#// we can probably wrap up in the next reply or two

[semisgroupie]

I’VE BEEN A GOOD GIRL, SANTA

roronoa zoro x fem. reader

wc: 3.6k

warnings: college au!, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, standing sex (zoro is super strong), alcohol consumption, manhandling, biting, size difference (slightly), wingman vivi in effect, edging, denied orgasms, clit kisser zoro

synopsis: it’s a christmas fund raiser and you desperately need to get laid, so it’s a win-win situation

a/n: happy holidays everyone!!!

You sigh and look at Vivi as she drags you to the entrance of the biggest fraternity at Grand Line University, Alpha Di Alpha. “Do we really have to go to this?” You groan loudly and Vivi stops in her tracks then faces you.

“Yes, you have been cooped up for the past three weeks because of finals and you need to get out. And you need to get laid, I’m tired of almost tripping over your vibrator when I go into your room to grab something.” Your eyes widen at her words and you lift a hand to lightly hit her arm, making her laugh. “I always keep things out of the way! And besides the point, I don’t need to get laid. I’m doing just fine by myself.” Now it’s Vivi’s turn to sigh and she lifts her hands to place them on your shoulders, “you’re gonna get laid. When was the last time you had a good orgasm from something that wasn’t rechargeable?”

You consider her words for a moment then look at her before mumbling, “it was last winter with that French guy after our sorority’s charity event.” She nods and pulls you close, wrapping her arms around you as she continues walking to the entrance of the fraternity. “Exactly! A whole year, that’s sad and as your best friend I can’t have you suffer anymore. And maybe the next guy you hook up with could cook up an amazing breakfast like that French guy did. I still have wet dreams about that waffle stuffed with nutella and strawberries.” You roll your eyes and nod. “But this event is a little demeaning, don’t you think? We’re gawking at these guys and bidding on them like they’re merchandise.” She raises an eyebrow and looks at you, “I think of this as payback for all women. Now we get to treat guys the same way they treat us. Plus you don’t have to bid on anyone but if you do, you do get a date and you can get laid. And you won’t be spending any of your own money, you get to use my dad’s money and it’s for a great cause. It’s a win-win-win-win situation!”

You open your mouth to reply but the loud Christmas music blasting from the fraternity house drowns you out as you both walk inside. Two guys in Santa suits hand you both auction bid cards and Vivi lets you go for a moment to grab some drinks then comes back to hand you one. She smiles and leans in close, “loosen up! This is supposed to be fun!” You reluctantly take the drink from her and bring the red solo cup to your lips to take a sip before she grabs your hand again. “It’s starting soon and we should grab good seats!”

You glance around, looking at some of your fellow sorority sisters and faces of people you’ve probably had a class or two with but you can’t really put a name to the face. You sit with Vivi in the middle of the second row, you have a perfect view of the stage set up and you look around as the lights start dimming and the music volume lowers. You set your bid card on your lap and rest back against your chair, nursing your drink because you’re sure that if you get up, your seat will be taken when you get back.

The velvet curtain opens and you see a familiar face, Usopp. He’s been in a few of your classes and you’ve hung out with him a couple of times. He’s dressed in a Santa costume and he clutches the microphone in one hand as he walks to the front of the stage. “Hello everyone! Thank you for joining us tonight for the wonderful, Alpha Di Alpha charity event! All of the proceeds and donations tonight will be sent directly to the local pediatric hospital to help fund whatever needs help! So thank you in advance and who’s ready to bid on some of my frat brothers!” Cheers and screams erupt from the crowd and Vivi has to nudge you to participate along, which you barely do — you just clap your hand against your thigh and fake a smile.

“Our first bachelor of the night is one of my closest friends, a man of many words, but most importantly, a lover of meat. Luffy!” The velvet curtains open again and you see Luffy walk out, almost tripping over his feet as he does so. Once he reaches the front of the stage the bidding starts, you see multiple cards fly up and you take another sip of your drink. You just want to go back home and bury yourself in your bed but for Vivi’s sake, you’ll stay.

You watch multiple guys walk the stage and you’re almost tempted to bid on one, Ace. You’ve known him since freshman year and he’s definitely gotten a lot more muscular. His Santa suit is open to reveal his toned, freckled chest and your eyes drift down to his neatly trimmed happy trail as he lowers his Santa pants slightly, earning himself more bids. But for some unknown reason you don’t grab your bid card, you just watch the chaos ensue. But he ends up raising close to $1200 just by himself.

“Now, my last sexy Santa is a man of few words, he trains all day, he likes bottles of booze and if he could spend the rest of his life sleeping, he would! If you’re the highest bidder you’ll be able to find the answer to one of the most important questions; does his carpet match the drapes? Let me hear it for Zoro!” The name is familiar but your eyes widen when the velvet curtains open again and you see the green-haired man walk out. You’ve seen him plenty of times in the campus gym, he always maxes out the machines and you have to get his help to unload the heavy weights he packed on. All he’s wearing is red velvet Santa pants and black suspenders that stretch along his toned chest. Your eyes trace over the scars on his body before you look at his face. You lick your dry lips and your hand instinctively reaches for the bid card.

“Since I’ve saved the best for last, let’s start with a good bid. Who’s got $250?” Your hand shoots up and Vivi looks over at you with a wide smile on her face. “Okay, 300?” Another hand shoots up and the price just keeps going up. You never spoke about a limit with Vivi but her father is a politician with more money than he could handle so you basically had free range. “Okay, okay, this might be the most offered tonight. Who’s got $2500?” Your hand shoots up again and you glance over at the person you’ve been bidding against all night, “do I hear $2550?” Usopp looks around as no other hand goes up, “going once…twice…alright! Congratulations to the lucky lady! And thank you for being our highest bidder, your money is going to a great cause. That is all for tonight, thank you and stay behind for the party! Alpha Di Alpha will never disappoint and will always throw a kickass party!” The music starts up again and Vivi wraps her arms around you.

“You did it! And Zoro is hot! He looks like he could flip you all over the place and just manhandle you.” She giggles and heat spreads across your cheeks as you think about it. He handles 100 lb weight plates like nothing so you could just imagine how he’d be with you. “I’m gonna grab another drink, I’ll be back.” She loosens her arms around you and you walk over to the bar to mix something up. You glance down at the concoction and take a big swig from your cup, groaning as it burns your throat.

“Easy there, I’m a huge drinker but I wouldn’t mix half of the shit you just mixed together.” A gravelly voice comes from behind you and you turn to see Zoro. Your eyes widen as you look at him and you swallow thickly. He raises an eyebrow and chuckles as he moves past you to make himself a drink. “Dump that garbage out, if you want something strong then I can mix it for you.” He grabs a second cup and starts making a drink for you and himself. You stand there, dumbfounded and watch as his muscles flex and tense with each subtle movement. “Are you just gonna gawk at me or will you finally say something, Miss Moneybags?” The nickname takes you out of your trance and heat rises to your cheeks as you meet his eyes, “Miss Moneybags?”

He laughs and finishes up the drinks, handing you a cup, “yeah, I don’t really know your name and you just dropped two grand for a date with me. Not many college students have that kind of money.” You nod and take a sip of the drink he made, which is more tolerable than what you threw together earlier, “my friend’s dad is a politician so it’s technically his money that she’s letting me use and my name is Y/N.” He nods and takes a sip of his drink, “so, what made you bid on me? I’m sure it’s not my muscles that captivated you..” For extra emphasis he flexes his pectorals and chuckles.

“Well, I don’t really know why. I’ve seen you at the gym plenty of times and something just made me raise the card. Plus I really hate losing so I wasn’t going to get outbidded by anyone.” You bring the cup to your lips again and glance over as Vivi makes her way over to you. You watch her with wide eyes as she tips her head to Zoro and mouths: ‘he looks like his dick is huge, good luck!’ Zoro turns to see where your gaze is focused on and raises an eyebrow just as Vivi is about to make another comment about him and Vivi grabs a beer bottle then nods at the both of you before leaving. He turns back to you and looks at you, “your friend?”

You nod and smile at him, “yeah, she brought me here,” you look at his chest before meeting his eyes, “she thinks that being here and bidding on someone is a way for me to end my year long dry streak.” His eyes widen and a smirk grows on his face, “fuck, a whole year? No wonder why you eye me the way you do here and at the campus gym. You’re practically a nun.” He laughs and you down the rest of your drink before tossing the cup in the garbage so you can walk away and save yourself from anymore embarrassment. Just as you take your first step, his hand reaches out to grip your wrist. “Hey, I’m sorry, that was a bad joke. How about we just forget about this conversation and dance? Then we’ll see what goes on from there.” He strokes the skin of your wrist with his thumb and you think for a moment before nodding, “yeah, let’s dance.”

The music pounds in your ears as you sway your hips to the music, Zoro stands close to you but doesn’t press himself against you, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. As more sensual music plays and as the alcohol you drank earlier settles more into your system, you feel a bit more confident. You glance back at him and throw him a flirty smile, “come on, I want to feel you against me.” He bites his lip and reaches out to grip your hips and pulls you back against him, leaning down to whisper, “keep swaying those hips against me and you’ll really feel me against you soon.” You whimper as he squeezes your hips tighter and you press your ass against his crotch as you move to the beat of the music. As the next song comes on, you can feel him harden against your ass. The velvet of his pants does nothing to hide how big and thick he is.

He leans down again and nips at your earlobe, “feel how hard you made me? Think you can take it after a year of not getting fucked?” You nod and bite your lip as you move a hand back to stroke him over his pants, he groans in your ear and you turn around to properly face him so you can give him your answer, “why don’t we go somewhere private and find out?” He groans and grips your hand that is stroking his bulge and leads you up the stairs, he drags you along and halfway up the stairs he stops and lifts you up. He throws you over his shoulder and lifts a hand to smack your ass as he goes up the rest of the stairs. “You walk too damn slow.” He mumbles as he walks down one of the hallways and walks into this room, shutting the door behind him and locking it for extra measure. He sets you down on the ground then pins you to his door as he leans in to kiss you. His lips move against yours hungrily and his hands move along your body roughly.

He groans against your lips as his hands grope your breasts through your top, his thumbs flicking along your nipples through the material. You whimper against his lips and you move the suspenders down his shoulders before dragging your nails lightly along his chest, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingers. He breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours as he hooks his fingers along the neckline of your top. “I hope this isn’t your favorite.” He mumbles before you hear the loud sound of fabric ripping. He pulls the now-scraps of your top off your shoulders and lets it hit the ground before he pulls the cups of your bra down to expose your chest to him. He gropes your right breast with one hand while his mouth explores your left. He’s rough with his movements but it makes you wetter by the second. His fingers tweak at your nipple while he bites your other one then drags his tongue along it to soothe the dull ache.

You writhe against the door and he moves his hand down to your skirt, roughly tugging at it as he pulls it down your legs. Once you’re left in nothing but your panties, he presses his lips against yours then pulls back slightly as his hands move to the backs of your thighs, “jump.” You wrap your arms around his neck then jump as he commands, he presses you against the door firmly as he ruts his hard on against the growing damp spot on your panties. He moves one hand from you to pull his cock out then pulls your panties to the side. He bites his lip as he drags the leaking tip of his cock through your folds to collect your juices then pushes into you. Your back arches off the door as he grips your ass tightly, sinking you down to take more of his cock. The stretch sends a delicious burn through your body and it leaves you craving more.

He soon bottoms out, his cock throbbing inside of you while you clench around him. He leans in and licks up the column of your throat before groaning against your skin, “fuck, tell me I can move. I can’t take this much longer.” He drags his teeth along the sensitive skin before lightly biting down, “please Zoro, fuck me.” He uses his grip on your ass to lift you up slightly as he starts moving his hips, he starts off slow before picking up the pace. Your nails dig into his tanned shoulders as his cock hits your sweet spot with perfect precision. His mouth goes back to your neck, licking and biting the skin as he continues to pound into you. All the sensations are working together to bring you closer to the edge, it’s almost embarrassing how fast the coil in your belly tightens.

“Z-Zoro, you’re gonna make me cum. Fuck.”

Just as the words leave your lips, he stops thrusting into you and lifts you higher to pull out. “What the fuck?! Why would you stop?” Your eyes widen as you look at him and your pussy clenches around nothing as a smirk graces his lips. “Where’s the fun if you cum so quickly? We’ve got the whole night ahead of us and we should use the time efficiently.” He moves you from the door and carries you to his bed, he lays you down then spreads your legs as he lays down between them. He uses one hand to keep your panties to the side and he leans in to lightly blow on your sensitive cunt. You whimper and buck your hips as your clit twitches. “Zoro…cmon.” You whine as he continues to blow on your cunt and he chuckles as he keeps his focus on your drooling cunt.

“Oh, I’m just so mean aren’t I? Just teasing you when you need me so badly.” He coos as he talks to your pussy and his tone makes you clench around nothing. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the ache go away. I promise.” He coos again before he leans in to press a kiss to your clit, he lifts his eyes to look at you as he sticks his tongue out and licks from your entrance to your clit. “So fucking sweet.” He groans before he dives in, his tongue dipping into your pussy to get more of your juices before he wraps his lips around your clit. He sucks harshly, making your back arch off the bed then he moves his other hand to push two fingers inside of you. He curls his fingers inside to massage your g-spot as he sucks on your clit harder, making your thighs shake before you try to close them around his head. With the hand he’s using to hold your panties to the side, he lets go for a moment to pinch your thigh, using the gesture as a warning to keep your legs spread.

He switches his tongue and fingers, pressing his thumb to your clit as he dips his tongue in and out of your hole. “Ah fuck Zoro, that feels so good.” You moan and he lifts his head from your pussy, “I know.” With that he goes back to your pussy, dipping his tongue in and out faster as he rubs your clit faster. Your moans get louder and you writhe more, the coil from earlier tightening again. But just before you can tip over the edge, he pulls away. You ball your fists and whine again, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I’m getting really tired of this, Zoro.” You mumble as he kisses up your body and then presses his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I’m just making this experience memorable for you, dear. It’s been a year since you last fucked someone so you shouldn’t complain so much.” He pulls off his pants completely then grips your legs, pulling you closer to him. He spits on his hand and smears it along his cock before he lines it up with your entrance, “you’ll cum this time, I promise. Then when we go on our proper date, I’ll make you cum so much you’ll forget your name.”

Before you can open your mouth to respond, he pushes himself into you, throwing his head back as you clench around him tightly. “Fuck, you feel even better after being edged,” he bites his bottom lip as he grips your hips tightly, lifting them slightly as he starts thrusting. He watches how your tits bounce with each snap of his hips and his heavy balls hit the curve of your ass at a rhythmic pace. A neatly trimmed patch of green hair brushes against your clit and you lift one of your hands to grip his wrist, digging your nails as he thrusts faster. With your hips raised like this, the tip of his cock nudges against your cervix making you moan louder.

“Zoro, ah fuck don’t stop.” He watches as your face contorts in pleasure, your pussy grips him tighter each time he reels his hips back. His fingers dig into your hips harder, bound to leave imprints once he’s done. He leans in and wraps his lips around one of your nipples, licking and biting the sensitive bud as he ruts into you like an animal. He pulls off with a wet pop and moves one of his hands to rub your engorged clit, groaning as you clench around him even tighter.

“Let go for me, I know you’re right there, just let go.” He growls out and the coil in the pit of your stomach finally snaps. You cry out his name as you cum, your eyes rolling back as he continues to thrust into you. “Cum inside, please Zoro.” You moan out and it doesn’t take long for him to follow through with your command. Thick ropes of his cum fill you and he pants as he grinds against you. He slowly pulls out of you and watches how some of his cum leaks out of you, he groans at the sight and his cock twitches but he decides that you’ve had enough and lays down beside you.

“You’re staying the night, maybe we could sneak a round two in the morning. I have to make up for all the orgasms you could’ve had during your year long dry spell and I won’t go through edging you again. Even though you look fucking adorable when you get denied an orgasm.” He chuckles as he pulls you close and presses his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “Get some rest, you’ll need it.”

taglist: @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-other than that, wasn’t so bad.” Simon says, readjusting the material of the balaclava across the bridge of his nose with his free hand. His other hand is busy, keeping yours warm as you lead him down sidewalk after sidewalk.

The two of you have just finished having Sunday morning brunch at a local cafe, something you insisted was becoming ‘tradition’ after the second time it happened. And according to you, after finishing eating, (Simon never wanting to hear a word about you paying for a thing) the next part of this lazy morning routine calls for strolling about at a pace that he would normally find pointless, if not downright frustrating. But for you, he slows down.

“Butcher’s an interesting first job.” You reply, nodding along in thought. You picture a younger Simon, fresh out of school, probably fresh faced as well. He was likely as tall, though not yet as muscular as the military would make him. A meat clever in hand, bloody apron around his waist, he was likely still inadvertently intimidating people back then the way he does now. “I was mostly just taking babysitting jobs until I graduated. Liked it well enough.”

“I actually had to babysit a neighbour one time, when I was younger. Actual baby at tha’ too.” He tells you with a chuckle, slightly shaking his head at the memory.

“What?” You laugh as well, the image in your mind now swapping out the meat clever in a teenaged Simon’s grip for a drooling infant. “How did that work out?”

“Neighbour comes bangin’ on our door, she’s carryin’ the thing, it’s screamin’ its bloody little head off,” You roll your eyes at the way Simon refers to the child, swatting his arm playfully but listening on. “She tells me her husband thinks he’s havin’ a fuckin’ heart attack. None o’ the other neighbours are home or answerin’ the door. ‘Fore I know it, she’s passin’ me the kid, askin’ if mum can watch her while she drives him to the hospital. Next thing I know she’s gone and I’m left with the thing.”

“Oh my gosh! Well where was your mum?” You ask, in disbelief that you’ve never heard this story from him before, half wondering if he’s pulling your leg.

“She wasn’t home, I can tell you that! Only me and the new lil’ orphan were.” He utters, strengthening his grip on your hand as you start to hunch over with laughter.

“Okay so wait, you were home alone? Oh no! How long did you have to ‘babysit’ for?” You giggle.

“Well technically Tommy was there but he would’ve only been a hindrance, told him to stay in his room.” Simon adds, pulling his hand out of yours, only to wrap it around your shoulder, now that you’ve come to a standstill at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “Fuckin’ nearly 4 hours went by before mum came home and took over. Longest hours o’ my life. I think that might’ve been the day I enlisted actually.”

You elbow his side as you continue to laugh, seeing that he’s teasing you at the end now. You open your mouth to tease him right back, but your eye catches sight of the shop you’ve been standing in front of, jaw dropping wider.

“Simon!” You’re pulling him with a strength he would otherwise be impressed by if he wasn’t so suddenly caught off guard, senses kicking into high alert now as his head swivels in search of the cause of your distress. “How have we never seen this before??”

Oh.

He should’ve known better.

He actually had been avoiding taking you down this street for a little while now, but had been too caught up in his story telling to notice the direction you’d taken in him. His subtle effort of wrapping his arm around you to tilt you away from the storefront obviously hadn’t worked out. He opens his mouth to answer, but can only sigh when you’re already making your way towards the entrance of the pet store.

“We’re only lookin’, right?” He asks loud enough for you to hear as he follows you in.

Wrong.

[kekewrites]

tw. Dark content, noncon, dubcon, creampie, size kink, magic onahole/toy/fleshlight, coercion, mind-break, corruption, obsession, gaslighting(?), objectification(?)

part 2 of the onahole troupe

***

"Sweetie~ Are you already out? Come on, you can still keep going."

Hot... It's so hot.

Whining, your body continue to bounce on him, hole swallowing his fat cock. Sweat and cum staining your thighs, sticky and wet as it mixes with your juices.

Such a hot sight. His hands gripping your hips, helping you bounce on him and sometimes meeting your hips with his own, making you whine and sob.

You were so sensitive, having no idea how much time have passed. How many orgasm he pulled out of you.

"I'm helping you, remember?" He sat up, wrapping his arms around as he pulls you close. "Ha... You're so cute. That bastard won't touch you anymore, ok? I'm here."

Barely hanging on, you nodded as your ears started to ring. If there was still a rational part of you awake, you would've find his words suspicious, but you were just too dumb for that. Blindly trusting your friend, believing him with your being.

He promised to help you.

So why does it feel like you made the wrong choice?

That tiny rational thought of yours was pushed as you felt his lips on your own.

***

It was odd how the phantom disappeared after his help.

Your complexion improved, the shadows under your eyes fading as if the weight of their presence had been slowly draining you all along. Sleep came easier now, uninterrupted by restless nights and unwanted pleasure, able to focus studying without it whisking your attention away.

Sitting in class, you were finally able to listen without dreading for the touches.t was freeing.

You were glad you told him.

Smiling a bit, you open your cellphone as you think of hanging out with them. You really missed them, thinking about how you three rarely hang out nowadays. It used to be so easy to hang out with your closest friends, without having to plan anything elaborate. Just a quick text, and before you knew it, you were all together. But lately, it was about you two without your more or less busy friend. You know how much he took his studies seriously, often holding back to invite him whenever you discover a film you'd both like to watch.

