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maximumsass · 4 months

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Don’t Forget to Breathe

Synopsis: It’s PECSA weekend as much as Melissa is excited to get her relaxation and party on, her girlfriend (aka you the beautiful reader) is absolutely dreading it due to your social anxiety. But you can see that your anxiety is rubbing off on her and now she's more concerned about you, then she's excited about going to PECSA. Will you be able to use your coping skills and actually enjoy yourself at PECSA with Melissa by your side or will you be consumed by your anxiety despite your best efforts of trying to lower it and end up in the hotel room the whole weekend?!

Author's Note: First I have to shout out @woman-simp for requesting the idea of going to PECSA with Mel and the reader having social anxiety but really not wanting to hinder Mel's PECSA experience. I thank you for the request, I never would've wrote this on my own so many thanks! i just really tried to convey the immense care and just all around cuteness Mel and the reader's relationship is. Honestly it's the relationship that I want my next relationship to be like! And i want that for all you beautiful people too!! Hope you enjoy it! Like always share your thoughts! And send me any requests you have! Sending y’all all da hugs and love!

Word Count: 3.5K

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It was Thursday night, the night before PECSA weekend. You had your suitcase open on your bed and you were running around like a chicken with your head cut off throwing everything you think you might need for the weekend in it. As you throw your favorite red bikini in it, you hear a snicker from the other side of the bed. You look up and see your girlfriend looking at you over her cat eye glasses trying to suppress another snicker.

“I’m so glad you find my packing anxiety amusing!” You say with a mock hurt expression.

“I’m sorry hun, you’re just so cute! And you have to admit it’s a little funny that you’re acting like you’ll never step foot into your place again.” She teases you with a chuckle.

“Hey, I gave you the option of us spending the night separately and then seeing each other tomorrow!” You retort and then stick out your tongue at the redhead. You quickly turn on your heels to the bathroom to double check you have everything in terms of toiletries.

You open the mirror that doubles as a medicine cabinet as you stare at it doing a mental inventory of all the medications you need. You feel strong arms wrap around your waist and then feel Melissa’s chin on your shoulder. You feel an instant release of the anxiety that had been buzzing around you just a second ago. You never had anyone in your life make you feel the calm that Mel has made you feel since you two started dating.

“I hope you know that I will never turn down an opportunity to spend the night with you angel. Especially if I know that your anxiety is rearing its ugly head. I know that you don’t want me to see you when you’re anxious, but it’s not just you anymore, anything that you go through from now on, I’m right beside you, we’re taking it head on together, let me in (Y/N), let me help you, let me take care of my girl.” She says softly and then gently kisses your cheek.

You take a deep breath. “I know, baby. I’m really trying to break down my walls to let you in, let you see all of me. It’s just a long and scary process. It may not seem like it but I’ve let you in more than I’ve let in anyone else. So that’s definite progress.” You say as you turn to face her and then take her face in your hands and place a slow and gentle kiss on those gorgeous red lips of hers.

When you break away, you turn back to the cabinet and grab two orange pill bottles.

“I thought you packed all your meds hun.” The redhead says with a concerned look on her face.

“I did but you know I am not the biggest fan of big crowds of people like there will be there at PECSA. I’m debating if I should just take both bottles, so I know I’m covered for the weekend.” You say as you stare at the bottles.

“That’s your anti-anxiety and panic attack meds right?” Mel asks and you nod your head. “Take both bottles, if not for you, do it for me so I know you’ll be good.” She gently instructs you.

You nod. As you take her hand and lead her back to the bedroom and place the meds in your suitcase. “See I’m already letting you take care of me.” You say to her with a grin.

“I see that! Now keep it up.” She says as she playfully bumps you.

You get this sinister look on your face. You quickly zip up your suitcase and place it on the floor. And then turn back to her with an evil grin.

“(Y/N) don’t you dare!” she screams playfully.

“I’m just smiling, I have no idea what you’re insinuating.” You say as you slowly step closer to her and then you lunge at her, pick her up, gently throw her on the bed and then get on the bed and lightly tickle her, her shrieks and your combined laughter fill the bedroom.

This turns into a passionate makeout session, which turns into you taking each other’s clothes off and a totally different kind of moaning fills the bedroom. You both sleep great and you wake up to your alarm, with the redhead’s head on your chest and arm curled around you. This is probably the cutest thing Melissa does with you, before y’all fall asleep she always makes sure she’s holding you and then she will not let go of you, even in her deepest sleep she doesn’t let go of you, and if you somehow you break away from her, just give her a few minutes and she will be holding you again. Even when y’all need to get up, it takes a bit of convincing for her to let you go. For a badass bitch who no one messes with, the fact that you get to see this cotton candy soft side of her, you know is a real honor.

“Baby, it’s time to get up.” You say softly in her ear.

“Mmmmmm noo, five more minutes.” She mumbles into your chest.

“We really need to get up gorgeous. You know how Barb will be if we make her wait.” You say softly.

You try to slide out from under her arm, this just makes her hold you tighter.

“No I don’t wanna let you go!” she whines playfully.

“What would the others say if I said that Melissa Schemmenti was a complete and utter cuddle bug in bed?” You tease as you kiss her forehead.

“Well one you wouldn’t dare! And two they totally wouldn’t believe you!” She said in a matter of fact tone as she traced patterns on your chest.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t tell them. Mostly because I love it when you’re like this.” You say as you softly kiss her.

“I love that you love it, I wasn’t like this with Joe or anyone else for that matter. You make me feel so safe and so happy, and I just want to be close to you at all times, it helps me stay grounded because a lot of the time this feels too good to be real.” She says as she looks at you with vulnerability mixed with adoration.

“I promise this is real and that you deserve to feel so safe and happy. I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel those things every day. And will always want you to hold me. ” You say as you gaze into her eyes. And then kiss her passionately, tongues colliding, lips dancing with each other, you pull her beautiful naked body so it’s pressed up against your nakedness. You both moan as your bodies make contact.

When you break away to get oxygen, Jessical Rabbit gives you a smirk. “You Miss We Need to Get Up Right Now, are not making it easy to get up.” She says as she gets this devious look on her face, and then she is simultaneously sliding her fingers along your folds while simultaneously giving your nipple a playful nibble. And then before you can comprehend what’s happening, she is climbing over you and walking to the bathroom.

“Dibs on the first shower!” She calls back to you.

“Now that’s just cruel!” You exclaim with sexual frustration.

You hear her chuckle to herself in the bathroom. You throw on some PJ’s and then order some surprise coffees to be delivered for the redhead. Barb, and yourself.

When she comes into the kitchen, you can’t help but smile. She's wearing a green tank top with a denim button down shirt and black leggings that show off her gorgeous legs and of course that juicy ass of hers.

“Even though you were mean to me, I got you a surprise coffee.” You say teasingly as you hand her the coffee and take another bite of the french toast stick you made for yourself while waiting for her to finish.

“Oh my god. Do not tell me that’s the frozen shit you used to survive before we got together?! I was gonna make us but you especially breakfast! You need more nutrition and calories, Miss I am 100 lbs soaking wet!” She exclaims in an exasperated tone.

You put on the puppy dog eyes and a faux pout. “115 lbs wet, thank you very much! And I was hungry and I didn’t want us to be late because you would’ve insisted on making me something because god forbid, I go without a meal on your watch.’ You say rolling your eyes.

“You can act annoyed all you want, I know you love how much I fuss over you and take care of you. I wouldn’t have to fuss if you would make caring for yourself a priority. I know it’s something that you’re working on in therapy, but until you’re there, I will always make your well-being one of my highest priorities and make sure you are doing the things you need to so we can live a long healthy life together.” She says as she wraps you in a warm hug and kisses your head.

“I’m going to get ready. Thank you for always having my best interest in mind, especially when I forget to do that for myself.” You say as you kiss her cheek.

“Hey before you go, I thought of something in the shower. I remember you saying that when you’re in the midst of high anxiety, you forget to breathe. So I had an idea. When you feel yourself going into that high anxiety mode, just remember me saying to you, “Don’t Forget to Breathe” and then do three deep breaths. And if I can see your anxiety spiking, I’ll say Don’t Forget to Breathe and we’ll do three deep breaths together. Will you at least try it once with me now? And see how you feel?” She asks in a pleading tone.

“Okay, I’ll try it, just for you.” You say to her as you rub her arm.

You look directly into each other's eyes. “Don’t forget to Breathe.” She gently instructs and then as if your souls become one you take three deep breaths in unison.

You both stare at each other for a moment, letting the silence wash over both of you. You actually feel yourself tearing up, and see that her emerald eyes have tears in them too.

“You are the most thoughtful person I’ve ever met. And from just listening to my experiences, you’ve come up with a coping skill that I think will actually help me. I really do feel better after doing that. And the fact that you came up with it, just makes it all the more meaningful for me. I never thought someone could care this much for me. I’m so grateful for you Mel and you just mean the world to me.” You wrap her in a hug and just hold her trying to transfer all the gratitude and all the love you have for her. And then after you hug and kiss for a little bit you head to the bathroom to shower.

When you are all done getting ready, you grab Mel’s and your bags and bring them to the front door so you can just head out. You walk back to the kitchen and see Mel and Barb sitting at the table chatting. You watch your girlfriend smile so big and toss her head back as she laughs, you love seeing Mel like this, so free.

“Good Morning my two gorgeous ladies!” You greet them chipperly.

“(Y/N)! Good Morning! Melissa told me you were behind the coffee I so needed this morning. How very thoughtful of you dear!” She says as she smiles brightly at you. “You have a wonderful woman on your hands Melissa, if you have any sense which I know you do, you’ll keep her around for the rest of your life, because you deserve to be treated like the queen you are and that little girl obviously understands the homework!” She says as she looks at her friend with a I know best look.

“Aww Barb, that's so sweet of you to say! And for future reference it’s understood the assignment, not the homework. But you were close!” You say to the brunette.

As Melissa loads both of your bags in the car because she insisted that she get yours too, and who can argue with a little chivalry, you pull Barb aside.

“I need to ask you a favor. I’ve told you a little about my anxiety. Crowds like the crowds at PECSA aren’t the ideal environment for me. But don’t worry, I’m fine and I’ll handle it. My favor of you is to keep Melissa entertained/distracted so she doesn’t worry about me this whole conference. I know this is one of the few times she unwinds and lets her hair down and actually has fun, and I will not be the one who takes that way from her.” You say as you look at Barb pleadingly.

“Of course I will (Y/N). But if you’re not okay, please let one of us know so we can help.” She says with a concerned look.

You just smile at her because asking for help is the very last resort for you and the likelihood of you asking for it is slim to none.

The car ride there is great because Barb and Melissa just talk the whole way as you doze in the back.

Melissa looks at you in the rear view mirror she smiles to herself, you look so peaceful as you sleep, she wishes that she could make you feel that peaceful for the entire conference.

“I’m worried about (Y/N) Barb. Being around this many people isn’t good for her anxiety. I just wish I could take on her anxiety so she doesn’t have to go through this shit.” She says quietly to her friend.

“I know it’s hard to watch someone you care about struggle and feel like there’s nothing you can do to comfort them. But you and I both know what a strong, independent, intelligent, and very capable young woman (Y/N) is, I know she’ll be just fine and just having you there I’m sure is a great comfort to her.” Barb says as she gently squeezes the redhead’s arm in assurance.

You get to the hotel, you check in and then Mel checks in. Mel and Barb discuss making an appearance at the opening EXPO and making their presence known before they hit the pool. You already feel the anxiety building up within you just seeing the vast number of people in the lobby who are checking in.

You don’t notice Mel and Barb’s conversation has ended until you hear your name being called and you feel a hand on your arm. You snap back to the lobby, you look down at the hand on your arm and then you realize Melissa is standing in front of you with a very concerned look on her face.

“You ready to go?” You ask, trying to act like nothing happened.

She takes a deep breath trying to calm herself down. “(Y/N), I had to say your name five times and touch you until you could answer me. Don’t act like that didn’t just happen. Are you okay?” She says in a concerned and frustrated tone.

“I’m fine angel, just tired, let’s just go find our room.” You say as you take her hand and squeeze it trying to comfort her a little.

“Hey. Look at me. Don’t forget to breathe.” She says and then you proceed to do three deep breaths together. And then you walk to the room hand in hand.

We get to the room and unpack, I tell Melissa that since I have to go to the sessions for my Continuing Education Credits, I’m skipping the EXPO and going to the pool and she and Barb can meet me there. I put on my red bikini as she gets ready for the EXPO.

“You better make it very clear to everyone that flirts with you because of how irresistible you look, that you are very much taken, and your girlfriend would do slightly unethical things to them if they tried anything with you.” She says with a smirk, you know it’s 40% of a joke, 60% of her being serious and just waiting for someone to fuck around and find out.

“You know that you are the only person in the world who has my heart, and that’s a forever kinda thing gorgeous.” You say softly as you kiss her.

“How do you always know just what to say to make me feel better?” She asks after we stopped kissing.

“It’s my special talent.” You say giving her a grin.

“It sure is. Okay I’m off to get Barb. See you at the pool, pretty girl.” She says as she kisses your head and rushes out of the room.

The rest of the day flies by, you sit by the pool by yourself and just enjoy the mellow vibes playlist that sends you into a zen bliss. Barb and Mel find you at the pool and you sit on a pool lounge chair with Mel, her legs draped over your lap as you listen to Barb and her talk while rubbing your hands over the redhead’s legs, and of course the redhead cant keep her hands off of you especially since she’s drank some of her pina colada. You then go and get dressed, and then go find Janine and Jacob to endure the sessions with. It’s not as bad as you thought, the only thing that spikes your anxiety is when everyone is filing into the sessions. You hear Melissa’s voice in your head, “Don’t forget to breathe.” And then three deep breaths just like you did with her at your place and the lobby. Before you know it, it’s PECSA Party time, the thing you’ve been dreading the most about PECSA.

You get ready in your room, Melissa is still with Barb you assume, they probably got ready and are having the time of their lives at the party. You are in the bathroom doing your makeup, and you hear someone try once, twice, three times before the door comes flying open.

“Baby!!!” Melissa squeals when she finds you in the bathroom.

You can’t help but laugh at your clearly tipsy girlfriend.

“Well someone’s had a fun day.” You chuckle.

“It’s been so much fun! I love Barb! And I love mathorita’s!” She exclaims.

“I will definitely have to try one of those mathorita’s. Now before we go back down, you have to drink this whole bottle of water. Okay?” You say as you pull out a bottle of water from the mini fridge. You take off the cap and hand her the bottle. She nods and starts drinking.

“Okay I’m ready!” You say as you walk out, the redhead is looking at her phone, when she looks up her jaw drops. You’re wearing this tight black bodycon dress that accentuates all of your curves.

