#i just hope that this afternoon there will be some people at the emergency meeting who will be able to talk some sense | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 7 months ago

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It Started With A... || CarLandOscar

Summary: Whoever thought love was limited to one person was an idiot. Love had no limits and you knew that better than most when a rookie found himself carving out a third of your heart. Warnings: established relationships, fluff, angst, pining. WC: 7.5k

It started with a smile. It was stiff and polite and made you pity the rookie who was being introduced to everyone so fast he would surely forget their names.

“It took me a few months, but you’ll figure out who is who,” you encouraged him as the welcome committee went back to work in the factory and Oscar looked for guidance on where he was meant to go next.

“I hope so. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he admitted sheepishly. “Are you in the PR team?”

You looked down at your black skirt and white blouse and thought you probably did look like someone from PR or legal. “Contrary to belief, I am actually what people would call a PR nightmare,” you said as you held your hand out. “Y/N Y/L/N, Lando’s girlfriend.”

“It's nice to meet you. I suppose I’ll see you around here a lot then.”

You smiled ruefully and shook your head. “I’m studying at Royal Holloway but we wanted to be here for your first day so we stopped by.”

You looked around for Lando and found him returning from the cafeteria with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand. “I wondered where you went,” you teased as you happily accepted the hot drink and the kiss he placed on your cheek.

“Figured you needed this, love. I kept you up pretty late for a school night.” Lando nudged Oscar and winked.

The Australian’s ears turned pink and you rolled your eyes at your boyfriend's humour. “He was steaming until some ridiculous hour this morning. You’ll probably find him crashed out on a couch somewhere this afternoon while I will be struggling through lab tech.”

“You’re the smartest person I know, I don’t think you even need to go to class.” Lando tipped your chin back, giving you a deep kiss without care that his new teammate was watching the interaction. “We should go, love, don’t want to make you late again. You want to come for a ride too?”

“Shouldn’t I go inside?” Oscar asked as he looked to the double doors that led into the employee only section.

“They want us to do a few icebreaker promo vids to get to know each other so you’ll just be waiting around for me to get back anyway.”

“You should probably get used to that, he likes to keep people waiting,” you joked.

“When have I ever kept you waiting?”

“I’m still waiting for a win.”

Lando chuckled and playfully swatted your ass. “I’m working on that. Hard.”

You cupped his cheek and ran the pad of your thumb over his pouting bottom lip. “I know you are, baby, and it’s gonna come.”

Oscar cleared his throat and jutted a thumb over his shoulder. “I can just go wait inside.”

“Nah, come on,” Lando said as he grabbed his keys from his pockets. “You should see where her classes are in case there's an emergency.”

You frowned in confusion. “An emergency?”

“Yeah, like if I’m running late.” Lando draped an arm over your shoulder and led the way to the handful of reserved parking spots near the front door. “It’s only 15 minutes down the road.”

Lando opened the passenger door to his Range Rover and you glanced at Oscar who just smiled and opened the back door. “I’m okay back here,” he said as he climbed in. You settled into your usual seat but adjusted it to give Oscar’s longer legs some extra room.

The drive took a little longer with the tail end of rush hour traffic but it seemed to pass quickly with Lando and Oscar making small talk. You could almost feel Lando’s excitement vibrating off him when he spoke about the upcoming season while Oscar was far more reserved. You quickly understood that he was merely the quiet type, not that he wasn’t excited.

“You should come over for dinner,” Lando said, one hand resting on your thigh while the other steered. “I’m heading back to Monaco this afternoon but I’ll be back for the weekend.”

He squeezed your leg when he caught your eyes dropping down at the reminder. “It’s only a few days, love.”

“I know, doesn’t stop me from missing you.”

Oscar tried to turn his attention to the scenery out the window, feeling intrusive in the intimate moment, but Lando caught his eyes as they glanced over you. “Oscar could keep you company. Maybe you could show him around Surrey?”

Oscar’s eyes widened as if he had been caught red handed and his cheeks flamed again. “I, uh, sure, I mean, you’re probably busy studying though.”

“I can make time. I actually get through it a lot quicker without this distraction in the house. Who would have thought?”

Lando gasped, “Me, a distraction?”

“Mhmm, you always need attention, baby. But that’s okay, I still love you.”

“Good to know.” Lando dropped a lopsided grin and winked before pulling up to the front of the Science Block. “I love you too, and don’t forget Carlos is picking you up this afternoon.”

You leaned across the gearbox and kissed Lando farewell before turning to Oscar. “It was really lovely to meet you.”

“You too. Should I get your phone number?”

“Asking for my girlfriend’s number in front of me,” Lando scoffed. “Mate, that’s fucking rude.”

You slapped Lando’s arm and he burst out laughing. “You should have seen your face. Classic.”

You smiled apologetically to the Aussie. “I’ll put it in your phone,” you offered as you held out your hand for the device. You quickly entered the number and hit the green icon until your phone rang in your pocket before taking a selfie and adding it to the contact. “There, now you’ll remember who the name belongs to.”

“Thanks,” he chuckled, taking the phone back. “I would’ve just put ‘Lando’s Missus’.”

“I like that, you can still update it,” Lando chuckled. “It’s a good title.”

“One I’m still waiting for,” you said as you waved your empty ring finger. The movement drew your attention to the watch on your wrist and you swore as you saw class was about to begin. “Bye, baby, have a safe flight.”

You bundled up your bag but when you reached for the door it was already opening and you gave Oscar a quick hug as you stepped out. “Bye, Osc.”

Half the students had disappeared into the halls and you speed walked up to the heritage building where you would spend the first half of your day.

Lando watched you walk away while Oscar took the front seat. “You’ve done something right,” he commented as he put the SUV in reverse, “it took me two weeks to get a nickname.”

A dark blue Ferrari was surrounded by dozens of students when you left your last class and you cradled your textbooks tighter, prepared to bustle your way in. Carlos had been keeping an eye out and was quick to spot you leaving the building. He moved assertively through the crowd and met you at the edge of the circle so he could use his body to shield you.

“Nice and inconspicuous,” you teased him when you were safely deposited into the passenger seat.

“Sorry, hermosa, the flight was delayed. I didn’t have time to go home and switch cars.” He drove slowly as the last of the fans moved aside and tried to peer through the tinted glass. “How was school?”

“I didn’t fall asleep, so there’s that,” you said with a yawn and felt Carlos’ hand close around yours as you closed your eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Carlos lifted your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles before resting them on his lap. “Lando said you made a new friend.”

You smiled and opened your eyes to see Carlos glancing across the car as he sped along the highway home. “You two are the worst gossips. Oscar’s nice. I think they will get along well as teammates.”

“Better than me?”

“No one could beat you and Lando as teammates, baby, that was pure magic.” You rubbed soothingly along his thigh to reassure him. “I don’t know if he will get more vocal as he gets comfortable but I get the feeling Oscar is just a quiet person. He’s very different from Lando, and you and Daniel, which could be a good thing.”

Carlos chuckled to himself. “It sounds like you have spent a lot of time thinking about him.”

“There may have been moments,” you admitted. “But there was someone I thought about a lot more.”

A wicked grin grew and Carlos’s hand drew yours higher up his leg as he turned onto the narrow lane that led to the private property Lando had bought. Set halfway between the McLaren factory and your university, it was the idyllic spot to live and Carlos could fly in from the Ferrari HQ in Maranello whenever he had free time, or, when Lando didn’t want to leave you on your own.

“And who exactly did you think about?” Carlos asked as the front gates opened. “Was he handsome?”

“Very, very handsome, with dark hair and a sexy accent. And he’s so fucking fit, I could break my teeth on his abs,” you hummed happily as the car pulled into one of the few spaces left in the large garage. “I could go on and on about him. Charles is just-”

“Cha-“ Carlos’ foot fell heavy on the brake and the car jutted to a sharp stop. “Charles!”

Your giggle filled the empty car as Carlos ran around the front and opened your door. The world tipped over as he grabbed you out of the seat and tossed you over his shoulder, swatting your ass as he marched you into the house.

“I’m sorry, I was joking,” you spluttered between laughing and gasping as he spanked you again. “I was thinking about you, doing something surprisingly similar to this actually, just less clothes.”

The world spun again as he tossed you on the bed and caged you beneath his body, his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. “You hurt my feelings, mi amor.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist and combed a hand through his thick dark hair that had grown in the week he had been gone. “Then let me make it better.”

It started with a text, asking if you had any recommendations for the local takeaways. It was Oscar’s cheat day and you were feeling like you could use a little pick me up of greasy food so you offered to show him your favourite spot. Carlos had been called away a day earlier than planned so you had the whole house to yourself and its grand size always seemed scary on your own.

The buzzer from the gates sounded and you hit the remote button to open it after, swearing as you realised you lost track of time. Open textbooks covered the kitchen table and highlighters were strewn amongst them as you tried to colour code the notes you had made on post-its. It was a mess, but it was too late to clean up as Oscar knocked on the front door.

“I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just thought I had time to finish my homework first,” you said as you opened the door and waved him in. You looked down at the grey sweatpants that came from Carlos’ drawer and the hoodie that came from Lando’s, not quite what you had planned to wear into town. “Obviously, I thought wrong. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just get changed real quick.”

“You don’t have to get dressed up,” he said as he took his shoes off and closed the door behind him. “I’d rather you be comfortable.”

You smiled at the sincerity and gave him a quick hug, inhaling the musky cologne that clung to his shirt. “You’re sweet, Osc, but you’re a rookie and it shows.”

He frowned as you pulled away and started to head to the stairs for the second floor where the bedrooms were. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You paused at the bottom step and looked over your shoulder. “You’ll see in an hour.”

The chicken shop had been almost empty when you entered before the dinner rush but there was a crowd growing outside. You were used to having cameras pointed your way after publicly dating Lando for over two years, but Oscar had only shot to fame in the last month when his infamous tweet aired on Drive to Survive. He hadn’t been known outside of the smaller F2 circle but now he was a household name.

“I see what you mean,” he said as he did his best to ignore the people knocking on the glass.

“You get used to it, eventually.” You popped a hot chip in your mouth and chewed it while you watched him, a small frown tugging his brows together. “The trick is deciding early on what your position is.”

“What position?”

“With the fans, the paparazzi, all of it.” You glanced at the window and waved. “When we started dating, Lando tried to protect me from them and hide our relationship but they were like sharks after blood. We found we had more privacy if we acknowledged them, then they just moved on.”

You didn’t try hiding with Carlos so no one ever dug too deep into it. Everyone just assumed you were close friends given how close Lando and him were too. It was easier for everyone to believe you were just friends.

Oscar turned to the glass window and forced a smile before waving to the children. Cameras flashed as the fans got the face shots they wanted and then they dispersed back about their day, with the exception of a few stragglers. “Huh. Are you sure you’re not in PR?”

“I’m sure,” you said with a smirk. You weren’t joking when you said you were a PR nightmare - if the world found out about the unorthodox relationship between you, Lando and Carlos it would be. “I have just been through it all before so I can be your personal guide.”

“Thank you.”

You pushed the leftover plate of fries his way knowing he was probably like every other driver who had the ability to consume three times their weight in carbs on a cheat day. “You can thank me with another dinner date, it beats going cross-eyed studying.”

“I’m not sure your boyfriend would appreciate that,” he said as he dragged the plate of fries closer and finished the last of them.

“Lando appreciated what makes me happy, and he’s secure enough to trust what we have isn’t going anywhere.”

The idea was foreign to him and you could see the doubt he had about it, but he settled instead for a polite, “That must be nice.”

“Your PR team is going to love you,” you chuckled as you grabbed your wallet to pay. “A driver who actually keeps his thoughts to himself, that’s a rarity.”

Oscar’s long legs quickly overtook you and he had some cash out ready. “I invited you,” he said with a stern look that caught you by surprise. “I’m paying.”

Raising your hands in defeat, you smirked and slipped your wallet back into your handbag. “Yes, sir.”

You watched his eyes linger on your lips before he shook his head of the wayward thought and led the way out of the store. “So what do you usually do when Lando is in Monaco?”

“Carlos usually comes and keeps me company, or I just study. Not exactly the epitome of excitement but it’s my last year and then I’ll go to Monaco too.”

Oscar quietly accepted the knowledge without questioning it, though you could see them swirling in his eyes. He wanted to know about Carlos but he was too polite to ask, or maybe he knew it wasn’t something you could answer. “Well, you have my number so if you get sick of studying you can always call me.”

"You can call me too, Osc.”

Term break arrived with as much turbulence as the plane you took to Austria. On one hand you were excited to be able to travel to a few races but on the other you nervously awaited two assessment results and continuously checked your phone for updates until Carlos locked it in the hotel safe. “You can get it back when you promise to relax.”

“I won’t relax until I know what I got,” you argued but between him and Lando they distracted you well enough, for a while at least.

“We need to get going,” Lando reluctantly said as he climbed out of bed and tried to restore some control over his mussed hair. “You can have your phone back, but just so we can contact you, not so that you can worry about your damn exams.”

Carlos laughed as he unlocked the safe that also had your passports and valuables stored. “I’m sure she will listen to you,” he said as he handed the phone over and saw the unread text messages from Oscar light up the screen. “Though maybe she won’t have time to check her emails now.”

The two managed to shower in a matter of seconds before they reappeared and sorted through the pile of clothes on the floor, tossing red one way and papaya the other.

“Is Oscar on his way?” Lando asked when he was dressed and ready to go to the track.

“He’s already there,” you replied, barely looking up from the messages that were coming in rapidfire succession except to kiss Lando goodbye. “And he said you’re going to be late again if you don’t hurry up.”

“I was on time yesterday,” Lando grumbled, pulling his shoes on as he hopped to the door. “I just looked late because I was the last to arrive.”

“Better than coming too soon,” Carlos joked as he leant down to give you a kiss too. “See you later, mi amor.”

You arrived at the track just before the driver’s parade began, when everyone was too busy making their way to the grandstands so the paddock was much easier to navigate. The results had been posted and a smile had been plastered on your face since seeing the grade, but you wanted to tell Lando and Carlos in person.

“Hey, you’re actually here.” The aussie twang greeted your ears before you turned and found Oscar opening his door opposite Lando’s. “I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination.”

Oscar opened his arms and you stepped into the hug you were pretty sure you had trained him into expecting every time you met. He was already in his fireproof skins and they hugged every inch of his torso so you could feel the muscle that lay beneath.

“I got in last night,” you said as you brushed a hand through his soft hair and giggled when it flopped back over his forehead. “How has your week been?”

“I’m pretty sure you know almost everything that’s happened.” Referring to the hundreds of texts that were religiously exchanged.

“It’s not the same without seeing your face, I can’t tell if you’re lying or not.”

He tucked your head back into his collar and held you a little tighter. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“You would if you thought it was protecting me.”

He didn’t have a response for that, at least not before Lando’s door opened and he leaned against the panel with an amused look on his face.

“Are we celebrating or commiserating, love?”

You had completely forgotten why you had come to the building and a bright smile lit up your face as you bounced on the balls of your feet. “A+, baby.”

“Knew you could do it!” Lando wrapped his arms around you and, incidentally, Oscar too. “Fuck the diet, we are going out tonight.”

You looked up at Oscar. “You’ll come too right?”

“Of course he’s coming,” Lando answered with a wink. “Gotta thank the guy that looks after my girl when I’m away. She would never get her nose out of a book if you didn’t take her out.”

You had quickly learned that it didn’t take much to make Oscar blush and Lando loved to make it happen.

“It’s no problem,” Oscar murmured as he scratched his heated neck.

Oscar understood more than anyone why there were always rumours about Carlos. Every time pictures were snapped of you and the Spaniard, or all three of you, the gossip began anew. After spending quite a bit of time with you over the last six months he had his own fair share of rumours but he knew nothing had happened with you. It was hard not to gravitate closer to you or to hug you at any given chance - there was a magnetism he couldn’t explain and he didn’t want to fight it.

“You saved me from total starvation on numerous occasions,” you praised, rising on your toes to kiss his pink cheek. “My hero.”

