#a very private party for peter

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven | three

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You and Joel get to know each other better and the two of you share a private moment out behind the barn under the stars; an unexpected guest shows up to the party; Tommy gives Joel a second and final warning about you.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) MENTIONS AND IMPLICATIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE/ABUSE. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. alcohol consumption, mutual pining and yearning, Joel sings to reader a bit (that is its own warning), soft Joel, overprotective Joel, and a slight hint of jealous Joel. Tommy seems like kind of an asshole but he’s just trying to look out for his brother, okay?

word count 6.6k

About an hour later, after tossing back about three or four bottles of Seth’s crappy beer, you’d started feeling a lot livelier and a lot more like yourself. It was a glass of his delicious, oak-barrel aged whiskey that you had wanted more than anything, but with Esther over at the bar openly flirting up a storm with Joel Miller, you pushed down the desire for scotch and settled for the bitter lager instead.

It tasted awful, but it did the job well enough. The best part was that the bottles of beer were all readily available in coolers all around the barn, and you didn’t need to go up to the bar to get one. 

The last thing you’d wanted was to find out what was going on between Esther and Joel.

“And the next thing you know, poor John is being chased all around the chicken coop by a bunch of broody hens!” Martha finishes her story, throwing her hands up in the air. “God, I wish I would’ve had a camcorder in hand. It was the funniest thing I ever did see in almost two damn decades.”

Everyone sitting around the table bursts into a fit of loud, hearty laughter.

“Oh okay, so then that would probably explain why there weren’t many eggs in stock at the market the other morning,” you tease, only fueling the commotion.

John glares at you, and you shrug innocently, fighting back another laugh. Six foot two with big, broad shoulders and arms, you found it both very difficult and very amusing to picture the bulky blond man being chased around by a flock of pissed off chickens.

“I’d really like to see any of you guys try and take a broody hen’s eggs away from her with ease!” John huffs out before taking a gulp of his beer. He’s red in the face, and it’s hard to tell if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment. “Assholes.”

Martha leans over, whispering, “See? I told you it would make him mad.”

You giggle, lightly shaking your head at her. “Talk about ruffling some feathers, huh?”

She snorts into her plate of potatoes, jabbing her elbow into your side. “Let’s stop before he really gets all riled up, or else we’re going to get an earful.”

“Oh come on, John. Lighten up,” you grin over at him from across the table. “I know what’ll make you feel better. You guys want to hear a really, and I mean really embarrassing story?” You pause for a second or two, just long enough for everyone to nod eagerly. “Let me tell you about what Stella did to me the other day in her stall when I tried to take her temperature, it was absolutely awful. Okay, so there I am about to—”

“Sorry to interrupt you folks, but do you all mind if we steal this sweet little lady here for just a minute or two?” The sound of Tommy Miller’s smooth, deep voice causes you to stop abruptly mid-sentence. You glance over your shoulder only to see him approaching the table. He’s closely followed by Maria, who had traded her usual patrol duty attire for a light blue denim dress that sat off of her shoulders, the flowing skirt falling just above knees. Her white cowboy hat matches her husband’s.

“Aw c’mon, Miller! She was just about to tell us a story!” Peter, Martha’s husband, exclaims as he drapes his arm around his wife’s shoulders

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I promise we won’t keep her too long, alright?”

You immediately notice that he’s holding a drink in each hand, each glass filled almost to the rim with a bold, rich amber liquor over ice. The only reason that you’d immediately known one of the two drinks was meant for you was because Maria had just discovered that she was pregnant. It was still a secret that very few people knew about, but the minute she confirmed it with a pregnancy test earlier that month, she’d come running to your door to tell you. It’s the reason she’s been avoiding booze all evening—she’s been sipping on lemonade all night instead. 

“Excuse me,” you nod politely to the group of friends you’d been sitting with and stand up from the table. You follow Tommy and Maria over to a far corner of the barn where the three of you could talk somewhat privately. Accepting the glass from Tommy, you offer him a grateful smile, pleased that you’d gotten the drink you had wanted after all. “Thank you.”

“‘Course.” He nods and tips the brim of his cowboy hat to you in his typical, gentleman-like manner. He’d never lost an ounce of those Texas manners.

Maria loops her arm through his. “Well, it looks like tonight was a real success,” she states as she glances around the room, her pride written clearly across her face. “Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Absolutely,” you agree, enthusiastically. You smile again and lift your glass to the couple as you toast, “Another year and another success. Here’s to many, many more to come.”

“Cheers to that, little lady,” Tommy grins and lifts up his glass, clinking the rim of it to yours before taking a generous drink, nearly draining it in one single gulp. “Thanks for stoppin’ by earlier and helpin’ set the place up, by the way. We really appreciate it.”

You wave your free hand at him. “Oh, no need to thank me at all. You already know that I was more than happy to help out,” you tell him as you take a careful sip of whiskey. The hard liquor burns its way down your throat in the sweetest way. Taking another sip, you turn to look at Maria, unable to help yourself from admiring her gorgeous, natural glow. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Maria replies with a smile, placing her free hand over her flat stomach. At only a few weeks along, she still had quite a long way to go before she began to show. “Just a little bit of morning sickness here and there, but so far, so good.” She pauses and leans her body into Tommy’s side. “I never thought I’d be having a baby in my forties,” she muses with a laugh. “I thought that train had left the station a long time ago. But I guess life had something else planned for me.”

“For us,” Tommy corrects, playfully nudging her.

“For us,” Maria echoes, giving him a loving kiss on his cheek. “Luke calls it a geriatric pregnancy. He told me I’m automatically considered high risk, due to my age and all. But we’re hoping it’ll go smoothly.”

You detect the genuine concern behind her optimistic smile and reach out, gently touching her arm. “I’m sure it will all turn out fine. You just have to make sure that you’re taking good care of yourself and getting plenty of rest.” You point a finger at her, wagging it back and forth. “So, that means no more patrol duties for you, Mrs. Miller.”

“Oh I know,” she laughs again. “I’m on light work duties starting next week and in a few months, it’ll be strict bed rest for me. At least, that’s what Luke recommended, but I’m hoping to stay on my feet for a little bit longer than that.” She tilts her head curiously to the side as she looks at you. “Speaking of Luke, is he around? We haven’t seen him at all tonight.”

Throat bobbing, you grip your glass tightly in your hand. The corners of your mouth threaten to turn downward, but you manage to hold your smile well enough.

At this point, you had pretty much lost track of the number times you’d been asked about Luke.

Where is he? Why isn’t he here with you? Do you think there’s a chance he’ll show up tonight? Can’t you go home and convince him to join us? 

You just about loathed the way he was considered to be a hero in Jackson. The way that every single person in the community adored the man to pieces made you sick to your stomach—Luke was anything but a hero, but nobody knew that. Not a single soul knew the real him, the monster that emerged behind closed doors, the terrible things he did when no one was around.

There had been an occasion or two where you had considered going to Tommy and Maria about it, to tell them all about the horrors that went on within the walls of your home. But even when they’d point out a bruise on your arm or a scrape on your cheek, you would lose the courage and chalk it up to a clumsy accident or injuries sustained while on the job—hell, just a few months ago, you’d blamed an injured shoulder on Ranger, telling Tommy that his beloved stallion had accidentally kicked you during one of your routine examinations. You wanted nothing more than to tell him that it hadn’t been his horse who put you in a sling for three weeks, it had been Luke. But how the hell could you do that?

Luke is the commune’s physician. The commune’s only physician. 

Besides the two older nurses who worked in the clinic along with him, he was the only medically trained professional who knew how to treat severe injuries, perform minor surgeries, and diagnose illnesses—as much as you hated to admit it, Jackson needed him. If you told Tommy and Maria about everything that he’d done to you over the last two years, then you’d risk getting Luke locked up in the town jail, or possibly even thrown out and exiled from the settlement. What would that mean for the people in the community who fell ill or became injured and needed a doctor?

Maybe he wasn’t a hero to you, but to everybody else, he was. People could die without him and his medical knowledge. Hell, Maria would need Luke now more than ever now that she was pregnant.

For as much as you wanted to tell them the truth about him, you just couldn’t find the guts to do it, not when the decision would impact every single person in Jackson.It would be too selfish.

So, you kept quiet and continued to let it happen because what else could you do? 

Nothing. 

There wasn’t a goddamn thing you could do about it.

Tommy says your name, snapping you back out of your thoughts. “Hey, you alright?” he asks you as he gingerly touches your shoulder. “You zoned out on us for a minute there.”

You blink. “Yeah sorry, I’m alright. Um, Luke decided to stay at home and get some rest,” you reply as you shift awkwardly from boot to boot, feeling a sudden heat flood your face. “He’s been working a lot of hours at the clinic and making house calls as well, so he’s just been really tired, you know?”

“Oh, well that’s too bad,” Maria frowns. “Tommy and I were hoping we could say this to the both of you together, but I suppose you’ll have to give him the message on our behalf when you get home to him later tonight.”

You shoot her a puzzled look. “What is it?”

“We know we don’t say this as often as we should, but you and Luke do so much for us. So much for Jackson,” Tommy says, sincere gratitude dripping from his tone. “We’re damn lucky to have the two of you here. Me and Maria, and everyone in this community, we’re all deeply indebted to both of you for all you do.”

You stare at him. “Everyone here works very hard, Tommy—”

“Now, I ain’t saying they don’t,” he interrupts you by holding up his hand. “But let’s be honest here. Luke, he takes good care of all of our people, you take good care of all of our horses—people and horses, that’s what keeps this place runnin’ like a well oiled machine and you know it just as well as we do. Without the both of you lookin’ after our two most important resources, I ain’t all too sure where the hell this place would be.”

Maria nods in agreement with her husband and squeezes his arm. “Oh, don’t be so modest,” she remarks upon seeing the bewildered expression on your face. “He’s right. And we need you to know how much we appreciate everything the two of you do for this community.”

Tommy grins, raising his glass in a toast. “To you and Luke.”

Stomach churning, you flash them your very best smile and lift your own glass, clinking it against his and then to Maria’s bottle of lemonade. “Well, I will certainly give him the kind message when I get home tonight. Thank you.” You take a quick sip of your drink, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. The room feels hot, like it had been lit on fire and you were standing too close to the flames. “It’s starting to feel a bit warm in here. I’m going to go outside for a minute to get some fresh air. Excuse me.”

Before either of them can utter another word, you spin around on your heel and hastily make your way across the barn towards the exit, being careful not to bump into the dancing couples on the dance floor along the way. Even as you hurried out, you’d caught sight of Ellie sitting with Dina at one of the tables, digging into her plate full of barbecue. Dina had leaned over and whispered something into Ellie’s ear and Ellie let out a loud, obnoxious cackle through a mouthful of food.

Despite the circumstances, you can’t help but smile—an actual, genuine smile this time around.

At least Ellie seemed to be having a good time.

That’s more than enough for you.

Joel glimpses over Esther’s shoulder. 

His eyebrows pull together in a mixture of confusion and concern as he watches you practically run out of the barn alone with a drink clutched in your hand and a strange expression on your face—you appear to be upset over something.

The blonde in front of him had been going on and on about where she was from, although he hadn’t quite been listening to her the entire time she had been talking—or at all. 

Had Esther said Vermont? Or maybe it had been Virginia?

Joel wasn’t all too sure, but he didn’t care enough to ask her to clarify. Besides, his thoughts were far too busy preoccupied with someone else. Someone he needed to make sure was alright.

“Listen Esther, s’been real nice talkin’ to you,” he states as he offers the woman the most polite smile he can possibly muster up for her. He tries to ignore the awkward way she’d pouted her lips at him, a sad, disappointed look flashing in her eyes. “But I’ve gotta go and take care of somethin’ for a minute. Will you excuse me?”

He doesn’t even give Esther the chance to respond. Setting his drink down on the counter, he gives her a quick nod goodbye and steps around her. He starts towards the barn’s exit, but before leaving, he tosses a quick glance in Ellie’s direction just to make sure she’s still doing okay without him. He had been keeping a close and watchful eye on her from the bar the entire time. After a while, it soon became apparent to Joel that Ellie had been doing just fine. She’s scarfing down another heaping helping of bison and potatoes, grinning from ear to ear as she talks with Dina, who seems to be enjoying her company despite her poor table manners.

Joel steps outside into the night and he takes a look around, searching for you among the small, scattered groups of people who stood mingling with one another. Gossiping women, drunk and rowdy patrolmen, children running around—he jumps slightly as a giggling little redheaded girl who can’t be older than five circles around his legs with a curly haired boy who is about the same age chasing after her. He lightly shoos them away from him and they take off running in another direction.

He scans his surroundings once more.

You’re nowhere to be found.

Humming, Joel glances down.

He notices a long trail of footprints left behind by what had to be a pair of cowboy boots, similar to the ones you’d been wearing. The strange way in which they veered off in a random direction away from the rest of the crowd tips him off almost a bit too easily—he knows they belong to you. Without giving it a second thought, he starts to follow your tracks and they lead him all the way around to the back of the barn.

That’s where Joel finds you, leaning against the wooden paddock fence. You’re back is to him, your head tilted upwards. Your gaze seems to be lost somewhere up in the velvet, purple night sky and you’re swaying along to the pretty country melody that, even outside, can still be heard coming from inside the barn.

Turn around, a sound voice in the back of his mind tries to reason with him. Go go back inside.

He ignores it, his legs moving forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you.

The sound of his heavy boots crunching on the rocks in the dirt as he draws closer to you causes you to jump. Whirling around, you gasp and your free hand flies to your chest.

“M’sorry,” Joel quickly apologizes, holding up both his hands to show you he’s not a threat. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Joel?” You’re surprised to see him.  “What are you doing out here?”

The area out behind the barn is just as dark as it is secluded, however, the moon is full, big, and bright, its silvery glow illuminating each and every single one of your features in such a beautiful way that it makes his throat go dry, just like it had earlier that evening when he’d first seen you in that dress.

“Well ain’t that funny. I was actually just ‘bout to ask you the same exact question, darlin’.” He falls into step beside you, leaning back against the fence. “What are you doin’ out here all by your lonesome?”

“Oh, I just needed some fresh air, that’s all,” you reply with a small, light shrug of your shoulders. You turn back around, leaning your forearms on top of the wooden fence, both hands wrapped firmly around your glass of whiskey. You’re standing so close to Joel that your shoulder touches his, though neither of you make a move to put space in between your bodies. “What’s your excuse?”

“Needed a breather from Esther,” he confesses. 

It was partially the truth. 

He couldn’t tell you he’d really come outside to check on you.

“What do you mean? Didn’t you like her?”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s nice and all,” Joel says, letting out a chuckle. He shakes his head. “She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight, y’know?” He pauses for just a brief second and crosses his arms over his chest, his sudden change in position causing his shoulder to press even closer against your own. “Tommy mentioned her to me when we were havin’ lunch together yesterday. Said he’d be willin’ to set us up, but I didn’t think his dumbass would actually follow through with it.”

Confused, you shoot him a strange look.

“I’d told him I wasn’t interested in meetin’ her, but Tommy’s always had a real habit of not listenin’ to me,” he remarks, shaking his head once again.

The question falls from your lips before you can even think about trying to stop it. “Why aren’t you interested in her?” you blurt. Awkwardly, you clear your throat and add in a nonchalant tone, “Esther’s gorgeous, Joel. Most guys around here would jump at the chance to be with her.”

“S’like I told you. She just ain’t the kind of company I’m lookin’ for tonight.”

“So then, what kind of company are you looking for?”

Joel hesitates, then answers honestly. “Yours.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, your heart skipping a nervous beat.

He tests the waters. “That alright to say?”

“Mhm,” is all you’re able to utter.

Fighting to take a steady, even breath, you clutch at your glass even harder. 

“Y’know, when I was on my way out here, I saw Ellie and Dina still sittin’ together,” Joel finally says after a minute or two, breaking the silence. “She honestly seems to be havin’ a real good time with her.” He nudges your shoulder with his own, a hint of amusement in his voice as he turns to you and asks, “Now tell me why I’ve got this strange little feelin’ that you had somethin’ to do with that?”

Your immediate expression of guilt prompts his grin. 

You’d been caught red handed.

“Okay, so I may or may not have talked to Dina earlier today while we were setting up the barn for the party. I asked if she could do me a favor and at least try and talk to Ellie tonight,” you admit, sheepishly. “I told her about how much Ellie reminds me of her, and how I thought they would get along.” You feel his dark eyes fix themselves intently on you and the heat creeps to your cheeks as you continue to explain yourself to him. It’s only just now occurred to you that perhaps you should have ran the idea by Joel—he’s her guardian and the last thing you want to do is cross his boundaries. “It took a little convincing, but she agreed. Dina can still be quite shy sometimes, but she’s a really good girl, Joel. I promise.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you, letting his arms fall down to his sides. “Really? You did that?”

“Yeah. I did.” Anxiously, you take a long sip of liquor before adding, “I hope that’s okay.”

“‘Course it is, darlin’. I really appreciate you doin’ that for Ellie.” Joel’s gaze softens and meets yours with genuine sincerity. “I appreciate everythin’ that you’ve done for her. It means a lot to me. More than I can probably even explain.”

“I can tell how important she is to you.”

Joel nods. “Ellie’s the most important thing in the world to me.” He stops, exhaling a long, heavy sigh. “She’s been through a whole lot—a hell of a lot more than anyone her age should have to go through.” Once again, he pauses momentarily, trying to keep his emotions in check. He swallows harshly and subconsciously leans closer towards you without realizing it. “Ellie, she ain’t my blood, but she’s my daughter. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t take care of her. I thought that I didn’t have what it takes to protect her.”

“And what about now?”

“Now that we’re here, I feel real different ‘bout it all. I finally feel like I can keep Ellie safe, y’know? Give her the life she deserves,” Joel states, sounding a bit relieved, almost like he’s only just now made the realization that things are different now—it’s not like it was while they’d been out on the road. Each day isn’t a fight for survival, a game of trying to stay alive long enough just to see the next. Sleeping in the dirt, watching her go hungry, seeing her have to wear the same dirty clothes for weeks at a time, those were all now things of the past.

Pulling yourself back from the fence, you glance up at him with a curious expression. 

“Ellie hasn’t told me all that much about what she’s gone through—about what either of you have gone through.” You catch sight of the worry that flashes in his eyes and reassure him, “And I don’t plan on asking because it isn’t any of my business. But in the short time I’ve gotten to know Ellie, I’ve already seen it in her eyes, Joel. It’s all there.”

“What’s there?”

“Every bad thing that’s ever happened to her.”

Joel hangs his head. “Jesus.”

And just like that, he somehow feels like a fucking failure all over again.

“I know that you’re worried about her, Joel. I don’t blame you, but you’re doing all that you can do,” you remind him, the kindness in your voice bringing him the warmth and comfort he’s been needing for far too long. “You’re here in the community now and she’s safe. That’s what matters—all the rest is going to fall right into place soon enough. Just give her a bit of time and don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

Joel sighs. “I just want what’s best for her, y’know? Just like any normal parent would want for their kid.”

“And you are doing the best that you can, just like any normal parent would.” You reach out, gently placing your hand on his bare forearm, your thumb brushing his warm skin. Your mere touch sends a tingle up his spine, and he can’t help but wonder if the connection had done the same for you. “It’s easy to see how much you care about her. How much you love her.”

“I do love her,” he murmurs. It feels odd, almost foreign for him to say it out loud. Of course he loves Ellie, and although he’s fairly certain she knew that and she loved him too, those three specific words had never been exchanged between them, and he had a hunch they never would be. “All I want is to do right by her. After everythin’ she’s been through—I just want her to finally be happy.”

“That says a lot about the kind of man you are.”

Biting back a scoff, Joel shakes his head. He doesn’t want you thinking he’s a good person—you’d be horrified if you knew about all the blood that stained his hands, about all of the things he’d done in the last two decades to survive. He’d stolen, he’d destroyed, he’d murdered. He’d lied.

He was not a good man. 

Your hand drops away from his arm, a lot sooner than either of you would have liked.

“So, what’s your story?” he asks, deciding to switch the focus of the conversation onto you. “How’d you end up in good ol’ Jackson, Wyoming?” 

“You take another sip of your drink, which is now completely watered down by the melted ice in your glass. “Well, like I told you, I grew up in New Mexico on a horse ranch. It was me, my parents, and my little brother,” you start to explain. “After the outbreak happened, me and my family ended up in the Albuquerque QZ. We were there for quite some time, until there was a breach at one of the gates and the zone was overrun with infected.” You pause briefly as the memories of that night come flooding back. By now, you’ve repressed them enough that they don’t bring you to your knees the way they used to when you had been younger. “Me and my dad made it out alive, but my mom and my brother didn’t.”

