#night agent imagine

[yelenasbraid]

𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 — 𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅

summary — you’re the only person peter can trust. you also happen to be an fbi agent.

warnings — fem!fbi agent!reader, fluff, a gun makes an appearance

𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃, pinned down and unable to move. he never thought he’d be hiding from the US government, but here he was. peter sutherland made a vow that he’d protect rose larkin, and that’s exactly what he was doing.

“she’s an fbi agent, peter, are we sure we can trust her?” it was the fifth time rose had asked that in the past ten minutes.

“yes, rose. we can trust her,” his hand wrung around the steering wheel as he pulled up a few blocks away from your apartment building. you went to the academy with him, a few classes ahead, but nevertheless. you’d become fast friends, unable to separate from one another.

he put the car in park, hurrying out of the car before he and rose briskly walked to your apartment complex. he hadn’t seen you since you graduated from the academy. you planned on meeting up every once and a while, but life seemed to get in the way.

the catch was, you weren’t expecting them.

they walked up to your apartment, peter knocking on your door. a few moments passed, but just as he raised his fist again to knock, the door unlocked and opened. you stood there, your face tight. you wore sweats, a large t-shirt and your hair was sloppily pulled back.

“you’re lucky i’m too tired to rat you out,” you mumbled as you stepped aside to let them in. you never asked questions, and peter appreciated that about you. if he needed help, you were there, no questions asked. this time, though, he assumed you had the answers already.

the door shut behind them and you locked it again. you ran your hands down your face, eyes catching the man in front of you. he’d always been attractive, the warm lighting of your apartment especially accentuated that attractiveness.

“thank you,” peter wrung his hands like a nervous schoolboy. in a way, he was.

“i’m assuming you’re rose larkin,” you turned to the girl next to peter, who merely nodded her head. you nodded yours and reached behind you, pulling out the glock you’d shoved in the back of your pants before you opened the door. you could never be too cautious.

“really, y/n?”

“what? i’ve been filled in on the whole assassins thing, i’m not letting some psycho into my apartment,” you defended as you placed the gun underneath the kitchen counter. you directed them upstairs and allowed them to use the guest bedroom and bathroom, which left you a moment to yourself.

~~

peter was the only one to come back down from getting changed.

“rose went to sleep, she needed it,” he explained. peter saw your gaze soften, something that he learned was words in and of themselves.

“don’t you?” you countered. you were sat on the couch, your laptop propped open on your lap. he sat down at your feet, shaking his head.

“bau, huh?” he chuckled, eyeing the sticker on your laptop.

“yeah, profiler. happens to be a lot harder than you think,” you allowed a soft smile.

“whatever happened to the talent i saw on the gun range?” he asked, mostly teasing but part of him wanted to know. you’d been a menace on the range in handguns and rifles, never missing a beat snd never hesitating. he swore you were going to do something with swat.

“who’s saying that it’s not still here?” you countered back, closing your laptop. silence grew between you, a comfortable one. whenever you were at the academy, feelings blossomed between the two of you. feelings that scared you; falling for someone in the fbi wasn’t a smart move. yet, it was the move you made. you never confessed said feelings, but seeing the golden retriever of a man in front of you changed that. it reminded you that those warm and fuzzy feelings were still there.

“peter,” you started, shifting yourself on the couch, sitting up. you placed your laptop on the coffee table, moving yourself into a criss-cross position. his eyes caught yours, and he saw the words in your eyes before you said them.

“yeah?” his eyes flicked down to your hands, watching as they wrung. he looked back up at you, his brow creasing with concern.

you were at a loss for words. normally, you were able to say what you were thinking without much of a physical reaction. it’s what made you a good profiler. now, as you sat in front of the man you fell for, you struggled to keep your composure. how could you just spill to him, now especially, that you’ve liked him ever since the academy?

“are you sure you weren’t followed?” your gaze hardened up again, ignoring the butterflies in your gut and the warmth in your chest.

“i’m sure,” peter replied, a sigh leaving his lips. he was hoping you’d confess something, and it looked like you were going to. he saw the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled and softened. he would find himself getting lost in your eyes, drowning the rest of the world out.

“good,” you nodded your head, your eyes averting down to your hands, which were in your lap. the silence that fell over you now was uncomfortable, it was filled with a tension that you couldn’t seem to shake. the confession was on the tip of your tongue, your body begging you to just say it.

“ever since the academy,” you started, catching peter’s eyes again. his heart rate picked up and that schoolboy-like giddiness came back. “i’ve…had these feelings i can’t seem to shake,” you continued. the room was perfectly still, almost as if time had stopped.

“and?”

“peter,” could you say it? could you admit to both yourself and to peter, that you’d fallen in love with him? now?

“i think i understand,” he whispered, and oh did his whisper send the right kind of shivers up your spine.

“what-” before you could even finish enunciating your phrase, soft lips captured yours. the warmth in your chest spread down to your stomach, sending sparks all over. you’d been waiting years for this moment, and you believed you’d never get it. your hand cupped the back of peter’s neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. his hands snaked up your body, finally resting on both of your cheeks, cradling your face. finally, he’d kissed the woman of his dreams. the woman he’d fallen for while he was still at the academy. the woman who could knock him to the ground in a blink of an eye.

he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. your breaths meshed together, and you gave him one last, small kiss before pulling away again. smiles adorned both of your faces, your cheeks hot to the touch.

“been waiting a long time for that,” peter’s voice was raspy, and he knew it was from the shock of it all.

“then why didn’t you do it sooner?” you teased, causing the both of you to laugh. in that moment, only for a second, peter forgot about the impending doom on the nation. peter’s only focus was you, his girl.

in honor of me finishing the night agent in two days, here’s a fic for you lovely people. i’m telling you, i love my men fbi coded

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

The Night Agent Imagine

Pairing: Peter Utherland x (f)reader

Tags: mostly fluff, slight NSFW, hurt/comfort, injury, danger

Peter was running faster than he ever had before.

Five minutes ago, his phone had lit up with your name, your nervous, frantic whisper immediately setting his pulse racing.

"Peter," you sniffled, the sound distorted over the line. "There's someone outside the safe house."

He clutched the phone tighter, his voice firm but calming as he broke into a sprint. "I'm on my way. Stay calm. Don’t hang up."

"Please hurry," you breathed, the fear in your voice driving a knife into his chest.

He forced his tone to stay steady, even as panic clawed at him. "It's going to be okay, Y/N. Take a deep breath for me."

You obeyed, the shaky sound of your inhale making his heart ache.

"Good," he said, reaching his car and yanking the door open. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he turned the ignition with a snap and peeled out of the grocery store parking lot. "Do you still have eyes on them?"

"Yes," you swallowed audibly. "They - I think they’re going door to door."

His mind raced, recalling your room number and the motel’s layout. "Listen carefully. Lock the doors to the bathrooms and closets from the inside. Just like we practiced."

"Okay." He heard the faint sound of doors clicking shut.

"Good. Now, do you remember where I hid the handgun?"