“(Y/N), you look absolutely stunning. How did I get so lucky to have the most gorgeous woman at this conference on my arm and that you’re my girl?” She says in genuine surprise.

“You are the most gorgeous woman at this conference, miss.” You say as you smile at her. She comes over and hugs you.

“You feel tense, babe. Are you okay? We don’t have to go to the party, y’know we can just stay here, order some food, I can take this gorgeous dress off of you and then please you until I see you in that orgasmic bliss that I can’t get enough of.” She says as she gives you a seductive look.

That is literally all you want to do tonight. But you know how much Melissa loves the PECSA parties and you won’t be the reason why she doesn’t get to shut a PECSA Party down.

“No, let's go to the party, I promise I’m fine. Let’s go get our party on with Barb!” You exclaim.

“Okay but we have to do one thing before we walk out the door.” The redhead says with a smile.

You lock eyes with her. “Don’t forget to breathe.” She gently instructs. And then once again you breathe deeply three times in unison.

The party actually isn’t as bad as you think. And when your anxiety did ramp up, Melissa would instantly feel it sometimes before you felt it and would whisper those four words in your ear and then you’d breathe in unison and then be able to ground yourself enough to enjoy the moment you were in.

As Barb described the party the next morning “It was a film!” And you had to agree it was definitely a movie. One that did end with the redhead taking off your dress and sending you right into that orgasmic bliss.

#wlw #abbott elementary #fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lesbian #queer #pansexual #biseuxal #girls like girls

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kenny-the-ken · 1 year

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Alone at Last Pt 1

Kyle's fic should be out already by the time this gets posted, so I hope you guys enjoy it!! This one I am sooooo excited for, I might actually make it a small series, drug dealer Kenny is my weakness, cause he most definitely would sell drugs, and take drugs most likely. Warnings: NSFW content, not suitable for minors, drugs, alcohol and strong language!! AGED UP CHARACTERS

"Let's get the fuck outta hear." Kenny spoke to you on the phone, he'd had another argument with his parents, and this was the final straw.

"They think I'm a like a charity! I sell drugs for a living, I ain't gonna make no money if they keep taking all my product!" He shouted, loud enough for his parents to hear, and you could hear them screaming back at him in the background.

"Ken, babe, come over." Your tone was gentle, calming, and that was just what Kenny needed right now, he physically and mentally couldn't take it anymore. He was trying his best to make the most out of a shitty situation, and once again his parents were ruining it.

"I will babe, not until I pack all my shit first, I ain't coming back to this shithole, I'd rather shoot myself in the head again, it's more enjoyable." He shouted back at his parents, and you knew his frustrations. You and Kenny had been dating for a while now (3 years), and you had lost track of how many arguments he and his parents have had over the years, and how many times Kenny had appeared at your house, battered and bruised.

"My mom's out, Ken. Come over." You said once more, and Kenny let out a long sigh, you could hear rustling in the background, as if things were being put into plastic bags.

"I'll be there in ten. I love you."

"I love you too, Ken."

And with that the line went dead. You knew Kenny's resolve was worn incredibly thin, much like your own. Your mother was no where near as bad as Kenny's parents, but she put drugs and men before you, she always had and she always would. You were just thankful that you were an only child, Kenny wasn't that lucky.

You sat pondering in your own thoughts as you heard a loud knock at the door, and you opened it, Kenny walking inside, his car parked outside, and looking full to the brim with his possessions.

"When's your mom coming back?" Kenny asked, wrapping his slender arms delicately around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"Not a fucking clue, she never even tells me when she's heading out, never mind when she's coming back. Why, what's wrong?" You enquired, wrapping your own arms around Kenny's neck, balancing on your tip toes to place a kiss on his lips before he spoke.

"I meant what I said on the phone, y/n. Pack your stuff, we're getting the fuck outta this god forsaken town once and for all. Somewhere we'll not be judged for not being well off, somewhere we can actually thrive together. The only good thing that's came from living here is meeting you, please say you'll come with me?" His eyes were soft, pleading with you to join him, and you smiled back at him, his serious face melting away into one of sheer relief.

"Let's do it. We've got each other, we don't need anyone or anything else. Come help me pack." You spoke, taking Kenny by the hand, leading him to your bedroom.

"We could always get frisky before we go." Kenny flirted, giving your ass a slap, making you jump in surprise, spinning to look at him.

"Or I could suck you off while you drive down the freeway?" You offered, knowing that Kenny would never turn down an offer like that.

"Then what are we waiting for babe, let's get your stuff packed and get this show on the road!" Kenny exclaimed, a smirk on his face as you both began cramming clothes, shoes, makeup and anything else you owned into two large suitcases. You lifted your glass bong and Kenny took it from you.

"I've got a box in the back of the car that this can go into so it doesn't get broken, babe." He said, pulling an unlit joint from his jacket pocket, placing it delicately between his chapped, pale pink lips and sparking it up, taking a long drag of it and exhaling, passing it to you.

"You ready to go, babe?" You asked as Kenny took down one of the pictures from your bedroom wall, and put it under his arm.

"Can't forget our prom photo, now can we? Now get your sexy ass into the car and I'll bring your stuff out and put it in the back." Kenny spoke, as you passed the joint back to him, it now hanging from his lips lazily as he puffed on it a few times.

And finally, once everything was inside, you both smiled at each other, smoking the joint between you both as Kenny rolled down all the windows as the car reached the last part of South Park.

"See you never, assholes!" Kenny shouted from the window, and you let out a few whoops yourself, both of you smiling stupidly at each other on your way to make a new life.

#kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick x reader #eric cartman #kenny south park #stan marsh #kyle south park #kyle brovlofski #stan south park #south park #south park smut #south park headcanons #south park x y/n #south park x reader #south park kenny

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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months

Note

uhm

Pavitr x wife f!reader: Pavitr noticed that the reader has been feeling really tired lately so he takes her to a love hotel 😌

The Escape

Pavitr x Wife!Reader

TW/CW: Fluff, NSFW, smut, established relationship, marriage, PiV sex, protected sex (condom), morning sex, somnophilia (pre-established consent), grinding

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Pavitr is obviously an adult in this fic, so anons can stop screeching into my ask box

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You had a very bad day at work today. First, your best mop broke while you were cleaning the main room of the building you were contracted to clean this week, then, you had to listen to your boss harp at you for taking too long when she said she wouldn't reimburse you or replace said mop you bought for work; the mop that was steam-powered and easier on your back to push around.

Now you were back to using a regular janitorial bucket and mop and god, you were hurting so bad.

You wanted to go home, crawl in bed, and sleep for a month.

You were just thankful today was the last day you'd have to clean that god-forsaken building, and you'd get to take two weeks to relax.

Of course, you'd do so with your golden retriever of a husband, Pavitr Prabhakar. His cuddles were some of the best ever, and you knew you'd be able to recharge the moment you snuggled up into him on your bed and drifted off to sleep.

What you weren't expecting to come home to, however, is packed suitcases neatly organized by the front door, Pavitr wearing an adorably dorky shirt with dog patterns on it, a big sunny grin on his face.

"Uh--Pav?" You blink.

"Okay, okay, I know this is weird!" He laughed, shaking his hands and rubbing the back of his neck. "But c'mon! I know you've been exhausted with work the past month, and now that you have a couple weeks to relax... We could take a trip!"

Your jaw hung agape as he continued. "I booked a hotel for us. It's on the edge of Mumbattan, but the view is amazing! I got lucky and scored some coupons in a raffle, so I only had to pay half price! It's one of those swanky hotels that normally cost like... two weeks worth of a paycheck. But I paid waaaaaaay less."

You felt your heart do a funny little flip at his gesture of love. "Pavitr..."

"I know." He smiled at you bashfully, holding your hands in his excitedly. "As soon as we get there, we can take a nice long nap, the two of us. Then we can order dinner or eat at the restaurant in the hotel!"

"What about.... Y'know. Your Spider-Man stuff?" You asked him.

"Well, things on the streets seem calm this past month, and I went on ahead and told Miguel what I was planning. He's not as scary as everyone says! He waved his hand off and told me to come home and take care of you. Cool, right?"

You made a mental note to bake some cookies for Miguel as a thank you for that.

"C'mon, lovie. Pretty please?" He said, sticking out his bottom lip and giving you his sweetest little puppy dog eyes.

You always caved when he did that...

"Okay, okay..."

"Yay! Now, I packed your suitcase for you so you don't have to do anything but sit and look pretty! Let's go!" He winked at you.

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Pavitr was not lying, the hotel was gorgeous. It had an indoor pool with a waterfall, a hot tub, and two restaurants plus a bar surrounding the swimming areas.

You two ate at one of the restaurants, and despite your exhaustion, you were enjoying yourself. You were having a wonderful time and trip with your darling goofball of a husband (who tripped and fell in the pool because he wasn't watching where he was going, soaking his clothes all the way through.).

When you got back to the room, you and Pavitr took a nice long bath together, taking turns washing each other and running fingers through each other's hair.

When you dried off and flopped down onto the plush bed--you didn't even bother with nightclothes--you decided it was the perfect way to end the night.

But Pavitr had... other ideas. You felt his warm hand on the curve of your spine and you turned your head to look over at him, and his eyes were so warm and patient.

"Heyyy... I'm not done spoiling you, yet, lovie." He said softly to you

"Pav, I don't think you need to do more for me for the rest of my life. Today was amazing." You sigh sweetly with a smile.

"No, no, this is definitely something you need." He hummed, getting up off the edge of the bed and walking over to his suitcase, rummaging through it until he pulled out a small bottle.

He turned and wiggled it, a wide grin on his face. "Your back's been hurting, right? I wanted to massage it for you. Then we can sleep."

You blink a little dumbly at him as he walked back over to you. On one hand, you did want to cuddle up and sleep. On the other hand, a massage sounds heavenly on your sore shoulders and back...

You sigh and giggle, propping your arms beneath the pillow cushioning your head as you close your eyes. "Go ahead, hon."

You didn't need to have your eyes open to know he pumped his fist in victory, a happy twinkle in his eyes.

Not long after, you feel his weight straddle the backs of your thighs and then he dribbles the oil onto your skin it was warm, and the first scent that hits you is the vanilla, immediately chased by lavender.

When his hands smoothed the oil around, you sigh once more in bliss, before making a soft noise when you feet his thumbs begin to press soft circles into the tense muscles of your shoulders.

"Oh, my poor girl." He said, his voice sad as he introduced pressure from his other fingers. "My beautiful girl is all tense and hurting? Makes my heart hurt!"

You make a soft whimper when his nimble fingers, calloused from years of web-slinging and crime-fighting begin to massage the body oil into your skin as he works on each knot as slowly as possible, ensuring he eases it out completely before moving onto the next.

By the time he's moved onto your back, you're a squirming and whimpering mess. It was such a weird feeling; a mix of pleasure, pain, and almost a sensation of being tickled. It was a cocktail you found yourself getting drunk and sleepy off of. You weren't sure where one knot started and the other ended, because he was undoing them with such efficiency.

"Hey... you okay?" Pavitr asked you quietly, kissing your shoulder.

"Mhmm." You hummed against the pillow.

"You sound like you're falling asleep." He grinned.

"'m not." You deny, your tone completely betraying your lie. You really were on the verge of sleep, your mind foggy and dancing on the precipice of dreams.

"You're so cute. Go on ahead and sleep, babygirl." Pavitr hums, placing more kisses on your neck.

And before you knew it, you were out like a light.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

When you woke up, you were first made aware that Pavitr was pressed up against you, passed out and dressed in nothing but his boxers, with one of his knees brought firmly between your thighs.

You usually woke up this way, with Pavitr doing his best impression of a koala bear, snoring softly in his sleep. Normally, it was adorable.

But right now it was far from innocent and adorable.

You could feel the unmistakable outline of his cock throbbing against the swell of your ass. Whatever he was dreaming, it was certainly nice, judging by how he was rutting against you lazily, whimpering as his hot breath fanned against your neck in short, needy pants.

You felt a twinge of guilt; with your workload lately you and your darling husband hadn't had time to be intimate, really, so he must feel pretty pent up.

Almost as pent up as you are beginning to realize you are, actually. The sounds he was making, the way his bulge rubbed against you, and the way he'd mutter your name? It was like a fire was lit down low in your belly, the hot sticky mess between your legs pressing hard against his leg when he brought it higher.

If you didn't know any better, you knew he was awake and merely playing with you. But you knew Pavitr in every way possible. He was definitely asleep. He slept like a brick. It's why his alarms were loud enough to burst your eardrums, you teased him.

You bite your lip and roll your hips back against him, feeling his chest rise and fall with a stuttering breath as he whimpered into your hair.

Oh, poor Pavitr...

This was nice, but it wasn't enough for you.

It made you feel another snag of guilt as you pulled away to roll over and face him, but the moment your warmth left his, Pavitr rolled over onto his back, one hand rested on his belly as he breathed deeply, his face flushed with whatever erotic dream his subconscious kicked up for him to enjoy.

You smiled down at him as your eyes hungrily drank in his cute, messy hair, his needy expression and toned, fit body. He was a gorgeous man. Adorable yes, but also gorgeous. Every time he wore a tight shirt, you'd always catch women just staring oh so shamelessly at him.

You'd always feel a bit smug; special. Because you knew you were the only woman Pavitr would let touch him, the matching gold rings on your fingers solidified that knowledge, gave it physical shape.

You drag your fingers up one of his thighs in a feather-light caress slowly but surely making your way to the bulge straining so tight against his boxers.

You let out a satisfied hum, as you palm the thickness of it softly, stroking him through the cotton as you watched the swell of it twitch and strain against the stitching.

Biting your lip, you leaned over him, hooking your thumbs around the waistband of his boxers and slowly peeled them down, freeing the aching length of his dick to allow it to flop to the side a bit, the cool air making it twitch as it was finally given room to rise to full mast.

Your eyes flicked up to Pavitr's sleeping face as his expression relaxed, no doubt in relief that his poor cock wasn't being squished by his underwear any longer. He was still making those sounds, but still dreaming, you could tell, by the way his long black eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks.

You wrap your hand around his girth and give a few experimental pumps as you circle your clit with your fingers, idly toying with your own wetness as you try to decide the next course of action.

And that's when it hits you.

Grinning, you pull away, watching as the twitch of his cock laments the loss of your touch while you shimmy out of your ruined panties and carefully straddle his waist.

You stayed, your dripping heat hovering over his cock as you looked down at him, your hands braced on either side of his head as his face twisted while something in his dream shifted.

And oh, when you felt the velvety heat of his cock grind against your clit, it was wonderful. The prominent vein that ran the length of the underside of his cock added the perfect friction for you to rub against; your dripping slick adding perfect lubricant to allow you to glide on him effortlessly.