Joel frowns. “Shit. M’real sorry, darlin’. I shouldn’t have asked—”

“It’s okay,” you assure him with a tiny nod. “After me and my dad made it out of the zone, we found this group of people who were heading east, trying to get to Boston. It wasn’t long before everyone started to get picked off one by one—by infected, raiders, and even slavers. Somehow, me and my dad survived all that, but we found ourselves alone again. We were starving, had no shelter, and winter was just around the corner. We honestly didn’t know what we were going to do, and even though neither of us ever said it to each other, we were both so sure we were going to die. But then Tommy and his patrol group came across us one night. Once we proved that neither of us were infected, he brought us in.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Joel states. He never would have even guessed.

You just seemed so well put together.

“Haven’t we all?” You let out a humorless laugh.

A silence falls like a curtain over both of you, but it’s comfortable.

Tranquil. 

Although it had been a warmer night, it was now much later into the evening, and a chilly breeze whips its way through the settlement, whisking its cool and crisp fingers through your hair. It causes the white daisy you’d been wearing to fall, and the flower flutters to the ground, landing right in between Joel’s boots. Without giving it a second thought, he reaches down and picks it up, being careful as he gingerly dusts the dirt off of the delicate petals. He turns to you, tucking the flower back behind your ear. As his hand falls away from you, his index finger accidentally grazes the soft skin of your cheek, and every part of him floods with the burning desire to feel more of you.

“M’sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbles sheepishly.

“It’s quite alright,” you say—and you mean it. You can’t even remember the last time someone’s touch set you on fire like this. You’d been feeling cold and empty and numb for so long, and while all of the things that Joel’s making you feel had become almost foreign to you, they’re starting to reignite that spark of life inside of you that you thought you’d lost a long time ago.

From the inside of the barn, you and Joel hear the band begin to play their cover of Can’t Help Falling in Love. 

“Elvis, huh?” Joel muses with a hum. He sounds impressed.

You’re not sure if all the alcohol you’d been consuming throughout the evening has only now just decided to kick into full gear in your system or whether you really do just lack any kind of common sense, but you find yourself looking up at him shyly through your eyelashes. “How about another dance?”

His lips part slightly in surprise. “To this song?”

Every inch of your skin burns hot with embarrassment and your fingers curl tighter around your glass. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that I really love to dance,” you sputter out nervously, wishing you had kept your mouth shut. You only dig yourself further into the hole as you continue to ramble. “Luke doesn’t like to dance. He never wants to dance with me—”

That’s all Joel had needed to hear.

He reaches for your glass, prying it out of your grasp. He sets it down on top of the fence and holds his hand out to you. “I’ll dance with you, darlin’.”

Looking up at him in surprise, you accept and place your hand in his. His other hand finds your waist and the two of you begin swaying along to the music—a smile that could light up the entire town breaks out across your face. 

Joel didn’t know Luke, but he couldn’t fathom how the man you were married to wouldn’t do just about anything to see that smile.

“Wait, I thought you couldn’t dance,” you tease, noticing that he’s leading you.

Flashing you a cocky grin, he shrugs. “Guess the kid was right. I ain’t so bad for fifty six with creakin’ knees.”

Remembering Ellie’s words from earlier, you throw your head back and laugh.

His stomach turns, twisting in a tangle of desire and nerves.

You’re married.

But that does nothing to stop the want, the need. 

For either of you.

Being in his arms, it’s wrong.

It’s more than an innocent dance—it’s the beginning of something that’s bound to lead to nothing but trouble and you both know it.

Joel continues to lead you and begins singing along to the familiar lyrics, quietly, but just loud enough for you to hear the sultry richness of his voice. “Like a river flows, surely to the sea,” he sings, subconsciously giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Darlin’ so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

Impressed, you raise an eyebrow at him. “You’ve got a nice voice, Joel.”

“Y’think so?”

You nod. “I do. What, were you a singer in your first life or something?”

“Close.”

“Really? What did you do?”

“I was a contractor,” Joel replies, grinning as he elicits another sweet laugh from you. “Owned my own construction business with Tommy. I did enjoy singin’ though—and playin’ the guitar too. But it was a hobby more than anythin’ since I don’t think music would’ve paid the bills.”

You smile up at him. “Oh, well now you’re going to have to play the guitar for me sometime. Maybe even treat me to a whole song?”

“I still owe Ellie a song,” he remembers, shaking his head. “But I don’t have a guitar, so it gets me out of it.”

“Well then, we’re going to have to find you one and when we do, you’ll have to play something for us,” you tell him. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Joel agrees without thinking. He starts singing along to the lyrics again. “Take my hand, take my whole life too—” 

“But I can’t help falling in love with you.” You try not to laugh again at the shock on his face as you finished the lyric for him.

“Hey now, you’ve got a real nice voice yourself, darlin’.”

Darlin’. 

You shouldn’t let him call you that.

Out of respect for your husband, you should tell him it’s not okay. None of this is okay.

But it is okay. 

“Oh, now you’re just trying to flatter me, Miller,” you accuse him, playfully. 

The song ends and neither of you make a move to let go of one another.

Joel’s eyes fall to your pretty, plush lips and it takes every ounce of strength he has inside of him not to lean down and press his own lips against them.

Finally, he forces himself to let you go and takes a step backward, clearing his throat. “I should, uh—I should go and find Ellie so I can get her home. S’gettin’ kinda late.”

You nod, your heart slamming painfully against your sternum. “Of course,” you say, slightly breathless. “I’ll come along with you so I can say goodnight to her.”

As the two of you make your way around the barn and back towards the entrance, Joel sees a tall, slender man with short dark hair approaching. He’d called out your name and something inside Joel’s mind just clicks together—he knows exactly who the man is before you’ve even had a chance to open your mouth and say his name.

“Luke?” Stopping abruptly in your tracks, you stiffen and squeak out his name. “What—what are you doing here?”

“There you are, honey.” He comes up to you and immediately takes your arm, pulling you from Joel’s side and over to his. “Tommy told me you might be out here. I was just coming to look for you.”

It takes thirty seconds for Joel to size him up. Luke’s younger than himself, definitely closer in age to Tommy—somewhere around his mid to late forties. He’s a lot more clean cut than most of the other rugged men in the commune with his short, neatly kept dark hair and a clean shaven face. Though he’s on the thinner side, he’s in decent shape, but Joel’s wider, broader and far, far more intimidating.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again.

“Now, is that really how a loving wife should greet her husband?” Luke laughs, pulling you even closer into his side. 

Joel isn’t all too fond of the way he’s holding you. 

He’s rough, harsh.

“I decided to come and check it out. See what all the fuss is about,” Luke says. He glances at Joel, his green eyes giving him a once over—sizing him up, just like Joel had done to him. “Don’t be rude, honey. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend here?”

You speak softly, almost too softly.

“Luke, this is Joel Miller.”

“Ah. You’re Tommy’s brother, right?”

Joel tries not to sound too curt, but fails. “That’s right.”

“Joel, this is Luke.” You can’t even look him in the eye as you introduce your spouse. “He’s my husband.”

Luke extends a courteous hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Joel.” His other hand finds and takes yours. “I do hope that my wife here hasn’t been bothering you tonight. She can be quite the little chatterbox. Makes me wish she came with a mute button sometimes.”

Joel’s dark eyes briefly flit to Luke’s hand holding yours, taking note of the way he’s gripping it so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. Between that and the comment he’d just made about you, Joel had every fucking desire to connect his fist to the side of Luke’s face.

“Luke, please,” you whisper, throwing him a tiny glare. 

“Oh come on now, honey. Where did your sense of humor go? You know I’m only joking,” Luke states, squeezing your hand a little harder, causing you to squirm.

Something tells Joel he’s not kidding around.

He’d meant what he had said.

“She hasn’t been a bother at all,” Joel speaks in your defense. “Actually, I came out here to talk to her and to thank her for bein’ so kind to my kid, Ellie. Your wife here, she’s been nothin’ but good to her since we arrived.”

“Well, as long as she wasn’t being a bother.” Luke glances down at you. “If you’ll excuse us, there’s a few people that I still need to see and say hello to inside. Come along, honey.” He glances at Joel, a strange glint in his eye as he tells him, “Welcome to Jackson, Joel.”

His jaw clenches as he watches him drag you into the barn.

Nothing about Luke sat right with him.

The way he’d spoken to you, touched you, treated you.

And then there was you.

The light had instantly left your eyes the second he’d come around. 

Something wasn’t right.

A rough hand on his shoulder startles him out of his thoughts.

“Really, Joel? Really? Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Tommy hisses, yanking him over to the side of the barn where nobody would overhear him. “What the fuck did I tell you yesterday in the mess hall?”

“The hell are you fuckin’ talkin’ ‘bout?”

His brother glares at him. “I know that you ain’t as fuckin’ dumb as you look, Joel. What the fuck were you doin’ out here alone with her? Huh?”

Joel purses his lips together tightly in silence.

What had he seen?

Having read his mind, Tommy shoves his shoulder. “You were dancin’ with her you fuckin’ asshole? Did you fuckin’ forget that she’s a married woman?”

Joel rolls his eyes at him and aggressively shoves his hand off of his shoulder. “We were just dancin’ together, alright? Ain’t like we were makin’ out, Tommy. Can you fuckin’ relax?”

“I don’t give a fuck, Joel! If I saw any man that wasn’t me dancin’ with Maria like that, I’d be fuckin’ pissed. I’d kick his fuckin’ ass,” he spits. “Her husband just showed up to the goddamn party. You’re fuckin’ lucky that it was me who saw you out there with her and not him. What if he’d seen you two? Then what?”

“Christ, Tommy. Relax,” Joel tries again to calm him. “It was just a dance, alright? It was nothin’ more than that. Okay?”

“You listen to me and you listen to me good, ‘cause I ain’t fuckin’ gonna say it again, big brother. Don’t go gettin’ any ideas ‘bout her. I don’t need you to go around stirrin’ up any kind of trouble,” Tommy says, his voice firm. “We can’t have that kinda shit here. Maria won’t tolerate it, and y’know what, I won’t either. Don’t fuckin’ cause problems. Got it?”

“Didn’t plan on it,” Joel mutters, bitterly.

Tommy narrows his eyes at him.

“Just fuckin’ watch yourself, Joel,” he warns. “I fuckin’ mean it.”

[fdelopera]

Exactly, Anon. Exactly. This is why the Ivy League Universities being turned into Hamasnik terrorist bases is so horrifying. Especially with Jew-hating students attacking Jewish students and professors on campus, with the Universities' sanction. The Universities could shut these Jew-hate riots down. The fact that they don't shows that they want them to continue. They're trying to chase away the Jewish students and professors from these schools. That's always the first step. That's what the Nazis did first, too.

This article is taken from the US Holocaust Memorial Museum website. I highly recommend that everyone read the whole article. But even if you read the first paragraph, you'll see the parallels to what is happening on Ivy League campuses today:

.

After Adolf Hitler was appointed German Chancellor in January 1933, the new Nazi government began an effort to completely reorder public and private life in Germany. 

The Nazi regime quickly targeted German universities—among the most elite in the world at the time—for restructuring according to Nazi principles. While the Nazi Ministry of Education initiated reforms, local Nazi organizations and student activists worked to bring Nazi ideals to German campuses. These forces, along with increasing antisemitism under Nazi rule, transformed everyday life at German universities. Throughout this period, students, faculty, and staff made individual decisions that both upheld and opposed Nazi ideology.

With the passage of the "Law for the Restoration of the Professional Civil Service" in 1933, most Jewish professors in Germany were dismissed from their positions. Others, such as Professor Eugen Mittwoch, were able to keep their posts temporarily only due to the political value of their research. After purging Jewish and "politically undesirable" faculty, the regime then targeted the student body with the "Law Against Overcrowding in Schools and Universities." As German authorities continued to "Aryanize" German universities, Jews increasingly lost the opportunity to teach or study. Many non-Jewish Germans sought to benefit from their persecution. 

The daily business of university life continued in the wake of these new policies, but political concerns increasingly influenced the way professors and students worked and studied. The practice of denunciation, as demonstrated by the "Request for the Investigation of Professor Hans Peters," illustrates the danger posed to both students and faculty if they failed to follow new ideological norms. Those willing to voice support for the new regime—whether out of enthusiasm or practicality—often received promotions or other rewards. Meanwhile, many others quietly accepted the new policies and passively benefited from the persecution of their Jewish peers. Very few, such as the small student group in Munich known as the White Rose, took any significant action to resist the Nazi dictatorship.

The Nazi government and its supporters manipulated several aspects of the country's traditional university system to turn German higher education into a crucial source of support for the new regime. For example, the German student population had been largely male long before the Nazi rise to power, and German campuses were dominated by fraternities.  Those organizations maintained traditional military discipline and dress codes, and their alumni groups exercised significant political power both before and after 1933. Fraternities—often working with the Student Council and Nazi Student League—served  as a powerful and violent force for implementing Nazi principles at universities, often going beyond the party platform in their radicalism. A Report on the Camaraderie House for Female Students of Göttingen shows how Nazi student groups used the format of traditional student organizations to train both men and women to become the next generation of Nazi leaders.

Although the regime could rely on many committed student activists, the Third Reich also sought the support of German professors to lend legitimacy to their policies. Because German universities were state institutions, professors' academic careers became vulnerable to the whims and wishes of the Nazi state. While only a small minority of professors had been Nazi Party members before 1933, several prominent professors quickly voiced their support for the Third Reich. In the new German university, political loyalty was valued over academic ability in the assessment of students and in the selection and promotion of professors. Authorities infused university classrooms with Nazi ideology—as shown in the document, "Foundation of the Advanced School of the German Reich". But prioritizing politics over academics affected the quality of German higher education. 

Nevertheless, professors—even enthusiastic supporters of the new regime—often spoke out against some aspects of Nazi policy. The case of Eduard Kohlrausch shows how his opposition to  student-led book burnings caused his removal from the university administration. Dissent against individual policies, however, did not give rise to any concerted resistance movements. German universities as a whole formed a solid base of support for the Nazi regime, contributing valuable knowledge to the development of technology for the war effort as well as logistical support for the Holocaust.

The Nazification of universities overwhelmed the daily lives of students with new requirements, including mandatory lectures, physical exercises, labor duties, and political assemblies. Many students resented those requirements, even if they supported the Nazi Party. In Heidelberg, for example, where the daily life of students was dominated by political instruction and mandatory physical training, large numbers of students withdrew from the university in search of other educational opportunities. As illustrated in the "Memo Regarding Maria-Elisabeth Koch," students also showed varying degrees of enthusiasm for the labor service that was often required of them in territories occupied by Nazi Germany.

The Nazi government's project of remaking German universities was broadly successful, but it produced unintended consequences. The quality of education suffered significantly as classes were regularly cancelled for political assemblies and students' schedules became filled with ideological and paramilitary training. Moreover, purging Jewish faculty deprived German universities of valuable expertise. Within a few years, many observers in Germany and abroad became deeply skeptical about the quality of German higher education in the Third Reich. Propaganda efforts such as the Carl Schurz tour for American professors and students—documented with a slickly produced video—did not prevent protest. The 550th-anniversary celebration of Heidelberg University met with opposition in Europe, even while prominent American universities such as Harvard accepted invitations.

With the defeat of the Third Reich in 1945, Allied forces occupying Germany began a long-term effort to remove the influence of Nazi ideology in German society. Many German academics who made significant contributions to the Nazi war effort fled to the United States, where they lived comfortable lives and their expertise was highly valued by American universities and the US military. In postwar Germany, many faculty and students who had benefited from the Nazis' discriminatory policies without being especially vocal or enthusiastic supporters of the regime sought to cast their dissent or their silence as forms of political resistance to obscure their own complicity. Although many Germans denied having supported the Nazi regime, antisemitism persisted in postwar Germany. The case of Hermann Budzislawski shows the difficulties encountered by the relatively few German Jews who decided to return to Germany after World War II.

Sources in this collection document the choices facing students and faculty pursuing their everyday lives in the shadow of Nazism and the Holocaust. Over the course of this period, as antisemitic discrimination escalated to mass murder, the higher education system proved to be a source of support—rather than opposition—to the party's project of remaking German society.

[mellowsadistic]

Easter Bunnies - Part 1

Melony and her boyfriend meet up with their friends for a garden party, but the girls are acting more like toddlers getting ready for an Easter egg hunt, and Melony's boyfriend expects her to join them.

***

“Are you looking forward to playing with your friends, sweetie?”

Melony scowled at her boyfriend as they walked up the driveway. “Don’t say it in such a patronising way, Peter!” she snapped, tossing back her long black hair. “How many times do I have to tell you not to talk to me like a child?”

“Sorry, Mel,” said Peter, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, baby. I know you’re very sensitive about that sort of thing.”

Melony pressed her lips together. Even his apologies were infantilising! Mostly she liked having Peter as her boyfriend; he was tall and handsome, and decent enough in bed, but he could be infuriatingly condescending at times – even though they were the same age, he sometimes treated her more like a toddler than the twenty-four-year-old woman she actually was. But now wasn’t the time for an argument. She’d save her scoldings for when they got home.

Peter knocked on the front door, and a few moments later it swung open to reveal a smiling, sandy-haired young man. “About time, you two!” George said cheerfully, standing back to let them over the threshold. “Happy Easter! Come on in. Hazel and Oliver are already here.” He shook hands with Peter as he passed and, to Melony’s annoyance, placed his hand on her back to move her along down the corridor, as though she couldn’t do it by herself. “Hazel’s just upstairs with Oliver, being changed into something more comfortable,” he said, “and Jackie’s playing out in the garden.”

Melony clenched her teeth. There was that word again. Playing. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking he was talking about a trio of three-year-olds, and not three grown women in their mid-twenties. And there was something about his smile that Melony didn’t like. But then George often looked like he was laughing at some private joke. It was maddening! She didn’t know how Jackie could stand it.

They were led into the bright kitchen at the back of the house. Double doors opened out onto a wooden decking, and beyond that a large green lawn with patches of brightly coloured Spring flowers. But before Melony could head out into the sun, she heard running footsteps on the landing above them, and then the unmistakable sound of someone rushing down the stairs as fast as they could.

“Hazel!” she heard a man call. She recognised Oliver’s voice. There were more hurried footfalls above them. “Wait for Daddy, silly girl!”

A moment later, a young brunette woman ran, or rather toddled, through the hallway to join them in the kitchen. “Mewwie!” she squealed, coming to a stop in front of them.

“Hazel?!” Melony gasped. Her normally shy, reserved friend was standing in front of her wearing a pair of trainers on her feet, a set of bunny ears on her head, and absolutely nothing in between. Her bare pussy and perky breasts were on full display, though it didn’t seem to bother her one bit. There was a vacant, innocent look in her green-brown eyes, and she was grinning broadly.

“Hazel, what are you doing?!” Melony asked, blushing scarlet with second-hand embarrassment. “Why are you dressed like that?!”

Oliver chuckled as he entered the kitchen behind his girlfriend. “I’m not sure I’d call her dressed at all, Mellie,” he said, winking at her. “My little lady was more comfortable in her birthday suit, but I insisted on shoes.” He patted his girlfriend’s bare bottom. “And of course, she absolutely refused to go without her pretty bunny ears.” He kissed Hazel on the cheek. “Didn’t you, baby girl?” he cooed. “You wanted to be Daddy’s nakie little bunny rabbit!”

Hazel giggled delightedly. “Nakie bunny!” she echoed, bouncing on the spot and making her boobs jiggle about.

“But she has to tell Daddy when she needs her potty,” Oliver said, “because we don’t want to leave any puddles on George’s floor, do we, baby?”

Hazel nodded seriously at her boyfriend. “Tell Daddy,” she agreed. “Don’t need puw-ups!”

“Not during the day at least,” said Oliver, bending down to give his girlfriend another kiss, this time on the forehead. “You’re Daddy’s big girl, aren’t you?”

“What the fuck is going on here?!” Melony demanded in a shrill voice. She realised she was breathing very fast. A part of her was sure this had to be some bizarre joke, but the blank look in Hazel’s eyes was telling her otherwise. She looked around at Peter and George, but neither of the boys seemed to think there was anything wrong with the situation. In fact, George looked like he was trying to hold back laughter as he took in the sight of Hazel standing nearly nude in front of him, prattling like a toddler. Peter was looking at her, however. There was a smirk playing around his lips, and an almost hungry look in his eyes.

Melony suddenly remembered that George had said Jackie was out in the garden, and she rushed to the back doors. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she reached them. Jackie was indeed playing in the garden. She was prancing about awkwardly like the littlest of toddlers, giggling and trying to catch butterflies. She wasn’t naked like Hazel, but Melony almost wished she was. She wore a pale pink dress, all frills and lace, and so short that it did nothing whatsoever to hide the enormously thick nappy she wore beneath. Even as Melony watched, Jackie bent over to peer at something in the grass, and her diapered bottom was thrust high into the air. The padding was sagging and discoloured. She’d clearly wet herself. A moment later, she straightened up and turned around, smiling even more vacantly than Hazel. Her blonde hair had been tied into a pair of pigtails, and she too wore a set of bunny ears.