"Behind the mini-fridge," you answered quickly.

"Go take it."

A pause. "Okay… I have it."

"Remember the safety-"

"Right. Safety off."

"No—no." Peter spoke carefully. "Turn it off only if you need to use it."

"Right. Sorry."

"You’re okay. You’re doing great." His tone softened, an edge of warmth cutting through the tension. "I’m almost there, sweetheart."

You sighed, a tremor of relief washing through you. "Okay."

He pressed harder on the accelerator. "Now, the windows are big enough to fit through. There’s a small drop down to the back of the motel. You remember the route?"

You moved to the window, your breath hitching as you looked down. "Oh my God."

"Listen to me," Peter said firmly, his voice anchoring you. "You need to be brave for me, okay? I know you can do it."

"Okay, okay. I can do it," you whispered, steadying yourself.

A crash echoed from somewhere in the building, and you jumped, gasping. "Peter!"

"You have to jump. I’m almost there."

The urgency in his voice pushed you forward. Bracing yourself, you stepped out, the ground rushing up to meet you. The impact was harsher than you expected, pain shooting through your knee as it scraped against the gravel. "Ah!" Your hand shot to cover your mouth as you pressed yourself against the wall, holding your breath and scanning the shadows.

No one followed.

"I’m outside, Peter," you whispered into the phone.

"Yes!" His relief was palpable. "I told you you could do it. Now, you need to get away from there. Head west. I’m turning into the neighborhood."

Nodding, you hobbled forward, careful to keep your steps quiet despite the strain on your injured knee. Blood soaked through your jeans, and you bit back a wince.

You’d made it a safe distance from the motel when a hand grabbed you, yanking you behind a tree. A scream bubbled in your throat, but then you saw him - Peter, his index finger pressed to his lips.

Relief crashed over you, your knees threatening to buckle as you slumped into his arms.

"Are you hurt?" he whispered, his worried eyes scanning you before locking onto your bloodied knee. His jaw tightened. "Shit."

"It’s fine -" you said quickly. "It’s just a scratch."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "I’ll check it later. Let’s go."

Before you could protest, he scooped you into his arms, carrying you toward the SUV.

"You don’t have to carry me - "

"It’s swollen. You shouldn’t walk on it," Peter cut you off, his tone brooking no argument.

Gently, he lowered you into the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt with care before rushing to the driver’s side.

The car roared to life as he drove out of the woods with practiced ease, his focus unwavering. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, a testament to his frustration and concern.

"I shouldn’t have left you alone," he said, his voice tight with regret. “I’m sorry."

"It’s alright, Peter. I’m fine."

But the tension in his jaw said otherwise.

After nearly an hour of driving, he pulled onto a narrow road, parking in front of a modest apartment building.

"This is my friend’s place," he explained, turning off the engine. "She’s working abroad, but I have a key."

You nodded, ignoring the unexpected pang of jealousy that flared in your chest. A friend? Close enough to lend him a key? You immediately chastised yourself. It was ridiculous to feel this way. You’d known him for only a few days. So what if he was strong, protective, and impossibly kind? He was just doing his job.

Still, the thought lingered as you reached for the door handle.

"Stay here," he said, already stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Your pulse spiked at the sudden isolation, but before you could dwell on it, your door opened again, and Peter leaned in, scooping you into his arms.

"Peter - "

"Don’t argue," he said firmly, carrying you up the stairs.

Inside, the apartment was small but tidy, the kind of space meant for someone always on the move. It lacked personal touches - no photos or decorations - but it was clean and functional.

Peter’s first move was to sweep the place, gun drawn, checking every room before closing the curtains. When he shut the main window, you caught a glimpse of the National Mall in the distance.

"We’re in the city…" you muttered.

"Hiding in plain sight," he confirmed.

You tried to take a step but winced as pain flared through your knee, a sharp gasp escaping your lips.

Instantly, Peter was at your side, his hands cupping your face. His worried blue eyes searched yours, his thumb gently brushing your cheek.

"It’s… it’s my leg," you stammered, heat rushing to your face. "It hurts more than I thought."

"We need to disinfect it," he said, his voice low and steady as he lifted you again, carrying you into the bathroom. He set you down carefully on the edge of the tub, his touch never wavering.

"If it hurts to move it, I’ll need to cut your jeans. Is that okay?"

You nodded, biting your lip against the pain. "Do it."

From the first aid kit, he pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut, careful not to jostle you. He peeled back the fabric, revealing the swollen, bloodied mess of your knee.

"This might sting," he warned, turning on the showerhead. Warm water cascaded over the wound, and the sharp sting made you inhale sharply through gritted teeth.

"I know," he murmured, his focus unwavering. "Be patient for me, sweetheart."

His voice was soothing, grounding you as he worked. You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to breathe through the burn.

When the wound was clean, he knelt in front of you, examining your knee with meticulous care. His hands were steady, his touch firm yet gentle as he tested your mobility.

"It’s not broken," he finally declared, relief in his voice. "But you’ll need a few stitches and plenty of ice."

"Stitches?" you echoed, dread lacing your tone.

His eyes met yours, steady and reassuring. "Just a few."

"Please tell me there’s morphine in that kit," you half-joked, half-pleaded.

For the first time, Peter’s lips quirked into a small smile, a rare crack in his stoic demeanor. "It’s a gateway drug, you know?"

You groaned. "Thats fine. I’d still prefer to stop feeling what I’m feeling right now."

The morphine worked quickly, leaving you dazed and floating by the time he tied the final stitch. He wrapped your knee in gauze with practiced precision, helping you stand.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his blue eyes scanning your face.

"Better," you murmured, though the painkillers made you feel pleasantly drowsy.

"I’ll get you something to change into," he said, disappearing briefly before returning with a pair of shorts and a T-shirt - both his.

The sight of his clothes in his hands made your brow lift. He cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze.

"I figured you might be tired of wearing strangers’ clothes," he muttered.

You smiled softly. "I am. Thanks."

You didn’t hesitate to strip off your borrowed flannel, leaving it in a heap on the floor. His T-shirt was warm and soft, and you all but drowned in its oversized fabric. The gym shorts hung low on your hips, and you had to tie them tight to keep them up. They smelled faintly of him - clean, woodsy, and safe.

Exhaustion hit hard as you limped to the living room, collapsing onto the couch. The cushions were soft and inviting, and within moments, you drifted into a dreamless sleep.

When you woke, the room was dark, illuminated only by the warm glow of the kitchen light. The air smelled delicious - sweet and comforting.

Peter stood at the stove, his hair was wet, falling in messy wrinkles across his forehead, his sleeves rolled up, a spatula in hand.

"I’m no chef," he said, glancing at you with a small smile. "But I figured you can’t go wrong with French toast." he shrugged, bringing you a plate.

You moved, noticing the icepack on your knee. He must had placed it while you were sleeping.