Determined, you found yourself texting him, sending him a little message of, "Are you busy? Let's meet at the library when it's lunch time!"

You nervously shifted on your sit as you await his reply, a minute after you feel your phone vibrate.

"Sure."

You couldn't wait for the class to be over.

***

"Hey, what's up?" You heard his voice as he sat down beside you. Your usual hangout spot, comfort place, and your solace before those events happened.

Beaming, you turned to him, grateful for the simple presence of someone you're comfortable with.

"Are you done with your studies? I was hoping we could hangout soon, all three of us..." You speak, your confidence dipping down as you let out the last part.

Resting his chin on his hand, "Hmm... We have a quiz for next week in my major," He observes as your smile fades, "But I suppose, I'll make time for you," He swears it's like watching a dog wag its tail as he see you regain your smile.

It couldn't hurt to relax a little, it's been a while since you two hangout. He did notice how you were with that stupid guy in the past few days

You softly clap your hands, "That's great! Oh, we should do a movie marathon!" As you babble your plans, he couldn't help but notice how more... alive you look compared to before. He was still wondering why you were so troubled back then, but he's glad you got it solved out.

Humming, you started typing on the notes in your phone, making plans and listing movies to watch, throwing in snacks to buy as well. It was safe to say that you're really excited to be able to be with your best friends.

It would be just a fun night with the guys, right?

***

"Come on, don't be upset. Something probably important came out that he won't be able to come."

It seems that the three of you wouldn't be able to hangout, as the two of you sit on the couch.

Grumbling, you hug the couch pillow close to your chest as you glance at the text message left by your friend. It was upsetting but you couldn't be that upset since he rarely wasn't able to come in your hangout session, and since he's the one who helped you after all.

"Yeah, you're right. It can't be helped, I guess…" you sigh, trying to hide your disappointment as you sink further into his couch. The soft fabric and cozy atmosphere of his apartment help ease your mood a bit.

"I'm sure the three of us will meet up soon. Plus, the two of us haven't hangout for a while."

Come on, it's not so bad to be alone with him, you know?

"Yeah, that's true," you say, trying to shake off the disappointment. You steal a glance at him as he queues up a movie. It's been a while since the two of you just hung out alone like this, and despite the change in plans, it feels nice.

As the movie starts, you realize he accidentally picked a horror film—complete with dark shadows, creepy music, and plenty of jump scares. You’re both laughing it off at first, but the sudden shocks get you clutching the couch pillow a bit tighter, scooting unconsciously closer to him.

The atmosphere shifts when an unexpected scene appears—a moment that’s more... explicit than either of you anticipated. You feel your face heat up as you quickly avert your eyes, feeling a mix of embarrassment and tension settle between you. You catch him glancing away too, clearing his throat nervously.

What is he, five? Getting flustered with such scene, not like he hasn't done any worse than it.

"I... think I need to use the bathroom," he mumbles, standing up hastily and heading out of the room, leaving you alone on the couch.

You’re left there, pulse racing slightly as you try to shake off the awkwardness.

This is bad, you suddenly remember all of your other friend's help. Clutching your legs close, you try to avert your attention somewhere while waiting for your friend to come back.

Though, you felt your stomach drop as that familiar and unwelcome touch came up.

***

What the hell is he even thinking?

He tries to find his reason as he stares at the onahole on his hand, that idiot's gift to him. It's been a week since he had last use this thing, yeah it felt good and feels like the real deal but after one use he never touched it again.

So why the hell is he using it while thinking of you? The same girl who's sitting on his couch right now, in his apartment?

His eyes glance at the lube on the counter, putting the wet lotion on his free hand. It's your fault he got hard, you were too squirmy and... cute. That shitty horror movie wasn't even that good with the corny soft porn scenes but you... were just having an effect on him. So damn shy and innocent reactions, he needed to get out before he'd lost his composure and pounce on you.

But he's not a brute, no he isn't like those rabid animals.

Imagining does not count, no, no, he's only letting his frustration out.

So with the touch of his fingers, rubbing the entrance of the onahole he let himself go.

***

Jumping from the couch, you looked around frantically as you felt that horrifying touch on your nether region. 

That's impossible! You though he already fixed it!

Silently crying on your hands, you tried to keep your noises.

You've experienced that ghostly touch countless times however this time, it felt a bit calculative yet desperate, as if another entity was touching you. It felt weird but you can feel how different this one was touching you.

Is there another ghost who's harassing you?

Will it ever go away?

You cried as you felt something big goes inside you.

***

Shit, he forgot how realistic this onahole was. When was the last time he used it? Weeks ago? He doesn't remember but he might use it again now. Since his darling is always inviting him to hangout, this little gift might save him from pouncing on you when you're just a little too cute for his liking. Not only that but because of the hectic projects and assignments coming in, he hasn't had the time to relieve himself.

His thrust is fast and uncaring, yet a bit desperate for release. He felt himself feeling more sensitive as he imagine if this was your cunt instead, squeezing and twitching around his cock. He loves how automated this thing was, his mind just running wild as he imagines you sitting alone in his couch unsuspected of his vulgar and filthy thought of you. It's wrong but it damn this onahole just feels so right.

Slamming himself on the tight hole, he pinch the little clit and felt the walls squeeze tight making him come undone. Hissing and twitching as his cock shoots down his massive load inside the toy. What a waste, it would've been better if he could shoot it down your womb. Exhaling, he slowly pulled out of the toy, savoring the way the wall clung on his shaft before his head pops off.

Fuck. He's really a goner now. 

He's no better than a scumbag for letting his mind wander to thoughts about his best friend, his childhood friend… his first crush, his first and only love. He remembers how he was when you two first met—a boy who struggled to connect with anyone. He didn’t see the point in making friends, preferring to stay on the sidelines, reserved and detached.

Though, him, was the exception as both of their parents were business partners and have good relationship with each other. It's only natural for them to build a connection, solely for maintaining good connections with their business partners. Over time, he realized how strangely alike the two of them were, as if they shared the same quirks and preferences.

Well, he shouldn't think of that while thrusting his dick on a toy but he can't help but reflect on the way they are alike. He certainly knows, that guy shares the same affection he has on you, and he hated how he can't feel jealous because... he's fine with sharing you if it's him. But he's a little pissed at how you two were hanging out lately, he only have himself to blame by taking his studies seriously unlike that guy.

That's not important now, he has you in his room alone with no one else to ruin your moment with him. Shit, he felt the toy tighten around him.

His mind goes blank as he felt himself getting closer.

***

"Hey, sorry I took a while, but I'm... back?" he said, sitting down on the couch. His voice trailed off, quieter and confused, as he noticed you hugging yourself with your head hung low.

"What's wrong?" he asked immediately, placing a hand on your back as he tried to see your face. His eyes narrowed as he waited for your response, only to widen when he saw your tear-streaked face.

"I-It... touched me again..."

"What do you mean?"

And you broke down, crying as you told him about the phantom.

Any sane person would be skeptical, hell they would probably put you in the asylum for the things you swore happened to you. He'd get you help if it weren't for that one specific detail, an oddly timed and complete coincidence. Where that phantom touched you the same time he had gotten the toy... and the way it touch you just minutes later he went to the bathroom.

No way...

Surely, it was just a coincidence...

He supposed testing that theory wouldn't hurt.

With a lousy excuse of getting you a glass of water from the kitchen, he went straight to the bathroom to take that toy, sure it was big enough to be seen by you, but the way you were staring down on the floor as you quietly sob made it easy to sneakily place the onahole behind the couch pillow. Close for his hand to touch but unnoticeable from your teary eyes.

His hand goes behind the pillow right where the toy is.

"Ah!"

It can't be... Such an impossible story.

"J-Just now... it touched me!"

His finger went in.

"No! It went inside...!"

This is crazy.

He knows it's wrong but watching you panic and look around with frantic and terrified eyes made his cock throb. Not knowing that the source of your trouble being right in front of you made it immoral, so bad, and it made his cock harden.

"Hey, I'll... chase out that bastard for you." His wandering finger pulls out of the toy, his other hand cupping your tear stained cheek, "You don't have to worry anymore. You said that guy made that phantom disappear, right?" He sweetly cooed, a rare tone in his voice, "Just trust me on this one like he'd done with you, yeah?"

Your back gently hits the couch as he straddles you, "Be a good girl and relax, I'm just going to help you."

Doubt and wariness swirls in that doe eyes of yours. He can see the uncertainty in that stupid head of yours, but he knew you'd agree with him. You always do.

"O-Ok... Please help me."

And he's right about that.

You're just too trusting, aren't you? Stupid girl.

It's your fault he's like this to you.

All your fault.

There’s a faint metallic click as his belt buckle comes undone, and the soft rasp of fabric follows as he frees himself from his pants. His cock springs free, the swollen head brushing against your inner thigh. He can't believe he's finally doing this. The girl he ever wanted right beneath him, all bare and for him to ruin.

It's fucked up how he doesn't feel guilty for doing this, doesn't feel guilty as he rubs his tip on your wet entrance. Everything about you is soft, the only thing he's afraid to do is to bruise your pretty skin. He can feel your breathe quicken, you heart thumping in anxiety and he smiles at that.

"I'll be... gentle." For now.

The blunt head nudges against your entrance, the slick heat of your hole enveloping him inch by inch as he presses into you slowly. Fuck. It's completely different from a toy. He wished he'd done it sooner, the walls of your inside and the wall of the toy was like night and day. His cock pulses within them, the heat and tightness driving him to the edge of his patience. Hissing in pleasure as your walls clenched around him.

"So cute..."

With that, he leaned down, his lips pressing against you. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming you, owning you, just as his cock claimed your body. He knows he should let you adjust and wait for you to be ready but hell he'd wait for more than a second. Setting a fast pace, fucking into you with abandon, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave bruises-- the one he was dreaded on doing. He panted, his head thrown back in ecstasy. 

If it were that easy, he should've done this sooner. Manipulated that stupid head of yours, your naivety being the one who'd get you in trouble when you were younger.

It was different back then when he was alone. Socializing was unnecessary and draining, didn't have any purpose or value to him. He supposed having one friend is enough, he didn’t have patience for others, especially kids his age who, to him, seemed immature and exhausting.

Then you came along with your bright smile, bold laugh, and endearing quirks. You weren’t stunning or wealthy, and your background was humble—a stark contrast to his world. And yet, every time you called him by that silly nickname you made up, something in his chest stirred, an ache he couldn’t ignore. A foolish girl, treating him as if he were just another friend, another kid to play with.

So why can’t he push you away? You're just like any other kid who wants his attention. So why is it so hard to say no to you?

You're the one driving him crazy. So you only have yourself to blame, this is only happening because you're letting him. You're the one doing this to your self.

He could feel the pleasure building, the pressure in his balls as he neared his release.

"Be my onahole, ok?" He demanded, his voice rough with lust. He needed to hear you say it, needed to know that you understood.

Your mind was swirling, head foggy as the pleasure was starting to mix with the confusion. As your cries grew louder, body writhing beneath him, he felt his own orgasm approaching. He could feel the heat building, the tingling in his toes as his balls drew up tight.

O-Onahole? What's that? What is he talking about?

"Everyday, you'll be my onahole." he panted, his words punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh, the obscene squelch of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy. "I'll save you from that phantom, ok?"

I don't know anything....

"Ok?!" he warns, hips losing their rhythm as his climax approaches, "Shit...!"

"Ah! I-I will! I'll become your onahole!"

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside, his cock pulsing as he empties himself deep in your womb. He holds you tight against his chest, grinding into you to prolong the waves of pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," He praises breathlessly, peppering your sweat-dampened neck with kisses. "Taking my cock so well, milking me dry. That phantom is gone now that I'm with you."

All you could feel was the light kisses trailing on your neck to your cheek and finally on your lips.

"One more time? I mean you are my onahole now."

***

"Wow, you didn't hold one bit eh?"

His eyes narrowed as he saw him standing on the door with a smug grin.

"What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn't be able to make it?" His tone accessory as he cleans up the aftermath, gently tucking in your passed out figure on the bed.

"So defensive for what?" He chuckles, sauntering as he glance at your peaceful fresh-fucked face. Such a lovely sight. He  licks his lips at that but for now you'd need to get your beauty rest after a rough day. "So, did 'ya like your present?"

"..."

"I'd take your silence as a yes then." Giggling, he places his hand on his shoulder, "I knew you'd like it I mean, we are similar in taste after all."

His jaw tightens before sighing in defeat, "Where did you even get that toy?"

"Oh, some shady website~! I was planning to buy another one but the website mysteriously disappeared!" He exaggerate his movements which earned a grimace from him.

"Shut up, you'll wake her up."

"No, she won't. You made her pass out, how ungentlemanly of you."

"Says you."

"Whatever, I came to ask you a question," His hand drop to his side, his smug smile still on but something sinister behind it, "So, we're going to share, right?"

The answer should've been obvious but it was hard to let the word out of his mouth. Was it pride or possession?

"Yeah..."

"I knew you'd say that."

"But I want her on Mondays."

"Oh brother, why pick the worst day?" He grunts in disappointment.

"Because it's the worst day, I need her on that day."

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: i caved and did an actual Ewan fic! Given that the lad is more of a public persona nowadays, I reckon it's fine (?) This is pure self-indulgence for all my Ewan loves. May have a continuation but idk for now, enjoy!!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader and Ewan are paired for press interviews. Despite barely having any scenes together and only knowing each other in passing on set, the chemistry they share cannot be denied...

Your first round of press takes place in a primped up hotel suite in Paris, thanks to the team at HBO.

You are an up and coming actress, much like some of your costars in the show, but the pressure is heavier on you because you were entering in season two, whereas everyone was already well-acquainted with one another.

Your few scenes were mostly with Jace and Baela, so you grew close to Harry and Bethany.

However, the media team decided to pair you up with Ewan for the day. A little fun initiative was set by the team that a character from the Blacks would be do press with a counterpart from the Greens - hence, yourself and Ewan.

You're nervous as you walk down the hallway, unable to fully pay attention to the instructions your lovely assistant gives you.

She tells you about the different interviewers for the day, bloggers and magazine writers from all over the world. She reminds you that each one will only be for a maximum of 5 minutes, so it shouldn't be too complicated. She smiles and eagerly says, "Take a deep breath, you got this!", as you reach the suite doors.

But in your mind, all you can recall is your first interaction with Ewan, almost a year ago right after the table read. You had nervously blurted out to him that Aemond is your favourite character, after he just asked, "How are you?". He laughed, said thank you, before he was pulled away in conversation by Tom.

You pray to the fictional Westerosi gods that things will fare better today. That you won't get all tongue-tied when those steel blue eyes land on you.

Upon entering the room, the team is quick to fuss over you. Sometimes you forget that you're actually an actress now. A celebrity, some might say. It all feels surreal and you have a inkling it won't ever stop being this way.

Ewan is already seated in front of the camera, and he stands to give you a hug as you finally walk over.

"Hey there, how are you?" he smiles widely, smelling like cigarettes and something muskier as he wraps his arms around you.

Unroll your tongue. Rework your brain. Calm down.

"Hey, Ewan!" you respond. "I'm doing great, happy to see you again."

"Well, I only wish we could have had more time together on set." Ever the gentleman, he gestures for you to take your seat before he does the same. "But next season perhaps? Who knows?"

"Oh, sure." You settle in, pleased by the fact that your chairs are only about a foot apart. "We can both look forward to my character giving Aemond the arse kicking he deserves."

He laughs, eyes glinting with mischief. "Come on now, I was thinking our characters are actually quite compatible, no?"

"Well, I sure wouldn't want to step on Alys' shoes. She'd probably curse my character all the way to Yi Ti."

"Hmm," he hums, biting his lip. You can't help but hear Aemond when he does that. "I say you can always count on Aemond and Vhagar to come to the rescue of a beautiful maiden such as yourself."

Well, you'll be damned. Ewan, while still an introvert of his own sort, is as charming as can be. If he's turning it on to get himself hyped for the press, it's working.

It's definitely working on you, to say the least.

The media manager gives the signal for the first interview to begin, and a reporter walks in, all ready with prepared script in hand.

"Here we go," you mutter, facing forward.

"Good luck," Ewan replies.

You both shake the reporter's hand, and he introduces himself as Jared.

"So guys," Jared begins. "Why don't we start with you telling me a little bit about what we can expect from your characters this season?"

The question is easy, and it doesn't take long for you and Ewan to think it through. Jared asks a few more basic questions, before drawing the attention more to you.

"When you watched season one, did you have a favourite character?" he asks you.

You smile, "Oh, I mean, I have to say - and Ewan already knows this, by the way - that Aemond was my favourite character."

"Was?" Ewan says, feigning shock. "Unacceptable."

"Was... Is... " you shrug, rolling your eyes playfully, earning a laugh from Jared. "I think I might be more a Daemon girl now."

"Oh!" Jared exclaims happily. "Does Matt know about this?"

"I'll be sure to tell him - "

Ewan interjects, shaking his head at you, "There's no need to tell him, because I'll convert her back to Team Aemond in no time, trust me."

"Daemon is awesome, though," you say to him, smiling.

"Sure." Ewan makes a face like that fact doesn't matter. Wasn't he the one who said that Daemon would be the character he would most like to play if not Aemond?

"And Caraxes is my favourite dragon." You share a look with Jared, hoping he would agree.

"Yes!" Jared says. "Caraxes is the best dragon in the show, in my opinion."

"Ah, you're both wrong," Ewan says. "My Vhagar is the oldest and baddest dragon in all of the land."

"My Vhagar, he says," you joke. "Seems like someone still hasn't shed Aemond for this press tour."

"And I never will, darling." His gaze is intense when he turns to you, and you clear your throat to fight the warmth rushing to your cheeks.

"Alright, they're giving me the wrap-up," Jared thankfully breaks the tension. "It was a pleasure talking to you guys, congratulations on the new season!"

One interview down, and your nerves have already considerably subsided. Ewan tapping your arm to start up a conversation once more surely helps in distracting you.

In the best damn way possible.

"How do you think we did? That wasn't too bad, was it?"

"I think we did quite well," you casually offer a high five, but your heart skips a beat when Ewan interlaces your suspended hands for just a moment.

"I'm glad they paired me with you," Ewan says, after releasing your hand. You hold on to the armrests to keep your fingers from twitching.

"I am, too," you admit. "I am a fan of you, after all, but I think you already know that."

He blushes, "Well, that's not a bad thing. I think you're a fantastic actress. I must have seen your first film a good ten times."

"You mean my first and only film," you add humbly. "But thank you."

"Only film for now," he affirms. "No doubt this is only the beginning for you, darling. With your talent and your charisma, I'm sure you have potential scripts piled up already."

"I could say the same for you! Have you seen what your fans say about you online? You're the internet's new boyfriend, Ewan Mitchell."

The media manager announces the next interview, but Ewan follows up with a response for you under his breath, "I have seen some things. But when I have a girlfriend, I'll make sure she won't have to share me at all."

Oh, so apparently he is single. But wait - why is he telling you this?

You don't get to mull over that thought. For the time being, the next interview starts and you make sure you do a good job at what you're paid to do - promoting the series.

Not daydreaming about getting with a costar, for heaven's sake. Stay professional.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

You feel lightheaded after finishing the seventh - or had it been the eighth? - interview.

Your assistant delivers a coffee to you during the twenty-minute break. Ewan had stepped out to the balcony to have a smoke, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

He certainly is everything you expected him to be, and so much more. Insightful, cheeky, dedicated. An artist, through and through. He was in the business for all the right reasons, passion and respect for the craft.

If he had any flaws, you weren't privy to them yet. If there are any reasons for you not to be attracted to him, you didn't know what those were yet.

And with every flirtatious remark and pointed smile, you can't deny the hope blooming in you.

"Hey," he reappears, pulling you out of your musings. "I hope you don't mind that I smell of smoke."

No, you didn't, not when it's him.

"Don't worry about it," you reassure him. You tilt your head forward to take a sip of your coffee, but a lock of your hair falls in front of your face. Annoyed, you think to reach for it, but Ewan beats you to it, tucking it back in place.

"There you go, darling," he croons, gesturing for you to proceed in drinking.

"Th-thanks." His eyes don't leave yours as you take a slow sip.

"So," you say, desperate to break the silence, "which interview did you enjoy the most so far?"

"How can I possibly choose? I mean, I really liked the one with ComicSociety, the guy that said our characters have a lot of chemistry and should get together next season. He's right, I already told you!"

"Ohhh, sure, that will go down really well with the Blacks and Greens."

He smirks, "I don't see why not?"

"For one, Aemond is ensnared by Alys, and my character will never give up fighting for Rhaenyra. I just don't see it happening, Ewan."

"Right," he mutters thoughtfully, "there is still Alys in the picture."

"Still in the picture? With the amount of steamy scenes you two have lined up for season three, I'd say she will be Aemond's entire picture in and of herself."

"Hmm," he glances at you once, then looks down. Dare you think it, does he look disappointed?