Melony felt sick to her stomach. Something was very, very wrong here. Hazel and Jackie needed the hospital, or a psychologist, or something! They couldn’t be allowed to just walk around humiliating themselves like this! They needed help! Before she could get over her shock, however, Peter had walked up behind her and slipped a pair of fluffy bunny ears onto her head.

“What? What are you…?” Melony spun around, confused and angry, to see her boyfriend grinning at her. She lifted her hands to her head, feeling the soft ears, ready to rip them off, but by then it was already too late to stop the warm, fuzzy contentment spreading through her body from the top of her head to the tips of her toes…

[shawnxstyles]

Omg! Panty stealer pt2 is sooooo gooood! Cocky and dom Peter absolutely blew my mind! Your writing is awesome!

Pleeeeease tell me that it will be third part to fulfill the panty trilogy! As humble suggestion maybe reader find out that Pete is SpiderMan and he will finally get head from her while he is in his spidey costume? Or maybe more than just blowjob?Hehehe Am I very bad and naughty that I'm typing this to you? 🥵🤤

Anyways love ya darling! You're smashing it!

in the suit

words: 3k

warnings: smut; (m- receiving [oral], dirty talk), language, and fluff of course. barely edited.

note: panty!peter blurb #1 coming up :D also, this is the way i believe y/n would have found out about spider-man, but i have another request for the same thing so i’ll probably do an alternative version!

—

you couldn’t stop thinking about it. how?

how does peter manage to get into your room every night? okay, not every night, but most nights.

most nights, peter magically and mysteriously sneaks his way up into your forbidden bedroom with ease. sometimes, you even wait and watch outside your window to try to get a peak at what he’s doing. but you never see him.

he’s just so slick. how does he do it?

you and peter have been together for over a month now, if you’re counting the day he broke in. the feeling isn’t necessarily new in your heart. you feel like you’ve known him your whole life. like he’s always just… been there.

through this month of stability yet craziness, you haven’t gone back to the frat house since the halloween party. you thought that after you guys got together you would stay there more often, but peter doesn’t want you to be ‘attacked’ by the guys. meaning, he doesn’t want them to ask a million questions when you guys are supposed to be private. you thought his excuse was dumb, but he was also just being a bit protective.

in reality, peter just didn’t know how to get you into the frat house without anyone seeing you. you both had agreed that your relationship was going to be kept private, very private. people could spread rumors and assume you two were together, but you weren’t going to show each other off. you guys liked it this way, it made your relationship more special because it was just for you two.

peter had a sixth sense, sticky fingers, and webs. it was pretty easy for him to crawl up into your room especially because you didn’t have security cameras (maybe you guys should get some at some point though…). you would constantly ask him how he does it since you live on the second floor and it was high up. but peter responds by not responding and instead laughs and kisses you. god, he was too good at distracting you.

but tonight, you were determined to find out.

peter had already texted you earlier and said he wouldn’t be able to stop by tonight because of overbearing homework. you completely understood, and sent him a good luck and goodnight to me then message. but truly, you were sneaking out and heading towards the frat.

you put on your sneakers and a hoodie, pulling the strings tightly around your head. the early december weather was no joke in massachusetts, and your thermal leggings were barely helping to keep you warm. as quietly as possible, you leave through the back door, making sure not to alert anyone or anything. not like you have a system to alert though.

you cut through some of the hedges until you’re in the front yard and the frat is staring at you from across the street. taking a deep, chilly breath, you cross the road with your frozen fingers tucked in your pocket.

all the lights in the top rooms were off, except one. you’re not totally sure which one is peter’s, but what other frat guy would stay up until 11 p.m. working on homework?

maybe ned, but he sleeps downstairs.

you walk until you’re under the window, the yellowish light taunting you. there was no latter, vine, rope, or magic hair to get you into the bedroom. the houses were built very similarly, and you know he doesn’t bring a latter with him.

so how does he do it?

you take a glance at your surroundings. the biggest difference of your houses was that the guys’ didn’t have large garden hedges. they just had a shit ton of messy bushes that they should probably trim once in a while.

having no ideas, you try to jump towards the window. great, that’s totally going to help you. maybe you’ll get some super jump that can spring you up and inside.

you feel stupid. yeah, peter may be the smartest person on campus and going to mit on a full academic scholarship, but how does he sneak into your room? with geometry? you didn’t think so.

wait.

what if… he’s hiding something from you?

that would explain why he’s so weird about it. letting the impulsive decisions take you over, you throw a rock at his window. hopefully, you’ll get his attention and he’ll come down, so you can see how he does it. or he’ll just go through the front door… whatever he does, you need to ask him this question right now. or else you’ll never be able to sleep again.

when throwing the rock gets tedious and noisy, you quit. just as you’re about to drop to the ground in annoyance, you hear a distant whipping sound. you hold your breath as if the person whipping will hear you.

fuck. it wasn’t a good idea for you to go out at night.

suddenly feeling anxious and scared, you slowly creep towards the sorority house. you don’t get too far before you see a body flinging through the air. the whipping noise gets closer and closer to you with every web on the streetlights. what the…

there’s only one person that could possibly be doing the impossible.

spider-man.

but what was he doing in your little neighborhood? this was one of the safest places in the area, so he didn’t need to check up here. there were so many more places in massachusetts that needed saving. feeling beyond curious, your feet scatter to hide you behind one of the untrimmed bushes.

you watch through crowded leaves as spider-man swings through the neighborhood, getting towards you. it’s like he can sense you and he’s coming for you. your heart thumps wildly in your chest, nervous about seeing him. you’ve never seen him before, and at least not in person. he was popular on the newspaper and television screens, but never on the street. unless you lived within the city.

with one long and final thwip, spider-man flings himself towards the frat house.

what. the…

you place your hand over your mouth, just in case your breathing is too loud. you intensely watch as the spider crawls up the white wall and towards the only lit window in the whole house.

no. fucking. way.

before you could fully register what you were seeing, you felt the gasp leave your mouth. you slap both of your hands on your face to shut yourself up. you nearly fall back on your heels as spider-man halts his movements. he scans his surroundings before jumping down the wall entirely.

your eyes are wide and your hands of shaking. you’ve never felt your heart beat so unbelievably fast, but you’ve also never been more afraid. what does he do to people that find out? what is going to happen to your relationship?

the body of blue and red stocks closer to the bushes with careful steps. you try to scoot away, but your back hits the fence. the wood creaks, your actions not quiet enough. his footsteps pick up speed as they rush to the bushes with determination.

spider-man jumps over the plant with grace, hoping to see a wild animal of some sort. but when he sees his girl with the most shocked and terrified expression in the world, he immediately falls to his knees.

“y/n,” he calmly says, slowly inching to you. he doesn’t hesitate to comfort you as peter. you don’t move, you just listen. “it’s okay. i promise.”

now that he sensed you, peter could hear your heartbeat overbearingly in his ears. he could hear your muffled breaths under your palm, and he just wanted to soothe your fear.

“baby,” he wanted to cuddle your body until you stopped shaking. you weren’t crying, you were just in shock. peter takes a quick glance at his surroundings before yanking off his mask and kneeling, so you could see his face reflecting off the moonlight. “it’s just me.”

“i…” you whispered as your hands fell from your face. peter doesn’t hesitate to grab them gently with his gloved ones. “…knew it.”

“you knew i was spider-man?”

“well… for like five seconds,” you flusteredly laugh while trying to recover. you still haven’t gotten used to this. well it’s only been a minute. “i knew you were hiding something.”

“what are you doing out this late anyway?” he stares straight up at the moon as it shines vehemently over you both.

“uh… well,” you start, “i was kind of curious as to how you always snuck into my bedroom without a latter or something, so i went to see? i don’t really know what i was looking for.”

peter chuckles. “but you found your answer, yeah?”

“yeah, i did,” you smile with sweetness as peter helps you up from the grass floor.

—

“it’s different breaking into your room rather than mine,” you say as you sit on the edge of peter’s bed. you watch as he tosses his mask inside of a box labeled books. “so that’s what was in the box. not dirty magazines.”

“surprise?” peter laughs and you giggle at his shyness. his cheeks and nose were red from the cold, but also from the slight blush that crossed them. you made him feel all warm and tingly inside, and even a little gooey.

his hand reaches for the button on his chest. it deflates, instantly becoming huge around him.

“wait,” you stop him before he undresses himself. he looks towards you. “can i just… look at you for a moment? in the suit?”

a small smirk creeps up his face. peter clicks the button again and his suit encloses on his body, outlining his muscles perfectly. every ridge and curve of him was being shown off by the spandex. you felt a spark of lust fire inside of you at the sight.

“like me in my suit, baby?” he teased as he trudged over to you. you stood up from the bed to meet his buff chest. you nodded with a bite of your lip.

he nearly growls before attaching your lips. it’s barely been a day since he’s last kissed you, but that’s too long for him. his gloved hand grips your jaw to deepen the kiss while your hands explore his messy hair.

the heat between you was undeniable. you were getting worked up over peter in his suit, and that’s something you never thought was possible. because you didn’t think peter being spider-man was possible.

is there a spider-man kink?

you take your shirt off after breaking the kiss, but resume it in no time. as he pushes you onto the bed, you stop him, having a new idea in mind.

“peter,” you sigh, spandex body hovering over yours.

“you okay?”

“yeah, yes. i just…” you swallowed, “can i…”

you didn’t really get your question out. you just slithered your body off the bed until your knees were digging into his carpet. peter’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares down at your figure, submissive below him.

“fuck. you want to touch my cock?” peter was already growing hard at the idea of fucking you in his suit. he found it hot that you found his suit hot. everything seemed to be a turn on right now. but now you were on your fucking knees like an angel and damn near begging to touch him?

how could he say no?

“go ahead then, sweet girl,” peter allows, but you stay still.

“how do i take it off—?”

“right—”

he unzips a zipper that you swear wasn’t there before. you barely take him fully out before you’re drooling at the sight. he was big and thick, and you don’t think you’d ever get used to looking at and feeling him.

your thumb drags over his weepy tip and he winces at your freezing touch.

“sorry!” you exclaimed with a funky smile. he forcefully laughs while you spit warmth into your hand.

“it’s okay, baby.”

your delicate hand wraps around him as you shift up and down. he sighs into the air, eyes fluttering back. your other hand scratches his thighs lightly. then, you fondle his balls until he’s groaning above you.

“fuck, darling,” he moans as his rough hand rests on your head. with his grip on you, you feel inclined to put your mouth on him. you’re barely an inch away, so what are you waiting for?

your lips pucker as you kiss his veiny shaft. you see from the top of your eyes how his face floods with pleasure, and your ego rises.

“if you look at me like that again, i’m going to explode, baby,” peter husks with his fingers laced in your hair for support.

with a hummed chuckle, you finally place your mouth on him. you suck on his leaky tip as a deep groan elicits from him. his noises always give you a bunch of reassurance, so you hum against him in satisfaction.

“takin’ me so well,” peter forces himself to stay still and let you do all the work. although, his hips just want to break free and ram into the back of your throat until you lose your voice. for another time… “love when you’re on your knees for me.”

you vibrated a moan against his cock as you took him deeper, a little more than half way. you were never the best at giving head because you couldn’t go that far down without gagging atrociously, but after peter showed you a better technique, for breathing and comfort, he thought you were a professional.

“you like being on your knees for me? or for spider-man?”

a groggy moan rippled around his cock from your filled throat, confirming his suspicions. you were definitely turned of the idea of peter as spider-man, and because of that, he was too. every time you were horny, peter was too.

you released your hands from him and braced them on his thighs. you focused and remembered the small notes he’s given you before. you take a long breath before sinking his cock deep in the back of your mouth. your thumb stabs your palm to eliminate your gag reflex, and it works. your nose nudges the base of his cock and you can see up close how his abs contract tightly.

“fuck! doing so good for me. going to make me come, sweet girl.”

hearing this, you bob and twist your head with a goal. your tongue swirls exploring around each ridge like it’s never tasted the plain before. peter was delicious; he was sweet with a pinch of saltiness that made you a fan of giving head. you would get on your knees any day for him.

his cock twitches in your mouth, warning you that he’s coming. you feel his hips buck into you as he strongly yanks your hair. you groan as he lets himself go.

“where do you want it? on your face? chest? or are you going to swallow it like a good girl?”

even when his dick twitches again, you don’t make an effort to move. you lick the underside of him, which sends peter over the edge.

a string of hushed groans fall from his pink lips as his muscles clench. ropes of his orgasm spurts down your throat, and you swallow every drop like a champ. well, almost all. parts of his come drip from the corner of your lip as he slowly pulls out of you.

the second he exits you, your jaw is instantly sore and achy, but it was worth it. to see the flustered and breathless peter above you was worthless everytime. peter was nearly disoriented by how fucking incredible your mouth was. how you were.

he tucks himself back into his suit as you remain on the floor. he leans down and helps you up, your knees popping in the process.

“how was it this time?” you croaked, voice cracking horrendously. peter tries not to laugh as he wipes away the nearly dried sperm on your face. you open your mouth without a thought, and he sticks his thumb in your mouth for you to lick it clean.

“it was good. fucking amazing. impeccable. exceeded expectations. outstanding performance—”

“okay, okay i get it. you’re a nerd!” you brokenedly laugh as you shove his chest. you got a sudden wave of chills because you were starting to get a bit cold. your body was still running hot because you were still, well, turned on.

“nerds are awesome, okay? they know everything.”

“like what? impress me,” you challenge as you throw your leg on top of his lap and get yourself seated. he smirks, feeling his cock chuff up a bit already. you were beyond soaked in your panties, and you just couldn’t wait for peter to destroy you.

peter knows you didn’t actually want him to say anything nerdy, so he made it a bit sexual. as always.

“they know how to… kiss.”

“you’re probably the one nerd that knows how to kiss.”

“okay, fine. i know how to kiss,” his hand cups your face as it leans closer towards his. he places a soft, longing kiss on your swollen lips before pulling away way too fast for your liking. “i know how to touch you, i know how to rile you up. right? i’m doing it right now. and you’re probably soaking.”

a warmth wave floods through your body at his words.

“i know how to talk to you too. bet these dirty words are going straight to your little clit, huh?”

“peter,” you whimper. he was right. he was beyond right.

his hand trails down your bare stomach and hovers over your clothed cunt. he can feel the heavy heat radiating from you through your leggings, begging for more.

“i can feel you. i can smell you, too. a perk of being spider-man,” he smiles, “guess this nerd is pretty great.”

“peter!” you shook his shoulders in desperation, but he didn’t move. you had a love hate relationship with his teasing. he indeed got you riled up, to the max, until you were begging him to touch you. he just dragged it on and on and on. he loved hearing you beg for it.

“okay, okay, sweet girl,” peter chuckled as his fingers fumbled down the waistline of your leggings. they were thick, so you helped him get them down. “just want to hear you say how awesome nerds are first. how do you think i made these webs?”

“you’re the hottest, super-nerd i’ve ever met in my life. now can you please fuck me?” you begged as your cunt ached.

“aw thanks, baby,” all he did was laugh at your misery with a smirk. “all you had to do was say please.”

—

note: not my best work, but i hope you enjoyeddd. literally posting this at 1 am :D

taglist: @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz

crossed out= not able to tag

[charcharbinks333]

the evans preferences - part two

what pet name(s) they call you

warnings: suggestive, sex mentioned, fem!reader

includes: tate langdon, kit walker, pre!death kyle spencer, james patrick march, austin sommers, peter maximoff

pink is reader, blue is character

tate langdon:

definitely big on baby

he would love being called that as well

“mhm… i missed you baby…” he murmured into your neck as he held you close. your face immediately flushed red. that was the first time he’d called you that. “i missed you more, tate,” you whispered back, running a hand though his hair.

my love when you have been together for longer for sure

kit walker:

babe/sugar when you first start dating

“yeah, i’ll have you home by 7…” kit sighed into the phone, trying to seem annoyed, but betrayed by the smile cracking on his lips which you couldn’t see. “trust me babe, i’m responsible, i promise.” and he kept his promise. “i’ll see ya tomorrow, suga’,” he cooed. he kissed you at the door, wished you a goodnight, and drove off. by the time you were inside, it was 7:01.

definitely starts calling you cheesy nicknames as you get closer. doll, pumpkin, sweetheart, lovebug, all the cute shit.

calls you baby/hun while he rails you tbh

pre!death kyle spencer:

frankly, kyle is pretty basic. babe/baby/hun usually, (sometimes love/sweetie)

would definitely call you ma/mama/mamas in private or when he’s drunk

“ma please let me,” kyle whined as he rested his hand on your thigh, looking up at you with puppy dog eyes. you didn’t mind pda at parties, but him laying his head on your lap seemed like too much. you ran your hand through his hair, a sheepish smile on your face. “how am i supposed to resist those eyes…”

james patrick march:

VERY big on darling/dear. those are the main two for sure.

“are you sure you wouldn’t like to come, darling? some of the biggest names in killer history will be attending,” he cooed in his suave brahmin accent, his hand lifting yours and his lips pecking your knuckles gently. he looked down at you with a fond smile as you pondered. “why not, it could be fun.”

he’s big on love/my love as well. on occasion sweetheart

definitely wants to be called sir during sex

austin sommers:

darling. love. honeybunch. sweetie. sweetcheeks. nothing much else to say abt him tbh

peter maximoff:

most pet names with him would be joking

sweet cheeks, honey, love, ma/mama, baby, babe, the whole shabang

hes just grateful to have a gf tbh he never thought it would happen

“pete, whats my name in your phone?” you asked suspiciously after seeing it vaguely out of the corner of your eye. he turned his phone screen toward you without hesitation, showing you the contact. ❤️Sweet Cheeks❤️. and of course, the contact photo was a picture of you, in the mirror, with his hand around your throat. “real classy, eh?” he joked.

definitely makes silly nicknames out of your name

[plathfiles]

lead singer!remus never being one to be public with his emotions but writing the sappiest love song for reader and the fans just go wild!!! everyone just assumes it was james or sirius that wrote it (let's be honest james probably wrote 10000 ballads for lily) until one show remus is just all 'this is one i wrote for my girl' 🥺🥺🥺

GAH 😩 YES OMG OMG !!!

thank you for this love <3

hope you enjoy !!

The Marauders set up their instruments and sound hours ago, practicing as much as they could before their performance. The band had started receiving gigs in pubs and at parties. Already having a few original songs under their belt, they were receiving more attention from local venues.

You had been introduced to the band from a dear friend. Marlene McKinnon was friends with the band and the guitarist’s girlfriend — Lily Evans. Everyone was going to be there tonight. The pub already filling up with university students and local residents from the community. You were in a booth at the front of the venue, squashed between Marlene and Lily.

“I wonder how many love ballads there will be tonight?” Marlene asked, turning to Lily and giving her a smirk.

Lily playfully rolled her eyes. “James doesn’t write that many,” she protested. Although she had to admit, the boy had written a few love ballads similar to those of the 1980s.

You took a sip of your drink and looked at you friends. “I wonder if Remus has written anything?” She asked.

Remus was a very private writer. He would write with Sirius or the rest of the band. You wouldn’t be opposed to having a song about you. But Remus didn’t seem like the type either. Especially with James’ obnoxious guitar skills and clearly Lily inspired lyrics.

As the room got more crowed and the 9 o’clock showtime reared it’s head, the band stepped out onto stage.

Remus was the first to come out. He was wearing an argyle sweatshirt and corduroy pants. It was his signature look and you thought it was very attractive. His guitar was around his chest. It’s bright cherry red color glistening in the light. Sirius was the second to pop out from behind the curtain, drum sticks in hand. James stepped out, almost tripping on a cord. He was usually very clumsy. His glasses were crooked, per usual and his vintage yellow electric guitar was strapped onto him. Peter was the last to get on stage, his glittering blue bass in his arms.

The band did a couple last minute checks, before Remus grabbed the microphone and looked into the crowd.

“Hello everyone. I’m Remus Lupin if you didn’t already know,” he smiled and the crowd cheered. “To my left is James Potter on electric guitar, to my right is Peter Pettigrew on bass. And lastly, on the platform behind me is Sirius Black on drums,” he introduced. With each name the crowd went wild!

Remus looked down at you and gave you a smirk and wink. You felt your cheeks redden and butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“We have a newly written song for you tonight!” Remus said. “This is a love song!”

The crowd cheered before he could finish the introduction.

“Awe here we go again Lils, another one about you,” Marlene joked. You laughed under your breath as Lily took a drink of her beer.

But Remus continued and said something that surprised you.

“I wrote this one,” he blushed, then looking at you. “This is one I wrote for my girl.”

The band began to play the opening notes of the rock n roll song. As he was singing, he was only looking at you. Lily and Marlene cheered along with the crowd. You were stunned to silence, a permanent blush coding you cheeks.

For three minutes Remus and the rest of the band performed a song of Remus’ creation. All about the beauty and wonder that was you.

The rest of the performance went beautifully. With some of their usual set and a couple Bowie covers, they seemed to be over before you knew it.