Your eyes roll back as your breathing gets heavy, feeling a tingle at the base of your spine slowly spread up, your toes curling slightly at just how hot this all is. You haven't done this in particular in a while, playing around with him while he slept. The first time you did it you thought he'd be upset, but he quickly assured you that it was the most amazing way to be woken up in the morning. A million times better than his favorite snack and coffee, first thing.

You make a soft noise as his hips rut upwards against you, adding extra stimulation whilst your breath gets caught in your throat.

Your eyes snap open when hands slide up your thighs to grip at your ass, pulling you down harder to grind on Pavitr's cock.

"Oh... 'm-morning to you, too." Pavitr panted up at you, a love-drunk smile on his face as his eyes blink drowsily up at you.

"Morning baby." You breathe, leaning down to kiss him.

"Don't stop." He groaned as your lips broke apart.

"I wasn't planning on it." You chuckle breathlessly and lean down to kiss his bobbing Adams apple.

"I... I put some condoms in the nightstand last night, if you wanna..."

You groan deeply in your chest. Yeah, yeah you definitely wanted him inside of you, right now.

"Right." You say, clearing your throat as you leaned away from him, stopping that delicious friction as you quickly rifle through the drawer, fishing out the needed foil packet.

You hastily tear it open and pull out the rubber item, and slowly, almost achingly so, roll it down his length until it was snug at the base of his cock.

"God--" He whimpered, hips stuttering up into your touch.

"I know, baby." You sigh, climbing on top of him again as his hands squeeze your thighs briefly, moving up to your hips while your delicate fingers line his cock up with your wanting hole.

"'M not gonna last long." You tell him, your voice trembling as you lower yourself down, sinking his cock all the way in one smooth stroke.

The sound that came from within his chest made your toes curl again. "I--I know." Pavitr groaned. "Me either."

You languidly rolled your hips, dragging his throbbing length through your tight, velvety walls, the ribs and bumps on the condom making your eyes roll back with a whimper.

Pavitr was definitely feeling more awake, now, because he was thrusting up into you with wanton desperation his feet bracing on the mattress as you drove yourself down to meet his hips, gyrating and rolling against him; the tip of his cock ramming against your sweet spot with every thrust, making you practically squeal.

"Right there?" He pants, his hand reaching up to grope at one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh gently in his palms, marveling at how the fat squishes beneath his fingers.

"Yes!" You whine, bracing your hands on his chest for support as you rode yourself closer to your orgasm.

God, you needed this. You both did. The two of you had been so stressed out and run taut that you felt you both were going to snap. Half the time, when you two finally met at home, you were too tired to do more than eat, shower, and sleep.

Yes, cuddles were nice, but sometimes a husband and his wife just absolutely needed to rail each other until their eyes crossed, y'know?

Yeah... you made a mental note to squeeze sex into your future schedules, after this. You were so drunk off this ecstasy that neither of you were sure you could go longer than a day or two without it ever again. The distance your schedules imposed on the two of you just made the euphoria that much stronger.

And god, when you came, it felt like all the stress of the past few weeks completely ebbed away with each contraction of your muscles around his hard length; your wet, needy walls milking him for everything his body promised he could give you.

"Gh--tight..." He groaned, tilting his head back and gritting his teeth, the hand that was groping at your chest joined the other at your hips, helping you rise and fall on him, helping you ride out your orgasm as he so desperately tried to pitch himself over that edge he was teetering on.

You were so thankful he thought ahead of time for condoms, whimpering as his hips slammed up into you, threatening to make you cum a second time in less than a minute.

Neither of you were ready for a baby just yet, and you hadn't found a birth control that didn't make you sick. It was Pavitr's idea you get off your birth control in the first place, because he hated how sick you'd get, how uncomfortable you were.

So... You both opted for condoms and emergency contraceptives in case something happened while you had sex.

And fuck. Were you worried you'd need to take some, right now, with how you felt the condom swell and strain as he pumped his thick load into the thin rubber.

You were worried it was going to burst, especially with how he was rabbiting his hips up into yours as he chased the waning flames of his coital haze as your tight hole milked him dry.

It didn't, and you were glad of the fact as you dropped down, laying across his chest as the two of you heaved for some fresh air, your lungs burning desperately with each drag.

"Good morning. Again." You mumble with a giggle against his sweaty skin.

"Oh, yeah. It definitely is, now." He grinned, his hand running up and down your back in a loving caress.

"I hope you know we're not leaving this room for the rest of the day, now, right?" Pavitr asked you.

Oh, your fluffy, doofy husband had some of the best ideas...

#🌙 answered #pavitr prabhakar #pavitr prabhakar x reader #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr x reader #pavitr x you #spiderverse smut

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milf-murdock · 7 days

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Kate Laswell, Back in the Field

Kate Laswell x Wife!Reader

Summary: Kate breaks the news to you that she’s going back in the field after promising you she retired from fieldwork. Warnings: canonical type swearing, mild hurt/comfort, brief mentions of fertility clinic at the very end, established relationship (marriage, obviously), Kate’s lil pet name for reader is Bunny 🥲 A/N: Based off That™ line from the game (tiktok link found here). It’s about time I write something proper for Love of My Life, Kate Laswell.

The suitcase lands on the bed with a thud. Kate slides the zipper open, mentally taking stock of everything she’ll need to pack. This wasn’t her first rodeo…but she did have to admit it had been a while since her last one.

“You can’t be serious, Kate,” you scoff from the doorway of your shared bedroom.

“You already know I’m serious, Bunny,” Kate sighs as she pulls several pairs of underwear from the dresser drawer. “I told you, I need this done right.”

“Then send somebody else. Somebody you trust.” You spit out the suggestion through gritted teeth, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“There is no one else, Bun.”

“You promised you were done.”

Kate doesn’t even look at you as she pulls out a few pairs of heavy duty cargo pants and tosses them on the bed. You close the distance from the doorway to the bed, slamming the lid of the suitcase shut, forcing Kate to finally look up and meet your eyes, shining with unshed tears.

“You promised, Kate.” Your voice waivers, bottom lip quivering.

Fuck. It would’ve hurt less if she punched me straight in the gut, Kate thinks to herself. She can’t stand to see her darling wife cry. She steps around the bed closer to you, taking your face between her hands.

“I know, my love. And I am so sorry I have to break that promise.” You shut your eyes at the words, fresh tears finally falling from your thick eyelashes. Kate swipes them away with her thumbs. “I am sorry. But I need you to understand, I have to do this. Okay?”

“Why?”

“You know why,” Kate’s response is firm as she drops her hands from your face. She turns and walks back to the closet, grabbing a few clean shirts and tossing them onto the pile. “I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important.”

You sniffle and wipe the remaining tears from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?” You grab one of the shirts from the top of the pile and busy your hands, meticulously folding the garment.

You can hear Kate’s responding sigh from all the way in the bathroom. “You know I can’t tell you that.” She reappears in the doorway, toothbrush in hand. “You know the drill, Bun. The less you know, the better.”

The shirt wrinkles in your hands as you ball your fists before throwing it on the bed with all the force you can muster.

“You don’t get it, Kate!” You exclaim, tears flowing once more, face heated with frustration. “You have no clue how it feels to be left here, alone, not knowing anything. Not knowing if you’re safe, not knowing if you’re even fucking alive.”

Kate makes a move to interrupt your outburst, but you stop her in her tracks with a hard glare.

“And then I finally think we have closed this chapter. You promised that it was over. The last mission was The Last mission. I thought we were safe–I thought you were safe. And then you come home out of the blue and tell me you’re going back in the field? What the fuck, Kate?”

Your emotions cut you off before you can continue, throat closing up as you fight back another wave of tears. You give up, taking a defeated seat on the edge of the bed.

Kate pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, brow furrowing. “I know,” she sighs. She takes another deep, stabilizing breath before making her way to your side. “I know that this isn’t fair to you.”

She kneels down in front of you, eyes searching yours. “And you’re right, I have no idea what you’re going through,” she continues, taking your hands in hers. “Because I know that you’re here, safe and sound–that’s what gives me the strength to do what I need to do. But it must be so hard for you, honey.”

You nod your head in agreement, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I am so sorry for that,” Kate sighs. “But I need you to be brave for me one last time, okay? I need you to hold things together just one final time for me. Please.”

You look into those blue-grey eyes you adore so much, and see the fierce, strong-willed woman you fell in love with all those years ago. You see all of the love in her eyes, but also that relentless determination you knew all too well–that’s your Kate.

Your shoulders fall with a resigned sigh. “Just promise me you’ll try to be careful.”

At that, Kate pulls you in, pressing a kiss to your lips as her hand tangles in your hair, holding you tight to her. When she finally breaks the kiss, she rests her forehead against yours. “I promise,” she says, just a little breathless, before pressing another, softer kiss to your lips.

“And hey,” Kate smiles, finger lifting your chin up to meet her eyes. “When I get back, we’ll go to the fertility clinic, okay? We’ll get this process started and get the donor sorted. How’s that sound?”

Your face lights up at that comment with a smile that melts Kate’s heart instantly. “There’s that smile I love so much,” Kate smiles in return.

You can’t help but small chuckle before giving your wife another sad, soft smile. “Just come back safe to me, Kate, okay?”

“Always,” Kate reassures her, pressing another kiss to her lips.

