things #Steddie #Steddie fic #Dustin Henderson #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Stranger Things fic #Steddie ficlet

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cozage · 8 months

Text

The Daughter's Return: Month 4

A Steamy Situation

Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

This idea was sent to me by Anonymous! CW: it gets a little steamy in some parts Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 3.3k

“You didn’t tell us the mission was at an onsen!” you whispered, your voice full of excitement.

“Because I knew you would pester me about getting here faster,” Marco griped. “Go check in. We can’t be seen together.”

You squealed in excitement and reached for Ace’s hand. This weekend was going to be so much more fun than you initially thought. You could already feel the air change, both you and Ace thinking of what the two of you could do.

“No,” Marco hissed, slapping your hand away. “You’ve got the solo room. Me and Ace have a business suite.”

Your mouth dropped as you stared at Marco, trying to fully understand his words. “Excuse me?”

“Go!” Marco said, pushing you towards the front door. “Remember your code name!”

But you weren’t ready to give up yet. “You take the single room!” you pouted. “Come on Marco, seriously? Just let me and Ace-”

“No.” Marco’s voice was low and serious, indicating his decision came from someone higher than him. And there was only one person higher than him. “We can’t be distracted. Distractions-”

“Mean death,” you grumbled, finishing his words for him. Your eyes flitted over to Ace, a silent message passing between you two: Find me tonight.

Your check-in went smoothly. You operated under the name Astrid Cleminson, but the man at the desk didn’t even ask for an ID.

Your only goal was to find the pirates who were rumored to be staying here; ones who had plans to attack an island under the Whitebeard Pirates' protection. Maybe if you found them today, Marco would swap rooms with you.

Your room only fueled your desire to share it with Ace. You had gotten a private onsen with your room and a beautiful patio with lush, green plants scattered throughout it. You wanted nothing more than to sit all evening in that hot spring with Ace, the two of you quietly enjoying each other’s company. But Marco had robbed that from you.

You quickly unpacked your things and went to find the communal female bath. Nobody there would know you had a private one in your room, and you needed to find these pirates as soon as possible so you could enjoy a bit of vacation away from the ship.

You stayed in there for an hour, desperately listening to all of the conversations around you, but if there were enemy pirates, they didn’t show their hand. You finally gave up and retreated back to your room.

Funnily enough, you were inserting your key just as your neighbor was inserting his. You turned your head to see who it was, and your eyes found your favorite freckled boy.

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Come here often?”

“Ace?” you whispered, looking up and down the hallway. “You guys are my neighbors?!”

“I guess Marco had it set up this way so it wouldn’t be obvious to any onlookers if we walked into each other’s rooms.”

“Wanna come into mine now?” You turned the door handle and raised your eyebrows at him, all but begging him to join you.

His eyes lit up and his smile became devious as he followed you into your room and quickly shut the door behind him.

Ace was on you in an instant, his lips pushed against yours in a hungry desperation. The two of you had been traveling with Marco for almost a week now and had hardly had a moment to yourselves. Even sleeping, Marco made you guys split up. It was almost annoying how much of a dad he was being on this trip. But now it didn’t matter. You had Ace all to yourself.

You whined into his mouth, pulling at the buckle of his pants. Normally Ace made fun of your desperation, but today he obliged with quick eagerness, as if the two of you were running out of time before you had even started. He loosened his buckle and pushed his pants off, leaving one less piece of fabric between the two of you.

His fingers twitched at the hem of your shirt, which was all you needed to break away from him to quickly pull it over your head, throwing it on the floor. You didn’t need any encouragement today; just a small touch was enough to make you crazy. The two of you stumbled over to the bed, trying to stay close but still working on your own clothing.

Ace was fumbling with the buttons of his own shirt, trying to desperately pull them apart.

“This is why I hate shirts,” he mumbled, clearly struggling with his task at hand.

You gave a soft giggle at his attempt and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him back into your lips again. You were so desperate for more of a taste of him. Your own tongue swirling against his, with moans of desperation filling the room.

Your fingers skillfully trailed down his shirt, unbuttoning each one until there were none left. You had to admit, Ace always did look good in a button-up, and you loved that he didn’t have to break away from your lips to take it off.

A knock came at the door, startling you both. You paused for a moment, lips still locked.

“Ms. Astrid?” Marco’s sharp voice came from the other side of the door, and you wanted to weep. Just ten minutes. You only needed ten minutes without him constantly checking on you.

You pulled away from Ace, his face turning into an instant pout as you cleared your throat and prepared to speak.

“Yeah?” Your voice came out uncertain, but you knew Marco could hear your voice through the door.

“Do you know where my assistant is?” Marco asked, his voice quiet and stern.

“No!” you called out. Ace, growing impatient, began sucking on your neck gently, trying his best not to leave marks.