After the performance you, Lily and Marlene went to meet the band out back to help them pack up their stuff. Once Remus spotted you, he dropped the cigarette he was smoking. He walked to you and pulled you close to him.

“Did ya like the song, love?” he asked you.

You nodded, “I did. I was surprised you wrote a love song about me?”

Remus pulled you in closer. “I meant every word I wrote. And I’d write you a million love songs, now that I have you in my arms,” he replied.

Overhearing the two of you, Sirius groaned, putting some parts of his drum set into the van. “Ugh great! You’re going to make him as bad as James,” he said, looking towards you.

Remus and you laughed, then the brown haired boy pulled you into a sweet kiss. “I’m glad you liked the song. I can’t wait to write you another.” He held you close to him, kissing your forehead.

𝑎／𝑛 ： I hope you enjoyed this. Please do not forget to reblog and like! If you’d like to request anything please send me a message through my inbox. Also my dms are open anytime if anyone just wants to chat <3

[babyhatesreality]

Hey!!! I loved your lates fic here

But I’m not sure how to think about Steve.

Would he still give her time out bc he thinks she is lying about something daddy said when she is telling the truth?

Imagine she gets in a little argument with another little one and the other one is telling her Papa that she said something mean/ a no no word. Would he believe his little one? Bc I don’t think so ☹️

AAAHHHHH I HAVE HAD THIS IDEA IN MY HEAD SINCE DAY ONE SO THANK YOU FOR GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO WRITE IT!!! <3

Listen to your Little

Pairing: Daddy! Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), f! reader, reader is named but name scarcely used, pet names, language, anxiety, mentions of past emotional upheaval, someone tells lies, mistrust, baby gets unfairly punished, mean Papa, mean Daddy, angst, fluffity fluff fluff fluff, everything gets worked out in the end because I always need a happy ending.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

A/N- this takes place about 2 weeks after you've moved in with Stucky, when you're still- unbeknowst to you- in your probationary period with SHIELD.

You were excited- and nervous- but mostly excited! It was your first play date with Wanda and Pietro since moving in with your daddies. You'd all met before of course, at the big welcome-to-the-family party, and gotten along famously. But this was the first time you were going over to Aunt Natasha's and Uncle Bruce's apartment to play. You and Wanda had bonded over your mutual love of Care Bears and My Little Ponies, and you were super excited to see her collection and play ponies again. You were nervous about Pietro, though. He wasn't exactly mean to you, but he didn't like that Wanda paid more attention to you than to him when you both were together. He also didn't like that you and Peter got so close, so quickly.

"C'mon, none of that now," Bucky said gently, pulling your fingers out of your mouth as he bounced you in his arms. The three of you were making your way to the elevator to go to the Banner/Romanoff floor. Bucky had noticed that you were a little hesitant when you'd left the apartment, so he had immediately scooped you up to snuggle you on the way. You had started chewing on your fingers, a sign that he'd only recently learned meant that you were feeling distress. "I don't want you to bite your fingers off. That's MY job," he teased, before pretending to eat your fingers playfully. You squealed and giggled for a moment, but eventually laid your head on his shoulder with a tiny sigh.

"What's the matter, Lovebug?" Steve asked, leaning into your view point and rubbing your back soothingly. "Are you feeling okay?" He looked around as they stepped into the elevator. He knew that SHIELD was watching their every move, and if something was wrong with you, by god he was going to figure it out in a heartbeat. He kept patting you, but you didn't speak until the doors to the elevator had closed.

"What if....what if dey don't like me?" you said, just loud enough for them to hear it.

"Wanda and Pietro?" Steve asked in surprise. "They already like you, angel. Remember how you and Wanda were playing that you were the little ponies just two nights ago?"

"MY little ponies," you corrected, your head popping up to make sure your Papa understood the very important difference in wording. He smiled.

"Sorry, MY little ponies," he said, booping you on the nose. "You two had so much fun that you fell asleep before you could finish telling us all about it, remember?" He and Bucky shared a private smirk; that had been the night they had discovered that letting you tell your own stories at bedtime was a bad idea. You had literally not stopped talking during your bath, pajamas, and being tucked into their bed. They found it so cute that they couldn't bear to stop you, but you'd continued for a good hour past bedtime until your exhausted body overcame your brain and you'd fallen asleep mid-sentence.

That hadn't gone over terribly well with the review board. They understood that Steve and Bucky hadn't wanted to stifle you, but they were concerned that not adhering to a strict schedule, no matter what, might set a bad precedent. From then on, Steve and Bucky had been fastidious about your bedtime routine. They weren't risking anything that could potentially 'set a bad precedent' and get you taken away from them.

You didn't know any of that of course- all you knew was that you were feeing a little anxious about the visit. When you didn't answer Steve right away, he continued trying to help you through this. "Tell you what, Katie Cat," he said, grinning when you smiled softly at the special nickname. "If you feel icky, or if something is bothering you, you can tell me or Daddy, and we'll all come back home. Okay?"

"Don't wanna spoil your fun..." you mumbled into Bucky's shoulder. Bucky and Steve locked eyes for a moment. They had prepared for things like this. In all of the time the three of you had spent together before this, you'd been very honest about your issues with abandonment and self-worth, and how it all tied into your need to regress. You were scared to death to do anything that might make your new and already-beloved daddies mad or upset, no matter how little it seemed.

"Baby, this time is for you, okay?" Steve said reassuringly. "We just want you to have fun with your new little friends. Daddy and I see Aunt Natasha and Uncle Bruce all the time, so if you need to leave, you're not spoiling anything. Everyone will understand, and no one will be mad. Okay?"

"Otay," you whispered back, a shy smile on your face. Bucky pressed a kiss into your hair.

"That's our girl," he said, nuzzling the top of your head with his cheek. "Do you want a paci so you don't chew on your fingers again?"

You shook your head. "No, tank you," you said politely, making them both melt. "Gonna be a big girl." You leaned back and looked at Bucky, tilting your head. If you were gonna be a big girl, you really should be walking by yourself...."Big girl later," you decided, then nuzzled back into the safety of Daddy's shoulder, making him chuckle.

**********************************************************************

An hour later, you wondered what on earth you'd been nervous about. Wanda, Pietro, and you were currently playing the most fabulous game of Chutes and Ladders ever. The three of you had started the playdate with exploring their playroom. You were in absolute awe of the colorful and joyous chaos, and they had delighted in showing you everything. Then came the games. You hadn't played such a raucous, noisy version of Chutes and Ladders in so long and it was a blast. You were also apparently really good at it, as you placed your token on the winning block for the second time in a row.

"Wow! You are SO good at this game, Katie!" Wanda cheered, leaning over to give you a high five. "Here, high five Buttons now," she instructed, holding up her favorite teddy. You giggled and gently high fived his paw, making her laugh.

"That's not fair, that you won two games in a row," Pietro interjected suddenly into your joy. You quickly dropped your hand, feeling awkward. Pietro had been fine, if not a little quiet, when you won the first time, but it seemed like two times was his limit. You started feeling that little prickle of anxiety that you had when you were coming here.

"You're just jealous that she won and you LOST," Wanda said, sticking her tongue out. Pietro jumped up, enraged at his sister.

"I'm gonna tell Mommy that you stuck your tongue out!" he announced triumphantly.

"Then I'M gonna tell her that you're being mean to us and you'll get a time out," Wanda shot back, glaring at her brother. Pietro scowled at her, but sat back down.

"We're gonna play again and this time I'M gonna win," he grumbled.

"We don't hafta play dis game," you said hesitantly. "We can play something else. Whachu wanna play?" You bit your lip- you didn't want to lose your new friends on your very first playdate.

"This and I'm gonna win," he declared. You exchanged a quick look with Wanda, who shrugged and put her piece back at the starting block. Not wanting to rock the boat anymore than you accidentally already had, you quietly put your piece back at the beginning too.

You subtly tried to flick the spinner so you'd land on the lower numbers, but Wanda caught on immediately. "No, you gotta do it right. I want you to win again!" she said, making you retake your turn. You sighed and flicked, and of course, landed on a square that gave you a huge ladder up.

"You cheated!" Pietro said, pointing at Wanda after he realized how far ahead this made you in the game. "You made her go again and that's cheating!"

"Nuh-uh!" Wanda said hotly. "You're trying to cheat 'cause you wanna win."

"You're a big ol' dumbbell!" Pietro yelled at her. Your anxiety suddenly turned to anger at his exclamation. You knew that name calling was absolutely not allowed from any of you. On top of that, Pietro was just being mean. No one messed with your friends!

"Please stop being mean," you said, pushing yourself up to stand on your knees. You weren't quite brave enough to stand all the way up, but you definitely couldn't stay seated when your friend was being called names. Pietro's eyes narrowed at you menacingly.

"What did you say?" he said, almost daring you to say it again.

"I said please stop being mean!" you said, louder than you intended. Before you could even take a breath, Pietro zoomed out of the room. You looked at Wanda, startled. "Wha' happened?" you asked nervously. You knew that the twins weren't supposed to use their powers when they weren't on missions, so something bad obviously just happened for him to break the rules like that.

Just then, you heard loud steps pounding down the hallway. "Kaitlyn!" Papa scolded loudly as he came around the corner and into the room. You hadn't heard that tone from him before. You sat back down in shock, staring at him with wide eyes. What did you do for him to use your full name like that? "Pietro said that you were calling him names," he accused you, his hands on his hips and fire in his eyes.

"Wh-wha'? No, I didn't," you stammered, your mind spinning as you tried to figure out what was happening.

"No, Uncle Steve, she-" Wanda piped up. But Steve held up a hand to her.

"Not now, sweetie," he said, his tone just a touch softer, before he turned his glare back to you. You felt yourself shrinking down, feeling even littler than normal. "What do you have to say for yourself, young lady?" Steve scolded, his blue eyes narrowing at you.

"Papa, I didn' say nuffin' bad-"

"You know better than to call names, little girl," he said, almost as if you hadn't spoken. "There is no excuse for that kind of behavior. You don't treat your friends like that, and you don't call names, EVER."

"But-"

"But nothing. Come here, right now," he said, pointing to his feet. Scared to death, you shut your mouth and scrambled to get up and stand at his feet. "You're getting a time out," Steve said angrily, putting his hand on your back and ushering you out of the playroom.

You desperately wanted a chance to defend yourself, to ask why Papa believed that you would be so naughty. You looked up at him and inhaled as if to speak, but he immediately pointed a finger in your face. "Hush," he scolded. "Not one word." You obediently shut your mouth and tried to keep the tears from falling.

Steve led you to an empty corner in the dining room where he, Bucky, and Natasha had been sitting and chatting. Natasha and Bucky were nowhere to be seen, though. Steve made sure your nose was firmly in the corner before sitting down in the chair closest to you. "Now you think about what you've done, and when your time out it over, you're going to apologize to Pietro." It took everything within you not to make a sound or turn around at this injustice, but the fear of making Papa even angrier kept you in your place. You knew that you were not to move or make a sound in time out unless you wanted a longer one, so you kept yourself still.

Just then, you heard footsteps approaching. "Oh no," Bucky said when he saw you. "What did she do?" he asked Steve. You could hear the touch of steel in his tone, making you even more frightened.

"She called Pietro a name while they were playing their game," Steve responded, his own voice still tight with anger. "I let her know that is completely unacceptable, and she'll be apologizing when it's all over."

"Name calling?" Bucky said incredulously. He knew you had a mischievous streak a mile wide, but you had never been anything other than sweet and playful. He would never have thought you capable of that in a million years. His mind was blown at his sweet little angel being that mean.

"Apparently, they were playing a game, and when Pietro said something about wanting to win this round, she called him a 'dumb meanie-head'."

"What?!" Bucky yelled as you trembled in the corner. "Oh, she's writing lines tonight too. We are NOT letting her get away with this kind of behavior." Your insides quaked- now they were both against you and you hadn't even done anything.

"Hang on," Aunt Natasha said suddenly. "What exactly did Pietro say?" she questioned her oldest friend.

"He sped in here very upset-"

"He used his powers?"

"Yes. I don't think he meant to be bad, he was just worked up," Steve explained. You tensed up in the corner at Papa making excuses for Pietro, but still not defending you. Unbeknownst to you, Natasha noticed.

"Hmmm," she said, pressing her lips together as she thought. "Just out of curiosity, did Wanda say anything?" You couldn't see it from your viewpoint of the two walls, but the rest of the room saw Steve blush, slightly.

"Well, she tried to say something, but I...didn't let her," he said, a tad bit sheepishly. "I didn't want her to try to lie to get Katie out of trouble. We...can't take any chances right now. We need to make sure that we're...providing a healthy environment with boundaries and rules. We're not taking any chances. Not with our little girl."

Natasha knew exactly what Steve meant and that his heart was in the right place, but she also realized that you didn't fully understand all the larger implications at play here. And she knew her twins well enough to know that there was probably a lot more to the story.

"I hear you," Natasha said. "And I understand. But...just indulge me for a moment." She waited to get the nod from both Steve and Bucky before calling down the hallway. "Wanda? Pietro? Come into the dining room, please."

You tried your hardest not to fidget, but this was the worst. Your new friend and your now-mortal enemy were going to see you in trouble, and that was so embarrassing you started to silently cry again, biting down on your lip to not make a sound. You heard two pairs of feet shuffle in, but then the silence was shattered by your defender.

"No, that's not fair!" Wanda shrieked, pointing at you still stuck in the corner. "Katie didn't even do anything!!" At that, the room exploded into accusations and soothing words and frustration and anxiety, until finally Natasha made herself heard over everyone.

"Alright, ALRIGHT!" she shouted everyone down. "Wanda, tell me what happened." Pietro made a sound of indignation, but was quickly silenced. "You'll get your chance, Pietro. But Wanda is going first."

Much to your relief, Wanda quickly told the story of what actually happened, emphasizing that you had NOT called Pietro a name- you'd simply said that he was being mean. "Which he WAS," she finished sulkily, glaring at him.

A horrible, sinking feeling was settling into the pit of Steve's stomach. "Pietro, you told me that she called you a dumb meanie-head," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking at the amount of damage he might have just done.

"It's what she MEANT," Pietro replied hotly after stammering for a moment, caught in his lie.

"NO IT'S NOT!" Wanda shrieked, outraged on your behalf. Pietro immediately started yelling back. Natasha quickly broke the argument up as Steve and Bucky both spun towards you.

"Oh my god, angel, I am so sorry," Steve said, his eyes brimming with tears. When you didn't make a move, his heart stopped for a second before he realized- he hadn't given you permission to leave the corner yet. You were being his good little girl, as always. "Lovebug, please come out of the corner. You should never have been in there and Papa is so very sorry."

You turned to him but couldn't look him in the eye. You didn't want him to see the tears that were still streaming down your face. But there was no way that he could have missed them. In an instant, he was crushing you to his chest, dropping kiss after kiss on top of your head in between apology after apology. "I am so sorry I didn't give you a chance to tell your side of the story, baby. Papa was very, very naughty today."

Bucky reached out and rubbed the parts of your back that he could touch, as you were still firmly held in Steve's arms. "And I'm sorry too, that I just jumped to conclusions," Bucky apologized as well. As someone who'd lost his own voice for years, he felt doubly guilty at taking away yours. "I will never do that again baby, I promise. Okay?" He moved in a little closer, exchanging a worried look with Steve when you didn't answer. "Angel?" he said softly. "Can you talk to me and Papa please?"

You finally turned your tear-stained face up to Steve. "I wann'ed to be a good girl today," you finally sobbed out. "Was I bad?" You were still too little to fully understand everything that had happened, but you were feeling some awful big feels.

"No Angel, you weren't bad at all," Steve said, feeling lower than shit. "You were very good to try to stand up for your friend, and I'm very very sorry that I didn't listen when you tried to tell me what happened. You are my good baby and you always will be." Steve expected you to yank yourself out of his arms and his life forever for his colossal fuck up, but the exact opposite happened instead.

You threw your arms around his neck and squeezed as hard as you could. You were so relieved that you hadn't been bad, and that things seemed to be getting back to normal, that all you could do was hold on to your Papa for dear life.

Natasha had let Pietro have his say while you and your daddies had been making up, but once he realized he was caught, he begrudgingly admitted that he had lied. He said that he'd been mad that he hadn't won and waited until Natasha wasn't near Uncle Steve to tattle. Natasha sent Pietro to his room promptly with the promise of a "long talk tonight with me and Daddy". She let Wanda worm her way into Steve's arms to hug you too. Wanda declared you the forever winner of Chutes and Ladders.

Steve and Bucky were both looking at Natasha, panic screaming in their eyes. What on earth was the board going to do with this? Would this be enough for them to take you away from them? However, Natasha smiled. "I got this," she said lovingly to her friends. She knew exactly how to manage this one with that damn board....

Later that night, Steve and Bucky each presented you with a piece of paper, in which they both had written "I will listen to my little girl" one hundred times each. Steve did two hundred, out of sheer guilt for putting you in time out on top of everything else. Your giggle at their self-induced punishments and the subsequent snuggle session started to make everything look a lot brighter.

The next morning, you were back to your normal happy-go-lucky self, thrilled with being babysat by Kate for the day. You had given your daddies big hugs and kisses before they left, promising to be good. Steve and Bucky, still feeling the residual pangs of guilt, made their way to their only meeting of the day, but one that they were very much ready for.

Natasha smiled as they closed the conference room door behind them. "Welcome gentlemen," she said, slightly teasing as they both took their seats sheepishly. "Welcome to 'Listening to your Little, 101'."

[thecrazywriter7182006]

The River part 1

18+ Content

Beacon Hills had finally achieved peace, everything was normal well as normal as it could be in Beacon Hills.

Everyone is an grownup now out of high school and exploring the world, Scott was at Derek’s new house and as he walked in he saw Peter “Hey” Peter’s waved.

“I was just here to see if Derek had any ideas of fun places to visit” Peter smiled “I know a place” Scott looked at Peter “Really?” Peter nodded “It’s called the river, a bunch of supernaturals go there” Scott raised an eyebrow.

“You mean like all the ones we’ve encountered” Peter shook his head “No Scott but the club is peaceful, no one gets hurt” Scott nodded “Can you tell me where it is” Peter handed Scott a card.

Scott made his way to the club and he eventually found an entrance with a bouncer at the entrance, Scott walked up “Are you here for partying or pleasure?”

Scott looked at the bouncer “What do you mean by pleasure” the bouncer looked at Scott “Sex with one of our half sex demons” Scott blushed and then thought about it…he hadn’t had sex in a while.

“Pleasure” The bouncer grabbed Scott’s hand and put a red mark on his hand and pointed at another man “That’s Shane, he’ll please you tonight.”

After Scott and Shane got into the private room, Shane walked over to Scott and started kissing him and Scott kissed back as they kissed, Scott felt his dick getting hard.

Shane pulled off Scott’s shirt and threw him on the bed, Shane hopped on top of Scott.

Shane started to kiss Scott’s stomach going up until he reached Scott’s chest, Shane started to suck on Scott’s nipples.

Scott gasped, he couldn’t believe the pure pleasure he was in at the moment.

Shane pulled off, Scott’s pants and started to give Scott a blow job, Shane’s head was like a basketball going up and down.

Scott was moaning, then Shane’s arm went up and reached Scott’s chest and started to play with one of Scott’s nipples.

Scott was a moaning mess as Shane continued, Scott felt himself reaching his climax.

“I’m…gonna” Scott good barley speak as Shane was very good at what he was doing so he didn’t stop, Scott hit his climax and shot his load down Shane’s throat.

Which Shane swallowed and got up and looked at Scott was panting heavily “First time with a sex demon?” Scott couldn’t even speak he just nodded.

“I think it will be best to end our session here…don’t want to fuck you to death” Shane walked over to the door “I’ll let you get dressed, hope you had a good time.”

[oharapussy]

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?”

another spiderdads x reader fic, this time miguel’s birthday 🙏🏼🙏🏼

as always minors dni!

“lyla, what does miguel want for his birthday?” you asked, her tiny frame facing her back to you.

peter had sent you on this mission weeks before, knowing you wouldn’t crack miguel so easily. he was a private person: he wouldn’t like a party, or any big show of it. each time you asked him, he shrugged you off, as if there wasn’t time to entertain such a question. lyla was perhaps the only one who would know, and as she was constantly, silently, conspiring against him, she took great pleasure in what you had asked.

“miguel was very intentional in how i was programmed,” she pouted. “i’m not supposed to entertain those kinds of questions.”

“come on,” you pressed, curious. she rolled her eyes, screens instantly materializing around her.

“i’ll cross-reference his search history on his downtime with his online shopping carts,” she said, tapping away. “he doesn’t keep these private from m-“

oh.

you both instantly froze at what appeared on the screens, both video and text.

“guy pegged with strap-on”

“girl and guy tagteam friend”

“brunette top fucks bear stupid”

“best vibrators for beginner anal play”

oh my fucking god.

“well… there you go,” lyla said, flickering away in an instant, leaving you in the darkness of your office.

you weren’t sure what to tell peter.

