#the perspective changes and Beck is standing on a chair

[sadalmostlesbian]

Beck Roy core…

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.�� it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[musicalmukebox]

Let’s Get (Back) Together | l.h. (17)

AU: Parent Trap Dad!Luke

Summary: A strong love which led to a strong marriage and twin daughters. Yet in the end, it didn’t turn out so well. You strongly refuse to encounter him ever again. But what happens when both of you coincidentally send your twin daughters to the same summer camp in Florida after 10 years?

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: ANGST, vices (alcohol and smoking), swearing, verbal fighting, mini but wild SMUT

A/N: In honor of Michael’s birthday week, I present you this. Thank you all for being patient, really. TBH, my birthday was a day after his so instead of receiving gifts, let me give you guys one. Enjoy!

Tag: @valentine-in-my-quinjet

I don’t own Parent Trap and its ideas. It’s only used as inspiration.

Masterlist!! → other parts are there!!

Main Series Playlist

Feedback/Questions/Others? Here.

----

2023, Los Angeles

Another day filming stunts is another day to crash in fatigue. Luckily, you trainers were a lot easier on you today. It’s only been 4 months after giving birth, and regaining your old physique is tougher than ever. This upcoming film you’re working on happens to be a spy movie where you play one of the main leads, meaning a lot of jumps and upper body strength to lift yourself up. You’ve gained a few bruises, but it was a part of the job so it’s not too surprising.

Driving home was too physically demanding, so taking a Lyft felt more suitable. Besides, you can fetch your car tomorrow morning when you come back. All you want in the world right now is to spend time with your family within the early hours of the night.

“I’m home!” You gently turned the knob rightwards to open it, revealing a bright lit room and hearing noises on the side.

“Oh no, Peppa is gonna attack!” A male voice squirmed, followed by a chorus of loud giggling. Your heart soared at the moment already without having to see it yet. As soon as you dropped your duffle bag and changed your Nikes to house slippers, you rushed to join them. The sight you were given has to be one of the cutest views ever.

Based on her small bracelet with a letter “R” charm, Rebecca was being tickled by her father on the white carpet while the older twin with her beanie with a printed letter “S” was clutched on Luke’s bicep. The infants giggled, making you adore them more. It lessened the fatigue massively.

“Oh, mommy is here, loves!” The exuberant father exclaims. This was your cue to approach and greet them, give them some kisses too. Kneeling down your daughters’ level, you lifted Stella up first.

“Hello there, Stella!” She squealed excitedly, drooling from the side. Thankfully, none landed on your face before you put her back down and nuzzled her neck with kisses against her onesie.

“Too fucking cute.” Luke cooed at the sight too loudly, and by instinct, you hissed and slapped his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” He winced. One good thing he got out of that was Rebecca, jumping on his lap with her chubby legs, began giggling again. You gave him dagger eyes while Stella rested between your legs, covering her small ears with your hands. “We don’t curse around the twins, love!” You explained, giving him a disappointed pout.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love. Still trying to get used to the whole parenthood thing.” He apologized, crinkling his eyes and giving a careless grin. He isn’t wrong though, even you still are in disbelief that you’re a mom. Like you have mini-versions of you that will soon be running around this halls and driving you mad. But with your husband by your side, nothing is impossible to conquer right?

“Have you eaten?” You inquired after switching babies for you to greet and Luke to play for a bit. Rebecca is a jolly one, her hands moving everywhere but her jumping on your lap is too strongly against your aching thighs.

“Not yet, we wanted to eat with you. Right, Stella?” He replied, his hands cloaking around Stella’s tiny fists. Her tiny, innocent eyes just stared up at her father’s, who was looking at her lovingly.

“Don’t tell me you’re expecting her to talk already. She’s not even a year old!” Your sarcasm piped in, your face snugged Rebecca’s neck from behind. She finally calmed down, thank God.

“She’s a Hemmings, love. Anything is possible!”

“O-kay, then.” You didn’t want to top that, so you just nodded continuously and let him have that. Standing up and carrying Rebecca to the dining room, there was already food served by the help, the butler Mark and the nanny Felicia. You’ve recently hired them from a famous help institute Bryana recommended, and they’ve not disappointed. Never late and they performed well. But when they are at fault, they fully admit it then come back with a better output.

“Good evening, Miss (Y/N). “ They both expressed at the same time. As much as you respect their formality that they were educated to show, there is no need for any hierarchy because they’re like a part of the family too. Almost all the time, you talk to them informally and tell them stories. Slowly, they feel more comfortable and free in the house as they do their job.

“Hello, Felicia and Mark.” You’ve firstly craned down Rebecca on her high chair beside your chair before sitting down. You were deadly starving, but your little one will always be an important priority as her mashed peas meal has been prepared alongside your clean meal of baked chicken and steamed vegetables by Mark. Felicia was concerned since you’ve working hard this whole day, so she discreetly intervened.

“Miss (Y/N), would you like me to take care of Rebecca while you eat? You have had a long day after all.”

Her care is exquisite, it is her job after all. But considering that you have lost time at home, you wanted to spend some mother-bonding time with Rebecca. Besides, Felicia was tedious today and she deserves a breather.

“I’ll be fine, Felicia. Besides, you and Mark deserve the night off! Luke and I can handle things for tonight again.”

Hearing that from you wasn’t uncommon because Mark and Felicia are human just like you and deserve fun in their lives. They aren’t slaves to you unlike other celebrities, and life is too short to waste. Though them hearing that always gets them excited.

“Thank you, Miss (Y/N). Please be careful though with the dishwasher or we don’t want deja-vu to revisit us.” Mark bantered with slight warning, giving you a glass of water. He’s always joking on you, almost like an older brother. Technically, it’s applicable since he’s merely a few years your junior.

“We shall not speak of that ever again. Now, off you go and enjoy yourselves!” With glad smiles, they were off to God knows where from the dining room. Rebecca grew fussy from the conversation she had no idea was about, loudly whining in hunger in her chair. Swiftly, your hands took the tiny bowl of mashed peas from the table, mixing it a bit.

“Oooh, I’m sorry, Becks love. Mommy just wanted your nanny Felicia and butler Mark to have fun for the night. Here you go.” You mimicked the movements of an airplane with your arm, your fingers gripping the spoon. Rebecca calmed down and followed the movements, opening her tiny mouth when you inserted the small spoon inside. With one slurp, she swallowed the meal while you cleaned her up with the excess the side of her lips. She wasn’t a clean eater like her sister, but she has all her life to make it up. This intimate moment was then joined by refreshed-from-the-shower Luke, carrying Stella who also looked fresher than earlier. As he placed her down her high chair only across your seat, he wiped his forehead. What has he done?

“So our little Stella over here decided to pee her diaper right after you left to go here.”

You were chuckling crazily. Luke didn’t enjoy changing diapers even though it is unavoidable because majority of the time, the twins would unexpectedly urinate on his face without warning! As old as the joke between you two is getting, it always gets you in a chuckling fit.

“I see you’ve showered already.”

“It’s been a long day, angel.” He explains then mixes the other bowl of food for Stella, whom he fed it contents peacefully. Her bright blue eyes gleams even more when she eats, just like her father. A food loving duo.

But you were pretty unsatisfied that he did.