"But hey," you add lightly, "maybe we can talk to Ryan and he can flip the entire script just for our characters."

"Yeah," his cheeky smile resurfaces, "maybe you can take Alys' place."

Take the place of Alys? Of Alys. Is he insinuating...

"Next round of interviews, guys!" The media manager announces to the room.

"Here we go again, darling," Ewan squeezes your hand once, before putting on his professional face once more.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

By the end of it all, not even caffeine can perk you up. You were exhausted, you and Ewan having finished four full hours of press.

Your assistant comes to your aid, ready to direct you back to your own hotel room.

"This has been such a pleasure, Ewan, really." You stand, this time initiating the hug.

He squeezes you gently, humming in your ear. When you pull apart, he says, "I honestly wouldn't mind trudging through hours and hours of press with you."

That's sweet of him. You're too tired to mask the warmth that rises to your cheeks. "And I feel the same. Today couldn't have gone any better."

"Truly, and listen, maybe we could - "

"Ewan!" The manager approaches. "I'm so sorry to rush with this, but we need to film just a quick soundbite with you for Aemond. Just two to three questions for the Max Tiktok account?"

"Oh, okay - " Ewan is reluctant to turn away from you.

"Perfect! If you could just stand there by the windows please..." The manager already has him by the arm, directing where he has to go.

"We have to go," your assistant says. "Still have to prep for tomorrow."

"I'll see you soon, Ewan!" you call out to him. "Thanks again."

He gives a half-hearted wave, dejected as he watches you walk out of the room.

"That wasn't too bad," you share with your assistant as you enter the elevators. "Not bad at all, actually."

"Oh, you did so well," she compliments. "It definitely helps with the press that you and Mr. Mitchell have such insane natural chemistry."

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

In the calm of your hotel room, you get ready for bed.

Just when you're about to finish with your nightly routine, your phone rings from your bedside table. You're quick to rush over, thinking it could be your assistant or your manager, with an urgent update about work.

But no - it's an unknown number. A UK number, as it appears.

Confused, you click answer anyway, putting it to your ear with a tentative, "Hello, who is this?"

"Hi, darling."

"Ewan?"

"Yeah, uhm, I hope I didn't disturb you - "

"Not at all," your answer comes out in a rushed breath.

"I also hope you don't mind that I got my assistant to ask your assistant to give me your number? It's what I wanted to ask you before you left today."

"Oh." You feel fully awake now, by some miracle, butterflies finding home in your stomach. "I don't mind. I... I should have given you my number, anyway. I have most of the cast's, in case I need to get a hold of you guys."

"Hmm, right," he says from the other end. You hear him calmly breathing, the sound strangely comforting, and wonder if he can hear the same from you.

He says, "I just wanted to keep hearing your voice. Didn't get enough of it today," and your heart just about stops.

"Oh. Okay," is all you are able to respond with.

"What are you doing?"

"Just... just getting ready for bed." Phone pressed to your ear, you shuffle around the room, putting some things back in place.

He says nothing for a few seconds, but you still hear his breathing, and some shuffling in the background. It occurs to you that he might just be as nervous as you are now.

Maybe.

"Listen," he finally says, "do you want to hear my pitch to Ryan about why our characters should get together next season?"

A genuine laugh escapes you. He sure is persistent. Playful, sure, but you're definitely willing to play along.

"Let's hear it."

"First," he says, "you have to renounce Daemon as your favourite character - "

"Not a chance."

" - and swear your love for Aemond."

"Keep dreaming."

He laughs, and you can only picture the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Aww darling," he teases, "don't you love me?"

💌 part two - part three

The OGs will know that the final line is a nod to my first ever Aemond fic! 🖤

Did this slightly delay my series works? Yes, yes it did. Do I regret it? For Ewan frickin Mitchell, I would never ~

[waitimcomingtoo]

The Way That You Were

Pairing: fratboy!Peter Parker x reader

Synopsis: you and Peter reunite at a college party and discover he is no longer the sweet nerd you knew in high school

Masterlist

“I’m gonna pee.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Your friend asked you over the sound of the music of the party.

“I’ll be fine. But hold my drink, please.” You kindly requested and handed her your red solo cup.

“Have fun.” She called after you as you left for the bathroom. You adjusted your dress and leaned against the wall as you waited on the bathroom line. You looked around the frat house you were in and decided the walls were not actually something you wanted to lean against.

“God damn. If your ass blew me away I cannot wait to see your face.” A voice suddenly came from behind you. You scrunched your face in disgust and turned around to see who the voice belonged to. Your eyes met a boy in a backwards hat with curls spilling out of it on either side. But what made you lose your breath was the fact that you recognized the eyes staring back at you. The smug grin on the boys face instantly dropped when he recognized you as well.

“Peter? Peter Parker?” You asked and felt your heart ache just a little. You both slowly processed what he had just said and he turned a bright red.

“Y/n?” He asked in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”

“My friend invited me. What were you saying about my face?” You asked and folded your arms.

“Nothing. Something stupid.” He said quickly before breaking into a smile. He suddenly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug. You blinked in surprise and hesitantly patted his back.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” He said into your ear.

“Neither can I.” You laughed dryly as you pulled out of the hug. You stepped back and took a moment to take him in. His arms were much bigger than you remembered from back in high school and you had a full view of them in his white cut off tank top. Everything about his outfit was different from his typical style, down to the shoes he was wearing. You would’ve thought he was wearing a costume if he didn’t look so natural.

“God, look at you.” He sighed as he looked you up and down. A dopey smile remained on his face and he shook his head as if he trying to shake a thought out of his mind.

“Me? Look at you. You look so different. What are you doing at a party like this?” You wondered.

“Oh, this is my frat house. We throw parties like this every weekend.” He replied and you laughed. He didn’t laugh with you and you realized he wasn’t joking.

“You live here?“ You asked as your eyes darted to the poster of a girl in a bikini riding a beer can barely covering a hole in the wall.

“That’s not mine.” Peter said quickly.

“The hole or the poster?”

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked to change the subject.

“I’m kinda waiting for something.” You laughed awkwardly and nodded towards the bathroom door.

“After? I’ll wait.” He offered. He seemed very eager to talk to you and you couldn’t deny that you had been desperate to talk to him ever since you graduated high school.

“Okay.” You agreed. “Sure.”

“Wait, don’t use that bathroom. It’s probably disgusting. It’s actually most definitely disgusting. I have a bathroom in my room. It’s much cleaner. Come on.” He said and nodded towards the stairs.

“Oh. Okay.” You looked around at who was watching before following him up the stairs. You stayed close behind him until the two of you reached his bedroom. You would never normally follow a guy up to his bedroom at a party without telling anyone where you were going but you grew up with Peter so you trusted him. You entered his bedroom and you discreetly took a look around. You’d been to his apartment in high school and were saddened to see his posters of the periodic table and Star Wars were replaced with patched up holes in the wall and a poster of Goodfellas next to a tapestry that said “Saturdays are for boys” over an American flag.

“I’ll guard the door.” Peter told you as he showed you where the bathroom was.

“Thank you.” You shot him a smile before going inside. Peter’s bathroom was much more akin to the Peter you once knew. You smiled at the miscellaneous artifacts on his bathroom counter and did what you came to do before leaving.

“Hey.” You smiled awkwardly at him when you left the bathroom.

“Hey.” He smiled back. “I kinda can’t believe you just used my bathroom.”

“I kinda can’t believe you have pink hand towels and Darth Vader shampoo.”

“Hey, hey, hey. That’s not Darth Vader. It’s the Mandelorian.” He corrected. “And they’re only pink because I washed them with my Chiefs jersey.”

“You own a jersey?” You raised at eyebrow at him.

“I do now that Taylor Swift said it’s okay to watch football.”

“You still listen to Taylor?” You smiled in surprise.

“Obviously. I was listening to Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus while I pregamed for this party.”

“Jesus.” You chuckled. “Who hurt you?”

“I just like the line about wondering.” He laughed as well but didn’t meet your eyes.

“So do I.” You admitted and he finally looked at you. You shared a moment of lingering eye contact accompanied by a comfortable silence. He looked different, and not just because of his outfit. He looked older. His baby face had hardened and he looked more like a man now and not the boy you once knew. But as different as he was, his eyes were the same. So was his laugh. And despite the years that had gone by without you seeing each other, you slipped right back into your friendship.

“Can I make you that drink now?” Peter asked after a beat.

“Okay.” You smiled and he slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Stay close to me. The people that come to these parties haven’t had all their vaccines.” He whispered in your ear as he led you back downstairs.

“I will.” You laughed and felt relieved his sense of humor was still in tact. A few people from Peter’s school turned to look at the two of you as you made your way to the kitchen but Peter didn’t seem to notice.

“This is the kitchen. All the healthy cereals are mine.” Peter said proudly and pointed to a box of Mini Wheats on top of the refrigerator.

“By healthy do you mean the frosted strawberry Mini Wheats?”

“Those really hit after a nightmare.” He insisted. “Plus, strawberry is a fruit and wheat is good for you. God, what do they teach girls in school?”

“Not the important stuff, apparently.” You laughed and he smiled as he caught your eyes. He pulled out a fresh red solo cup and got some ice.

“Do you still like Shirley temples?” He asked you.

“Yeah. You remember that?”

“Of course I do. I remember making makeshift ones out of sprite and strawberry syrup at Ned’s Halloween party Junior year because you told me they were your favorite.”

“Those were not bad.” You recalled. “Or maybe they just tasted better because I was 17 and drunk for the first time.”

“That was my first time drinking too. White Claw does not taste as good on the way out as it does the way in.” Peter grimaced and grabbed a beer from the ice bucket on the counter. You watched him crack it open with ease and felt an ache of nostalgia for those few nights of getting drunk as teenagers off alcohol from 7/11 that someone’s older brother bought.

“But I see you’ve outgrown White Claw.”

“Yeah. My friends and I pretty much only drink beer.” Peter nodded and took a swig of it.

“Don’t you worry about getting a…” You trailed off when Peter lifted his shirt to wipe his mouth with, giving you a full view of his abdomen. Peter’s sweaters and nerdy t shirts never let on that he was carved by the gods underneath his clothing.

“Beer gut.” You barely got the words out and blinked a few times to get back into reality.

“I seriously can’t believe you’re here. I always wondered what happened to you after high school.” Peter admitted as he made your drink for you.

“I know. I dropped my phone on the subway tracks a few years back and got a new number. But I always wondered about you too.” You told him.

“You did?” He smiled in relief.

“Of course I did. I tried to find you on social media but I couldn’t find anything.

“Yeah. I never really got the hang of it. I did try to find you in a phone book once. But the librarian called me a nerd and told me to go back to the 90s.” Peter replied, making you laugh.

“Well that wasn’t very nice of them.” You said.

“No it was not. So I am very pleased that I find you in my house tonight. That’s why I made you the most delicious Shirley Temple in the world.” Peter said and proudly held out the red solo cup.

“Oh, my. Thank you.” You giggled and accepted the cup from him. You took a sip and felt your eyes water.

“Jesus Christ. Is there any Sprite in here or just vodka?” You said through a cough.

“Sorry. That was out of habit. My boys and I are heavy pourers.” Peter sound genuinely apologized and added more Sprite to your cup to make it less strong.

“It’s all right.” You shrugged. “So I have to ask you, how come you’re no longer at MIT?”

Peter looked a little frightened when you mentioned MIT and quickly looked over his shoulder. He stepped closer to you and looked around again.

“I wasn’t happy there so I transferred last semester.” He said in a quiet voice.

“Why are we whispering?” You whispered back through a light laugh.

“People here don’t really know that I was like that.” He admitted and looked a little disappointed to even be saying it.

“Like what? Smart?” You asked at full volume. He looked around again and waved his hand in dismissal.

“I’m still smart. I just don’t let my boys know that.” He told you, making you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

“Your boys?” You laughed dryly.

“You know. My frat brothers.” He explained and gestured to the party.

“Right, right. I think I met a few tonight when I walked in on their farting contest and they asked me to join. Do you still talk to Ned?”

“Oh, no.” Peter shook his head. “We kept in touch for a while after high school but we kinda fell off somewhere after I transferred here.”

“Wow, really? You guys were so close. I thought you’d be friends forever.”

“Yeah. I guess I did too.” Peter realized and stared down the barrel of his beer bottle.

“Are you still studying biochemistry?” You asked him. “It was biochemistry, right?”

“It was. But now I’m undeclared. I’m not really sure what I want to do anymore.”

“Really? But you’re so smart. You were the smartest guy I ever met. You still are.”

“I’m not that smart.” He laughed and shyly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yes you are.” You insisted. “You always knew the answer to every question before I even processed what was being asked.”

“You’re smart too. In an original way that I still think about.” He replied, catching you by surprise. You took a sip to your cup for a little bravery and looked into his eyes.

“You still think about me?” You asked him with a coy smile.

“I do. All the time.” He answered without breaking eye contact. You sucked in a sharp breath and he smirked before moving same hair off your forehead. His hand stayed on your face and you felt your heart rate start to pick up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss him, it was that you had always wanted to kiss him. Now that he was standing in front of you and it might actually happen, you felt too nervous.

“Where are your glasses?” You blurted and ruined the moment. Before Peter could respond, me of his frat brothers walked in and clapped Peter���s on the back.

“Glasses? What’s this bird talking about, Parker?” He asked as he slung an arm around Peter and roughed him up a little.

“Shut up, Flash. She’s not a bird. She’s my friend from high school.” Peter defended you angrily and pushed the boy off.

“Oh shit. This isn’t the chick you were in love with, is it?” Flash gasped and looked at you.

“Who were you in love with?” You immediately asked Peter and felt a little jealous bubble up inside you.

“No, dumb ass. That was a different girl. This is Y/n. Don’t call her a chick either. Thats just another kind of bird.” Peter grumbled. Flash gave you an unapologetic once over before smirking.

“Nice to meet you, sweetie. I’m Flash. I hope you’re enjoying the party. But I do have to ask that you keep it down later because my room is right next to his and I have an 8 am class tomorrow.”

“Don’t, man.” Peter warned.

“Keep what down?” You wondered.

“Well, you know. Parker has girls in there so often I had to start charging them rent. Especially because they drink all the orange juice in the morning. And they tend to keep me up all night due to all the bed squeaking, so I ask that you’re considerate of the class I have tomorrow.” Flash said to you. You gulped and looked to Peter for an explanation, but Peter was busy glaring at Flash.

“Shut the fuck up, okay? Like you even go to class.” Peter scoffed. “Get out of here. Go drink some water. And take a bath. You stink.”

“All right. Just go easy on her, okay Parker? She seems like a nice girl. She deserves to be able to walk out of here in the morning.” Flash clapped him on the back again and you let out a shocked laugh.

“Fuck off. Now.” Peter demanded. Flash held up his hands and shot you a wink before walking away. You looked to Peter for an explanation for what just occurred. You have never heard him swear before and definitely never heard him get angry with someone like that. You also couldn’t help but wonder if there was any truth to what Flash had said about all the girls Peter slept with. You knew it shouldn’t bother you, but the Peter you knew had never even had his first kiss. Something about the guy you’d always pined after going from never being kissed to a guy with a long line of girls leaving his bedroom made your tummy hurt.

“I’m sorry about him. He’s such a dick sometimes.” Peter apologized to you.

“Yeah. I picked up on that.” You laughed nervously.

“Why’d don’t we get out of here? It’s too loud.” Peter’s said and gestured to the rest of the part. You sucked in a sharp breath and thought back to what Flash had just said. As much as you’d wondered about Peter, you were not ready to “get out of here” with him.

“I should probably get back to my friend.” You answered. Peter smiled politely and nodded in understanding but felt disappointed that your time together was ending.

“I’ll help you find her.” He offered and you agreed. You brought him to where you last saw her and found her making out with someone on the couch.

“Oh!” You said in surprise but your friend didn’t come up for sit.

“I think she’s okay for now.” Peter joked.

“I guess she is.” You agreed.

“Do you want to take a walk?” He asked and you felt relieved that he wasn’t asking to go back upstairs.

“Sure. I could use some air.” You agreed and followed him outside. The two of you walked down the sidewalk together and Peter stayed on the side facing the street to keep you from stumbling into it on accident. It felt easy to talk to him despite the years of being apart from each other and the longer you talked, the more you realized he hadn’t changed all that much. Sure, he swore a lot more now and made some dumb jokes, but his character was the same.

“Are you cold?” He asked you at one point.

“No. I’m okay. The fresh air feels good.”

“Good. Because I don’t have a jacket to offer you. But I would give you my jacket if I had one.”

“I appreciate that.” You laughed and looked over at him.

“So how long are you visiting your friend for?” He asked you.

“I go back to school on Tuesday.”

“So soon?” He stopped walking and frowned.

“Yeah. I’m just here for the long weekend.”

“Oh, shit, really? I was hoping we’d have more time together. I’d really love to see you again. Maybe we can get dinner tomorrow or something.”

“I don’t know.” You laughed nervously and folded your arms out of self consciousness.

“Why not?” He asked, sounding a little hurt.

“It was really good to see you again tonight. But I don’t think we have anything in common anymore, Pete.” You admitted without looking at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Look at us. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other. I don’t know if we’d get along anymore. Not like we did in high school, anyway.”

“Just because it’s been a long time doesn’t mean we won’t get along. We have history together. I’m still the guy you competed with in the decathlon.” He insisted. You looked up at him and stared at him under the light of the streetlight. He sounded like the guy you once knew, but he looked and acted so different now.

“Are you?” You asked quietly. Peter blinked a few times and smiled sadly.

“You don’t think so?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great and you seem happy with where you are now.”

“But?” He asked, sensing there was more. You smiled sympathetically because there was in fact more and it wasn’t exactly nice.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m just a little surprised to see you tonight. I always wondered about you and assumed you were halfway to becoming a scientist or Nobel prize winner by now. I never expected all this.”

“All what?” He asked, sounding a little annoyed now.

“You know. Frat boy. Undeclared. Chugging beer. Long line of girls coming out of your room…” You trailed off and looked down at the ground again.

“Flash was joking about that. The only time I’ve had a girl in my room was when we had to get a maid after the New Year’s party because there was an unidentified goo on the floors. I’m still me.” He insisted and stepped closer to you. You still didn’t look up at him because you didn’t want to say what you were about to say.

“You commented on my ass.” You said quietly. You didn’t see it, but Peter’s face dropped. He had felt annoyed that you were judging him until he remembered his opening line to you tonight was about your body. He felt guilty for reducing a girl he knew so well to an object for him to comment on.

“I’m sorry about that. I really am.” He apologized. “I’m way drunk right now and not using my head.

“The guy I knew in high school was not the kind of guy who says things like that to girls.” You said and finally looked into his eyes. To your surprise, he looked genuinely apologetic.

“I know. I’m not like those guys. I swear, I never normally say things like that. I’m drunk and a fucking idiot. I’ve made a total ass of myself all night. What can I do?”

“Peter, it’s fine. I’m not here to judge you. And you don’t owe me anything. I’m being stupid anyway. I’m not the same person I was in high school so I don’t know why I expected you to be. Thats not fair to you. I guess I’m just little drunk and upset I never got to see my Peter again.”

“Your Peter?” Peter asked with a sad smile.

“Come on, Peter. I was crazy about you back then. The whole school knew. By senior year, everyone had figured it out but you. And I always regretted not telling you. So I’d fantasize about all the cool things you were doing in college. This just isn’t what thought it would be like when we found each other again.”

“For me either.” He admitted as he stared at you starry eyed.

“No?”

“I liked you too. You were the girl Flash was talking about. I was in love with you in high school.” He confessed. You knew you should be happy to hear that but all you could think of was the wasted potential of a relationship that never got to happen.

“You never told me.” You said softly.

“How could I?“ He laughed. “You were so beautiful I could barely get an intelligent word out when you were around. You still are. And I still can’t.”

“I wish I knew. Now I’m always gonna wonder what would have happened if I had just told you how I felt.” You smiled sadly.

“So will I.” He said as his eyes filled with sadness. You stared at each other for a moment with the quiet understanding that at one point you wanted the same thing at the same time.

“Maybe we don’t have to wonder.” Peter said after a beat.

“What do you mean?” You asked him. Peter stepped closer suddenly and tilted your chin up with his pinky.

“Please.” He pleaded. “Just give me one night. I’ll take you to dinner and prove I’m still me.”

“And suppose you do.” You shrugged. “I’m only here for the weekend. What does it matter anyway?”

“It matters to me. Because I’ve always wanted you. Even if I just get one night.”

“Peter, I’m not trying to be one of your girls.” You shook your head and stepped away from him.

“I told you. There are no girls. You are the only girl who has ever taken my breath away. I never stopped thinking about you after high school. Just give me one chance.” He asked and pulled you back into his arms. You stared into his eyes for a moment and found yourself unable to say no.

“Please.” He whispered and sounded irresistibly desperate. You could see his gaze dropping to your lips and felt your heartbeat pick up again. But this time, you didn’t feel nervous.

“I shouldn’t.” You said quietly.