Oscar’s face grew another shade deeper and he tried to change his racing thoughts to something other than the feel of your lips. It was impossible, he was too far gone and was helpless to his own feelings that wanted more than you could offer. He couldn’t even look at Lando after the betrayal he had just imagined doing. That was his teammate and you were his boyfriend.

“I’m going to head to the garage,” he choked as he took a step back and grabbed his balaclava from his room. He could feel your eyes in him as he left and when he reached the end of the corridor he turned with a frown as he realised he had missed something. “Congratulations on the grade, you deserve it after the effort you put in.”

Those eyes he had come to love in the last six months softened and you smiled. “Thank you, Osc. Good luck out there.”

It started with a kiss. While Lando and Carlos were celebrating the points they had earned, you were keeping Oscar’s glass full as he stewed in his mind over what he could have done better. You could almost see the calculations running through his head as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass and it was like he couldn’t even hear the music in the nightclub.

“If you don’t drink that I will, and you don’t want to see what happens to me when I have whisky,” you warned him.

He looked at the glass and sighed, putting it down. “I think I should just call it a night. You should go have fun with them.” You followed his sight to Carlos and Lando jumping with the crowd, Lando’s mouth moving with the words and Carlos’ arm draped over his shoulder.

“They can keep each other company, I want to be here with you.” You took his glass and lifted it to your lips. “Last warning…” The liquor burned down your throat and you rushed to take a gulp of your fruity cocktail to wash away the taste before a shiver rolled down your spine. “Oh god, how can you drink that?”

You poured another glass from the bottle on the table and held it out until he took it with a small laugh. “It’s meant to be sipped, not shot,” he clarified before drinking a small amount.

The whisky hit your stomach and you felt warmth spread across your skin. The bar menu suddenly became a necessity and you fanned your face with the cardboard as the flush reached your hairline. “We should dance.”

“I, I’m not a good dancer,” he said, looking concerned at the idea.

“No one is good at dancing,” you pointed out, the crowd basically just jumping to the beat or moving side to side. “Just follow my lead.”

He accepted your hand and you grinned triumphantly as you towed him to the dancefloor before turning and stepping closer to his body. Your hands came to rest on his chest and you swayed your hips to the beat before realising he really did need to be led because his hands were still limp at his sides.

“You can touch me,” you teased as you grabbed his hands and put them on your hips. “Just relax and feel the rhythm.”

Oscar’s fingers flexed when he felt you start moving again, your body brushing against his, and he released a shuddering breath when you turned in his arms and tipped your head back on his shoulder to look up at him.

“You okay?” you asked as you watched his blue eyes darken in the laser lights.

“You’re beautiful.”

You turned to face him with one of those smiles of pure joy that always made his day better and he forgot about his poor race result. He could hardly breathe when your hands roamed his body, climbing the thick column of his neck to rest on his racing pulse. He was pretty sure he was going to pass out when you rose on your tiptoes, eyes closed and lips pursed to give him one of those sweet kisses on his cheek.

Someone knocked into him and he turned to growl a warning but then your lips were there, pressed to his lips and he lost the words. Time slowed to the space between one heartbeat and the next as he savoured the sweet taste of your drink, unable to stop himself from taking a little more.

You had kissed his cheek enough times to memorise the feel of them and knew it was not what you were kissing. A soft gasp slipped past when his tongue parted your lips and your fingers found themselves tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as your body yearned for more.

“Uh-oh, someone’s had a bit of frisky whisky,” Lando purred in your ear.

Oscar startled back and wiped his lips that were the same shade as your lipstick. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, it was an accident. Someone pushed me,” he stammered as he looked around but had no idea who had barged into him when there were hundreds of people in the club.

“Relax, mate,” Lando said with a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder. You cozied into Lando’s arm and tried to process what had happened while your lips tingled from the kiss and your heart fluttered. “It’s the whisky.”

You wanted to tell him the whisky hadn’t kicked in yet but kept quiet as Oscar exhaled in relief. Hiding your face in the crook of Lando’s neck, you screwed your eyes shut and pushed away the image that told you he had regretted the kiss. The knowledge settled in your gut that twisted and turned and you gripped Lando’s shirt harder at the rejection.

“Can we go?” you begged quietly. “Please?”

Lando kissed your forehead and nodded. “Okay, love, let me just tell Carlos.”

Your hands were left empty as Lando darted back into the melee to find Carlos who would probably stay until the club shut down. For the first time since meeting him you felt awkward in Oscar’s presence knowing you had made him uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say and it was clear he didn’t either as he buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“I’m sorry,” you mouthed as you took a step away, hoping the crowd would swallow you whole.

When you woke the next morning for a moment you could pretend it was some strange dream, or nightmare, until Lando blinked his sleep eyes open and pulled you into his arms. “Good morning, beautiful.” The timbre of his voice when he was just waking could always bring a smile to your face but your lips merely wobbled and he sat up concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up, with Oscar.”

“Baby, it was just a kiss and you were both drunk, I’m sure he’s probably already forgotten about it.”

The thought that he could forget something that to you was so profound only compounded the ache in your chest. You didn’t want him to forget, you didn’t want him to regret, and you voiced as much to Lando as you cried in his arms.

“Sweetheart,” Lando murmured softly as he wiped away your tears. “I think this is a conversation we should have with Carlos.”

“It doesn’t matter,” you grumbled, tearing yourself from his embrace. “It wouldn’t work out anyway.”

Lando got up and followed you to the bathroom as you turned the shower onto the hottest setting. “Why wouldn’t it work?”

“You and Carlos are best friends, and while you are always close to your teammates I know he doesn’t have the same interest in Oscar.” You stepped under the cascade and welcomed the burning heat that rained down. “I don’t want to lose what we have by wanting more.”

You didn’t hear Lando leave as the steam fogged up the glass and you let your head fall against the cold tile wall. He left you to your thoughts and gave you the space needed to reconcile your feelings to the past.

It started with a phone call. The urge had woken you from a deep sleep and you couldn’t shake the need to reach for your phone and dial the number you knew by heart. It had been a good weekend for the McLaren team with double podiums both in the Sprint and Grand Prix. The two third place caps were hung on the post of the bed as testament to the productive weekend but Lando had gone to bed deflated.

Oscar had won his maiden race before him. A rookie had done what he had waited years for, what he still waited for.

“Hello?”

You had assumed the call would go to voicemail after ringing for so long so you weren’t prepared to hear Oscar’s sleepy voice in your ear.

“Hey, sorry to wake you.”

“It’s okay, is everything alright?”

You swallowed and shook your head before remembering he couldn’t see. “I just wanted to say congratulations, I thought you would still be out celebrating.”

“There’s no one to go celebrating with,” he said so quietly you wondered if it was even meant to be said out loud.

“I’m sorry.” You weren’t sure what for exactly but you felt the need to say it anyway. It was about the only thing you had said to him in weeks. “I should let you get back to sleep.”

“It’s, uh, it’s good to hear your voice,” he admitted and you a little bit of the weight on your shoulders eased as you realised whatever you had wasn’t completely ruined.

“You too, Osc. Good night.”

“Night.”

It was naive to think that one phone call could repair the divide that had chasmed between you because when you returned home for your last semester you still felt his absence everywhere. There were no daily text messages, or invitations to dinner, no sudden appearances as you left class. He was a memory that haunted you and it was always worse when both Lando and Carlos were away.

Four Months Later

It started with a bouquet. The small card was almost lost in the overflowing explosion of blossoms that left a sweet scent in the air but when you flipped it over your heart skipped a beat. Congratulations, OP x

You were still smiling just as brightly an hour later when you arrived at the graduation ceremony to receive your Honours degree. You had kept the bouquet with you and inhaled the fresh scent as you waited for your name to be called. A loud cheer erupted from the rows where Lando, Carlos, your friends and family sat but it was the lonely cheer at the back of the hall that caught your attention.

Unfortunately it may have been a hopeful hallucination as you didn’t see him again after that or at the celebration Lando threw for you at home.

“Pack your bags, baby, it’s time for Monaco!” Lando engulfed you in a hug and spun you around so your ceremonial robes billowed out and you clutched your cap to keep it from flying off. “I’m so selfish, I can’t wait to wake up to you every fucking day.”

Another set of arms tugged you away and you fell into Carlos’ embrace. “I’m so proud of you, hermosa.”

You were practically a marionette the way you were passed from one person to the next until finally the bottles of champagne ran dry and the party came to an end. You collapsed onto your bed with a giddy laugh that the long journey was finally over and you toed your heels off, letting them fall to the floor.

“You can’t sleep in your dress, amor,” Carlos chuckled as he walked into the room with Lando after locking the house up.

“Then you will have to undress me,” you teased with a beckoning finger that faltered when you saw Lando had the bouquet in a vase that he had found downstairs and he placed it on the bedside drawers beside your phone. “I saw him.”

“I know,” Lando said as he straightened the card among the roses. “I invited him.”

“Thank you.”

The next bouquet was one that you sent to him on his birthday. He barely kept the flowers alive for a week but he did keep the card that was attached. The two little xx’s you signed off with were almost faded from how often he traced his thumb over them before slipping it back into his wallet. He was no longer a rookie but he found this season harder to bear without your companionship and he wished he could somehow fix what he broke.

The problem was that he couldn’t settle for just your friendship anymore so he had to keep his distance instead. He had tasted your lips and nothing less could sate the addiction that had festered in the absence of another hit.

Miami was torturous for Oscar. The car was running great and his qualifying was great, but after five rounds of racing he was still stunned every time he watched you enter the paddock. At least in China the weather was horrible so you were bundled up in Lando’s hoodie but Miami, Miami was hot. Monaco had been influential in your fashion and the dress you wore was worthy of the runways in Paris.

Stacks of passes hung around your neck and fell into your cleavage as you entered the grid and joined Lando where he was talking to Carlos. Oscar watched with envy as you hugged them both and kissed their cheek with well wishes for the race while he failed to hear what his race engineer was explaining. He was distracted by the fact you had seen him, and smiled. It was small and shy, but it was a smile nonetheless and one of his own growing as you waved your fingers and disappeared back into the garage.

One hundred and ten races he kept you waiting, but finally Lando won his maiden race and there was nothing that could bring him down. He had not stopped smiling, or dancing, or talking since winning and he wasn’t even sure if any of it made sense. The hours were a whirlwind of alcohol and noise until it all turned black and Carlos had to help you get him into bed.

Lando was fast asleep with his mouth open and snoring, which heavily down to the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed at the after party. He didn’t even stir as you slipped out of the bed and left the room to answer the call that lit up your phone.

“Hey.” You kept your voice low even though you knew nothing short of a fire alarm would wake your boyfriend.

“Hey.” You could hear the smile in that word and your own lips curled up in response. “I’m sorry if I woke you, I just needed to hear your voice.”

You navigated your way through the dark hotel suite to the balcony and opened the door just wide enough to fit through before closing it. The humidity was instant and the satin nightgown clung to your warm skin as you hung up the phone. “You didn’t wake me.”

Oscar was so close you could almost touch him, but the balcony one room over was just too far away. He even looked down the gap to see the fifteen storey high plunge and you could see his brows burrow together like he was calculating his chances of making the leap across.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned him. “I didn’t come out here to see you fall to your death.”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the railing and he sighed in defeat. A smirk soon tugged at his lips and he brushed his hair back over his ear as he eyed the sheer slip you wore. “But you did come out here to see me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, aware of how thin the material was and all it bared. “I wanted to check how you were.”

Oscar’s lips pursed at the reminder of his poor race result.

“Could have done without your boyfriend’s boyfriend crashing into me.”

He didn’t know how close to the truth he was with that statement and you wondered if he knew about the relationship that Lando and Carlos had or if he was just playing on an old fan rumour. You wondered how shocked he would be if he knew that Carlos was passed out on the other side of Lando right now.

“It is a part of racing,” you reminded him. “There’s always a risk battling it out.”

Oscar dropped his head with a little laugh. “It’s a good thing I didn’t call you for sympathy or I would be disappointed.”

“Why did you call me?”

You knew why.

“I told you, I wanted to hear your voice.”

“Osc,” you sighed, your hands falling to your side, and he lifted his head to look at you, his blue eyes so similar to his teammates.

“I’m not an idiot,” he said as he let go of the rail he leaned on and rose to his full height. “I know you love him.”

“I do,” you confirmed with a small nod, unable to look in his direction as you turned your focus to the view of the ocean instead.

You didn’t hear him move until his feet landed quietly on the concrete behind you and you spun around to face him. A small shocked gasp escaped your lips when his palm glided over the satin at your waist and pulled you closer to his body. Your hands found their own space on his chest and he froze as he waited for you to push him away, but your fingers curled into the white shirt he wore.

“I know you love him,” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But I think you might love me too.”

“You have ignored me for months.” It wasn’t a denial and he caught the admission of those missing words.

“I can never ignore you, and now I know I can’t even keep my distance from you.” He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against yours as his large hands cradled your face. “I need you, Y/N.”

“You don’t know what you are asking for,” you whispered as you fought the urge to tell him just how much you needed him too.

“I’m asking for a chance to show you how perfect we are for each other.” He pulled back to see tears shimmering in your eyes and he sighed. “I shouldn’t have called. I didn’t think. I’m sorry.”

“Wait-”

“No, you don‘t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have put you in that position. I don't want you to cheat on Lando.” He kept backing away but you followed with each step until his back was pressed to the railing.

“Lando isn’t the problem,” you promised as you reached for his face and cradled his sharp jawline. “Remember when I said I was a PR nightmare?”

Oscar nodded as his brows furrowed together.

“I’m trusting you with a secret no one else knows.” His confusion grew as you took his hand and led him inside the suite. You pressed a finger to your lips as you reached the bedroom door and nudged it wider so he could see what was inside. In the dim light it was hard to make out what he was looking at but then everything came into focus like the Ferrari shirt on the floor and the CS55 cap on the nightstand.

Oscar’s jaw slackened as he recognised the two bodies spread across the sheets and he eyed the empty space that you had filled. A thousand questions muddled in his head and he swallowed them down until you had closed the door again. His hand slipped out of yours as you walked back to the balcony and you wondered if that was the last time you would ever hold it.

“No one can know, please,” you whispered as you hugged yourself and stared at the moonlight on the waves.

“Help me to understand what I just saw. Are the rumours true then?”

You laughed and turned to face him, crossing your legs and you leant against the rail. “They're not wrong,” you admitted with an evasive shrug. “They love each other and have a relationship, but it’s not the same relationship that I have with them.”

“You’re not exactly helping me to understand this,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he sat heavily on the outdoor settee.

You had never needed to explain it before, the addition of Carlos to yours and Lando’s relationship had naturally fallen into place and been accepted without having to understand why you all felt the way you did or how it was going to work. But now you were going to try.

“I met Lando first and what we had was instant, he was funny and sweet and kind. Then he introduced me to Carlos who was so charismatic it was impossible not to love him too. It didn’t mean I loved Lando any less so he supported me having a relationship with Carlos too.”

“Okay.” He nodded like it made some sense and it gave you a slither of hope. “But what about them?”

You watched Oscar’s eyes linger on the skin bared by the satin and they darkened when you uncrossed your legs to step closer. He sat up straighter as you approached and his legs opened for you to step between and he did nothing to stop you when you took a seat on his lap.

“You want to know if it's a package deal?” you teased, toying with the strands of his dirty blonde hair. “You want to know if you can have me, but at what price?”

His throat bounced with a deep swallow and his tongue wet his dry lips before he could speak again. “Is it?”

You thought about teasing him more but you settled for the truth. “No, like I said, they don’t have that sort of relationship. Yes, we may sleep in the same bed more often than not and on occasion they share me, but that is as far as they go. That is where the rumours are wrong.”

“Share you as in…”

“Threesome, Oscar,” you confirmed with a laugh as his cheeks turned pink. Seeing that colour again reminded you of the kiss and you shifted on his lap to straddle his hips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. It feels like a part of me has been missing for months.”

His hands slid up your back and pulled you closer. “I know what you mean.”

His lips were so close you could feel their warmth and they begged you to close the distance, but you couldn’t just yet. “I want you, Osc, and you’re right, I do love you.”

You could see the sadness in his eyes as he asked, “But?”