—

miguel came back from the gym late at night, beads of sweat still trickling at his hairline. discarding his things at the kitchen counter, he made his way to his bedroom. a mix of curiosity and lust bubbled in his stomach: you both had been dropping hints at him all day. it had started with a pair of panties lazily hanging against his desk, building up to the new, state-of-the-art vibrator now lying on his bed, still in its packaging.

taking him by surprise, you wrapped your arms around his waist, kissing his neck. peter followed, holding his jaw and pulling him into a kiss, full and long. he whined softly against the attack, almost melting against the touch.

“happy birthday, migi,” peter said, smiling into the kiss. in a swift move, he pushed miguel against the bed, his cock already hard and twitching in his sweats. “now take your fucking pants off.”

with your help, his dick burst from his pants within a few seconds, his tip wet, desperate to fuck something.

“god, you’re pathetic, already so fucking hard for us, baby,” you teased. he twitched at the insult, hips grinding against nothing. “well, what do you say? want us to fuck you dumb, honey?”

“please,” he whined. the poor thing had been in charge for so long, he hardly knew how to be so submissive.

peter sat with his back against the bed’s headboard, legs wide to accommodate miguel’s broad shoulders. he let out soft moans as miguel reached ever-closer to the base of his cock, gasping against the new pressure in his throat. peter’s hands were in the tangle of his hair, calling him pretty names all the while. from behind, you had finally worked the strap around your hips.

“how bad do you want this dick?” you bullied, grinding it into his thigh. reaching in front, you circled the tip of his dick with his fingers, really getting him going.

“just fuck me already, mamí, please,” he cried out, pulling his mouth from peter. he bucked his hips backward, almost trying to catch your tip.

steadying his hips with your hands, you pushed into his hole, causing him to cry out with such an intensity, you feared you would wake his neighbors. kissing his wide back, you rubbed his stomach, helping him accommodate the size, before beginning to pump it inside him.

the rutting motion caused him to sink deeper onto peter, making both the men gasp and whine in a way that you had never seen before. why hadn’t you done this sooner?

“good boy, honey,” peter managed, looking at how close he was, highly-evident in his face.

blissed out of his mind, he came some moments later, cock weeping and grinding into the sheets for relief. pushing him past it, you began to hit that sweet spot inside him even harder. you didn’t think it was possible for someone to cum so much. by the end, he was a complete whimpering mess, only capable of begging to be fucked.

[herejusttosufferalong]

(Re: About Joe Alwyn, Similarities with Nic, and Acquaintance with Luke Thompson)

Response to your shock about Ratty Healy : Hahaha as a swiftie myself I SIDE-EYED tay so hard when she had her rebound with him, like gurl he's nasty and disgusting with all of his past troubling behaviors no matter how sweet he might appear to you.

If you wanna know a glimpse of JoeTay relationship, it was officially started in September 2016 and ended in early April 2023.

They first met at Gigi's bday party (April 29th 2016, References: High Infidelity-Midnights, Gorgeous-Reputation, Dress-Reputation), then met gala (May 1st). She previously and was still dating Calvin Harris- long story short he was a D, she wanted to leave him. I didn't know what prevented things to go further between her and Joe but in met gala she also met Tom Hiddleston and danced together. They had a brief getaway car moment or rebound (Getaway car-Reputation), officially known to public from June to September.

Then Joe and Tay started their relationship on September 28th (Ref: September - Cover by TSwift).

2016-2017 was the hell of year for Tay because of the whole Kanye Kim drama and lies. The whole world turned their back on her and she was at the lowest point of her life. She disappeared for a year then came back with a new album Reputation released in 2017.

Albums that give us many insights about her life and love story with Joe are : Reputation 2017, Lover 2019, Folklore 2020, Evermore 2020, Midnights 2022, The Tortured Poets Department: The Anthology 2024.

He had part of writing and producing some songs with Tay in Folklore, Evermore, and Midnights in the pseudonym of William Bowery.

In TTPD, songs about Joe are So long London, I Can Do It With a Broken Heart, loml, The Black Dog, How Did it End, and Peter.

I'm sad when people have to refer Joe only as Taylor Swift's Ex. He's a talented, low profile, and private actor. He's rarely active in SM. (Alwyn keeps his personal life private, which he described as a "knee-jerk response to the culture we live in". GQ labelled Alwyn a "notoriously low-key actor".)

Alongside with Paul Mescal, he is one the male leads of Sally Rooney Novel Adaptations. Paul in Normal People and Joe in Conversation with Friends. (I really would like Nic to have a project with him. Maybe another Sally Rooney adaptation would be great😭 *manifesting*)

Some of his projects are The Favourite (2018), Boy Erased (2018), Mary Queen of Scots (2018), Harriet (2019), The Last Letter from Your Lover (2021), Stars at Noon (2022), Catherine Called Birdy (2022), Conversation with Friends (2022), Kind of Kindness (2024), TBA projects: The Brutalist and Hamlet.

He is also friends with Lukey T. He ever talked about him in interview.

Similar with Nic, he is very vocal about activist/social movements and always stood on the right side of history. Nic came from her background as an Irish people and her late Dad with his humanity and military works to keep peace in middle east. Joe family also has deep connection to activism, particularly in Palestine, his late great uncle is a peace activist and patron of the Palestinian solidarity campaign. And both are private about their personal lives. But Joe is really silent and not chronically online as Nic.

I just love when Nic has so many connections and fully booked. She deserves it. And I would like the same things to happen to Luke too. They both deserve the best to not put their talent in waste. I wish my parents all the best.

DAMN ANON

Are you on his payroll????

No but seriously thank you for sharing 💜

I know nothing about the guy but I have seen multiple movies listed above with him in it

Will have to rewatch and check out some of his other work 🥃

[t-lostinworlds]

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

》 PAIRING: peter parker x avenger/secret agent female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: friends to lovers; fake dating-ish; fluff

》 SUMMARY: You're a trained spy, Peter was not. But you two ended up on a mission together where he was needed to be less of the chatty superhero in red & blue tights and more of a debonair undercover agent in a suit & tie. It shouldn't be too difficult, right? No mask, no web shooters. Just you and him pretending to be fiancés, hiding and making out in a closet to avoid getting caught—simple. Unless he included his overgrowing feelings for you, of course.

》 WARNINGS: peter being down bad & horny™️ for r (my fave genre of peter by the looks of it), slight self-deprecating peter, pet names (darling, my love, babe, angel), peter x suit x glasses (a dangerous combo), mediocre spy-ish stuff, canon typical violence (i.e. guns, knives, fighting, ass-kicking), slight jealousy/possessiveness (both parties), slight pettiness from r, closet make-out, little peter got excited (idk why i said it like that lmao it’s just a boner), cuddling w/ boob grab (not sexual lol).

》 WORD COUNT: 21.3k+ (is anyone still surprised)

✘ MOODBOARD

A/N: this idea has been in my drafts since sept or oct 2020? I think? basically i plotted this a decade ago a.k.a this happens after Endgame but before...anything else (NWH who? lol) this is more an alternate universe tho. i honestly have no idea how i feel about this but i did enjoy writing it. a pretty tame, fun lil spy au fic so nothing groundbreaking sksks anyways! i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

The sun rays that leaked through Peter's bedroom window tickled his eyelids, making them flutter open as he yawned.

A tired smile curled on his lips as he buried his nose into his pillow. It was rather comforting, hearing the faint chirping of birds, the soft rustle of the tree just outside his room, and hell, even the chants in the far-off distance of people training.

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, and Peter really liked that.

To top it off, summer had just begun, so no college work to worry about in the meantime. He was finally having a much-needed break from obligation and responsibilities—well, not entirely since the superhero gig didn't really have actual breaks. But he was hopeful that today was a quiet day, at least.

There were plenty of activities that could take up his whole day. He could start with a morning run around the large stretch of land, maybe pack up some breakfast and eat it by the lake, located at the edge of the area. He didn't mean to sound like some guru, but he could really use being one with nature for a little bit. Maybe he could meet his friends for lunch if any of them were free, or maybe he could spend the afternoon relaxing by the compound's private pool—

"Good morning, Peter."

Peter jumped with a squeak, limbs tangling with his sheets, making him fall off the bed with a loud thud. Groaning, he slowly sat up on the floor, rubbing the back of his head to soothe it.

That was certainly one way to get the sleep out of your system.

"Emergency meeting in conference room A-One in ten minutes."

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

It was still a bit odd hearing the A.I. as an alarm early in the morning most of the time. She was certainly very helpful though. From scheduling to reminders, simple google searches to more complicated equation-solving whenever he would need help.

FRIDAY was like the compound's own Alexa but much, much more advanced. Well, she certainly wasn't meant to be used as such but nobody could truly blame him for not taking the perks for granted.

And there were a lot of perks living in the place—the Avenger's compound, to be specific—and despite being here for almost a year now, Peter still hadn't gotten used to its extravagance, much less exhausted all its resources.

It was a drastic change from the little apartment where he and May used to live, and he wasn't talking about the size alone.

She was living with Happy now, Peter visiting over for dinner whenever he could. She was a bit reluctant to let him move out at first. It was expected when they'd practically been living together for a good chunk of his life. But he was grown now, so wanting to dabble into independence shouldn't come off as a surprise.

Sure, it was more him being available and closer to saving the world type of independence, but independence, nonetheless.

Plus, Peter simply wanted to give them as much privacy as he could.

Happy and May were like teenagers in love and the things he heard despite the thick walls thanks to his enhanced abilities…he'd rather not think about it. His super hearing definitely helped in making the decision.

He still hadn't stopped patrolling New York, of course. If it was a quiet day on earth—more so, the universe—he still swung about the city, stopping any petty crime he would come across. But when an Avenger's level threat would arise, Peter was now only a couple of doors down, equipped and ready to join the mission.

It was difficult to juggle: his normal life, attending college, being Spider-Man on top of being an official Avenger.

Nonetheless, Peter wouldn't have it any other way.

Maybe it was because he enjoyed the thrill of taking the superhero gig to the next level. Or maybe it was because he was granted the opportunity to live lavishly in the compound. Maybe it was the sheer feeling of accomplishment and pride to be able to save the world. 

Or maybe it was because he got to see you every day.

You, who Peter has an insanely huge crush—no, who he really, really liked.

He might even go as far as to say that he was falling for you.

The two of you had moved in at the same time.

He could still vividly remember how he'd just placed the last box on his bed when the building shook. He peered out his window to see what the commotion was about, just in time to catch the Quinjet landing on the well-kept grass. His brows had furrowed in curiosity when the door opened, watching Sam and Bucky come out first, then a third figure trailing right behind them.

Peter didn't really believe in love at first sight, but God did it feel like that when he first saw you.

Okay, maybe it wasn't exactly love—or maybe it was, who knows—but he really couldn't deny how intrigued he was of you, intimidated even. And that was when you walked into the common room in simple jeans and a pink hoodie.

He swooned the minute you smiled at him when you introduced yourself, his knees wobbling the minute you shook his hand.

It was later on that he found out that you were a former (more like forced) member of HYDRA, abducted at a young age, trained to be one of their elite spies, and brainwashed to do their bidding. Which was why it made so much sense how the one and only Bucky Barnes had a soft spot for you—quite surprising for someone who was known to be a huge grump.

You actually came from Wakanda that day, to erase whatever it was HYDRA planted into your brain. Now, you were a recruit on the team, willing to do good with the skills you now had.

You and Peter were around the same age—part of the young ones, as Bucky pointed out—so it didn't really take long for you to become friends.

Well, a friend he kept ridiculously fawning over, a friend who made his heart race whenever you were nearby, a friend who Peter didn't really want to remain as such.

He was thankful though, being your friend was better than being no one to you at all.

But still, it was difficult to suppress his feelings, especially when you were one of, if not, the sweetest and kindest person Peter had the pleasure of knowing.

Whenever he would stumble into the compound late at night, all badly beaten and bruised, somehow, you'd be the only one awake, helping him up to his own room where you'd then clean his wounds for him.

The first night it happened, you had said FRIDAY alerted you of his presence. You had rushed as fast as you could when the A.I. mentioned he was injured. After that, it simply became a routine for you both.

It was like an unspoken rule around the compound, how you were always the one who'd patch Peter up after missions—unless you weren't present, of course. There were even a handful of occasions where Peter would be the one patching you up, a rare instance where he'd be home from campus while you'd come back from an intense mission that rewarded you with fresh bruises and cuts.

He was convinced you were simply being nice to him, though. You did consider him as your friend and you were kind enough to help with an ailment or two. You were such a caring person overall. He was sure if it was any other person, you'd do the same. So, Peter wasn't exactly special in that regard.

But then you got assigned to help him train every weekend, which only made his overgrowing crush for you, well, grow some more.

It was a new requirement for recruits, learning how to fight without much use of technology.

From the wise words of the new captain: Gadgets and tech should be there as extra sets of tools, not as a replacement for your arms and limbs. If you rely on them too much, they're going to become crutches.

Bucky stared at Sam funnily at that—since his vibranium arm was both a tool and a replacement of his limb—but everyone got what he meant. Being able to take down bad guys with only your bare hands was definitely more helpful than not.

Peter didn't know if someone was secretly spying on him, or had overheard him gushing about you to Harley—or if said friend himself had ratted him out—that led to the two of you being paired together.

Bucky said that you were the best woman for the job to help improve hand-to-hand combat or overall fighting skills. You'd been training since you were young after all, and that was saying something. Peter was probably still learning his additions and subtractions while you had already mastered the art of jiu jitsu. Wanda added that the two of you were already close hence why you got paired together, simply to skip through that awkward phase of introductions.

Peter had a feeling the two were playing matchmaker. But he chose to ignore it.

Either way, it certainly didn't help his predicament.

Being so close to you in that regard, with you wearing those tight leggings and tank tops, grunting and sweating, your bodies getting tangled and just…yeah.

Training with you was enough to make his head—both heads, if being honest, but he'll keep the other one to himself—explode.

You were incredible.

So it didn't take much for him to get distracted by you during your sessions, either.

More often than not, Peter would find himself watching you in awe rather than trying to dodge your punches. You called him out on it a few times, and each time he'd turn pink, the tint on his skin turning darker when you'd order him to do push-ups as a means to discipline. You were strict at times, but he was still so lucky that you were also being patient with him when he couldn't get it quite right the first few times. Although, you being in command and in control only added to his endless list of things he was swooning over you for.

It was admirable the way you would have him so out of breath after a spar and he was the one with superpowers. You were being smart with it, tactical with the when, where and how to hit rather than just throwing a punch for the sake of it. You'd dance around him, gracefully, swiftly, strongly, each move precisely choreographed to outmatch him as if you'd already looked into the future to know what he was going to do next.

Peter was a goner the minute you pinned him down on the floor for the tenth time in that one session.

He didn't know if it was the smug smirk on your face, your knees on either side of his hips, the way you had his hands above his head, or everything all at once. But Peter's blood was definitely boiling with every touch, rushing up to his brain that quickly turned it to mush—or maybe it was rushing down. He really couldn't tell where the pulsing was coming from. If it was his heart or some other organ that gets filled with blood.

By then, he couldn't stop thinking about you, couldn't stop talking about you, head over heels like he was living and breathing for you.

Ned and Harley said it was an obsession at this point but in his defense, you were way out of his league.

And he hadn't even taken into account how you felt about him.

Sometimes, Peter would have an inkling that his feelings were reciprocated. With the way you'd smile at him, the way you'd say sweet things to him, and the lingering touches from time to time, how could he not?

But, what if that was his rose-colored glasses making them seem like something they're not? Was it truly acts of affection and adoration or was it Peter's brain just romanticizing the shit out of simple kind gestures done for a friend?

Then came the thought that you were sweet and kind to everyone. It was just who you are, a ray of sunshine through and through—a ray of sunshine that could kick your ass ten times over but still. He'd rather not give himself too much hope. It was safer to assume that you were only seeing and treating him as a friend and nothing more.

Besides, it was too far-fetched, someone like you feeling something for someone like him.

You'd walk down a hallway with your head held high, while Peter would keep his eyes trained on the tiles. You'd stare your enemy down with no hesitation, your presence commanding, threatening, both words and actions carrying that certain chill that would make anyone second guess crossing you. While Peter would dance around them to avoid proper confrontation, going for silly jokes and sarcastic quips to mask any nervousness he would sometimes feel.

You're one hell of a powerful, strong woman and that's without any enhancements or superpowers involved.

While Peter…well, he's just your dorky, other times clumsy, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man.

As he said, you were way, way, way out of his league.

So he really couldn't do much but admire you from afar—or up close, but discreetly—until he would grow the extra set of balls needed to actually do something about his feelings for you, especially with the possible outcome of rejection.

He'd like to believe he'd grown quite a bit of confidence after entering college. It was a slow progress but he did manage to break out of his shell. With the number of parties Harry Osborn had managed to drag him into, how could he not? He was quite glad that now, he was able to talk to pretty girls without much stuttering and blushing involved.

But somehow when it was you in front of him, he would suddenly revert to his old high school self again. His cheeks would either be red or pink, barely able to get his words out as he would sometimes stare at you for longer than he should, all awestruck and dazed with admiration.

Peter's point was painfully proven right once again when he saw you down the hallway.

You were wearing black leggings and a black tank top along with your favorite running shoes. It was your usual getup whenever you would train or workout. Yet no matter how many times Peter had seen you in them before, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat. It was nothing fancy at all, but God did it look stunning on you.

It was mostly unconscious, and well, his rational brain did sometimes take a backseat when it comes to you. But his eyes drifted over your body, from your exposed shoulders to your collarbones, flitting momentarily on your chest, before they went to your legs, your tight leggings leaving so little to his imagination as they hugged your thighs. He tried to move his gaze back up to look at you more appropriately but simply got stuck on your hips. There was a slight sway in them as you walked—in slow motion, he was sure of it—with such confidence, and the way you held yourself with power and poise was breathtaking.

Shit. Did the AC malfunction? Why is it suddenly so hot—

"Hi, Pete."

Your voice snapped him out of his stupor. But your bright, beautiful eyes and your so-goddamn-pretty smile all while you stood right in front of him was more than enough to have him swooning again.

"H-Hey," he squeaked, painfully aware of how hot his cheeks had gotten. Add the fact that he hadn't been out under the sun much, he was sure you could see how pink it was. That knowledge alone probably made it a shade darker. Then came the fleeting thought that you might've caught him practically eyeing you up—

He quickly cleared his throat, keeping his head down to hide his blush as he opened the door to the conference room.

"After you."

"Thank you," you hummed, reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm before you moved past him.

It took a lot for his knees not to wobble at the gesture, even more, when he caught a whiff of your shampoo…or was that your perfume? But if you had just gone on a morning run and taken a shower—no, that wasn't your body wash. You didn't look like you'd just got out of the shower, so maybe it was just your scent. God, you always smell so nice.

"Holy—get your shit together man," he grumbled to himself, hastily wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans, fixing up his hair before entering the conference room.

It was relatively empty—well, the whole compound was given that the rest of the Avengers weren't at headquarters in the meantime, caught in other obligations whether personal or otherwise. The only other person in the room was Wanda, sitting across from you.

"Pete," you called, tapping the chair beside you before he could even choose a seat to take. There were plenty of vacant ones. Trying to calm his raging heart, he walked over to your side and sat down. But each beat only grew faster when you tilted your head at him with a smile. "Did you go on a run this morning?"

"Oh—uh, no, not yet," he said, trying his best to keep his eyes on yours rather than let them wander, like…down your lips. Shrugging to seem unbothered, he added, "FRIDAY announced the meeting just when I woke up."

"I haven't either," you hummed. So, it was just your scent earlier, the same one that was filling up his nostrils now as you leaned a little closer to him. "Maybe we can go—"

"Another day, another robbery," Sam cut you off as he and Bucky entered the room.

You moved away from him then, leaning back on your seat, attention now on the captain. An unconscious frown made its way onto his lips, because yes, he was slightly—greatly—annoyed at the interruption.

"Only this time, it calls for a national emergency," Bucky added, taking the seat next to Wanda.

"Global, if we don't stop it in time," Sam sighed, connecting a flash drive to one of the USB ports installed on the table.

"Oh no, did they steal the president's nudes?" Peter joked, immediately shrinking in his seat when the two men shot him a look. "Sorry, sorry, bad joke and definitely not the time—I'll shut up."

"That was funny," you whispered, flashing him a smile and Peter's face immediately burned. He wasn't given much time to respond when Sam cleared his throat.

"As much as that would be horrifying, it's something much worse." He pressed a button on the table that made the hologram come to life. There was only one item shown, a rectangular, gold-colored device, probably the size of a credit card but thicker by half an inch. Sam pointed at it and said, "The Gold Codes."

"The Gold Codes?" Peter muttered, brows furrowed in confusion.

"The president's nuclear launch codes," you answered, always willing to help him out on things he wasn't too well versed on.

"Oh." Peter nodded, smiling at you appreciatively before his face fell, eyes widening in realization. "Oh. That's definitely worse than his nudes."