#kate laswell x reader #kate laswell #Kate laswell imagine #Kate laswell x you

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loupy-mongoose · 10 months

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It's not necessary, but I found this song to be a good fit to this part. :3 (Steve Morgan--Into the Night)

~~~~~~

He snapped the suitcase shut.

Taking a step back from the bed where it lay, he sighed.

The day was upon them.

It was time to begin the flight to Hoenn.

He found himself thinking back to the last time he'd visited his mom. Far too long ago. Soon after he'd discovered he was in M--

No...

Soon after he'd discovered he was a Mew.

It had been a much less lighthearted visit. He'd had to break it to her that... Well...

That her son had died...

He hadn't expected her to accept him as... as a continuation of Randy... Arceus knew he had a heck of time accepting it. And there was no way he would've been able to if she hadn't.

He didn't dare think about what he would've done if she hadn't accepted him.

He smiled, as Lav's words came back to him.

"I'm proud of you, Dad. I know that time is hard for you, but... You've come a long way since it all."

...He had, hadn't he?

You alright, Love?

He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the beautiful blue Mew. Yeah, I am. Just reminiscing.

She nuzzled his cheek, purring. For once, he believed he would be to, if in Mew form.

Are you packed yet?

Yeah, I think so. I don't know how much of it I'll need.

That's always the case for travel. Better to have more than you need than less. I wonder how Lav's doing. And Perzi. Have you asked Perzi if he wants anything packed?

Yeah. He's fine. He's the most ready of any of us.

Randy sighed. I have to admit I'm jealous of how easily he adapted to having Rosemary. How easily he adapts to anything, really. I feel like a mess compared to him.

Akoya gave him a peck on the cheek and snuggled up to his neck. You're a recovering mess, Love. It's not easy, but you're doing great.

He felt his eyes grow hot with tears, and he smiled. Lav said something similar a bit ago. He paused, recomposing himself. I'm proud of you, too. You've been an amazing mother.

He felt her tense against his skin for only a brief moment. Her response was quiet and full of emotion. Thank you.

yyyeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!

Randy turned to the doorway just in time for the pale Mewtwo to barrel into him, knocking all three flat onto the bed. Thankfully they missed the suitcase.

Lavender quickly hopped up and hovered speedily around the room. YEEEEEEEEEEEAAAASS IT'S ALMOST TIMMME! WE'RE GONNA SEE GRAMMA VIVI!!!

Randy clenched his teeth against the peal of her voice. Lav, please, I know you're excited. But my ears are ringing.

Sorry Daddy! Her voice was at a reasonable level now, but she still floated and kicked her legs as she fought against her overwhelming joy.

Are you all packed, Lav?

She nodded vigorously. So much so her body rocked in the air as she bobbed her head. She finished with an accidental summersault and a giggle. Her parents couldn't help letting their own chuckles out as well.

Well...

Randy stood up, keeping a sense on his legs to see if they would decide to ache or not. Once up, he gripped the suit case handle and telekinetically pulled his cane to his hand. Mentally noting that he had everything, he turned into his Mew form. The items in his hands vanished with his human body.

Shall we speak to Perzi and the team?

You're all clear on how to run the place?

The three shiny Pokemon nodded in unison, grunting in affirmation.

Randy smiled at them, then turned to his wife, who was saying her good-byes to Jerry the Pichu. Lavender and Perzi were with the three kits, who were playing around in a nice padded tote bag they'd gotten for this trip, as a means to gather them together if need be.

Good. They seem to like it. Hopefully we won't need to force them in there.

The Mews eventually gathered together, waved good-bye to the remaining Pokemon...

And took off...

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START

I hope you all don't mind the influx of written parts for this arc. And potentially future arcs as well. It's just a lot quicker to get done, and helps offer looks at emotions and thoughts comics can't achieve on their own.

Anyway...

The trip has begun. :)

#Pokemon #Linden Roots #babbies #mite #trip #writing #full

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thedensworld · 1 year

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Lover | Kim Mingyu

How You Two Met

Lover Series🖤🌼

Pairing: Mingyu x Reader (ft. Joshua as a brother)

Genre: Fluff, angst, series

_________________________________________

"I introduce you, my lover."

Kim Mingyu was finally free from the relentless whirlwind of comeback schedules, grueling practice sessions, and the constant rush of variety show appearances that had dominated half of his life. A sense of liberation washed over him as he realized he had wrapped up all his commitments. His last engagement awaited him in the City of Lights—Paris, a prestigious fashion show before a well-deserved two-week hiatus. Months ago, he had offered this respite to his dedicated team, who had poured their effort into the company's projects and desperately needed a break.

Amusement danced in his manager's eyes as he watched Mingyu pack. He marveled at the enthusiasm Mingyu exhibited; he had never seen someone pack so excitedly. "You'll only be there for a week," his manager chuckled, observing Mingyu attempting to fit five different coats and an assortment of shoes into his luggage. Mingyu rolled his eyes playfully, retorting, "Hyung, a week means seven days," before detailing his planned Outfit of The Day agenda for his European vacation. "Carats will love my posts, won't they? Sharing my vacation fun." Mingyu's manager rolled his eyes in response. "They won't if they see how many bags you're bringing," he quipped, eyeing the three different suitcases. He left after getting Mingyu's coffee order, mentioning their departure in 20 minutes.

Europe had always held an allure for Mingyu, captivating him with its beauty and charm. His excitement surged when he realized his final professional engagement would be in Paris, the capital of France. He eagerly anticipated spending a few days there before venturing to Alsace, his dream destination, where he planned to embark on a solitary journey along the Alsace wine route. The prospect of traveling alone and checking off a wishlist item brought a broad smile to his face.

"What about me?" his manager asked when Mingyu shared his idea of traveling alone. Mingyu innocently responded, "Oh, I forgot." He helped his manager find the earliest flight from Paris to Seoul, advising him to go home and not be of any help, all while making a mental note to bring a tripod.

After his last schedule, Mingyu bid his manager farewell, knowing they might not meet again until he returned to Seoul. He planned to sleep until noon and enjoy his first meal on a rooftop with the Eiffel Tower in view. He intended to share it with Seungcheol, who had declined the invitation in favor of staying home for two weeks. When he woke up, it was already 1 pm. His manager had texted before his flight, and Mingyu replied with a simple "Text me when you land" before getting ready for his adventure.

"It's really beautiful," Mingyu remarked as he pointed his camera phone at the view. A sound of agreement from Joshua could be heard during their video call. Joshua had visited Paris for Chuseok Holiday the previous year. His envy had been stoked by the beautiful pictures Joshua had posted on Instagram. "Have you visited the café I recommended?" Joshua asked. Mingyu shook his head, excitement evident in his voice as he replied, "I'll visit cafes and bakeries tomorrow. For today, I plan to have wine and a night walk," a smile creeping across his face as he spoke.

"Romanticizing life, Kim Mingyu?" Joshua teased, to which Mingyu nodded.

"It's good. Stay safe, though. Paris nights can be chaotic and wild," Joshua cautioned, piquing Mingyu's curiosity.

"But you partied until 3 am last year, and you were alone too," Mingyu pouted, referring to Joshua's advice. Joshua chuckled, revealing that he had been with his sister.

Mingyu was taken aback. "Wait, hyung, you don't have a sister," he interjected, only to be met with laughter from Joshua.

"Did I forget to mention? My mom treats her like a daughter, so she's like a sister to me," Joshua clarified. Mingyu nodded in understanding, appreciating the connection. Joshua offered her contact information for emergencies before they bid each other farewell.

Mingyu smiled, excited for his upcoming vacation.

"Excuse me," you were pulled from your laptop as a voice came from beside you. You turned to find a handsome Asian man asking about the availability of the chair across from you. You scanned the area and noticed all other tables were full. You offered a polite smile and nodded, granting him the seat.

Determined to focus on your work, you struggled to ignore the distraction before you. He was attractive, and his stylish outfit was a rare sight. You shook your head, determined to complete the article about a dress that had caught your eye during last night's fashion show. Your boss awaited its submission, but a hangover from Joelle's birthday celebration had left you struggling.

His order arrived—the man's almond croissant and hot chocolate. His satisfied smile as he admired his meal prompted you to glance his way. His phone emerged, and he embarked on a mini-photoshoot. His vibrant energy captivated you, and you found yourself staring.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you?" he asked, his English carrying a slight accent. Though your instinct was to deny any disturbance, you realized you had indeed been distracted by him.

An awkward laugh escaped you, and you offered, "Would you like me to take your picture?" He was momentarily surprised before agreeing, thanking you. After taking a few photos with your basic photography skills, you returned his phone. "Thank you," he said, prompting you to return to your work.

"Woah, it looks delicious," his mumbled comment in Korean reached your ears. Even in his native language, he was distracting.

"Are you Korean?" you asked, prompting an excited nod from him.

"Nice to meet you," he said, shaking your hand. He was glad to meet another Korean in the city. You explained that you used to live in Korea but weren't Korean.

You learned he was on vacation and traveling alone for the first time. He asked for recommendations for his last day in Paris, and you happily shared your hidden gem findings. You both chatted before he had to leave, your work complete.

After bidding goodbye, you parted ways, chuckling at the fact that you hadn't even exchanged names.

#kim mingyu #mingyu fluff #mingyu au #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu imagine #mingyu recs #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #mingyu #seventeen series #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfiction

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i4bellingham · 1 year

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LOVE MADE OF GLASS: jude bellingham x reader (angst)

CONTENT: cheating, jude is a dickhead on this one, explicit language (mostly coming from the reader), you deserve better here tbh :’( mentions of grinding and kissing, no jude redemption era on this one !

NOTES: i’ve had a handful of people sending me requests while i explicitly stated in my description and nav that requests are still closed prior to this :(( please make reading a habit, that's it. i hope you still have a good day/night tho! stay hydrated and safe as always everyone <33

You knew of the baggage that came with dating an athleteㅡ a famous and loved one at that.

You were aware of the heavy media presence in the relationship; thousands of eyes following your every move, every post and every word that comes out of your mouth. You were aware of the criticism and harsh remarks you received along the way because out of everyone else, Jude decided to settle down with a normal, commoner girl like you.

You used to be bothered by it, always ending your days with tears overflowing from your eyes as you try your hardest to ignore the comments and not let it get to you. And for a while, you just learned to cope up with it. Until their words that was typed and uttered with venom no longer pierced through your self-esteem and consciousness as you grow mentally numb to their critiques.

It was a difficult situation to be in, but you never once let it be the reason to end the relationship you had with Jude. You loved him, and for you that was enough of a reason to hold on despite the mentally-draining position you have as a constant presence in your boyfriend's life.

But that tight grip you have in the relationship was snapped easily by a simple, gracious mistake Jude made.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

You scoff. “Is that not a bit overused for situations like this-?”

“Love just listen to me please, it wasn't like tha-”

You turn around, pausing from shoving your clothes inside your luggage as you point a finger at his chest, voice entailed with anger, exhaustion and sadness as you spoke. “That what? That it didn't look like you let some random girl in the club grind on you? Is that it? Or was it that it didn't look like you had a different whore on your lap on the booth who you let kiss you? Take your pick because there's a fucking plenty of videos circulating the internet to prove that it wasn't what it looks like.”

Jude grows silent, solemnly casting his eyes anywhere but you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry for my fucking self too.” You reply before hastily packing your remaining items, speed walking around the room to take your stuff and shoving them haphazardly inside the luggage.

Jude simply stood beside the door, hopelessly watching silently as you packed away, knowing all too well that he can't do anything to keep you from leaving.

He finds his voice when you're rushing to get out of the door, two luggages on tow.

“I really am sorry...”

His apologies will never be enough, you both know that, and you remind him of how this downfall in your relationship weigh on you more than it ever will to him.

Just as before you reach the door, you turn around, grip on your suitcase tight as you try to keep your voice from quivering.

“I gave up a lot for you... I tolerated so many fucking things just to be with you, and I fucking regret that now.” You tell him, watching as his face fell and you continue to jab him with your words deep. “I fucking love you, and I really, really feel so sorry for myself for thinking that I was gonna be enough for you because obviously that's not the case here. Let’s hope we never cross paths again. Good bye Jude.”

His eyes never left your figure as you slam the front door shut, eyes fixated on the spot where his eyes saw you last. And Jude only grasps the situation he placed himself in as the silence of the house prevailed even after an hour you left, slowly drowning in the realization that he's wasted four years with you in a single mistake he shouldn't have done in a single night.

#☆ i4bellingham writes.#☆ jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham one shots #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham imagines #jude bellingham

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neuroticbookworm · 1 year

Text

I was not planning on writing a Step by Step analysis this week, because my mind was too frayed from all the anticipation for the next episode. But then @lurkingshan posted this, and it knocked something loose in my brain, and now here I am.

Shan talks about how even though Jeng and Pat felt the spark of desire when they met a couple of times before they became boss and subordinate, once they knew they had to be professional, they dialed it back using very different mechanisms.

Jeng chose to keep his emotions under control in the workplace, and he harbored and nurtured those feelings in private. Pat, on the other hand, was already under stress in the workplace, and as @ginnymoonbeam and @bengiyo discuss here, he also misinterprets the initial strict mentoring from Jeng as proof that the spark he felt must've been all in his head. That his gaydar made an error, and therefore Jeng must be straight.

So when episode 8 begins, the mutual interest from their initial interactions is the only thing Jeng knows for certain, to assume that Pat might want a relationship with him. He also tells Tae that Pat never looks at him the way he looks at Pat, which makes the confession a pretty huge leap of faith from Jeng.

In the dance floor confession, Jeng observes that Pat is not ready for another relationship yet. He still confesses his feelings, but adds that he can be the safe space for Pat if that is all he wants from him. And that he will never want for anything more. He has already resigned himself here to the fate that he might never get to be Pat's boyfriend.

@respectthepetty explains here that Jeng would've fully gone along with Pat's understanding that Jeng is straight. He was forced to show his hand and come out when Pat referred to himself as Jeng's friend. Here, Jeng was no longer planning on making his feelings clear to Pat. He had no choice but to do it.

In the aftermath, Pat reacts with confusion, dawning realization and horror, and we know that Pat is reeling from this information because his mind is now doing a speedrun of all of their interactions and reevaluating them with the fact that Jeng is gay. But Jeng, oh my poor Jeng, thinks Pat is horrified for two reasons: the previously stated reason offered by his rational and logical brain, and the reason offered by his panicked and frantic brain that Pat is horrified by his advances, and that Pat never liked him in the first place. That he was utterly and completely wrong, right from the glass jelly incident. This thought may not have found deep roots in his mind yet, but it is there, floating and waiting for confirmation.

Now, some speculation for episode 9 (aka clowning). We see Pat has taken the day off, which further fuels Jeng's fears. And later Pat looks visibly unmoored and exhausted, like he hasn't slept for a few nights in a row. I was talking to @chicademartinica and she mentioned how Pat looks like he is disassociating in this episode. And I agree, he looks fully out of it.