“I see, but I wished you waited. For me. – It has been a long day as you said, baby.” Your foot kicks his under the table, giving him a small frown. As mature as you have to be as parents, you are lovers too and it is often irresistible to not have some sexual tension every now and then. Luke got the message, biting his cheek as he watches you put one hand on your cheek and tilting it.  

“I can always go for a round two.” He brings his body forward against the table, trying to get as close to you when he can. That was until vocal giggling from Rebecca on your side interrupted the mood, which is inappropriate in many levels. Wanting to know the cause, you tried to look at Rebecca’s perspective by angling to her exact bodily position. She was merely watching Stella from the other side, who was making drool bubbles from her mouth that kept popping over and over again. Thus, the giggling was non-stop.

You thought their presence was cute, but their actions made you them much more adorable.

“Little Stella over here like making bubbles, then Becks by you loves the popping sound.” Luke detected while he wiped the dripping drool on Stella on her chin and feeds her more.

“I agree with you, and that’s something pretty memorable, huh?”

Luke nodded, putting his thinking cap because it is a special moment. Simple as is, he wanted to commemorate it someway for the years to come. “Let’s give them nicknames for them. – Sure, Becks is one, but we should give Stella one for short then another for Becks that would link her to Stella.”

There is no favoritism at all for Becks, but Rebecca may be a mouthful at times so Becks was made. But there is no limits to nicknames, right?

“What do you have in mind, baby?” You questioned, finally diving in your meal because Rebecca was a hungry baby who eats fast.

“Hmmm,” Luke began to feed himself while Stella sucks on her water bottle. “I’m thinking poppet for Becks, because it sounds like pop it aka. pop bubbles and she looks like a doll too. Like look at her!”

You actually did, and ugh, she was so precious. “Smart one, babe! – So speaking of bubbles, Stella made a lot. I think bub for short is perfect.”

“Agreed, angel. And so it’s settled.” He faces his older daughter, whose cheeks were puffy from drinking water. Looking at her with much admiration, he says “Hey Stella. We saw how you were making bubbles awhile ago, so your mum and I want to call you bub as a nickname. Blink if you agree.”

Obviously, she would because blinking is in our nature. After him, it was your turn to talk with the younger, whose tiny eyes were closing down. Based on the clock, it was 9 pm and it’s usually their bedtime.

“Hey Rebecca. I know how sleepy you are, but your dad and I figured that aside from Becks as a nickname, we’ll also call you poppet. Why? You were giggling so much when Stella made those drool bubbles that kept popping. I hope you won’t hate us when you get older.”

“Hey! She won’t!” Luke intervened from the other side. He was already stood up with Stella bub, snoozing on his shoulder. “Bub over here is knocked out.”

Rebecca lost her focus and already slept, signaling you to bring her to her crib. Doing so, you cradled her in your arms as compared to Luke and went to their shared bedroom in the second floor. Laying them down together, the both of you watched them briefly. Everything was too precious to touch. Seeing them in peace was everything.

Luke had his arm around your waist while your head rested on his shoulder as you admired them.

“Sorry, Luke but I think I’m going to pass on that shower.”  

-

2034, Sydney

So last time, you crashed on your bedroom in aggravation because of something Luke must’ve said. But how did that happen?

Let’s take it back after you and Luke bid your twins good night.

At the same time their daughters were voicing out in their deep heart to heart session upstairs, the both of you the rest of the night to catch up on personal endeavors since there has barely any time where it was just the both of you. Not just that, there was also another guest invited to this conversation.

“Wine?”

“Sure.”

You watched Luke brought out a bottle of wine from his wine stash near the refrigerator. It had a padlock, and only he knew the combination. He made his way back to you with two wine glasses dangling on his fingers. Placing them on the countertop, he motioned his hands rightward to pop the cork out the alcohol, which was successful in one try. He begins to pour the red liquid delicately on your glasses, and as he finished, he rose his glass up which led to you to obey his movement.

“Cheers.” Both the ends of your glasses clinked against each other, sipping afterwards the bittersweet taste of the liquor.

“So aside from music, what else have you been up to?” You instigated, forwardly leaning against the counter.

“Well, I’m a man of limited interests, you would know. - But because of Andy, I became interested and taking videos. Mostly on my daily life or anything interesting and funny, pretty much vlogging. - Come.” He directed you to the stairs, bringing along the wine bottle as he was leading the way downstairs where only one door was presented. It was similar to the beach house, except there aren’t any pranks involved. From his back pocket, he got out a key. “Only I have access here.”

Skeptical, you arched a brow. “Are you sure you’re not luring me in some BDSM type of room like 50 shades? I mean, you could get kinky.”

He rolled his eyes, laughing at your comment. How he missed this type of banter. “I’m not that crazy, you know? -  You of all people would know. But anyways, just check it out.” Unlocking the door, he switched on the lights to unveil the spacious interior. It was a total man cave. A couch and a widescreen television was placed beside a billiards table. Not only that, there was mini-recording station with different equipment on the side connected to a recording booth with various guitars inside.

“This space is very well designed.”

“Thank you, but give all the credit Eleanor though. Alongside that expertise in photography, she’s great with interior design.” He lets his humility intervene. Touring you around, “Since here’s a mini fridge of other drinks somewhere near the billiards table, and there are sliding doors right on the side if you wanna swim. And speaking of billiards,” 

He playfully yanks out for you a billiards stick with a cheeky grin. “Play for old times sake?” 

Here he brings up a competition with you, and he smugly knows how competitive you can get. Besides, he’s just maximizing the remaining time he has left with you alone since majority of the time, your twins are within your vicinity. Nothing bad, though alone time brings you two closer again. Less to his awareness, you were actually doing the same, appreciating his banter and moments like this. Just maybe some broken things can be mended again. Accepting the wooden stick and putting down your glass on the side of the table, “You’re on.”

Timely, many cue balls were out, many rounds around the table in order to get those perfect angles and also numerous intake of the wine from the both of you, you swore you almost slipped, but thankfully you gripped on that table tightly. 

“Oh shit, you good, (Y/N)?” Luke laughed from the opposite side, his hands placed on the tip of the stick, tilting his head rightwards. He had red cheeks like yours, and his mop of curls were a lot less refined than a while ago. 

“Peachy, Luke. I’m going to win this game, and you know it.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try, love.” He tested the waters, sticking his tongue as he was determined for victory. You expressed a pout on your wet lips, but did it stop you? Heck no! 

And oh you succeeded, focusing on your angles as you had one cue ball left before victory. Yet it was tricky too since you were tied, as either of you had a single ball left. It was neck-to-neck, driving your competitiveness mad. 

“Bring it home, (Y/N).” You whispered to yourself as you closed one eye and making sure your proportions were right. Taking the stick by the side backwards, you stroked hard, watching the mini red ball slowly rolling and nearing one of the holes. “C’mon, c’mon.” 

The anticipation was a killer, and Luke was also on the edge of his heels. His thoughts pleaded that this ball doesn’t go in because he was so close to victory, and he has been unlucky these past days. But nonetheless, it was just a game after all. One slow roll remained for the red ball and it shot inside the hole, making you cheer on the top of your lungs.

“Oh fuck yeah! I finally beat a billiards game against you!” You were pumping your fist in the air, and circling the table in celebration. Then, you made a stop at Luke, who just watched you being happy. 

“Told you I’d beat you.” You bragged, taking your wine glass and sipping on it, only for Luke to take it away from you momentarily. 

“Haven’t you had too much, (Y/N)?” 