“Really?” Marco’s voice called. You could hear the skepticism in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“Mhmm,” you hummed. Your brain was starting to get foggy, and you prayed Marco would go somewhere else for just a few minutes. You just wanted a little time with Ace.

“Interesting,” Marco said.

Ace bit at your tender flesh and you started to moan out, but his hand quickly flew up and clamped over your mouth to muffle your lewd noises.

“It’s just weird,” Marco said, still right on the other side of your door. “Because his key is in our door. And your key is still in your door.”

Both of you froze, and you could hear the knob starting to turn. You had seconds before Marco opened the door and found the two of you half-naked and entangled in an embrace.

You had just enough time to break apart and throw Ace’s shirt over you before Marco swung the door open, a look of disappointment already on his face.

“Can’t you guys focus on the mission for 5 minutes?” he scolded, staring down at the two of you on the bed.

“Can't you leave us alone for ten?” you shot back. You couldn’t help your foul mood. Being in such a beautiful place like this and having to pretend like you and Ace were strangers was killing you. It wasn’t fair that you were stuck here alone. It wasn’t fair that you couldn’t be with Ace.

“You need to grow up,” Marco said, his voice short and snippy. “Learn some control, both of you. People’s lives are on the line. People who are under our protection. Or did you forget that part of the job?”

You rolled your eyes “It’s not even a difficult mission-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass if it seems like a difficult mission or not. You need to treat every mission like it’s your hardest one yet, or else you’ll get overconfident and you’ll fail. And people will die.”

The words stung, and you thought back to your failure just a few months ago. You were supposed to protect those people, and you had failed.

Ace sucked in a breath, knowing where your mind had gone. “Now hang on, Marco-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Ace. The two of you have been getting away with things because you technically got the mission done, so Pops lets it slide. But we’re not doing a sloppy success this time, and we’re sure as hell not failing it. So I need you guys to actually focus on something other than each other for 5 seconds and we can get this over with.” Marco paused, realizing he may have been a bit too harsh on you. “And then you guys can resume whatever was happening before I walked in, okay?”

You both knew he was right, even if he was rude in his delivery. It was pointless to argue anyway. Ace sighed and got up from the bed, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead as he went. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch him go or to make eye contact with Marco. You were too filled with shame.

And then they were gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You were steaming from Marco’s words. You could feel it. But he wasn’t wrong. You had failed or sloppily completed all of your major missions over the past few months. Some of them hadn’t been your fault for failure, but you had to wonder if you would’ve been more aware of things if Ace wasn’t always on your mind. Even things as mundane as grocery shopping seemed to make you and your commander stumble these days; your minds were simply too cluttered with the thoughts of each other.

The realization of his words brought tears to your eyes, and you struggled to blink them away. You didn’t want to be a failure. You had trained for two years so you wouldn’t be a failure. And yet here you were, struggling to focus on the task at hand because of a boy.

No more. You would complete this and every mission from here on out with perfect accuracy. Failure couldn’t be an option anymore. You refused to mess up.

You didn’t sleep well that night. The victims of your failures came to visit you in your dreams, accompanied by Marines you feared and everyone’s opinion you valued. They all mocked you for your decisions and pain. Eventually, you decided your own conscious thoughts were better than the subconscious ones, and stared at the sky until you saw the sun start to come up.

At breakfast, you kept your eyes peeled and ears open for any hints of pirate or coded words. You saw Ace, but the two of you quickly looked away from one another. You had a mission to focus on.

You went to the woman’s bath and cleared your mind as you dipped into the water. You had to listen now for any tips.

“He did what?!”

“I swear, the whole thing!”

No.

“I’m going to try to go to Sabaody this summer!”

“Aren’t you worried about the Celestial Dragons?”

“They don’t scare me!”

No.

“If we want that aggressive of a timetable, we’ll have to leave today.”

“It’ll take five days to reach it?”

“Five days if we’re lucky.”

There. Your eyes snapped over to the two women talking, and you memorized everything you could about their physical appearance as you focused in on their conversation.

“It’s a small window, but there’s only a week where the Beards aren’t around. So it's best we move quickly.”

The Beards was a horrible codename, but it made it easier to know they were the people you needed to eavesdrop on. There was only one problem, the two women were getting out of the public bath and beginning to retreat to the changing room.

You didn’t want to look suspicious for exiting as soon as you entered. And you certainly didn’t want to look like you were following those women. So you did the only logical thing.

You began coughing. Not a dainty cough either. The type of cough that makes people think you’re about to lose a lung. You jumped out of the water, still coughing, and stumbled back to the women's dressing room.

The women immediately stopped talking as you entered the changing room, but you could sense they didn’t think you were a threat. You quickly got changed and exited the room, desperate to find Marco before they left.

The women followed you out, and you continued to feign your cough, hoping it would draw Marco or Ace.