“But I don’t know how this works when you and Carlos are battling each other every week.”

“I know things sound heated on the radio but that is just on the track,” he promised, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over your spine. “I have no problem with Carlos, I swear.”

Carlos had said the same thing but you weren’t sure if they were just trying to placate you. Only time would tell.

“It’s not just my heart that will break if this doesn’t work,” you whispered as your eyes fluttered shut and you surrendered yourself to him.

“Then we will just have to make this work.”

#lando norris fanfic #carlos sainz fanfic #oscar piastri fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic

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maissafespace · 1 year ago

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The More, The Merrier.

Reo Mikage x Fem!Reader x Nagi Seishiro.

Request: so sorry but i forgot to add!! could u include double penetration w the reonagi 3some? thank u !!

Warnings: relationship; best friends, childhood friends. explicit sexual content; threesome, foreplay, dry humping, virgin!reader, virgin!reo, virgin!nagi, oral male receiving and female receiving, fingering, penetrative sex, double penetration, anal, overstimulation, degradation kink, praising kink, mean!reo, soft!nagi, double creampies, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

A/n: ngl this was really hot to write. lol. this request was from october of freaking last year lol i'm sorry but i hope i did some justice if you're even still following. send a coffee!

Masterpost - Masterlist.

You didn't know exactly how you were still friends with Reo, the guy changed and discarted friends like nothing, so to be by his side after a lifetime was surprising to everyone.

So surprising that some people thought you two were in a relationship for some time now.

You weren't, to clear the record.

But there was never a denial on whether you found him attractive enough to sleep with him, the opportunity was simply never given and you were for sure never going to ask just to calm your curiosity on his abilities in bed. It would have been slightly desperate on your part. Even if you dreamt about it in your early teens.

Then, he befriended Nagi, you did too as he brought him around. Another one that you couldn’t help but find attractive, honestly, only blind people wouldn’t. His height was enough to get you riled up, along with the general different in size between the two of you. He was a stud.

Growing and maturing, they both just got better, but it got worse for you as the two untouchable people in your life continued to appear in your horniest of dreams.

Nonetheless, you found yourself cheering for the two of them during every match, you could be in, congratulating them both if they won, consoling them, cooking if they lost, spending your breaks from uni the three of you together, making trips during the holidays...

You three were inseparable, the three best friends.

The three that many believed were fucking between each other.

Reaching Reo’s family house like every other Saturday afternoon with the difference of it not being his apartment, you met his father at the door, he smiled at you warmly, informing you that Nagi was here too with Reo playing videogames, while hewas going to go to an emergency meeting right then. He patted your head as he left the house.

There was a tingling in your stomach for some reason as you made your way up, brushing that to the side you finally entered the room finding Nagi sat with his back to the bed on the ground, while Reo was crossed leg on the bed a bit hunched over.

Your body and his mattress were one and only in a second, laying down beside him, your head close to Nagi's head and Reo's leg.

You felt the slight tension in the room, the awkward air that was hanging heavy at your appearence.

"Hi, are we going to stay like this for long?" You asked as minutes passed where they stood still as statues with their fingers being their only indication of life.

Their eyes met one another briefly, your eyebrow started to arch in confusion. The game became silent seconds later, Nagi was scratching the back of his head as Reo put things back into place all without saying a word and never looking at you.

"What is wrong with you two today?" You asked calmly and honestly a bit scared, were they going to dump you? Or well, stop your friendship?

Reo cleared his throat loudly, leaning against his desk directly in front of you, arms crossed and body stiff trying to relax for whatever he was going to say next. "Well... we were kind of, we talked about something before that left us wondering a bit, you just came in at the… wrong time, I guess."

"Good, what is that?" They kept looking at each other as if choosing who'd say it, patience was running thin now. "Guys."

"Having a threesome." Nagi said as unbothered as ever. Your eyes widened but other than that you kept your compsure, without noticing arching your back. Looking back and forth once again between the two.

"You guys... had a threesome?" You asked baffled. For some reason you felt a bit hurt at the admission. Despite being 18, you were up till then still virgin-

"No! No! We- we just talked about it, like a possibility in the future to experience and then you walked in and things got awkward, since you know- ugh." Reo explained quickly with a hand rubbing his face out of the slight embarrassment he was currently feeling. You felt relief, at least some groupie had not taken them,.. from you.

It felt wrong to think of them as yours but for years they were just that, yours. The only girl they let close to them, the only girl they hugged and complimented.

A chill ran down your whole body, a feeling you knew too well was pooling in your core, you realized that two of the most attractive guys you knew, were standing right there, with a open possibility of having them at the same time without it being awkward in your small friend group.

You stood up, thinking over your next actions carefully as they just looked you pacing around the room and just like you feeling a certain heat in them. Looking at one another, Reo with a tiny smirk.

With your silence he was getting angrier though rather than frustrated, the previous embarrassment completely left in favor of supressing the need to bonk you on the head and stop walking around.

"You're making me dizzy." Nagi said out loud, basically reading his mind. Stopping you in your spot.

"Would you though?" You directly looked at them, more at Reo. He shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving you while Nagi gave more of a lazy nod.

Your mind went blank for a second, and when you felt conscious of your own moves, your eyes were half lidded looking directly into Reo's, while the smacking of your lips echoed in the room as they moved so hungrily against the other.

Nagi's figure was behind you, his lips attached to your neck with his hands under your shirt. Your chest pressed against Reo's, your hands on his abs while your ass pressed strongly against Nagi's crotch.

Reo's fingers played with the button of your pants, watching your face flush pink and red in the sloppy kiss, a corner of his lips went up. You seemed so fucked out already and that had him amused, it was arousing to see the composed little girl a puddle in his arms, with his best friend's hands groping all around you.

This was the time he could finally act on his attraction, as much as Nagi could and even you could, without making it worse for all, for this moment at least.

His hand hid behind the zipper of your pants, fingers finding the slick in your freshly shaved skin and he wondered with a grin how many times you walked in so prepared for this moment. Oh fuck, that thought was getting him harder.

Your thighs clenched together at his finger messing with your sensitive clit already. You knew you were mess, but that would make it far more interesting. Your reaction to his fingering had a clear effect on Nagi as well as your rear pushed towards his crotch even more, the bulge a complete hard on, his groans against your skin told it all.

Reo used his free hand to pull away from your kiss, lips swollen and red, soft gasps as you caught your breath but he guided you towards Nagi, your lips connected with his, his hands squeezing your breasts even more, he watched in satisfaction how needy you were as your hand struggle with his pants, trembling and getting frustrated over them.

Your tongue danced with Nagi’s, your body responding to the difference in size as he hunched over to properly kiss you. His hands were burning on your skin, they were far bigger than anything on your body, almost feeling inadequate. You probably were nothing compared to the girls that threw themselves at them, but you couldn’t let yourself down now. If this was your only chance, you had to properly use it.

“Nagi, Reo…” you moaned their names as Nagi’s started to kiss your neck again. “Fuck.”

Nagi slipped your top off in that moment, letting you gasp at the cold air and the sudden wet feeling of Reo’s mouth on your chest. Your face flushed seeing him taking your nipples in his mouth, your hand going around his neck gently, squeezing him whenever either of them gave you stimulation.

Nagi’s long fingers did their job as the palm of his hand pressed against your clit while the tip of two fingers went in and out of your tight hole.

All of your inexperience surfaced at how hungrily you were all dry humping on each other to feel more. Your hips were rubbing against Nagi’s roughly, you could even feel the heat of your clothes at the continuous friction while your hand remained on Reo’s buckling hips. “Shit.” He said over and over. Grabbing your wrist roughly edging himself and just bringing you to his bed, throwing you over it, landing on your stomach, with your hips wiggling on their own.

“Fuck…” you moaned, gasping for air.

You felt the bed dip near your head, looking at Nagi he leaned down to claim your lips as Reo started to take off your pants and panties. Leaving you completely bare, exposed to these hungry men.

The white haired boy led your hand to his crotch, starting to palm it through his pants and slowly taking him out. His cock was bright pink at the tip, oozing a bit of precum, only the sight made your insides melt and you knew they knew, after all Reo who was then fingering you, made the sound of your wet pussy echo in the room. The squelch would have felt embarrassing if it wasn’t for how taken you were with the pretty cock in front of you and your flushed best friend eagerly waiting for you to take him in your mouth.

You moaned at the gentle hand on your face as he guided your hand down the length of his cock. Flinching when you felt the tip of Reo’s tongue starting to explore your cunt. Your legs had closed off or tried as he kept them apart forcefully, with your hand on his hand, gripping on it. “Stop moving around, Y/N. I need to have a taste.” You gave up, listening his voice, raspy, intimidating and a hidden hint of desperation.

They did not stop themselves, you couldn’t even see how Reo was stroking himself at the heightened and intensified pleasure you were receiving.

The amount of time passed reading erotic books and watching porn felt worth while as you practiced what you had visualized. Your tongue swirled around his shaft, moaning around it as much as massaging all around, from the base to his balls to leaving nail marks on his inner thighs and lower abdomen. “Oh, that’s my girl. So good.” Nagi whispered as his hips bucked into your mouth, gagging as he reached the back of your throat.

Your moans grew louder as you felt your climax reach in Reo’s face. Trying to push him off before without success, your thighs clenched around his head as you gave into it. Spasming as he continued to press his tongue on your clit while Nagi continued to fuck your mouth as he kept you in place.

“Come on, baby, a little more.” He whispered to you, as the other side of the bed dipped signaling Reo’s presence. Stroking himself off on top of you as Nagi’s finally cummed into your mouth, drinking down all of his seed after showing it off to him and then caring for Reo’s climax, taking him in your mouth for him to finish.

You’ve probably dreamt of this scenario secretly, as you sat up, the two took turns to claim your lips, grunting at the taste of their cum mix together still present faintly on your lips. Your hands returning to each of their cocks, starting to harden once again.

It was a heated make out session that ended with you on top of Reo, Nagi standing by the bed looking at you two as his cock finally entered you with a bit of struggle.

You were no longer a virgin and so wasn’t Reo anymore. It all happened while your other best friend was intently watching the two of you. You both moaned as he started to move, it was completely different from the feeling of their fingers, you felt filled, truly. You tried to move your hips to match his, your thighs burning while your brain couldn’t function either.

His feet planted on the bed and pushed into you with even more force, feeling him hit spots you’ve never reached by yourself. Your nails dug into his chest. A smirk plastered on his face. “You can take it, love, don’t disappoint me.” He whispered as his hand wrapped around your throat, moaning at the gesture as he pushed back into you making you almost scream. You looked around for your gentle giant, wanting his lips on yours, to share this moment with you too.

Your half-lidded could only make out his figure going around the bed with something in his hand. Losing sight of him as your eyes shut close at a deep thrust from Reo.

Only when you felt liquid dripping onto you, you understood, with Reo’s hands going to your ass spreading it apart for him as he kept going into you. You whimpered as you felt his finger spreading the lube and entering your hole. “Na-Nagi… I don’t-t think I can-“ You managed to say.

“Shh… dont worry, baby, look at you taking Reo so well for your first time. This will be the same.” He traced a line down your spine, making you shiver, your legs tremble as you then watched him spread lube on his own cock.

Reo stopped his movements, edging himself once again as he waited for Nagi as well teasing you all along for your reaction to it. “Thank god that it’s Nagi taking your ass, I wouldn’t be so caring.” And while the semi- warning sent goosebumps on your skin, making you gasp against his lips, you felt yourself clench around him, after all, this whole encounter was of you being used by them. He grinned at the feeling of the walls tightening around him, hissing. “Fuck, you’re a slut… our little slut.” He said, kissing you, relaxing you as Nagi made his way into you.

He groaned as the mere tip passed the ring of muscles, you felt burning, whimpering against Reo’s lips, pulling away from them to moan and grab one of Nagi’s hands in your own. He pushed more and more till he was getting his way into you, grunting loudly. “So fucking tight, shit, princess, it’s so tight.” Your heart flattered at the pet name. Pecking your shoulder, giving you time to adjust before both of them started again.

You were a moaning mess, tears coming down your eyes at the weird feeling in you, between pain and pleasure, over fulfillment and the knot that you felt in your stomach. All your limbs were intertwined, your hips going against their thrusts automatically. You could only imagine if someone walked in on you right now, being rammed by the two guys you always had the hots for secretly.

“Oh god-“ You choked on your words. “It feels so good.” You managed.

“You’re taking it so well, princess. So gorgeous.”

“Perfect slut for us, ours alone.”

They emanated opposite sides of each other. Reo was not so respectful anymore, was not treating you gently, he was degrading you. Nagi who was often crude and more inclined to inappropriate jokes was so caring and praised so much. Both were fulfilling your desires, rough and gentle.

“I- I- I’m going to- ah!” You screamed as you felt your orgasm going through. You could hear them groan as your insides clenched and trapped them, almost milking them out. When you relaxed a little they kept going, going for their own release.

Planting his feet again, holding onto your thighs, Reo thrusted mercilessly as much as Nagi did as he grabbed your shoulders from behind and guided your whole body against his.

Your body didn’t feel like yours for a moment, completely bent at their wills and needs. And you could only welcomed it, your body reacting to your oversensitivity from the previous orgasm as they both finally released deep in you and you did too. Trembling in their hands. As the three of you panted for oxygen, their hips still spasming as their ropes of cum continued to fill you.

“So good, you were so good, baby.” Nagi whispered into your ear as he leaned down and finally stood up.

“Took it so well for your first time.” Reo chuckled, kissing the crown of your head, his arm going over your waist, hugging you to him. His personality completely changing post orgasm. He had to be cocky, as if this wasn't his first as well.

Nagi came back with his phone in hand, Reo grinning as he slowly raised you up to let his cock out as he recorded your rear and cunt as they started to push out their cum. “That’s a sight to remember.” Nagi said under his breath.

“Send it to me, that’s material to jerk off in away games.” Reo said, patting your lower back. You blushed, nuzzling into his chest. “Done” Nagi said and not even seconds later his phone rang out loud.

“You shouldn’t do that without asking me first.” You complained, tracing the lines of Reo’s muscles. Nagi, then, leaned near you, trapping your lips in a kiss. “Can we keep it?” He asked pecking your lips once more and caressing your cheek ever so gently.

“Fine.” You nodded and chuckled at the silly grins they got.

He resumed the kiss and soon after you were being carried in the bathroom, Nagi’s cock thrusting into your swollen pussy from behind as Reo had your hair in a tight fist bouncing it up and down his length as the hot water rained upon the three of you.

Nothing was truly established that night, you were just being fucked throughly, used as nothing more than a cumdump for them, sometimes they both did, sometimes just one and the other watched.

Before you completely passed out, the only thing you heard is how now you knew how they wanted to be greeted by you, how this was going to be their celebration or consolation routine, their stress relieving cycle.

How you were theirs.

You honestly weren’t sure if this was just another of your wet dreams, but when you woke up the day after still in Reo’s bed with his t-shirt on, no panties, with your head on Nagi’s bare chest and Reo’s hand gripping your boob from below, you realized that nothing was going to be the same and fortunately for you, in a positive way.

not my best work. we can get there tho lol. tip! on my master post it’s the ko fi link if you can😓

#blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #nagi seishiro smut #reo x reader #reo x you #reo mikage x reader #reo mikage smut

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beegomess · 4 months ago

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T.R. || Loving you forever

Summary: Tom and you made a pact that they would be together forever, and you are willing to do so. Even if you have to trick some people into having him in your arms again.

Warnings: The story will take place in the 5thº year.

You, a brilliant student of Slytherin, carry with you an emotional weight and a story that few can understand. The connection you shared with Tom Riddle transcends mere friendship or romance; it was a union of souls who promised a future together, challenging not only conventions, but also the timelines themselves.

The promise made with Tom was more than words; it was a sealed pact with a love so intense that it seemed immortal. When the spell cast by him projected you forward in time, it was not just an escape, but a way to preserve this connection beyond death and forgetfulness. Every day at Hogwarts, while you keep your Slytherin student facade, it is a silent battle to hide the true weight of your heart — the pain of being separated from the one you love most and the persistent hope of meeting him again.