“I believe not, and trust me, you’re getting just as intoxicated as me.” Well, you weren’t wrong. Luke was getting more giggly than usual, and he was randomly saying things too. You could’ve sworn that he pinched your cheeks after you answered your question, though you didn’t care too much really. What really mattered to you was your win. 

As you regained your wine glass from his sweaty palms, you pranced your way to his couch, where a wide-screen television laid not so far away when you recalled a previous topic. 

“So, Mr. Hemmings. You told me that you filmed videos these past years, so how about you show me some of them?” You asked curiously, patting a free spot on the couch for him to accept so he would showcase his non-musical works. Actually, you caught on his interest in filming, though it was only limited to his phone camera back then. But after seeing his different cameras on display, you’re bound to uncover something relatively new about him. When he took the spot you offered him, fidgeting as he adjusts, the remote control that rested on the coffee table was upon his grasp. Activating the television, he scrolled up and down through different folders that contained numerous video clips, and as much as he would love to show all thousands of them, he’d prefer to present you the compiled ones of his and Becks’ life these past years.

“I remember how gutted you were that you’ve missed out on many milestones, so here are different mini films I’ve created recently. Well, with the help of Andy in the earlier ones.” 

They were labeled simply, like “Rebecca’s First Football Game”, “Rebecca’s First Day at Primary School”, “Becks’ First Time on Tour”, and “Halloween 2030”.

You clicked on the latter, and the first second was Luke putting on a black mask on his face, and judging on the overall black outfit with a golden belt on his waist, it was obvious he was Batman. You knew how extra he could be on Halloween. Heck, you used to match with him every year before! You already were secretly gawking at his figure, though when the next frame was presented, it was a younger girl, who was easily identified to be one of the infamous villains of the hero. With pale powder blended on her face with red lipstick smudged beyond the ends of her lips, she expressed an “evil frown”. But she only ended up looking more adorable, and who else could it be?

“Poppet!” A familiar voice from the background shouting, but because it was quite loud, it could only be from the cameraman, and that would be Luke. “Say a famous tagline.” 

Her blue eyes deadly narrowed at the lens, looking like she was directly eyeing the camera. “Why so serious?” Ironically, her pouty voice made it seem less serious than she wanted, leaving Luke in a fit of chuckles for his little girl. 

The next few scenes were them trick or treating along their neighborhood, capturing every reaction of their neighbors when Rebecca would say “Why so serious?”. Some pretended to be scared, while others giggled at who well she played her character.

“Get her into acting, she’ll be amazing at it.” An elderly woman advised, handing candy to the little girl who beamed with joy.  

“I kept that mind actually.” Luke comments whilst watching before he turned his face to you. “One skill of yours must be enhanced, so I brought her to an after-school acting program not so far from here.” 

With flattery comes with pride. Despite not being there physically, a portion of your influence already flowed her veins without any idea of who you were then. “Did she enjoy it?”

“Enjoy? Hell, she loved everything about it, aside from music. - She had a play recently, let me find it first.” He regained the remote control from his side, pressing on the arrow down button, his eyes focused deeply on the screen and nose crinkling attentively. But his drive was disrupted by his phone ringing on the table, and a single glance of the caller id concluded his initial search. 

“Important caller?” You asked politely as he picks it up. He grimaced in approval.

“It’s Ash. I’m betting it has to do with the upcoming album.” He stressed, not liking how this man intruded a very important session.

“Take the call then. I’ll look for the video myself.”  You reassured, understanding how busy he could be.

“Are you sure? I mean just let me at least find the video for you.” He tried to compromise, except now you snatched the remote control so he can prioritize Ashton’s emergency needs.

“I’ll be fine, Luke. Now don’t leave Ash hanging!” You reminded him again. All you wanted was to wind down and savor moments you can receive tonight. Besides, you knew how his advanced television worked anyways. 

He knew you were right, and because he didn’t want to start an argument, he accepted the call and excused himself from your presence before he stepped outside to the pool area to get better reception. “Hey Ash.” 

“Hey, Luke. May I ask what you’re up to today?” 

“Chilling with the family and all. Why?” He grew suspicious because of all the times he could’ve contacted, it was right now. 

“Hmm, the twins are with you, huh? Funny, because Scarlett is on video call with your twins right one, wherein I’m implying that you’re with a Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) as if everything’s okay.” 

Caught red-handed. “Ash-”

“Luke, you need to tell her, or someone else will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

By the urgency of his voice negotiating with Ashton as you heard it from the minimal gap of the glass doors, it had to be very important and wishing too that it wasn’t serious. Stress on Luke was a terrible combination, and hopefully it wouldn’t ruin the mood. But regardless, you didn’t want to snitch on his private conversation, leaving you in control of the television, excited to see that play of Becks. Though that was your main focus, scrolling the numerous mini films of Luke showing Becks’ milestones made you want to watch every single one of them. You cared less if you’d stay all night. This was the closest you could be to being there for Becks in the missing years. 

Down and down you searched for that specific mini film, wherein you were assuming its name was “Becks’ first play” because most of the videos had that word and you didn’t get to ask Luke beforehand, one mini film stood out from the bunch due to its title and thumbnail.

Title: europe and her.

 There was uncertainty whether you were meant to see it, but it’s too late to undo that thumbnail image because it differed from the rest. It was the backside of a woman looking across the river at the ledge of a bridge, her hair flowing freely on her shoulders with a beret. The backside of woman looked familiar, in which it took less than a minute to process that it happened to be yours. With that said, you needed to press play, and when you did, all nostalgia came hitting you hard like a boxer hitting your face 

“Love, look back!” A husky voice in the background called your attention there, making your body pivot around to the source. 

“Crap, I wasn’t ready, Luke!” You from the video squealed at the sight of the lens zooming on your face, covering it with your hands as protection. 

Based on the setting and format of that clip, the camera used surely belonged to Andy and it was during one of the tours of the band. You were fresh out of university, officially joining the class of the funemployed people! Sarcastically speaking, job searching in the film business that time hasn’t been the best. So to relieve you, Luke brought you along on another tour. Though this time, it was not just the North American leg, but the European, Asian and Australian legs too. That same clip was from Paris, the first European city you’ve stepped foot on and you were smitten. 

It transitioned to another clip, which now differed in location and focal point. It was your hand from behind holding his whilst you were strolling around the gardens of Versailles. Now, he was the one filming. It was a great day, you recalled. Being able to immerse yourself easily in conversations with the locals, then translating for Luke. 

The other clips were a mix of Andy and Luke’s, seeing a variety of filters and doing funny and mellow things in different countries, yet keeping the main theme consistent. And what was it? 

Love.

The next clip that was projected was at an arcade in Spain since the words and instructions inside were in Spanish. The colorful lights were quite turbulent, and messy, playful sounds in the background that had the volume on high. It was you watching Luke in the frame playing an old-style version of Pacman, meaning Andy had to be the one capturing. Calum and Ashton made a short cameo, explaining the gist behind your frame.

“So those loser lovebirds over there made a bet.” Ashton began, placing his elbow above Calum’s leather covered shoulder.

Calum picked up from where Ashton ended. “They’re currently playing best out of 3, and both won one round. So whoever loses, the winner posts an embarrassing meme-worthy selfie of the loser on the loser’s twitter. – Shift back to the lovebirds!”