Miraculously, Marco rounded the corner and began casually walking toward you. You pointed a finger subtly at the two women behind you so only Marco could see it, and passed by him without any further indication that you knew each other.

Marco would take care of the rest. The two of you had worked together long enough that he knew your simplest signals and what they meant. Now, all you wanted was to return to your room and rest.

You slept for hours. It was a dreamless sleep, thankfully. You needed the rest and probably would’ve slept all night if you hadn’t been woken up.

A knock came on the other side of your door woke you, and you opened it to find Marco on the other side.

“Can we talk?”

You gave a silent nod and followed him down the hall and out of the building.

“They left this afternoon, so we can drop the cover stories now,” Marco said.

You gave another nod to acknowledge his words. You still weren’t sure where you stood with him after yesterday.

“Do you feel better?” Marco asked. “It’s always nice to have a solid win.”

“Yeah.” You kicked a rock down the path. The air felt heavy with tension, as if you were about to get scolded again.

“Listen, kid. I’m not mad at you,” he said. “You just needed some sense talked into you. And spite is like, your greatest motivator, y’know?”

You looked at him curiously, surprised that those were the words he chose to speak. You were expecting a lecture, but that didn’t seem to be the case. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you do everything out of pure spite when someone says you can’t do it. And you need the sense knocked into you or you’re too stubborn to change. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” You said. And you believed him. Marco never said or did anything to intentionally hurt you, but he also wouldn’t spare your feelings when you needed to be corrected.

“Well, our mission was successful. So go.” Marco pushed you back towards the onsen. “I think he’s waiting for you at the bar. Don’t make him wait too long. I have a report to make, it’ll probably take me at least a few hours before I get back to my room.”

Your eyes grew wide. “Really?”

“Go! Before I change my mind!”

You gave him a grateful smile and took off back towards the bar. Finally, you’d get time alone. Finally, you could relax. You just had to find him.

You slid onto the barstool next to Ace, but he didn’t even bother to look over at you. It was semi-crowded in the bar, and you knew he wasn’t exactly expecting you to be sitting next to him in such a public place.

“Two drinks of your finest sake,” you said to the bartender. Your voice prompted Ace’s head to swivel toward you, shocked that you were actually next to him.

You grinned over at him. “I’m celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” Ace questioned, a soft smile appearing on his face. It was always good news when you were smiling.

“Just closed on a really big job. I’ve got the weekend to relax now.”

Ace’s eyes lit up, understanding the subtle explanation you were giving him. “That is cause for a celebration.”

The bartender set two drinks in front of you, and you slid one over to Ace. “Just need someone to celebrate with now,” you said, your eyes lingering over his body.

“Oh, I’m always down to celebrate a big accomplishment,” Ace said. He threw down some money for your alls drinks, grabbing his drink in one hand and your hand in the other. “Lead the way.”

You grinned, picking up your drink and pulling him along with you, trying your best not to seem overeager to anyone else in the bar. But the moment you were in the hallway, Ace slammed you up against the wall and pressed his lips against yours.

“Fuck,” he moaned softly. “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.”

“So eager,” you teased. Normally those words came out of his mouth. It was nice to have the tables turned on him for the moment.

Ace’s mouth twitched upwards into a smile. “Shut up,” he mumbled, his lips already dipping down to make contact with yours again. But you pulled away at the last second, continuing your playful act.

“My room,” you whispered. Your fingers intertwined through his and you quickly pulled him down the hallway, trying to get to your room as fast as possible.

You fumbled with your key as you struggled to unlock the door. Ace was as patient as he could be, kissing the nape of your neck as he stood behind you, pressing his body flush against your back.

“Let me kiss you again,” Ace whined.

“Let me open the door first,” you giggled. “Then you can do anything you want to me.”

You could feel his cock twitch against you, the air charged as both of your minds scanned the possibilities your words held.

“Anything?” he whispered, his voice unable to contain the lust and desire he was feeling. God, you missed being this close to him all the time.

You hummed in agreement. You didn’t care what he did in the moment. And usually when you gave him free reign like this, it always ended up being a night to remember.

“I have a private hot spring too,” you said, clicking open the door and turning back to face him too. “Wanna see it?”

His eyes lit up. “I haven’t been in a hot spring yet. Couldn’t get in the public one since our cover would be blown.”

“Wanna go try out this one together?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Oh, that and so much more.” His grin grew devious, and you knew you’d be feeling the ramifications in the morning. You should’ve cared, but the thought only made the anticipation in your core grow heavier.

He picked you up and carried you across the threshold of the doorframe, his lips back against yours again. It was a good thing you had taken that nap because the night was just beginning.

The two of you became one that night, in many different ways and forms. You were afraid to let each other go. Afraid that you might not get another moment that could be this intense. You didn’t break apart until the sun began to rise, the two of you collapsing into one another for a momentary reprieve.