Whatever happens that forces Jeng to confess AGAIN, I don't know yet. But what I do know is that there is a high possibility that Pat might say no after this confession, because he needs more time to process things. But, in Jeng's mind, that floating thought will finally get its confirmation and take root, and it will go, AHA I KNEW IT, HE HAS NEVER LIKED YOU, EVER.

I know we are all anxiously waiting for the slowburn to end (hopefully it'll happen before the sun swallows us whole), but we may need to hold our horses. Because the possible roadmap I see right now is: Jeng confesses -> Pat says no -> Jeng thinks Pat has never liked him and drowns himself (and us) in angst -> Pat finally finishes thinking and realizes that he does like Jeng -> Pat tries to tell Jeng -> Jeng is already packing his suitcases to flee the country OR Jeng has built his mental walls so high that Put can't get through to him without a massive effort -> Pat convinces Jeng to hear him out -> They finally sit down and talk to each other -> JengPat FINALLY BURNS

My fellow sufferers of this cursed show, I will be the happiest clown if I get proven wrong, but I think it will take a while for these two to work this mess out, and I think it might take more than one episode *runs*

#step by step #step by step the series #step by step meta

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bluejaysandblackbats · 2 months

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Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn’t die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 17/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, Donna Troy

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Seventeen: The Campaign: Malatra Pt. 1

Tim slept in his bed one last time while I packed our things. My phone rang, and I answered to keep from waking Tim up. “Hello?” I whispered.

“Jason, I heard about your friend’s mother—.”

“You don’t have to say anything… Um, Barbara, can I ask you for a favor?” I interrupted.

“I don’t know. It depends… Is it illegal?” Barbara asked.

“No. It’s—. I need you to help me get back in fighting shape. I know Bruce won’t change his mind because I can throw a couple of solid punches, but I’ve gotta do this for myself. I need to know I didn’t let the accident beat me,” I explained. I told her as much of the truth as I could.

“Jason… Wednesday through Friday after school. No excuses,” Barbara replied. I grinned.

“I’ll be there. I promise,” I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Barbara. You’re the best.” Barbara was a tough person to move. She wasn’t emotionally driven or faint of heart. Barbara was sharp and efficient. Practical and poised. She was everything I needed in a teacher.

“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. See how you feel about me after our first training session. Bye, Jason… And good on you for getting back up. I thought about what I said to you the last time we talked. I was wrong to tell you that you were being childish. If taking this time away from home was good for your mental health, who am I to tell you—?”

“Barbara, I am a kid. I never said I wasn’t. I was pissed off and closed in, and I reacted. I was in a dark place, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to go home now… I know it’s what I have to do. I’m gonna be mature about it, for Tim’s sake,” I replied, “I’ve gotta finish packing… But, um—. Thank you, Barbara.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Boy Wonder. See you Wednesday,” Barbara teased. She hung up, and I shook Tim awake.

He pushed my face away and laughed. “ Uggghhh. Jason, what are you doing?” Tim asked.

“She’s gonna train me. Wednesday through Friday, so we’ll condition Saturday through Monday,” I replied. Tim grinned.

“And on Tuesday ?” Tim half-joked.

“Warlocks and Warriors,” I replied, “And—. Oh, Ives wants to come over tonight. I gave him Bruce’s address and said he could stay the night.”

“Ives wanted to hang out? Does he—?”

I nodded. “Ives knows, but I asked him not to mention it… Unless…” I trailed off. Tim shook his head. “Then, he won’t…” I tied labels to Tim’s chargers and tucked them into his suitcase.

We went to the manor at sunset because I knew Bruce wouldn’t be there. Alfred seemed happy to see us again. Ives showed up an hour after we got there, and Alfred served dinner. “Hey, guys… Do you wanna do another campaign here this weekend?” I asked.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You want to?” Tim questioned. I nodded.

“That’d be sick,” Ives replied.

“Cool. Tell the guys Tuesday we’ll hang out here,” I replied. Ives glanced at Tim and looked at his plate when he saw me looking. Tim was oblivious to everything going on in his life because of everything.

“Jason should DM this one,” Tim suggested. I choked. “Come on. You can do it. I see how deep you get into character. And you’re the only person willing to indulge Hudson. Besides, I think the guys are still mad at me for what happened in Ravenloft.”

“That was messed up. I can’t believe you killed Ives first and swapped him out with a Doppelganger. That was sick. And Ives… I’m shocked you let him go through with that,” I replied.

Tim smiled. I reached for my bed to pull myself up, but I felt a shockwave shoot down my back into my legs, and I let go of the mattress. “Jason?” Tim asked.

“I’m okay… But like—. Are you guys sure you want me to DM?” I questioned.

“Yeah, definitely,” Ives replied, “You’ve gotta try it at least once. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again, but you should give it a chance. You might be good.”

"In the living forest lands of Malatra, all seems quiet. Suspiciously so. A warm breeze blows, rustling through the canopies overhead. Topiaries of smiling children surround a small fire. It is the only possible sign of life for several miles. A song breaks through the near-silent forest. It starts low and guttural, like a collective groan, and then the ethereal choral collections of synchronized sobs. It is a song of mourning. A once-distant sound, now building as if it is approaching. The forest's dirt walkways slowly disappear under shrubs and bushes, and it seems like a trick to the eye at first, but no. You see it now. The bushes have feet where roots should be, and finally, a male voice breaks through the grieving chorus," I cleared my throat. "State your business," I bellowed. "He steps forward. A bamboo elf. His hair is a warm brown with the same red undertones of autumn leaves. He keeps his hair in wide and intricate waves and curls. His skin is an olivine green, and his eyes dark brown and ancient, study you. You all recognize this bamboo elf immediately, but before we get into that… you should introduce yourselves." A big, goofy grin spread across Tim's face. Silence fell over my room as I waited for someone to speak.

"You fucking killed it," Hudson mumbled in shock. I covered my smile. "Clay Everlake, earth genasi monk here. I'm stone grey, with bright green hair made of leaves, with the front pulled into a warrior's bun—."

"Man bun penalty!" everyone shouted.

"Is not! Anyway ... It's a warrior's bun, and the rest of my hair hangs leafy down my shoulders. I'm fairly young, rough and tumble, and trouble seems to follow me wherever I go," Hudson answered.

I gestured to Ives. "Eldrid Deepwood, here. I'm a firbolg druid... I uh—. I have bluish-green skin and dark eyes. My hair is whiteish-grey, luscious, and thick, almost mane-like. My ears are floppy... And uh—. And despite my advanced age, I'm a timid sort of fella," Ives stammered in an Irish accent.

I nodded and pointed to Hudman. "Fettar Keephorn. Dwarven rogue, dark beard, dark brown eyes. My loyalties lie with Clay Everlake... Unfortunately," Hudman muttered in a dry voice. We all laughed. "I'm not much for words."

And Tim. I looked forward to Tim's character because we'd been pretty hush-hush about our plans all week, which meant we had nothing to discuss outside of training. "Posy Moonfall, gnome cleric here. I've got blond shoulder-length hair and grey eyes hidden behind foggy glasses. Well, they're usually quite—. I'm not used to being in the presence of a man of Mr. Deepwood's stature. I'm clumsy, but my intuitive nature makes up for my shortcomings... At least, I think—. Oh gosh. Am I rambling?" Tim replied in a woman's voice. He was surprisingly good at it. I almost forgot my place.

I cleared my throat before continuing. "Clay Everlake, your connection to this bamboo elf is deeply personal. Isn't it?" I asked, nodding at him. I liked Hudson. He always made me laugh and was my favorite of Tim's friends. He also tried to make me feel better about my scars by showing me the dent in his forehead. It wasn't the same, but he genuinely thought it was.

"He raised me. When my family was slaughtered on the outskirts of Malatra, he took me in and raised me. He's a father to me," Hudson answered. Hudson and I locked eyes, and I smiled down at my notes. "I didn't expect to see him under such grim circumstances."

"And Fettar?" I questioned.

"The elf and I… used to date,” Hudman replied. We all laughed.

“Fettar and Theren Everlake dated? You guys were—.”

“A couple. Yep,” Hudman doubled down.

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crow-in-a-teapot · 10 months

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unreal unearth first impressions

OKAY REALISING I AM RELISTENING TO THIS ALBUM FOR THE HUNDREDTH TIME JUST TODAY ACCIDENTALLY SO IIM GONNA QUICKLY WRITE DOWN MY FIRST IMPRESSIONS BC IM ALREADY BEGINNING TO ACTUALY THINK ABOUT THINGS AND LOOK AT LYRICS AND READ OTHER PEOPLE'S OPINIONS, so here is an only slightly tainted not quite first impression of unreal unearth from me (obviously the singls ive heard before but)

de selby (part 1) i turned on the album sitting in the absolute dark, ten minutes past twelve at night, this started playing, cue instant tears. i think i was just hit with 'this is the most beautiful thing ive ever heard' and i wasn't expecting that from de selby 1 for some reason. and when the irish kicked in that just. no words, just crying and im what two minutes in. i wasn't even thinking about what he'd been saying about connemara in the dark and mirrors of people you used to know (i'd seen him talk about it, but purposefully skipped the actual song when it came up online) it was just. de selby 1. and the part as gaeilge

de selby (part 2) sexy groovy silly fun, it's really growing on me, thinking about 'i'd still know you, not being shown you

i only need the workin' of my hands' also i cant wait to read third policeman and look at this completely differently

first time the beginning was jarring, and then at the lyric about his name i kind of :( i also liked the lethe/liffey parallel, it's so very hozier of him to do that. god the push and pull of there must have been something off from the beginning? if every time they called him baby he died? something like that was my first interpretation, now im wondering if it's because it's not his name and they're the one that made his name sound wonderful for once. intellectualising that part of the lyrics kind of ruins it for me ngl, i think it's more about how it feels, i think it feels like contrast like not knowing if it hurts or is wonderful. little detail of when he says come here to me and it sounds so casual and irish like come here to me tell me, i really love it. and the final lyric hurt. really impeccable timing for a breakup album like

francesca why can't i listen to i'd tell them put me back in it for the first time again WHY CAN'T I LISTEN TO I'D TELL THEM PUT ME BACK IN IT FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN AND REEXPERIENCE THAT. my favourite thing from this hozier era might just be that music video (over all the other ones help)

i, carrion (icarian) is just really devastating. sunlight but what if you wanted your heart to be torn to shreds. the imagery is so vivid

eat your young is growing on me too, the lyrics are just so good. they're just SO GOOD, their rhythm is so satisfying they fit together so smoothly, and at this point it's just as fun and danceable as something like de selby 2

damage gets done is kind of pop? it made me think of the bones ft marren morris

who we are [had to remove a section here] the vocals are otherwordly. the drums are gorgeously frantic. quietly it slips through your fingers love??? falling from you drop by drop??? HOLD ME LIKE A KNIFE???makes me physically ache

son of nyx i'm so glad this is here, an instrumental was something that really could put me back to where i was mentally with de selby (part 1). first thing i thought was i can't wait to learn the piano part. i've seen people say this, but it does seem like the obvious, it's an instrumental that just belongs in a movie

all things end all things do end so real. very cool how much of a direct inflence gospel music is

to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuarithe) i can't wait to relisten to this one again and again, the parallels between being a child warming up a bed and jumping to later in time with a lover aaaa so tender NATURAL AS ANOTHER LEG AROUND YOU IN THE BEDFRAME AAAA

butchered tongue A FAVOURITE A FAVOURITE foreigner's god but softer, how can i listen to this and ever leave ireland how can i listen to this and feel like this and be packing suitcases what is wrong with meeeeee. the violin and the instrumence. jesus christ. instantly picturing my road signs when he started singing about the native ones

anything but THIS SONG STARTED AND I INSTANTLY STARTED SMILING COMPLETELY INVOLUNTARILY, THOUGHT OF ALMOST (SWEET MUSIC) i started thinking of bright lion king imagery before he even started talking about stampedes and hoofbeats. and the vocals here too, so overwhelmed by how cheerful and joyous it sounded that i really didnt pay attention to lyrics, so it'll be cool to look deeper later

abstract (psychopomp) the production here i was very unsure about, because there was something that made me think if it were more rustic/intrumental and less modern, it might have hit me even harder, like there might have been a way to elevate it further. it made me think of colours and purples and reds and oranges, another really visual song, like i, carrion. it's really gorgeous. SEE HOW IT SHINES will be in my head for a long long time... ugh it's all so bittersweet and sad and beautiful. all my love and terror there balanced between those eyes what a line

unknown / nth if you've scrolled through my accunt for longer than a second you know how i feel about unknown / nth

first light i was hit with such intense terror that this was the last song of the album. what am i supposed to do for the next decade without music to look forward to while andrew goes back into hibernation under bray train station jean jacket lost and found or whatever. so i didnt play and instead did this musing on how beautiful the vocals throughout the album are and how funny it was in the zach sang interview when he talked about singing instead of playing instruments when recording songs because he's 'better at singing than most intruments' and his producer just wouldnt replace those voice recordings and that's why there are so many choirs and zach is basically like 'you absolute weirdo no one else has the talent to do that but ok' (affectionate) (paraphrasing). i love the drums so much. i love the strings so much too. A VOICE YOUR BODY JUMPS TO CALLING OUT YOUR NAME :(((((((((((( imagining hearing this in the 3arena and having colours break out across the whole ceiling ill remember those lights during no plan in 2019 forever im an indoor concert girlie forever what they can do visually is so magical.. i saw a good omens edit of this today already i love you good omens fans

not to sound like a broken record i wish swan upon leda and through me the flood and love of were on this and maybe even but the wages and

#hozier #unreal unearth #crow #de selby (part 1)#de selby (part 2)#first time hozier #francesca #i #eat your young #damage gets done #what we are hozier #son of nyx #all things end #to someone from a warm climate (uiscefhuairithe)#butchered tongue #anything but hozier #abstract (psychopomp)#unknown / nth #first light hozier

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periprose · 1 year

Text

Florence - Chapter Two

Despite your attempts to keep a healthy amount of distance between you and Peter, you end up growing closer together (a bit fast for your own tastes) as you experience the joys of air travel. MJ seems to be having wedding troubles when you get there, so it's up to you and Peter to cheer her up.

Becoming friends again, mild flirting, banter, mutual pining, Peter not understanding his own feelings, air travel stuff, lots of going on about how beautiful Italy is

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

You’re surprised how fast the month goes after that. It’s July 15th, and tomorrow, you’ll be on the flight to Italy.

You pack every Sunday- just putting away all your cute, summery clothes, your swimsuits, and other nice dresses that might be needed for special events. MJ is supposedly bringing a whole bunch of extra outfits for everyone, which was notably given to her from Dior’s fashion house.

The mental bill you’re calculating for the whole thing is getting really high.

Ever since Peter moved back into his house, you’ve been catching him doing silly things through his room window- brushing his teeth while dancing, waking up shirtless (you averted your eyes so quickly), and today playing with a tennis ball, accidentally throwing it through his open window and hitting your window with it, looking sheepish about it- but it started a conversation between the two of you.

Hey. Peter mouths, and then he waves at you.

You blink, and then wave back.

What’s up? He mouths, and you shrug.

You lift up a pile of clothing. Just packing.

Same. Peter holds up a ratty sweater- and your eyes widen with recognition.

You open up your room window, and Peter finally smiles, because he’s gotten you to talk to him.

“Is that-?” You point to it, and then start laughing. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you still have the Mathematics Club sweater!”

“I can’t believe you’re admitting you got rid of such a cherished memory. So casually, too, Howlett.” Peter sighs, as if he’s actually defeated by such an idea.

“Wait.” You hold up your finger, and Peter does wait as you rummage around in your room, until finally, you pick up a raggedy old cloth. You hold it up to him.