You laughed, and it made Peter's heart do flips.

"And of course, its partner, the nuclear football. But instead of it being a whole briefcase, it's been reduced to this—" Sam flicked through the hologram, a black device coming up beside the gold codes. It looked like a plain external hard drive, roughly the same size as a pocketbook. It wasn't that big so it was definitely easy to carry around and, by the looks of it, easier to steal.

"Technology advancing sometimes isn't the best," Bucky grumbled.

You sat straighter in your seat, forearms resting on the table as you eyed the devices. There was a furrow between your brows, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

You turned to Sam after a moment and asked, "Don't they change the codes every day?"

"Yes, but as our hundred-year-old resident said, technology is advancing so the card automatically syncs up to any changes made," Sam explained.

"That's the stupidest thing ever," Wanda scoffed.

Peter nodded in agreement. "Why did these even get stolen in the first place?"

"The one who was carrying the nuclear football was a double agent," Bucky said.

"Classic," you scoffed. "And have we found where it is?"

Sam nodded at Bucky, the super soldier rummaging around a bag that Peter just noticed he brought with them. He slid across a black envelope with gold detailing, your brows furrowing as you took it in your hand.

"Oh wow, an invitation to a charity gala tonight at The Aces," you gushed, scanning through the glossy, black paper before you turned to look at Peter. You probably saw the confused look he wore because you offered him a sweet smile before explaining, "It's one of the fanciest ballrooms in New York, most of the galas they hold are very exclusive for the rich and the rich-rich, like filthy 'I can end world hunger but I'm an asshole so I won't' rich."

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

"I got you." You bumped his shoulder with a wink, which quickly made him blush.

"But it's a smokescreen," Sam continued. "The real party happens later in the night."

"That's what she said," Bucky interrupted enthusiastically, earning a heavy eye roll from Sam and laughs from you and Wanda. The technically old man looked around the room. "What? Did I say the joke wrong?"

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

"As I was saying, they're holding a black market auction later in the night in the small underground theater a floor beneath the building." Sam continued, swiping up the hologram until it showed a floorplan of a theater along with a couple of photos of high-tech armor, guns, and a whole bunch of things Peter couldn't exactly name. What stood out the most to him, though, was the logos: Stark Industries, Oscorp, Pym Technologies, Sable International, and the likes. "Stolen technology and weapons being sold to anyone who has the money to buy them."

"So, it's like the dark web, but fancier," Wanda quipped.

"Stealing items and then selling them to the highest bidder," Peter hummed. "Sounds like the British."

You snorted, quickly covering your mouth when everyone turned to you with raised brows.

"Sorry," you mumbled, kicking him under the table playfully, probably as a warning to stop making you laugh. Peter only grinned proudly in response. He always felt proud whenever he made you laugh.

"Anyway, the nuclear football is easier to find. It's locked in a room along with the other items they're planning on selling," Sam started, flicking through the hologram to show a floor plan of the whole building. He circled the large room in the middle before tracing a pathway leading up to another, much smaller room. "It's located on the east wing, right side of the main ballroom. It has double doors so you wouldn't miss it, especially with the armed guards."

"And the card?" Peter asked.

"Would be much more difficult to retrieve. It's going to be with the person who orchestrated this whole thing. The problem is—"

"You don't know who it is," you finished.

Sam nodded grimly. "Whoever is the mastermind of this grand scheme has been quite good at maintaining anonymity. The only time they're going to reveal themselves, along with the codes, is during the secret auction, which you can't get into unless you're chosen to be there."

"If you think the gala was exclusive, the auction is on a different scale," Bucky explained.

"We don't know what code or secret handshake will be needed to be able to attend the auction. Our best course of action is to attend the gala, scope the scene, and hopefully, get intel on how to join the auction without much breaking and entering involved," Sam said. "I had Harley tap into the security system of the building and guess what?"

"You found an even bigger problem," you and Peter said at the same time.

Sam nodded. "The whole building is now armed with sensors fit to detect every single Avenger's superpower, any Stark-grade weapons and also, vibranium. Bucky's metal arm, Wanda's magic, my wings, so on and so forth. Neither of us could simply swoop in because the second those silent sensors go off, or any commotion will start, poof goes the codes along with our criminal."

Bucky shifted in his seat. "Even if we discard all of that and try not to use it, going in there as, quote-on-quote civilians won't work either because—"

"Everyone would immediately recognize who we are," Wanda finished.

"Since there are only two people here whose faces aren't known publicly"—Sam looked between the two of you—"Peter and Y/N, you two are going to be the ones to retrieve the codes and the football."

"W-What?" Peter choked, eyes wide as he stared at the captain. "Don't they have my powers in the sensors?"

"They only have it for your web shooters and suit, and as far as I know, both are detachable."

"But that's me, that's how I operate," he stammered. Going out there as himself wasn't part of his skill set. He'd feel too exposed without his suit. Not to mention he was going with you. Which of course wasn't a bad thing at all but it only added this pressure to not mess things up. He couldn't live with himself if he'd fail this mission, fail you—or worse, have you get hurt because he wasn't capable enough. "How am I supposed to be Spider-Man without those?"

"You have to give yourself more credit, Pete," you said, placing your hand over his own, the one resting on his thigh. Peter's eyes followed your touch before he met your gaze again, his blush prominent, heart thumping so loud he was scared you might hear it. "You're more than just a suit. And you need to remember how you've managed to make your synthetic web in the first place. So I'm sure you'll do fine with your brain alone. Even then, you still have other abilities, and you have me."

Peter looked at you fondly, a smile curling on his lips as he turned his hand so your palm was over his, squeezing it to silently say thank you. He wasn't even aware of what he was doing, not until he saw your smile turn slightly shy. It was the quick glimmer in your eyes that made him realize he was absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

"Seconded." Wanda smiled at the two of you, chuckling when you and Peter jumped slightly away from each other. You pulled your hand away, Peter frowning at the loss of contact. But he shook his head, turning his focus back on the mission.

"Y/N here also said you'd gotten really good at your hand-to-hand combat skills," Bucky said, an all-knowing smile on his face as he glanced between you two. "So, I don't think you'd need your web shooters as much if ever it comes to a fight."

"Which we hope won't result in that," Sam quickly added with a reassuring nod. "The plan is simple: scope and mingle, assess the scene, try and get some information as to how to get into the auction. Once you've done that, sneak into the vault to retrieve the nuclear football. I've already assigned Harley to make a duplicate device to swap with the real one so it won't trigger the alarm.

"Then, you sit at the auction and wait until the codes come up. I'm sure it will be presented by the anonymous seller so by then, we will be able to put a face on the mastermind. Our agents should already be blocking every single exit of the building by that time so all you have to do is to retrieve the code calmly. Try and ease your way into the main stage, charm and persuade, or whichever way works. Any more questions?"

You and Peter looked at each other, before you both turned to Sam, shaking your heads.

"Good. We've already set your fake identities up, google searches running for miles, the last thing we need are photos, together, individually, candid and professional which would only take a few minutes. Your fake names are already on the guest list, your outfits and everything else you need will be waiting for you at the hotel you're getting ready at as part of the whole ruse," he instructed. "You two are the best and only shot we've got in this. Plan your moves wisely and rely on each other. We can't afford to lose those codes."

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

Peter had never been in one this expensive-looking before.

It had its own living room, a minibar, a huge bathroom, a king-size bed, and then a massive window that overlooked New York City. He definitely indulged himself with their complimentary champagne, and given the fact that he couldn't get drunk, he mostly did it for the taste—which was flavored expensive, to those wondering. Hell, even the chocolate they had tasted expensive.

Then again, the two of you were undercover as a rich, engaged couple so it was part of the whole thing. You never know whose eyes and ears were for who in these types of missions.

But still, it was quite the treat and he'd be stupid not to make the most of it—without getting too distracted, of course.

Peter was now all suited up, not in spandex this time. It was a crisp, black, formal suit made with fabric he wouldn't dare guess the cost and a brand he couldn't even begin to pronounce. He had a white dress shirt underneath, paired with a black tie. The one he was currently having a hard time doing as he stood in front of the floor-length mirror in the living room.

He groaned in frustration when he once again messed it up. He didn't wear this kind of clothes often, so he really didn't have much of a reason to learn to master the art of…tying?

"Need help?"

Peter turned around, the breath knocked out of him once he saw you come out of the bedroom.

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

It was an off-shoulder, long-sleeved dress, your arms covered in lace as the fabric hugged your figure. The skirt was long as it fanned onto the floor with a really high slit on your right leg to show off the silver heels you were wearing. Your hair and make-up were done to marry the whole style, all while enhancing your natural features rather than covering them. Your red-painted lips though—

"Wow."

"Yeah," you laughed softly, your gaze falling over yourself as your hands smoothed the fabric of your dress. "I don't know who picked it but it's really pretty and it fits really nicely. Perks of having body scans for our suits, I suppose."

"You look beautiful," Peter breathed out, still frozen in his place as he stared at you in absolute awe.

"Thank you," you said, your sweet smile turning into a smirk as you eyed him up and down with a nod. "You clean up nice, too, Parker."

"Oh—uhm, t-thanks." He blushed, shaking his head before gesturing both hands at you. "But you, I—wow, you look, wow."

"Shut up," you laughed, your dress flowing as you moved closer to him. "Here, let me."

Peter wasn't even given much time to recompose himself when you once again took his breath away by simply standing so close to him. Every inhale was just filled with your scent, his heart skipping a few beats as he scanned your face, only a couple inches from his and God did you look even more beautiful up close.

His blush deepened when you reached for his tie, your brows furrowed in that adorable way he'd come to familiarize as you slowly did it for him.

Peter honestly didn't know what to do with his hands, yet there was some sort of pull that he couldn't resist, like an instinct as he gently rested them on your waist. He was distracted by how close you were, but not enough to miss the way your breath hitched at the contact. Testing the waters, he squeezed it gently, biting his cheek to stop his smile from growing when he saw your fingers falter.

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

You shook your head, finishing up his tie with a smile. It was Peter's breath that hitched this time when you smoothed it over his chest, your palms flat against the muscle, touch so sweet, skin so warm. You looked up, your smile faltering when your eyes met his.

He didn't know how long you stared at each other. He also didn't know who moved a little closer first, but he definitely wasn't complaining. Not when he was so close that he could count exactly how many eyelashes you had. And he gladly would've if your voice hadn't snapped him out of the trance that nobody could ever put him under but you.

"We should get going," you whispered, but you still lingered for a few more seconds, more than enough for his brain to run its course, thinking that maybe, his feelings for you weren't as unrequited as he thought.

It was the sound of a beeping alarm that broke you two apart.

"Come on, we can't be late," you said after a breath, flashing him a sweet smile before going to grab your things.

"Wait," he cleared his throat, patting around his pockets before finally retrieving a velvet box. You turned around just as he'd opened it, showing you the ring that resided inside.

Your eyes widened, lips opening and closing as you gawked at the sparkling diamond for a few seconds before you met his gaze. "Peter—"

"Oh shit! It's not what it looks like!" he panicked.

Peter did always find himself daydreaming about you often, and he would be lying if he said he hadn't already pictured something similar to this moment. But even he could recognize how many steps he'd basically jumped over by showing you a diamond ring. And as much as he would love to fast-forward to that part, he'd also like to take you out on a date first. Well, if he'd even get the courage to ask you that, anyway. 

"I-uh, you know, us, covering as an engaged couple? So, of course, uhm, you'll need an engagement ring?"

"O-Oh," you fumbled, nodding quickly before you offered him your left hand. "Yeah, of course."

Peter took it in his delicately, fingers running over your knuckles before he carefully slipped the ring on. Squeezing your hand, he reluctantly let go. 

"Did you pick this?" you asked, bringing your hand up to your face, fingers wiggling as you admired the ring.

Peter nodded. "Yeah, I did—well, Bucky helped."

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

Your eyes snapped up to look at him, your smile growing as you hummed, "Charmer."

"It's the expensive suit." He shrugged, a teasing grin with a blush to match.

You laughed that lovely laugh of yours, adoration and pride swelling in his chest.

"Oh, Harley asked me to give you this," you said after a moment, pulling out a familiar pair of glasses before handing it to him. "He said it's all you need to do your magic."

"Nah, it's just a little tool kit I put together, really, kinda like a small computer so nothing magical about it," he chuckled, waving the glasses before putting them on. "It's carbon-based nanotech, passable through metal detectors. I've managed to look up what security system they had installed in the safe and there's sort of a minicomputer inside so it should be easy to bypass the system. I already have the program in here that would run through all the probable security codes so all I need to do is activate the glasses and it would automatically unscrew everything and connect to a hopefully pre-existing female micro-USB slot with the male counterpart in this old thing and—" he paused, face heating up as you gazed at him with a twinkle in your eyes. "What?"

"Nothing, just—you're amazing," you sighed, smile widening before you nodded. "Let's go?"

Peter ignored that way his whole body tingled at your praise and offered you his arm.

Not like it was a new reaction whenever he was around you, anyway.

"Let's."

•••

"Mr. Reid, the car is already waiting for you."

That was the first sentence Peter heard when you reached the hotel lobby. He looked behind him before looking at the man in a suit, pointing at himself in confusion.

"I'm not—"

"Lucas, honey, come on," you cut him off, slipping your fingers in his. You flashed him a knowing smile, squeezing his hand before you tugged him along as you followed the guy.

Right. Fake identities.

"Woah." Peter gawked at the car in front of him, leaning closer to you as he whispered, "Is that a Rolls Royce? Like, the new one?"

"Sort of. It's the Phantom Extended." You nodded with an amused smile. "The best way to blend in with the rich, don't you think?"

Peter was about to open the door for you but then the butler—at least, he assumed that was who he was—beat him to it. So, he opted on helping you with your dress instead, making sure it didn't get caught on anything as you settled inside.

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

Peter luckily didn't slip on the expensive lambswool floor mat as he got into his seat.

It's pretend. Get a grip.

Once the car started moving, you pressed a button on the center console, the clear glass that separated the front and back immediately turning into an opaque white, completely secluding the two of you from the driver. He looked at you curiously, nervous—okay, and maybe a bit excited—as to why you decided you suddenly needed privacy. Peter had heard a lot of stories about what goes on in the rear cabin of expensive cars, especially with the partition up, so could it be—

"Did you get to read about our fake identities? The one Sam sent?"

Thinking with the wrong head again, aren't we, Parker?

"I, uhm, no, got too preoccupied with the ring and getting dressed," he admitted, looking at you guiltily. The mission had barely started and he was already messing it up. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, no, it's okay," you reassured with a smile, hand on his thigh, squeezing for good measure. He wasn't able to relish in the warmth of your touch for long as you shifted in your seat, turning around to face him. "I mean, everything is very last minute. I'll just tell you about it.

"Lucas Reid, the young 26-year-old and dashing CEO of Reid Enterprises. You inherited the company at nineteen when your father died of illness," you started.

Peter scrunched his nose. "So, basically, I'm a trust fund baby?"

"Sort of, but you do prove that you did the work," you said. "Company sales skyrocketed when you took the seat."

"What about you?" Peter gestured at your ring, blushing. "Well, apart from being my fiancée."

"I run my own fashion company." You shrugged, winking at him as you added, "Can't be living in my future husband's shadow now, can we?"

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

He shook his head, hands rubbing on his thighs. "Do we have a backstory? Like, as a couple?"

"Not much. Five years ago, we met in Milan during fashion week—"

"Let me guess, sparks flew right off the bat?" he chuckled.

"Love at first sight, obviously," you scoffed, rolling your eyes teasingly.

Not too far off from reality.

"Besides that, it's all the basics from there. Dates, extravagant gifts, and then two months ago, you proposed."

"Right," he started, bumping your knee with his lightly. "So, when's the wedding?"

You laughed, "We're not sure yet. Too busy."

"Of course," Peter sighed, rolling his eyes playfully. "Can't get me out of my office, now can you?"

"I have my ways," you hummed, wiggling your brows at him.

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

"You always do," he chuckled shyly, shaking his head before smiling at you. "Can we go over the plan real quick?"

You smiled. "Of course."

Peter knew what to do, obviously. He'd already gone over the plan probably a hundred times in his head. But he simply wanted to make sure he wasn't missing anything, especially something that could potentially jeopardize the whole mission. He couldn't afford even one single misstep, not when you and your safety could be put at risk—and the millions around the world that would suffer if those weapons got into the wrong hand, of course.

"We're almost there," you said once you've gone over the plans twice, eyes scanning across the windows. "It's just on the next turn."

Peter's heart quickened.

He didn't even notice that his emotions had gone evident on his face. Not until you squeezed his arm.

"You okay?" you asked, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course," he said quite unconvincingly. It was when he heard the ticking of the turn signal did his nerves shift to overdrive, his eyes wide as they met yours. "Shit, I don't think I can do this. I mean, I'm not usually out there with my face showing, you know? And I'm so so so not James Bond, I'm the farthest from James Bond I'm like, Lame Bond. I'm not smooth o-or charming or suave enough to be a spy—oh no. No, no, no, what if they find me out right away? I'm going to mess everything up and this is going to go horribly wrong and—"

"Hey!" you interjected, hands cupping his face, squishing his cheeks slightly as you pulled him closer, eyes boring into his with determination. Peter didn't know if it was the proximity that shut him up, or if it was your scent that overpowered his senses—probably both. "You're going to be fine. You've got this."

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

You smiled reassuringly, thumbs brushing over his cheeks, his skin turning redder with each caress. "Be observant, you don't have to talk. With this kind of crowd, trust me, the quiet ones are the most intimidating. If there's anything you feel like it's a bit off, trust your gut, and let me know, okay?"

"Okay," he breathed out, nuzzling into your palm absentmindedly, finding a sense of comfort from your warm touch.

"And if it gets overwhelming, just follow my lead."

•••

Peter got out of the car, nodding curtly with a tightlipped smile at the driver who opened the door for him.

He decided at the last minute that Lucas Reid was going to be a stoic, passively quiet CEO with a resting 'serious' face that only means business.

Peter straightened up his suit before he offered you his hand, the huge rock on your finger glinting underneath the city lights as your palm met his.

He gently guided you out of the car, helping you fix up your dress before offering you his arm. Your fingers curled around his bicep as you kissed his cheek with a soft thanks. Peter smiled at you warmly, pulling you closer to his side as you made your way inside the building.

Stoic and passive except towards his lovely fiancée, of course.

He might or might not have stumbled upon a few Mobster Spider-Man fanfictions on some website not too long ago. And he might or might not have taken some inspiration from it.

"Please take a basket to put your phones and any other electronic devices in and step under the detectors one by one," one guard instructed.

Adjusting his glasses, he pulled out his newly upgraded phone. It was sponsored by the Avengers obviously since he couldn't exactly rock up with his old, cracked one, with him being rich and everything. He smiled at the lock screen photo—it was of you and him, your lips pressed against his cheek, taken just a couple of hours ago to have photos to make this engaged couple gimmick believable—before he placed it in the basket you were holding up for him.

You smiled reassuringly before you stepped under the metal detector first, Peter following just closely after.

He let out a nervous breath when he saw how heavily armed the guards were. A variation of M17s and a couple of AK-47s were in the hands of fully uniformed men from head to toe. They look like your typical SWAT team, but Peter knew they were more dangerous than that, especially when their morals were as corrupted as he'd presumed.

He was an enhanced superhero, yes, but he sure as hell wasn't bulletproof. And as much as he could probably dodge a few shots, he would rather not take the gamble of finding out exactly how many he could avoid.

That wasn't what he was worried about, though. Because as he felt your fingers slip back into his, he was reminded of how vulnerable and defenseless you were. No superpowers, no bulletproof vests, still an amazing badass who without a doubt could take on two guys in a fight and win, but still a human who could get badly hurt by a simple pull of a trigger.

There were only so many bullets he could jump in front of you for.

"We're going to be fine," you whispered, squeezing his hand as if you could sense his worry. "I got your six."

Peter squeezed back. "And I've got yours."

The two of you stayed close to each other, arms linked as you headed towards the ballroom. But once the huge archway came into sight, you leaned closer to him.

"You go ahead," you whispered in his ear, squeezing his bicep. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Peter nodded.

He knew that some agents had already hidden some of your equipment hours before. Well, he hoped they successfully did, anyway. If not, then, you both might have to compromise.

Peter didn't know what exactly he was expecting when he entered the ballroom but it definitely wasn't as fancy as this.

The ballroom was grandiose in itself with its ornate marble columns and crown moldings, complementing the beautifully impressive murals that covered the ceilings. Even the red curtains that draped along the walls seemed far too luxurious for the mere fact that they were curtains for crying out loud.

Peter had never seen so many chandeliers hanging all in one space, not to mention, ones that seemed to be decked out in gold and crystals…or were those diamonds?