“You are incredible,” Ace whispered, his fingers ghosting across your skin.

“I have a good partner,” you said back, giggling lightly as he kissed your nose.

“I think we can probably get a good thirty-minute nap before Marco comes to get us.”

“We could.” You hummed, considering that option. Your thoughtful expression turned mischievous as you looked at your partner, still slicked in sweat from a night of activity. “Or we could go one more round.”

Ace’s face spread into a wide grin, and his lips instantly began dotting kisses across your skin. “Your wish is my command, princess.”

As he positioned himself above you, you couldn’t help but think: he really was the most wondrous man you’d ever laid your eyes upon.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @aikochan4859 @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707

(if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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noaltbruh · 4 months

Text

@multifandom-hcs Hope you're having a good day too! :))

Bruno and Hermes dating hcs ❤️

Hermes 💋

Chaotic gf. I don't know if you're an introvert or an extrovert, but she will most definitely be more hyped than you for anything.

Loves to try new things with you and go on all sorts of date! From carnivals, to road trips, to that one random place you saw and you're not quite sure if it's a restaurant or a sex shop, but you'll find out together!

Wakes you up at three am. because she just got an idea for what you could do together and you have to do it NOW.

Big on PDA, she's constantly touching you or holding you near her even when you're in public, HECK ESPECIALLY when you're in public.

Loves to show you off to the Stone Ocean gang and can't shut up about how great her partner is.

Definetely teases you and gets even mushier with you if she sees you getting shy.

She'll speak up and stand up for you in any situation, whether that is a stand battle or someone cut in line in front of you.

Always has the biggest grin on her face as soon as she sees you.

Loves to drag you in troubles, but she honestly just wants to have fun with you. Don't worry, if things get out of hand, she knows how to handle policemen.

I think her kisses would be a bit rough, like you can just feel how eager she is to feel her lips on your body.

Is literally always complimenting you and your look, calling you hot, beautiful, handsome, pretty...Whatever you prefer!

"Breath taking as usual, caro/cara!" "I'm...Literally in my pajamas" "Your point?"

Shoplifts for you, I'm sorry. Like- maybe you just saw a cool jewel in a shop and told her you liked it, without really thinking much about it. The next day, you find that exact jewel at your front door.

Opens up about her past and how much she misses her sister, it's one of the few times she genuinely seems sorrowful.

Would love you even more if you accepted to visit her sibling's grave with her. She might cry on your shoulder, so please comfort her.

On a more optimistic note, if she visits her on his own, she even talks to her and you and how awesome you are.

She lets you keep your stuff in her tits without even having to ask her, it's just routine for you two by now.

Loves to do your makeup. Alternatively, if you don't wear it, she still asks you if she can try it on you because she's fully convinced you'd look great with it.

VERY flirty and completely shameless about it, no matter who is watching.

Can't cook lol, but she will gladly take you to any restaurant you like and she'll offer to pay for both of you!

...Yeah, pay.

Bruno 🤐

The boyfriend ever.

He's so romantic and gentle he literally makes me want to cry because he's so perfect and VSGABCAHZCSS.

Just being near him makes you feel safe, you'll never have to fear being judged as long as this man is your partner.

He's calm and understanding. No matter if something is troubling you or you're simply in a bad mood just because, he'll never lose his patience with you.

Encourages you in everything you do, whether that is a small task or a lifelong goal you're trying to pursue, Bruno will always be ready to support you and help you in any way possible.

Might be a bit busy from time to time due to his job, but he makes you to call and text you anytime he gets the chance too. He loves hearing your voice and he wants to be sure that you're doing alright.

He never closes a phone call without an "I love you, tesoro" at the end.

Will make up for the time he missed once he gets back home. He'll do whatever you want to and there aren't limits to how much he's willing to spend for his love.

Do you want to go on a trip to France for the weekend? He already has two tickets and a reservation in the best hotel of the city.

Remember that very fancy restaurant in the city center? Guess who has already reserved a table for two with a beatutil view on the entire city?

Truthfully, however, Bruno enjoys anything as long as he gets to spend it with you. Despite his role in the mafia, he also loves simpler, everyday life with his partner.

Even just going to the local market to buy something together makes him so incredibly happy, and gives him a sense of normality in the mess that's his life.

Not super big on showing affection in public, at least not as much as Mista or Narancia- but he always maintains even a small touch between you.

He loves to hold your hand as you walk, lets you hold on to his arm, or he wraps his arm around your waist.

Way more touchy and flirty in private. Bruno is smooth and knows excabtly where to provoke you or what to tell you to make you blush.

He puts his hand under your chin or on your cheek if you were to look away from him. You can see his proud, little smirk on his face.

The best cook in the gang, male wife material. His fish dishes are the best you'll ever try in your entire life.