“But don’t you want to stop wondering and know for certain?” He asked, and you nodded. Your eyes fluttered shut and just as you were expecting his lips to meet yours, he cupped your face and kissed your cheek.

“I’m not going to kiss you tonight. Because I’m drunk. And you’re not.” He said when you looked at him in confusion. You were disappointed to not be kissed but smiled knowing he made the responsible decision.

“Oh. Yeah. Good call.” You cleared your throat and stepped out of his embrace.

“But I will be on my best behavior tomorrow for our date.” He assured you.

“I never actually agreed to a date.” You smiled coyly. Peter grinned and pulled you back into his arms and let his hands rest on your hips.

“You agreed when you closed your eyes to kiss me.” He said with his face close to yours. You gulped again but never broke eye contact with him.

“You’re kinda an asshole now.” You teased him.

“Yeah, but in a good way.” He shrugged, making you laugh.

“We’ll see.” You said pointedly. Peter pulled put his phone and handed it to you.

“We will see.” He insisted. “Here. Put your new number in. And don’t drop it on the subway this time.”

“I won’t.” You playfully rolled your eyes and typed your number into his phone. When you handed it to him, your hands touched as he took it back.

“You better not.” He said and slipped his fingers into yours as he pocketed his phone. You stared into his big brown eyes and felt like you were right back in high school.

“You could kiss me, if you wanted to. I had a drink too.” You said in a soft voice.

“I do want to. But I’ll save it for when my lips don’t taste like cheap beer.” He said with a smirk. He leaned in and kissed your cheek one more time before walking you back to the house. You stepped inside the frat house and just as your friend was heading to the door.

“Hey. The guy I was making out with tried to explain the stock market to me and laughed when I said I’m an economics major. I’m over this party. Are you ready to head out?” She asked you as she slung her purse over her shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. We can go.” You replied and felt disappointed to leave Peter so soon.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned down and whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Goodnight.” You said as you turned around to see him.

“Goodnight.” He replied and cupped your chin one more time.

Ten minutes after Peter said he would pick you up, he still wasn’t there. You checked your phone for the hundredth time as saw the minutes adding up. You should have known it was all too good to be true and he wasn’t the exception he claimed to be. He joined a frat and they poisoned the once sweet boy you knew. Just as you were about to go inside, Peter sped down your block and rolled down the window.

“I’m late. I’m sorry.” Peter called out the open window. Since he didn’t even bother to get out of the car, you got off the front steps you were sitting on and bent down to look at him through the window.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming.” You said and didn’t try to hide your annoyance.

“I’m sorry.” He said and pouted. “God damn. You look hot.”

You opened your mouth to scold him for objectifying you once again but he wasn’t done yet.

“I’m so sorry I was late. I bet you spent a long time getting ready dry. And I’m sure you’ve been waiting for a long time. I remember you saying you get ready with time to spare and sit by the door until the person picking you up gets there so they don’t have to wait outside for long. And I’m an asshole and came late.”

You had planned to walk away and go back inside to punish him for being late, but you just couldn’t. Him remembering that little detail about you combined with the way he looked in his jersey made you want to stay.

“Well maybe I’ve changed.” You said pointedly as you climbed into his car.

“You have. High school you didn’t wear rings or have sexy red nails. But I figured some things would stay the same. Hello.” He greeted and leaned in to kiss your cheek. You felt your face burning and turned away so he wouldn’t see your smile.

“I thought some things would stay the same too. Yet I met you last night with a backwards cap on. The Peter I knew wouldn’t never be caught dead in a hat. Let alone one representing a sports team.” You teased him.

“It’s not actually a sports team. Look.” Peter took his eyes off the road to reach into his backseat and get his hat. He handed it to you and your eyes widened.

“Oh my God.” You said as you turned over your old black hat you got at the Gap freshman year.

“You let me borrow that at the senior skip day at the beach because I forgot sunblock.” Peter recalled. “And when I tried to give it back to you, you said I could keep it since it looked better on me.”

“It did.” You smiled fondly at the memory.

“I wear it all the time now because I don’t know how to do my curly hair now that it’s longer.”

“I like it longer.” You told him. “But I also liked your short gelled look. With your cute little button downs and sweaters.”

“Yeah. I outgrew those.” He chuckled. “I started working out more and they looked silly on me once I got bigger. Then Flash showed me how to cut my shirts to show off my arms.”

“Yeah. I can’t imagine those arms in a little sweater.” You agreed.

“What about my arms?” He looked over at you with a smirk.

“Nothing.” You said coyly. “Where are we going, anyway?”

“It’s a surprise. But I’ll give you a hint. You wrote about it in your letter to your college self.”

“What?” You laughed in surprise. “Do you have a photographic memory of something? I don’t remember anything I wrote in that.”

“I told you. I was in love with you.” He said and looked over at you. You locked eyes and smiled until a car hocked at him for drifting into their lane.

“How come you’re so comfortable saying it now yet I had no idea back in high school?” You wondered. Then Peter got a text and pulled out his phone to read it. You eyed him but didn’t say anything as he replied to the text while driving. You’d never been in a car with him behind the wheel before and it was starting to make you a little nervous.

“I don’t know. You’re different too.” He answered finally. “I can tell from looking at you. So I guess I don’t feel like I’m telling the girl I was in love with how I feel because I don’t really know you anymore. It makes it less scary.”

“I didn’t think about it like that. You’re right. I guess we don’t know each other anymore.” You said with a sad smile.

“I want to, though. Because you seem like a cooler version of the girl I liked in high school. Who was already cool.” He said and looked over at you again. You smiled at his compliment and stopped worrying about hai driving for a moment.

“I have so many questions for you.” You to him.

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you leave MIT?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t what I thought it would be. I realized I was a big fish in a small pond back in high school. Everyone seemed so much smarter and more experienced than I was. I felt so alone all the time. So I drove home one night and never looked back.”

“Yeah. I get that. I was always told I was a smart kid growing up and then I just felt so burnt out in college. At least you know you got into MIT and gave it your all.

“Thank you for saying that. I like the way you see things. I’ve been missing your perspective in my life.” He told you and you felt your face heat up again.

“How’d you end up at your new school?” You said to distract him from how flustered he made you.

“They had offered me a full ride if I joined the academic decathlon team. Which I do in secret. Don’t tell my frat please.” He chuckled and looked at you to see if you’d keep his secret. You feigned a smile and internally missed the boy who was a proud captain of the decathlon team.

“How’d you end up in a frat anyway? That seems so opposite of your personality.”

“It kinda happened by accident. I was in a group project with Flash and he invited me to a party after I did his half of the work. And it wasn’t the worst once I had something to drink so I started going to more parties. And then I started drinking a lot. I made friends with a lot of frat guys that Flash knew I so ended up pledging.” He shrugged. You nodded your head but were less than impressed with his story. You and Peter had shared many conversations about not wanting to be at the parties you were never invited to anyway back in high school and now he was the one throwing them.

“I still can’t wrap my head around you being in a frat. I really never imagined you’d be into something like that.”

“How did you imagine me?” He asked with a coy smile.

“I imagined you’d be student teaching a biochemistry class and have a devoted fan base of nerdy students who hung on your every word like in Dead Poets Society. And you’d have circular glasses and wear ties and cardigans like Spencer Reid.

“Wow, Dead Poets Society. I totally forgot about that movie. I haven’t seen it in forever.”

“Really? I thought it was your favorite movie?”

“It used to be. I just watched this movie last week where Seth Rogan and one of the Franco brothers were smoking weed and then they witnessed this murder so they were worried the murder was gonna find them-“ Peter started laughing as he remembered the plot but stopped when he noticed you weren’t laughing along with him. The plot was far from the science fiction films he used to talk extensively about during lunch in an effort to convince you to watch them. It wasn’t much, just another reminder of how different he was from when you knew him.

“It was stupid. Anyways.” He changed the subject. “What have you been up to lately? How’s school?”

“School is good.” You shrugged. “I don’t know how I’ll ever work a job once I graduate because now having one class at 12 pm drains me for the remainder of the day, but I enjoy it. I like the freedom.”

“Good, good. I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I like the freedom too. I can eat macaroni at any hour and no one can tell me otherwise. And your friends are nice?”

“Yeah. I’ve found a good group of girls. It was really lonely at first like you said but I eventually found my people. It’s been a lot better now.” You answered as your eyes watching his thumbs type something on his phone. You looked at him in confusion but he was too busy switching back and forth between watching the road and texting to notice.

“I totally get that. I ate alone so many times that I started it get used to it. But it gets better when you find a few good people to spend time with.” He said after a minute. You nodded your head and tried not to be bothered by how distracted he was.

“Are your frat brothers good people?”

“I know you probably have a million and one presuppositions about frat guys but I promise we’re not as bad as you’ve been told. Lots of frats are crazy and have those worst kind of guys in it but were not like that. We have a no bullshit policy.” He informed you.

“Oh yeah? What kind of bullshit do you not tolerate?”

“All sorts of bullshit. We just kicked a guy out last week because he cheated on his girlfriend. And we banned the girl from our parties because she knew he had a girlfriend and slept with him anyway. We do not tolerate that kind of bullshit. Plus, Flash told me they once found out a guy was a bully in high school so they took turns farting on his pillow and then he got severe pink eye and had to drop out of school for the semester. Isn’t that hilarious?”

“That’s nice to hear. Except for the fart stuff. That’s really gross. But not tolerating bullshit is cool. I guess I assumed all frat guys were Brads and Chads who chugged beers and creeped on girls. And I assumed that because a frat guy at my school had sex with a pumpkin and put it on his Snapchat story.”

“Ew, what?” Peter laughed. “Who uses Snapchat still?”

“That’s the part you found gross? Damn, how many pumpkins are you having sex with?” You teased him.

“A gentleman never tells.” Peter said poshly, making you laugh. He got another text and pulled out his phone to read it.

“Peter-“ You began.

“I can’t believe you’re in my car. Do you know how many times I tried to awkwardly ask you out in high school? But I was so vague you never realized? And now you’re just in my car and you smell amazing and I barely had to do anything.” He cut you off and grinned at you as he put his phone down. Every time you got annoyed with his behavior, he pulled you back in some compliment.

“Thank you. It’s my perfume.” You smiled and held your wrist out. Peter caught it with ease and held your wrist to his nose.

“Oh, wow. I like that.” He complimented. “Usually I wake up and walk into a cloud of axe body spray in every area of the house. You’re a nice relief from that.”

“Thank you. You smell good too.” You chuckled.

“Thanks. I stole Flash’s expensive cologne.”

“For me?” You gasped and touched your heart.

“Hell yeah.” He scoffed. “I’ve been waiting on this date since I was 14.”

“I never said this was a date.” You said out of the corner of your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure you did.” He said and dragged the word “pretty” out.

“You would have been on time if it was.” You teased him, making him look at you with narrowed eyes.

“Okay, yes, I was late.” He admitted. “But I had good reason.”

“And what was that reason?”

“I was setting something up.” He said simply.

“Really?” You smiled. “What is it?”

“You’ll see.” He said coyly.

“Okay. Weirdo.” You chuckled. “So, where are we eating?”

“I know this great burger place a few blocks from here. You’re gonna love it.” He replied. You nodded and head and smiled until he pulled out his phone again to answer another text. His car swerved into the other lane and he barely noticed, making you shoot him a look.

“Who are you texting?” You finally asked him.

“Nobody. One second.” He answered as his eyes flipped back and forth between his phone and the road. He started to drift again and a car honked at him as it passed by to get away.

“Peter, you really need to keep your eyes on the road.” You said as another car shouted something at him out their window.

“What was that?” Peter asked and looked up from his phone. You looked at him incredulously and let out a short laugh.

“If you have someone else you’d like to be talking to right now, maybe you should go be with them.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Babe, chill. I don’t have anyone else. I want to be here with you.” He insisted.

“Don’t call me “babe”. Its condescending. And you’re putting both our lives in danger because you’re so busy texting. And if you want to be with me, why are you so distracted by your phone?”

“I just needed to respond to something. Sorry. I won’t do it anymore.” He grumbled and put his phone away. His lack of an apology and heavy attitude in his voice was the final straw for you.

“Just pull over.” You told him.

“What? No. We’re almost there. I won’t text anymore.” He promised.

“Peter, pull over.” You said sternly. “I do not want to be in this car anymore.”

“I’m trying to take you on a nice date and you’re gonna bail because I answered a few texts?”

“Pull the damn car over.” You raised your voice. Peter rolled his eyes and pulled over to the side of the street.

“Before you get out-“ He began. Just then, his phone rang with a girls name on his screen and his face dropped. You raised your eyebrows at him and he smiled sheepishly.

“Answer it.” You dared him. Peter gulped and looked between you and the phone before picking it up.

“I’m sorry. One second.” He said and answered the phone. You scoffed in disbelief and glared at him as he took the call.

“Hello? No, I’m not doing anything. I can talk. What’s going on?” He asked into the phone. You had seen enough and got out of the car and started walking down the street. Peter watched you get out and opened his car door to talk to you.

“Where are you going?” He called after you.

“Peter, I’m not gonna sit here while you text other girls. I’m leaving.” You answered and continued down the street. He quickly explained his situation over the phone and hung up before running after you.

“Wait, please don’t leave. I’ll put my phone away.” He promised but you didn’t stop walking.

“You can text whoever you want. I don’t care. You’re just not gonna do it and think you can still take me on a date.” You told him before storming off. You turned the corner and started heading towards a nearby park.

“Wait.” Peter called after you so you walked even faster. He eventually caught up and caught you gently by the arm.

“Damn, you’re fast for a girl in heels.” He said as he caught his breath. You pulled your arm away from him and went into the park to get away from him. He caught onto you again and this time, you had tears in your eyes.

“Where are you going?” He asked. “What about our date?

“This was a mistake.” You shook your head and looked down.

“What? No it wasn’t.” He said, sounding genuinely hurt.

“Yes it was. Look at us, Peter. We don’t have anything in common anymore. I really liked you back then but you’re not that guy anymore. That guy wouldn’t show up late, call me “hot” and “babe”, text and drive, forget his favorite movie, stop talking to his best friend-“

“Oh. I get it.” He cut you off. “You’re disappointed because I’m not the same person I was when I was 17.”

“Yeah. Maybe I am.�� You snapped and folded your arms when you heard his attitude return.

“Yeah, well. You’re different too.” He insisted. “The girl I knew in high school was not this judgmental.”

“I am not judgmental.” You scoffed.

“Yes you are. You’ve been judging me since the moment you turned around at the party. Just admit it.”

“Maybe because you commented on my ass like you were one of the dickhead boys you used to make fun of I’m high school. God, what happened to you?”

“I said I was sorry about that.”

“But you still did it.” You laughed sadly. “And then showed up late. And then remembered things about me from high school. And then texted other girls. And then kept the hat I gave you. I don’t understand you, Peter. I can’t read you anymore. This is too confusing. And it’s all for nothing because I still go back home on Tuesday and we’re never going to see each other again.“

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” He said and put his hands on your shoulders. You were surprised by how desperate for you to stay he sounded since it contradicted his behavior thus far.

“I think it does, Peter. Goodbye.” You shook your head and walked away again.

“Wait. There’s snakes out there.” He called after you.

“No there’s not.” You called back. You kept walking through the park until you came across a picnic blanket surrounded by fake candles. Surrounding the blanket were printed out caricatures of celebrities strung up and tapped to trees.

“What is this?” You asked when you heard Peter come up behind you.

“Oh thank God. No one stole it.” He sighed in relief and walked over to the picnic blanket.

“Wait, you set this up?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah. Ellen’s Stardust Dinner turns out to be insanely difficult to get into so I made us one.”

“Ellen’s Stardust Dinner?”

“In your letter. I remembered you said it was your dream to eat there one day.” He said with a sheepish smile. You couldn’t help but smile as well and started to walk around to look at all the photos he had printed. Peter lingered behind you and kept a comfortable distance since you were upset with him.

“Is this Joey Graceffa?” You laughed and pointed to one of the pictures.

“I took some creative liberties with the celebrities I chose to showcase once I ran out of ones I knew you liked. Do you still like Dylan O’Brien?”

“Do bears still shit in the woods? The answer is yes. Sorry. That wasn’t funny.” You quickly corrected yourself and Peter snorted.

“It was a little funny.” He admitted. “Not really, though.”

“I see the entire cast of Modern Family made it.” You chuckled and touched one of the photos he had tapped up to a tree.

“Of course they did. It’s the best show ever.”

“You’re not wrong.” You looked over at him with a smile. Peter took that smile as a sign you were forgiving him and stepped closer to you. You could feel his presence behind you and turned around to face him.

“You set all this up for me?”

“I did. That’s why I was late.” He explained. “I started early but then I ran out of magenta ink so obviously I couldn’t print the rest of my photos despite them having no magenta parts.”

“What about all the texting?” You asked him.

“My aunt is getting a mammogram today. Her mom had breast cancer so she was really nervous. I was checking in with her. But don’t worry, she’s okay. She just called to tell me. And that doesn’t excuse me texting while driving which I normally never do but she was anxious in the waiting room and I didn’t want her to be alone with her thoughts.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” You said softly and immediately felt guilty for snapping at him.

“You would’ve told me to go be with her.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to see you before you left.”

“Well that’s very noble of you but it sounds like she needed you more than I did today.”

“Don’t worry. She insisted I come here instead. I would have just made her more nervous with my anxious pacing.”

You looked around at everything Peter had set up for you and all the details he had put in. You’d misread everything and judged him off of things you knew little about. You looked at him with guilt in your eyes and smiled sadly.

“I don’t know what to say.” You admitted. “You went through a lot today for me and I just threw a fit and stormed off.”

“I can’t say I didn’t give you good reason. I should have told you these things sooner. I’m just not good at this sort of thing. I wanted so badly to impress you that I ended up making you think I didn’t care.”

“Can we just start over then? And enjoy this set up you made?” You asked him.

“I would like that.” Peter smiled and sat down on the blanket. You sat down beside him and leaned into his side. Peter wasted no time in wrapping both arms around you, making you both fall backwards onto the blanket. You both laughed and stayed in each others arms as you rolled over to look into his eyes.

“I’m sorry I judged you.” You said and fixed his hair.

“It’s okay. I know I’m not what you thought I’d be.”

“You’re not. But you’re still you. You still have your heart and your humor. And those were always my favorite parts of you anyway. I don’t know why I got so hung up on the other things. Who cares what movies you watch or what you do with your free time now? None of that stuff matters.”

“Do you still like me? Even though I’m different?” He asked as he stared into your eyes.

“Look at what you did for me today. You’re not different. You just wear different clothes. I shouldn’t have been so quick to judge you. It wasn’t fair. And I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Honestly, I miss who I was too. I miss Ned. And being around people who know what amino acids are. And I missed you. God, I missed you so much. In the years since high school, there have been so many times when I’ve come across something I wanted to show you or thought something I wanted to tell you. I missed hearing your laugh when I made a stupid joke or hearing your thoughts on the bad movies I’d beg you to watch. I never made a friend like you again. And after a while, I realized I never would.”

“I never found someone like you either. No one ever had me like you did. I’ve been dreaming about the day we met again since the day I last saw you.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” He joked.

“Please. How could I be disappointed in this?” You playfully rolled your eyes and traced your fingertips up and down his arm. Peter reached forward and placed his hand on your face to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“When do you leave on Tuesday?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“Late. My train is at 5.”

“Maybe we can get breakfast then.” He suggested without looking at you as he laced his fingers through yours.

“I’d like that.” You smiled and started to lean in.

“I can cook it.” He added. “After we wake up in my room.”

“Don’t push it.” You chuckled and rubbed your nose against his as you got closer.

“I won’t.” He replied before closing the gap between you and kissing you. The kiss that was years in the making was worth every minute of the wait. His right hand found his way to your hip and he squeezed it.

“Maybe you can push it just a little bit.” You said against his lips. Peter took that as his chance to pull you by the waist on top of him and deepen the kiss.

“That’s how I know you’ve changed. Nice boys don’t kiss like that.” You said when you pulled away to catch your breath.

“Yes they fucking do.” Peter said against your lisp before pulling you back into a heated kiss. You weren’t sure how much time passed as you kissed him but you only stopped when you Peters stomach let out a loud growl. You pulled away and rolled onto your back as you both laughed.

“Sorry about that. We never actually got any food.” He realized.

“Oh yeah. Maybe we should go do that.” You said and rolled over to face him.

“Yeah. We probably should.”

Despite the agreement to get up and go get some food, neither of you moved. You just laid on the blanket and stared into each others eyes with a comfortable silence in the air.

“In a minute?” You suggested after a minute and Peter smiled before leaning in to kiss you again.

“In a minute.”

PSA: DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE. it’s never worth it. It takes one second to get in an accident. Any text can wait. Your life is more important

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

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@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

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@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

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@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[irisintheafterglow]

kid megumi starts a fight. you and satoru finish it.

being fresh out of high school while simultaneously taking care of a second grader was an interesting experience, to say the least. today was no different.