Peter brought over a plate of golden-brown French toast, the faint smell of cinnamon and sugar filling the air. He set it on the coffee table in front of you, but his eyes lingered as you shifted to sit up. The warmth of the gesture made something stir in your chest - and you reverted to your favorite defense mechanism - humor.

"You didn’t have to cook for me," you said in an exaggerated tone.

He chuckled, shaking his head, biting his tongue. "Just shut up and eat your toast." His tone quiet as usual. His eyes flicked briefly to your bandaged knee, but the weight of his gaze on you lingered.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward, though - it felt charged, heavy with unsaid words. You couldn’t help but notice the way the dim kitchen light played across his features, sharpening the curve of his jaw, highlighting the flecks of gold in his blue eyes.

"You’re staring," he murmured, a flicker of amusement tugging at his lips.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you dropped your gaze. "No im not."

"Whatever you say," he said, leaning back against the couch.

There was something in the way he said it - soft but deliberate. You glanced up at him again, and this time, he was the one staring. His eyes held yours, steady and unflinching, and you swore the space between you felt smaller than it had moments ago.

"Peter…" you started, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I was just messing with you," he said, cutting you off gently. "Trying to lighten the mood."

"You dont have to." The words slipped out before you could stop them. "I mean, I feel safe with you."

His expression softened. "Good. You should."

The air between you grew heavy. You couldn’t look away. Cursing yourself. It was just like you to develop a crush on a guy you had just met.

Your breath hitched as he reached up, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

Fuck it, You thought. If you'd learned anything in the past couple of days is that you don't live forever.

"Peter…" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"Yeah?"

You hesitated for only a moment before leaning toward him, your hand brushing against his arm. His breath hitched, his eyes widening slightly as you closed the distance between you.

"Uhmm," your voice trembled. "Can I...?"

God, yes. He swallowed hard, comflict evident in his eyes.

If you only knew how he wanted to kiss you. He got a total of four hours of sleep in the last week working for people he didn't even know he could trust. Hell, for all he knew, you were the only person he could trust. And even then-

You closed the gap, pressing your lips to his. "I can hear you overthinking."

For a moment, he didn’t move, as though the weight of his internal battle had frozen him in place. But then his hand found your waist, hesitant at first, before pulling you closer onto his lap, careful around your injury.

It wasn’t the desperate, frantic kiss you’d imagined in your head. It was slow, careful, like he was afraid to break you. Yet there was an intensity beneath it, a heat that built with every second as his resolve crumbled.

When he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing was unsteady.

"This…" he started, his voice rough. "This isn’t what I should be doing."

You murrmered, planted soft kisses along his jaw, down his throat, he gasped in your ear. "You can tell me to stop, and I will."

You felt him shake his head. There was your answer.

[loolilyumm]

The night we met

[theosphobia]

rlly bad doodle based off dog bed caboose hc...

[sandraleclerc]

The One You Love

Pairing: Peter sutherland x female!y/n

Warnings: angst, fluff, kissing, jeaolusy

Summary: Since Peter is protecting Rose he´s never at home and the few times you saw him was with her. When someday the two of them show on yours and Peters apartment, you can´t blame yourself for feeling that he doesn´t want you anymore.

You and Peter have been dating for three years now, although because of his working hours you didn´t see him too much, both of you managed to make this relationship work, because you couldn´t hide the feelings you had for each other. Since the first time you met you knew you wouldn´t just be friends, he was just made for you.

You loved this man more than you could say, he was the love of your life, you couldn´t imagine a life without Peter and you thought that neither could him.

There has been a lot of days since you saw him, you knew he was in a type of mission for the white house, he was protecting some girl called Rose, her uncle and aunt died because they were involved in someting very serious of the government and they were after her now. You were aware of that, and that they were trying to get to the bottom of the case and all of that.

You understand it, you really did, but you just couldn´t stop thinking that you wanted things to be like before, you just wanted to be with your boyfriend talking, cuddling, whatever, you wanted him with you. But it was his job, he had to do it, even he was risking his life for this, but he wanted to help with all of this, he loved his country, his job and he would do wathever to serve it.

You were now on your sofa watching some random movie that you choose from netflix, you weren´t paying a lot of attention to it, you were only thinking of Peter, where could he been now?, was he okey?. You thought that of course he was with Rose keeping each other company in some place, you couldn´t hesitate and feel a little bit jealous.

"It doesn´t matter" you said to yourself, but oh it really mattered to you, a lot.

You were almost asleep when you heard the sound of some keys opening the front door. That could only be one person.

Peter.

You got up from the sofa a little exhausted to go to the front door, "he was finally here" you thought. Maybe the two of you could have some time together finally, that made you smile.

You saw Peter and thats when the two of you did eye contact, your smile couldn´t be bigger, you couldn´t stand and walk straight to him.

"Y/n" he said with a relieved tone.

You jumped into his arms and hugged him as tightly as you could, you´ve missed him so much. His arms hugged you around your waist, while you hide your head in his neck.

"I missed you so much" you said while you separated from his embrace. You grabbed his chin to take a look of his face.

"What happened to your face?" his face had a lot of scratches and it didn´t look quite good.

"Someone was chasing us and I had to fight" he said.

"Oh Peter" you sounded worried, and you were, it could have been worse.

Wait, did he say, us?

"Us?" Thats when you notice that all the time Rose was standing behind him, thats why you didn´t saw her, and well, all your attention was caught by Peter.

"Oh" you said while you separated from Peter, you were disappointed and a little upset.

You weren´t upset because he brought her in yours and Peters place, you were upset because after a long time without seeing each other you could have had finally some time together alone.

You looked at her, god she was beautiful.

"Y/n, this is Rose" Peter didn´t stop looking at you, you didn´t know why.

"Hi, i didn´t want to ruin the moment for you two, so i just stayex quiet, that´s why i didn´t introduced myself sorry” she said while gesturing with her hands.

"Don´t worry, it doesn´t matter, im Y/N" you faked a smile for her, you were a little upset, but you didn´t want to be rude at her.

"Im going to show Rose the guest room" Peter said looking at you.

You nod at him.

You watched them disappear and went to the same spot in the sofa that you were. You were exhausted, you really thought that Peter and you were going to have calm finally, but you were wrong. At least, he could have tell you that the two of them were coming here, but he didn´t.

You were a very insecure person and the fact that he didn´t tell you made you think of the worst, it wasn´t just that, they passed all the days together, you can´t blame yourself for overthinking about this.

"Y/n?"

You looked at him, he was so handsome, the most beautiful man you had ever seen, you loved how the suit that he was wearing suited him perfectly, he looked perfect.

He took a spot next to you in the sofa.

"It was last minute, I didn't know what to do and I didn't want to put ourselves in danger, so i thought that we could come here" You knew he was looking at you, but your eyes were on the front. You didn´t want to look at him, because maybe if you did you would fall into his arms in no time.

"Y/n look at me" you couldn´t.

He grabbed you by the chin to make you look at him "Y/n talk to me". You finally look at him, he was staring at you deeply.

"Why didn´t you just tell me?" you said, you were now a little sad, why couldn´t he just let you know, you didnt heard of him for so long.