Speaking of that, he'd love to go fishing with you. It reminds him of the time he spent with his father and sees it as a way to continue his family traditions. After all, you are his future wife/husband.

He has the kindest look on his face while explaining to you how to fish and it makes me want to explode.

He loves to massage your shoulders, for some reason. Maybe because it helps you relax, but it just feels very intimate to him.

He rubs your back and kisses you on the forehead whenever he hugs you. His embrace is warm and you wish you never had to let go.

Gives you flowers or any sort of gifts on the most random occasions. Don't worry, buddy, you didn't forget and important date, he's just a sweetheart and wanted to give you a present to make you smile.

Also, since you're dating him, you'll now have to take care of five children, aka the gang. I'm sorry, but you did this to yourself the moment you became his partner.

Don't worry, Abbacchio will help you... Perhaps.

On a more serious note, Bruno would love to have a family with you in the future. This man is MADE to raise children, adopted or not, anything is fine for him.

He thinks you'd be a great parent, but of course, if you don't want to be, he'll never force it on you :)

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niqhtlord01 · 1 year

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Humans are weird: Weaponize anything

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Alien: Is that a sword on your back? Human: Why yes it is. Alien: How stupid are you? Alien: We have literal laser guns, and you think a sword will stop us? Human: Normally no. Human: But that was until we put lasers on these as well. Alien: Wait, what? Human: *Rushes alien with space laser sword* ----------------------

Alien: What is that lump of metal in your hand? Human: A weapon. Alien: What kind of weapon? Human: Sonic. Alien: You use sound as a weapon? Human: And a torture device some times. Alien: What? Human: Trust me. Human: If I play the baby shark song fifty times you’ll be begging me for death. ------------------------- Alien: Do I even want to know? Human: Lightning cannon. Human: It shoots random streaks of concentrated electricity in the direction you point it in. Alien: Wouldn’t that make it highly inaccurate? Human: When you fire a weapon this cool does it really matter if you hit what you want? Alien: Yes. Alien: Yes it does. ----------------------------

Human: Want to see my magnet gun? Alien: What could possibly be deadly about a magnet? Human: *Points it at random nearby alien and fires it.* *Target alien begins convulsing violently as all the microscopic metal fragments in their body are ripped out and pool together in a ball of gore* Human: I like to call it the “Therapy Gun” myself, because once you use it you just know you’re going to need some serious treatments to get over these mental scars. ---------------------------

Alien: Did your sword just twitch? Human: Huh? Oh yeah. Human: *Pulls out sword* Human: I made this by forging sentient metal into a blade. Alien: Sentient metal? Human: We ran into these rock like aliens a while ago and one of them was made literally of metal. Human: So I used a shard of them to forge this blade. Alien: Is it also sentient? Human: Not sure. Human: Although when I hold it I can hear a voice in my head telling me to kill everyone. Alien: I think you’ve had enough fun with the magic death sword. ------------------ Alien: Please stop inventing weapons. Human: But we just made time altering ammunition. Alien: Oh gods. Human: By using some unstable particles, when you get hit by these it’ll reverse age you backwards by a random amount. Human: One second you’ll be fighting a thousand year old matriarch and the next you’ll be watching a child break their collarbone when the weapon recoil damn near takes their arm off. Alien: I’m not even surprised at this point…. Human: Really? Guess we aren’t trying hard enough. Alien: Wait, NO! --------------- Alien: Our weapons are useless! Alien: We fire at those ghostly beings but our bullets just pass right through them! Human: Use these. *Tosses custom made weapon* Human: They fire concentrated energy beams at randomized frequencies, meaning that the entities won’t have time to alter their bodies fast enough to allow the projectiles through them without causing damage. Alien: Why do you have these on hand? Human: You’d be surprised how often we’ve had to kill ghosts on our home planet the same way. Alien: Your people have killed….ghosts? Human: Well, some people wanted to humanly capture and release them so we had to do that for a while. Human: They had a catchy theme song and logo. -------------------- Human: Fire in the hole! *Chucks grenade* Aliens: *Braces for explosion* *No explosion* Alien: What kind of grenade was that? Human: Pheromone grenade. Alien: What do those do? *Hears loud screaming coming from enemy and alien looks up* *Enemy are covered in swarming insects that are slowly devouring them* Human: Mostly provide nightmare fuel or a crazy weekend in vegas depending on the strain. -------------------------- Alien: I see the enemy are very afraid of that new cannon you brought. Alien: What does it fire exactly? Human: *Shrugs* Depleted uranium canisters mostly. Alien: What in florps name!?! Human: I know, right? Human: Either the sheer kinetic force will kill them, or the still radioactive shrapnel that’ll cover them after these canisters burst against their target. Alien: Are you not concerned about the horrific environmental damage you are doing? Human crew: *Looks at each other and shrugs* Human: It’s not our planet.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #funny #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01

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softshrimpy · 7 months

Text

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Step 14: Meet The Parents

Summary: Working at the Weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-workers. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came to Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I'm simply a slut for comforting insecure Larissa, sue me. 🦐✨

Tags: @variant-2402 @the-bagel24 @eveymay @kimiinou @muffintopxs @h-doodles @bbykens @lilfartbox1 @bigolgay @winterfireblond @gela123 @i-like-reading @hopelessly-sapphic @alder-saan @im-a-carnivorous-plant

(pls let me know if you want to be tagged/ I missed you!)

