milkcartom

[milkcartom]

Girl Crush

Pairing: Peter x reader x MJ

Summary: Inspired by The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Word count: 1,843

———

Those eyes. Those gorgeous, brown eyes. Smitten would be an understatement, for you were completely and utterly intoxicated. You couldn't blame yourself, though. Those eyes held a lot more than they let on, and you wanted nothing more than to figure them out like a puzzle. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, you just couldn't stop staring. That was, until they caught your gaze.

Blinking away to train your eyes on the half empty lunch tray, you fight the urge to squeal as they approached. Peter and MJ walk over to where you sat, hand in hand, making it harder for you to refrain from rolling your eyes at the disgusting sight.

"Hey, Y/N." Peter chirps, causing you to snap your head up and throw a bright, fake smile.

"Hi." You manage to squeak out, clearing your throat right after.

"You're still coming over later, right?" Peter asks, and you nod almost instantly, "Would you mind if MJ came along?"

At his words, your heart almost plummeted from your chest. The mere thought of them being all lovey dovey in front of you while you did all the schoolwork wasn't how you imagined to spend your Friday night. You'd rather spend the whole day with Flash if it meant not having to witness your crush snuggle up to their significant other in your presence. But you still shake your head.

"N-no, I-I don't mind." You stammer, pressing your lips into thin-lipped smile, earning an even wider one from the couple.

"Great! See you later." Peter waves a hand goodbye before walking off, MJ not even giving you a second look.

You frown, heaving out a sigh as you rest your head on your palms and watched as their figures become smaller and smaller. You narrow your eyes at the blue sweater he wore, wondering where he got it and if you had something similar. It looked a bit loose on his frame, so you figured you’d borrow one of your dad’s sweaters to match. That’s what you were going to wear tonight.

But in the meantime, lunch was already over, and you grin cheekily at the next class you shared with Peter; Woodwork. You head straight to the classroom, no time to stop by your locker, and spot the boy hunched over the work table with an empty seat next to him. Normally, he’d be paired with his best friend, Ned. But you managed to snake your way in between and convince Ned to partner up with Betty, instead. For one project, at least. This meant you’d get to spend a few hours working elbow to elbow with Peter fucking Parker.

“Hey.” You greet, filling the stool and pulling the apron over your head.

Peter returns your smile, offering to tie the apron for you from behind, to which you accepted. As he did so, you could feel your heart race, his fingers brushing over your back every so often and you shudder.

“All good.” He says, handing you the pair of goggles on the desk.

“Thanks.” Is all you say as you take it and put it on, grateful for his genuine kindness despite your awkward demeanor.

Peter knew you admired him, a little bit more than acquaintances, because that’s how obvious you were. The first time you sat next to Peter during class, he mentioned Star Wars once and you stayed up all night watching the series so you’d have something to talk about the next day. When Peter wore those stupid science-punned shirts, you just had to get some. But of course, you’d hide them under a sweater or have them tucked under your skirt to look more pleasing to the eye. And when you found out he was in the decathlon team, lead by MJ, you worked your ass off for weeks just to be able to get in. You weren’t naturally smart, so this was possibly the hardest and stupidest thing you’ve done for a crush.

But these didn’t stop you from being friends, because Peter was nice about it. He didn’t treat you any different, and he never made it awkward between you two, to your liking. He didn’t mind the attention. In fact, he secretly loved it, but he couldn’t tell anyone that. Especially not MJ.

———

The hour of the day you were dreading came rolling in quicker than you thought. Before you knew it, you were laying flat on Peter’s bedroom floor with papers scattered all over as you tried to solve as much problems as you can. Peter, on the other hand, had MJ glued to his side, snickering about God knows what and you’d bet a hundred dollars Peter wasn’t even halfway with his task.

“Babe, stop.” MJ utters, shoving Peter to the side and you almost gag. At that moment, you hoped your eardrums collapsed or that your vision blurred.

“You good, Y/N?” Peter asks you, noticing the grimace on your face.

You nod, pretending that you were having a hard time with a topic, “Yeah, no, I’m fine. You- you almost done?”

Peter takes a look at his stack of papers and shakes his head, “Not really.” He chuckles, tearing his gaze away to look at his girlfriend, who was currently helping him solve some questions.

You roll your eyes and begin to type rather angrily on your scientific calculator. You couldn’t take one more look at the stolen kisses they tried to sneak when they thought you weren’t looking, or the small laughs they’d share as though you weren’t in the room. It made you sick to your stomach.