It is your ninth grade sweater- at least, it’s a piece of fabric with the same emblem- and it’s just clearly being used as a rag to clean things up.

Peter scoffs. “Jesus, Howlett. That thing looks rancid.”

“It’s for cleaning!” You’re indignant, but Peter is laughing at you, and you jokingly huff. “Okay, whatever. Pack a sweater that won’t fit you, I don’t care. I’m not wearing it.”

“Okay, mom.” Peter tosses it on his bed, and you feel such familiarity towards him suddenly. It’s hard not to smile- but you remind yourself that Peter just wants friendship, and he’s just trying to be on good terms with you.

You shake your head, letting your smile falter a little, and continue packing in mutual silence with Peter.

You wake up really late by accident. Like, 4 AM, and the red-eye flight (it’s a fast one that will get you there in 4 hours, courtesy of Harry) is at 5:30 AM, and you need at least two hours to go through all the bullshit at the airport before you can get to your gate.

Logan is snoring downstairs- he’s fallen asleep on the couch by accident. If your dad didn’t weigh like 300 pounds of pure muscle (you don’t know how a teacher could be so buff) you’d lift him up out of the living room.

But you decide to just get ready for the airport. You shower really fast- brush your teeth- and throw all the extra stuff like makeup, skincare, and perfume into your mini backpack, where your phone, passport, and wallet are already in. Airport clothes are a comfy pair of green Adidas running shorts, a loose gray muscle tee, sneakers, and your hair pulled back in a claw clip.

Logan is very slow as you try to push him out the door.

“Dad- C’mon- We’re gonna be late-!” You’re shoving against him, with your suitcase and bag and all of your might, and Logan is just so. Damn. Slow.

He grumbles, scratches his face, and then makes his way out the door, with one shitty duffel bag and a pair of sandals that you don’t think will last the walk to the car. Logan is never prepared for shit.

As you’re walking out, in the very dark early morning, Peter, May and Ben are all inside their car, and Logan suddenly groans.

“I forgot to fill up the tank yesterday.” He yawns, and you look at him with the most irritated, pissed off look you can muster.

Years of doing that still have no effect on Logan. He just rolls his eyes.

“Fuck off, Lettie. We’ll call a cab.” He says, but Ben, who’s at the wheel of the Parker car, immediately waves at you two.

“We’ve got room- if you don’t mind stuffing your bag in the back seat.” Ben points to Logan’s duffle bag, and he sighs and tells you that he’s still sitting in the front.

Leaving you to put your own suitcase into the trunk, and then awkwardly clamber into the back seat, where you’re wedged in between Peter and May.

May touches your arm with a fond warmth- and it immediately makes you feel guilty that you’ve pushed away this family. They never did anything to you, you were just being extraordinarily selfish.

Peter’s bare leg is touching yours, and you snicker at how prickly it is.

“What?”

“Your leg is so… hairy.” You joke, and Peter’s eyes narrow.

“It’s called being a man.” He leans back in his seat, and you try not to laugh at just how lanky and tall Peter looks sometimes. He’s wearing a t-shirt and gym shorts combo, which looks like his pajamas- it would not surprise you if it was.

“It’s 2023, Pete. Doesn’t hurt to be gender non-conforming now and then.” You retort.

“Let’s not pretend you care about woke-isms now, Howlett. You just want to be comfortable.” He responds without missing a beat. And if anything, he pushes his leg against yours a little harder.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

“What the hell are you guys going on about?” Logan mumbles in confusion, and you and Peter giggle. Logan rubs his eyes- and then decides to disguise his tired expression with sunglasses.

“Beats me.” Ben pulls out of the driveway, and begins the short drive to JFK International Airport. “You two better not bicker like children the whole time.”

Logan laughs at that, and you look down at your feet, thinking that you missed bickering with Peter.

Peter pulls out a phone- evidently his work phone- and May immediately tuts.

“It’s supposed to be a vacation, Peter. You deserve that, at least.” She reprimands him, and crosses her arms. Making you lean even closer to Peter. “No work. Lettie, tell him.”

You meet Peter’s glance- and he has an interesting look on his face. Like he’s daring you to talk to him for real, in a serious way where you care about what he’s doing.

“It’s not really my business, but…” You start, and you can see Peter’s eyes shift ever so slightly- he’s disappointed, you think. “I think you should let yourself have fun.”

“Okay, that’s fair. I’m putting it on silent.” He makes a big motion of pressing the do not disturb button, and then stuffs it into his backpack. “Hey, want a gummy bear?”

You’re taken aback. “Uh, no. It’s probably too early in the morning for that- plus I don’t want to think how long gummy bears have been in your bag for.”

“Your loss.” Peter tosses a handful in his mouth as you gag. “What, c’mon, Howlett. We all need a hearty breakfast to start the day-”

“I’m buying real breakfast at the airport.” You cross your arms, and Peter nods, chowing down on more gummy bears.

“I’m hungry.” He smiles at you, and his teeth are covered in gummy bits, congealed in a disgusting rainbow of colours that has you instantly cackling with laughter.

“Oh my god, dude. You’re gonna get so many cavities.” You’re literally trying not to laugh but Peter is really, really good at stupid faces, and he keeps sneering at you like a little pig, and you shake with laughter as he keeps nudging you.

You’re doing your best to be his buddy, and you feel like it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. If anything, you actually… you like being his friend, even if you can’t have it all.

You have a small, sheepish smile on your face that you’re desperately trying to get rid of now. Peter side eyes you- and he’s content to see that he’s still got the ability to make you laugh uncontrollably.

The airport is incredibly busy for 4:20 AM.

Families are running- literally jogging with all their bags and new paraphernalia bought from the airport shops- towards their gates, TSA agents are being really touchy about everything today, and the line ups for everything are really, really long.

You don’t need to check in any suitcases, so you skip that. Your passports and tickets are checked by multiple different authoritative people.

It seems to happen in a bit of a rush. You’re pushed through security, and you grimace as they look through your suitcase- for some reason the TSA agent opens the zipper of the clear mesh bag holding all your underwear and lingerie- and he leers at you.

“Going on a special trip? Maybe some yachting?” He asks, grinning, and you know he’s insinuating that you’re one of those girls who “yacht”, as in, providing sexual favours to guests there as a hired hooker.

Your dad’s fist tightens, but you push him forward. “It’s fine, dad. We don’t really have time for this.”

“No, it’s not fine.” Peter speaks up, and he’s scratching the back of his hair, but you can tell Peter has that look on his face- he’s not gonna let this go. He’s a protective, justice-oriented guy, you know that.

“Peter, please… it’s the TSA. You don’t want to get in trouble with them.” You shake your head and peer up at him, and Peter can’t really say no when you’re pleading at him with those big, sad eyes.

The TSA agent doesn’t like that Peter said anything at all. “Sir, I’m gonna need to do a pat-down procedure on you.”

You turn, a level of shock and just awe at the audacity of this guy working it’s way onto your face. “Are you serious? Is it because he said something?”

The agent is silent for a moment. “...Not related.”

You don’t buy it, and you’re about to say something, but Peter squeezes your shoulder.

“Howlett, it’ll just take a second. Otherwise we’re going to hold up the line, and then we’ll be late for our flight. Right?” He whispers, and it’s very Peter to comfort you like this- but you can see in his eyes that by defending him, you did do the right thing, the very thing that he wanted you to from the beginning- that you care.

You do care, even if you tried to act like you didn’t.

“Okay. Just… stay safe.” You say, and you look back at Peter being ushered into the pat-down booth as you, Logan, Ben and May are allowed to pass through security.

You’re waiting in the check in line when Peter finally returns, grinning widely. He’s holding his cheek in a weird way- and you look up at him, looking inquisitive, but Peter sidesteps your almost-question instantly.

“I bought breakfast?” He holds up a bag, and reaches in to hand you a breakfast burrito. You’re too hungry to ask your question and eat at the same time, and Peter beams at you, May, Logan and Ben as you guys eat. Quickly, too, because you’ve only got ten more minutes to check in.

Checking into the flight goes a lot smoother. The check-in lady recognizes that you have first class seats, which are very coveted and basically label you as VIP members of the flight.

You cringe at the level of opulence that Harry seems to be paying for- Peter, too, gives you a look that just reads “yikes.”

It’s not very growing-up-in-the-poor-suburbs-of-Queens of you, but you’re not gonna say no now.

The airplane seats are large and spacious. You struggle to reach the luggage hold, and Peter wordlessly lifts up your suitcase, puts it in, and then his own, and shuts the hold with a clink. He gives you a funny look- like he’s about to raise his arms and say “no, really, it was my pleasure.”

And he does just that, to your mild surprise. He used to do that all the time when you were kids- if you got too cushy about Peter being your little servant, he would go overboard to make you give him some gratitude.

“Sorry. Thank you, Peter.” You say with as much sincerity as you can muster, because you’re just exhausted at this moment.

“No worries. I’m tired too.” Peter leans back in his seat, which has a metre gap of distance from you. There’s a large flat screen in front of his seat, which is really like a lounge chaise sofa, and a table that is ergonomically designed to also rest his arms on. Everything looks like a futuristic piece of art.

Peter suddenly scowls, and holds his cheek again.

“Hey… you never told me what happened to your face.” You lean forward on the arm rest of Peter’s chair, and gently pull his hand back.

Peter’s face is sheepish as you do. He refuses to meet your glance, even when you gasp.

“Peter! That’s a-” You touch the newly red, freshly bruised skin on his cheek, and he flinches. “A bruise-!”

He clamps his hand over your mouth. “Shut it, I don’t need Aunt May on my case about that.”

You gently pry his hand off of you. “But what happened?”

Peter’s eyes fall to the floor of the cabin.

“Don’t lie to me.” You immediately start, and he sighs with a well known just-my-Parker-luck air.

“Okay, listen. I wasn’t trying to be a hero, or anything like that…” He plays around with his knuckles. “The TSA dude didn’t exactly shut up when he got me into the booth.”

You’re silent, but you’re listening really, really hard, and Peter looks up just to make sure that you are listening. God, he missed the times when you looked at him so intently.

“Well, I don’t know if I should say what he-”

“Say it.” You give him your consent, because you need to know what got Peter so riled up that he would let himself get beat up.

“He… um…” Peter swallows, and he wonders if he should. Because you’re only now just starting to open up- he’s worried that he’ll say the wrong thing and push you aside, and he can’t have that again.

Peter continues anyways. “He made a shitty joke- just some offhand comment about how he could show you a better time than me, I guess?”

You feel your face turn hot at the implication.

“And… he just wouldn’t stop. I tried, you know, to just ignore it, to respect women and not give into the toxic masculinity bullshit. But that made him more… eager to get a response.” Peter stares at his hands, and he starts getting a bit of a grimace going on. “He started going on about how your body must look- I’m not gonna repeat that, sorry, even if you want me to, I think it’s too much- and I guess he kept saying it was a shame you were wasted on me.”

You hold Peter’s arm, and he looks back up at you.

“That’s when I couldn’t take it. I punched him.” He shrugs, and your eyes widen.

“Peter…”

“I don’t regret it, Howlett. He had it coming- it was so satisfying to watch.” Peter shakes his head. “I know, I know. That’s toxic. And he punched me back, see?”

“I thought you knew better than getting into fights.” You cross your arms. “Ah, well at least I can rest easy knowing it wasn’t about me.”

“Wasn’t about-” Peter gives you an incredulous glance. “Of course it was about you, moron.”

“Huh?” You look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “C’mon, Peter. You only punched him when he made you feel inadequate.”

“I don’t care about that.” Peter is impatient, but you’re just barely listening now. Already convinced of your own idea. “I care that he thought all of your value was summed up in whether or not he got a hard on. That you exist just to be the receiving object of some idiot’s orgasm.”

“Great visuals as usual, Peter.” You snicker, but he’s entirely serious. “Okay. I’m sorry… I know that you care.”

You ignore the hollow feeling in your chest as you say that. Maybe Peter was so disgusted, so thrown off by the very idea of you two together, like that, that he would defend your honour in the most purely, platonic way.

You know these thoughts aren’t rational. You’re just too cowardly to really talk to him about it.

Peter doesn’t even really know what threw him off like that, anyways. Of course he was going to defend you- you’re too special to him that he would let anyone talk about you like that. Even a potential boyfriend.

He shudders internally at that thought for some reason, and then can’t place why. Why beat someone up for you? Why feel threatened by a boyfriend?

He doesn’t love you… right?

Peter’s got a hell of a lot of questions swirling around in his brain now, and they’re not getting any clearer as you start backing away a little. There’s a couple of potential answers, sure, but he’s not going to get a genuine one unless he talks to you.

“I… um… I care about you too.” You say in the most monotone whisper, and Peter cannot tell if you mean that in any way at all, let alone platonically or romantically.

Damn it, he thinks. She’s pulling away again. Is this what happened last time? I was accidentally displaying too many feelings, and she didn’t know how to reject me?

Peter exhales. He thinks this should be a good thing. You’re at least talking to him- he’s going to be okay with that for now.

“Okay.” He blinks. “I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No…” You roll your eyes at your own antics. “Peter, I’m just an overthinking idiot sometimes.”

“I know.”

You hit his shoulder and he laughs.

“We’re good, right?” You ask, and Peter nods, as if he was insulted that you had to even ask the question. It seems a tad put on, but you take it.

“Aw… we can’t watch a movie together now.” He tuts, pointing at how individual and faraway your seats and personal screens are.

“Maybe that’s for the better.” You yawn, stretching and teetering on the arm rest that you’re sitting on. “We should get some sleep?”

Suddenly, a flight attendant walks past you in the aisle with the drink cart, which hits you just hard enough that you fall over the arm rest. You steady yourself, and your face brushes against Peter’s cheek.

He’s unnerved how close you are to him now. It doesn’t help that the relationship between the two of you that was assumed by the TSA agent was so… erotic in nature.

Peter’s head is swirling with ideas and thoughts that he’s not sure have any valid place in reality- he nearly bites his tongue when he’s possessed by some inane urge to kiss you. He looks down at his legs, and then back at you, feeling guilty when he just said he cares about you as a person. Maybe he sees it both ways? Maybe he likes you so much that it’s truly intertwined in that emotion that one might describe as love?

Peter’s eyes drift towards your own, and then back to your lips. You feel your face warm- and then your stomach flip flops, and you decide to put an end to it before it gets complicated.

“I’m- uh… I’m gonna just-” You get up and motion to your seat, and he nods, unable to talk about what just happened.

Peter only wakes you up close to when the flight is over. It’s only the two of you in this cabin, and it’s very dark, so you nearly punch him until you realize who it is.

“Jesus, Peter!” You draw your arm back, and he snickers. “What is it?”

“You fell asleep for most of the flight.”

“So you were watching me, creep?” You blink at him, only half joking.

Peter sighs, and leans forward on the balls of his feet.

“This coming from the girl who would stare at me through the window when I was waking up for elementary school every morning?” Peter raises his eyebrows, and you shake your head, laughing.

“That was perfectly innocent.” You snort. “I was just saying hello to my good friend. You.”

He notices that you sound more okay with being his friend again, and he’s glad. You wave at him, making a mockery of how you used to always say hi, and Peter grabs your hand.

He nudges- well, pushes- you to move over on your absolutely massive seat-bed, which was honestly too much space for just you, anyways. And he sits down next to you.

“So?” You try to ignore how Peter’s body is against your own.

“Here.” He hands you a aluminum foil container, that you’re kind of surprised you didn’t see him holding, and you take it. It’s quite heavy.

“You were knocked out cold for a bit, and the flight attendant really didn’t want to leave you hanging with airplane food.” Peter scratches his face. “I know, right? VIP privileges right there.”

“Yeah. There have been plenty of summers us poors have been forgotten back in the economy seats.” You sniff, and Peter laughs.

“So yeah. It’s just your food.” He nods, but you wonder why he’s sitting next to you, and tell him as much.

“Oh, right.” Peter pulls out his phone. “MJ kept texting me about something… just give me a moment…”

At the sound of her name, you feel your heart plummet rapidly.