Current life, with its challenges and interactions, is constantly filtered through the memory of the past. Every step you take is calculated, each action is measured with the intention not only to fulfill your mission, but also to keep alive the memory of the love that once defined your existence. The fact that Tom's diary is the key to his resurrection makes his quest a mixture of duty and desire, an effort to restore what has been lost and, at the same time, a longing for a future where you can be together again.

As you approach Harry Potter, you are not only in search of a magical object; you are struggling to unite two worlds - the present and the past, love and obligation, the real and the imagined. Every moment you spend trying to gain Potter's trust is a step closer to realizing a promise that was made in simpler times, and also an attempt to reconcile what was left behind with what can still be achieved.

Behind his calm smile and the calculated strategies, there is a soul marked by an eternity of longing and a heart that still pulsates for the love that has never been faded. The mission is your redemption and your purpose, and its success is the key to restoring a piece of a past that you have never been able to leave completely behind.

His "frendity" began in a Herbology class. You were still someone unknown to him, which certainly helped you.

Harry began to sympathize with you some time ago, seeing you as an unexpected ally. It didn't take long for an obstacle to emerge in his path. Hermione Granger began to suspect her true intentions and decided to warn Harry about you.

One afternoon, while you were talking to Harry in the hallway, Hermione approached with a serious expression, which made you say goodbye and move away discreetly.

- Harry, are you sure you can trust her? - Hermione asked, her voice loaded with concern. - She is from Slytherin, and this should be taken into account.

Harry looked at Hermione, with a confused expression.

- I see no reason to suspect her. She has been very helpful. - Harry replied, trying to seem convinced.

Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes fixed on Harry with a determined look.

- Besides, she is also born a sucker, just like you. It wouldn't be a bad idea to have someone from Slytherin around. But don't worry, I know the reputation of the house is not the best. - He paused, as if expecting an argument.

Although it was not true that you were a "born sucker", the lie that you faced prejudice in Slytherin had a convincing effect on Harry. He believed it quickly, making his task easier.

- I just want you to be cautious. - Hermione insisted. - Even if she seems friendly, Slytherins have a reputation and, in my experience, it is always better not to let your guard down.

Despite Hermione's reservations, Harry continued to open up to you, but his interventions added a layer of tension to his plan. Maintaining Harry's confidence while dealing with Hermione's vigilance was a constant game of balance. Their meetings were planned to look spontaneous, always with a welcoming smile and an offer of genuine help. In each interaction, you calibrated your behavior to be useful and reliable, so that Harry did not suspect his true intentions.

[...]

On the night of that same day, the library was wrapped in an almost reverential silence, illuminated by the flickering light of the candles and the soft glow of the magic lamps. The tall bookshelves projected mysterious shadows, creating an environment that combined comminess and mystery. Harry Potter was sitting at a table, immersed in a thick book, but his expression showed distraction.

You approached with a calm and strategic posture, your clear goal. Harry was distracted, and you noticed a subtle glow emanating from his bag, which was partially open on the table. With a trained look, you immediately recognized Tom Riddle's diary, shining slightly under the light of the library.

- Harry! - You started, your soft and friendly voice - It looks like you're having trouble with this material. Do you need help?

Harry looked up at you, his expression mixing relief with a twinge of suspicion. He moved slightly away from the bag, as if unconsciously protecting the valuable object it contained.

- Oh, it's you. - Harry replied, a little surprised. - Actually, I'm having difficulties with it. I would appreciate it if you can take a look.

You smiled and leaned over to examine the book, your hand sliding discreetly in the direction of the bag. The diary was there, clearly visible through the opening. You tried to stay calm while adjusting your position, trying to get closer to the bag without drawing attention.

However, Harry seemed to notice the movement. His eyes fixed on his hand next to the bag and he hardened a little, his lips closing in a thin line.

The silence of the library was interrupted by a slight sound of something falling on the floor. Tom Riddle's diary, which was visibly exposed in Harry's bag, slipped from the opening and fell with a deaf thum on the tiled floor. The sound made Harry lean abruptly to pick up the object, his expression of concern quickly turning into tension.

He bent down and caught the diary quickly, his fingers squeezing the object firmly as he straightened. His eyes were now fixed on the diary, and there was a shadow of nervousness on his face. The tension was palpable, and he made a visible effort to hide the book in his bag carefully, trying to stay calm.

Taking advantage of the moment, you leaned a little further forward, watching the scene with a look of genuine concern.

- It seems that this is very important to you - you said, your voice loaded with a carefully calculated empathy. - What is this book? It seems to be causing a lot of tension.

Harry looked at you with an expression of surprise and discomfort. He hesitated for a moment, clearly struggling to decide how much to reveal. The shadow of distrust still hovered in his eyes, but the sincerity in his tone seemed to have created a gap.

- It's just one... a personal item. - Harry replied, his voice a little hesitant. - It's nothing to worry about.

You gave a slight understanding smile, trying to soften the situation and keep gaining your trust.

- I Understand. Sometimes, we all have things that we prefer to keep to ourselves. - You said, tilting your head in a friendly way. - But if you need someone to talk to or help with anything, I'm here for that.

Harry seemed to relax a little, although there was still a pinch of caution in his eyes. He clearly appreciated the offer of support, but was still struggling to balance trust with distrust.

- Thank you. - Harry said, his tone a little more relaxed, but still careful. - It's good to know that.

You took advantage of the moment to take a step closer, but without invading his personal space.

- No problem, Harry. The truth is that I'm here to help, and I hope we can work together to overcome any difficulty. - You paused, watching him carefully. - If you need anything, especially if the book is causing problems, know that you can talk to me.

Harry gave a slight nod, his gaze still a little cautious, but grateful. The diary, now again hidden in the bag, seemed to be a source of great concern for him, and his answer indicated that he was starting to open up a little more.

As you walked away, a feeling of satisfaction and relief mixed with the awareness that distrust was still present. Every step towards Harry's trust was a victory.

[...]

The next day, Hogwarts was immersed in an atmosphere of expectation. A timid sun filtered through the windows of the Great Hall, casting soft rays of light on the students' tables. The murmuring conversations and the usual clamor were interrupted when an urgent announcement echoed through the corridors.

Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were summoned to the Flitwick professor's room due to an unexpected situation: the House's Academic Performance Report was severely outdated and there was an alarming discrepancy in the grades of several students. Hermione, known for her perfectionism and dedication, was immediately involved in solving the problem, while Ron, although initially reluctant, was dragged into the task due to his friendship with Hermione and his desire to help her.

The situation was carefully orchestrated by you. A quick manipulation in the academic records and a subtle error in the calculations had been enough to create a distraction that involved Hermione and Ron for several hours. The confusion generated and the need to correct the data urgently caused them to focus intensely on the task, leaving Harry Potter alone and unprotected.

With Hermione and Ron busy, you saw the perfect opportunity to get closer to Harry. The day was clear and calm, and the library was almost deserted. Harry was sitting at one of the tables, studying alone, his concentration interrupted only occasionally by looks of concern.

In the following hours, you adopted a meticulous surveillance strategy, remaining discreet and observant while following Harry Potter's movements. At every moment, you him through the corridors of Hogwarts, keeping a safe distance so as not to raise suspicions. His goal was clear: to wait for the right moment to intervene and ensure that he could follow Harry's footsteps for Tom Riddle's diary.

The library, where you were often nearby, became your observation post. On some occasions, you infiltrated the common areas and spent time in strategic corridors, always with a watchful eye on any sign that could indicate the boy's plans.

It was on a particularly quiet afternoon, while you were leaning discreetly against one of the walls of the corridor near the women's bathroom, that something caught your attention. Harry was alone, his hesitant steps echoing down the deserted corridor. He seemed to follow a voice that no one else could hear, an expression of curiosity and confusion on his face.

The scene aroused your interest immediately. Harry approached the women's bathroom with a fixed look, almost hypnotized, following the inaudible sound. This place, in particular, carried an emotional weight for you. It was the same bathroom where you and Tom Riddle had spent intimate and secret moments during your youth. It was also the entrance to the Secret Chamber, a vital place for his plans.

You hid in the shadows, watching carefully as Harry stood in front of the bathroom door. He hesitated for a moment, looking around as if trying to understand the origin of the voice that called him. His heart beat faster when he saw his interaction with the family environment. The old walls and dusty mirrors looked like silent witnesses of the past, preserving the secrets and history of his love with Tom.

Harry entered the bathroom, and the door closed smoothly behind him. You knew that could be the moment you were waiting for.

With your mind boiling with excitement and a renewed desire to achieve your goal, you waited patiently. The anticipation of finally being able to recover his beloved Tommy and the certainty that the moment was approaching filled his heart with a mixture of hope and anxious expectation.

After a few minutes, you decided to follow Harry. Entering the women's bathroom, nostalgia enveloped him when he remembered the moments shared with Tom there. Each step he took brought her closer to the achievement of his goal. Harry's presence there meant that something important was about to happen, and you were determined to ensure that the plan to bring Tom Riddle back was realized.

You moved forward, your breathing controlled, moving with the grace and caution of a predator. When he entered the bathroom, he saw Harry standing in front of a sink, murmuring words that activated the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. A smile of satisfaction appeared on his lips. The way was open, and you were ready to follow Harry and recover the diary that meant so much to you and Tom.

Harry looked around one last time, then disappeared through the secret entrance. Without wasting time, you followed him, descending through the depths of the Secret Chamber, each step bringing you closer to your final goal.

Nothing could stop you from bringing your boyfriend back, not even the famous Harry Potter. After all, you had promised Tom eternity together, and you were willing to do anything to fulfill that promise.

With the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets open, you followed Harry carefully, keeping yourself in the shadows so as not to be detected. The narrow passage widened as they advanced, revealing a path of stones flanked by statues of imposing snakes. The air was humid and cold, and the smell of mold impregnated the environment.

The tension increased with each step. The statues of snakes, with their eyes fixed and mouths open, seemed to watch you as you advanced. The dim light reflected on the damp stones, creating a gloomy and mysterious environment. In the background, an immense sculpture of Salazar Slytherin's face dominated the space, his stern gaze seeming to judge anyone who dared to enter that sacred place.

You stayed in the shadows, watching as Harry approached the center of the chamber. His heart beat faster when he saw Gina Weasley lying on the floor, apparently unconscious. Harry ran to her, kneeling next to her and trying to wake her up with evident despair.

- Gina! Wake up, please! Gina!

You saw the frustration and fear in Harry's eyes as he insisted that Gina wake up. He shook her slightly, trying to resuscitate her. But before he could make any progress, a familiar voice echoed through the walls of the chamber, making his heart jump.

- She's not going to wake up.

You recognized the voice instantly. It was Tom Riddle, or rather, a projection of his youth. He emerged from the shadows, his imposing presence and cold look fixed on Harry. Time seemed to stop as you watched the scene unfold, the presence of Tom filling the camera with a sense of power and authority.

Harry stared at Tom with a mixture of confusion and determination.

- Tom... Tom Riddle. - Harry stuttered. - What do you mean she won't wake up? Is she...?

- She's still alive, but by a thread. - Your acquaintance and beloved Tom Riddle was finally there.

Tom's footsteps approached Harry, who stared at him with a certain fear.

- Are you a ghost?

- A memory preserved in a diary for 50 years. - Slytherin corrected it.

Tom noticed Harry's wand fallen and picked it up. Harry still seemed worried about Gina, a little distracted to realize.

- She looks cold. Tom, and the basilisk? - Harry looked up and noticed his wand in Tom's hands. - Return my wand, Tom. - The boy used an authoritarian voice.

- Why? You won't need it. - Riddle replied simply.

- Look, we have to go. We need to save her. - Potter insisted.

- I don't think I can do that, Harry. - He paused. - While Gina gets weaker, I get stronger.

It was at that moment that you decided to get out of the shadows. Harry, surprised to see you there, tried to position himself to protect her.

- Y/N, get out of here! He's dangerous! - Harry shouted, the concern evident in his voice.

But you just smiled and took a few steps towards Tom, ignoring Harry's warning. Her eyes fixed on the familiar and beloved face, Tom's expression softening slightly when recognizing her.

- Y/N? - Tom murmured, a mixture of surprise and recognition in his voice.

You nodded, the emotion evident in your eyes.

- Tom... Finally. - you said, the voice choked. - I spent 50 years looking for you, waiting for this moment.

Harry watched the scene, just shocked and confused.

- Y/N, what are you doing? He's trying to hurt Gina!

Tom reached out, and you took it without hesitation, feeling the familiar warmth of your touch.

- Y/N... my dear. - Tom said softly, his eyes fixed on yours. - I missed you so much. Every second away from you was an eternity.

- You have no idea how long I waited for this. - You answered, the emotion overflowing as I hugged you.

Harry, still processing the revelation, was trying to find a way to save Gina and prevent Tom's plans. But Tom's presence by your side and his growing power made it clear that you would not let anything or anyone interfere in your reunion.

Tom held his hand firmly, his dark eyes full of determination. Harry, still trying to understand what was happening, took a step forward, desperate to save Gina and understand the situation.

- Y/N, that's crazy! He's dangerous! - Harry begged.

You looked at Harry, without showing regret, just firmness. Tom, with Harry's wand in hand, turned to you, a cold smile on his lips as if admiring her.

Harry, confused and distressed, continued to look at you and Tom, paralyzed next to Gina's unconscious body. His expression was a mixture of shock and despair.

- Why, Y/N? How can you do that? - Harry managed to murmur, his voice full of frustration.

Tom gave an enigmatic smile.

- Harry, you can't understand. Y/N and I share a past that transcends any notion you may have. We were colleagues at Hogwarts, and our love was something deep and immortal. We made a promise of eternity that nothing and no one can undo.

Harry looked at Tom in disbelief.

- But... how did she not appear in the memories I saw? - Harry questioned, still trying to understand.

This time you answered coldly.

- Tom showed you only what he wanted you to see. There are many things you don't know, many hidden truths. I've always been by your side, even when you couldn't see it. - You pause, but then it continues. - Thank you for making things easier, Harry.

Tom began to resume his complete physical state, his presence solidifying as he again became an imposing and real figure. Harry, paralyzed next to Gina, watched feeling the failure on his shoulders.

_______________________________

masterlist

xoxo, bee 🫶🏼✨

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reiderwriter · 11 months ago

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🍷 Alcohol Free 🍷

Week 1 of my Playlist series! Inspired by Alcohol Free by TWICE.

Summary: You're the designated driver for half of your friends, and Spencer is the designated driver for the other half, so why do you feel so buzzed when you're around him? OR; taking every opportunity when you finally meet Spencer Reid for the first time ♡

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption, but reader and Spencer are both sober. A/N: Welcome to week 1 of the Playlist! I think we started with an absolute banger, and for such a fun, upbeat song with this, I had to make this a fluff (sorry to all my smut and angst enjoyed, please be patient 🫡). I hope you enjoy it! Don't forget to send me more song recs, as I'll be writing one follower chosen song fic per month 🥳

Check out my masterlist here~

“How much have you had to drink exactly, Pen?” You laugh as you watch her wobble back and forth, at her table.

“We started with champagne and wine. And then there was the cocktail round, so, a few margaritas here and there. And a mojito. Maybe a mimosa. I think a guy bought me a pint colada at the bar earlier,” her words were so sharp you almost couldn't believe she'd drank anything at all, but the fact that she said all this while swaying gently from side to side had you giggling at her antics.

“Don't forget the tequila!” Penelope's friend Emily groaned from the other side of the table then were gathered at, face already flat on the surface as if her hangover had already hit.

You'd been friends with Penelope for over a year now, so you were acquainted with all of the girls there, and had agreed to come and meet them on one of their girls nights out. You were never a big drinker though, so you offered to be the designated driver for the half of the gang that were committed to Uber-ing home.

They'd been drinking since the mid afternoon, and by the time you'd gotten off work and cleaned up for the bar, it was obvious that they were going to be a handful.

“Y/N, YOU'RE REALLY PRETTY, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?” JJ shouted from her seat beside you.

“Thank you, JJ, you already said that three times tonight. Maybe we should get you some water?”