It was dreadful, to say the least. Until your ears perk up at the sound of your guardian angel texting you.

Flash

party at my house. wru y/n ?

These were one of the few moments you loved Flash. Sure, he was a dick, but he was also your friend. Sometimes, anyway. But right now, he was better company than the other two.

You spring up to your feet to type in a reply, catching the attention of the couple.

“Are you leaving?” Peter asks with a touch of excitement in his tone, and you had to hold back a scowl.

“Uh, yeah,” your nod, slipping off the blue sweater to reveal a tank top that paired nicely with your high-waisted bottoms, “Flash’s party,” you tell them as you gather your things. You didn’t want to leave them and have the image of them getting it on right after you walk out the door, but you also didn’t want to stay. So you choose the next best option, “You guys should come.”

“I don’t know—“

“Come on,” you tilt your head to the direction of the door and flash them a charming smile, “It’ll be fun.”

———

It was as though you could finally breathe again. The aroma of sweat and alcohol filled your lungs as you entered Flash’s house, greeting a few of the people you knew. You even got some stares and whispers sent your way when you walked in with Peter and MJ, to which you rolled your eyes in response.

A shrill squeal erupted from the crowd before a preppy blonde came running in your direction to throw her arms around you. You laugh and wrap your arms around your closest friend in Midtown High, Gwen Stacy.

“You came!” She beams, pulling away to hand you a red cup with her favorite drink.

“Of course,” you say, taking a sip, “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else tonight.”

“That bad, huh?” Gwen purses her lips, remembering how excited you were for tonight’s “study date”.

“Mhm. That’s why I’m here.”

“I don’t think Flash would be happy to see them,” she gestures to the two people behind you, cocking a brow before winking at you, “But at least you are.”

You slap her arm and conceal the growing smile on your lips, “Shut up, Gwen.”

“Come on, we’re playing truth or dare,” the blonde says, grabbing your hand. But before she leads you to the room upstairs, she calls out, “Peter! MJ! Follow me!”

Soon enough, the four of you step into a bedroom with seven other people inside, including Flash. You notice Peter stiffen at the sight of him, and the way Flash eyed the poor boy like bait, so you take a seat on his right to shove his head to the side.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N,” he deadpans, scooting over to make room for four more people in the circle, “I see you’ve brought guests.”

“What?” You raise your brows at him, “We were studying and I wanted a brain break.”

“Sure.” Flash scoffs at you with a smirk as Peter takes a seat next to you, followed by MJ and Gwen.

“You all know how truth or dare works,” Brad Davis announces, grabbing the attention of the small group as he sets down an empty beer bottle in the middle, “Whoever this points to should choose between truth or dare and—“

“We get it, let’s play!” One shouts, earning a glare from Brad before he spins the bottle.

This went on for about half an hour, boisterous laughs echoed and stupid dares were done. Secrets have been spilled and some even shared their own personal struggles in life. You began to loosen up, and so did Peter and MJ, until the tip of the bottle lands on you.

“Dare.” You sucked in a breath in anticipation of the task, an unsettling feeling pooling in your stomach at the way Brad smirked at you. You knew you’d either be scarred for life or be the talk of the school the following week, and you hoped for the latter.

“I dare you,” he taunted, his eyes darting from you to the boy on your right, “to kiss the most attractive person in the room.”

‘Oooh’s and ‘oh shit’s were exchanged as everyone around you except Peter, MJ, and Gwen laughed, already assuming who you’d choose.

“It’s just a dare, MJ.” One laughs, earning a middle finger from the girl herself.

“Pucker up, Parker.” Another teases, and you notice the state of shock Peter was in. He froze, looking at you with panic laced in his eyes as his cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

“Come on, Y/N, do it!”

You let out a shaky breath before leaning closer to Peter. Closer and closer until you pass him, locking eyes with a beautiful pair of brown ones. You hesitate for a split-second before closing the gap between you and MJ’s soft lips.

The whole room fell silent and everyone’s mouth fell agape. But you were too engrossed with the feel of her lips to notice. And to your absolute liking, MJ kisses back. You were about to move your lips until she pulls away, both your breathing becoming heavy. Peter’s eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, his chest heaving up and down as he stared at the two of you,

“What the fuck?”