"oh my god; he what? i'll be there in a second, fucking hell," you sputter as you all but shoot upward from your desk, sweeping the post-mission paperwork to the side and grabbing your car keys from the bedside table. the car makes strained vrooms while you impatiently pump the gas pedal, accelerating down the street like a bat out of hell. swerving into the nearest parking space you could find, you forcefully swing open the door to the front office to find satoru waiting in a plastic chair. he mutters an exasperated oh, thank god under his breath before standing and taking your hand, leading you down the hall to the principal's office.

"is he okay?"

"he's fine, i promise." you look at him skeptically, remembering all the times megumi was "fine" yet had scrapes that satoru didn't know how to clean up. "i'm serious. i saw it myself. the nurse cleaned up his nose and iced the hit on his face."

"he got hit in the fucking face?" your jaw drops in shock and you quiet your voice to a hushed whisper outside the principal's office door. "what the fuck happened that he got punched in the-"

"fushiguro's guardians, please come in. we're ready for you," an irritatingly nasally voice calls from inside and it takes all of your willpower not to blast the door open until it's shredded to pieces. megumi's principal sits behind an obtrusively large wooden desk, with the boy sitting by one end and two empty chairs at the other. you immediately drag one of the chairs over to sit by his side, but a wrinkled hand stops you. "please sit across from him, not beside him. he must receive proper punishment and that begins with accounting for his own actions," the principal instructs you and you catch satoru's jaw clench in restrained anger. he wanted to tear the principal's head off for telling you what to do, especially since it was regarding megumi.

"i'll decide where i want to sit, thank you," you reply with forced politeness, sliding the chair next to a defeated megumi. he scoots as close to you as he can and links his pinky finger in yours. it's small, but you know he's trying to manage his anxiety along with yours. satoru shrugs indifferently at the principal but shoots you a proud wink when no one is looking. "they cleaned you up, yeah?" you ask megumi softly and he nods, wincing slightly when your knuckles lightly brush the bruise on his cheek. "i'm sorry, baby-"

"fushiguro instigated a fight with three sixth grade students, all of them older than him. we believe he may have developed issues dealing with his emotions, specifically anger," the principal informs you and you make a great deal of effort to wipe the glower from your face. "student witnesses say that he struck first, and-"

"do you know why he started the fight in the first place?" your eyes narrow on the scrawny, shriveled man behind the oversized desk and he shrinks away slightly.

"no, b-but we believe that violence should not be-"

"violence or not, shouldn't you be responsible for understanding why this occurred outright?" your voice is strained and tense, slightly shaky with repressed anger. you stare daggers into the old man's sunken eyes and catch satoru watching the whole scene with pride. here was a man who knew nothing about a child you considered your own, trying to argue that he started a fight for no reason when you knew megumi would never harm a bee, even if it stung him. before you're able to start a physical fight with the idiot school official that probably saw more board meetings than actual students, satoru's voice cuts in.

"forgive me, but i don't appreciate your tone-"

"we'll be sure to properly discipline him at home, sir," he states emotionlessly, and you wordlessly thank him for wrapping the meeting up quickly. after a few more glares and aggressive signatures on paperwork waiving the school of any responsibility for megumi's injuries, you walk out of the office with satoru's arm around your shoulders and megumi's hand grasping yours. "alright, firecracker. you fizzled out yet or do we need to take you to a kickboxing class real quick?" he presses a tender kiss to the side of your head, clearly unbothered by the way you barreled through that ridiculous meeting.

"put me in an empty field away from people, and i'll make a kickboxing class look like a fucking knitting circle," you mutter vengefully as satoru chuckles under his breath.

"alright, megs. you gonna tell us what happened or are we actually going to need to get you a therapist?" megumi glances off to the side, irritated, but you squeeze his hand once in reassurance that, no matter what happened, you'd figure it out together.

"they were hurting tsumiki," he says quietly and both you and satoru freeze, looking at each other in careful understanding. "she was saying it was just a joke, but i caught her crying while we were walking home."

"so, you decided the best option was to fight them," you say slowly. satoru's hand rubs loving circles on your shoulder and you ask the question you've been holding onto since he called. "well, did you beat them?"

"i did, and that's why everyone is so angry," the boy shrugs and you huff a tired exhale. "are you mad at me?"

"no, megs. i'm glad you defended your sister, but i wish you'd told us what was going on before acting on your own."

"yeah, we could have helped you," your boyfriend whispers and you elbow his stomach lightly. not yet, you mouth to him. let's drop him off first.

"the kids said they were going to get my parents involved. is that why you're here?"

"yes and no," satoru says, opening the car door for you as you slide into the passenger seat. he could have warped back to the school, but he'd silently indicated that he wanted to drive all three of you back. "yeah, we're here to come get you; but, unfortunately for those shithead kids-" you turn to face him in the backseat, a conniving smile creeping onto your face.

"we're not your parents, and we're gonna need those kids' names."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[cherryredcheol]

just one secret

tldr: you know what they say about assuming... a/n: reader is referred to as she/her/wife. this is as angsty as i'll ever be (and this isn't angst)

“okay, just make sure she doesn’t find out. i don’t want her to know.”

you stopped dead in your tracks. you weren’t trying to spy on mingyu and his phone conversation, honest. you had just woken up from a very peaceful nap and the plan was to go beg mingyu to cook for you, or at least pay for take-out. your blood ran cold hearing mingyu on the phone in the living room. you didn’t keep secrets from each other. or at least you didn’t keep secrets from him. you were under the impression it went both ways but suddenly you’re not sure. 

you knew you were jumping to conclusions. you’re not even sure what he was talking about. who he was talking about. it could be any other woman in his life, his sister or his mom. but how were you not supposed to spiral when you hear him whispering on the phone to god knows who about secrets? your stomach twisted uncomfortably. what were you going to-

“angel? you up? are you hungry?” mingyu was calling to you from the living room. he must’ve heard you down the hall. before you could even figure out what your next steps were going to be, he appeared in the doorway, backlit from the sunny windows, and you almost melted seeing him smile at you. but then that little voice in the back of your head reminded you mingyu was keeping secrets. 

“who were you on the phone with?” you had to play it cool, not wanting to alert him of your suspicion. you didn’t want to accuse him of something that was nothing. the best course of action here was to let him tell you. ask a few leading questions and let him fill in the blanks. if it really was nothing, he’d tell you. 

mingyu started walking towards you, holding his arms out for you. “it was no one, angel. are you hungry? i can cook or we can get take-out. what sounds good?” he had reached you at this point, wrapped you up in his arms where you stood stiff as a board. 

your thoughts were racing. why didn’t he tell you who was on the phone? what was going on? why was mingyu keeping secrets?

“angel?” he peered down at you, clearly waiting for your answer. 

you shook your head, clearing your thoughts, “i’ll eat whatever, gyu. i’m not picky.” you pulled yourself out of his arms, suddenly feeling suffocated by his embrace for the first time since you met him. “i’m going to shower real quick while we wait for dinner. okay?” 

you didn’t even wait for his reply before you abruptly turned and went back into the bedroom you had just come from. 

in the safety of the ensuite bathroom, you stripped and let your thoughts run wild as the shower warmed up. what was going on? things with mingyu had been so good for the last 3 years. you two were so in love, his members often complained about spending time with the two of you, citing nausea at the sight of mingyu’s lovesick eyes boring into yours. 

you jumped when you heard a knock at the door. 

“angel? can i come in?” you could hear the confusion in his voice. probably wondering why you had suddenly decided on a shower and not engaging in your usual bicker over what to eat for dinner. you two would go back and forth but mingyu always gave in to you, paying for your favorite take-out spot or cooking whatever you requested. 

you didn’t want to alert him to your strange behavior, still not sure exactly what was going on, “yeah, come in.” 

the door cracked open and he peeked his head in the steamy room, eyes searching yours for signs of what was wrong. he could sense it, of course he could. 

he entered the room fully now, not reaching out to you, but fingers twitching at his sides begging to touch all your exposed skin. he stayed respectful though, eyes never leaving yours. “um, i ordered your favorite sushi. hope that’s okay.” 

things were awkward, tense. “yeah. thanks.” 

mingyu sighed, “angel, are you okay? things were okay before you took your nap. did something happen? can i fix it for you?” he was desperate for answers, hating this distance between you two suddenly. he’s not even sure what was going on, he just knew you were not okay. 

you looked away from him, “yeah. i’m okay. just have a bit of a headache. i’m hoping this shower will help. thanks for ordering dinner gyu, i’ll be out soon.” you effectively ended the conversation, hoping he’d get the hint and leave. 

he did.  “okay, angel. love you,” he gave you one last lingering look before closing the door behind him. 

you did everything you could to drag the shower out for as long as possible but you knew you were being a bit ridiculous. mingyu didn’t deserve the cold shoulder and you’re not even sure if he did anything beyond having a suspicious phone call. pulling one of his shirts on over your head, you decided it was time to face him. if you stewed in your thoughts any longer you were actually going to go crazy.

the first thing you noticed walking out of the bedroom was the darkness of the apartment. all the lights were off and the sun had set while you were in the shower. had he left? 

“fuck!” 

that one little word pulled you out of your spiral. he hadn’t left, just turned off all the lights? you were confused, wandering down the hall pausing in the doorway to the living room, yep, lights off in there too. as you reached the kitchen you saw mingyu hunched over the kitchen table, trying and failing to light a candle in the middle of the table. one of many candles he had lit, you realized as you looked around the room. there were little candles all over the room, a soft glow illuminating the dark space. you could see that the sushi had arrived and mingyu set the table, making for a much fancier take-out night than you usually had. 

“hey,” you called from the doorway, softly to not scare the big, clumsy man holding a lighter above your dinner. 

he jumped anyway, spinning around to see you. he was apprehensive, nervous energy pouring off of both of you as you eyed each other. neither of you wanted to upset the other, doing this delicate waltz around each other's feelings. 

he smiled despite himself, “hey angel. feeling better?”

“what is all this?” you ignored his question, very confused as to what was going on. 

his hand went to the back of his neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed about all the effort he went to, “well, you said you had a headache so i thought you might like softer lighting in the apartment so your eyes wouldn’t hurt from the overheads.” 

you made him jump a second time when you burst into tears. mingyu stood there looking at you holding your face in your hands, sobs wracking your body, frozen for only a second before he jumped into action, crossing the room in long strides and holding you to his chest. you kept crying, the wet spot on his shirt growing larger and larger.

when your sobs turned to sniffles, he loosened his grip on you. pulling back only enough to look at your face. 

“what is going on, angel? please tell me so i can help.” he was pleading with you, begging even. it hurt him to see you upset like this, especially because he didn’t know what was causing it. 

you couldn’t look into his eyes, instead, you stared at his feet, clad in soft socks, one on either side of yours, caging you in. “why would you do all this for me when you’re keeping secrets?” you sniffled, tears pooling at your lash line, threatening to spill again. 

mingyu blinked, confused, “what are you talking about? what secrets, angel?”

you still couldn’t look at him, “i heard you on the phone earlier. you said, ‘make sure she doesn’t find out.’ what did that mean? and when i asked you who it was you said it was no one. are you keeping secrets from me, gyu?” you felt so small in that moment. all the air around you still as you waited for his answer. 

“angel,” he cooed at you. grabbing your chin and bringing your eyes up to meet his. “you heard me on the phone? that’s what you’ve been upset about this whole time? i didn’t even know you heard that.” 

“you still have not answered my question, mingyu.” 

he winced hearing you use his full name, “angel, i promise you i am not keeping secrets. well, just one. but i was going to tell you soon! it just wasn’t the right time.” 

you tried to back out of his grip but his arms tightened around you, keeping you against him. “we promised not to keep secrets.” 

he laughed, “i can’t exactly tell you about my plan to propose, can i?” 

you went rigid, “you better not be fucking kidding, kim mingyu.” 

“i’m not fucking kidding, angel. that was wonwoo on the phone earlier. he’s been keeping the ring hidden at his place for months. he’s dropping it off tomorrow and we had to coordinate when he could swing by because i didn’t want you to be here. didn’t want to ruin the surprise. guess that doesn’t matter anymore,” he laughed, squeezing you even tighter to him. 

you suddenly felt very stupid. and so guilty. how could you wreck his surprise like this? you felt like crying, “i’m so sorry gyu. i shouldn’t have assumed and now i’ve ruined the whole thing.” 

he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, “angel, you ruined nothing. you should’ve just asked me in the first place, though. could’ve saved yourself all this heartache.” 

belly full of sushi, comfort show playing on the tv, mingyu by your side, you have never felt more content. you loved this man so much and you couldn’t wait to be his wife. 

“wait, are you proposing tomorrow?” 

[amirasainz]

Can we please have more of little alonso? Like when she was born and nando holding her for the first time and the grid are confused where he is?

Or before the grid official meeting her, nanda showing them pictures of her and telling them about something cute she did.

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl 💚

The newest dad on the grid

Fernando stepped into the paddock for the first time in weeks, his signature confident strut unchanged, but there was something different about him—an energy, a spark, a glow even. The break he had taken from the Formula 1 season to welcome his daughter had rejuvenated him in ways no victory lap could. The paddock, buzzing with its usual pre-race fervor, quieted as drivers spotted Fernando.

“Nando!” came a shout from Charles, who jogged over with a huge grin. “Welcome back! How’s... the baby?!” His face lit up like a kid waiting to hear about Christmas morning.

Max, never far from Charles, joined with a smirk. “Yeah, Fernando, how’s fatherhood treating you? You look—different. Happier, even.”

Fernando chuckled, patting both of them on the shoulders. “Ah, much better than any race, I can tell you that. Yn, my little girl, she’s perfect.”

George approached next, Lewis in tow. “Alright, alright, hold on,” George said, adjusting his perfectly tailored shirt. “Are we finally going to see pictures of this famous Yn? Because the way everyone’s been talking, she’s already an icon.”

“Wait, don’t start without me!” Lando called, sprinting over, followed by Oscar, Carlos, and Pierre. The group was forming faster than a DRS train on a straight.

Fernando, laughing at the commotion, pulled out his phone. “Okay, okay, calm down. Let me show you.” He unlocked the screen and turned it toward them. The photo he showed was of a tiny baby swaddled in a soft pink blanket, her big brown eyes staring up at the camera with curiosity and innocence.

“OH MY GOD,” Lando exclaimed, practically squealing. “She’s adorable!”

“Look at those cheeks!” Charles leaned in closer, his face nearly pressed against the screen. “She’s like a tiny angel! I bet you can't stop kissing them.”

“She has your eyes,” Lewis said softly, his warm smile matching the tone of his voice.

Fernando puffed out his chest, clearly basking in the praise. “She does, doesn’t she? And she already loves motorsport. When I hold her and talk about racing, she doesn’t cry. She just listens.”

Max snorted. “Fernando, she’s like two weeks old. She probably just likes your voice.”

“She’s already your biggest fan, mate,” Carlos interjected with a proud grin. “Don’t listen to Max.”

Fernando swiped to another photo. This time, Yn was asleep, her tiny fist wrapped around Fernando’s finger. The group collectively let out a chorus of “Awwww!”

“She’s so small!” Pierre said, his voice unusually soft. “Like, her hand is smaller than your finger! How do you even handle her without being terrified?”

“It’s instinct,” Fernando replied with a shrug, though the softness in his voice betrayed his own awe. “The moment I held her for the first time, everything clicked. She’s everything now.”

As Fernando flipped through more pictures—Yn in a tiny onesie with a Formula 1 logo, Yn sleeping on his chest during a nap—the drivers grew more animated.

“Does she have a favorite team yet?” Lando teased, nudging Carlos.

“Obviously Aston Martin,” Carlos quipped. “She knows where her dad is.”

Fernando raised a finger. “Actually, she smiles the most when I hum the Spanish anthem.”

“Of course she does,” George said with a laugh. “Your baby, your rules.”

“Does she cry a lot?” Oscar asked shyly.

“Only when she’s hungry or tired,” Fernando said proudly. “She’s very calm otherwise. I think she’ll grow up to be very composed, like her father.”

“Yeah, sure,” Max muttered under his breath, earning a playful shove from Lewis.

The group continued to coo over the photos, and even the normally reserved drivers couldn’t resist commenting. Esteban smiled as he observed from a distance but eventually joined in, congratulating Fernando.

“You should bring her to a race one day,” Charles suggested.

“Yeah,” Lando added enthusiastically. “Imagine a tiny Alonso in the paddock, stealing everyone’s hearts.”

Fernando grinned. “Maybe one day. But for now, she’s better off at home with her mamá. She needs to be calm, not surrounded by all this chaos.”

As the drivers dispersed, Fernando was left with a lingering feeling of warmth. The camaraderie of the paddock had always been special, but now, as a father, he felt it even more deeply. Yn wasn’t just his world; she had somehow become part of theirs too.

Later, during the drivers' press conference, a journalist asked Fernando how it felt to be back after his short break.

“It feels amazing,” he said, his smile unshakeable. “But not as amazing as being a father. Yn is my inspiration now. Every lap, every corner—I’m racing for her.”

The other drivers in the room exchanged knowing smiles. Fernando Alonso, the fierce competitor, had softened in the best possible way. Fatherhood suited him, and they were all here for it.

[onlyangel4]

team papaya. op81. smau.

norris!reader x oscar piastri

when lando's actress sister attends her first race weekend fans can't help but notice that she is close to a particular australian

faceclaim: ella purnell

y/nnorris

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,432,203 others

y/nnorris: filming just wrapped, what am i suppossed to do with my life now

view all 34,293 comments

landonorris: you could always come watch your fav sibling race

y/nnorris: flo is doing a horse race?

user1: y/n is fucking brutal

oscarpiastri: monaco is next weekend....

y/nnorris: i am picking up what you are putting down mister piastri

alexandrasaintmleux: please please please come to monaco, you can meet leo

y/nnorris: now you have sold me

user2: y/n norris is ready to steal all the wags

user3: i really hope we get y/n race content

y/nnorris posted a story

written: am i one of the cute insta girlies yet

y/nnorris posted a story tagging landonorris

written: i surprise lando by showing up in monaco he comes over takes a picture with me like i'm some fan before realising "Oh shit that's my sister" fucksake

ln4updates

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 43,293 others

ln4updates: after confusing his sister for a fan lando norris has brought y/n norris to the monaco grand prix. this is y/n's first race due to her very busy acting schedule. i am so happy to finally see her in the paddock!

view all 2,384 comments

user4: i am forever forgetting that they are related

user5: i hope we get y/n in the paddock more

user6: she is so cute omg

y/nnorris posted a story

written: i'm a proper mclaren girlie now

landonorris replied to your story: who took this picture, did you bully one of the interns

y/nnorris: oscar did

landonorris: hmmm...

y/nnorris: what does that mean?

landonorris: hmmm...

y/nnorris

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 1,823,293 others

tagged: oscarpiastri. landonorris

y/nnorris: maybe i should come to more races, that was rather fun

view all 34,293 comments

landonorris: it took me years to convince you to come to races and now you won't leave

y/nnorris: what can i say, i changed my mind....

oscarpiastri: i will always be happy to see your face in the garage

y/nnorris: that's it i'm convinced

landonorris: i don't know what this is but i know i don't like it

user7: oscar and y/n flirting on main omg

user8: please come to every race, your bts content is the best

oscarpiastri posted a story

written: boy have i missed the water

y/nnorris posted a story

written: am i a real monaco girlie now

landonorris replied to this story: who's boat is that

y/nnorris: i think you know

landonorris: i hate you

ln4fan

liked by user9, user10, user11 and 23,283 others

ln4updates: lowkey considering changing this account into a y/n norris fanpage because this girl is the best, i might just be her biggest fan. she has been to monaco, canada and spain, she slays every single time and gives us the best f1 content ever.

view all 3,495 comments

user9: as an oscar fan i am so grateful for all the oscar content she gives us

user10: fr she posts him more than her own brother

user11: you can't be y/n's biggest fan, that is oscar jack piastri

user12: finally someone who understands. y/n is the best norris

y/nnorris posted a story

written: the fit for hungary

mclarenupdates

liked by user13, user14, user15 and 56,930 others

mclarenupdates: oscar and y/n entered the paddock together today. lando later met up with them in the mclaren garage but it seems like these two are really close...

view all 6,928 comments

user13: i have been convinced that they are together since monaco

user14: they would be such a hot couple

user15: i know they probably aren't together but they should be

user16: pookies

y/nnorris

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren and 2,384,928 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

y/nnorris: so incredibly proud of you

view all 452,293 comments

oscarpiastri: couldn't have done it without your support

y/nnorris: yeah me crying in the pits deffo made you go faster

landonorris: i told you i supported your relationship but did you really need to kiss in front of me, ew

y/nnorris: grow up

mclaren: our papaya girl

user17: i would pay good money to have gotten to see lando's reaction to them

user18: i am so in love with them

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[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Pick One Moment"

[Spencer Reid x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: A rough case in Dayton, Ohio brings unexpected emotions to the surface for you, forcing you to confront feelings you'd been hiding for years—feelings for Spencer Reid.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, moment of awkwardness

Word Count: 2.0k words

A/N: just based on the lyric 'And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you...I love you' from the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra because it's been stuck in my head. I've been planning to write Spence for a while but I've been intimidated.