You try to remind yourself- it’s been almost a decade, and you’re too old to be caring this much about that- plus these are some of your closest friends.

You resist the urge to push Peter away, and yet, you miss what he’s said entirely.

You’re seventeen years old again. You’re sitting outside at a park bench with your friends.

MJ is telling you about how excited she is to go to prom this year- and how she just must find the perfect dress in the most accurate blue-green shade that matches her eyes correctly.

You’re only half listening- you don’t really care all that much about prom. What’s more important is getting into university.

You have your heart set on NYU, and Peter, Empire State. MJ and Har, on the other hand, are leaping headfirst into their careers, MJ with modelling, and Harry taking over a management position at his dad’s company.

You’re not even really thinking about university right now, either. Peter is staring at MJ as she talks to you, her long red tresses of hair bundled into a messy bun, making the perfect halo of copper strands. She looks like a princess of some faraway medieval kingdom- she’s just missing a crown.

Your smile falters as you watch Peter blink, and turn red, unable to tear away his gaze at MJ as she giggles at his not-that-funny joke.

This is so stupid. You think, but your thoughts are barely coherent. I was never even an option for him. Why can’t I just be normal? Why do I have to get upset over every little thing? I just want him to look at me like that. He didn’t do anything wrong…

But you think to yourself that Peter did do something wrong. This whole time, you had started to grow affectionate when he would offer to hold your books, or walk home together from school, or study in the library for finals. He had become exceedingly good looking- no longer wearing his reading glasses, brushing his hair into more of a long, scruffy look, his scrawny teenage body slowly becoming more built into the body of a man- and you find that lately Peter’s brown eyes mean more to you than you used to think.

Perhaps your only mistake was assuming that anything he did was any different from your usual friendship.

The thought sobers you from your internal thrashing. Peter hasn’t really led you on at all, you’re just an idiot with too many feelings.

Peter says something about how MJ’s eyes are more blue than green, and she giggles and widens her eyes so he can take a good look at them and see just how wrong he is. As he leans closer, and closer, his eyes peering into her own as if he’s actually studying the colour and not looking for an excuse to just be near her, you feel sick.

Sick of being ugly, being the weird best friend, being totally boring and just not as cool as MJ. And sick of the unrequited nature of this fondness you feel for Peter- it’s not anyone’s fault, but you wish it just didn’t happen. It’s like an awful joke.

You’re back to the present. Peter has been shaking your shoulder.

“Huh?”

“MJ says she’s really sorry, but she needs to ask us to be at a rehearsal wedding and reception today.” Peter says, and he shows you his phone like it’s nothing. “Something about the Cathedral not being available any other time.”

Like you’re not a creep who wouldn’t immediately check how often he texts MJ.

You take a tiny inhale. Remember how old you are. Remember that Peter does care about you and what’s in the past is in the past. You read the Instagram messages like a normal person.

maryjanewatson: Hey peter!! Can you tell lettie that we’re having the wedding rehearsal today? Like 5 hours after you guys get out the airport

maryjanewatson: So sorry btw, i tried to rearrange it for tmr so u would at least have a day’s rest!! sadly it did not work out.

pbp: yeah that’s fine. Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell her. We’ll try to be awake :)

You blink. It’s just messages between friends, not even a hint of flirting between them, and then you wonder what the hell is wrong with you that you expected any different. MJ loves Harry- she would never look at another man the same way as she did him- and Peter, regardless of whatever his current feelings were, would always respect that.

“So that’s fine, right?” Peter comments, because you haven’t said anything in a bit and he wonders what you’re zoning out about.

“Yeah, she can’t help that. It’s fine.” You yawn a little. “I wonder what we’ll have to do.”

“Knowing Harry and MJ, it’s going to be a super coordinated affair, but I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Peter pauses. “At least, I’m sure you’ll be fine. I might trip when walking down the aisle.”

“And who’s arm am I holding?” You nudge him jokingly. “I’ll try to hold you up, Parker.”

Another IG message from MJ pops up before Peter can respond, and you read it before you instinctively tell yourself not to.

maryjanewatson: Oooo, so you guys are tired??? What on EARTH could u two have been doing to be so sleepy, I wonder? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Peter groans, and you- to your credit- start laughing. Cackling, really.

MJ knows how to joke around, so it doesn’t sound nearly as bad in the way she puts it. But you wonder if she’s been teasing Peter a lot, and it makes you feel guilty, that your own silly former crush is making MJ feel the need to play matchmaker.

Peter is amused at your reaction, but he doesn’t know why you’re laughing so hard, and why he cares so much about the reason.

“She doesn’t-” Peter starts, but so do you.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” You nod, and Peter nods in solidarity.

You’re glad you can at least form a union on that.

Peter checks out his reflection in his phone screen. “Shit.”

“Huh?”

“This looks pretty bad.” He points to his face, and you see that the bruise still looks shiny and red. “Howlett, you’ve got makeup or something, right? Can’t imagine what Harry and MJ will do when this ruins their pictures.”

“I’m sure it will heal in a day or two.” You say drily, but you still pull out stuff out of your backpack. “Here’s a cream for burns- it’s not really meant for bruises, but it will help with the pain, if you’re feeling anything.”

Peter takes it, and slathers some on, instantly sighing as the cool sensation relieves the heat of the bruise.

“Oh, you just gotta-” You don’t know how to tell Peter that he needs to rub it in, so you do it for him, your fingers gently patting and rubbing the cream into his cheek.

Peter stares at you, and keeps staring even as you look away into your bag again. Your face is warm again, because you forgot just how close you are to him and MJ’s last message really doesn’t help your thoughts here.

But you also just feel a fondness for him, which is nice. It’s nice to be his friend, and take care of him like this- if Peter would let you, you’d do this for the rest of your life.

“Okay, I know this looks odd, but this will draw attention away from the redness.” You pull out a green colour corrector, and Peter nods.

“Colour theory. Nice.” He says drily as you dab little green spots with the doe foot applicator, and then rub his skin.

Peter’s eyes drift from your hand, to your face, to your eyes, and then to your mouth again, and you watch his jaw clench- he visibly swallows and lets you keep going.

You stop when the green has melted into his skin, making it look effortlessly clean and peachy like his natural skin tone, as if nothing had happened.

“Better?” You ask, and Peter looks at his reflection again.

“Better.” Peter says in a significantly more husky tone, and you try your best to ignore the shivers down your spine.

The airport in Florence is pretty ordinary. A modern building with not much appeal inside of it. You, Peter, Logan, May and Ben arrive there around 2 PM, thanks to the time zone difference. You head inside a cute mini bus after a quick chat with the security agents- Peter doesn’t have to punch this guy, as he’s perfectly polite- and it’s off to drive to where the Villa Cetinale will be waiting for you.

Your dad taps your shoulder, and you turn.

“Smile for the camera, kid?” Logan holds up his Canon camera, and you have to laugh at the fact that he takes photography so seriously. There’s a whole Italy album spanning years worth of funny, heartfelt moments.

You nod, and Peter flashes bunny ears behind you as you smile. The next picture is of you shoving him, and Peter laughing.

The wind coming through the shuttle window is relaxing. You find yourself feeling more relaxed, remembering that this is a vacation, and you are supposed to have fun.

“Darn. We didn’t get any Neapolitan pizza.” Peter says, and you tell him that you’re sure you can get some in Florence.

“Really, Howlett? I thought our years of Neapolitan pizza eating would teach you some well-deserved snobbery.”

“Is it going to be that different in Florence?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Peter takes a dramatic pause. “...Yes. Don’t you know anything about the regional differences in food here?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot you were Italian. Apparently.”

As you banter, May and Ben smile to themselves. Thinking just how great it is that you two are finally in cahoots with each other again.

One hour later, an hour you’ve spent mostly napping, as it is, you arrive to the Villa Cetinale, which is in Siena. Despite MJ saying that it wouldn’t be like Florence, you’re uncultured enough that all of Italy feels the same. Peter wakes you up with a tender grasp on your shoulder, and Logan gives the two of you an inquisitive look- which makes Peter drop his hand immediately.

“Oh my god.” Those are your first words as you walk out of the bus, after you’ve thanked the driver that Harry has apparently paid to drop you right off at the Villa Cetinale.

The first thing you see is a gorgeous, lush garden, full of mossy bushes and trees that are snipped into geometric shapes, perfect square and triangles that you can walk through. There are large, marble sculptures covered in vines, and you assume they must be decades if not centuries old, just based on some of the weathering and rough textures.

There are massive flowerpots in between the bushes, containing either shrubbery or pretty, delicate yellow flowers. And at the centre of the land, is a beautiful square, boxy building, looking as large as a mansion, in an off white colour contrasted by green window shutters, somehow both cozy and luxurious in it’s scattered brick exterior. A four pillar opening to an inner loggia (an open patio of sorts) and swirling emblems give the impression of an art piece.

It’s stunning- it looks like a vacation home fit for a royal family.

It totally makes sense why Harry would rent this place for his wedding. Yes, it’s probably obscenely expensive, but you have to admit- it has that soft touch that MJ probably wanted, and it’s very pretty to look at.

The air quality is almost sinfully clean, and you feel a wide smile working it’s way onto your face. The sun is shining, the smell of the soil and path around you is familiar- and you turn to smile at Peter.

“I love Italy.” You beam, and he, for whatever reason, looks away for a moment- if Peter was honest, it’s because you were unexpectedly too cute and he could not handle it- but he turns back towards you and says that he agrees.

“I’m glad we’re back.” Peter comments as you motion for him to come along while you pull your suitcase, and walk down the gravel path towards the door.

It’s kind of a long walk, actually, which tells you how much land this place actually spans. You pass by other smaller buildings- they appear to be sheds, or perhaps homes for the servants of the villa, you can’t be sure- and as you walk, you turn just to take in your surroundings. There’s loads of forest spanning both the front and back of the villa.

When you reach the front gate of the villa, MJ pops out of the front door immediately, swinging through the patio chairs and tables between the pillars. She’s wearing a bright coral sundress that somehow does not clash with her red hair, and she’s also wearing big, white framed sunglasses, which make her look even more famous.

You think she and Harry will raise a great nepo baby someday, just based on the current vibes you’re getting. You wonder if you’ll be an adequate aunt.

“Lettie, Peter! Buongiorno!” She runs towards you guys, and hugs you both. MJ is a pretty firm hugger- you feel squeezed lovingly, and it’s as if she didn’t see you recently- and she pulls back with a gasp.

“We need to talk about your guys’ outfits. It’s too…” She trails off.

“Poor?” You try, and MJ laughs but shakes her head.

“Casual?” Peter attempts, and MJ sort of nods at that, giving him the point of her finger.

“Yes. Casual sounds about right. No worries, we’ve got tons of clothes for you guys to try on here.” MJ takes a moment to hug Logan, and then May and Ben, and then motions for you to follow her.

“MJ’s gonna make us over until we’ve become little signores and signoras she can be proud of.” Peter whispers as you enter through the pillars of the Villa, into a large foyer with sloping ceilings and elaborate tile work.

“I heard that.” MJ says, cheerfully so. “I don’t mind if you guys want to wear your own clothes- it was just a humble suggestion.”

“That’s coming from you. A total bridezilla?” You ask, only half-joking, and MJ… despite how happy MJ always seems to be, she seems to crack a little here, and then she snorts and laughs loudly.

“I needed that. Needed a laugh. I’m so glad you guys are here. I am so tired of playing up the role of future Mrs. Osborn.” She admits rather candidly, and Logan gets a wary look on his face.

“Don’t mean to intrude, but… isn’t that bad if you’re going to be that for the rest of your life?” He says with nearly no tact, and you gasp, affronted.

“Dad!” You scoff at him, while MJ’s smile trembles a little, as she flinches. “She didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I took it more like, it’s hard to be the lady-in-charge of the Villa and all the wedding planning and stuff, right, MJ?” Peter asks, and she nods a little too eagerly.

“Y-Yeah. Exactly.” MJ sighs, and then tells a servant standing nearby to take your suitcases to your rooms. “I’m sorry… just give me a moment.”

She walks through the main hall, and through the back door, probably into the vast garden of the back.

Peter winces. You glare at Logan.

“What, Lettie?” Logan crosses his arms, getting that grumpy I-know-better-than-you look. “People always need honesty, even if they don’t want to hear it.”

“Not if we don’t know the whole situation, Dad.” You roll your eyes, and Peter doesn’t want to comment on this, but he feels that you’re right. He’s just really bad at coming between you and Logan- he’s afraid of what Logan will say to him, and he really can’t risk losing the hard-earned friendship he’s spent literally decades cultivating with Logan.

Peter just hopes you won’t be annoyed that he’s not defending you in this moment.

“Do we want to go talk to her?” He asks gently, and you hear the usage of we, like a couple, and fail to respond for a moment.

“Let’s give her a minute and then go.”

Ben and May are the first to agree with you, kind of- they still have the older mentality of telling it like it is. Still, Ben thinks highly of MJ and Harry, and he tells you as much.

“I always thought those two were on the same page.” Ben tuts, flipping through one of the many books that the main hall offers for you to read. “It’s probably just pre-wedding jitters.”

“Lord knows we had them.” May giggles suddenly, and Ben chuckles at that. “I thought Ben was going to leave me when I started crying about the ring being a little too loose.”

“You just weren’t eating, May.” Ben reminds her. “You must’ve lost… like ten pounds or something like that, it’s no wonder the engagement ring was sliding off.”

The thought that MJ isn’t eating because of nerves, combined with that strict modelling regime needed to stay hot and skinny, strikes you suddenly, and you tug on Peter’s arm.

“We should go talk to her now.” You say, fear becoming apparent in your voice. You’re worried- Peter can see that clearly in your eyes- because you do remember how frazzled MJ seemed to be, just on the edges, throughout your bridesmaid dress appointment, and that lunch where she just picked at a salad… and how often she checked at her phone, with a disappointed glance, which she quickly covered over with a smile.

You feel like the worst friend. You hadn’t really noticed that MJ needed someone, and you need to be there for her now.

It’s easy to be distracted by all the pretty interior design of the villa, and even as you step through the backyard doors, into the outside, there are more beautiful marble statues, two twin staircases that lead to the second floor of the villa, and many more trees and bushes- you think you can see the famed lemon garden here- but you assert yourself to stay focused on MJ.

Peter walks quickly, not just to keep up with you, but because he’s worried, since you are. You have pretty good judgement of most emotional situations- in fact everyone usually comes to you for advice. So Peter knows your opinion is valuable, and he’s really hoping MJ is okay.

She’s sitting on a white garden chair, under an umbrella, in the shade. Her hair looks like a deep auburn- and it just makes her seem more sombre.

MJ’s drinking a lightly iced tea, and you can already guess there’s no sugar in there.

“Hey, Mary Jane…” You touch her shoulder, and she tries her best to smile at you.

“Lettie.” She sighs, a deep sigh embittered with pent up sadness, and you wonder why. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been nicer to you guys… what a horrible start to your vacation.”

“We don’t care about that.” You start, and Peter thinks about the use of we, too, but he quickly brushes that aside. “Just… are you okay to tell us what’s wrong?

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.” Peter says, and he sits down next to her, and you do, too.

MJ breathes in. Shuts her eyes. And then squeezes a wedge of lemon into her tea.

“It’s not a big deal, at all. It’s just me being silly, I swear.” She suddenly, violently squishes the lemon, and lemon pulp splatters onto the table.

You wince, and give Peter a look. He knows what you mean- things are not well.

“Who am I kidding?” MJ scoffs at herself, and her normally pristine complexion is harsh, red with stress. She’s becoming Tomato MJ. “The wedding planning is a lot, yeah. But even worse- someone went behind my back for next year’s New York Fashion Week, and now I might not be able to secure a designer to model for, and Harry isn’t responding to my texts, and I have no idea why because he’s usually always ready to talk to, and it feels like… it feels like… like I’m alone?”