He made a “swoosh” sound, his finger pointing upwards as a transition, which worked because the focus returned to the both of you around the game machine. Luke just explained his overall score, boasting that he was currently in the lead, but you still had a chance to change the game. Gripping on the controller and tapping on the buttons to avoid getting caught by the evil ghosts, your forehead was sweating and nothing could distract you. Luke tried to by tickling your sides, but you always ended up kicking his shin numerously with your vans-covered foot because he was trying to cheat.

“Knock it off, Luke!” The competitiveness in your now-low pitched voice erupted, not moving your eyes even by an itch to keep a close eye on Pacman on the screen. 10 minutes in, and you were a hundred points before breaking Luke’s score and he was petrified on how well you were doing. You had some tricks up your sleeve that you’ve never told him about since this game was a childhood pastime of yours.

“Shit, no!!” He screamed when your current score beat his overall, getting him to jump all over the place and run away from the sight of the camera. Ashton and Calum were praising your victory, high-fiving after you finished and laughing because they knew how petty you could get, so posting this meme-worthy photo is their entertainment of the night.

“Luke, get your ass back here!” You shouted, biting your tongue on the side. Michael, who was initially cozying up to Crystal in a zombie-killing game with their toy guns, found the younger male hiding behind their game machine, so he was kind enough to drag his ass back by the shirt to you.

“Good luck, mate.” He wished, laughing at his loss before getting back to Crystal as he dropped off your then loser boyfriend. Smirking at him, you put your palm up.

“Your phone please, babe.”

Luke always liked a compromise before giving in. So once he puts out his phone from his front pocket up, teasingly claws it down to your palm, he lifted it back up. Annoyed, you jumped up and down to catch it, but he kept raising it higher.

“No fair!” You complained, ceasing your actions and crossed your arms. It sucked to know that he hates losing, but you were both alike in that aspect. With this, it’s as if he wants something before he caved in, so you asked, “What do you want, love?”

Leaning down his head to yours, his lips were already ghosting over yours. With his warm breath fanning, “Kiss me first.”

Fucking tease, that’s what he is.

“Don’t twist the forfeit, babe. You just hate admitting your defeat.” He mimicked your smirk, licking his upper lip to get you even more worked up.

“Oh come on, it won’t hurt to give one. Besides, you’ll be ruining my dignity in a few minutes, so a kiss would really strengthen me when fans roast me.” His sweaty palm snaked through the curves of your butt, giving it a squeeze that isn’t shown. Instead, the reaction to it was through the widening of your eyes in the frame. If you retaliate through your words, he will find a way to top it off. Thus, you had to change your methods if you wanted to get his phone, and boy, changing the plan was faster than you expected. Not letting down your smirk, you agreed to his terms.

“Okay then, Luke.” Without warning, you powerfully took over by crashing your lips instantly on his, entangling your arms around his neck and bringing him closer. Luke was taken by surprise, not used to you giving in so easily based on how stubborn you are. Nonetheless, he enjoyed it and was easily consumed by your dominance, wrapping one arm around your waist and lowered your body a bit like in the movies. Because you were both being filmed, the restriction of using tongue was there, solely your lips were moving. Luke was softly engrossed, only having you on his mind, which was where you wanted him.

Since he still had his free hand with his phone put on this side, you sensually slid one hand down through his body so he wouldn’t get suspicious and only get him more worked up. Win-win really. Feeling the tip of the gadget, you tightly yanked it out of his hand and made a run for it.

“Run, (Y/N)! Run!” Ashton cheered you on as you tried to find an empty spot to expose the poor boy, holding back Luke from chasing after you with Calum. Luke was still in shock, surprisingly impressed with your cunning ways.

“Hope you love getting roasted again, mate!” Calum joked.

After that line, the scene was changed. It was no longer a crazy lit place, but instead it was a warm, sunlight one where it was Luke’s back on focus. He was still peacefully sleeping while you straddled his back. From here, it was actually you filming, and you grinned at the memory.

That was set in Berlin, after a concert and got hammered at one of the pubs the boys and you went to wind down. It was also post-drunk sex, one of the roughest nights in your relationship. Mindlessly trailing your neck and collarbones, you looked back on wobbly your steps were when you explored the city that morning and how dark those hickies he left that was a huge struggle to cover up with concealer and color correctors, which resulted in wearing a turtleneck for the next few days. Out of nowhere, there was an unconscious desire you’ve developed that craved Luke’s lips to mark you down that way again. Let him reclaim what’s his.  

This was probably from the alcohol that’s messing with your mind. But then again, doesn’t intoxication confront your sober thoughts?

“Not again, (Y/N). Stop.” You mildly slapped your face and returned your regard to the screen, where now, Luke has woken up. His bed hair flew all over his face, and fuck, his pecks and collarbones were just as bad as yours.

“Holy shit.” You gasped loudly whilst shakily holding the camera. Not only were you in awe at his physique, but feared at how much trouble he’ll face, alongside the other boys’ teasing.

“How bad is it?” He asked innocently and groggily, brushing his locks. With the sunlight, it emphasized one side of his face and its beauty.

“Damn.” Your current self was amazed, biting your lower lip. Comparing to then and now, Luke has aged well. Sure, some wrinkles and a bit of white hair are there but he still looked so ethereal.

The scene right now is a shirtless Luke looking at himself in the mirror, groaning at the severity of the hickies from last night. Expecting a mad remark, he continued on and instead, tackling your body again where he was hovering over you. Still holding the camera up his face,  

“Aren’t you so needy?” He rasped before lowering down, then hearing his lips smacking against the bottom of your ear. Also known as your weakest spot.

“Luke, shit.” You moaned softly. Then Luke lifted himself back up, grabbing the camera from you and making you the new focus. You were only in a bralette and your sleeping shorts, where the marks were as prominent and scattered as you remembered. Somehow, you’ve missed that kind of action. Timmy couldn’t match up.

“Look at you, such a mess for me.” His fingers ran down until above the part where you then needed him most. “But a mess that I love so much.”

“Luke, do something.” You watched yourself squirm right before that same free hand tightened on your hip.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. – I always do.” He purred. The camera’s view lowered and only seeing white, which is from the bed sheets.

More lips smacking echoed and quick rustling from the sheets, you were getting so turned on by the past. Was there a doubt there? None. Your panties were dampening by the sound of his raspy moans, remembering how you willing allowed him to conquer the free spots of you in every possible.

“Damn, (Y/N). I love you so much.”

“God, I love you so much too, Luke.”

The temptation of touching yourself repeatedly haunted you, like a mini devil was urging you to just let your fingers swipe just a little bit. If he can’t satisfy you anymore, why can’t you? But wait, have you grown willing again to him? Like are you actually considering Timothee’s advice and reevaluate yourself after turning it down bluntly? Look at you, crazily pondering on the only man you’ve ever loved and the things he did to please you, getting you to open up to the opportunity on a second chance.

Just when you were on the starting point of re-evaluaton, that short, ungodly clip was gladly changed to an innocent one.

Gladly, really (Y/N)?

This time, it was Andy filming again. Based on the dialogue in the background and wide mouth of the area, the location is now in Verona, Italy. Fans chanting for the band in Italian are clearly heard from the outside, but the main audio was then exchanged to Luke playing on the guitar, building up to the main verse.