Staying professional in Dayton, Ohio proved to be a challenge.

It had been a rough case, but what case wasn't, right? Just have to wrap this one up and you can go back to your house and dog.

Okay, fine, this wasn't like most cases at all, not to you anyway. This one had hit particularly close to home. And you didn't like that one bit.

This made you more short-tempered than usual, even snapping at a witness. After a lengthy lecture from Hotch, I mean from the look on his face you would think you had insulted him, he had 'benched' you by having you go through old files that might be related to the UnSub.

Hey, at least you got to do it with Spencer.

After working with him for so many years, you grew quite fond of him. Too fond maybe.

You stared at him going through files with a speed that should not have been human. 20,000 words at a minute, and you thought you were a fast reader.

"Got anything yet, Boy Genius?" you asked, flipping the page of your own file.

He looked up at you. God those eyes...

"No. This one isn't even related to it." he dropped the file on the table.

"Didn't you read the entire thing?"

"Yes," he replied, "It was interesting."

"You find everything interesting."

"Not true," he protested.

You rubbed your eyes, sighing. "Sure, Spence."

He tilted his head at you, a look of concern on his face. Adorable.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You considered lying, you had been doing that the entire time you had arrived in Dayton after all, but decided against it. "Not really."

"Is it about your family? I thought this case might bring up some bad memories."

You couldn't help but smile at how quickly he had gotten it. "Yeah, something like that."

"Can I help?"

"Can you make memories go poof?"

He actually seemed to ponder it. "No. I'm not sure why you would want to."

"You never wish that you could just forget the bad stuff?" You knew what he had been through, you had seen quite a bit of it.

His brows furrowed. "I don't like the idea of forgetting anything. I mean, Mom forgets enough so I remember for her too."

You realized your mistake and winced. "Spence... God, sorry."

"It's okay," he reassured you. "You're remembering a dark time in your life, it can be overwhelming. Also explains you snapping at the witness, with your nerves on edge."

"Yeah?" You grinned. "It was going to be Morgan but the asshole left before I could. So collateral damage."

He laughed. "He's outside if you want to insult him now. I don't want to be collateral damage too."

"You? Never."

"Never?"

"Never," you repeated.

Oh, how you loved his lopsided grins. "Thank you."

"Always." If you could pick one moment to live in forever, it probably would've been that one.

Minus JJ coming through the door right then. "We got something."

You wanted to throw a file at her. Instead, you get up with a heavy sigh. The sooner you get this done the better, you had to remember that.

~~~

The BAU was heading back to Washington tomorrow, so you could leave this far far behind. Finally. This case taking up two weeks of your life was enough.

You sat at a cafe next to the hotel where you were staying. It was a cozy little place with a mostly brown interior and warm lighting. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the air.

You sipped your drink, feeling the cup's warmth in your hands. You had been coming here for the past few days and you had to admit, you would miss this place.

Just then, the door opened, and in walked someone you recognized, glancing around the room before spotting you. With a smile, Spencer made his way over, pulling out a chair across from you.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

You smiled back, gesturing to the seat. "Not at all."

He sat down and looked around. "So this is where you disappear to?"

You hummed in confirmation. "it's a nice place to think."

He stared at you for a while before nodding thoughtfully.

"What?" you sipped your coffee.

"Just... Are you feeling better?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, UnSubs behind bars. What more could I want?"

"Closure," he replied quietly.

You pressed your lips together tightly. "It's fine Spence. I'm alright with it."

"I don't think you are."

"Spencer," you said, a hint of warning in your voice, "You want to help, I get it. But not with this. Okay?"

It was an unspoken thing, the way Spencer always seemed to know when you needed space and when you needed someone to push just a little. He respected your boundaries, but there were moments—like this one—when his concern slipped through the cracks.

He sat across from you in that quiet cafe, watching you. You couldn’t tell if he was waiting for you to speak or if he was just giving you the time to process, as he always did.

It had been a rough case, yes, but that wasn’t why you were still here, staring into your coffee like it held all the answers.

Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He was still staring at you, quietly, as if he could see past your walls.

"Spence," you said, your voice quieter than you intended, "I’m fine. Really."

He didn’t respond immediately. His hand rested on the edge of the table, and you could see him fiddling with his fingers. That subtle nervousness he only ever seemed to show when he wasn’t sure what to say, but he knew he needed to say something.

"I don't believe you," he murmured, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve seen you too many times to believe that everything’s okay, especially when it’s not. You’ve been holding it in, and I know that—"

"Spencer—" you started, but you were too late. He was already talking over you, his voice getting faster.

"Please. I just want to make sure you're alright, okay?" He sighed, his eyes briefly darting away before looking back at you. “I just... I care about you."

Everything felt very... loud. Too loud.

He looked at you expectantly, almost uncertain. Maybe, just maybe, he was waiting for you to make the first move.

You cleared your throat. God, you really hated moments like this, when everything inside you seemed to tremble at the prospect of just being honest.

His hand shifted on the table, and before you could stop it, you had reached out to touch his fingers. It was the smallest of gestures—barely noticeable—but it was enough.

For a long moment, you simply looked at each other, the conversation hanging in the air. There was so much unspoken between you, so much left unsaid. Maybe that was the problem.

Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out of you, quicker than you could catch them. "I love you."

Spencer's face went completely still, his eyes wide as he processed your confession.

You had not meant to say that. You didn’t. It was an accident. You weren’t ready. You weren’t ready to put that kind of pressure on this, on him, on whatever this was.

But the words had slipped out anyway. You stared at him, feeling the heat rise in your face, hoping the ground would swallow you up.

"Sorry-God, I'm sorry," you quickly got up and rushed out of the cafe.

He just sits there. Frozen.

If you could pick one moment to rewind, it would be this one.

Oh, you fucked up big time.

~~~

You had never been more ready to get home, but unfortunately, there was an hour and thirty minutes on the private plane. With him.

Usually, you would spend an entire flight, after a case well done, talking to Spence. But after yesterday? But not this time. Maybe not ever.

You could feel Spencer’s presence beside you, but he was quiet. So quiet. Not the usual playful banter, no sudden bursts of random trivia or observations. It was almost like he was giving you space... or maybe he was just too uncomfortable to say anything.

Your eyes flickered to him once, twice, each time hoping for some indication of what he was thinking. He was staring out the window, a far-off look in his eyes, his fingers curled loosely around a book in his lap. For a moment, you almost felt the pull to apologize again, but the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel obligated to comfort you. You had put your foot in it already. Now, it was time to ride this out and pray it didn't become permanently awkward.

But Spencer, as always, was unpredictable.

"You don’t have to apologize," he said, his voice quiet, but it still carried across the cabin, cutting through the engine's hum.

You stiffened, eyes fixed on your lap. Had you been that obvious?

"I wasn’t going to," you said, a little too defensively.

He didn’t respond right away. You could feel him looking at you, the weight of his gaze making you want to curl into yourself.

“You know I care about you, right?” He said it so gently, like he wasn’t sure how you were going to take it.

You felt your chest tighten. Care about you. Those words. He was still speaking, still looking at you, but it was hard to focus on his words because everything was spinning around that one sentence.

"I do," you replied. You had to stop yourself from saying more—there was more you wanted to say, needed to say—but you couldn’t. Not yet. Not until you figured out where your head was at, where you both were at.

Spencer shifted in his seat. He didn’t look hurt, but there was something in the way he held himself. Maybe he was just holding back, afraid to push too hard, afraid of what that push might break.

You finally took a breath and turned to face him. He was still watching you, his expression a mix of concern and... something else. It was the something else that had you questioning everything.

"You don’t have to say anything," you added quickly, "I just...said something stupid. I didn’t mean to make things weird."

Spencer didn’t break his gaze, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Not his usual goofy grin, but something softer. More real. Something... intimate.

"It’s not weird," he said, his voice still quiet, "You’re not the only one who gets nervous around here, you know."

You blinked at him, genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

His smile flickered, a small laugh escaping him before he adjusted his posture and leaned back in his seat. He seemed less tense, more at ease, "I’m just saying... I’ve had my own share of... feelings. I just didn’t know how to... deal with them."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had feelings? For you?

The question hovered between you like an unspoken truth, but it seemed too risky to ask outright. Instead, you glanced down at your hands, the heat rising in your face.

And then, finally, you said something else, the words coming out quieter than you intended: "Do you think... we can just... forget it happened?"

You almost expected him to shrug it off, to offer a playful remark about how awkward it was or how maybe you'd both laugh about it someday. But he didn’t do that.

"No," he said softly. "I think maybe... we should talk about it. When we’re ready."

Your heart fluttered. Was this... was this him telling you he was ready? That maybe he wanted to figure it out too? Or was this Spencer, as usual, just giving you a window to process everything at your own pace?

You weren’t sure. You weren’t sure of anything. But you couldn’t deny the weight of his words, the connection that had always been there and that seemed to grow stronger the more time you spent together.

"I’m not great at talking about feelings," you admitted, looking over at him sheepishly.

Spencer chuckled softly, a breath of amusement. "Yeah, I’ve noticed."

You gave him a sidelong glance, your lips twitching into a reluctant grin. “Smartass.”

"Hey, you started it," he teased, finally breaking the tension just a little. "And I’ll finish it. But not right now. I think... we both need time to think."

You nodded slowly. He was right. You both needed time. The last thing either of you needed was to make rash decisions while emotions were still running high.

"You’re not mad?" You asked it before you could stop yourself, the doubt creeping in.

"Mad? Why would I be mad?" Spencer’s face was open and sincere.

"I don’t know. I just..." You didn’t finish your sentence. What was there to say? How could you explain the mess of emotions you were still trying to sort out?

He reached out across the seat, almost as if he was testing the waters, and placed a hand gently on yours. The touch was brief, but it sent a spark of warmth through you.

"I’m not mad," he said again, more firmly this time. "Not for that."

You were both quiet for the rest of the flight, but the silence between you felt different—more like an understanding, like a promise that when the time was right, you’d figure it out together.

It wasn't the one moment you would pick to stay in forever, but it was a moment you didn't mind being in for the rest of the flight.

[deliciousangelfestival]

You're the One - 1

Summary: A daughter uncovers the wild, untold story of how her parents’ marriage began—and it’s way better than any romance movie she’s ever watched.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Comedy

Words Count : 2,100

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 ,-

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Having a cool dad like Bucky is a blessing. For Jade, it definitely is. Her friends, after meeting him, always say things like: “He’s so cool!” “He’s so funny!” or even, “Can we trade dads?”

Jade could only roll her eyes. Sure, Bucky’s pretty chill and easygoing about most things, but there’s one thing that drives her crazy.

It’s not a big deal for her, but for Bucky, it’s a huge one.

Romantic movies, especially where the bride runs away from the wedding.

That’s why their house only has action and mystery movies.

But tonight, Jade wants to watch one of her favorite genres at home. Why? Because their home theater is amazing, a special project Bucky built for his wife and daughter.

Unfortunately, her dad’s silly rules mean she can’t enjoy it.

But tonight is different. He’s heading out to pick up her mom from the airport.

Jade is sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting for her dad to leave.

In the hallway, Bucky stands in front of the mirror, fixing his hair and shirt while whistling a tune. Through the mirror, he notices Jade watching him.

“Don’t have a house party,” he says, pointing at her with mock sternness.

“Yes, yes,” Jade replies, hopping off the counter. She walks over, pushes him toward the garage, and tosses him the car keys. “Go pick up Mom.”

Bucky chuckles as he stumbles slightly. “Alright, alright. You’re awfully eager to get rid of me tonight.”

She smirks. “I just know how much you missed her. You two will probably go straight to dinner or something. Now, go!”

Bucky shakes his head, amused, and heads to the car. But as he opens the door, he suddenly stops.

“Wait… my wallet.”

He heads back inside.

“Jade?” he calls out. No response.

On the counter, his wallet sits neatly next to the fruit bowl. Grabbing it, he pauses. The house feels… too quiet.

“Jade!” he calls again, louder this time.

Still no answer. Frowning, he checks the living room and kitchen before heading upstairs. Knocking on her bedroom door, he’s met with silence.

“Did she sneak out?” he mutters. That didn’t seem like her.

Then it hits him. The home theater.

As he walks back downstairs, the faint smell of buttered popcorn wafts through the air. His suspicions confirmed, he pushes open the theater door.

“Jade!”

Startled, Jade nearly drops her popcorn but manages to save most of it. “Dad!”

She fumbles for the remote, pausing the movie and quickly turning off the screen. Her heart races—the scene on display had been the bride in a wedding dress.

Bucky strides forward, picks up the DVD case, and reads the summary. With a single glance, he knows exactly what it is.

“Jade, how many times have I told you? No romantic movies like this in my house.”

“But why?” she groans, flopping dramatically into her seat. “We have the best home theater! I just want to use it!”

Bucky crosses his arms, his expression stern. “Because they’re predictable. It’s always the same: someone’s crying, someone’s chasing, someone’s kissing. And the bride always runs away for some cliché reason.”

Jade huffs. “Why do you hate them so much? It’s not like Mom ever ran away from a wedding or something.”

The moment she says it, Bucky freezes.

Jade stares at him, her eyes widening. “Oh my God. Wait—she did, didn’t she?”

Bucky doesn’t answer. He turns and heads toward the door, but Jade jumps up, running after him.

She wraps her arms around his waist, trying to hold him back. “Dad! Is it true? Did Mom run away? How did you chase her? Why am I just finding out now?”

“I’m going to be late picking her up,” Bucky mutters, dragging himself forward with his daughter clinging to him like a koala.

Then, a notification chimes.

Both father and daughter glance at the phone on the counter.

The family group chat reads: “The flight’s delayed three hours. 😔”

Jade grabs the phone and shows him. “Look, Dad! Mom won’t be here for another five hours.”

Bucky sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Please tell me!” Jade begs. “I promise I won’t watch the movie. This is way more interesting. Why did Mom run?”

Bucky turns to her with a serious expression. “She didn’t run away.”

“Huh?” Jade tilts her head, confused.

“She didn’t run away,” Bucky repeats. “I kidnapped her on her wedding day.”

The room goes silent.

Jade’s jaw drops as she points an accusing finger at him. “You… you stole Mom from someone else?! You're the bad guy!"

Bucky rolls his eyes and pushes her hand down. “If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had a happy life.”

He heads to the kitchen, grabs a cold bottle of water from the fridge, and takes a long drink.

Jade, now buzzing with excitement, follows him like a shadow. “Tell me! Tell me everything! How did that happen?”

Seeing her curiosity, Bucky sighs and gestures to the couch. “Fine. Sit down. I’m only telling this story once.”

Jade darts to the couch, grabs her popcorn, and settles in, eyes wide with anticipation.

Bucky clears his throat and leans back against the counter. “Alright. It was 15 years ago…”

💍🔔💍🔔

15 Years Ago

The changing room in the chapel buzzes with excitement. Your bridesmaids gather near the mirrors, giggling and chatting as they adjust their dresses and share jokes.

“Oh, did you see the flower arrangements?” one of them exclaims. “The Jordans really went all out!”

“They’re stunning. Just like this wedding,” another adds with a dreamy sigh.

Their energy fills the room, but you sit quietly in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection. The white wedding dress you’re wearing is nothing short of a masterpiece. Designed by a world-renowned fashion house, it fits you perfectly, every intricate detail exuding elegance. The lace, the pearls, the veil—it’s flawless.

But it doesn’t feel like yours.

“You’re so lucky,” one of the bridesmaids says, leaning toward you with a knowing smile. “Everything about this wedding is perfect. And Clark? He’s an absolute catch. You’re living a dream!”

You force a smile, your lips twitching just enough to look convincing. “Yeah… lucky,” you reply softly, though your voice lacks conviction.

In truth, you don’t feel lucky. You feel trapped. This wedding isn’t about love; it’s about business. The Jordans—one of the wealthiest families in the country—are securing an alliance with your family. It’s an arrangement, a deal sealed with vows.

It’s not that you dislike Clark. He’s kind, patient, and honest—a good man by anyone’s standards. The wedding is happening with your consent, after all.

Still, your heart feels heavy, uneasy. Marriage is forever. And with Clark? The problem is, you don’t love him. Not yet.

You hope, maybe after the wedding, the love will grow. Maybe with time, you’ll learn to love each other deeply. But right now, your heart is stuck in the past.

It doesn’t belong to Clark—it belongs to someone else.

Bucky.

The thought of his name makes your breath hitch. That wild man who once turned your world upside down. He was nothing like the calm, dependable Clark. Your parents couldn’t stand him, but you didn’t care. You chose him. For a while, you and Bucky were unshakable, inseparable—until life threw challenges your way, and the weight of it all broke you apart. He was the one who ended it, leaving you shattered.

Your gaze drifts to the window. You wonder where he is now. Is he happy? Did he achieve his dreams? Has he found someone else?

You shake your head and whisper to yourself, “Why am I even thinking about him?”

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you try to push the thoughts away. It’s your wedding day. You should be focused on Clark, not your ex. You give yourself a light tap on the forehead. “Stop it,” you mutter.

But just as you’re about to take a deep breath, the door to the changing room bursts open with a loud bang.

Startled, you whip your head around, your eyes widening.

“Bucky?!”

There he is, standing in the doorway like he’s just stepped out of a different world. His leather jacket looks completely out of place among the pristine suits and elegant dresses. His dark jeans and worn boots carry the same rugged confidence you remember.

“What are you doing here?” you stammer, rising to your feet, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest.

He steps closer, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Isn’t it obvious?” he says, his voice low and teasing. “I’m here to steal the bride.”

Your breath catches, and your mind races. “Huh?” is all you manage to get out.

Before you can process what’s happening, he closes the distance between you. In one swift motion, he grabs you and hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Bucky!” you shriek, pounding your fists against his back. “Put me down! Are you insane?!”

He chuckles, his grip firm as he carries you toward the door. “A little, yeah. But you’re not staying here.”

Your bridesmaids are frozen in shock, their mouths agape. One finally breaks the silence with a panicked, “Somebody stop him!”

But no one moves. Maybe it’s the sheer audacity of the moment, or maybe it’s the dangerous confidence in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, you find yourself being carried out of the room, your heart racing in a way that feels strangely familiar.

“Bucky!” you shout again, your voice laced with equal parts anger and panic. “You can’t do this!”

“Oh, I can,” he replies smoothly, “and I am.”

As he strides down the hallway, you struggle to free yourself, but his grip doesn’t falter. Despite the chaos, there’s a part of you—a small, buried part—that feels alive in a way it hasn’t in years.

And that terrifies you.

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AAAA we seriously need more Daisuke x reader fics (|||´Д｀)

May i request something fluffy for the boy? (-ε- )

Drift to Sleep

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader (gender isn't mentioned)

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping properly, maybe your boyfriend will help out with that.

Warnings: a bit cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I'm sorry this is so short!!😔 Btw just to throw this out here I wish Jimbo didn't exist. -> m.list

You dragged your feet on the ground, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as best as you could. Your eyelids drooped down, threatening to shut completely over your eyes and lead you to sleep.

You can't remember the last time you've had proper sleep ever since you stepped foot on the Tulpar. You've had trouble staying awake, yet you couldn't even take a nap.

You don't understand why you can't sleep for more than two hours. Seriously, you keep waking up in the middle of the night, either by nightmares or simply because fate has other plans for you.

At least you had Daisuke.

The way his smile would click something in your brain and instantly power you on, matching his energy. He could easily brighten up your day, even when you felt dull.

"Good morning!" Daisuke beamed, immediately grinning as he saw you entered the room.

"Morning..." You muttered, forcing yourself to smile back, barely managing.

"Not 'good'?" He tilted his head to the side, noticing your tired expression.

"If it was good I would be sleeping." You mumbled in a flat tone, taking a seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned at the way you were so drained out.

"It's hard to sleep... I don't know why or how, I just can't." You explained, furrowing your brows. "I'm tired, but I just can't..." You added, gazing in front of you as you zoned out.

Daisuke only gave a head nod in response, smile faltering for a bit. He didn't like seeing you in such a state, he just had to figure out how to make you feel better.

"Maybe you can get Anya to check on you." He suggested, gently wrapping an arm around your waist loosely to keep you closer to him.

"It's not worth it... I'll just waste her time." You replied, closing your eyes but to no avail. You knew you had work to do, had to force yourself to stand up and do your chores. It was just so hard...

୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧

You turned in your bed from side to side, forcing your eyes closed as you tried to control your breath and count sheep, hoping that you'd fall asleep that way.

You tried every sleeping method you could think of, but none of them have worked so far. You figured out you could just give up and walk circles around your room to exhaust yourself even more.

Just then, you heard a soft click, and then a creak coming from the door. Light came in through the crack, revealing Daisuke's smiling face.