Everything was decorated with a color scheme of cream, black, silver, and gold, from the round tables and accompanying chairs. To contrast were various glass structures illuminated by some kind of light as they glinted and shimmered even from the corner of his eye. There was an open bar in one corner, a long table of finger foods and various desserts, and live music coming from the string quartet on a rotating, circular stage right in the center of a—is that an indoor fountain?

"Wow," you gasped as you appeared beside him, your eyes twinkling underneath the chandeliers. "It's gorgeous."

"Yeah," Peter sighed, eyes trained on the way your face glowed in awe as you admired the space. "Gorgeous."

Your smile brightened as you tilted your head, gaze meeting his. Then, your brows furrowed, stepping in front of him and eyeing the top of his head. "Come here. I need to fix up your hair."

Peter ducked his head without question, hands around your waist as he let you settle the mess of his windswept curls. He found the furrow of your brows absolutely adorable, but the way your tongue slightly poked out of your red lips made him want to just pull you in and kiss you senseless.

You tucked a few short strands behind his ear, gently pressing your thumb into his concha, the earpiece fitting snugly before he heard a faint crackle and then a deep voice.

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

He heard a few snickers in the background followed by Sam scoffing sarcastically.

"My, aren't you two cute."

Peter's brows furrowed, confused eyes meeting yours. "What does he mean?"

"I answered the same way," you giggled, shrugging as you smoothed over his tie and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

"We'll be on the line listening. Be discreet. Only communicate what's necessary."

You and Peter shot each other a look, grins widening into a knowing smirk.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

The line went quiet, presumably Sam muting their end until further notice.

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now. 

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry. 

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated. 

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you. 

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them. 

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet. 

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[strawhatkia]

sundress season.

INCLUDES ! 1610!miles and hobie brown x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! they see you in a sundress for the first time

WARNINGS ! character and reader are not together...yet!,

WORD COUNT ! 0.6k

A/N ! the way this was suppose to be the whole spider crew plus miguel and i got tired not even half way through....this just gon be a lil tester but this is getting deleted and revamped later !

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

MAIN MASTERLIST | SPIDER VERSE MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊🌻🖌✧ SPIDER-MILES !

i cannot fathom to you how flustered this boy gets on a regular day when y'all really not doing anything. the boy already really likes how you look in your regular uniform or just casual street clothes so when rio and jeff invite you over for the carne asada/cookout and you popped in a sundress of all things, he kinda doesn't know how to act.

oh, and his parents find it absolutely hilarious. this is really the time where him being jeff's son and aaron's nephew really shines through. he's awkward about it and can't seem to get through any of his sentences.

he really likes the way it fits you and the color compliments you well but he has such a hard time for like a good 30 minutes. eventually, aaron comes to save him and gives him a tip of going to get some drinks for the both of you and take you somewhere private to talk.

not to mention, his whole family thinks you two are too cute for words and takes every chance to mention how much of a good couple you two make. once you come back over to get something to eat, you are bombarded by multiple family members. miles is definitely nervously laughing to get through the embarrassment of all them making the most outlandish comments and gave up after the 4th tia said how lucky he is to have you.

— ☾⋆⁺₊🎸🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿 ✧ HOBIE BROWN !

this is literally the world's boldest man ever, he truly don't give a fuck whose watching. you were actually in the middle of a block party when you were called to debrief about a mission. not to be bothered to put on your suit (especially since peter b. walks around in a pink robe of all things), you step through the portal in your sundress and sandals.

certainly not the first time hq has seen you out of uniform but the sundress has you grabbing compliments left and right from all the spider people present (even miguel, which was surprising). it would be hobie to see you last though. he was originally talking to pav who was rambling on about his recent date with gayatri again when he catches a glimpse of you pass by to go into the meeting room with miguel and jessica.

now in my eyes, hobie immediately tunes out of pav's conversation at once to focus all of his attention on you and makes the split decision to follow you in there. it's not like jessica will care enough to kick him out and he does not care what miguel has to say. quite frankly, the man only sees you at the moment and that doesn't even catch up to him until he's right in front of you.

then in the thickest accent possible, he flirts endlessly throughout the entire meeting. the man has no sense of personal space around his friends and it's only ten times worse with you. hanging off your shoulders, wrapping his long arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder while hugging from behind. you do your best to acknowledge, because ignoring him will not work and only make it worse, but to also get through the meeting.

it's easy to chalk it up as hobie being a physical person but there's only so much to explain the way he feels up on the material of the dress, making comments that make you feel like you're blushing and distract from whatever miguel was saying before he gave up and just told you to come in later. without hobie.

leaving the meeting was easier than staying in it but now you gotta deal with a very cocky spiderman that is doing his absolute best to talk you into coming back to his dimension. (pav is watching from a distance with a bag of popcorn, squealing over how many of his friends are having romance novel moments)

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

wanna read more ??

check back later !

taglist: @mypimpademia @cosmiles @megurulvr @dreampurpledreams

[mrs3vil]

𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐕 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙢 “𝙝𝙤𝙩“ ★

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐟. gabriel o'hara, miguel o'hara, peter b parker ❞ 🎀

𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 with gabriel o'hara I had to insert him. also this is not smut or sexual (i mean technically it kinda is but whatever) only tws, old men and flustered spider people. also gabriel is kinda ooc ����*◞🎻

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨��𝐞 tried to keep the reader as gender neutral as possible! sorry of there are any specifications, also sorry for any mistakes but english isn't my first language!! 𓈒*◞🎻

𝗚𝗔𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗟 𝗢’𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔

He thought you were talking about another Gabriel O'hara at first. You were mindlessly talking on the phone with one of your "spider friends" while walking right next to his private lab, loudly enough so that he could hear. He stopped doing whatever he was doing for a moment, moving his goofy goggles on his forehead. His heart beated faster against his chest, as if it was about to destroy his rib cage and come out just for you. It was the only thing on his mind for a few days, how your voice shaped perfectly those words, he would do anything to be called such things by you again. Now that he knew you liked him back, he was much more confident when awkwardly flirting with you.

𝗠𝗜𝗚𝗨𝗘𝗟 𝗢’𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗔

He couldn't believe his ears. He's been "flirting" with you for some months, if of course, you consider being treated like a normal human being with feelings and opinions a flirt. He thought you weren't really interested, when really you just didn't even realize he was being "extra nice" to you, or at least, his idea of extra nice. But you had to admit, he wasn't bad looking, he wasn't at all actually he was hot, and apparently you were happy to admit it to Jess too. He swallowed as he leaned closer to the core of your voices, paying attention to staying hidden. He didn't know why he was being so dramatic about it, he felt like a little school girl, but suddenly, he desperately wanted to hear you praise him again.

𝗣𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗕 𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗥

It immediately boosted his ego, a proud grin spreading across his features, finally his terrible dad jokes paid off. He listened carefully as you talked with one of the many Spiderwomen that were friends with you as you two giggled like to little girls at a pijama party. You started complimenting things he never realized about himself, and he couldn't do anything but lean closer to hear further how hot you thought he was. He could have listened for hours, if only he didn't trip on a wandering peace of paper that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. Your eyes widened, your hands reaching to cover your mouth, trying to hide your red face. "Hello..."

‧₊˚ ୨ HAHAKS im sorry if i didn't include hobie i just didn't have any inspiration for him today :( if yall liked this post tho i could include him in a pt 2 or smth. also reblogs and comments are very appreciated! goodnight and stay safe babes <3

[thefairywithboots]

I'm Gonna Crawl (Robert Plant x Fem!OC)

Hello! So this is the final instalment of Robert and Evanna's story. For now anyway. I needed to give these two a resolution, as they were taking up all of my thoughts and I could not rest until I finished the story. I hope you've enjoyed reading them as much as I've enjoyed writing them.

Summary: Takes place in early 1970. A week after Robert recklessly confessed his love for Evanna and immediately withdrew, Evanna decides that she is going to go back home once the North American leg of the tour is over. Realizing that he made a huge mistake, Robert is willing to crawl on his hands and knees to convince her to stay.

Rating: Explicit 18+ minors please dni

Warnings: Angst, smut, vanilla sex, Robert crawling on his knees like a lost puppy. This is actually pretty cheesy but I had fun writing it so I regret nothing.

@bijouxcarys @ourshadowstallerthanoursoul @jimmysdragonsuit13

@callmethehunter @firethatgrewsolow @brownskinsugarplum76

@m-faithfull @dzdndcnfsd @friccinfricks @starstruckfangirlsposts

@elliotts-personal-property @jimmypage7 @teaforqne @chromations @n0quart3r

@tangerine1969

If you want to be tagged for any future Robert Plant fics, feel free to let me know.

~~

Evanna had spent enough of her time crying. She had made her mind up to go back home once Led Zeppelin's North American leg of the tour was over. She had intentionally distanced herself from Robert, locking herself in her room after every show, refusing to attend the after-parties.

She had felt so stupid. So weak. Every time she had attempted to set boundaries between them, she fell right back into his bed, allowing him into her even deeper than before. What did she expect, getting involved with a rock star? Sure, Robert was a lot more quiet and reserved than other singers in the rock scene, but he was still a rock star. An unbelievably gorgeous man who had women throwing themselves at his feet. He couldn't be hers, regardless of their reckless declarations of love in the heat of the moment.

Evanna was in the middle of packing her suitcase when there was a knock on her door. Thinking that it must be Peter to give her her pay, she went to the door to glance out the peephole. Instead, Robert's fluffy blond head was magnified before her. She sighed.

After putting the chain on, she cracked open the door.

"Hey..."

Robert seemed surprised that she was putting so much distance between them.

"Hey. Can we talk?" he asked while keeping his eyes to the ground, as if afraid that she might say no.

"About what?"

"About last week... I wanted to apologize."

Evanna leaned against the door, closing her eyes as she shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, Robert. We were both very emotional... and high."

But she knew that it wasn't the marijuana they had smoked that caused her to ache for his embrace. She had felt this way for months. It was naive of her to feel this way. Robert had made it clear from the beginning that he did not want anything more than nights of mindless fucking. But his idea of mindlessness was to hold her close and give her intoxicating kisses. To press his forehead against hers as he thrust slowly into her. To embrace her afterwards, and listen to her lament about how she never felt this satisfied with her ex.

And it wasn't even just the sex that made her attached to him. Robert was just easy to be around. She liked talking to him and opening up to him. She liked listening to him talk. Gods, she loved the sound of his voice.

It was impossible to share this much with him and not get attached.

Robert leaned against the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as if he longed to reach in and touch her. "Yes, darling, I do. I had been reckless and stupid... can I just come in and talk to you in private? I promise we won't..." He stopped himself. Any promise made that they would keep their hands to themselves would be in vain. There was no guarantee of that. They both knew it.

Evanna was about to say "no" and close the door on him, but Robert's eyes were wide and pleading. Her heart ached at the thought of him feeling rejected. She closed the door, only to take the chain off, and open it for him to enter.

Once he slid in quietly, he leaned against the wall. He glanced at the bed, almost as if out of habit, and noticed her packed suitcase. A frown came across his face.

"Are you going somewhere?"

She closed and locked the door, sliding the chain back in place. "Yes. Tomorrow is the last night of the North American leg of the tour. I'll be flying back to New York."

Robert's blond head whipped around to face her, his blue eyes seeming to be in a state of panic. "What!? But... I thought you were coming to Europe with us..."

Evanna shook her head. "I'll have to turn these photos in for the magazine to publish." She gestured towards the envelope of photographs that she had spent all afternoon in a dark room getting developed.

"But Peter had hired you for the full tour!" He was trying yet failing to sound calm.

"I already talked to him about it. He understood and agreed to pay me for the work that I've already done." She turned to face him and immediately averted her eyes when she saw that he was close to tears. Her heart ached in her chest.

"You're leaving because of me, aren't you?" His voice was quiet and quivering.

She kept her eyes on the ground. She couldn't deny it. If she had not gotten involved with him and inevitably fell in love with him, she could have continued to travel with the band and photographed the rest of the tour. If he had not muttered those three words after fucking her last week, maybe she could look at him and hear his voice without feeling her heart being torn apart. There was no way to avoid him. No way to not feel the music make its way into her soul and plant itself in her heart. And it killed her because she knew that he could never be hers; that he didn't want to be.

"I can't keep doing this, Robert..."

Robert reached for her hands to take into his. "Evanna..." That had been the first time since he had said her full name all week. "Please... don't go..."

She pulled her hands away and turned to look out the window at the sun setting over the city.

"I'm sorry. I know what I said was really stupid and reckless. It was just—"

Evanna cut him off, knowing that this would most likely be her last night with him, so what did she have to lose? "I'm in love with you, Robert."

He went silent, stunned by her bluntness.

She waited for his response. Waited for him to admit that he meant what he had muttered into her neck last week after all.

When he remained silent, she turned back to her suitcase. Robert's hand closed over her wrist before she could clasp it shut. She looked up at him as he was trying to pull her to his chest.

"Robert, stop..."

"Please... please don't leave me..."

She shook her head, placing her hands on his chest and trying to push him away. "No! I'm not going to be something for you to stick your dick into in between groupies!"

Robert shook his head, his brow furrowed in frustration. "I don't want anyone else! I don't want any groupies! Haven't you noticed that you're the only woman that I have been with for the past four months!?"

She tried to remember the last time she had seen him acknowledge a groupie's advances. He had blown everyone off when she was around, seeming to forget about the existence of any other woman.

"That can change..." she said, sounding unsure now.

He kept hold of her hands, trying to pull her into his arms but she kept pulling away. "No. You're the only one who actually cared about me outside of my fame and my body. Everyone else just wanted to shag and then leave..."

Evanna spun around to face him. "That's what you've been saying that you wanted all this time!"

Robert used this as an opportunity to cup her face in his hands. Evanna wanted to melt like putty right there but came to her senses and pushed his hands away.

"It's not enough! I need you!" His hands moved to her waist, and she was about to push him away again before he dropped to his knees and buried his face into her stomach.

"Robert- what the hell are you doing?" It wasn't like him to put himself underneath her. Not outside of bed anyway.

"Stay. Please. I need you more than you think."

She attempted to push his head away but he clung to her like a child clinging to his mother's skirts. This would be arousing if he weren't being so stubborn.

"Robert, look at me." He raised his head to meet her eyes. Evanna took a deep breath before explaining; "I'm not staying because I know you don't want to commit to me."

"I will," he said while taking her hands into his and looking up at her. "I'll only be yours. I promise. If not forever, then at least for the rest of the tour. I can't bear the idea of you leaving. Evanna, I love you."

Evanna felt her heart clench in her chest. He had told her that he loved her. And it wasn't in the aftermath of sex when their emotions were on high.

Robert continued hugging her around her waist, burying his face into her abdomen. She was so shocked, she couldn't push him away. He loves me. Did he really mean that? Or is it just a way to get me to stay? Geoffrey would say things like that to try and control her, and then leave immediately after getting what he wanted.

Robert wasn't Geoffrey though. She knew better than to make that comparison.

Robert pushed up her shirt to expose a small part of her stomach and planted soft kisses on the exposed skin. Evanna shivered slightly and could feel the heat pooling between her thighs. Robert seemed to be able to sense this because he began kissing lower.

She let out a gasp. "Oh shit— Robert, no. Not tonight." She pushed his head away and quickly made her way to the bathroom before she could end up with her legs wrapped around his neck.

She was in the process of collecting all of the hotel shampoo bottles to pack away like she always did when she saw him crawling across the floor toward the bathroom.

Evanna stared down at him when he stopped at her feet to kneel there like a lost puppy.

"You look pathetic," she told him.

He rolled onto his back to stare up her skirt. She quickly pulled her skirt down as far as it would go - she felt stupid for wearing something so short today - before backing away and sitting down on the toilet.

Robert rolled back onto all fours and crawled towards her, the desperation in his eyes apparent. "You make me this way. You've made me this way for months, ever since you joined the tour, committed to that fucking wanker who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as you—" She gasped when he nudged his head against her legs, before rubbing against her, his hair tickling her skin. "—and now that I've gotten a taste of you, I can't stay away. I can't keep away from you."

He nudged her knees with his head until her muscles defied what her brain was telling them to do and spread for him. He took this opportunity to pull her into his lap on the bathroom floor, adjusting her legs to straddle him. She became highly aware that she was sitting on his cock and the feeling of him hardening through his jeans only increased the heat that was pooling in her center.

Robert closed his eyes before slowly bringing his lips to softly caress hers. She didn't object or try to push him away this time. She returned the kiss, deepening it from a gentle caress to something more hungry and desperate.

She moaned when their tongues met, and found herself unconsciously grinding her hips down, not realizing what she was doing until she felt the delicious friction of their clothed centers rubbing against one another.

"Oh my god..." she moaned while clutching onto his hair.

"See what you do to me, baby?"

She huffed indignantly but was unable to stop her hips from rolling against his.

He kissed her again, deeper and more lovingly than he ever had before, gently placing his hands on her hips as if he were holding something sacred and precious. Her hands wound through his golden mane as she opened her mouth for him, allowing his tongue to enter.

His kisses were intoxicating to her. Evanna felt her head spinning the longer they remained lost in the kiss. When they eventually had to pull away for air, he pressed nibbling kisses to her neck and down her chest.

Evanna managed to wrench away from his grasp long enough to stumble out of the bathroom towards her suitcase where her pills were packed away in the front pocket. Robert crawled out of the bathroom towards her, working his hands up her legs to the insides of her thighs. She yelped when she felt his skilled fingers circle her clothed clit.

"F-fucking hell-!" she moaned, falling backward, letting him catch her and lowering her onto his lap again. She quickly popped the pill into her mouth before he reached his hands up her skirt to slide her knickers off, the air feeling cool against her soaked and hot core. Evanna wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the floor and laid her down on the bed.

His hands shot out to hold hers in place as she reached to remove the rest of her clothes. She sighed heavily as he slowly and torturously began undressing her. He started with her shirt, leaving trails of kisses as he pulled the fabric away from her skin.

When he had discarded her shirt and skirt, he seemed annoyed by the lacy-padded bra that was covering her breasts. He tsked before leaning down to tug on the straps with his teeth.

The feeling of his mouth and breath on her skin was almost too much for her to bear. She tried wriggling out of her bra quicker to feel his mouth and tongue on her breasts but he kept her firmly pinned to the mattress.

He loomed over her, his hair creating a golden curtain around them. "Look at me."

There wasn't much else she could do; he was pressing his forehead against hers, practically forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"I meant what I said. I love you." He took her hand and placed it under his shirt and over his heart. It was beating hard against her palm. "You feel that?" When she nodded, he leaned in to kiss her again. "It belongs to you."

She felt tears burning in her eyes. Robert pulled back to look at her. "Am I hurting you?"

Evanna shook her head and pulled Robert back down to her, holding him as tightly as she could as if afraid that he would drift away again if she let him go. Their mouths meld together once more before he reached underneath her to unclasp her bra and toss it on the floor along with the rest of her clothes.

"I love you," she breathed against his lips. "I've always loved you. And I'll always be yours—ah!" She cried out when he ground his hips against hers. He was still fully clothed and the feeling of the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against her naked core caused her to tremble underneath him. "I'll always be yours... even... when we're... apart... oh god, just fuck me already!" She reached for the clasp on his belt, undoing it and then undoing the buttons on his trousers.

Robert didn't bother holding her in place this time. He instead planted kisses down her neck and towards her breasts, taking her nipples into his mouth as she frantically undressed him.

He helped her lift his shirt over his head, which she immediately began kissing down his neck and to his chest as he shimmied out of his tight trousers, his hard cock springing free. He let out a groan, leaning back against the headboard and pulling her on top of him.

As he adjusted her legs over to straddle him, he pulled her closer, resting his forehead against hers as she felt the full length of his hard cock against her.

"Evanna, please..." he moaned as she rocked her hips against his.

She slid her damp folds over his length, lust clouding her brain as pleasure shot through her. The sound of him moaning her name, and enunciating every syllable never got old. "Please what?"

He wound his hands through her thick red hair and held her head to his. "Promise me you'll stay with me. Please. I can't... bear the thought of losing you..." He groaned again as she sat down on his cock, the feeling of him pulsing against her making her want to take him completely inside her. He kissed her again, his mouth hot against hers as their tongues met. "Promise me. If not forever, then at least be mine for the rest of the tour." The idea of letting her go at all killed him on the inside, but if it meant getting to hold onto her for longer, then he was willing to risk the heartache.

Evanna ran her hands over his shoulders and wound through his hair to kiss him again. "I promise..."

He kissed her back passionately before gripping her hips to adjust himself at her entrance. She was so wet, he slid easily into her, the feeling of being filled so completely overwhelming her. She gasped as their bodies melded together, becoming one. He grunted as he buried his face into her neck, adjusting to the feeling of her tightness engulfing him.

Despite her being on top of him, he still controlled the rhythm in which they moved. He thrust upwards into her, causing her to let out a sharp moan. His thrusts started slow and deep, and she quickly matched his pace as she moved over top of him, the sensation of him filling her causing every nerve in her body to ignite.

Their movements were agonizingly slow. He continued his slow thrusts, going deeper with each stroke. She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt the tip of his cock brush against her cervix.