“… Darling, all of my wrongs, they lead me right to me wrapped in your arms, I swear I'd die…”

The fans grew hype, screaming in excitement as their favorite lead man was warming up for tonight’s show and even singing along to him. Yet what they didn’t know was that from the inside, this lead man was also serenading to you, stood happily in the empty mosh pit near the barricades. Hiding your blushing cheeks wasn’t too easy, especially with Andy zooming in and out your face with his camera.

“Andy!” You covered your face as the filmmaker chuckled, switching his focus to the lead man who was on his knees right near your face. Passionately brushing his instrument to get the best sounds, he sang and nearing your face while at it. Once the last chords were performed, he dipped down to leave a kiss while you were ready to receive it, clutching on the metal barricades.

To your dismay, it was rudely ruined when a gush of water spilled down on the tops of your heads.

“God damn!” You repelled away, jumping from the barricades and shaking your entire body as a drying mechanism.

“Calum Hood!” Luke called out the Kiwi, who was responsible for the intimate intrusion. The latter ran to one of the wings, yet he showed himself without fright when he was summoned.

“What, mate? Your PDA has too much for today. – Erase that, the entire European leg alone!”

The mini film is 7 minutes long, and you aren’t even halfway done. But crap, it’s gotten difficult to stop viewing it because the essence of reminiscing the simpler days with him sparked your curious mind, uncovering these mostly unseen footage just as you’ve found yourself in a more complicated situation with your feelings. Not just that, you’ve actually enjoyed watching it.

In fact, it made you miss him more. Okay, knock it off, intoxication.

However still, was it intended for you to find or was it a coincidence? 

“Oh, fuck.” The film showing was paused snappishly when Luke arrived back to the man cave, in disbelief and stressed that this hidden gem unveiled. Already Ashton was biting from behind, and now out of all the films and other unedited videos that you could’ve played, that specific one just popped out of nowhere. How far have you scrolled down? It was an old project he created out of reminiscence during the early years of post-divorce. It served as a coping mechanism at first so he could get over you. But mid-project, he quit because it made him sadder to recall numerously in different clips that he had lost you.

Your back was still turned against him, deep breathing from agitation. There was no way you can cover this up. But eventually, you’ve come to your senses.

You needed to face this head on because you’ve had already enough of hiding.

“Why Sierra, Luke? – Tell me!” Your frustration took over, alongside heartbreak.

He stiffened, dreading that topic after Ashton. He wants to cover everything up, but that would reverting back to secrecy and lack of trust. So he mustered himself up, braving himself of his next words and making sure not to mess up. “Well, she got me back on my feet after the divorce, and helped in every songwriting process for inspiration. She gave me happiness in and out of work and also someone I could trust, or so I thought.” 

The idea of Sierra giving Luke so-called happiness is sickening, but you continued on listening. This is applicable to Luke, his stomach felt troubled as he spoke of the horrid woman that ruined his life.

But wait, the last sentence got your attention.

“Or so you thought? What do you mean?” It was all too like Timmy from the café, where he expressed his uncertainty. And now Luke had that too.

Here goes nothing, Luke.

“Because ... Because she was liable of making up the rumors from the different gossip magazines and blogs.” 

An answer you never expected. Your body felt paralyzed, your lungs being pushed down hard so you couldn’t breathe.

“W-What?” Almost like you were drowning in water, an ocean of raging emotions that wanted to lash out. Luke saw it through your fiery eyes.

“That bitch! I’m gonna kill her!” You belted, all the effects of your continuous wine drinking kicking in. You wanted to pounce out the room through the wide doors and find the woman, except Luke blocked you with his figure. Restraining on to your wrists, you shook them frantically so he would let them go. But he didn’t.

“Luke, let me go! Please!” You begged painfully and repetitively, hoping for some kind of mercy and allowance. He still wasn’t complying, aware that your vengeance wouldn’t result well and make things work. Put into perspective, he was just as pained as you were when he maintained a straight face. Similar to a soldier. Revenge in any way is a satisfying idea, but you both aren’t low as her. Instead of violent means, he tugged you in for a hug.

With pain, sadness lies in the backseat. Now, it takes the lead where its extra friend named devastation is sharing its position. Luke drops his grip and wraps his arms on your sides, remaining silent. Rather than whining for mercy, you uncontrollably let out loud whimpers and crying relentlessly. Watery tears followed, and no longer was it a surprise. It has almost become a habit after all the news dropping, and it frightened you that this may not be the last. “She took away Rebecca from me and ruined my sanity. But most of all-”

“(Y/N), please stop.” He ordered, being reminded of that has left him scarred.

“She made me lose you.” This was your chance to admit everything, ridding the burden. “All because-”

Suddenly, Luke pushed you off his arms harshly, still keeping his stiffness.

“What the fuck, Luke?”

He was getting encapsulated into his feelings, almost getting a shed of tears. But frankly, he felt angrier than sadder. Not just at Sierra, but at you. Imagine the biggest information of your life has been hidden behind your back. Well, there was Sierra who spat it at him, which was as worse as her sneaky slander. The opportunity from the beach house was there, so she took advantage of it, and he couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know about the feud you both had.”

Just when you thought you could beat him to telling that, you were wrong. Speechless, that’s what you were.

“Why didn’t you tell me about it, huh? You never warned me how bad she was behind my back!” He blamed, sounding as intoxicated as you with his slurs.

“Because she was a close friend, a great artist too! I couldn’t allow myself to be a friend-wrecker, and if I said anything, she could’ve ruined your career! – I’d rather let her beat me than have you hurt!”

“(Y/N), having you hurt fucking hurts me too! You thought for me in advance, which led to leaving secrets because you never gave me a chance to leave an opinion!” He combusted like wildfire. “Shit, we would’ve never divorced if you told me!”

“But here we are, already divorced and fighting like a decade ago.”

He scoffed at your snarky remark. “Fuck (Y/N), if you really loved and trusted me then, Sierra and her evil acts were already out of the photo. But no, you chose secrecy and that is just too selfish of you!”

He was actually right. You had a choice that night you met Sierra, yet you chickened out and took the fall. But either way, you were going to lose Luke. Having nothing else to say, the room grew too stuffy and less oxygen was entering your body.

“I was just trying to p-protect you.” You stuttered while your anxiety was taking over, making you need to leave the negativity.

“(Y/N), wait!” Luke chases after you after you ran away in shock. You were in disbelief, lacking oxygen in your lungs at the bomb Luke has just dropped. Nothing could stop your pace as you dangerously leaped the slippery steps.

Blasting open the door of the guest room, you loudly locked it shut before jumping on the bed with your raging emotions. Screaming against your pillow, a waterfall of tears were released. Only this time, it was the peak of your pain. You hiccupped more than usual and screamed until your throat became dry. Not so long later, soft knocks crept in when you removed the pillow on top of your head.

“(Y/N), please let’s talk.”

“Leave me alone.” You shouted back, too hurt to face him and full of anger in your heart.

“Please open the door. I’m begging you.” Luke kneeled against the door, pleading to explain.

“Just go away, Luke.”

----

Space.

Luke did as he was told, especially since he put another round of stress on your shoulders once more, like it would never end.

He also felt too compressed from all that negativity and hated bringing his anger on you, so he stood up to the pool area for fresh air. He dipped his toes at the edge of the pool, and having his e-cigarette on his pocket, he brought it out and huffed to receive the aromatic smoke. He opened up a Corona to keep up with his intoxication, just wanting to numb everything out. Though he kept his eyes on the sky, appreciating how the stars still shined so brightly despite all that darkness. Coincidentally, he could relate that to his life, only now nothing is shining. Your mending relationship with him could be deteriorating again, but it would be much worse.