"Daisuke? What's wrong?" You asked in a hushed tone, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. You squinted your eyes due to the blinding light as Daisuke made his way into your room and shut the door silently.

"I can't sleep either." He shrugged with a big, dorky grin on his lips. He started walking towards you with light steps, just so that he's not being too loud to alert any other crew member.

"So... Why not try to fall asleep together?" He suggested, silently making his way over in your bed as it shifted under his weight.

You chuckled at him, watching as he layed down with open arms, waiting for you to throw yourself into him so he can cuddle with you.

You shook your head, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you placed your head on his chest, throwing one of your legs over him as his arm wrapped loosely around you.

His body was so warm, the embrace you two were in felt heavenly, and you certainly didn't want to pull away from it.

You felt your eyes close themselves, feeling Daisuke's chest rise up and down from his soft breathing.

You could hear the way his heartbeat was increasing, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back while you were slowly drifting to sleep under his touch.

If you knew it was this easy, you would've done this from the start.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[bywons]

YOU KEEP ME WARM ｡｡ stealing their hoodie

𝖫𝖠𝖢𝒪𝖭𝖨𝖢───when you are warmer & cuter in his hoodie

𝑜𝑓 ܃ enhypen x f!r O886 𝑤𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 headcannons bf!enha fluff ── 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 kissing, skinship ｡｡｡ ／ ( 𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒 ) ｡

૮ ♡◞ ◟ ა this one was so cute to write. a shorter hc, but i really hope you will like it, mwah baby, have a good day ^^ 💌

reb𝑙ogs& ˊᗜˋ 𝑓eedbacks

LEE HEESEUNG gasps as soon as he enters the living room to witness his red hoodie being stolen by his dearest lover, you. he approaches your dozing figure, catching you off guard ad he wraps his arms around you all too sudden, pulling you into a series of kisses on your lips. “caught you red handed, you really thought you could get away with stealing my hoodie?” he murmurs, his voice full of affection. you blink up at him, startled but quickly melting into his embrace. he leans back just enough to meet your eyes, still smiling, “you look way too good in my clothes,” he whispers, kissing the top of your head, “i might just let you keep it.”

PARK JONGSEONG his heart swells with warmth as he watches you, your figure bundled up in his oversized hoodie, the sleeves slightly covering your hands. the winter fair buzzes with life around you, but all he can focus on is how adorable you look, probably so warm in his clothes. “are you comfortable?” he asks, slowly rubbing the small of your back in a soothing manner, guiding you through the crowd. “always, with you,” you smile, giving him a sweet kiss on the cheek which he quickly returns back to your forehead. giggling, he says, “i'm forever glad you're warm enough in my hoodie.”

SIM JAEYUN jake’s eyes light up as soon as he spots you across the street, wearing his favorite black hoodie. his grin widens as he jogs up to you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “you really know how to make anything look ten times cuter,” he teases, resting his chin on your shoulder. you giggle, leaning into his embrace as the two of you continue walking down the city street, hand in hand. “is it comfy?” Jake asks, giving your hand a little squeeze. “super comfy,” you reply, glancing at him with a playful smile. “i might never give it back.” jake chuckles softly, stopping in his tracks to press a quick kiss to your temple. “that's fine by me,” he murmurs, his voice warm with affection. “but don’t blame me if I steal it back when you’re not looking.” his eyes twinkle with mischief as you both continue your stroll.

PARK SUNGHOON freezes at the mesmerizing sight in the kitchen. his blue hoodie, loosely hugging your busy frame, making black coffee on the marble counter. you don't notice him at first, but when you do your heart skips a beat, as sunghoon slips his strong arms around around waist from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “hey, that’s mine,” sunghoon sighs, trying to keep his voice steady, though the soft blush on his cheeks betrays him. you turn, smiling, “you’re right, but i think it looks better on me.” he finally gives in to your antics, and giggled in response, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. “i can't lie, you look better in this.”

KIM SUNOO lets out an excited squeal the moment he sees you step out of your room wearing his pink hoodie. “oh my gosh, look at you!” he exclaims, rushing over to wrap you in a hug. you giggle, surprised by his reaction. “you’re the one who left it lying around,” you tease, but sunoo is too busy admiring how cute you look. “you’re literally the most adorable thing ever,” he says, his eyes shining with affection. he twirls you around, his smile never faltering. “you’re keeping that,” he says, not even giving you a chance to argue. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then adds with a playful grin, “we can even match next time.”

YANG JUNGWON spots you sitting by the window, wrapped in his gray hoodie, watching the rain pour down outside. he leans against the doorframe for a moment, just taking in how peaceful you look, the hoodie a bit too big on you but somehow perfect at the same time. “you look cozy,” jungwon sings, breaking the silence as he walks over. you turn, smiling as he sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “i am, don't wanna take it off,” you reply, pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself. jungwon chuckles softly, reaching over to pull the hood over your head. “you’re adorable,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. you sigh, resting your head on his shoulder as the rain continues to fall. “guess this hoodie’s mine now,” you tease, and jungwon just grins, wrapping an arm around you. “only if i get to share it with you.”

NISHIMURA RIKI walks into the game room to find you sitting in front of the TV, wearing his favorite hoodie. his eyes widens in surprise before a mischievous smile creeps onto his face. “hey, that’s my hoodie!” he says, dramatically pointing at you. you look over your shoulder, smirking, “not anymore.” riki laughs, walking over and sitting beside you. “well, you look way cooler in it than i ever did,” he admits, leaning back and resting his arm around your shoulders. you grin, leaning into him as you focus on the game. “it’s super comfy,” you say. he nods, pulling you closer. “i'm not even mad. but you owe me a game,” he teases, kissing the top of your head.

© bywons, 2024. do not copy / translate / upload on any other platform without my permission.

taglist────open. tags in the reblogs 💌 network tag. @/k-labels CLICK ME

[tinytennisskirt]

Meet The Donaldsons

summary: being art’s college girlfriend and being the first girl he’s ever brought home. headcanon of art being the child of a single mother, raised by her and his grandma <3. meeting the family!

warnings: blurb-like, not a full fic. unedited from notes app. kissing. fluff!!! short n sweet babyyy

The first thing you see when you approach is that the house is big and white. The way Art spoke about his mom, you’d think with her grace, she’d be royalty and this house was just that. As you got closer, the intimidation slowed as you could come to see the huge gardens and the too many statues, garden gnomes and pink flamingo decor. Before you got out of the car, Art asked if you were okay. You nodded, so the two of you headed up the front few steps. Art knocked.

She opened the door with her arms up and open, “Arthur!” She beamed, wrapping her son in one of the biggest hugs you’ve ever seen given to anyone. “Oh, my darling, let me look at you.” She pulled away from the hug, observing him, holding his face in both of her hands.

“Mom,” he smiled sheepishly, nose scrunched. You watched his grin take over his smile, perfect teeth showing bright.

“You got taller? I thought you couldn’t! And you’ve been working out, my god, Art, these biceps.” She said, giving his arms a squeeze. You smiled and put your hands on your hips. “My god, you look like a man.”

His smile is pretty as always, but this time you can see that they share similar teeth. “Mom,” he said, a little quieter, her hands still on his face, his arms, his shoulders. He tipped his head toward you and his mom gasped a little.

“Oh my god, oh my god, I’m so sorry, darling,” she turned to you, gasping again when she fully set her eyes on you. she was not afraid to pull you into a hug. “Hi.” She said, rubbing your back as she hugged you. Her hug had the perfect pressure and you note that she smells like pumpkin spice. “My goodness, you are gorgeous, let me look at you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you laughed a little as she pulled away, giving you a spin. “I’m-“

“Y/N! I know, I’ve heard all about you! God, you’re gorgeous. Art, she’s gorgeous.” She nods back in Art’s direction. His grin is ear-to-ear, wide and stunning as he nods in agreement. “My goodness, who knit you, a supermodel and moviestar? Or two models, look at your eyes, they’re stunning!”

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I-“

“You might just be one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen-“ She turned back to Art, “She is so beautiful.”

Art nodded again, arms folded over his stomach. “I know.”

“Does he tell you that you’re beautiful?”

“All the time,” you replied. “You raised him right.”

She laughed and you could see the resemblance between her and her son as she bat you away, “I like you. Come in, come in!”

She opens the door and steps back inside, Art gladly slips his arm around you, his hand coming to rest on the opposite side of your waist. You beam at him and he’s smiling just the same, your shared thoughts are silent, but understood.

The front hall is massive and bright. It’s not white like the exterior, but the walls are a pale sort of rosy-purple and there are tons and tons of paintings of all sorts of things lining up the grand staircase. But on main display was all of Art’s memorabilia- ribbons, trophies all hanging and on small shelves above the archway to the next room. The staircase, as beautiful, wrapped around that arch to come down on both sides of the foyer. You were sure you’d never been in a house so big in your life, this foyer was probably as big as your house back home. “Wow,” you mumbled quietly. “You told me it was big, but I thought mansion big not big mansion big.”

“I’ve mentioned it but how many times do I really want to throw around the word ‘mansion’, I’d sound like some sort of…”

“I taught him better,” his mom nodded just ahead of you both. “Art knows that we are beyond lucky to have what we have, I couldn’t stand it if I birthed a little Richie Rich. I was already terrified when he came out blonde!” Her laugh was loud and melodious and filled the hallway entirely. You looked at Art, nodding.

“I’m not- yeah- shhh,” he smiled, passing you just a little, hand sliding back around your waist and into his pocket. He rocked just a little on his heels. “Tour? Mom?”

“Tour!” She cheered, “What was I thinking, charcuterie can wait. You like cheese, Y/N?”

“Love.” You replied, smiling.

“Good, because we have way too much. I wasn’t sure what to get but charcuterie is about assortment anyway, so I bought the whole selection. It almost takes up a table!” She laughed her booming laugh again. As she walked into the next room, you had a moment to fully assess her profile. She was short, shorter than Art, just the tiniest bit shorter than you. Shoulder length golden blonde that was just the slightest bit grey but in a sort of chic way. She shared Art’s eyes and his smile.

She didn’t look like she’d gotten any work done though Art had told you she’d gotten some. Her eyes crinkled when she laughed and her eyebrows were expressive and you wanted to credit her youthful glow with a happy life. She was also dressed in a tasteful blue floral wrap dress. Despite her money, the dress was one you’d seen at Walmart not too long ago. She also wasn’t wearing any shoes.

“You saw the foyer, this is the living room.” The room was decorated with flowers and lots of colours, though brown was the colour that was frequented most. But it was paired with pinks and blues and greens. You’d almost expected one of those homes that are nearly empty, but there were far too many fruits in the coffee table bowl, pomegranates and oranges and grapes. The clutter was gorgeous, books all around and of course, more of Art’s tennis trophies and lots of photos of him and his mom. She really loved her son, it was sweet to see.

“You were so little,” you sighed sweetly, looking at a photo of little Art and his tiny tennis racket. “Little blondie.” Art came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you gazed over the pictures of him at one, two, five, seven…

“I haven’t seen some of these in ages,” Art said, looking over them himself. “Before it was diaper pictures.”

You gasped, “No way, they’re gone?”

“Darling, they’re never gone. They’re in the photo book on the coffee table. Let me tell you, nothing compares to this one picture I have of little Art in the kitchen sink, butt-naked. He was one, maybe two? He-“

“Mom?” Art spoke with a tone of loving warning. “No sink bath pictures, please.”

You giggled, swaying with Art’s hands around your waist, teasing. “Later.” You nodded. Art’s mom gave you a sly little wink, guiding you into the next room. This room was a messy little office/study. A grand desk, gorgeously glossy and made of the prettiest coloured wood you’d ever seen. The walls were lined with books and the computer on the table was fancy. Big, chunky, fancy. There was an easel in the corner and a paint setup with shelving. “I like to paint with oils.” His mom told you. “Between business calls.”

The next room was a little gym, then a laundry room, the kitchen was absolutely stunning, huge, very fancy. The dining room was insanely gorgeous, lined with pretty wallpaper and a cream tablecloth. The next room over was a small parlour. You really had the idea that Art’s mom was a sports mom, but she was her own person entirely, and her personality was splashed all over the walls.

They took you outside where there was a pool, a hot tub, and a tennis court. A whole tennis court. It made sense, though. It was the biggest splash of Art you’d seen so far if you didn’t count the shrines. “Oh wow, it’s huge.”

“Where Art learned to love tennis. We bought the house with it, thought we’d let him try it out. Look at him now, on his way to a big name.” She pinched his cheek again and he bat her hand away lovingly. You grinned, squeezing his hand. “Art tells me you play tennis too?”

“I’m learning.”

“She’s better than me,” Art told his mom.

“Am not,” you folded your arms. “I can barely hit the ball.”

“Oh, neither can I, honey. We should play.” His mom grinned, grabbing your hand. Your fingers interlocked and she pulled you in, holding your hand as she pulled you down to the garden. You got into conversation with Art and his mom about the trees, how he used to play in them. It moved into a softer conversation about his childhood and about yours, moving through other curious rooms. You circled back to a room with the table full of cheese and crackers and other fruits and meats, where the conversation was school, your history, repeating the story of how you met. You two sat on the loveseat across from her in her tall pink chair. She clasped her hands together happily, listening, then after a while, dismissed herself for an afternoon nap until dinner. “I’ll leave Art to show you the upstairs. The bedrooms…” She teased.

“Mom,” Art said, a small flush to his ears and nose. He was cute. His mom fluttered out of the room with a small smirk. Art hid his face and you giggled just a little. He raised his head, nose pink. “I’m sorry, she’s…”

“Perfect,” you finished his sentence. You were so genuinely thrilled by all of this, it was no wonder you were practically bursting.God, she’s amazing, Art. She’s beautiful and looks just like you and she’s so eccentric, I’ve never met anyone like her- And I think she likes me.”

“She loves you,” he nodded, pushing your hair behind your ear, smiling. You couldn’t help but grin, leaning in to kiss him. Just a small kiss, with a mutual smile between. “I don’t think she’s ever loved me as much as she loves you.”

“Ooh, I might steal. You better watch out before your mom becomes mine,” you teased, kissing him quickly again. Your hand gently cupped the side of his face, but he held you close.

“There’s other ways to do that, I promise.” He kissed you again. “Come upstairs. My grandma is staying with us for the weekend too, you can meet her if she’s not asleep.”

You kept smiling, “Think she’ll like me as much?”

“She made my mom, my mom loves you and frankly, so do I. I don’t think my grandma can do anything but love you too.”

“Three generations,” you smiled, letting him pull you off the small couch. His smile was content and near a smirk. “I love you too.”

“Mhm.” He pulled you in again, kissing you once more on the lips, then forehead, before pulling you up the stairs. At the top, he did a little turning gesture, wide-arms referencing the top floor. You were a little in awe at how big it all still was. “Thoughts?”

“Huge.”

He chuckled, kissing your shoulder gently as he walked around you. “I used to go down the stairs on my stomach. Got rug burn. My grandma, actually, would always get me frozen peas to soothe it. I always went back and did it again later.”

“I think we would have gotten along as kids,” you nodded. “You’re cute, Richie Rich.”

“Unfair.” He retorted, leading you to his grandma’s room. He knocked gently at her door, “Grandma?”

“Arthur? That you?” A sweet woman’s voice came from the room. “Come in, come in!”

You smiled at the use of his full name. He winced just a little, smile on his face matching yours. He pulled you along as he opened the door. The room was baby blue, with a big wooden bed with lovely pale blue curtains. there was a tv and a rocking chair, which his grandma was seated in. Her hair in a little bun, she was a tiny woman. Very short, very thin, but also still very pretty. “Oh, it’s Y/N!” She smiled, clasping her hands together in a fashion much like Art’s mom. “Come, darling, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Art shot you an ‘I told you so’ look, but you were busy having your heart full of the fact Art spoke enough about you with his mom and grandma that she knew exactly who you were by name and wanted to see you immediately. You stepped her way, “It’s so nice to meet you, Art talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise, my dear! You’re just as beautiful as Art described. Do a spin for me?” You gladly turned in a circle. “Absolutely stunning. Art, you did well, my boy!”

“I think so,” he replied, stepping forward to hug her gently in her chair. He was so cute. Too cute. “How are you?”

“Oh, just a little sleepy. Was going to have a nap in a few minutes. Same old, same old woman.” She bat the air playfully. “My god will we talk at dinner. I am so glad you found someone with such kind eyes, Arthur. They match yours perfectly.” A poetic woman. “How are you, dear?”

“Oh, I’m good,” you smiled.

“And Arthur?”

“I’m good too- do you need help getting to bed? We can leave you to nap.”

She nodded, “Always such a kind young man. Missed you. I watched the last game your mom recorded, you were spectacular.”

“I missed you too,” he said with a small smile, helping get up. “Thank you, Grandma.” His lips pressed into a straight-lined smile. She held onto his arm as he walked her slowly over to her bed, helping her in. Your heart fluttered a bit at the simple act.

“Thank you for coming to say hi, Y/N. I look forward to meeting you better after my nap.” She smiled, pulling the covers over. She squeezed Art’s hand and whispered something to him under his breath. He grinned ear-to-ear. “Good mid-afternoon!” She called to you and Art jogged back over to you, you waved and followed him out the door.

“What did she say?” You giggled, moving closer to him, your chest pressed against his. He just grinned. “Tell me?”

“Mmm, later,” he nodded, hands wrapping around your waist. “Come see my room.”

“Is there a bed?”

“Queen sized?” He grinned, not letting you go, but pulling you with him, still against him, looking down at you just slightly. “My room is furthest down the hall. No judging though.”

“That’s all I’m here to do,” you teased, kissing him on the cheek and walking ahead to the room at the end of the hall. He nodded, so you opened the door and your jaw dropped. The room had pale red walls, partial beige carpeting against wooden floors, a big wooden bed, and a tv setup. You tried to ignore the folded ping pong table in the corner. “Oh my god, it’s huge. The room, the bed, the… wow.”

“It’s big, I know.” He walked over to his bed. The walls had tennis posters, movie posters, and game posters. You noted the mini fridge.

“This is not what I pictured,” you gawked a little as you took it all in. “But it’s so… you.” You eyed the books on the shelves. Old books, they seemed. It was very Art. Even his comforter was very him. He sat on his bed and you stood in front of him, looking down. Your hands rested on his shoulders gently. “Thank you for bringing me here with you. It’s amazing, it’s really beautiful here and your room… Richie Rich.”

He shook his head, hands gently sliding up your hips. “Maybe.”

“Knew it.” You said, pointing a finger. His hands snaked around your lower back, slipping under your shirt to touch your skin. “You admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“Are you paying attention?” You teased, tapping just under his chin. He looked up at you with those soft eyes that read as a ‘no’. “That’s okay.”

“Tired.” He nodded. So were you, you noticed. The trip had been exhausting, but meeting his mom and grandma had given you a second wind that was now dying. You giggled a little as his arms wrapped all the way around your waist, pulling you down onto him on the bed. With easily intertwined limbs, you both got comfortable on his bed, his arms around you, your legs twisted up comfortably. His hand ran over the back of your head, through your hair. A nap seemed to be the theme in the house. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You replied, squeezing him just a little. You moved just once more, so that Art was more in your arms, and you kissed him on the temple.

“I always dreamed about having a girl in my bed,” he mumbled, a grin on his face, his eyes closed. You kissed the side of his head again, he turned just a little to kiss you properly. You giggled a little uncontrollably as he rolled on top of you for just a second, kissing you hard and then kissing your cheek, your nose, your cheek again, your lips, and then reverting back to his original position.

“To do that?”

“That and other things.” He nodded, eyes shut again, smile still very wide on his face. “Later.”

“Sounds like a-“ you yawned, he followed. “Plan.” You settled in once more and ten minutes later the both of you were sound asleep. And you stated that way for a few hours, maybe three, intertwined on top of his comforter. His mom slowly opened the door in the fresh dark of his room, the sun having set, after knocking a few times with no answer. Her eyes fell on the two of you and she smiled, before closing the door and calling downstairs to say that dinner would be postponed another hour.

Around nine, you woke in the calm silence of his room, disoriented for a moment, but you felt Art beside you, breathing steadily. You looked at the digital clock next to his bed and sighed just a little. “Art,” you whispered, kissing his cheek gently. “Art, wake up.”

He stirred just a little. You kissed his cheek again, then the corner of his eye, then his lips gently. His hand raised, sliding over your jaw and into the back of your hair as he woke into kissing you more. It was sweet and gentle. “Hi.” He said between kisses. “What time is it?”

“Nine.” You replied. His hand slipped down over your arm, rubbing up and down. “Think we slept through dinner?”

“We eat late anyway,” he smiled. “Should probably head down though.”

“Mmm, okay,” you nodded back, starting to get up. He didn’t let you, kept you close. “Art.”

“Mhm?”

“‘Should probably head down though’,” you quoted back to him. He shook his head, pulling you back in to kiss you. You giggled against his lips. “Mmm, Art- your mom, your grandma- are they waiting?”