He took her face into his hands and held her firmly. "Look at me." When she opened her eyes, he took her hands and placed them over his chest. "Don't close your eyes. I want to see them when you come."

She gasped as she kept moving over top of his cock, running her hands over the light bit of hair on his chest. He took one of her hands and placed it over where his heart was. He leaned back and slid his hands down to her hips, guiding her rhythm as she moved in time with each of his upward thrusts.

Evanna wasn't used to being on top, but the rhythm was so slow and sensual, that she found herself moving easily in time with him. Robert was whispering words of encouragement to her as he slid a hand from her hip down to massage her swollen clit.

Her back arched sharply at the sharp sting of pleasure that ricocheted through her.

"You like that?" he grunted.

Another sharp moan escaped her throat. "Yes!"

He guided her other hand to her clit.

"Fuck, Robert— what are you doing..."

"Touch yourself while riding me."

She felt her entire body flush. "What...?"

"Do it."

She let him guide her hand to the desired motions over her clit. When she finally had the hang of it, he moved both hands to grip her arse, pumping himself into her as deep as he could.

Evanna kept massaging her clit in time with each of his thrusts, her moans getting louder with each stroke. As the pace of his thrusts became quicker, so did the pace of her masturbation.

The grip on her hips loosened and he let her bounce her hips more freely. Evanna gasped and started bouncing faster on top of him, now completely controlling the rhythm. Robert pushed her hand away and placed his thumb firmly over her clit and started massaging it in time with her movements. The sharp sensation of pleasure was so intense for her, that it didn't take long for her to reach her peak. Her back arched as she threw her head back, her fiery hair cascading down her back. He groaned as she clenched around him, her body convulsing as he kept plunging into her.

After coming hard around his dick, Evanna panted as she leaned down and press her chest against his, the tackiness of their sweaty bodies causing them to stick together. He buried his face into her hair, inhaling deeply before rolling her over onto her back and pulling out of her.

Evanna lay there for a moment, basking in the afterglow of her orgasm before she felt something firm press against her swollen clitoris. When she opened her eyes, she saw Robert kneeling between her legs, massaging the tip of his still-erect cock against her soaked and swollen bud.

He was far from finished with her.

"Robert—what are you—"

He shushed her before slowly sliding into her again, pulling out, massaging his tip against her nub, and sliding back in, deeper than before.

"Oh fuck! Please, Robert!"

He kept a firm grip on her legs as he loomed over her, his chain necklaces dangling in front of her face.

"Look at me."

She stared up into his beautiful face. He leaned down over her, his long blond hair creating a curtain around her face so that she could look nowhere but into his eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered. He pressed his forehead to hers. "The way your mouth opens each time I go in." He thrust into her sharply, causing her to cry out and cling to him, digging her nails into his back. "The way your eyes plead with me when I know you want more." Another sharp thrust. "And the way your back arches when I hit that right spot inside you."  He angled his hips to go in as deep as possible. Evanna screamed in ecstasy, her back arching just like he predicted it would.

While keeping up his deep, deliberate thrusts, Robert took this opportunity to cup her breasts and put them in his mouth. Evanna wound her hands through his hair and clenched her legs tight around his waist as the thrusts sped up into a terrifying pace, the sound of their skin slapping against each other and the bed creaking so loud, it was undoubtedly heard by everyone on the floor.

"Robert, I—fuck!" Her body convulsed as she came a second time, her back arching sharply off the bed. Robert kissed up her chest, sucking and kissing each of her nipples, as he tugged them into taut points.

He kissed and nibbled up her neck, leaving crescent-shaped bite marks on her skin, something she knew she'd have to cover up later.

Or not. Maybe she would want everyone to know she belonged to him.

He sped up the pace of his thrusts, and she could tell by the tightening of his balls and his quickening breath that he was getting close.

She watched him closely as he sped towards his climax. He was so beautiful at that moment. He was always beautiful but seeing him so vulnerable in his ecstasy made him look ethereal. His lids were heavy and his eyes glazed over with lust. She loved the way his face scrunched up right before he released everything he had inside of her. The way he would whimper as he buried his face in her neck as he pumped his hips to milk himself into her.

She let his release seep deep into her as he collapsed on top of her in exhaustion. She wrapped her arms around him, panting heavily as they both lay there in an exhausted, sweaty heap of limbs on the bed.

"Holy shit," she breathed as she stared up at the ceiling.

He groaned into her neck. "Going a week without this made me insane..." He lifted himself off of her, slowly pulling himself out of her. "I hope that changed your feelings about leaving..."

Evanna waited until he was lying on his back before rolling onto her side and resting her head on his chest, right over his heart as she listened to his heartbeat steadily calm back down. She ran her fingers idly over the hair on his chest and stomach. She felt his arms wrap around her as he held her in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"I'll stay," she whispered, never wanting to leave his arms, never wanting to leave the place on his chest. Never wanting to leave his heart. "I'll stay as long as you want me to."

Robert pulled the hotel comforter over them both and wrapped his arms tighter around her before kissing her on the forehead, the gentleness making her feel wanted and loved. His warmth and steady beating of his heart lulled her into a sated and peaceful doze. "Darling," he whispered. "If I had my way, that would be forever."

[enbysiriusblack]

thinking about marauders going to a public school and not being roommates <3

james and sirius finding each other in first year and never seperating. they play football and rugby together because james loves them. hangs out with caradoc, edgar, benjy, amos, and hestia jones. they're like the popular/jock group. they throw parties a lot, at james' mostly, play on the field during breaks, are all mostly straight.

peter is one of those music/art students that spend breaks in the music or art classrooms with a few friends. hangs out with pandora, xenophilius, and marlene. they smoke weed and are always carrying instruments or canvas' around. very openly queer. always at school for events, or just because they don't wanna go home (sirius privately hangs out with them after school sometimes due to that).

remus hangs out with lily. sometimes dorcas joins them. they spend breaks in the library or in their favourite english literature teacher's classroom. they mostly read and make fun of other people. they doodle on the board sometimes. doesn't really talk to other people unless they have to in class, and not part of any extracurriculars.

[starlordcumidk]

New Kind of Love

~chapter 1~

word count: 3.2k

notes: slight ooc, reader wears glasses, this is an AU of TASM!Peter where he is a fraternity brother. reader is portrayed as rude/stand-offish. reader is a tad neurodivergent. playful banter. please read this knowing that i am a newer author and the plot is based on a song.

warnings: not proofread, minor cursing? does that count?

Enough of "Love Lite"

And "I Can't Believe It's Not Love!"

Monday, October 21st, 2024.

School started back up eight weeks ago, frat, sorority, club rushs and event posters making anyones head spin. There were at least forty parties that happened just in the first six weeks of school, none you attended. Right now, the school was setting up for their next pep rally, big decorations all over the place, even in Siebert’s courtyard. 

Empire State University was known for its largely populated campus, even for a private school. Truly, the scholarships they offered were the biggest reason anyone was able to go. Those from out of state were even encouraged with extra offers, you included. 

You have been living rather normally, even with the hussle and bustle through the dorm halls every night, your favorite being the RA catching the girl down the hall with two gallon size ziplocs with coke and her boyfriend naked in the hall in the middle of September. 

It was refreshing, almost. Being back in New York always puts an extra pep in your step, especially after a very long, very hot, very southern summer spent back at your parents house. Not only was it over one-hundred and five degrees most days, the humidity was consistently breaking the ninety percent mark.

Even though you weren’t as lucky this year with housing and got the road facing room, six floors up— with a broken elevator nonetheless– you were comfortable. The room was decorated meticulously, just the way you liked it. Warm lighting from lamps, the big light never on, a rotary fan at the foot of your bed. Perfect.

The cool seventy degree weather was a welcome breeze as you opened the window, allowing yourself to get the dry, definitely polluted air into your lungs. Looking down at the road, even though it was nowhere near as beautiful as the courtyard, filled you with excitement every single time. It was a beautiful swarm of colors, bright jackets and scarves creating a moving mural with the fresh morning sun.

I missed this. The thought floods your senses as you feel your first genuine chill of the year.

This was home. Being surrounded by tall buildings, loud and awful people, hagglers and one very fit red-blue spandex hero, was comforting. Back home, there were no heroes to swoop in if you were threatened. Spider-Man was always a welcome guest, and you’ve definitely seen more of him these past few months than before. 

Maybe your paranoia was bad, but the idea of a sticky-gross-web man sweeping in and saving you made those thoughts calm down. Even if you thought the idea of being part spider was less than exciting. 

It was Monday, all of your aggravating and mundane classes were scheduled for this morning. It took effort to get dressed and go to your first lecture, but eventually you did.

As you walked across campus, you messaged back and forth with your close friend who still lived in your home state, so many thousands of miles away. 

Delilah: girl u have to go out and make more friends. i’m tired of being your only one. you: you know that isn’t happening right now. people find me too abrasive and that makes it hard enough as is. Delilah: ok well maybe be nice to people babe ? you: ehhhh not really my thing but maybe i’ll try for you < 33 Delilah: u better !!!!!! Delilah: hugs n kisses < 333 i gtg, reed is here you: it’s not even 9am so idk how you’re already at it with him… have a good day lilah.

You shake your head at the quick interaction and feel a moment of missing her before shoving your phone back into your pocket and taking a deep breath. Opening Dr. Howards lecture doors and seeing that you’re the first to show again, a small smile graces your lips as you make your way to your seat. 

It’s not long until the small, bubbly, blonde seventy-year-old woman walks in, big binders and a mug in hand. Following her are more of the students, none of which you know or care to know. You look away for a few minutes to gather you notebook and pencil to scribble nonsense notes to try and dissect later. 

And the lecture begins. 

—--------------

Peter, frankly, was over everything. He was the one who had to organize where people would be sleeping, how they’d fit into the chapter house and he even had to argue with the stupid underclassmen asking why he was the one with a private bathroom. Being in a frat was tiring, he was only here for the scholarship and housing opportunity. 

It was always the same, but luckily this was his last year he had to be involved with it. 

After this year, his bacholers in hand, he could just worry about graduate school. Everyone and everything outside of bioengineering and Spider-Man would wash off of him. His hands clean and life lonely, just as he liked it to be- with the exception of May. 

Even if one fleeting conversation leaves him enamored with the wrinkle of your nose, the way it caused the inner corners of your eyes to crease. He hadn’t been this way since highschool, it was scary and unwelcomed. Something he’d rather kill off and walk away from, but every day in the courtyard or the times you happened to be on the Q train at the same time as him, the weird adrenaline rush would light him on fire.

Mondays, Wednesdays and select Fridays were the worst. He was sure of it. 

Environmental Managment, a dumb class, but he took it to get his credit hours up, hoping to balance out his GPA…. Somehow, you were here too. Almost like a curse, he has to look at you from the back row of the class, the closest seat to the back entrance. You sat alone, front and center of the lecture hall. You were always there on time, which urged him to be too, it gave him extra time to stare. Even with this, he was never sure of your name.

—--------------

The teacher was droning on about some mudslide somewhere in California, babbling about the random effects it had on the surrounding citizens, the heavy rain that caused it. Your pencil was etching into the paper lazily with each slide. 

A small timer went off which indicated the end of class, but before you could react there was a loud clap and Dr. Howards mic was turned on. She only used it for important announcements or when the frat boys in the back wouldn’t shut up. 

“So, this semester is going really well. Many of you are keeping your grades and positivity up! But, we still need to discuss our final exam.”

A symphony of deep groans sound from the back, you feel your eye twitch at it. 

“Thank you, boys.” A pause and a glare, “Anyways, I have decided your final will be a presentation on a hypothetical scenario. In groups of two, that I assign, you and your partner will have to decide on a catastrophic event, it can be any of the ones we have discussed or any you find in your books. After picking the event, choose the setting, it can be close to home or even Australia, just make it realistic. No monsoons in New York. You two must decide how devastating it is and how the community will recover. The groups are in the class Canvas. Take care! Go Otters! Excelsior!” She closes her laptop and is out of the room before anyone can complain about her groupings.

You are quick to start thinking over ideas, most of which are tornado-centered. You’ve never experienced one, but the movie Twister was a classic at home when you were little. Quickly, you write down some ideas, tornadoes, hurricanes, mudslides…. 

You pack your books away and look into the list the professor had composed on your phone, scrolling through too many names before your gaze lands on yours next to… oh no.

Peter Parker. 

You feel dumb for a moment, you hadn’t realized he was in this course let alone the same exact class as you. Turning around to look for him, it’s hard. The cluster of bodies was too big to just be pairs discussing their ideas.

Then, your eyes meet a messy mop of brown, leaning over a laptop and the same sweater from back in summer all the way in the back. You feel nervous just looking at him, but you swallow the hard lump and start towards him. Of course he’d be all the way in the back, surrounded by sport and frat bro’s. 

With a deep breath, you tap on his shoulder. It causes him to jump, and for a moment he looks as nervous as you feel, but it disappears quickly and is replaced with a smile. 

“Hey, I know you.” Peter says it with a warm tone.

“Yep. Uhm… we were partnered for the project?” You say it coolly, staring down at him.

“Ah- so that's who you are, huh?” He tilts his head, slowly shutting his beat up laptop and leaning back in his chair. He says your name a few times under his breath, as if reciting it to himself. 

“Uh-huh….” You nod, something weird stirring in your stomach at the timbre he uses when whispering your name to himself. “So, what days are we meeting for this thing?” 

“Uh- we could use the free period on whatever days you want. As long as it isn’t at night, I have a job.” He shrugs, looking up at you and his smile falters. 

“Monday, Wednesday and Friday it is then.” You decide, grabbing the paper you scribbled ideas on and hand it to him.

He takes it and looks it over, his brows furrowed for a moment before looking back up to you. “We can’t meet today, but if you give me your number I’ll look these over and text you.” He is so soft spoken compared to the other frat guys around you, it is almost shocking.

“You have my school email. Use that.” You shrug, your tone almost rude as you speak. “Sorry, I mean- just email me about it and we can talk Wednesday….” It’s kinder this time, but the tone correction feels embarrassing.

“Oh- okay. Sure thing.” He nods and starts to gather his things around, looking you over before slinging his backpack over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but notice the skateboard sticking out from it. “See you then.” He says your name then he is gone, quickly leaving to go wherever he needed to be.

—-------------- <pbparker@empire.edu 

Sent at 2:27pm 10/21/2024

Let's do the hurricane and Louisiana idea. Meet me at the library at 12:30. 

Peter B. Parker

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—--------------

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2024

You walk into the library, your eyes scanning the large area. Peter and you had agreed to meet on the first floor for ease of finding one another, but he hadn’t specified if he was at a table, a computer or in a private study room. You groan at the fact you never asked for any more specifics.

The building had three levels, ground floor was all peer-reviewed journals, textbooks, anything that was used for research and could be ran through scribbr for essays, the middle floor was dedicated to fiction and had very limited stock, only a few of the books were actually worth a read, the top floor was just old archives, nothing that was allowed to leave the library. 

It was a very tall, circular shape. Each floor visible from the entrance, glass sidings and the small tables or armchairs pressed against them. Red and gold quotes painted along the walls. Your personal favorite was by Madame Curie, it was directly above the checkout desk.

"One never notices what has been done; one can only see what remains to be done." 

Slowly walking through the shelves, looking at each and every table and bean bag, you can't seem to find that stupid mass of brunette hair and slushy posture anywhere. In all seriousness, you’re getting angry. Had he stood you up? Was he running behind after he set up the whole meeting in the first place? 

Just as you were about to give up you felt a hand fall on your shoulder, a breeze of honey and pine enveloping your nose. 

“Finally, I found you!” Peter's voice was easy to recognize, especially with how sweet he smelt. 

You turn and look up, giving him a skeptical look. “Where are we going to study?”

He took a moment before pointing at the private study hall, his smile smooth and easy to take in. With a quick nod, you walked towards the hallway, looking in each room to decipher which had his items in it. To your delight, it was easy. Every other room was filled with people, some studying, others playing some tabletop games. You walked in, sat at the empty seat closest to the computer and started pulling your notebook out. 

He was right behind you, closing the door and settling in across from you. In one foul swoop his legs were propped on the table and he leaned back a bit. “So do you really think this assignment is going to take ten weeks to research?” He sounded so… carefree.

You respond with a shrug, looking at the page on natural disasters. 

Peter hummed a small ‘mhmm’ and drummed his fingers on his chest, staring at you. “So, are we gonna challenge ourselves and use just our textbook as a reference?” A small smile.

“That's dumb.” You scoff and put your book aside, logging into the school computer and doing a quick search for Louisiana and scrolling through its map, trying to find the city to zone in on.

“Oh. Okay… uhm….” He sits forward, dropping his legs and leaning forward, craning his neck a bit to try and get a peek at the screen.

“New Orleans is probably a good one. Super populated, a staple for tourists. It would be a big tragedy for it to get destroyed.” He pointed at the spot on the screen, his tone still just as warm as usual.

“No, too predictable.” It comes out like an insult, and you internally kick yourself.

There's a pause before a defeated sigh and he points out another spot on the map, it’s random and his smile is gone now. “What about there? Grand Isle?” 

You take a long look at it before nodding and writing the town name down, looking over at him with a forced smile. “Cool.”

“You know, we’re gonna have to talk like real people eventually, right?” It’s frustrated and a bit.. sad. Another internal kick.

“Listen I-” you pause, not sure of how to put it at first, “I’m not good at talking. Never have been.” 

“Yea, I’ve noticed.” He shrugs and pulls out the most beat-up laptop you’d ever seen. “But, that night in the courtyard you seemed pretty chatty.”

The memory flashes in your mind and you touch your nose, your new pair of glasses hasn’t arrived yet. “It was a momentary lapse. Probably won’t happen again.”

“Why not?” He stares intently, a stomach turning, heart flipping look on his face as he asks.

“Why would it?” You stare back, your hands starting to fidget with your jean pocket.

“Cause we’re friends now.” He spoke so nonchalantly.

“Not friends.” A groan

“Oh come on, you’ll learn to love me eventually.” His voice was soft and he brought the backside of his fingers against his chin, batting his eyelashes.

“Eh, doubt it. I’ve had enough of love lite.” You said it, genuinely grossed out.

There was a moment of silence, the buzzing LED above you making you think you won Peter's yap battle.

“What?” It came out after a hearty laugh, one that felt like it had to come from his stomach.

You roll your eyes, looking into Grand Isle, writing its population count down as you respond. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“So you think I’m pretty?” He gasps, his hand pumping in the air as if he’d won something.

A shiver runs down your spine but you don’t let it show. “Sickening thought. Thanks, Mr. Aracnophile.” You grimace, making a fake gagging sound even though deep down you were enjoying this stupid conversation with him.

“Oh ew- never call me that again. What did I ever do to you?” His hand flew over his heart, squeezing his pullover with a dramatic gasp.

“You haven’t shut up since we got in this room.” You looked him in the eye, an almost unamused expression on your face outside of the small smile that was fighting its way past your ever slipping mask.

Peter is quiet for a moment again before rolling his shoulders back and sighing. “Got you pretty chatty though, didn’t I?” A shit-eating grin and a teasing tone accompanying his words.

You go to speak but nothing comes out. He did get you chatty. For some reason it makes your face heat up and you roll your eyes before looking back at your computer screen. “I’ll look into the town, you look into the likeliness a hurricane would destroy it?” 

He nods and opens the laptop, it has several cracks in the screen and duct tape holding a few of the plastic parts down. You take a mental note not to ask about it right now, but maybe later. 

The next hour progresses quickly, handwritten notes torn out of notebooks and stacked neatly into a pile in between the two computer screens. There are a few sneezes and quick exchanged glances while you work, but you ignore it. No reason to think too hard about it. 

As you start to type a few sentences into a digital outline, your phone buzzes, indicating your next class would be starting in twenty minutes. You sigh and start to boot down the computer. Peter lifts his head, looking at you and furrowing his brows a little bit. 

“Got somewhere to be?” He says your name so smoothly, you almost miss that he said it at all. 

“Yea. My next block of classes is about to start.” You shrug and sift through the different notes he and you had written, letting your eyes graze each one to see what’s what and how you should organize it in your folder. 

“I can take those.” He gently taps the top of the papers and you’re reluctant to hand them over. It was hard to say yes, because what if you needed to double check them and retrace your steps before- “I’ll scan them and send them to you after work tonight.”

A wave of relief washes over you, and you nod, letting his hand take them from you. “Sounds good, Spider-guy.” You say with a tight lipped smile and start to leave the study room. 

“Hey, wait. Let me walk with you.” He calls out to you but you put your earbuds in and pretend you didn’t hear him. 

—-----------------

<pbparker@empire.edu 

Sent at 3:06am 10/24/2024

2 attachments (4 MB)

Here you go, just as I promised. Oh, also, here’s my number, you know, if you want to be a normal 21 year old someday. Also, can't meet Friday. Something came up.

See you soon, trouble.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Peter B. Parker

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