“And so kind too, my princess in shining armour,” Penelope giggled.

For most people, being the only sober person on a night out was hell, but you found yourself enjoying it more and more as the years went by. Drunk women were so much like kindergarteners when they reaches a certain blood alcohol level, and you loved seeing what your usually serious and cool girlfriends would come up with.

You also wanted to make sure they stayed safe, and with the impressive list of multiple alcohols they'd just ingested, you wondered if you should be carting them off to the emergency room then and there.

“I THINK YOU'D LIKE MY FRIEND SPENCER. HE'S NERDY. YOU'D MAKE CUTE BABIES.” JJ was still shouting all of her words, despite the bar being relatively quiet and you almost did a spit take with your water as she kept on.

“Stop trying to marry Spence off, Jennifer.” Penelope giggled, over pronouncing JJ's name as if it were her first time ever using the word.

You'd heard a lot about this Spencer Reid since you'd become close with the girls at the table, and honestly, you were happy that JJ deemed you good enough for their Spencer.

From the sounds of it, all three of them nagged at him like elder sisters who found him endearingly annoying, and were fiercely protective of him. It made you curious.

“Are you seeing anyone, Y/N?” Emily asked, finally lifting her head up slightly, but in a way that made it look like it weighed 500 lbs more than usual.

“I'm not.”

“Why? You're smoking. Half the men in here have been circling your like sharks for the hour you've been here.” You laughed at that and pushed a bottle of water in Emily's direction again, encouraging her to take small sips of water.

“I'm being serious! I may be drunk beyond belief but this is a sober thought.”

“Emily, I love you, but none of these men are interested in me. I'm practically a spinster. I'm 27, I have no money and no prospects, yada yada, already a burden to my parents.”

“That was something nerdy, I know that was something nerdy, my Spencie Senses are tingling,” she quipped.

And as if right on cue, a quiet voice popped up from behind you and all the hairs on your neck stood on edge as it happened.

“It's a quote from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice movie, so it's not really all that nerdy, Emily.” You turned, slightly startled in your seat as you finally met the elusive Doctor Spencer Reid.

“SPENCE!” JJ cheered, and the other girls similarly whooped at his entrance. They were overjoyed, but you were slightly overwhelmed, because not once in their descriptions of Spencer Reid had they ever told you that he was quite possibly one of the hottest men to ever grace this good Earth.

His hair was slightly curly, a mess of waves flopping into his eyes, but shorter on the sides, highlighting his sculpted jaw. He was tall, on the lean side and craning your neck to look up at him was a happy experience to say the least.

He greeted his friends and looked down to you, and you felt all the blood suddenly rush to your brain when your eyes locked. Dear God.

“Spencer, this is Y/N, my wonderful, gorgeous, single and attractive friend. Say hello, Spencer.”

“Hello,” he gladly followed the instructions Penelope gave him, and you practically giggled at the sound of his voice. Giggled.

“Hello. I'm the wonderful, gorgeous, attractive Y/N,” you waved at him slightly, but your brain wouldn't stop thumping around as you enjoyed the sight of the man.

“Penelope actually told me about you before. You're working at the indie bookstore near Café Density, right? Castle Books? I got a first edition of T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats there a few months ago.”

“You!” You gasped the word, as a garage of words fell from your mouth in a stream. “You bastard, I was saving for months to buy that thing, and three days before my paycheck I turn up and it was gone! Oh my god, how does it smell? Are the pages mustard yellow or still A little white? They never let me touch it because I almost burst into tears every time I got close.”

To your astonishment, he didn't recoil from your spitfire speech, but laughed happily.

“It's great, the illustrations are amazing. I didn't know someone else had their eye on it when I went in, I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for finding treasure. You'd be a horrible pirate if you did that.” You brain really wasn't connected with your mouth anymore and you resisted the urge to turn and bolt away from the discussion.

“Thank you? I'm not a pirate, but I think that was a compliment.”

“See, nerds made in heaven, JJ was right.” The panic built up again slightly and you were sure your brain was going to explode with all the heat that was flooding to your face.

“What's JJ right about?” Reid inquired, and you almost grasped your chest to stop your heart from beating out of it when he cocked his head to the side.

You hadn't had a lick of alcohol the entire night, and yet you're entire body was reacting like it was drunk on Spencer Reid.

“Oh just that you and Y/N here would make beautiful-”

“BEAUTIFUL CONVERSATIONS HAPPEN.” You quickly cut Penelope off, sending her a warning look that was less subtle than just straight up telling her to shut her mouth.

“Can we go now?” Emily dropped her head to the table again as she threw out the words, looking suddenly three shades greener than she was a moment before. “I think that last shot was the drink that broke the camel's liver, and I'm the camel.”

You passed her the water again and slowly started to help your friends gently gather their things, noticing that Spencer was doing the same.

No wonder these girls were so protective of him if this is how well he treats them. He was their coworker, but he would have absolutely been confused for a filial son for any of the three women as he helped them each.

“Where do you live, Y/N?” He asked casually as you both helped the women out of the bar and into the fresh air. “My car is a bit small, but we can throw these three in the back together and they'll mostly sleep until they get back to their homes.”

“Oh no, you don't have to do that, I can go by myself-”

“I can't let a drunk woman go home by herself, Penelope would give me hell in the morning.” This earned a few giggles from the women beside you. You thought you heard Emily mumbling “some profiler he is,” under her breath as well.

You hesitated. You should've been explaining that you hadn't had anything to drink yet, that you actually drove here yourself and that your car was likely parked right by his. You should've offered to take at least one woman off his hands for the night to share the burden of making sure your friends didn't die.

But it was true that each of the women was likely to completely pass out when they got into the car, like newborns being rocked to sleep by their mothers. And that left Spencer Reid free for conversation.

“Thank you, that would be really nice, actually,” you smiled and followed the man to his car, lugging your wonderfully buzzed friends behind you.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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monstertreden · 2 months ago

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「RUFUS'S EXPENSIVE CAKE ORDER 」

-Reader: Written with a female reader in mind -TW: none -Character: Reno (Final Fantasy 7) -Summary: Rufus decided to purchase a unique tower cake to celebrate his successful new board meeting, leaving Reno with the task of safely retrieving it. -Word count : 774 -A/N: This is my first time writing, thus forgive me for some grammatical errors or if I didn’t exactly nail Reno’s character🧍‍♀️I'm open to any feedback! I need to get back on my FF7 old hypetrain

It’s another lazy afternoon at the Turks’ headquarters in Midgar. Everyone else had been dismissed hours ago and, since then, you’ve been texting Elena about the new shop you recently visited. Just now everything seemed so peaceful— oh so peaceful—until Reno bursts through the door, stumbling over his own feet and nearly crashing into the meeting table. His signature red hair is messier than usual... was that sour cream on his goggles..?

As soon as he stumbled, he quickly recomposed himself and adjusted the stray strands of hair that had fallen in front of his face, trying to look cool despite his grand entrance. "Alright-, listen- up pretty! We... got abitofasituationonourhands." He catches his breath and sits up beside you on the comfortable leather sofa, his arm draped over the backrest as he crosses his legs.

The gears in your head take a moment to process his words, then it hits you. You glance at him “Reno… shouldn’t you be working, instead of—whatever this is?” You gesture to his dishevelled appearance, plucking a strawberry from his hair. “Did you crash a wedding?”

“Pssh, nahh, plus I’m always workin’, no time for weddings...Heyy, listenn, hear me out, 'cause this is extremely serious” He leans in closer, a very exaggerated, overly dramatic, stare painted on his face, hands inching closer to the sides of your head, before impulsively shaking it.

“It’s the cake!”

“The hell are you talking about-“

"-A cake emergency!” Reno cuts you off ��Rufus ordered this, like, super deluxe, tower cake from that fancy bakery in Sector 1, right? It’s that kind of cake that costs more than our week's pay combined! But here’s the thing—Tseng’s definitely gonna kill me if I bring this to him."

"Wait, you’re delivering cakes now? Did Tseng promote you to be Rufus’s personal Uber driver?"

“It’s not ‘delivering,’ alright? It’s more like escorting— see, it’s a top-priority mission.”

He says it with an air of importance, puffing out his chest, but then quickly deflates as he realizes the state of the cake box he put on the table, the bakery label on it is so faded it’s unreadable.

"But I... kinda...smashed it..."

Reno sulks, holding the slightly crumpled cake box like it’s a priceless treasure, while you burst into laughter.

“You’re kidding, right? Ohhh, he’s going to be soooo mad.”

“Look, it’s still edible!” He taps the wrinkled package “It’s just, you know... restructured.”

He opens the box, revealing the once-perfect cake in a state of complete chaos. Macarons and strawberries are scattered everywhere, and the longer you stare at it, the more it resembles an abstract art piece than a cake.

"Yeah, good luck explaining that to Tseng—let alone Rufus.”

Reno, completely unfazed, grins at you as if he has a brilliant plan.

“That’s where you come in! You’re good at talking to people, aren't you? My favorite schemer! You just gotta, you know, help me spin this whole thing. Maybe we can blame Rude or something. He won’t mind. We could smash the cake on his bald head..."

He says it with a casual wave of his hand, as if throwing his partner under the bus is no big deal.

“Yeahh, no thanks. This one’s all yours, buddy. Have fun with that. I’m not taking the blame for your mess if we get caught.”

The redhead groans and slumps back on the sofa. "Man, I was hoping you’d go along with me. How can you not agree to this?”

Just then, your phone buzzes. Expecting another text from Elena, you glance down, only to see a message from Rude pop up instead:

Rude: "That idiot dropped the cake, didn’t he? Rufus is getting impatient with each passing minute"

"Rude’s onto you."

"Of course he is..."

With a sigh and a big cat stretch, Reno stands up, grabbing the cake box with a determined look, despite its sorry state.

"Alright, alright, I’ll fix this. Maybe if I just... slap it back together? Yeah, yeah, that’ll do. Thanks for the pep talk. You can keep whatever fell out of my hair! …Maybee give me a call if I don’t make it back in, let’s say... 40 minutes, m’kay?"

And with that, Reno rushes out of Tusk's headquarters, shouting back as the cake box nearly slips from his hands. “But if this works, you owe me a nice, expensive dinner!”.

His plan was bound to fail, regardless of what he attempted.

#I did try my best for this first writing🧍‍♀️#reno ff7 #final fantasy #final fantasy 7 #fanfic #reno x reader #ff vii #reno of the turks #turks #elena of the turks #rude of the turks #tseng of the turks #ff7 x reader #final fantasy x reader

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lilacxquartz · 6 months ago

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Those Late Summer Nights I Chapter 10

satoru gojo x f!reader × suguru geto

plot: you moved to tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. as you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

chapter summary: you were starting to feel a little overwhelmed with how much attention you had to divide between so many people and then in the midst of it all, something went terribly wrong.

warnings: dubcon

< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >

10. Just “Friends”

Back home at last, you chose to lay in bed until around four in the afternoon as you muddied your own mind with conflicting thoughts—trying to, hoping—to make sense of everything that had happened so far.

You weren’t quite looking forward to socialising with someone new, but you figured that if they were Shoko approved, then it was likely absolutely fine, so come the correct hour, you unstuck yourself from bed and entered a better state of mind.

Shoko introduced you to an equally nervous looking woman around her age standing right behind her. She was quite pretty, you thought as you looked at her; long dark hair and a scar over her face, kind eyes overlooking her features.

“This is Utahime,” Shoko said as she introduced you to her, “and Utahime, this is [name].”

You both awkwardly said that it’s nice to meet each other as you got settled on the sofa, Utahime brought out a couple of beers from a plastic bag as Shoko opted for a glass of wine instead.

“Any preference?” Utahime asked you, trying to be polite.

“Beer would be nice,” you accepted, not quite feeling the mood for heavier alcohol so soon.

She nodded accordingly in response as she cracked open two cans, seeming quite happy to share.

The conversation for the most part was carried initially by Shoko as you both carefully crossed the barrier in getting to know each other while you resisted the urge to spill too much of your trauma too soon, avoiding a repeat of the last time you spoke to new people.

When full comfort had been achieved, a mutual annoyance for Satoru emerged after a while of talking. Nothing too accusatory, but Utahime’s history with him seemed to paint him as a leading cause of her own stress while Shoko joked that he caused her smoking habit.

You didn’t really have a strong opinion on him just yet, but it was interesting to get to know him through the opinion of others. You wondered it with even Suguru before, thinking about the side he allowed you to get to know—thinking if Satoru was doing something similar to you.

Utahime and Shoko clinked their glasses and cans alike, announcing cheers for a peaceful evening and new company, because Shoko was right—you both did get along.

This newly formed comfort however was relatively short lived as soon as Satoru entered through the door, the celebration seeming to have been some type of summoning ritual for him instead.

“Hang on a sec,” Shoko said as she suddenly sat up, “how’d you get a key?”

She didn’t like that Satoru could just enter her apartment, choosing to come and go as he pleased. Her home was a sacred sanctuary for her own approved company and if he wanted to visit, he’d have to ask the same way as everyone else.

Utahime stared in mild disbelief, now wondering if she had managed to somehow hex herself as she stared bitterly off into her drink.

“Aww, don’t act that way~” Satoru purred as he continued to stroll inside, his hand arrogantly extending to reach out for someone to take hold of it, “we just need an extra person to get our usual table, otherwise they’ll just sit us at the smaller, worse table again.”

“Tough shit. I’m not abandoning Utahime to go be a table filler,” Shoko replied as she rolled her eyes, her hand playfully slapping his own away from her sight.

“I’m not going either,” Utahime replied.

“I-I can go otherwise?” you offered, presenting yourself as a sacrifice. You didn’t actually mind as it felt awkward enough already to third wheel between Shoko and her friend, since you could give them both a chance to catch up as you reconnected with the two people you already were familiar with.

“Don’t stoop to their level,” Shoko said, catching onto your wrist as you stood up, “let them suffer.”

“Ah, but she offered~” Satoru sang, tugging you away to the front door.

“I-It was nice to meet you, Utahime!” you called out as you quickly found yourself dragged outside into the stairwell, barely having time to grab onto your bag and shoes.

Suguru stood outside as he waited, his back leaning against the wall with a knee bent to balance himself.

Satoru walked down first as you followed, Suguru closing in from behind as he watched you go downstairs. In truth, this was his plan all along because he knew that Shoko would be occupied with Utahime and when Satoru showed up at his own place wanting to hang out, he knew that his friend was still burdened with clan responsibilities so he could still end his night with you—if he could help it.

He still felt some conflicting feelings about you getting closer to Satoru, which was exactly why he chose to hang out with him tonight in tow, wanting to keep tabs as to what you were up to at all times to make sure that nothing else blossomed beyond that kiss.

He did seem to understand though, that you didn’t think that the kiss itself was genuine so in his mind, what he was doing was closer to prevention; ensuring that Satoru didn’t try to talk you into doing anything else.

(While Suguru himself talked you into other things.)

You continued to walk in between the two of them to the bar, fully unaware at what festered away in the back of their minds. Suguru’s hand brushed on and off around your hips, guiding you a certain direction as you passed through thicker crowds. Satoru on the other hand occasionally would pull the two of you in as he walked and talked, sensing that you didn’t pull back as much anymore.

In reality, you were slightly buzzed from the maybe two cans of beer you had. They were tall cans and you didn’t quite care to push either of them away, leading them both to have the same type of curiosity invade their minds; could they go even further?

You settled off into the booth you got to know them both at on the night it had all began, sitting opposite with an empty spot beside you instead. Suguru ordered a bottle of sake for a change, pouring the three of you a glass each.

The topics of discussion were trivial for now, at least the ones that you could keep up with anyway. Things like your opinions on Utahime and the discussion of what Satoru was up to for the most part of the day occupied the conversation.

Then at some point during it all, Satoru got a phone call that he couldn’t avoid, zoning off into the distance as he talked himself through it.

“Just my luck,” Satoru sighed as he ended the call, “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow.”

His tone sounded a little resigned but he tried to smile through the annoyance he harboured, refusing to sour the mood. He didn’t want to be constantly away, especially not during what was supposed to be his time off—but he wasn’t in a position to refuse his responsibilities either.