Sulking on the bed, you despised life even more. Letting go of Timmy took a hard toll, then discovering Sierra’s psychotic acts? More anger was just begging to be released, but that was too selfish of you. You always thought of others, and it should remain that way. Also, it’s toxic if you don’t take care of yourself too. But Luke was right in terms of keeping your feud a secret, and you were still beating yourself up for it. Great thing you had snuck in a tiny bottle of vodka from Timothee’s hotel room so you could get even more drunk, just like Luke. Then again, if neither of you spoke tonight after such dropping of bad news, you’ve risked everything you and he developed these past weeks and not only would you let each other down, but your daughters would be affected much more. Thus like with Timothee, diplomacy is key.

Getting up on your feet and wrapping yourself back in your cardigan, you quietly joined Luke on his smoking session in the pool. Sitting down in utter silence was intense, not really knowing what to say yet after spitting all those insults. It’s as if anything you say or do is a risk you’re not willing to take. From his peripheral vision, Luke would’ve never expected you to join him especially since the news held up lifelong trauma. He is reunited with the dullness of your eyes, no longer as excited when you were watching those mini films and touring his man cave. The last time he encountered them was finalizing that divorce, and though telling you about Sierra the right thing, the consequences that went along weren’t things he wanted to witness. Fuck, thinking this way is worth a smoke, or two.

“Mind if I take a whiff?” You pitched in, mindlessly enjoying the strawberry aroma that went along. If it helped, it took one percent off your agony. Luke didn’t hesitate, handing it to you as he continued admiring the sky. All the endless amount of stars, but it was unlike his mind that only had limited questions for you. He was interrogated by you out of the blue, now why shouldn’t he receive closure too despite the risk of another argument? Might as well get these questions out before it’s too late, right?

Oh, it could go numerous ways.

As you puffed out smoke from your lungs, feeling its temporary and unhealthy relief, alarm shocks your ears by the words that left Luke’s mouth. “Why Timothee?”

Karma was a recurring guest in this pretend drama series that happens to be your lives, and having no response would be unfair on his part. But just as things were patching up, now another nuisance will knock it back down? Regardless, honesty remains to be the best policy.

“He was one of the first people I contacted after the divorce, and he’s been my rock ever since. Then these romantic feelings crept in this year, and we figured that we should cave in to it because it would be a waste if we didn’t. I can never deny that he made me happy. – Except,”

Now that was a preposition Luke didn’t expect for you to say. It automatically negates your statement, which made him somehow more interested of what you’re going to say next. “Except what?”

“Except that he cheated because he’s still in love with his ex, Maika.” Blunt yet heart-wrenching, you exhaled the sweet smoke from your chapped lips. All that red wine craved for control, getting access to your deepest thoughts that are only secrets within yourself. It eventually took over your broken state, and it managed to make you release another detail.

“We broke up, Luke.”

With that and also mentioning cheating, he sensed his nerves fuming with anger and tightening his fists that have balled up. He was already so glad at the chance of love and happiness you’ve received even if it wasn’t him anymore. Or was he? Nevertheless, cheating was beyond wrong and worse than Timmy confronting her true emotions. The saddest part was that either way, you were going to hurt even you tried to numb it out with his e-cig. He wouldn’t be too oblivious to observe that you kept inhaling and releasing smoke consistently because normally from the past decade, you would take breaks in between since the liquid inside would be too sweet and sensitive to your throat.

“Fucking shit!” He growled, almost splashing water when he pushed away from the pool.

“Luke, please. Not ag-”

“He cheated nonetheless, (Y/N). You don’t deserve that!” He sobbed, quickly crying after because he hated that you were in emotionally suffering, and that you shielded it from him. “How can you even tolerate it? All I wanted for you is to happiness, even if-”

“Even if what, Luke?” You attempted to comfort him, rubbing his back and massaging his bare thigh with your delicate hand. The latter served as an old habit of comfort when he went through hard times. You barely saw him cry, thus this made everything feel more raw and downcast. In fact, there was only one time you vividly remembered where he shamelessly did cry in front of you.

You leaving your old shared house in LA after signing those divorce papers.

Luke, as a whole, despised feeling weak and vulnerable, especially if it’s just you. You needed someone who was strong to handle hatred and prejudice, and he couldn’t fulfill that. Why do you think he let you go?

“Even if it wasn’t me who could give it to you.”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Giving him a light spank, you couldn’t believe this nonsense. How dare he said that about himself? “These past weeks, I got to witness a decade worth of fatherhood from you. I saw how you boosted Stella’s self-esteem before the premiere, and joke around with Becks back when we strolled around town. - Seeing them happy makes me happy.”

Tonight’s moonlight glowed over your visage, almost like a spotlight. Undoubtedly, Luke couldn’t restrict from looking away with this close up view of you. Your orbs were gleaming, losing its emotional redness whilst your face grew less puffy, as well as the tears from earlier have fully dried off. Your lips curved into a half grin rightwards, which was a feature of yours he remembered that meant that you were hopeful, content even. On your part, you were contented because his fatherly actions and mannerisms are manifested through Rebecca, who’s been a great daughter despite your absence. Since you’ve shared that, it was a paving way to the journey to the diminishing secrecy between you both.

Continuing on with spreading positivity, your hand moved to his face wherein now, it was you that would wipe his tears. Because you felt a lot stronger, you must pass it on. “Luke, you have matured so much compared to a decade ago. Younger us were a total mess. - Yes, you have your mistakes, but we are human after all. I do hope you credit yourself for all the joy you’ve given our girls, friends. Me included too.”

There was a sense of security that resparked something in Luke, especially when he fixated his eyes on yours. Fuck, you were so beautiful when you spoke and gave him a caring look. He knew he was still intoxicated alcohol-wise, but also towards you. He wants to hold back again, but his mouth said otherwise.

His numb heart was finally taking over after the terror reign of his reluctant mind.

“That is happiness, yes. - But not the one I’m referring to.”

((mood music))

He boldly bolted forward, topping your hand with his. Your foreheads were centimeters from touching, and your breath hitched. You were already too sober to know that this was actually happening, which it makes it scarier. As he left you hanging on his open sentence, you still had the nerve to ask,

“Then what kind of happiness is it?” You surprised yourself more by scooching closer to his side due to your intense interest, having your foreheads clash together accidentally. Or was it? The long glare he expressed with this blue eyes weakened you, feeling the familiar tension from nights before, only stronger now that both of your lips were merely touching.

“You h-haven’t answered me, Luke.”

You were driving him crazy, and those last words you said while having the desire in your eyes to kill the tension broke his sanity.

He needed you.

“Fuck it.” He cups your face and brings you in closer to shut you up, clashing in for a heated kiss. It alarmed you in an instant, not expecting such a response. Once Luke came to his senses on what he was stupidly [m6] doing rather than enjoy it selfishly, he pulled back in disbelief. You remained wide-eyed and frozen.

“Holy shit, (Y/N)! I’m so sorry, I-I shouldn’t have-”

But Luke, what was there to be sorry for? That moment was nothing but spectacular, and you were over being in denial.

You simply cut him off in a matter of seconds and pressed your lips back on his. Its familiarity softened you as it made you feel more comfortable.  From his thighs, your hands landed on his broad shoulders so you get to tilt your head in a different angle, relishing every bit of this intimacy.