Her voice breaks, and she bursts into tears.

“Oh, MJ…” You hug her, and she cries as she holds onto you, her eyelashes becoming wet with big, fat tears. Her head quickly finds that gap between your shoulder and neck- and it’s as if no time has passed, again, because you feel like that gap was made for this friendship. You remember all the times you’ve hugged her, and you hope you’re still providing the same comfort.

MJ sniffs, and Peter gently pats her back. He feels like you’ve got it covered- he gives you a thumbs up and you give him a sheepish smile.

“It’s just… I’m not mad at anyone, I just wonder why no one is talking to me.” She wipes a tear away as she lets you go, and you listen carefully. “Why no one seems to want to communicate. Like, fuck, how am I supposed to do the right thing if I don’t know what it is?”

MJ’s comment cuts deep, and you feel like you’ve been in that situation a lot. With Peter, you’re never sure where your standing is with him.

“Listen. I know it’s not the best advice, but you just gotta hang in there, okay?” You hold her hand, and MJ nods, wiping her face a little more vigorously. “It’s frustrating, but soon you’ll find out who did what and for what reason. No need to freak about all the unknowns right now, because they’re just unknowns.”

“Okay. That’s true.” MJ agrees, but she’s still got a hint of worry on her face, and Peter can see that.

“And me and Howlett will help with all the wedding stuff. Promise.” He swears, and MJ’s face brightens. “Maybe we can also help you with the New York Fashion Week thing? What exactly happened there?”

“Oh…” MJ plays with the hem of her dress. “Someone sent my usual designer at Dior an email… and they were already doing a huge favour by taking on someone like me, y’know? I’m not very well known in the model space yet. So the email was accusing me of using connections from Harry to be in the model industry… and as far as I know, Dior is looking into it seriously because they don’t take kindly to frauds using their model-in-training funds.”

“But that’s total bullshit!” You exclaim, and MJ and Peter both look towards you as you start talking. “You must have in your proof of records that Harry didn’t do anything like that for you, right? You started off pretty small, I remember, it was for a local show.”

“Howlett’s right.” Peter nods, affirmative. “We can both look into your history- if that’s okay, MJ- and prove to whoever did this that they’re wrong. And you won’t be booted.”

“I don’t know… it does seem kind of suspicious since I’m marrying him and all.” MJ says, but she immediately shakes herself out of it. “No, you guys are right. I worked hard.”

“You did.” You nod, and then MJ takes on a more suspicious, dark look.

“I think it was one of my friends.” She admits, and Peter looks to you, but you don’t know them either, so you give him an unfamiliar glance. “One of the models that will be here on Wednesday. Elektra, Wanda, Kitty, Bucky, or Nat. Nat and Kitty are already on Dior with me, so that leaves Bucky, Elektra, or Wanda. And I’m pretty sure they were on the shortlist to make it for New York Fashion Week.”

Peter grins. “This is easy. Right?”

It takes you a second but you clue in. “Oh my god, yeah. MJ, you wouldn’t happen to still have the email, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“We can trace back the IP address of the email ID that sent it.” Peter squeezes your hand from across the table, and it’s an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by MJ. “Howlett and I, we’re really good at coding and shit- we’re techie kids and all that, right- so it can’t take more than a day, I swear.”

“I believe you.” MJ smiles. “I’m just wondering when you got all sweet on Lettie, and suddenly decided to hold her hand.”

Peter lets go, kind of dramatically, but his hand twitches for a moment, grazing over your own palm before moving back.

“Can friends not hold hands?” You ask timidly, but MJ gives you such a suggestive look that you’re laughing.

“Okay. No more drama, you guys.” MJ laughs too, shakes her head, and stands up off her chair, into the sunlight. “We should have fun before the rehearsal today. What do you want to do?”

“Whaddya have in mind?” Peter throws right back at her, and she gets another mischievous look on her face.

It’s a very lovely bakery next to the corner store in a teeny village, just a , with loads of different kinds of gelato and ice creams and crepes and tiramisu and biscotti and panna cotta.

Of course MJ would consider this bad, considering that she’s not allowed to eat anything so unhealthy usually. But she’s excited, she’s saying that she deserves a bit of a break for the wedding. You wholeheartedly agree with her.

“But guys, I swear, you two need to let loose and party a little. I’m gonna make everyone drink and party like crazy this week- this is definitely not the extent of our festivities.” MJ chirps excitedly, and pays the cashier while telling him to keep the change.

You sit outside on the patio, looking at a cobblestone street full of Italians and tourists alike.l.

Peter takes a bite of his gelato. It’s a rich, smooth raspberry flavour, and you knew he was going to get it. It’s one of your usual Florentine traditions.

MJ got a new cheesecake tiramisu- apparently sacrilege to the Food Gods of Italy, as the cashier told her he got yelled at by a couple of Nonnas earlier- but she loves it, absolutely grins at the flavours melting on her tongue.

“Better than NYC cheesecake?” You ask, and she nods, taking another massive spoonful. You’re glad to see that MJ is eating, and she definitely seems less stressed.

“Who says tech kids don’t party?” Peter starts, and MJ laughs as he becomes a little offended. “No, really. We might work hard but we still like having fun. Right, Howlett?”

“Is this fun you speak of just between you two?” MJ asks teasingly, but Peter’s face turns red and she lets it go. “Really. This week shouldn’t just be blah blah wedding stuff. I want to make sure we’re all having fun and doing things we want to do.”

You take a bite of your own basil-mint gelato, in a very appealing light green colour. The flavour might not sound good, but it’s really like a refreshing, minty sorbet, not that savoury at all. Just herby.

“Can we choose what to do?” You ask, but MJ is just waving your question away.

“You don’t even have to ask. We’ll try to do anything you guys want.” MJ beams. “And don’t even worry about the other guests- there’s no strict itinerary in place other than our dinner parties, so they probably will want to do other things, and they definitely can.”

“Whoa, whoa, Howlett.” Peter suddenly holds up a finger. “You’ve just got some sprinkles on your face…”

Peter reaches out with a thumb and gently swipes the edge of your lip, and your cheek,and some sprinkles fall off towards the ground. Then, in the most disgustingly lascivious, possibly slutty, kind of perverted way that only Peter could do, he sucks on his thumb.

“Hm. Minty.” He grins, popping his thumb back out, and it takes all of your willpower not to retort back, because Peter has been like this for ages and you refuse to believe that it’s genuine flirting.

MJ looks between the two of you, having trouble believing that you’re both so oblivious.

When you just make it back to the Villa, there’s a lot of splashing, and some loud Italian electronic music playing in the front yard. MJ rolls her eyes, but she smiles. “That must be Harry.”

MJ waves him down, and Harry swims upward, glad to see a few familiar faces.

“Lettie, Peter, it’s me!” Harry pulls himself up off the ledge of the pool, and he looks just as rich-boy-tired-but-chic as you’ve always remembered. Those heavy eyebags have never gone away. He’s sopping wet as he hugs you guys, drenching you both in tons of water.

“Ugh- Har, are you serious-”

“Yeah, Harry!” Peter shoves him lightly. “We’re totally wet now.”

“Yeah, but you guys love it.” Harry snickers. “What the hell are you wearing, anyways? Where’s the Italian finery? Do I need to call a maid over to help-”

“Oh, god, don’t get started on that, please.” Peter pinches his brow, with a small smile because he knows his friend. “We’ll change now, okay?”

“In that case-” Harry shoves Peter, who falls and bumps into you, and you both fall into the pool, water immersing you quite quickly. The blue ceramic tiles of the pool fill your vision, and you kick upwards. You resurface, and pull your hair back, panting, and Peter is shaking his hair, trying to get it out of his face.

“You okay?” Peter asks immediately, and you have to fight down the thought that of course that would be the first thing Peter would say, and you nod.

“We just gotta get this clown back for that.” You lean forwards, and tug Harry’s ankle, which causes him to fall in with a splash, too.

“Now you guys are having fun, damn it.” Harry splutters when he resurfaces. “I missed you guys.”

It’s very touching, but now you have to actually go change and shower when you just wanted to rest a bit before the rehearsal, and that’s a tad bit annoying. Just like Harry usually is- but you can’t help but like him anyways.

Harry tries to hug MJ as you all walk towards the villa- and she rebukes him, holding her hands out and saying that her dress will be ruined if it gets wet. Harry instead places a sopping wet kiss on her forehead, and she groans loudly, but you know she likes it. It still makes you feel a little alone- being a third wheel.

Well, at least Peter is one, too.

What’s distracting you is how Peter’s shirt seems to cling to his waist when it’s wet, and you can’t help but stare, seeing taut stomach muscles through the damp parts of his shirt. You shake your head and wonder why everyone had to turn hot except for you.

When you step out of the shower, just in a white terrycloth towel, MJ is waiting at your bed, and you flinch for a moment.

“Jesus!” You start, and then see her smiling. “Next time just tell me you’re gonna be in here, or knock or something.”

“Will do.” MJ stares at her nails. “Have you decided what you’re going to wear to the rehearsal?”

“Not really.”

“It’s a informal-formal affair. I guess semi-formal.” MJ tells you, as you start getting ready for it. “I’ve picked out a few dresses you can wear.”

There’s a few dresses crowded around in the massive wardrobe when you look, but the first one that catches your eyes is a lovely deep yellow, with embroidered white flowers through our the ruched bustier and long skirt, and very teeny spaghetti straps. It matches your bedroom, strangely enough, since the walls are a nice pale yellow hue, and the canopy over your four-pillar bed is a pretty ivory shade.

When you’ve tried it on, MJ immediately starts clapping.

“Chill out, I’ve barely even tried it on properly!” You say sheepishly, fixing the skirt so it flows out better, and she giggles.

“It just looks beautiful on you.” She asserts, not a hint of irony or wit or any sort of sardonic tone in her voice, and you sigh, knowing that MJ doesn’t lie about fashion.

“Thanks.” You are still bad at taking compliments, and she knows, so she doesn’t take offense.

MJ wordlessly slides a very, very nice weighty gold bangle on your wrist, and before you can express that it’s too much, she gently tells you it’s a special gift for her maid of honour.

“Oh.” You grin. “I wonder if Peter gets anything similar?”

“Depends on if Harry actually tried.” MJ sniffs, somewhat jokingly.

After a bit of makeup (MJ tells you that in Italy you only need a sheer, glowy base like a bit of concealer or a skin tint, a lip and cheek tint, and maybe a little more eyeliner and mascara than usual since that’s what the style is here, and you’re wondering if you’ve been secretly Italian this whole time with this extremely natural, less-is-more look) and some small heels because you know you’ll never be able to rock the 6-inch heels that MJ does as a model, you’re now waiting downstairs.

MJ is wearing a corset sundress, with more elaborate ribbon straps tying the dress tightly across her waist, and the pattern reminds you of those blue-and-white china plates. She looks amazing, of course, and she’s donned a practice veil, apparently not the real thing.

MJ is explaining something about what you’re supposed to do as you walk in the church, but you’re not really listening, because Peter has just walked down the steps from his side of the Villa, towards the main hall. Where you and MJ are sitting on one of the couches.

He’s absentmindedly fixing his hair, not really paying attention to where he’s walking, and he just looks unfairly good. Like MJ-level modelesque, and you feel your breath catch in your throat for a moment. Peter’s wearing a basil green button up top, and casual khaki dress pants, and even though you always teased him for getting sunburned easily as you grew up together, somehow these colours are matching his complexion perfectly, making his skin have a golden hue that you swear you’ve never noticed before.

You bite your lip and look at the ground, unable to really look at him.

“Hey. Is the car here yet?” Peter asks, and you shake your head. MJ has a laugh deep in her throat, just threatening to come out.

You wish you weren’t so obvious.

“Anyways. Like I was trying to say, except Lettie really wasn’t listening.” MJ taps her acrylics against the little side table next to her, and Peter nods, listening.

He’s a little distracted, too- that shade of yellow somehow complements your complexion exactly, and something about you looks glowy and ethereal in a way that Peter doesn’t think you looked like back in NYC, but then he feels weirdly defensive and wants to think that you’ve always looked pretty, and then he internally fumes at the idea that he has always been attracted to you, and is only noticing now, apparently? That can’t be true, right? He’s not that dumb, right?

He decides he’s just going to blame something in Italy’s air.

The car honks outside, and you stand up, ready to go. Peter stands up a little too quickly too- and he bumps into you, and you fall a teeny bit forward, and Peter’s hand grasps around your wrist, steadying you.

“Thanks.” You smile up at him, and Peter feels a disgusting amount of affection.

The wedding rehearsal goes on pretty easily, if not for the fact that everyone seems to be distracted by how beautiful the Florence Cathedral is. You tell Peter as much, and he looks wistfully up to the tall domed ceiling, and down back at you, holding your gaze for a little too long, and agrees that it is beautiful.

You have no idea why every conversation with Peter seems to make you feel soft.

MJ’s mother, Madeline, and Harry’s mother, Emily, both walk down the aisle first, and they do so easily- you hadn’t seen them when you arrived, but it turns out they were out shopping all day, so here they are now. It is crazy how much Madeline you can see in MJ’s face. Harry, on the other hand, must take after his father.

Then it’s Harry’s father, Norman, the absolutely intimidating CEO who you really hope isn’t as terrifying as all your colleague buddies have said. Everyone’s who’s ever interviewed at Oscorp knows what they mean. He’s not here in Italy yet, obviously on important Oscorp business, so you breathe a teeny sigh of relief for that.

After that, it’s Harry, who walks down with a bit more of a strut than necessary… the priest side eyes him.

Then it’s time for the other bridesmaids and groomsmen. Gayle, MJ’s sister, isn’t here, and neither is Gwen, Betty, or the groomsmen- it seems that they’ll all be here Tuesday, with MJ’s model friends as well. You feel a bit bad for her, because so far it only seems like you and Peter’s families are the only extended people really cared to show up at this point, but that’s what happens with destination weddings sometimes. Not everyone can take time off, just like that.

Then it’s time for you and Peter to walk down the aisle. He raises his arm for you to hold onto, and walks at a pace that’s pretty slow, which is what MJ wanted so photographers could take good pictures of everyone. It’s kind of funny- you feel like a kid again, when you and Peter would have to pose at Logan’s insistence for pictures.

Even now, Logan is snapping pictures as he sits in a pew, and it feels like a long walk until you reach the front of the altar, where everyone else is.

Peter is warm, and he smells good- some kind of citrusy soap that makes you think of the lemon gardens in front of the Villa.

“Hey, Howlett.” Peter whispers from gritted teeth. “Nice bracelet. Did that cost half your paycheque, or what?”

“Uh, no. MJ got it for me.” You snort under your breath as you walk, and Peter nods with an approving look.

“I guess we’re matching. Harry did the same thing.” Peter tugs his sleeve slightly, and shows off his own gold chain bracelet. Whereas yours looks feminine and dainty, delicate in how it hangs on your wrist, Peter’s is significantly more masculine, with chain links and a more rugged detail running through them. Still, it does scream matching, and you have to think MJ and Harry did it on purpose.

You tell yourself it’s just a friendship thing. Or a maid of honour-best man thing.

Peter feels soft, reliable to hold onto- you don’t want to let go when you’ve reached the altar. But you do, because you have to go to the side where the bridesmaids are supposed to be standing.

As you make your standing there, Peter does a tiny little wave at you, and smiles, and you do, too.

You watch as MJ sashays down the aisle with her father- he’s been napping all day- but you wonder if the bride should be acting like a model, exactly? It’s not that she doesn’t look amazing, it’s just not very churchlike.

MJ stops herself halfway down, looking somewhat irritated at herself. “Wait- nope, I’m starting over. Sorry, daddy.”

She begins again, holding onto her father’s arm, and this time, it’s a slow walk that demonstrates what a shy, blushing bride MJ can be, and you know if she really wanted to, she could be an actress.

You catch Harry looking at her, with a wistful smile- but Peter looks rather fond of her too, and you can’t decide if it’s just friendship, or if he wishes she was his.

You wonder if anyone will ever look at you like that. Just as you look away, Peter shoots a glance at you, hoping that you notice.

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