“Think they’ll bother you this much when work starts up again?” Suguru asked him.

“Probably not, no,” Satoru replied, “I’m probably being pestered so much because they know I have time to spare.”

“Must be difficult being so important,” Suguru teased him.

“You know me, the strongest and the most important,” he continued to joke even if his demeanour did continue to dampen.

When he left, the staff asked you both to downsize to a smaller table anyway to make room for the other customers as the establishment quickly filled out with more and more customers. Suguru didn’t really mind this development as he continued to top you up more, slowly drinking his own glass as you continued to finish off one glass after another, finding yourself a little bit too tipsy to think properly.

It was then that he moved just a little bit closer, playing the current situation into his hands with successful ease this time.

“You know, my place isn’t too far from here,” he spoke deliberately, allowing dangerous words playing off of his tongue in a tempting melody, “Shoko’s probably still busy with Utahime, probably best not to disturb ‘em,” he leaned a little forward as he spoke, “feel like relaxing at mine for a bit?”

You hesitated initially, wondering if by accepting that you were accepting something that you shouldn’t be. You didn’t want to lead him any more than you already had, either.

“I have my own room at Shoko’s you know, I can just wait it out there,” you replied, trying to establish a boundary right away.

“Yeah but, you wouldn’t want to impose right? Besides, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, [name],” he continued to say, coaxing you into his reach, “it would be just for a little while, we’d both sober up and I’ll even walk you back.”

“I mean…” you continued on as you started to slightly panic, your gut instinct telling you to pull away.

“I do this all the time with Shoko and Satoru,” Suguru continued to lie, knowing fully well that he doesn’t really allow anyone into his home, “I just think you need to relax a bit, that’s all.”

“B-but, doesn’t it seem weird if I go back with you while I’m this drunk?” you asked.

“Why would it be weird?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want to be heard by others.

“B-because, like, I don’t know-“

Suguru interrupted you as you spoke, trying his best to remain patient while he had you all alone, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. We don’t do anything bad, we’ll just watch a movie or something to wait it out.”

“B-but-“

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked you, seeming a little colder.

“I-I mean, I guess I do…” you considered it again, foolishly trusting him to not do anything just because he said that he wouldn’t, the alcohol clouding your judgement.

“Just to unwind, yeah?” he repeated himself, luring you in. “It’s not like I’m asking you to spend the night, right?”

“R-Right.”

Still, some type of danger lurked. You were agreeable right now, drunk and easily swayed. Some type of looming threat filled his all too promising tone, seeming almost deceitful.

Your own gut instinct was telling you to reject him a second time, a third time if you really had to do so—but you didn’t do a single thing.

Instead, in the peak of your inebriated judgement you chose to trust him because he was your friend and because he promised you something so simple and yet so major.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

At least not like that.