[milkcartom]

Unlikely

Part 1

Agent!Tom Holland x Agent!Reader

Summary: After taking a break from the agency for a year, Tom Holland returns to test if he is still the best agent there is. But he didn’t expect to go back to square one where he is required to be partnered with the newbie, Y/N Y/L/N.

Warnings: a little violence

Disclaimer: the name of the organization is Anonymous but it is NOT related to the existing one (I made this fanfic before knowing about anonymous and couldn’t think of another name for it) so yea HAHA hope u don’t mind

—————

“I didn’t need one the last time I was here!” Tom argues in an aggravated tone, clenching his fist in an attempt to stop himself from pouncing on the man before him to get what he wanted. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be able to breathe the same air as him, or even breathe at all.

Anthony, the head of the whole organization, keeps his calm demeanor and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning back against his chair, “You know the rules, Holland. Once you come back, you gotta have a partner. Lucky for you, your partner isn’t too much to handle.”

“How long until I can go solo again?” Tom sighs in defeat, raking a hand through his curls and not giving a single fuck if his partner wasn’t much to handle or not.

“Twelve months.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tom scoffs and rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, “Make it six.”

“Nine.” Anthony says, holding in a groan at how big Tom’s ego was.

“Seven.”

“Nine months and that’s final.” Anthony states, clasping his hands over the table separating them.

“Seven months. Take it or leave it.” Tom says in a daring tone, laying his hands flat on the table and leaning forward, taunting his boss.

“Lea—“

“Remember, Mr. Pierce,” the brunet cuts him off, “I was the best in the whole team. If you lose me again, I’m never coming back to do your dirty work.” His lips curl into a sly smirk, knowing fully well that he was absolutely right.

Anthony glares at the man in front of him, unable to think of something to counter his words with. Tom was the best, and wants to make sure that he still is. He was the most intelligent, cunning, skilled, and distractingly charming agent Anthony has ever met. Nobody could quite live up to his level. And judging by Anthony’s response, Tom confirmed that he still is indeed the greatest.

“Seven months. Deal.”

———

“Your partner’s in Olivia’s, doing their very first mission.” Anthony says from the other side of Tom’s earpiece.

“The restaurant?” Tom asks, buttoning up the white polo with ease despite the sharp turns Jon would take to get there in time, “That’s why you made me dress up?” He asks, looking down at the snappy suit he was required to wear to match the ambiance of the location.

“Yes. Any complaints, Agent Holland?”

“None, Sir,” Tom assures him, “Just a little tight on the crotch, but I can pull it off. I’d look good in anything.”

Jon rolls his eyes from the driver’s seat, “We’re almost there.”

“All right,” Anthony begins after hearing Jon, “Remeber your alias, Agent.”

“Peter Scott,” he states, tossing the black tie to the side, thinking that it wouldn’t match the vibe he was going for, “and I have a reservation with Sam Jones in function room A.”

As if on cue, the vehicle comes to a stop. Both Tom and Jon step out of the car and make their way to the entrance of the restaurant, keeping their backs straight and chins up. As they entered, the large place was packed with customers undoubtedly richer than Anthony himself. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling while small candles lit the round tables.

Jon spoke with one of the waiters in almost the same suit as Tom, before they were ushered to function room A. Tom couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the judging states being sent his way, but he masked it with excitement for being back on the job.

Once they reached the room, the waiter left. But not without giving the pair of them suspicious looks. Tom brushed it off and anticipated to meet his partner. Sure, he dreaded the fact that he had to share his missions, but he was up for the challenge.

Jon slides the door open before stepping inside, revealing a round table in the middle with a man and woman on opposite sides. Tom followed, the aroma of expensive food and cheap perfume fanning his face. The two people avert their gaze to the men in suits, evidently surprised at the sudden entrance.

“Sam,” Jon says, clearing his throat, “It’s time to go.”

Tom eyed the male carefully, thinking about what he was going to do next or what his mission was about, automatically assuming that he was his partner. But his mind quickly changed once the man spoke with such confusion and fear.

“What the fuck is going on?”

You sigh from across the table, “I’m gonna ask you again, and this’ll be the last time I’ll be nice. Give me the case. Don’t waste my time.” You were supposed to end the mission half an hour ago. It was simple, get the case in exchange for money. But the man before you wanted a little more than just a meetup.

“Over my dead body.” The man spat, glaring at you and clutching the black briefcase close to his chest.

“Suit yourself.” You shrug, swiftly picking a porcelain plate, only to slam it hard against the side of his head.