Chapter 13

Cross Posted on AO3 Here

HWTAHP Masterlist

-----------------------------------------------------------

You had awoken the next morning to a rather lovely little vase of flowers and a handwritten note. The note smelled like Larissa (yes you sniffed it). The small bouquet contained white tulips, white orchids and some lilies of the valley. If you had been versed in the language of the flowers you would’ve known that they symbolized rebirth, sincere apology and forgiveness. However, since you knew absolutely fucking nothing about the language of flowers you simply thought they reminded you of her hair and general elegance.

Darling, I truly can’t thank you enough for your forgiveness and kindness. I will do everything I can to do right by you. I cannot express how much you mean to me

Yours LW

The heartfelt note had made you rather embarrassingly, giggle and kick your feet. You had all but skipped your way to your appointment with Vlad. He had taken one look at you all smiles and sunshine before rolling his eyes and snorting.

You had spent the morning being what Vlad called an ‘insufferable lovestruck puppy’ which you took as a compliment. You had been sitting in the quad reading a book Dr. Kinbott had recommended for you when Yoko appeared in front of you.

“So you live here now huh?” She remarks.

“I guess so, which means you’re stuck with me,” you joke, closing your book to give her your full attention.

“So… it’s parents weekend this weekend.” She says.

“Oh, that’s cool. Will your parents be attending?”

“My dad will be here yeah, and you’ll definitely meet him. That’s not what this is about.” She explains, “It’s Enid, her parents are weird about her not wolfing out and she’s going to need some like adult support.”

“I’m not certain I count as a proper adult-“

“And she looks up to you and Weems, probably because you’re the only adult queers she knows. And since you two have made up and are together again-“

“Hold on we’re not- I mean we did make up but it’s-it’s a bit more complicated tha-“

“So when her parents inevitably fuck up and make her upset I would really appreciate it if you two would just offer her some support.”

“I-well I mean I-I can see what I can d-“

“Perfect! Thanks queen,” she grinned before getting up and leaving you sitting there rather confused.

Of course, you would give Enid your full support, it was the least she deserved. But you weren’t sure what you and Larissa even were at the moment and didn’t really want to rush into anything. But you resolved that you would at least mention it to her when you saw her. Knowing her motherly care for the young werewolf she’d probably be down to help her out in any way she could.

The mention of parents had made you think of yours, despite your deep inner desire to ignore that rather large problem that needed to be sorted. You had so many questions. And frankly weren’t sure if you even wanted the answers. You knew at some point you’d have to talk to them, maybe even see them. You really would be much happier if you could simply…not do any of that. You already had your issues with them, never mind the fact that they definitely knew you were and vampire and almost definitely did something to make you appear more human.

You’re broken from that particularly fun little spiral of sadness when Larissa appears next to you, sitting down and handing you a cute lil sandwich. You quickly forget all about your crappy parental relationship and instead focus on having a nice time with Larissa.

——

Parents' weekend arrived faster than you expected.

You had shared lunch with Larissa almost every day, which was making you far more giddy than it should. You cherished every moment you got with her. She had been rather stressed out with the planning and organizing. But she met you every day for lunch, and you would chat about everything and nothing and you felt your heart healing bit by bit each day.

You were currently standing in the quad, watching as parents arrived and went to see their kids. It was really rather heartwarming, seeing so many kids (most of whom you knew on some level) chatting with their parents and actually being listened to. There were those who seemed rather pissed their parents were there or those who were sitting with friends and their families. You were keeping an eye on Enid, glancing over at her every now and again to make sure she was doing okay after Yoko’s ominous warning. She seemed alright for now but you could tell having her parents around was stressing her out a bit.

“Are you a part of the staff here?” A voice asked from your side.

You just about fell the fuck over out of fright, turning to see who had snuck up on you. It was a woman dressed in a figure-hugging black dress with long dark hair. The dark look was completed with almost plum-colored lipstick. Honestly, she pulled it off in a way you weren’t sure many could.

“Oh uh…no I’m not a teacher here.” You answered.

“Then I suppose you’re a parent…?”