(Would he?)

~~~

The walk back with Suguru felt strangely quiet but it was relatively a short journey just as he had promised you. He kept your body steady as he walked you back to his home, keeping you from tripping over your own feet.

To some extent, he wondered if he should actually be taking it this far with you given that you couldn’t even walk straight—but he wouldn’t be forceful, he’d only go as far as you’d let him.

His place was probably the most central out of all of the places you had been so far, not counting Satoru’s place as you hadn’t yet been there.

Suguru continued to carefully handle you as he sat you down on his bed, his movements feeling all a little too personal and calculated. His hand drifted back to your thighs to test the waters of your own lacking sobriety as his other hand swooped in to meet around your waist.

“So, [name], I’m sorry but I gotta ask you something,” he spoke up after a short moment of silence, doing his best to continue to keep his tone as kind as possible, not wanting to scare you in any way, shape or form.

“Huh?” you replied, suddenly catching onto the idea that he might have wanted something from you, only just now registering that his hands were on you, too.

You were still trying to keep as soberly passing as you could be, but the strange mood and the new environment felt disorienting, even if you had already been in here before.

“You haven’t been with anyone, right?” he asked you as his eyes locked onto yours, the question he asked you seemed important to him for some reason. “You’ve not slept with anyone?”

Usually, he didn’t even care about this sort of thing—but something about you being being one was making him go crazy, in an almost possessive kind of way.

It felt wrong for him to admit it, but he felt entitled to you—not just for a quick fuck either, but something permanent.

He wanted you.

“Yes, but don’t laugh-“

“—I’m not asking to make fun of you.”

“Then why?”

He sighed as he looked back at you, wondering if it was best to just let you fall asleep or to take you back to your apartment and forget that this conversation almost ever happened.

But something told him to hold onto you, wanting to see just how far it could all go.

“I have a dilemma with you, that’s all it is,” he admitted, scooting a little towards you so that he sat closer. It was difficult for him to get the right words out as he had to find a reasonable way to explain that he didn’t want others to get close to you, to make you understand exactly what type of madness was going rampant through his head.

It was difficult to form something coherent that didn’t sound like he wanted to use you, because that wasn’t his intention at all.

“A dilemma?” you asked, your words slurring against your tongue.

“Don’t get with anyone else,” he asked you, the hold he had on your thigh seeming to tighten as he talked, his other hand pulling you closer as he dared tempt something he might regret, “it makes me unwell just thinking about it, I don’t even know why.”

Your words initially got caught in your throat as you failed to produce a response—even currently drunk, you understood what he was trying to imply.

And yet, not a single word could come out.

“Don’t hate me for saying it, but,” he sighed again, not letting you move let alone get away, “I want for you to allow me to…”

“No,” you finally choked out, not letting him finish off his sentence that he barely got to begin with. You understood what he wanted to ask you and you weren’t ready, even when this drunk, you knew that much.

Suguru stared at you as he took that rejection somehow in continued stride, fully well having anticipated that exact answer. He never once expected you to directly accept his offer, knowing that it would be insane for you to do so.

Instead, his plan was to actually ease you into it; to build up a gradual acceptance on your side, to get you close to him before anyone else could.

Dating was too slow—he wanted to get to you sooner, before you could catch onto what’s going on, before you could simply just leave.

It was wrong for him to do so, he knew it, but his own desire was overwhelming his sense of reason and he had to do it, or else he’d actually do something he regretted.

So to him, this was a more diluted path.

“Look, I’m the only one who really gets you, right? I’m the only one who can look out for you properly,” he continued to say, “and I’m the only one who would stick around with you after, [name], because let me make one thing abundantly clear—this world is cruel.”

You continued to zone out as he spewed out words he thought you were genuinely considering when the reality was that you were trying to keep yourself from passing out in his company.

You knew exactly where he was going with this, you weren’t that unaware and oblivious, his intentions were apparent from the very moment he put his hands on you in the car but you weren’t still entirely sure how he went from ignoring your texts from days on end, to wanting to get in bed with you.

Something must have happened last night, otherwise why else did he know to ask you certain things?

“I’m just saying, [name],” he said as he pinched your chin, making you face him directly, “Satoru got a taste, but he didn’t appreciate you, did he?”

“I-I mean n-no, but-“

“—did he make you feel anything?”

“He never meant to.”

“But don’t you want to feel something, anyway?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Because, I want you to feel things.”

He didn’t give you a whole lot to work with, nor any time to think for yourself as this conversation continued back and forth. His body continued to otherwise slowly towards you the same way, regardless of what you said, his lips seeking yours out as you moved back in retaliated discomfort.

Suguru continued to play the part of someone who appeared reasonable, nodding and pulling back to respect your decision. He was going to get to you either way, so your rejection didn’t hurt him because as long as he got with you before Satoru did, then he will have won.

He reconsidered his options as an almost unhinged expression manifested on his face, tightening his hold on your body as he surrendered to a flow of worrying ideas.

You internally panicked as this all unfolded, doing your best to perhaps foolishly hold onto his friendship while also pushing back on his advances, entering a point in your own psyche where you had no idea what you truly wanted either.

Certain words stuck, like Satoru stealing your first kiss and the fact that you felt nothing from it. Shoko got the title of your first real friend and Suguru sported the title of your first date, even if it was platonic. To circle back to Satoru, he had the honour of being the first guy you introduced to your parents; so no wonder it all seemed so confusing if he even liked you at all.

Your friends were out here taking away all of your firsts that were meant to be special moments shared with someone you could trust, instead being snatched away by this strange new group of people at every whim.

The lack of it all being genuine except for the friendship was starting to eat away at you, realising that such rapid progression was beginning to hurt you in a way you didn’t truly understand.

But… you were still left unsure.

Was he making such a big deal out of this because he actually cared—or did he simply want to play you, to get into your pants?

As you continued to hold off on his advances, he finally let you go of you to find your own way, intending to just vent to you instead. You’d listen to him whether you wanted to or not, so he took advantage of that opportunity as it happened.

“I’m just feeling some kind of way, [name],” he said, surrendering a chunk of his feelings.

He continued to stare at you, feeling a little guilty as he continued to do so—this damn feeling just wasn’t going away.

“I think I like you and I don’t want to share, that’s all.”

“I-I can kind of get it, I think,” you finally said after a while, giving him an opening of sorts if only by complete accident, “but,” you were to still quick to stifle, “I don’t want to do anything I might regret and that includes with you, too.”

He nodded as you spoke, completely understanding the exact sort of direction to take with you now much to your unassuming dismay; you were simply shy in his eyes, inexperienced and not quite used to this sort of thing and he could work with that—to make you his before anyone else could even have such a chance.

He wanted to stick around, to give into those strange and confusing feelings that have otherwise been eating him alive for the last couple of weeks.

“So, how about we start off slow?” Suguru suggested, moving into closing off the gap with you once again, “I don’t want you to regret a single thing with me.”

“I-I still don’t really know-“ you considered, not quite saying no directly. He wasn’t backing off even if he did drop the subject concerning your virginity, being pushy in a whole other sort of way.

“Don’t you like me too?” Sugur asked you, trying to find something that might not have been there.

“I-I do, but you know, as a frie-“

He cut you off again, not letting you finish that sentence, “Don’t say it. We’ve got something going on that’s better than just being friends.”

“W-we do?” you slurred a little.

“Can’t you feel it too?” he asked, leaning closer again.

“I mean, I don’t know, this is all too sudden for me and I don’t even know you that well,” you admitted, trying not to give into the pressure, you didn’t want to be something temporary or casual to someone you were trying to just be friends with.

“Then get to know me,” he whispered, “nobody else will appreciate you like I do.”

By then, you felt the booze hit your body a bit harder too now that it has had time to simmer; suddenly you couldn’t quite sit still, let alone agree or disagree.

He leaned into your lips without any protest on your end, despite your lacking consent to continue onwards; the smell of stale cigarettes exhaled into your mouth as he finally connected this kiss. His tongue pushing itself into your mouth, wrestling it with your own—your own muscle reluctantly following suit, despite not really knowing exactly what to do.

Your vision blurred as you barely kept up; you never did express consent nor give him the green light to continue, but every time you considered speaking up, your words would either slur or they never made it out of your mouth to begin with.

“Relax, you can keep your mouth still if it’s easier for you,” he said as he pulled back, his dark eyes intently focusing on you, “I’ll lead the way.”

Once again, he didn’t give you an opportunity to reply as he quickly resumed his pursuit of you; his mouth reconnecting with yours as his breath so hot and heavy rippled waves down your chin—his tongue flickering against the tip of your own as it fought back involuntarily, trying to move it away.

You felt as his hand then crept towards your own, grabbing onto the back of it as he slowly guided you into his trousers; straight past the waistband and slipping into an even deeper layer so that you could feel his, his—oh—were you feeling his—?

You froze as you now had a burning compulsion to pull away but your head pushed up against his face as his free hand held your skull in place—fingers weaving between interlocked strands of your hair, bringing you forward and tugging at your lips with his teeth, keeping you tethered to him.

Using the hand that held your own hostage, he moved you in so that your hand filled out with the length of his meat; your fingers wrapping around it as he then moved your hand up and down in a particular motion, encouraging you to keep up.

Maybe this was more than just taking it slow—but fuck, he was so turned on.

“Can you keep that going for me?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously playful as he clearly was enjoying this moment.

You couldn’t vocally protest in the meantime nor shake or nod as he kept you subdued in a specific sort of state, so you kept it up either way because you were too overwhelmed to break away.

Not that he would allow for you to do so either way.

This was too good for him—he felt too good, so fucking good and he hadn’t even gone all the way yet. He wouldn’t yet. He knew now that he should savour this, to build it up.

He pulled further back from the kiss as your saliva trailed over your chin, webbing between his own—curious to see exactly how you were doing, realising that you might be struggling to keep up as someone with virtually zero experience with this sort of thing, while also wanting to get you used to this sort of state.

You continued to get into it and kept up to his requested pace along his shaft as he finally moved the hand that otherwise kept you glued to him to slip in between your legs, finally getting just a little further. He moved in smoothly, his hands brushing up the skirt and pushing past your underwear—his fingertips finally exploring the slick wetness you kept so well hidden.

To his amusement, he could see just how turned you actually were based on how soaked you were as well as the blush that formed on your face, even if your expression was a little unreadable.

In reality, you were equal parts confused and rosy red from the liquor settling in your system, keeping up but just barely.

You knew that this was wrong, that he never even asked you if this was okay to do, but you’ve also been so confused in this past couple of weeks.

You didn’t know what you were feeling.

“You’re doing so well, [name],” Suguru continued to purr into your ear, “wanna let me help you feel good too?”

“U-um,” you managed to reply, although still not using proper words.

“Trust me, I just want you to enjoy yourself,” he tried to reassure.

There it was; that confusing feeling again. You felt cornered as you considered accepting his quickly approaching advances, even given the position you were locked into. His hand rested near you, delicately parting you using his fingers—his touch was pleasant and warm and he wasn’t hurting you at all, but it still felt so terribly fucking wrong.

So, when he continued to once again move in despite not getting a verbal confirmation, he wrongfully read into your lacking say in the matter as a green light, thinking that because you weren’t screaming no or for him to stop despite your body language gesturing at something different was simply because you were shy.

Oh no, he didn’t even think to consider that you were simply too drunk to comprehend a single thing to begin with.

His fingers continued to slide into your heat, pushing over the opening and searching for something else in particular; your clit from what it felt like, focusing his efforts on there as his fingertips started to trace circles right around it.

Suguru enjoyed watching your reactions, his dark eyes finding light in your expressions and reactions—your own thighs quivering from his touch, trembling as you approached your limit.

He of course wanted to push you even further, wanting nothing more than to see you be needy and to moan his name; to beg him to let him fuck you, but he couldn’t be too greedy, at least not yet.

He’d slowly break you in, convinced that there was something about the chemistry that you both shared; feeling certain that there was absolutely something there, even if you couldn’t quite see it just yet.

So as he continued to gently swirl around your budded flesh and as your breathing quickly grew shallow; cheeks bruising cherry red, your insides coiling from his pressing touch—he too, got sent over the edge just from the sight of you alone.

At the same time though, that invading thought relented, daring him to go just a little further despite you not being ready; wanting nothing more than to taste your neck, to nip on your skin and petal behind lovebites, to push himself deep inside of you and feel just how soaked you were—but, but… he had to refrain, to hold himself back, at least for now, remembering that he didn’t want for you to regret him, so he finally pulled back from you.

His breath shuddered as you finished up on him, his face tightening as he clenched his jaw, eyelids fluttering as he started to finish, remembering to complete the same for you.

You squeezed your legs tight as you enveloped his hand, a rising need to finally seek out release; his circling motions finally coaxing out rolling pleasure as waves of warmth coursed through your body, a reaction that caused you to almost whimper breathlessly.

He pulled you closer as you finished, practically leaning into a hug against your body; his face rubbing against your own as he feverishly kissed you, his hand guiding yours as he finally got closer and closer to—but not yet, closer—to—

“Go a bit faster he breathed into your mouth, demanding release, “be a good girl for me—please, fuck.”

You listened to him as you accelerated the tempo against his dick; feeling a little more at ease from his continued flow of praise and encouragement until you felt his cock twitch, his breath hitch and finally empty himself at the mercy of your hand. Hot white ropes shooting without aim, causing a mess for you both.

He breathed in deep to recollect himself, still leaning against you before finally peeling himself away from you, allowing you to take back your hand and to find your ground again.

Guilt however then started to surface as he saw just how drunk you still were, leading him to finally seek out his own senses as he paused in his own tracks, leading you carefully to the bathroom before getting you cleaned up before returning back into bed with him.

There wasn’t a single chance in hell that you were going back home, even if he were to walk you all the way back and tucked you into bed himself.

He didn’t want a single person to be near you currently, not even Shoko and he trusted her.

So as you fell asleep beside him, your side occupying the usually vacant space against his chest, he felt a new sort of emotion plant itself and bloom, knowing that you were both in trouble if he continued to keep this up, just like that realisation many weeks ago.

Knowing fully well that he still wasn’t going to stop.

Not at all.

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afrowrites · 4 months ago

Text

Norman F Rockwell

Black reader (plus size too!) x Homelander

Your a hardworking widow and single mother who works at vought in the graphics department, when a certain all American hero is intrigued by the sight of you, or maybe the scent of you...

Warnings: Stalking, Mentions of Death.

Wordcount: 1,891

Rating: Teen and up

A woman stands alone with her ten-year-old son weeping next to her, her stomach holds the last legacy of her husband. And as they lower him into the ground a rifle can be heard to signify a fallen soldier. And a single tear runs down the woman's face knowing she must stay strong.

“~[Your name]~, did you get the final layout for the Homeboy Kids’ book yet?” She asked as she turned towards her coworker's voice, “Oh yeah, I got them, they look pretty good with all things considered.”

The woman smiled, proud of her co-workers' adherence to her notes.

“Well, that's good, because you have to present them to Ashley today.” The woman said, dropping a bomb and slipping out of her office.

“Wait, I have to do what?!” You half shout.

You frantically search your emails trying to figure out why today you had to present in less than…

“Oh shit! I gotta do this in an hour!”

You were wearing your comfiest business casual clothes but were not ready to entertain your boss today, and the email mentioned that others would be attending. ‘Probably those weirdo's in marketing.’ You thought to yourself.

You stumble down the hallway towards Ashley's office, holding your layout tubes while trying to zip up the back of your skirt. Thank God you had an emergency “I didn't just have a baby” outfit and some heels.

You fluff your afro up, put on some lipgloss, take a deep breath and open the door to walk into Ashley’s office.

You could see Ashley's permanent furrowed brow shift into a fake plastered smile she gave to all her employees when trying to save face.

“Good afternoon, miss {Your Name}. Have a seat, please”

“Sure” you answer, feeling a bit awkward.

Seth and Evan are engaged in a calm conversation, tucked away in the secluded corner of the room. Meanwhile, you're absorbed in organizing your layouts, your back to the entrance, when the sharp sound of a door swinging wide pierces the silence. Out of the periphery of your vision, you notice the room's occupants abruptly rise to their feet in a unified, almost military precision.

"Uh, Homelander, welcome," she greets with a strained smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, her voice tinged with a detectable quiver betraying her anxiety. Indeed, the atmosphere has shifted palpably; a heavy cloak of tension settles over the room, making the air itself seem laden with foreboding.

“Ashley,” he notes her presence. Uninterested.

“ Hey Seth, Evan, good to see you.” Now a hint of sarcastic enthusiasm sets in his voice.

He sets down into his chair, and as he sits he turns his head to you. He sniffs the air realizing something. Even before you'd know, he finds you leaking, and suddenly his interest in you increases tenfold and with a sudden interest in you he introduces himself.

“Why hello there,” his devilish grin and piercing blue eyes startle you, “you know it's a shame I never get to meet all the wonderful people here working at Vought, what's your name Ms…?”

“Rodriguez, although people just call me [your name].” You smile professionally.

“Well Ms.Rodriguez,” he takes your hand in his, brushing your soft knuckles before planting a kiss on them. “I do hope to enjoy your presentation.” As he gave you a soft wink.

You find his introduction performative but also slightly genuine.

The marketing guys gave their little spiel on how to market the homelander’s son, Ryan.

You soon make a suggestion. “I believe that would go well with young adult males, but we aren't thinking of the bigger picture here. We know how Homelander is when it comes to women.”

You see his jaw tighten, so you tread lightly when you continue.

“We’ve already seen the comic books, so how about we take a look at something more child-like for mothers, show the soft story about Homelander becoming a father raising a child all on his own, raising him to be a good American hero.”

The market guys roll their eyes and scoff in protest, but before they can open their mouths you hear clapping.

“Wow that’s… well that's good,” To you he sounds almost genuine but his mind is still working on you. You breathe a sigh of relief at his approval.

You mutter off a “thank you, sir.” And scurry back to your seat.

After muttering a quick, “Thank you, Sir.”, you scurry back to your seat.

“Well I think this has been a great meeting, thank you all for being here. I-”

Homelander interrupts, “Ms.Rodriguez may I have a moment to ask you something?.”

Stunned, you respond, “Oh-uh sure,” you give him a weak smile.

“Great,” he grins a menacing grin. “Let's take a walk.”

It's quiet for the first few minutes, almost bone-chilling . He clears his throat to break the silence.

“So, Rodriguez. What do you do here?” He asks in a way that sounds like he's interested but also way too critical.

“Well sir, I work in graphics and art, but I do most kid's artwork and stuff.” You chuckle nervously.

He nods at your answer, and he continues, “Well I think that is just super!” He still smells your body producing his favorite thing (well maybe second favorite thing).

He continues the walk in silence until you guys reach your office, he scans around the room trying to find ways to see you more often. Until he sees, “Oh, you have a family,” you turn the picture towards him.

“Oh yeah, my babies,” you sigh at missing them. “Rafael and America.”

“Wow, what a name for such a cute baby,” he feigns interest because as stated before he's only interested in what's under your skirt.

“Yeah, their father named them.” You feel a sharp twist in your heart when mentioning your husband's name, Homelander sees this and with his well-learned acting exclaims, “Whatever he did to you I'll get him.” He places a hand on your shoulder as he jokes with you.

You look up at him with teary eyes before wiping them away. “Oh no it’s not that my husbands not with us anymore.”

He feels indifferent to your plight, yet he pulls you in for a comforting hug. He smells like warm spices but underneath he smells metallic almost of blood. It’s unnerving.

He releases you from his grip, only to take a long look down and clear his throat.

“Hmmm I think you might wanna…,” You look down horrified. You're leaking.

Standing at your threshold, the rich oakwood panels seem to reach out, inviting you into the warm embrace of home. Before your hand can grace the knocker, your mother-in-law materializes, her eyes alight with the joy of your arrival. "Hola mami!" Your greeting is tinged with fatigue, yet her presence ushers in comfort. "Hola, {insert Spanish nickname}, how was your day?" Her inquiry is simple, yet it's the undercurrent of genuine concern that touches you. "Well, Mami, to be honest, it was a bit perplexing..." you admit, the words trailing off as you grapple with the day's events.

Your exchange is gently fractured by the delightful pattern of small feet drumming against the floor, a familiar and heartwarming cadence. It's a sound that signals the arrival of one of the most precious joys in your life, a guiding light that brightens even your darkest days. The architect of your daily smiles, your cherished child, the ever-sweet Rafi, bounds toward you. This tiny being, the center of your universe, radiates unadulterated happiness, infusing your mornings with meaning and your heart with boundless love.

"Hey, Mamacita!," He says,

"Hey there, Papito" you greet, the corners of your mouth turning up in a weary but warm smile. "You're not gonna guess who I bumped into today!"

His eyes sparkle with curiosity. "Who was it?"

"The one and only, most amazing superhero of all time!"

Glancing down, you notice he's clutching his beloved Homelander action figure, its edges frayed and colors faded from love and time. It was a gift from his dad. The sight fills you with a bittersweet mix of joy and a pang of sorrow, knowing the layers of memories it holds.

Sighing, you reply, “Well I met the one and only…”, pause for dramatic effect, “HOMELANDER!” You see his gorgeous little eyes light up, you love to see your little guy happy. He jumps around the house as his grandma yells at him.

“Papito! You're gonna wake the…,” she’s already too late. And as your second little bundle of joy starts to cry, your mother-in-law is about to get the spoon on Rafi, “Don’t worry mami, it’s fine I wanted to see my baby anyway.” You smile at her as you trudge towards your baby's room. “Hey Meri, how’s my girl doing?” You coo at her. She has your husband’s beautiful green eyes, gorgeous fluffy curls and chubby cheeks. You hold her close to you, your heartbeat calms her down. You sit for a while ignoring the noise from the street corner thinking of when her father took you to New Mexico,

(~Flashback~)

The evening air is warm and the breeze carries the simple romance of the night through the air. He cradles you in his soft loving arms as the stars pale in comparison to the sparkle of his eyes peering into your own.

“Y’know (y/n), I was just thinking,” “Oh that’s never good.” You snicker to yourself.

“Hey, that hurts.” He pretends to get shot in the chest. “Whatever,” You roll your eyes

“Well, what I was going to say was, what if we get married…” He sheepishly says that last part.

“Um well, to be honest, I want to, after all, little Rafi-,” He interrupts. “Or Meri, I plan on having ten beautiful girls, well eleven because of you.’

You laugh a hearty laugh. “Yeah right, let’s just focus on the first one, but yeah I wanna be married.”

“Okay great because I have this ring in a box and I didn’t know who I was gonna give it to.” He yawns sarcastically.

You wide-eyed stare at him for a little, until it sinks in. You sit up and push his shoulders to the ground. “Oh my God!” You kiss his face all over.

“Hey mami, watch the baby. They ain’t finished yet.” He chuckles “I love you, baby.” he smiles with his gorgeous lips.

“I love you too, papito.” You lean in for a kiss all while smiling into his lips. And while you once again fall in love, your favorite song plays.

~Como la flor, Con tanto amor, Me Diste tu~

“Se Marchitó, Me marcho hoy,” You sing to the bittersweet words of Selena, “ Yo sé perder, Pero a-a-ay, cómo me duele, A-a-ay, cómo me duele.”

The smells of your cooking penetrate the room and seep out of your window into the cold air of a New York night, the warmth and love from your kitchen emanating from your apartment.