"I don't always have the same phone so no one can chase us, and I didn't want to risk that if I called you, maybe they would go for you too" he said staring at you. "I love you Y/n, i don´t want to lose you"

You stand up, escaping from his touch. "Maybe your lying to me, she is nice and beautiful, i wouldn´t blame you if you said that you don´t don´t love me anymore" you were now about to cry. You walked to the windows that were next to the sofa, you didn´t want to look at him, if you did you would cry.

"Who?" he said standing up and walking towards you from behind.

"You know who" you said looking outside.

"No i don´t" he said. You could feel his presence behind you.

You turned around, you were know so close that your faces were a few centimeters from each other. "You know that you spent all the time now with Rose, shes pretty and im sure that she is a wonderful person too, we don´t even see each other now, i don´t blame you"

"Y/n listen to me" he grabbed your face "You are the only woman that i love and that i will love my entire life, your the love of my life, and i hate that you compare yourself to others. I will never change you if it´s what you think, im so deeply in love with you that i can´t explain it. Im sorry for not being with you like before, i hate it too, the only thing i want is to be with you, but i have this mission now and i have to do this. But i promise you that when this ends i won´t leave you"

You were now crying, how could you doubt of him.

He wiped your tears with his fingers. "Don´t cry"

"Im sorry Peter, you know i love you" you said staring at him.

"Im the one who is sorry Y/n, i hurt you and i hate it"

You were staring at each other, you could be like this forever, staring at him, you loved that he was taller than you, you could have a look of him better. He was perfect, and only yours.

And then he kissed you, he kissed you softly, his hands were roaming over your waist and yours were tangled on his soft hair. You both got lost in that lustful feeling and messy hungry kisses quickly, the kisses became more intense and his touch, comforting.

He slowly guide you to the sofa, he was on top of you all over you, he kissed your neck while your hands desperately felt his toned abs, He quickly took off his jacket while staring at you. "You are perfect for me, love" he said, you couldn´t hesitate and blush a litttle, no matter how many times he said this things of you, you always felt like this.

He then kissed you again more intense, he has missed you so much, his hands roaming over you. "Peter" you moaned into his ear bringing shivers up his spine.

His hands went up to take off your shirt. "Peter" you said breaking the kiss.

"What?" he said going to kiss your neck not giving so much importance.

"Peter" you put your hands over his to stop him of taking your shirt off. "We can´t" you said.

"Why?" he said staring at me like a baby.

"Rose will hear us and i don´t think she will like it"

"So stay quiet" he said smiling sarcastically at me.

You gave him a little slap in the chest. "You´re an idiot" you said smiling at him.

"C´mon Y/N" he said beggin at me like a kid.

"No, maybe another time" you said jokingly.

You moved your position, so now your head was on his chest, his hands in your waist and your legs tangled.

"You are insufferable" he said smirking.

"You love me"

"I do"

This is my first time writing something, i hope you like it! There wasn´t a lot of content for Peter so i take advantage of thiis.

I will open requests so you can request whatever you want.

[underoospeterparker]

peter helping his princess with her skincare and taking off her makeup before bed bc shes really tired 🥺

this can be read as either peter parker (mcu) or peter sutherland (night agent)

after the longest day, you had fallen asleep in his car when he was driving you both home. he smiled, hand landing on your thigh to rub reassuring circles on your leg.

you still didn’t stir, completely passed out. peter, being the best boyfriend, let you sleep for the rest of the ride home.

once you reached, he climbed out of the car and then made his way over to your door, gently lifting you into his arms.

you blinked, then slightly shifted to press your face into his shirt. chuckling, your boyfriend kissed your forehead lightly, closing the car door with his foot.

he unlocked the house door, then once you made it inside he locked it again. he was obsessed with your safety above everything else.

bringing you into your shared room, he laid you down on the bed before detaching himself from you.

whimpering, you opened your eyes slowly, adjusting to the bright light of the bedroom. you tugged on his shirt, wanting him to cuddle with you.

his face softened, and he whispered a soft, “be right back, sweetheart.”

he quickly made his way into the bathroom, taking out your makeup remover from the cupboard and some of your creams that you put on every night before sleeping.

returning to you, he murmured, “can you sit up f’me?”

his words made you groan lightly and you forced yourself to sit up, head resting against the headboard.

he pressed some of your remover onto a cotton pad and then cupped your face in one of his large hands.

your face was questioning as he lifted the other to your face, dabbing at your makeup. “what’re you doing, baby?” you asked. “i can do that,” you added, trying to grab the cotton from his hands.

he gently pushed you away. “let me do it for you, okay? you’re so tired, princess. jus’ sit there and relax.”

you gave him a sleepy smile before closing your eyes so he could finish removing your makeup.

once he was done with your creams, he lifted you into his arms again to take you to the bathroom. he delicately set you down next to the sink, and your head lolled back against the cupboard.

"c'mon, sweetheart," he said, pressing a bit of toothpaste onto your brush before handing it over to you.

you nodded, then proceeded to brush your teeth at the same time as peter, his arm wrapped around your waist to support your weight and make sure you didn't fall.

when you were both done, you would have almost fell when you hopped off the sink, had it not been for your boyfriend steadying you, laughing at your clumsiness.

"so sleepy tonight, huh?" he teased, pressing you into his side as he walked the two of you back to the bed.

"mmm," you murmured, slipping back under the covers. peter got in next to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you sighed in happiness.

your boyfriend splayed a protective arm on your stomach, taking ahold of your hand to rub circles on your thumb. he gave you a kiss, then whispered, "now rest your pretty little head, baby."

"love you, pete. thanks for taking care of me," you said, words muffled by his shirt.

"always will, sweetheart," he murmured. "love you too."

[infinity-mars]

Play With Me

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x f!reader 

Word Count: 8.5k+

Rating: Explicit Smut (18+ only) 

Summary: You go out for a night of fun and encounter an alluring cowboy that does everything he can to capture your attention.

Also posted on my AO3 !

You loved to dance. Those moments when your heart fluttered in your chest made you move like you could fly, relishing in the feeling of power it gave you. You weren’t particularly graceful or always on time, but there was a certain magnetic thrum in the air that bent you to its will all the same. 

From outdoor dance clubs to private velvet-roped lounges, discothèques, raves and rooftop bars, you’ve tried to see it all with your friend Kate by your side. 

The cool air nipped at you both as you finally walked inside the club, the heat of passing bodies a welcome feeling. The lit room had a hushed glow as people made their home for the night in plush seats off against the far walls. 

You imagined that the venue was similar to what Alice saw when she went down the rabbit hole and found herself in Wonderland. The bar certainly had the right name, you thought, the people walking around just as colorful as the children’s story. 

The bartender was quick and you were thankful, even though the drink he made was weaker than you preferred. Vodka burned as it hit the back of your throat, aided by the scoff that found you at the man chatting up your friend. 