“Maybe-“ He kissed you again. “Probably. Okay. Let’s go.” You smiled, watching him stretch and get up from the bed. You slipped off the opposite side and went to turn the light on. You checked over your eye makeup which surprisingly wasn’t so disturbed from sleep. Your clothes were fine. You looked presentable, running fingers through your hair. Art, of course, didn’t have to do a thing. The two of you talked about the pictures on the walls as you walked down the stairs, teasing the gap between his teeth from his childhood and remarking on how cute his ears are and were, laughing as you entered the living room again.

“You’re up! Perfect. How was your nap?” His mom immediately set down the book she was reading. “I have to tell you, my nap was so lovely. I had a dream about creme brûlée, so I had my chef whip some up for after dinner. I would make it myself usually, I know, but I thought since we have guests, I’d much rather be present.”

Art rubbed his eye, “Nap was good. Where’s grandma?”

“Knitting in the parlour, we should grab her and head to the table, I know she’s dying to talk to you, Y/N. Kept going on about your hips and my god, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also jealous of them.” She laughed loudly, standing up.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I’m jealous of your hair, I mean the volume, it’s gorgeous.”

“So what you’re saying is we go get our hair done tomorrow?” She shimmied a little teasing shrug. “Oh, and nails? Maybe a pedicure and a massage. Art, your girlfriend is mine.”

He leaned into your ear, “She’s always wanted a daughter.” It warmed your heart.

“I would love that, but I can’t-“

“If you mention money, I want you out of here within the hour,” she warned you playfully as you walked to the parlour. “My treat! I need someone to go with me.”

Art’s hand slipped under the back of your shirt as you turned the corner again, resting on your lower back. “I would love that. That’s amazing.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. But it’ll be fun. We can gossip, talk boybands, get lunch? If that’s okay with Art. Art?”

“I’ll… spend the day with grandma,” he nodded at you, then his mom with a smile. You could tell me really loved how much your mom loved you. Like he was proud, almost. “It’s okay with me.”

“Thank you. We’d be back for dinner and you’re staying four days, correct?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“So you really mean five?”

“Mom,”

“So you really mean a week?” She burst out laughing, turning and hitting Art in the arm playfully. “No worries, darling.” She opened the door and with a few sweet words, you all made your way to the dining room, Art’s grandmother in her wheel chair asking you your favourite colour, movie, show, showtune, animal, etc.

Dinner was delicious and the conversation was lighthearted. His grandmother was gorgeous with a stunning sense of humour and his mom and her got along like best friends. He interacted with them so sweetly. It was clear they were truly valued by him and their influence on him was suddenly clearer. The way he talked was from them, some of his little hand gestures were definitely from his mom. You laughed and ate and shared a bottle of limoncello until around eleven.

They were night people for sure. The conversation eventually lead to listening some music and then eventually, saying goodnight. Art’s mom pushed his grandma away in the wheelchair and you grinned wide the moment they were out of sight, turning to Art. “I love it here,” you told him. “I love your mom, your grandma.” You kissed him, his hands eased around your waist. “Thank you for bringing me-“ He kissed you again. “Home. I am so-“ You couldn’t help but giggle madly as he kissed you back down onto the couch, you were unable to fight it. His hands on your waist still, one knee between your legs, the other knee he balanced on his knee on the edge of the couch. He kissed you passionately, with the underlying notes of sweetness, both of you smiling into it. He was happy to be home, he was happy to have y-

His knee slipped off the edge of the couch, causing him to slip right onto the carpet. You gasped slightly as he tumbled, but then he just laughed, laying on his back on the purple rug. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. He started to get up, but you wouldn’t let him, kissing him as he started to come up, the both of you still laughing into it. He cupped your jaw, pulled gently, and in seconds you were on top of him, kissing him on the carpet while some 90s soft music continued to play from a record his mom had put on a while ago.

A gentle kiss, though unending, his hands through your hair as you kissed on the floor. Smiles still unwavering. Things had gone so much better than expected, you were happy. Really happy. You had plans with his mom tomorrow. She loved you. His grandma loved you. You had three more days with them. With him. Here, in his home, the home he grew up in. God, it was perfect. He was perfect. You were overwhelmed by just how perfect everything had been so of course you kissed him just a little harder. He took it gladly.

Keeping it tame, you ended up only kissing, which felt safe for the living room floor. After a while the kissing turned to talking, your face hovering just above his, fixing his tousled hair and kissing his nose. “You have to try playing tennis again.” He told you. “For me.”

“For you,” you nodded. “Third evening.”

“After dinner, third evening.”

“Mhm. So we can go back up to your room after.”

“Yeah?”

“So I can shower and sleep.” You teased.

“Awe,” he sighed, kissing you again. You kept smiling as the two of you soon got up and chased each other back to his bedroom. After an hour or so, the both of you were tired enough to pass out intertwined. Under the covers this time, with a big day ahead of you both.

Your head on his chest in his bed in his home. It was soon to feel like yours too.

[thegettingbyp2]

Can you do one where jasper hale and the reader are doing the deed and Carlisle and Esme walk in on the thing happening. Thank you ❤️

Also fem reader plz

DRINK WATER thanks love ya

Caught

You whined softly as Jasper’s hips pushed gently into yours again, one of his hands firmly planted on the bed next to your head in order to keep his weight off of your body as his other hand trailed softly along your body. Jasper was getting better with understanding that you weren’t going to snap if he held onto you a bit tighter, but when it came down to sex, he was still terrified of hurting you. Your whine caused Jasper to stop suddenly as he looked down at you, bringing his hand up to your cheek.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he asked, worry filling his eyes.

‘No,’ you replied, running your hands up his chest, gripping onto his shoulders as you pulled yourself up, pressing your chest against his. Jasper brought his arm around your waist to keep you against him as he buried his head into your shoulder, kissing your skin gently. ‘Jasper you’d never hurt me. If you wanted, you could go faster, you know, harder?’ you continued, your cheeks heating up, suddenly glad that he wasn’t able to see your face.

‘(Y/N), I don’t think I’d be able to control myself, I barely have it together at the moment,’ he said, chuckling into your shoulder, his chuckle turning into a groan when he felt you clench around him.

‘I trust you,’ you said, pulling his head up until he was looking at you. ‘You won’t hurt me, please Jasper, it feels so good.’

Jasper looked at you for a few seconds before pressing his forehead to yours. ‘You tell me if I’m hurting you, okay?’

‘I promise,’ you said quickly, nodding your head as he lowered you back down against the bed. You shivered when you felt his grip tighten on you ever so slightly as he thrust into you again, a cry being torn from your lips at the force. Jasper continued to pick up the speed of his thrusts until he had a gasp falling from your lips every time his hips met yours. Dipping his head back down to the column of your throat, your breath stuck as you felt him graze his teeth along your skin, silently wondering what if would feel like if he sunk his teeth into you.

He was so lost in you that he didn’t hear the sounds of Carlisle and Esme coming back home from a hunt. Carlisle and Esme heard the sounds of your cries and instantly ran up the stairs, following the sound to Jasper’s room, afraid that their newest son had lost control while they had been away. When the door opened, Jasper’s gaze shot over to the movement and, upon seeing who it was, pulled out of you and wrapped your naked body in a blanket before you could blink.

‘You’d gone out,’ Jasper said, panting slightly, his body hovering protectively over you.

‘We had, but then we came home,’ Carlisle said, a small smile appearing on his lips.

‘We heard (Y/N) and thought,’ Esme trailed off when he saw the look of sadness and guilt that passed across Jasper’s face.

‘You thought that I’d lost control and hurt her,’ Jasper finished for her. ‘I’m getting better and - ’

The combination of your hand coming to rest gently on Jasper’s cheek and Carlisle’s words cut him off before he could start to get worked up. ‘We know, son. But with a human in a house full of vampires, that’s the first thing that comes to mind when,’ Carlisle gestured in front of him, his shoulders shaking with supressed laughter. ‘But we can go back out, let the two of you, you know,’ he said, smirking slightly as he wrapped his arm around Esme’s shoulders and led her back downstairs, closing the door behind them.

‘You know, for someone with amazing hearing, you probably should have heard them come in,’ you teased, trying to cheer Jasper up. It worked as a small smile replaced that sad frown that had taken over his features and he turned his attention back towards you.

‘Well sorry ma’am if I was a bit distracted,’ he replied, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. ‘I am getting better though right, being around you?’

‘Baby,’ you cooed, tugging him down until he was lying next to you and you curled your body into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. ‘You’re amazing, you didn’t need to get better at anything, you just had to get used to being around me. And based on what was interrupted, you’re definitely used to me being around,’ you said, unable to hide the smirk on your lips.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (22/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: This friendship is off to a great start. Or something like that.

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff because you all deserve it, tiny but of angst (because it wouldn't be my work if there wasn't angst in it), google translated French

Word Count: 2.9k

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A/N: tadaaaaaa. did my best and I hopefully have time to update this story weekly. feedback is appreciated!

The other side of the bed is empty when you open your eyes. 

Sunlight beams through the window and warms your face as you stretch your arms and lie back. A loud yawn escapes your mouth, but you are so well rested and relaxed that you don't care who can hear you. 

Charles is probably hanging around the apartment somewhere and you can't help but smile at the thought of him. 

You didn't expect you two to talk so soon, but now that the weight is off your shoulders and the secrets - both your unemployment and the Formula One thing - are out in the open, you feel a lot better. You slept well, snuggled up to Charles with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle. His warmth gave you security and comfort and although the road to this moment has been quite bumpy and rocky, you're glad you've finally arrived at this point. 

Pure friendship. 

It's the right thing to do, you tell yourself. This friendship is more important than anything else in this world. I'll be damned if I'm going to destroy the only good thing I have.

You lock your feelings deep inside you, bury them under many and thick layers of friendly affection so that no daylight can reach them. What remains inside you is silence, a pleasant, comforting silence. 

You don't have to worry about what his pet names mean to you. You don't have to worry about eventualities that will certainly not become reality anyway. You can be there for Charles, as a friend - as someone who is there for him. 

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and stand up. There are some fresh clothes for you on a small chest of drawers - a turquoise shirt and short gray Puma sports shorts - which you quickly slip into. As you open the door to your room, the smell of batter fills your nose. 

"Bonjour," Charles smiles at you as you enter the spacious, modern kitchen and sit down opposite him at the kitchen counter. Unlike last night, this time he's wearing a shirt and gray sweatpants, which hang low on his hips but still let you feel a little sigh of relief. With spatula in hand, he scrapes the pancake out of the pan to put it on a plate and slide it over to you. "How did you sleep?"

"Very well," you answer him and reach for the Nutella that is already in front of you. "And you?"

"Likewise." He turns off the stove and sits down next to you with another plate of pancakes. His knee nudges yours, but neither of you pulls your leg away. "The recipe is from my teammate. He says they're the best pancakes ever and I thought we could try them together."

As you spread the Nutella evenly on your pancake, you hand him the jar. His fingertips gently brush your hand. "So if they don't taste good, it's not your fault?" you grin and use your knife and fork to cut off a small piece before popping it into your mouth. 

Charles watches your every move. "That's right. So? Did he lie?"

You shake your head. The pancake in your mouth is warm and soft and fluffy, vanilla is definitely one of the ingredients and as you swallow the piece, a little of the delicious taste remains. "It's really delicious," you reply and spear another piece with your fork. "But I think it's also down to how the pancakes are made. The batter can be as good as it wants to be, but if it's made incorrectly - nope. Then it can't be saved."

Your Monegasque friend pours a little orange juice into the empty glass in front of you. "Was that a compliment to the chef?" A grin spreads across his face and he waggles his eyebrows. 

You playfully punch him in the shoulder with your fist. He pretends to almost fall off his chair. "My statement is to be considered purely objective."

Something flashes in Charles' green eyes, but before you can pinpoint it, he turns his gaze back to the breakfast. "I've heard you say that before," he mumbles before taking a bite. "But it really tastes great. I'll have to tell him when I see him again soon."

"What does your nutritionist say about you smearing so much Nutella on your pancake?" When he puts his index finger to his mouth, you have to smile. "Do you have to go back? To Italy?" The thought of Charles leaving you alone here in this big apartment makes you swallow hard. You only really talked to each other a few hours ago, does he really have to -

"No," he unintentionally interrupts your train of thought. "I don't think they want to see me there again so soon after I left yesterday. But that's just the way it is." He shrugs his shoulders. "More time for us." Before you can ponder the meaning of that sentence, he continues. "I know we've already talked this morning about what to do next, but I think we should discuss it again."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

The brunette purses his lips. "You said that you still want to be friends with me despite my job - and I think that's great - but you should really be sure."

"I am sure," you reply without hesitation.

"But you have to know what all this would mean for you if you take this," he points first to you and then to himself, "on. Dealing with all this is more difficult than you can imagine."

"All right," you reply, shoving the last piece of pancake into your mouth before washing it down with orange juice. "Go on then, Mr. Charles Leclerc."

He looks at you with a look that can't mean anything other than "Really?" before clearing his throat. "I've been in the public eye since I was little. It used to be karting, now it's Formula One. I'm used to people recognizing me, approaching me on the street and wanting to take photos. It's normal everyday life for me."

"Sounds a bit conceited," you joke, but Charles' expression suggests he's not in the mood for fun. "Okay. Je suis désolé."

"As soon as I leave the house, people talk about it. What I'm doing. Where I'm going. Who I'm spending time with. And my friends are set on the fact that when we're out and about, we can never be fully undisturbed." He chews on his lower lip for a moment. "With my female friends, things are a little more complicated."

"Meaning?"

He takes a deep breath. "As a Formula One driver, it's quite difficult to maintain friendships with the opposite sex. As soon as you do something together without anyone else around, it's portrayed as a date in the press or on social media. According to TikTok, I've had four new girlfriends since Annika and I split up. But nobody cares that they are the wives and girlfriends of my best friends. People see what they want to see. Even if it doesn't reflect the truth at all."

Without hesitation, you reach for his hand and stroke the back of it with your thumb. His skin is soft. "I'm terribly sorry about that. It must be awful."

Charles turns his hand a little so you can intertwine your fingers. "It's nothing new for me. It's more difficult for my friends. They are insulted, called names, judged. And all because they want to spend time with me, because that's what friends do. It's not fair. Not for anyone."

Now you understand why it's so important to Charles that you know this. His friendship has a price. And from what he tells you, it's not exactly cheap.

"The pressure on you would be huge. People will have opinions about you that you won't like. And no matter what you do, no matter how good you are - you won't be able to change them. And at some point, you'll be approached on the street without me, just because we're friends. The first time Joris was asked for a photo, he was completely taken aback."

You can see how much this is taking its toll on him and you don't even want to know how many friendships his name has already cost him. It's understandable that not everyone wants to take this risk, this life.

You squeeze his hand twice to attract his attention. When he looks at you, you smile. "Doesn't sound so bad," you try to cheer him up. The attempt fails miserably.

"I don't think you understand me." He shakes his head slightly and removes his hand from yours. "That's no small sacrifice. And there's no turning back once you do. You'll have no privacy once you leave this apartment. You'll be the talk of the town. About what you do, what you say and what clothes you wear. And all because we're friends."

You raise an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me then?"

He lowers his eyes again. His voice is quiet. "Just - me."

Your heart breaks for him. 

How can he not know how wonderful he is? Ever since you've known each other, Charles has always given you the chance to get out of things. He's let you have the bed, driven your rickety Renault to protect you from the public, pushed you away - disgustingly, but still. And all so that you could have a choice. 

You'd like to take him in your arms and hug him tightly, hoping you can patch up his shattered parts. And so you do. You get up from the chair and wrap your arms around him so tightly that he gasps in surprise. He slides off his chair into a firm stance so that your hands slide a little lower down his back. A moment later, when you feel one of his hands on your spine and the other in your hair, you press your cheek against his hard chest.

"I wish you could see yourself the way I do," you murmur against the soft fabric of his shirt, whereupon he presses you a little closer to him. 

"How do you see me?" he whispers against the top of your head. You feel his lips on your scalp. "Like a crazy, jealous guy who shows up at your place in the middle of the night and starts a fight with your ex?"

"You're an idiot." You lift your face from his chest and tilt your head back so you can look at him. He looks down at you. "You're such a wonderful person, Charles. And I would be honored if you wanted me as a friend."

"Are you really sure?" His warm breath brushes over your face. "There's so much you -"

"I'm sure," you interrupt him. 

"There's a series on Netflix you can watch so you can get a better understanding of -"

"I'm sure."

"Y/N, please -"

"Don't you want to be my friend?" You want to take a step backwards so you can really look at him, but he's so comfortably warm and his gaze is so heartbreaking that you don't want to let him go under any circumstances. 

"I want nothing more than that. Really." The hand that was in your hair a moment ago rests against your cheek and your thumb strokes it gently. "But there's so much you have to give up. And just for me."

You nestle your face against his warm skin. "You're all I have. And that's all I need."

His gaze softens and he gently kisses your forehead before holding you close one last time and then letting go. "The Netflix series isn't that good anyway. It doesn't reflect what really happens on race weekends." He sits back down at the counter and grabs another pancake. 

You join him. "I'm not surprised. Netflix will do anything to make money and twisting reality to make it more marketable is nothing new." You copy him with the pancake.

"Exactly. And if you want to know anything, you can ask me. Your friend - the Formula One driver," he grins, shoving a bite between his two jaws. 

"You said yesterday that this season has been a throwaway. What do you mean?" you ask him, emptying the bottle of orange juice into your glasses. 

Charles shrugs his shoulders. "The car and the strategies didn't work as they should have. The Scuderia made more cock-ups than you can stand."

You have to suppress a grin. "Then wouldn't it be smarter to call it the Screwderia?"

His gaze is emotionless as you look at him. "That's the worst joke I've ever heard." He smirks. "But you're right about that."

It's obvious that your friend feels a lot more comfortable now that he's told you the truth. The passion with which he talks about the sport is infectious, and you listen to him as attentively as you can. There's a sparkle in his eyes, his smile almost reaches your ears as he talks about his victories and podiums. 

How could you not want to be friends with him?

When you're done with breakfast, Charles sends you to explore the apartment while he does the dishes. After brushing your teeth and getting a bit more ready - you keep your clothes on, they're comfortable and Charles' after all - you wander through the rooms. 

The living room is kept simple, with white furniture and a comfortable-looking couch where you can watch the second part of Cars. Next to it on a shelf are several trophies and even helmets, which you take a quick look at.

There's even a white piano. A red rose arrangement with the word Love is placed on it. As you run your fingers over the wood of the instrument, you hear Charles enter the room. 

"The roses are from Annika. They're not real, so they can stay longer." He steps from one foot to the other. 

"Why haven't you thrown them away yet?" you ask him as you turn to face him. 

He shrugs his shoulders. "I haven't gotten around to it yet. And Annika was still living here until yesterday. So..."

You nod weakly and change the subject. "Have you been practicing here?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, I don't have much time to play because of Formula One. It was good to play in the bookshop. Even if it was completely improvised."

You remember every single note. The passion he poured into the keys to create an incredibly beautiful piece of music. The passion he felt. How beautiful he looked in the warm light. "It was beautiful. It really was."

"It's your song." He smiles lovingly. "It's as beautiful as you are."

Like magnets, you move towards each other. As he holds out his hand, you place yours in it so that he can gently turn you in a circle before pulling you close. Your hands rest on your chest and you feel his strong heartbeat under your fingertips as you smooth down his shirt. His hands are on your lower back, pressing you against him so that you arch towards him. 

"Charles."

"Mm-hmm." His gaze flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips, making your heart beat faster. 

You hypocrite, you hear your conscience say as your one hand slides to the nape of his neck and plays with the fine hair there. Charles closes his eyes and something you can only categorize as a moan escapes his throat. 

"Please don't stop," he whispers and leans his forehead against yours. The tips of your noses nudge against each other. 

"With what?" you ask softly, even though you know exactly what he means. 

"Touching me." His voice sounds almost like a deep groan. "Tu me fais tellement de bien.“ you feel so good.

You would never stop. It seems like an invisible boundary was torn down last night and you haven't been able to stop touching each other since. His knee against yours at breakfast. Your embrace. Your half-naked bodies pressed together a few hours ago when you were talking. 

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't stop touching him. 

Hypocrite, repeats the annoying voice in your head. 

Without thinking about it, you arch towards him another inch and Charles draws in a sharp breath. 

"Charles?" A woman's voice sounds from the hallway and the Monegasque opens his eyes. „Chéri, tu es à la maison?“ darling, are you home?

Your eyes search his as he suddenly breaks away from you and takes a step back. Panic is practically written all over his face. 

"Who's that?" you ask silently, but get no answer.

The footsteps from the hallway come closer and when you turn around, a woman is standing in front of you, looking first at you and then at Charles before her gaze lingers on you. "'Qui avons-nous là?“ who do we have here? she asks, walking towards you before grabbing your hands and giving you a kiss on the left cheek, then the right. 

"Maman, que fais-tu ici?" mom, what are you doing here? Charles asks hesitantly, taking a step towards you both. 

Maman?

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