Unfortunately for you, a certain pair of eyes enjoyed your little performance, and the ethnic food smelled to him albeit too much spice for his taste, he could still feel a distant mother’s love through those smells.

And when you decided to close the window, he took that as a challenge to get into your life and ruin it.

127 notes · View notes

jillsandwhichs · 5 months ago

Text

Our Future Day's

Joel Miller x Reader series , Chap 1 , Move in day

Masterlist

Pairing: Fem!reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You officially move from oregan to texas and get to meet your very new & handsome neighbor, Joel

WC: 3.1k

Type: SFW

Some thing's you need to know before reading: this is a series, not a one shot collection! you (the reader) already have a semi premade backstory. first off, you're originally from oregon. you studied at med school and got a job offer in texas to become a doctor, which you took. you are 23 in this but if you don't like that, imagine any age (18+) and i did make joel younger 26 (until the 20 year time jump, he'll be 46) but he does still have sarah, just pretend it's not wonky LMAO! one more thing, ya have a dog in this fic, he's a boy but imagine any breed you'd like! aside from that, this is tlou game version but i included some sides from the show! a couple more things: 1. all characters from tlou1/2 will be mentioned/featured. 2. this takes place before outbreak, then eventually outbreak day, then eventually in the apocalypse. 3. this is a slow burn romance (drabbles of it in each chapter though, esp when it progresses) and does feature a decent amount of smut. 4. JOEL NEVER DIES!!!

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Thank you

Tapping your fingers on the steering wheel, you matched the beat of the song playing on your cars radio. It was a song by Blake Shelton. You weren't a huge fan of him but he had some classics. It has been such a long day for you. You've been driving for the past two hours, not a single break in between. You just wanted to get to your new home as soon as you could. You could tell your dog, Becker, needed to go potty as well. He'd just have to hold out.

The GPS on your phone stated you were only about ten minutes away. The center of Austin TX was busy as all hell, so that time span could get longer by the second. So many cars & people flooded the streets. "God dammit." You mumbled to yourself, rolling your eyes as you seen all the upcoming traffic ahead. This was going to be a long night. You had no clue when you'd even be able to get into bed. Then again, it was only 4:30 in the afternoon, almost evening.

Behind you, in the backseat, you could hear Becker whimpering & whining. "Don't worry boy, we're almost home, just a little bit longer." You cooed to him, reaching your right hand back and allowing him to lick you. You got Becker as a graduation gift a few weeks ago. You two have bonded ever since. You were never a cat person, dog's were more of your style. "You'll be able to go potty soon." You said to him, pulling your hand back up and holding onto the wheel.

Traffic wasn't going as slow as you intended, was traffic always going to be like this though? This ain't going to be pleasant if so. Especially working for the hospital. Imagine an emergency happens and you're needed but the roads are packed, that's going to be one helluva time. But, you wanna think positively. You missed your family too. It's going to be hard without them, especially your mom. She is your number one supporter and without her in the same home as you, it'll be a large change.

You turned the radio up, hearing the country music blast throughout your car but not loud enough to scare your dog. Dogs ears are sensitive and you didn't wanna bother him further than he already was. No doggo wants to be stuck in a car all day, especially in this heat. Despite it being early September, it was still quite warm out. That's another big change from Oregon, you imagine that back home, it's either really windy or heavily raining. The change could be nice though.

The sound of Becker panting was clear as day, it only made you feel more guilty. "Hold on baby." You muttered to him before you then rolled your window down and the window directly behind you, not a lot though, you didn't want him to jump out or something. Through your rearview mirror, you could see his slobbery tounge blowing in the wind as he stuck his head out the window. "Hah, good boy!" You giggled, turning left onto the exit, finally getting off of this miserable highway.

Finally, the road wasn't full anymore. It was a downtown rural area now, cars slowly made their way through the town. Austin is busy, yes, but this side of it, not so much. The only logical reason it was super busy on the highway and earlier roads was because people are getting/going to work. Your first day at the hospital is on Monday. You were nervous but in a great way. You have been non stop thinking about it. All of the work you've put in and you're officially where you wanted to be. Life was going good... For once...

You passed by all sorts of different places. Gas stations, fast food chains, locally owned stores & stands, it felt so honey. Back in Oregon, you lived in the center of the city, it was always so lively and never calm. Austin is like that too but not as bad, and definitely not as bad as Dallas is. You were grateful you didn't end up moving there or even somewhere that was worse. Austin was a good enough fit for you.

The GPS showed you were only a minute or two away from home, your heart was racing a bit. You've never been on your own before and you least expected it to be in a completely different state. Luckily, a week from now, you'll be going back home for the weekend. It'll be comforting. You'll definitely make sure to call your family everyday, you made sure they knew that too. They'd have to simply put up with it.

You could tell you were getting closer due to the change in scenery. There weren't any establishments around these parts, just either compact or extensive suburban homes. You actually used to make fun of those perfect American families who lived in these types of areas but look at you now. Back home, you lived in a small house, only two bedrooms but you were an only child so it was never a problem. You did wish for siblings growing up but you understand now that if you had some, things would be a whole lot different.

As you turned left, the tracker built into your phone made a dinging noise, indicating you had arrived at your destination. It wasn't wrong. Just to the left, you could see your newly purchased home. It made your heart skip a beat. Not only were you nervous but you were also so happy. You glimmered as you pulled right into the driveway and set your car in park. You could tell Becker knew this was your guy's new home, his whimpers weren't ones of boredness but rather excitement. "One second." You sighed out before getting out of the car.

Stepping out of your car, you sighed softly as you breathed in the fresh air. The smell of outside was always so welcoming. You grabbed your purse out of your car too and swung it across your shoulder. It was a brown leather purse with an embroidered strap. You then opened up the backseat so Becker could jump on out. "Stay over here buddy." You chuckled out, scratching the top of his head a few times before closing both doors. You had quite a bit of stuff in your trunk & backseat but you hired a truck to drive all of your other belongings here. It wouldn't be there for another day or so.

Becker ran off to the side of the house to go potty ; You trusted him enough to not run off. He was a good dog. You went to the back of your car and popped open your trunk. It was a mess but everything you needed for the night was in there. You even bought an air mattress, your back would die trying to sleep on a wooden floor. You grabbed the first two boxes, they weren't very big, and set them on the concrete of your driveway. They just had toiletries in them.

You grabbed out another box, this one was a bit bigger than the other two. It had all of your kitchen appliances in it. You were excited to cook your very first dinner in your very own home. You already decided on making Pesto Pasta, one of your favorites. In your trunk, there was the air mattress box. It wasn't going to be the best way to sleep but it'd have to suffice for the night, your proper bed should be in either tomorrow or on Sunday.

Whilst grabbing out the air mattress, you heard the sound of a truck driving past and pulling into the driveway across from you. They must've been your neighbors. Your neighbors back home weren't the nicest. There were the Johnson's so were beyond uppity and thought they were better than everyone else, they lived beside you. Then there was Cassandra and Cody, they were your age and pretty kind except they were literal kleptos.

You ignored the truck behind you, just trying to get everything you needed for the night. You could hear Becker barking but you didn't know what it was he was doing it at. You figured a wild animal, maybe a bunny or a stray. Becker was actually from a shelter, you'd never buy an animal from PetSmart or whatever. "Becker, quit your barking!" You shouted at him, nudging him to come over to you. Maybe he wasn't good with new environments.

You placed the last cardboard box from your trunk on top of another one, shooting your eyes to look at Becker. He was looking at the truck across the street, barking at it. "Oh boy, quit it." You spoke out to him but he didn't listen. You went to grab onto his collar but right as you did, he bolted off into their driveway. He was a friendly dog, you didn't think he'd do anything bad, he was just inquisitive, but it was still bad of him to run off like that.

"Becker!" You yelled, jogging across the street to grab him. You watched as two men got out of the black truck. The one in the driver's seat had a mullet and lighter hair than the other man, he also seemed shorter. The other one though had short dark hair, although you couldn't tell if it was purely brown or black. He was well built, along with the other man. Were they brothers? That's the only assumption that came to mind.

Once you reached their driveway, you grabbed Becker and pulled him back to you. The man getting out of the passenger seat looked back at you and had a puzzled look before letting out a chuckle beneath his breath. "Listen, I'm so sorry, he's just curious." You sighed out. Becker was now listening as he sat down right by your feet. "Sorry, we'll be out of your hair." You giggled, beginning to turn around before you heard the man's voice speak up.

"You just move in across the street?" He asked you, his voice sounded southern and it was very deep. "Oh uhm, yeah, just got here tonight actually." You said kindly, looking back at him again. "Well, welcome then, and to your dog." He snickered out. "I'm Joel, this is Tommy." Joel spoke deeply, pointing over at the other man. You let the two men know your name before asking them whether or not they were brothers, and they were. You weren't surprised, they did share similar facial features.

"Where are you from?" Joel raised, his arms crossed. His arms were huge, he definitely has a nice body. "I'm from Oregon." You said softly, placing your slender hands onto your waist. "Damn, that's a long ways out. What made you move all the way here?" "Got a job offer at the hospital." You said with a titter, his accent was thick. "Oh, you a nurse or something?" He questioned, leaning up against his truck. "No, a doctor. Recently gradated from medschool." You explained, glancing over at his brother as he walked into the house. Maybe they lived together.

"Well how bout that? I'm just a contractor." "That's nice." You added, tucking strands of your thin hair behind your ear. "Yeah, yeah, well I'll let you continue settling in. If you need any help with uh larger furniture, me and my brother can stop by, we helped the Adler's when they first moved in." Joel said with a deep voice, pointing his index to the home beside his. "That would be great, thanks, luckily I don't have to deal with the bullshit of larger furniture today, it'll be in either tomorrow or Sunday."

"Alrighty, well, you have yourself a good evening. See you." Joel said with a sly smirk, slowly inching backwards. "You too, Joel." You gave him a slight smile before patting Becker to follow behind you. You made your way across the street, allowing Becker to run around in his new yard. You took a gander back and seen Joel looked back at you before entering his home. When you saw his eyes on you, you felt a deep pit in your stomach. Nothing bad, rather just glee or something. You couldn't pin it.

Around your neck was a lanyard, it had the key to your home, you assumed it was locked. At least you hoped, you don't want any squatters inside. You unlocked the white door and opened it, stepping inside of it. The sunset beamed in through the windows throughout the house. It was still dark though, every single light was switched on. The seller said you'd have to go to the basement to switch them all on. That sounded like a fun time!

One by one, you dragged each box into the home, keeping some on the floor and placing some on the island counter. You didn't plan on unpacking any of it tonight, you were restless and just wanted to lay down for the night, despite it only being 5 PM. The more sleep you get, the easier it'll be tomorrow. You definitely had to get a lot of sleep Sunday considering on Monday, you start your first day. Even though it's just training, you wanna be as awake as possible.

You ambled towards the front door again and away from the kitchen to call Becker in. He'd have to deal with the floor for the night. He is a cuddly dog, he loves big comfy areas but without a bed or a couch, there's no way. "Becker!" You said with a rowdy voice, "C'mon baby." He came running over to you and past your legs, going into the house and treading around like a mad man. "Oh good boy." You chuckled, petting him gently.

You walked back over to the kitchen and grabbed the air mattress, you needed to get it open and blown up. It was sealed to a T, your nails were definitely not enough to get it open. Striding towards the appliances box, you opened it up and searched through it, taking out a knife to slice it open. You are quite clumsy so you were praying you wouldn't stab the mattress on accident. It didn't help that Becker felt the need to push himself up against you, seeking attention & love as if he's starved from it.

"Back off boy." You snorted, pulling the mattress out of it's box. It was all wrinkled up and looked compact. Although it was the size of a Full. You straightened it out on the living room floor, you didn't feel like carrying it all the way up the stairs. It came with a machine to blow it up and you connected it to the black cylinder hole, turning it on and hearing the loud blowing noise it was making. You didn't have any pillows, they were all packed up in that truck but luckily, you had a blanket, it was the one you let Becker use in the backseat when you were driving.

"You stay here mister." You stated out to Becker before beginning to make your way out of the front door to take the blanket out from the car. As you went outside, you noticed a bright light was on in Joel's house, just in one room though. You could also see the shadow of a smaller person's body walking through said room. Did he have a girlfriend? Or did Tommy have one? Maybe it was Tommy's. You convinced yourself of that at least.

After grabbing the blanket, you walked back inside and seen Becker already making himself a spot on the bed, despite it barley being inflated. "You little shit." You grinned, tossing the fuzzy blanket on top of him. Guess you were going to have to share.

The bed was officially ready to be slept on, you haven't been this excited to sleep in a very long time. Back home, you dreaded it. You would stay up all night, doing different stuff. Whether it was studying, painting, reading, working out, etc.. You were always doing something new. With Becker, it's been better. You're an affectionate person and he is as a dog. It may be a rough night, it always is sleeping somewhere new, but with him it may be easier.

Pulling the machine away from the bed, you turned it off and climbed underneath the blanket, feeling immediate warmth. The Texas heat also played a part in that. Back in Oregon, you had a heater beside your bed to help, you definitely didn't need one here. "Alright." You whispered to yourself, Becker lying right beside your feet, his fur was cozy. You were originally going to turn the lights on to your home but honestly, you were scared to go down there all alone, a pitch black basement? No thanks.

Trying to sleep in a new area was hard. You felt homesick. You miss your old room, the house noises, the feeling of it. You lived there your entire life, now you're thousands of miles away. Becker probably felt that way too, especially with how he connected with your father, they bonded. A week from now though, you'd be able to see them. It'd be easier. Another thing you couldn't stop thinking about was that man - Joel.

He seemed so different. He was kind & understanding, and that's just simply based on the short conversation the two of you had together. He was so willing to help you out, no one else was like that. It was a sweet welcoming. He was also very handsome. All the men back home weren't like that. That glimmer in his eyes wasn't something to ignore. It was the way he gazed at you that had you wrapped around the thought of him.

That brother of his was good looking too, definitely not as much, but either way. Were they both contractors? It appeared as though they had just left work so maybe they work together. And who was that smaller person walking throughout his house earlier? Had to be a girlfriend. A daughter? No way, the two of them looked to young to even have children. There was still a chance though, teen pregnancies aren't uncommon. You presume you'll deal with a lot of them as a Doctor.

Your eyes felt more & more heavy. Becker's deep breathing made you weary too. The pitch blackness of the room was helpful ; White sound would've been helpful too. Sleeping in complete silence was torture. All you could really hear was your dog and your own breathing. You were completely spent for the day. And you were ready to hit the hay.

Divider Creds: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #reader insert #joel miller fanfiction #slow burn #eventual smut #tlou fanfiction #tumblr fyp

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footygirl114 · 2 years ago

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Capitana (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

It’s me, hi, I‘m the problem! I have been so freaking busy that I haven't had time to do anything, but today I got reminded of this prompt and it stuck with me and I had to get it out. I can definitely add more to this story, but I wanted to post something for y’all, so we can consider this a part 1. If you are a below deck lover then I hope I have done it justice!!

As you were standing on the stern of your boat waiting with your crew you were dreading the upcoming charter. You had seen the preference sheets and you knew that you were waiting on a group of 8 footballers, the last batch of footballers you had were awful and demanding so you were dreading.

You had worked your way up in the yachting industry starting as a deckhand. You have been fighting your way up the male dominated career ladder getting passed over for jobs when you were the better candidate, until 3 years ago you were able to finally take the leap and become captain on a super yacht based in the Mediterranean. You got to where you were because you weren’t afraid to do things your way and your current owner knew that and loved it.

The charters you have been the captain for have been nothing but successful. You had curated a reputation of being cold but amazing with guests, which has meant that your crew was like a well oiled machine. Normally you were excited about picking up new guests, you loved to meet a variety of people but you mostly loved the look on their face when they had the time of their life all because of a female captain.

That reaction was either in awe at a female captain or in complete disbelief that a female captain was able to provide this kind of service. The second reaction was your favourite, which is why taking a group of footballers on a 5 day trip to Ibiza did not excite you. They would not be in disbelief but it was more likely that they picked your boat because they knew you provided private excellent service.

You lived and breathed boating, it didn’t mean you weren’t into sports but being Canadian you were a hockey fan more than football. You knew of female footballers so you recognised the names coming on the boat, but you didn’t know what to expect.

When you were waiting with the crew to board you could hear your Chief stew and the chef talking about how good of players they were. You listened in and knew that you had some of the top players in the world coming on your boat, that excited you.

Before you had any time to think about it some more you could see the group walk across the gang way on to your boat. You were immediately met with a group of very good looking, fit players. You immediately jumped into your role and allowed them to introduce themselves to you and your crew. Once that was done you started the introduction.

“Good afternoon! Welcome aboard Serendipity, I am your Captain for your journey and I am excited to have you on board! This is Kate and she’s the chief stew and she will take you on a tour of the boat” you finish your introductions and allow Kate to jump in.

While she’s talking you can’t help but notice the last player that walked on the boat, she had introduced her self as Alexia. You were intrigued by her expressive eyes and quiet demeanour. You could tell within the first 5 minutes that she had a quiet leadership about her, and that the rest of the players respected her.

When they started their tour of the boat and she met your eyes you knew you were in trouble, it felt like she could see into your soul with one lock of eyes. Before you could break eye contact she shot you a wink flustering you to the point you almost stumbled over your bosun as you turned to get away. Feeling your cheeks redden you mumbled an apology and then said to the crew “Were off the dock in 15!” as you strode away to captains nest.

You got the boat off the dock, and then spent the next few hours remaining up in the bridge doing work, not hiding out. When you finally emerged it was before sunset and you had just docked the boat for the night off the coast of Ibiza. You headed toward the swim platform where your crew was getting it set up as the guests wanted to swim before they got ready for dinner.

You knew the guests were enjoying sunbathing while you were driving the boat, but didn’t think twice about coming to make sure they were okay. You forgot that they would all be in bikinis and being professional athletes they were all ripped. Normally you could ignore this with your guests as you were a professional and able to compartmentalise. Yet seeing Alexia in a bikini you short circuited, almost like you were back in high school seeing the girl who made you realise you were into girls in her bikini.

Feeling the heat on your cheeks you blushed watching her dive off the back of the boat into the water. Luckily you got pulled away and had to help one of your crew with something before you could do something stupid, like jump in after her. Once you were done with them in the locker, you emerged back on the swim platform as she was getting out of the water climbing on the ladder, with water dripping down. It was like one of those scenes from a movie.

She noticed you and smiled and stopped in front of you with a “hola Captain.” You could feel her eyes running up and down your uniform.

“hi” you muttered out feeling your cheeks burn at her appraisal and you turned grabbing her a towel handing it to her.

She took it with a smile and a “gracias” as she used it to wrap her around her self.

Once her abs were covered up you felt more confident in holding a conversation and you ask her “how was the water?”

“Perfect, I am jealous of you being on the water all the time” she says with a smile as she moves beside you so you can both look out over the water.

You smile and tell her “well I grew up in Canada and spent most of my time on frozen lakes, so this is paradise.”

She laughs and you immediately know you want to hear that sound again, she then says “I can understand why you want to work on the med then”

“Oh you can?” you ask her with a raised eyebrow.

She turns towards you and says “I can, its beautiful out here” she waves her arms around but her eyes remain locked on you and you can feel the flush on your cheeks again.

You are saved by your radio going off, and one of your crew needing you. “Sorry, I gotta go” you tell her with a smile and a shrug of your shoulder.

She smiles and says “of course captain, duty calls.”

You smile and send her a wink as you turn and head up the steps towards where you were called. As you are walking all you can think about is her smile and laugh and you know that you are going to enjoy this trip more than you thought.

Later that night, you had thought most of the guests had gone to bed as it was quiet and after midnight, you were still up reading under the moonlight. You had changed into sweatpants and a hoodie, so you take the chance to sneak to the kitchen to get a mug of tea before you go to sleep.

You make it to the kitchen and make your tea without being seen. You are heading back up the stairs towards your cabin when you hear above you on the steps “Hola.” you look up and meet the eyes of Alexia, who is in her pjs.

You step up to the step below her and pause looking up at her asking “what are you doing up?”

She smile down at you and puts her hands on your upper arms pulling you up to be on the same step as her as she says “I was coming to see you Y/N”

Smiling you ask her “yeah?” and you turn and place you tea on the table beside you.

Placing her hands on your hips she pulls you into her and whispers “yeah” before she closes the distance and presses her lips to yours. You wrap your hands around her neck and deepen the kiss. You get lost in her for a few minutes before you hear a radio a floor below you.

You break the kiss and look at her and tell her “I’ve missed you Ale, will you come stay with me and sneak out in the morning?”

She smiles and says “yes, I’ve missed you too hermosa. I hate when your on week long charters.”

You hear movement again below you and say “Come with me” you tell her and pull her by her hand to your cabin. You get there and close the door behind her and she immediately lies on her back on your bed. You smile and tell her “I really like you in my bed Ale.”

She opens her arms and you slide into them as she says “I’ve missed sleeping beside you hermosa” as she presses a kiss to your head.

You smile and settle deeper into her, as she adjusts the covers around you and reaches over to turn the light off. You smile and press a kiss to her cheek and whisper “goodnight babe”

Pressing another kiss to your head she whispers “goodnight captain.” Listening to her breathing even out you thought back to when you met.

You had met the football star 3 months ago, at a farmers market in town. You both got to talking while waiting for smoothies, one thing led to another and it was midnight and you had been on the best unexpected date of your life. It took her less than 12 hours to reach out to you and the rest is history.

With her status, and you being involved in customer service of high end clientele, you both decided to keep it quiet until you both felt comfortable coming forward. She didn’t even know until the day before the charter that it was your boat she was one. Someone else planned the trip and she was added on last minute.

You knew the next few days would be hard trying not to show everyone you were falling deeply for the football star, while also trying to keep your hands to yourself. That was a tomorrow problem and tonight you were going to enjoy falling asleep beside her after a week of being at sea without her.

#woso #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso x reader #Alexia Putellas #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #espwnt x reader #barca femeni

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t-lostinworlds · 2 years ago

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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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