He took you by the waist, placing you on his lap. You wasted no time to straddle his waist as your legs were entangled, not planning to pull away anytime. His hands roamed everywhere from your waist to your jaw, growling in appreciation in every passionate kiss. Your mouth allowed his tongue access and also felt his teeth bite your lower lip, just like how you always wanted.

It was like you were in your twenties again.

All this deprivation bottled up has been unleashed, and the desire has increased to it maximum. Because not all of it can be satisfied in the poolside.

You grew handsy, greedily going under his shirt to feel him. His structure was still so fit as you trailed your finger up his abdomen and chest. While his lips moved to work on your neck, suckling the life out of your flesh which will leave dark marks tomorrow, you were still whining for more when you grinded against him. Especially his crotch.

Luke got the message, craving just as much as you. “Bedroom?”

“Yes.” You said breathlessly, your eyes still closed due to the pleasure. But only did they open when he removed your from his lap and placed you on the pavement beside him. He already stood up, reaching for your hand. As you accepted it, he threaded his fingers around yours and made a run for it back to the house. The race filled with drunk adrenaline and enthusiasm made you rekindle all those romantic years, giggling with your giddy bones eager for what happens next. As you reached to the end of the hallway, where Luke’s room was located, he slightly unlocked his door. Creaking open, he surprisingly lifted you by the thighs. You gasped, still amazed at how a familiar action still felt like the first time. It wasn’t long that your lips were parted when a pair of alcohol dripping ones returned against yours, cutting you off completely. Your hands cupped his jaw while he kicked the door wide open then closed it with your body loudly.

He always loved taking you against the door, loving the compression of your body against his.

“Fuck,” You cussed with mixed emotions; pleasure and nervousness. “You’ll wake the girls.”

Still kissing in between, he chuckled, hiking you up higher against the wooden door. “Every room in this house is soundproof. Be as loud as you want, love.”

His raspy voice when he’s drunk was no exception into the prevention of the dampening of your panties. It just made it worse, especially when he called you that old pet name. But in a different sense this time. He changed this focal point, his lips brushing against your neck this time and suckling its tight flesh. You threw your head against the door, tightly gripping on his top and groaning. His hands weren’t stay put any longer. One of them hiked up under your cotton shirt, and upon feeling the clasps of your strapless brassiere, he unhooked it in one try. The material dropped the floor, and that same hand still under moved to your front torso. He squeezed your right breast, toying with your nipple to get you more riled up.

“God, just skip the foreplay, Luke.” You ordered, in need. It didn’t take 5 seconds for Luke to obey, carrying your body and laying it down gently like an angel.

Because fuck, you are one. Having you underneath him, writhing for his touch, he has longed for this for too long. He would have never known he’d get the chance again, but with your consent, it’s coming through. Yet at the same time, he wanted it to be worthwhile. Lord knows when this can happen again, or if it is ever happening again. Intoxication makes you do daring things, but this has to be the ultimate one.

He removed his shirt and kicked his slippers off, throwing it wherever on the floor. The recent pictures online of his figure weren’t lying, still being fit as ever. Your jaw dropped, and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. From the bed, you tried to unzip the tight denim shorts, squirming underneath. But Luke beat you to it, where his large hands on its denim edges and leaving your hips to lift up so he could pull them down. Your panties went along with it. Unhesitatingly, he swiped his index finger up and down on the outer flesh of your clit, smirking. “You are drenched, angel.”

“L-Luke,” You grew needy for more, your breaths shortening at every motion. But he stopped, annoying you even more. He took a whiff of your fluids, humming in arousal before licking it off.

“Are you sure you handle me, angel?” His voice deepened, meeting your eye with lust-driven hunger.

“Y-Yes, baby.” You exhaled, watching him unbutton those chino pants of his. His cock sprinted right out, hard and veiny. The tip was reddened, and crap you lost it. You shivered at the sight, wanting to get a taste. But before even making a move, Luke spread your bare legs wide open and already positioned himself in between. Although, he noticed your desire and completely hovered over you. His smirk never left, one hand opening a bedside drawer for a condom. He was struggling, and you giggled to catch him off guard.

“I’m on the pill, baby.” Cutting him off with a feisty kiss, pumping his cock steadily. He was feeling good, and he could’ve already come that way. But he gripped your hand off, placing them on his shoulder.

“Skip the foreplay, right?”

Rolling your eyes, you fired back. “What are you waiting for then? Another decade?”

Impatience you have, might as well shut you up. Swiftly, his cock pounded deep inside your soaking clit, starting off slow and finding that one weak spot. Your moans were stifled, but not out of pain. It was so your walls can readjust yourself at his size. The pleasure showered when you corrected your body angle, and only after did Luke go harder.

“Feeling good, baby?” The sheets slowly were going undone, pulling out as Luke continued his thrusts. Your back arched against the bed, your fingernails scratching his bare back when he devoured your neck with his lips once more.

“S-Shit yes, Luke!” You stammered, not holding back your verbal moans. You’ve craved this for too long to keep it down.

“I bet Timothée can’t fuck you the same way I can, right angel?” He gripped on your hips to steady your grinding.

“Fuck, fuck!” You were too dazed to answer, enjoying the friction while you held intently on the duvet. Only were you snapped out from it when there was a firm hold on your throat, catching you off guard.

“You haven’t answered my question, angel. Don’t make me ask again.” He orders with dominance, biting his lower lip.

“No, b-baby. He can’t fuck me the way you do.” You cried out breathlessly, the stimulation making you see the twinkling of stars. Luke linked his hands on yours on the bed, growling against your ear and biting your shoulder as the sexual bliss intensifies. He’s making his mark on you, which arouses you even more. Slamming intensely and faster, he has the heavy pedal on this moment. His rhythm never remained monotonous, and feeling his hot breath whimpering against the crook of your neck is exciting. You were panting heavily, and it didn’t take too long until the twinkling of stars were uncovered for your vision. Warm tears were also going down, but finally out of goodness.

“I’m so f-fucking close.” Luke groaned against your ear, the vibrations sending you shivers and more friction. His movements were turning sloppy, his orgasm nearing and going undone.

“Let go, baby. I’m so close too.” You cried out, trembling from your upcoming orgasm. After a few seconds, the warmth of Luke’s load has landed and you weren’t too far away to join him. His stamina was lost at the moment, resulting into crashing down beside you whilst you were both breathless from your highs. You were slowly getting knocked out and along with your thoughts.

But one thing was for sure.

Drunk sex is powerful.

[hoffkk]

On the sixth day of Ficmas, hoffkk gave to me...

Six Charms a Twinkling (An Andi Mack and Jonah Beck fic)

*******

Andi, Buffy, and Cyrus were celebrating their first day of Christmas break by eating lunch at their favorite diner, The Spoon.  The place was all decked out for the holidays with twinkly lights and garland inside and out. It was also decorated with snowflakes, lots of snowflakes, on the walls and tables and even hanging from the ceiling, making it look like some kind of snow globe wonderland.  Buffy and Cyrus were having a great time eating their taters, taking in the scenery, and talking holiday plans, but Buffy couldn't help notice that Andi seemed distracted.

"All right, Andi, we've been here for ten minutes, and you haven't even touched a baby tater yet. What gives?" Buffy asked as she dipped a tater-tot into her chocolate milkshake then popped it into her mouth.