Kate always had a thing for slightly pathetic men, like she could eat them alive. You were used to her routine by now, her colorful storytelling one of your favorite things to listen to over your morning coffee.

Honestly, you were both horrible together: you pitied the unsuspecting bystanders that listened in. Laughing at an old story she loved to tell at your expense, you didn’t see him at first. 

You wish you could go back to the moment he came crashing into your orbit, not noticing the person on your left until he made himself known. 

“Now what is a pretty bee like you lookin’ so bored all the way over here?” a gravelly voice spoke, the man’s lips tantalizingly close to the shell of your ear. 

Your eyes looked over before your brain could catch up, and what you saw certainly sidetracked whatever thoughts had possessed you before. Wearing a black leather jacket that swam in the neon light of the bar, he almost seemed to glow in a classic white shirt that tapered on his slim waist.

“I’m enjoying myself just fine thank you,” you retorted, taking a generous swig of your watered down drink to hide the rush of nervous energy that possessed you. You were used to beginning the chase, and it caught you off guard to be taken by surprise. 

How refreshing.

 A small grin flickered across his face at your answer. His dark hair and broad shoulders only made him more mysterious, the lolling drawl of his voice making you curious despite yourself. 

Men would approach you with the fashionable audacity they all liked to carry around with careless hands hoping for a quick fuck. Sometimes you’d indulge yourself, but the enjoyable heat of another person wasn’t worth it if they never shut their mouths. 

Your vibrator and weighted blanket made sure of that.

You were undecided if this man fit into that category though.

“That’s not what I see.”

“Hmm, what do you see then, if you know me so well?”

The man shifted his foot and leaned in closer, the subtle spice of his cologne clinging to his suede collar. The way he wore it was effortless, and you wanted to grab onto his jacket to either bring him closer or shove him back, depending on what he said next.

“I see a woman that’s bored out of her mind trying to convince herself she’s not, drinking alcohol not worth the proof on the bottle,” he explained, voice dipping lower as you turned to fully face him, finally meeting eyes that never strayed from you.”You want more than whatever junior over there could ever offer someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“Oh honey, I know I walked into that one with both feet. You’re just fishing for compliments now, aren’t ya?”

“Mmm, are you going to tell me what I wanna hear or are you going to buy me a drink?”

“The shit they mix here ain’t what you deserve, I saw that bartender mixing those drinks. Take a sip of this darlin’, and tell me I’m not wrong,” the man tempted, readily extending a sleek silver flask to you that was attached to his belt buckle. How scandalous .

The promise in his expression emboldened you. He had taken a drink from the flask himself before offering it to you in invitation.

“What’s life without a little risk?” His eyes seemed to ask.

You took the chance, the warmth from his hands lingering on your fingers as you took the flask from him.The delicate gold choker on your neck glinted in the light as you swallowed.

Taking a swig, you absorb the flavor. He knew his alcohol, and from the confidence of his statement nothing less than top shelf mattered. You could certainly respect that, wondering if his lips would have the same taste if he kissed you.

“You’re not wrong, it’s very good. I’ve always been partial to whiskey myself.”

“Just good? What you have in your hand is a rare share of Statesman Whiskey, made straight from the source in Kentucky,” he retorted, almost offended if not for the mischievous twinkle in his eye. Something you had said passed a test you weren’t yet aware of.“Even as a Yankee you must understand the quality of that. I knew you would.”

“You caught that, did you?” 

“I don’t miss a thing, and you have most certainly caught my undivided attention.” 

You shifted completely to turn your back on your friend and her man of the hour, uninterested in the conversation that no longer included you. 

This man was right about one thing: you had been bored, and hopefully he would measure up for the evening. He didn’t shrink at your gaze.

It was nice to be approached for once with an interest that could mirror your own. 

“I don’t know how you fit that ego of yours inside this place. This doesn’t exactly look like your scene if I’m being honest.”

He chuckles at that without taking offense and coyly tips the brim of his hat in your direction, smiling with a flash of tongue at your choked laugh that's just for him. 

“Let’s just say I’ve gotten a lot of practice over the years. Even more talking to gorgeous girls like you. A buddy of mine wanted me to check out this new place to meet up sometime for work .”

The queer way he said that wasn’t lost on you, but you figured it was just an inside joke of some kind. 

“You know that a honey bee can sting when it's threatened right?” 

The way he widened his stance in victory as you focused on him was intentional, the insufferable action the kind of cockiness you usually wanted to smother with your own if not for the way it oddly suited him. 

“Oh, that doesn’t deter me one bit. I’m sure your sting is just as sweet. I happen to like that.”

The grin peeking out from beneath his mustache looks genuine. You’re intrigued, looking at him now in consideration. As you checked him out from head to toe, one thing stood out rather prominently. 

“Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me right now?” 

New York might be a concealed carry state but he looked like one of the only men on the premises actually packing heat in all of the ways that matter. The well fitted dark blue denim hugging his thighs left very little to the imagination. 

He was tailored to torture you inch-by-fucking-inch.

“Why don’t you come dance with me for the next song and find out?”

Oh you definitely wanted to shut him up. Preferably with something else to keep that mouth of his busy. 

“No.”

“No? Give me one reason why not and I’ll leave you alone. You can take someone else home tonight and leave ol’ Jack behind.”

“So that’s your name then? Jack,” you reply. His eyes droop at the sound, half lidded and unhurried in the way he examines the way you say his name. 

You finally introduce yourself, like you hadn’t been bantering with the man for a while now. 

Like you hadn’t been imagining what he would look like after spending a night with you, scratch marks down his back a parting gift that'll make him think of you every time he moves.

“If you are so obliged, it’ll be the name you’ll be screaming later and that’s a promise,” he vowed, chewing on a mint he popped in with a cheeky wink thrown in your direction. On any other man that would be a turn-off, but you looked down and saw the way his hands clenched around nothing as you observed him. 

Jack was his own harbinger of surprises it seems. 

The second of silence that follows sears under your skin, charged and frantic for more friction. A quick reply caught on your tongue that you held in, keeping it for later: never let it be said that you didn't like flirting with delayed gratification every once in a while.

“How do you know that I don’t have someone already waiting in my bed for me?” You asked. Jack’s eyes were arresting, lingering lower on your chest for a few moments before looking into your own to answer you.

 He gave a satisfied hum when he found whatever he was searching for.

“I think the way you’re staring at me is all the answer I need.”

You’ll give him credit, he was saying all of the right things. Or at this point, you wanted them to be, your attraction only tipping in his favor.

“Now what is a Southern boy like you doing here? Not to be a cliche, but you’re a long way from home.”

“Oh, I’m just like anyone else. I work at the Statesman New York office, traveling a lot when I’m needed elsewhere. What do you do when you’re not talking to vagrants like me in strange bars?”

“I’m a romance novelist, dabbling in a lot of things really, you know how it is.”

“Hmm, now that sounds interesting. What words must form on that clever tongue of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you flirted back. 