“Oh uhm no, no I’m not a parent. It’s uh- well the story of my being here is rather complicated…”

Honestly, you had no idea how to explain to this woman why you were staying at Nevermore. You weren’t sure simply saying ‘I was attacked in the woods and brought back here to recover’ would make much sense or not be met with a thousand other questions. And honestly, you weren’t sure Larissa wanted you advertising why you were there either.

You’re saved from having to explain further when Larissa stepped up to the podium to make her welcoming speech. She’s truly mesmerizing when she speaks. And she looks fucking gorgeous as always. You’re almost certain you’re staring at her like a love-sick puppy, again. She finishes her speech (you didn’t take in one word from it) and glances at you, sending you a small smile. You send a small wave back, beaming and feeling your heart skip a beat.

“Ah…I see.” You hear from the woman next to you.

“Oh no I mean it’s-it’s not like that! I mean it. Well, it is but it’s- you know it’s complicated and-“ you try to explain, not wanting to start rumours or fuck up Larissa’s image.

“It’s alright dear,” she chuckles, reaching out and squeezing your arm, “I’m gla-“

She’s cut off as her head snaps back, her grip on your arm tightening slightly. She stays like that for a few seconds before she relaxes, her gaze coming back to you. You notice she’s now grinning at you and you can’t help but feel slightly uneasy.

“I-are you alright?” You ask.

“Absolutely fine dear,” she smiles, “and you and I have a lot to talk about, particularly regarding a certain white-haired principal.”

——

Larissa was stressed.

Parents' weekend was usually a tense affair, with the insane amounts of organizing needed to make sure it ran smoothly. Not to mention the countless meetings she ended up having with parents of families, varying from simple check-ins to rather difficult talks regarding the students' behaviour.

However, none of this caused half as much stress as seeing you standing with Morticia Addams. She was sure she was overreacting, Morticia had no way of knowing the two of you were…well whatever you two were. And even if she did it wasn’t like she would say anything that would intentionally harm your recovering relationship.

Unintentionally though…

Larissa had been swept into parent meetings since her opening speech. She had a meeting with the Addams next and was quite frankly dreading it. She slumped forward in her seat resting her head in her hands as she sighed. Wednesday on her own was a headache to deal with (she would never admit how deeply the girl had wormed her way into her heart). Now she would have to suggest not only to her but to her parents that they go for family counseling. God her work was cut out for her.

As her office doors opened she straightened up in her chair, squaring her shoulders and putting on her warmest smile. Her carefully crafted expression falters when she notices you being dragged in by Morticia who seems to be halfway through telling you something she prays isn’t about her.

When you glance up at her and shoot her a shy smile her heart flutters and her anxiety calms a little. She gestures for the family to sit, eye twitching when Morticia squeezes your shoulder and whispers something in your ear.

She’s further confused when Morticia asks you to stay, earning a rather loud sigh from Wednesday. You turn to Larissa, silently asking if you should go, looking just as confused as she feels. She nods, gesturing to an open chair against the wall.

The meeting goes about as smoothly as Larissa could’ve expected. Wednesday at least keeps her sarcastic, cutting remarks to a minimum. Morticia makes her usual teasing remarks, even going so far as to call her a ‘stately sequoia tree’. She swears she heard you muttering something about climbing her like a tree and nearly choked on her own breath, barely managing to keep her face from blushing bright red.

Eventually, the Addams leave. Not before Morticia comments over her shoulder something along the lines of ‘you two love birds enjoy yourselves.’ When her office doors finally shut she groans, covering her face with her hands.

You stand, quietly making your way behind her and resting your hands on her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her head. You gently massage her shoulders, face flushing at the bordering-on obscene moan she lets out.

“Long day?” You ask softly.

“Mmmm…” she hums, melting into your touch.

The two of you stay in silence for a while, with Larissa relaxing a bit more with each press of your thumbs into her shoulders. Eventually, she straightens up again, dropping her hands into her lap. You press one last kiss to the back of her neck, relishing in the way she shudders at the feeling. You then squeeze her shoulders one last time before moving to sit on the edge of her desk, smiling softly down at her. She fidgets with her bracelet, staring very intently down at her desk.

“Did you uhm…have an interesting chat with Morticia?” She asks gingerly.

“Mmm,” you hum, “she was regaling me with stories of your shared time at Nevermore.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah! She was quite nostalgic about it all. She was telling me about how you two shared a room and got up to ‘many daring activities’ as she put it.”

She groans, once again opting to cover her face with her hands.

“She did uhm…she did tell me you’re a shapeshifter.” You murmur.

Your heart breaks at the way she stiffens at that, still not looking anywhere near you. She clears her throat, going to say something before clenching her hands into fists on her lap.

“Is…is there someone you wish for me to change into?” She asks, in a voice that’s so small and hurt.

“I what? Why would I-” You stutter.

“I…most people when they find out about…about my abilities…they. Most people want me to turn into someone else…someone…better.”