The man fell limp, his face planting flat on the table as pieces of porcelain sprinkled on his sides. Smiling victoriously, you get up and dust off he invisible mess on your mauve velvet dress.

“How’d I do?” You ask Jon, him being one of your favorite trainers in the agency.

“Your client still has the case.” Jon says, gesturing at the unconscious body close to you.

“R-right,” you nod, making your way around to take the case from him, “Sorry.”

You were more excited than you’d like to admit, given that this was your first mission. After months of training, today was your day to prove that you were actually ready. You were too ecstatic that you forgot about the reason you were here, which was to get a case with deck of playing cards inside, where one contained a chip that had codes for something Anthony didn’t feel the need to say. You were skeptical, of course, but you were too scared to ask.

As you were prying the case out of the man’s grip, the same waiter from earlier barges in the room with a handgun. He had heard what had happened and did the only thing he thought was right.

“Nobody move! Hands in the air!” He shouts, his voice shaky, “Who-who are you guys?”

Jon raises his hands up, signaling Tom to do the same. But the brunet instinctively attaches his hand to his own gun, making the waiter aim his weapon at Tom.

“Let her handle this.” Jon tells him, and Tom sighs in defeat, mirroring his actions.

He keeps his gaze on you, the both of you making eye contact for a split second. You do a double take, mesmerized at how handsome he was before you wonder why he was there and why he looked awfully familiar. But you shake your head out of the trance to focus on the waiter, your grip on the bread knife tightening, waiting for the best time to strike.

“I said hands in the air, lady!” He practically screams, but you still didn’t budge. You waited for one of his hands to be free.

Right when he brings one hand to wipe the sweat off his face, you use all your arm strength to throw the knife and perfectly aim it at his hand, the silver utensil stabbing his palm. Jon was quick to slide the door shut to muffle the waiter’s shrieks. He drops the gun to the floor as you strut towards him to pick it up and gently tuck it inside your purse. You kneel down in front of him, setting the briefcase next to you, before you pull out a device that wipes people’s memories.

“So sorry about your hand,” you say in a fake caring tone, pointing the silver device on his face and clicking the button. A white light flashes for a solid second and you close your eyes at how bright it was, before placing it back inside your purse. The man looks dazed and he stares at you with a blank expression as you say, “You were stabbed by that man on the table. Take him to the cops when he wakes up. My two colleagues and I were never here.”

He repeats your words, his eyes still on yours, and you smirk. You’ve always wanted to do this part of the mission, mostly because it made you feel like a vampire. You stand up, taking the the case in your hands and walk over to the two men, your smile wider than you’d like it to be.

Tom looks at you like he was trying to figure you out, crossing his arms over his chest. He was stunned but did his best to hide it. You didn’t have to stab the waiter, but you did. You didn’t have to break a plate over his head, but you did.

“Shall we go?” You ask in a giddy tone, handing the briefcase to Jon.

Jon nods once, containing the proud smile wanting to form on his face. There were a few things he’d correct you on, like your form and how you handled the situation, but for now, he lets you celebrate.

The three agents soon leave the restaurant without anyone else being suspicious, confidence beaming out of one of you. Once all of you were safe inside the vehicle, you anticipated a simple praise from Jon, but he told you something you didn’t quite expect.

“This is Tom Holland, by the way,” he says, beginning to drive to the secluded compound, “Your partner.”

“My what?”

“He’s your—“

“Why?” You cut him off, “No offense,” you say to the boy next to you, “But why?”

“It’s part of the contract, Agent Y/L/N. If you’ve read it.” Jon says and Tom snickers.

You ignore him, “But it said that I’ll only have a partner after a year.”

“You’re required to have a partner for a year until you go solo.”

“But I already went solo! I can handle it!” You argue and Tom couldn’t help but compare himself to you.

“That’s because there were no available agents until now,” Jon then instructs, “Now, you two, get to know each other.”

You sigh in defeat and adjust your position to face Tom, crossing your leg over the other as you did so, “Y/N Y/L/N, twenty-one years old, graduated from- hey,” you stop midsentence, your mind finally recognizing him, “Oh my god, you’re the best agent everyone’s been talking about.”

“That’s me.” Tom nods and you turn your head to lean closer to Jon.

“Do you really not trust me enough that you partnered me with the best-freaking-agent?"

Jon chuckles breathily, "Like I said, he's the only one available."

"Well," Tom interjects, "the feeling's mutual. You don't want me, and I don't want you.”