He began speaking again, the story he launched into exotic and altogether hard to believe, but it wasn’t the words that reeled you in. It was his large hands waving temptingly close that distracted you. You could care less about the time he almost died in Marrakesh after offending someone’s wife.

You’d commit the story to your memory later when the pleasant haze of him faded away.

His tale came to a close as you glanced down and laughed at the stereotype that for some reason didn’t surprise you.

“Can you even dance in those boots for anything other than a two step?”

“I can do a lot more than that.”

“With your shiny belt buckle and Stetson I’d almost think you’re compensating for something,” you teased. A flash of delight lit up his face at your observation, the smirk he sent your way something just north of sinful.

“Everything is bigger in the south darlin' and besides,” he trailed off, hands coming to slowly cage you in against the bar but not quite touching you. “Let’s be honest here, we both know you like what I’ve got underneath.”

You lean forward, a breath of air suspended between you as your mouth almost ghosts over his. Maneuvering out of Jack’s reach, you reach up and take the hat off his head.

You had no doubt he would have stopped you if he had actually wanted to, those large hands of his able to easily overpower and hold you down. 

You suppress a grin at the thought.

Putting the large hat on your head, you brushed out your unruly hair to make it stay firmly in place. His eyes unfocused for a moment before looking at you with renewed intensity, his jaw ticking to the side as he takes you all in. 

You loved the chase, but at that moment you were tempted to end the flirtation and leave the bar to see if those fingers would fill you up as well as they promised. 

“Come on, show me your moves," you dared, steeling yourself as you joined the growing crowd beginning to take over the dance floor. He convinced you. "Do your worst, Jack.”

A remix of one of your favorite songs set the pace as it moved through you. The bass was rich and dark in your veins as you danced, Wonderland falling away in the fury of bodies all around you. The charge that flitted low in your abdomen was one that threatened to crack you in two as Jack brought you back, your ass grinding into him after each beat.

It would be so easy to turn around and let yourself melt into the heat of him.

 But riling him up sounded like a lot more fun. So when the beat shifted so did you, one hand removing the hat from your head as the other reached behind you to bring him down to your level. 

“You know, there’s a saying I heard before that if you steal a cowboy’s hat you’re either fuckin’ or fighting, and darlin’ I don’t have any weapons on me right now. So what’ll it be?” He asked, his voice against your ear making you lean into his palms. 

You felt like smoke, weaving around him as you continued to dance.

“Mmmm, doesn’t a combination of both sound just as good?”

The reactive tightening of his fingers on your hips was just what you needed. The both of you were lost, the music loud enough to cover up how hard your heart was beating.

Jack runs his nose along your neck and jaw until he nips at the vein, the heat of his breath making your own decision for you.

Turning, you reach up and finally kiss him. It wasn’t a quick affair, the push and pull between you both a fight to see who would give in first. You wanted to memorize the feeling, imagining the burn of his facial hair on your thighs as you rode his face. 

You’d even wear his hat while you did it if he asked nicely. 

He tasted like mint and mussed hair dangled in front of his eyes, lightly brushing your forehead as you mingled together. 

You were both insulated in the crowd, kissing each other until you were hardly even dancing anymore. 

Ready to leave the liquor and low lighting behind, you stopped Jack in his tracks. Backing him into the wall of the hallway you ventured into, you did so firmly, hands holding him hostage as you clung to the lapels of his leather jacket. 

The hunger he saw reflected in your eyes pinned him in place, and that alone made him want to ruin you. 

Leaning up in your high heeled boots so that you could kiss his cheek, the remaining lipstick you wore smeared onto his skin like a brand, the red lip print left near his opened mouth telling him that you were dangerous.

Better yet, his favorite kind.

“Follow me cowboy,” you rasped, leaving goosebumps in your wake as you lightly skimmed over his skin with your teeth. The fever consuming from now was one he hadn’t felt bubbling in his blood ever since his last mission months ago.

 He craved it.

Jack vaguely connected that you were an unstoppable force to his immovable object, ready to crash into him like the paradox you were presenting yourself to be. 

When he had clocked you from across the bar earlier he had admitted to himself that you weren’t the usual type of woman he jumped to charm into his bed. You had looked wholly unimpressed with your surroundings before, swirling the ice in your drink as the yuppie next to you preened like a toddler with a captive audience. 

The oncoming storm he’d read in the lines of your body told him another story, however, one that swept him into you and past the redhead that had been trying to catch his attention since he’d walked in. 

The shadow of something wicked had made Jack eager to align your passions with his own.

Impatient at his composure as he thought of this, you hooked two fingers into his belt loops and tugged him off the wall and into you, that jolt he felt from before electrifying below his skin as you pressed against him. 

Reaching down and lightly cupping one of your hands over the denim of his jeans, you felt him squirm the longer you dared. 

 His dark brows furrowed at your forwardness, wanting to taste you again.

Your hands were firm on him, brokering no argument for the sly agent to persuade you with. He admired your drive, easily taking the momentum from him and twisting it to your desires. You kept surprising him, and by the way you delved into his mouth you weren’t afraid of showing him this side of you.

You wanted him to say something, anything, so this time you squeezed with intent, the hiss in your ear headier than the alcohol on his breath.

His cock twitched under your hand, and god it was power . 

You enjoyed him like this: slightly wild but contained, a groan threatening to break through clenched teeth as you felt him up in public so casually. 

You kiss him possessively in that dark room, drinking him up and daring him to consume you in turn like he promised. He might have approached you first, but you were going to finish what you both started.

It was desperate and messy and loud but neither of you cared.

A couple walked close to the both of you, forcing you to break from him in the narrow hallway to let them pass. Your absence made Jack swiftly reconnect himself with your body, his large hand sliding down into the pocket of your jeans to roughly squeeze your ass that had been grinding on him only moments before. 

Leaving his hand where it was, he used it to direct you outside into the street. The nighttime air filled your lungs with relief, cooling the sweat that dampened your neck.

“You're positive you don’t wanna go back to my place? I can assure you the view from my floor is nothing to scoff at.”

“While that might ordinarily be tempting, Jack, your apartment doesn’t have any of the toys that I like to use,” you retorted. 

You could already imagine flashes of the night ahead of you at your apartment. 

“A pity then, I just know that you pressed against my floor to ceiling windows when the sun rises would be a pretty sight indeed.”

“Let’s enjoy tonight and plan on that for next time.”

Shame was not an emotion that Jack entertained often and he wasn’t about to start now, leaving your lipstick where it sat proudly on his face. A few people stared at him in the street, but no one stopped your brisk pace. 

At the last crosswalk he pinched your ass in retaliation when you turned to kiss him harshly, nipping his chin as you leaned back onto your heels. As if you were dry kindling struck by lightning, his hands trailed flames in their wake, each touch only hastening your steps forward.  

Exposed brick, industrial lighting, and high ceilings were what attracted you to your building when you first moved to the area. Your small loft on the upper floor gave you the privacy you craved, the cityscape around you comforting in the way it always kept moving. 