She whispers the last part.

You blink at her. And then you blink again.

“…who….who in the fuck said that to you?” You ask, anger seeping into your voice.

She doesn’t say anything, simply shrugging and refusing to meet your eye. You have to take a moment to calm yourself down so you don’t take out your anger on Larissa. You take a deep breath and she starts to apologize in a watery voice when you stop her.

“Larissa I don’t know your middle name Weems,” you start, moving to sit on her lap and cradle her face in your hands, “there is absolutely no one on the face of this planet- no one in this goddamn universe who could ever be better than you. I-I can’t even begin to explain. You’re like…some fucking celestial being brought to earth to make it a better place. You’re-you’re brilliant Larissa. You’re - words can’t describe how utterly impeccable you are. I don’t understand- I could never want anyone but you, just as you are.”

You brush your thumbs over her cheeks, eyes lovingly tracing over her features. You notice her eyes welling up with tears, giving her a gentle, loving smile.

“I-I don’t understand…” she whispers.

“I know my one little speech won’t change your mind. Now when it sounds like so many fucking assholes-“ you cut yourself off, taking a breath to calm yourself. “And I know that-I know you and I are in a strange place right now but that doesn’t change the fact that you are far more than just enough, just as you are. And I will spend every moment I have by your side helping you see that. I-if you’ll let me.”

She stares up at you, tears staining her cheeks as she gapes up at you with wide eyes. You gently wipe her tears away. She wraps her arms around your waist, hands clutching at your back. You can feel the way she’s trembling, the subtle shake of her hands as they press into your back and pull you towards her. You press a kiss to her forehead, and then another to her nose before you lean down to hover with your lips practically touching hers.

You stay there, staring into her eyes and glancing down at her lips every so often. Your heart is pounding in your chest and you’re almost certain Larissa can feel it. It almost feels like the first time the two of you kissed all over again. You’re about to finally close the distance, finally kiss her-

And then Larissa’s office doors are being opened and none other than Morticia is walking through them. The two of you barely have enough time to lean apart from each other when Morticia smirks so fucking smugly at the sight of you two.

“Oh, how glad I am to see the two lovebirds back together.” She smiles, before promptly leaving the room just as quickly as she entered.

Silence permeates the room after the door clicks shut. You turn back to look at Larissa, a smile tugging at your lips upon seeing her flushed cheeks. When the two of you lock eyes you can’t help the giggle that rises in your throat. Larissa soon follows suit, the sound of your combined laughter filling the room. Eventually, you both calm down leaving you both smiling at each other.

“C'mon pretty lady,” you hum standing up from her lap and holding out your hands for her, “we should go make sure the school didn’t burn down while we were talking.”

“Don’t even joke about that. Anything is possible with this year's students.” She snorts, wiping her eyes one last time as she stands.

You take her hand in yours leading her to the door with a smile on your face. And so the two of you leave her office, hand in hand, ready to face whatever comes your way.

—-

Turns out what came your way was far more manageable than you had thought.

There was the entire debacle of Wednesday's father being arrested for a decades-old murder case. And then Wednesday and Morticia joined him in the town's jail for grave robbing. Larissa hadn’t found the whole thing half as funny as you had but had, reluctantly, agreed to badger Sheriff Galpin into letting Wednesday and Morticia go. Which in turn led to Gomez having his name cleared. So all in all a manageable affair.

Other than that the weekend had gone smoothly. Enid had come to you and Larissa on Sunday while you were having lunch in her office, a little teary-eyed and apologetic for interrupting you two. You both rushed to assure her she was never a bother and listened as she told you about how her mother kept pressuring her to ‘wolf out’ and suggested a werewolf-conversion therapy camp (you had honestly wanted to go fight the poor girl's mother, mayhaps even bite her for good measure.) But Enid had explained how she stood up for herself, earning much praise from both of you. She spent the rest of the lunch with you both, sharing the hot gossip that had been happening.

So really, all in all, the weekend had been quite a success. This was why you and Larissa were in town today, grabbing some celebratory hot cocoa from the Weathervane. You had just finished catching up with James (Tyler was strangely nowhere in sight when you arrived). You picked up both of your hot cocoas as you had decided to take them to go so that you could take a stroll around town.

You were walking arm in arm with Larissa, telling her about something James had told you when you heard your name being called from behind you. You stop dead in your tracks, your heart dropping into your stomach. Larissa turns to look over her shoulder, glancing at you as she does, concern marring her features.

You know that voice. You had fucking hoped you’d never hear that voice again in your life if you were particularly lucky. You take a deep shuddering breath, taking a moment to center yourself before turning around. And there he stands. The man you’d hoped to fuck would just leave you the fuck alone.

“Hi dad.”

#htwahp #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #larissa x reader #principal weems

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