"Yeah, I was gonna say something, but then I thought... eh, more for me!" Cyrus added, taking a bite of his own baby tater.

Andi hesitated a moment, not sure she wanted to reveal what was bothering her.  Then again, that's what friends were for right?  Listening to your problems and making you feel better about them.  So, she decided to do just that.

"Do you think it's weird that we haven't kissed yet?"  Andi blurted out.

"No."  Cyrus answered right away.  "After all, we are just friends, not to mention you're not really my type."

Buffy rolled her eyes and said knowingly, "I'm pretty sure she meant her and Jonah."

"Of course I meant me and Jonah."  Andi replied. "We are dating... granted it hasn't been all that long, but it hasn't been all that short either, which begs the question... should we be kissing?"

"Well... I... you see..." Cyrus tried but had no valuable insight to give her, so he simply noted, "I got nothing."

"Look, Andi," Buffy took over.  "I know that I don't exactly have a lot of experience in this department, but I don't think you and Jonah should be doing anything."

"What?" Andi queried.  "Why?"

"Just hear me out... "  Buffy began. "This whole idea of you and Jonah and what you 'should be doing' implies that there's some sort of schedule or set of rules you two are supposed to follow, but dating isn't like that."

"She's right." Cyrus agreed.  "Every couple is different and moves at their own pace. Iris and I were moving like a graceful gazelle until we broke up, and Buffy and Marty are obviously at more of a snail's pace."

"Marty and I are just friends, were not a couple." Buffy reminded him.  

"Eh," Cyrus waved off.  "tah-may-toh, tah-mah-to."

"Anyway," Buffy drew out forcefully, then changed the subject back to Andi.  "My point here is, the only thing that you and Jonah should be worrying about doing is what's right for you and Jonah.  So, if kissing feels right then do it.  If not, don't."  She finished, tossing another baby tater into her mouth.

"You're right." Andi nodded.  "But... what now?  Do I talk to him about what he wants?  Because I'm not sure I know how to start that conversation."

"I got it." Cyrus interjected.  "Just play it cool and throw him some subtle 'kiss me' hints.  Put the ball in his court."

"Or..."  Buffy stated vigorously.  "You could kiss him.  It is the 21st century after all.  Women can join the military, play on boys' basketball teams, and even make the first move in a relationship."

"Well, that definitely sounds good in theory, but in reality?  I don't know if I can be that brave."  Andi responded honestly.

"Just promise me you'll at least think about it."  Buffy requested for the feminist inside her.

"Deal." Andi answered with half a smile, finally beginning to feel better about the situation.  She was glad she had decided to confide in her friends.  It gave her a whole new perspective on things and made her feel somewhat lighter.

Just as she took a handful of tots for herself and began to watch Cyrus put on his daily "Tater Theatre," the jingle bells on the door chimed and Jonah walked in.  He headed straight for their table, smiling at Andi the whole way.

"Hey, guys." Jonah greeted in his usual chipper tone as he pulled out his chair and sat down.  He listened to their hellos as he shrugged out of his jacket, then, without saying another word, he pulled a present out of his pocket and set it in front of his girlfriend.

"What's this?" Andi wondered aloud, forgoing any pleasantries as she studied the small box that was placed next to her pile of baby taters.  It was square shaped and covered in candy cane wrapping paper with a shiny red bow on top.

"It's your Christmas present."  He smiled excitedly.  "Open it."

Andi grinned back, looking like, well... like a kid on Christmas.  She happily obliged him, carefully unwrapping the gift to save the paper and bow for later use.  They were something that definitely needed to be recycled into some kind of art so she could remember this moment.

Once the paper was removed, folded, and pushed aside, Andi focused on the crisp white box in front of her. Removing the lid, she found layers of red tissue paper.  Then, upon peeling back the first two layers, she laid her eyes on the most beautiful, golden bracelet she had ever seen.

Jonah's smile began to waver as he watched her stare quietly at her gift.  Feeling nervous, he blurted,  "I was going to make one by hand for you out of duct tape or strings and beads, but even with the explicit online tutorials, I messed them up... big time.  They just looked like something my dog chewed up.  So, I went with this instead.  I hope you like it."

Taking it out of the box, Andi held it up to get a better look.  She noticed it wasn't just a bracelet but a charm bracelet.  How sweet was he?  "I love it."  She told him sincerely as she slipped it on her wrist right then and there.

Jonah beamed with pride then moved closer and said, "I picked each charm special for you." He then began pointing to them one by one and explaining his choices. "There's a Frisbee because you love Frisbee, and that's how we officially met.  There's a spoon for your favorite hang out The Spoon.  The Chinese symbol for family represents your family heritage and how we celebrated the Chinese New Year together.  The scissors symbolize your love for crafting, and the smiley face is because you make everyone around you happy."

"And the letter J?"  She asked, noticing he left that one out.

He blushed as he glanced at the sixth and final charm then looked back to Andi and replied, "For me, Jonah... because you're my girlfriend, and you're important to me, and I want everyone to know."

Andi smiled wide at his words.  If she thought he was sweet before, now he was the sweetest thing since cotton candy. He put so much thought into this bracelet, it made her heart melt.  And the fact that he actually tried crafting for her? That was the icing on top of the gingerbread.  She wanted to tell him all of these thoughts and more but didn't know how.  Or did she?  Looking at her charms once more, twinkling in the cafe light, her grin grew impossibly bigger as an idea suddenly formed in her mind.  Deciding to act on it before she chickened out, Andi finally said, "Come with me."

"What?" Jonah questioned with a baffled look on his face as he watched Andi rise to her feet.  "Why?"

"It's my turn to give you something."  Andi retorted simply as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the front of the diner about a foot away from the door.

He went willingly, but, as soon as they stopped, he probed further, "Is there a reason we had to come all of the way over here?"

She took a deep breath then responded, "Yes... because now we are standing under the mistletoe." Pausing a moment to point at said hanging object, all leafy green with gold and red ribbon and snowflakes streaming out in any and all directions, Andi then continued.  "Which gives me the courage I need to do this."

Glancing quickly from Andi to the mistletoe and back, Jonah was still slightly confused until Andi put her free hand on his shoulder, closed the distance between them, and placed her lips tenderly on his.  Jonah's eyes went wide with shock for a quick second then fluttered closed as his free hand instinctively went to her waist.  The kiss didn't last long, but it definitely made an impact on both of them.

Pulling back, Andi looked into her boyfriend's bright green eyes and said, "Merry Christmas, Jonah."

"Merry Christmas, Andi." He beamed.

Back at the table, Buffy and Cyrus, who had been uncharacteristically silent for the past couple minutes, watched the whole scene play out across the room.

As she watched her friends smile their dopey smiles at each other, Buffy couldn't help but smile herself and say, "That's my girl."

"No," Cyrus interjected without a hint of hesitation.  "That is docious magocious."

"I hate that phrase."  Buffy responded instantly.

"Yes, but that doesn't make it any less true." He noted.

Buffy shrugged then let the conversation come to a close as Andi and Jonah returned to the table. They all acted as if a huge thing didn't just happen and went right back to watching Cyrus's tater theatre. Today's story was about Spuddy the Elf and his search for family and love.  His search took him on a long, confusing journey, but he ended up having the most docious magocious Christmas ever.  A story Andi thought sounded very familiar.