While waiting for the elevator Jack untangled himself from you to lean against the wall on your right. He stood there appreciating you as a few of your neighbors walked around the lobby, Jack tipping his hat to them as they passed.

You didn’t even realize you’d dropped it at some point to kiss him earlier.

“Prettier than a peach,” he murmured, his hand reaching to smooth over his mustache in thought. He was earnest, the mood shifting into something unnamed as the elevator dinged. You huddled into him as people came and went.

"You know," you began, "I'd look even prettier with your hands wrapped around my throat."

 He coughed into his hand, not wanting everyone else in the lobby to see how tight his jeans suddenly felt. You laughed.

You both stumble into your apartment, the size of Jack overwhelming as he backs you into the closed door. His mouth was persuasive, like a switch was flipped now that you were both away from everyone else. 

He left bruising kisses on your neck, completely unyielding in his quest to mark you wherever he could reach. His hands were on the back of your head, holding you in place as he gripped your neck just so. 

For a long suspended moment you were frozen, wanting to regain the ground you refused to lose. But hell, could this man kiss the thoughts from your head. 

Then, all at once, heat spreads through you, thawing you into action. 

Holding onto his jacket with your fingers you tilt your head back with a breathless chuckle, making Jack look into your eyes. You take up one hand and grip his chin, the other drifting to caress the lipstick mark you shamelessly left on his cheek. Pressing down on it with more pressure to show you meant your next words, you wanted him to listen. 

He smirked into your touch, a cocky sort of grin showcasing his dimple that felt entirely warranted as your breath stuttered in your chest. 

“Go sit on the couch,” you ordered. Kissing you once more before moving away, a filthy moan left you as his tongue darted out for a taste. His eyes didn’t look away until you turned your back, shedding clothes in your wake until all you had left on was the lace you were wearing.

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure thing baby, pour me a bit of whatever you’re having.”

You didn’t leave him for long, reappearing with strong liquor and the type of lingerie that made you feel like you could eat a man’s heart in the marketplace like Beatrice once said.

The warmth from the drink you’d sipped in the kitchen enveloped you as it licked up your chest— you were in your element now.

Grounded in your body, you took a deep breath. 

Emerald lace and satin embrace you, assured in the sway of your hips as you walked over to your cowboy. Handing him his drink and swiftly straddling his parted thighs, you let him take you in.

 You don’t know when he became “your cowboy,” but it sounded right, for the night at least.

Say what you will, but Jack was flexible with a change in plan. He just had to bide his time, finishing the finger of bourbon left in his glass before setting it aside.

The way you spilled out of your lingerie had him drowning in you. Champ once told him that he was an adrenaline addict, chasing every mission that got his heart racing. He wasn’t wrong—you couldn’t function as a successful Statesman agent without a dash of daredevil in you.

And he just loved the way you moved.

His mouth descends on you again, leaving you once to gulp in a desperate breath before attacking with renewed vigor. 

He hoarsely spoke your name, and it was the best thing that had left his lips all night. You wanted him to say it again but this time underneath you, unbidden and desperate at the way you pulled it out of him. You slid your tongue into his mouth and brought up a hand to roughly yank at the hair on the sides of his head, until he bowed his back and leaned into you for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You asked, snaking your hand underneath the cup of your brassiere to shove it aside and caress your breast, a groan breaking through your composure at the way Jack bucked into you. Though his breathing was measured and even, his lips parted at the sight of your nipples pebbling in the cool air. 

“You know, when I saw you at the bar I knew I had to talk to you, take you with me when I left,” he murmured, quiet in his admission as it rang true on his face. 

“Mmmm, honey, I don’t know if you’ve noticed but...you’re in my apartment at the moment, on my couch no less, drinking my bourbon,” you answer just as quietly into his ear. You graze over it teasingly with your teeth just to see him shiver. “And I’m wearing a matching set right now. So who really took initiative tonight, hm?”

Jack laughed almost in disbelief at your words, his body responding for him. It’s an honest sound, one that makes you kiss him deep enough to taste his tongue in the back of your throat.

Ultimately what you saw in his eyes was patience. And that was hotter than anything else he could have done. 

 You sigh his name, letting your head fall forward as he seeks out another kiss from you. 

“This is just the preview. I want it all, and I know you do too,” he breathed against your lips. “Now are you going to let me touch you, or do I have to watch you fuck yourself on my thigh before I can taste you? You can only tempt a man so far.”

“Is that a threat or a challenge I hear?”

“I did promise that you’d be screaming my name, and I take that job very seriously. You'll hear no arguments from me.”

“You sure you can handle me like that, cowboy?”

Jack was wavering somewhere between wholly aroused and perversely indignant. No one questioned him like this, in the bedroom or otherwise if he could help it.

 He hated how it turned him on like this. 

You’re not sure what emboldens you to tease him; your resolve only heightens the longer he looks at you, as if you could spill over into him and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“I have never been more sure than I am right now.”

He knew how to fire you up. In many ways, you were both quite similar.

Restless and insatiable. 

Purposefully running your hands down his chest only to stop your exploration at his belt, the rumble in his chest was one of approval as you scratched at his abdomen through his shirt. 

You enjoyed yourself when pleasure could mix with a bit of pain, and you had an inkling that Jack did too. You wanted to deny him, reduce this enigma of a man into a begging mess before the sun came up. But your own need to be touched by him won out, and damn him for kissing you like that—as if you were the antidote to a fatal poison he had drunk in an effort to forget you. 

“You can touch me, Jack, but there’s something I want to do first.”

You meet his gaze for a brief moment as you pause in this position on top of him, being perfectly still when all you wanted was to hold him close until there was no space for questions or distractions.

An understanding passes between you both. Your body buzzes with nerves, synapses firing as all thoughts focus on the man holding you.

He grabs at your hips, whispering encouragement in your ear as he guides you to settle flush against his lap with your legs on either side of him. The zipper of his jeans and his belt buckle rubbed into your clit hard enough to make you shiver.

“ Fuck… ”  

Jack  scrapes his teeth over your jaw. Barely there. More of a breath across your cheek than anything. 

You reach back and unlatch your bra, throwing it away as he cups each breast in his calloused hands. Arching into his attentive mouth as it reached your skin, you threaded your fingers in his hair, messing up the hat flattened strands and tugging on them harder when he bit down teasingly. 

Letting your nipple go with a wet plop, he leaned back into your hands on his head.

“God, I am so fucking hard thinking about licking into that pretty pussy of yours, bet you taste real good,” Jack groaned. You answered in kind, kissing him again to swallow his words.

This was just the warm-up.

“I’m going to cum just like this against you, but if you move any more then I won’t be quite so kind later. Wanna make you earn it. I’m a generous lover, Jack, but a fair one,” you simpered, grinding almost cruelly against the hardness of him that you could feel throbbing through his pants. “You want me to be nice, don’t you?”

“Oh darlin’, I’m sure you’re sweeter than a saint,” he grunted, words stuttering as you brought his head up closer to yours, lips touching but not quite. Rotating your hips, you sigh into his mouth as you move against him. 

True to his restraint so far, he kept himself in place, his breath hot against your cheeks as your pace quickened. 

“Mmmm, can’t wait to have you inside me,” you sighed, his muscles straining beneath your fingers. Shuddering at the feeling of him under you, your first orgasm was creeping closer as it began trickling down from the tips of your fingertips. “D-don’t want you to cum until I’m done with you.”

Jack’s mouth opened partly in awe as you grinded on him with even more force. 

He had a hidden strength to him, and by the way his arms flexed around you he could have easily moved you under him at any time. The fact that he didn't demand it was arousing.

Fuck you were wet.

Tilting his head slightly, he enjoys the view of you on his lap using him for your own pleasure. Your tits bounce as you move, and he’s torn between telling you how perfect they are and moving just slightly to bury his face in your softness. He whimpered silently as you pulsed around him, able to feel it over his clothes as you threatened to unravel.

“Oh, look at you,” he exclaimed, voice a low rumble that stokes the fire in your belly. “Just like that, baby. Fuck, come on. Take what you need from me.”

He says your name once, fervent and taut, barely able to keep himself in check. The fact that he was still almost fully clothed made him need more . You were all warm skin and curves and he wanted to feel every second of you wrapped around him.

He tensed his thigh and shifted slightly but you didn’t notice as you rode out the waves of pleasure rolling over your clit.

It was exquisite and hurried and not the end goal but you didn’t mind. You had wanted to see if he would listen to you. If he could take what direction you gave him. It was an entirely different high you’d surprisingly discovered in your twenties, having a man in your control, making him beg with just your body. 

And yet, Jack did not beg for himself. The look in his eyes was expressive enough. Still he didn’t move, and that was what finally pushed you over. 

Gasping in shock, your orgasm softly washed over your skin. He eagerly watched, memorizing the way your mouth hung open at the feeling of him grabbing your hips with bruising force to drag you over him once again.

When you finally opened your eyes Jack was already looking at you, and you did not shy away. His hair was tousled from your hands, lips swollen, eyes bright—you savored him like the Kentucky whiskey on his breath. 

“Mmmm, you were so good for me,” you praised, voice heavy in your mouth as you recalled how to speak.

As you came back down he chased your lips, taking his time to touch you the way he could now that you’d fallen into his chest. His mouth was a wanting, wretched thing, tracing a path from your lips to your chest. 

You pulled back for a moment. “Do you want to switch to the–”

“I’m not done yet,” he interrupted, bringing you back into a heated kiss that had you whining into his hold on you. He slips his tongue in your mouth and seems to slow time licking into you just so, making you shiver. 

His hands were frenzied in the way they glided over all the flesh he could reach. 

You would torture him no longer.

His blunt nails traced over your spine, and you wanted to ask him to do that again. 

“Now you are a rare gift, my dear,” he hummed into your mouth. “I would hate for you to be tired already.”

“Oh, you don’t have to question my stamina,” you slyly answered. Even now you are still hazy in your bones, tethering yourself to his firm grip on your ass. “Worry about your own.”

The chuckle that leaves him is telling, and you clearly feel his frustration rolling off him now that you can think in complete sentences.

You kiss the corner of his mouth and swiftly hop off of his lap, trembling for a moment as you right yourself. There’s a slight damp spot from where you were sitting on his white shirt that had been hanging over half untucked from his jeans, but you’re too drunk on endorphins to feel embarrassed. 

You did that .

Your heart stuttered for a moment at the raw ache you saw in his face. Hooking your fingers in the slim waistband of your panties, you then cast them aside. 

It felt like an afterthought after what you had both just done, but the way Jack looked at you was anything but unappreciative. 

What you inspire in him is so erotically charged that he is momentarily struck dumb by what you do next.

Falling onto your knees you look up at him through your lashes, taking the flask attached to his belt buckle, the surface slightly wet from your release making it slick in your hands. It was silent in the apartment, the only sound Jack’s breathing as he watched you drink from the flask that he favored so much. 

You could taste yourself around the metal and lipstick and whiskey. A theme of the night it seemed.

Awareness flows down your spine at Jack’s gaze. As you take one more pull, his hands reach up to card through your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail, reaching for you with a finality that has you arching into him.  

You lead him into your room, wishing you had cleaned up a bit before tripping on the rug, laughing as you both stumble into your metal bed frame. 

“Now Jack,” you begin, bracing yourself for the next conversation you rarely walked into without some gut feeling bracing you up. “Do you have a safe word?”

He didn’t answer immediately, but when he did he was entirely focused on you. 

“I do, pretty girl. It’s sweet tea.”

The way his mouth caressed each syllable with that slow southern drawl shouldn’t have been as damning as it was.

“How do you feel about ropes?”

The way he lit up was thrilling. He looked away with unfocused eyes, enjoying a private joke that only he knew. It was the expression of a man that delighted in his own mystery. 

You couldn’t deny that a part of you was burning to know what he locked away. He prowled with that hidden energy, and knowing what you’d experienced of him so far, you would have to work for a proper taste.

“I happen to be quite gifted with whips and a lasso if I do say so myself. I’m rather versatile in that regard. Rest assured it is not my first rodeo.” 

“In that case cowboy, I want you...to tie me up,” you said before grazing your thumb across his bottom lip. He nodded slightly surprised, with the way you had directed him earlier he had thought you’d wanted to tie him up instead.

 It wasn’t like he couldn’t escape from some ropes if he really needed to.

He had been amazing under you before, but you wanted more. You wanted him to take your body and make your need dissolve on your tongue as you cry. You wanted it to hurt.

Jack felt like you could read his mind, look into the very heart of him and learn all of his desires. Palming himself over his jeans, he imagined the warmth of your mouth and had to stop from outpacing himself.

You walked into your closet with purpose, toeing on your favorite pair of stiletto heels as you grabbed your selection of ropes from where they’re hidden.

His eyebrow ticks up at the sight of you naked with only your Louboutins on, the black ropes in your hands are just as daring. He waits for you to settle onto the pillows of your bed before methodically tying your hands to hooks in the wall on either side of your headboard.

 It took him a few moments but his knots were sound, loose enough but tight on your wrists so you couldn’t break free. You were grudgingly impressed with how fast Jack could work when he was motivated, filing it away where you could exploit later.

He throbs at the salacious painting you rendered, spread out and glowing in the warm lighting of the room. With your opened legs you were vulnerable and slick and soft. 

Jack didn’t want to wait any longer before losing himself in you.

He shifted down to lay himself between your parted legs. You swiftly stopped him with your left leg extended fully out, the stiletto of your heel digging into his lowered shoulder as he kneeled on the bed. The startled look on his face made you tease him, grinding it in a little further before moving it down his chest to stop at the length of his cock straining for freedom. 

Pressing down.

The choked groan that he involuntarily let out was painfully erotic. You wish you could record it and hit rewind.

“Hold your horses, Jack. You have far too many clothes on. Strip for me first before you get what you want.”

To his credit he didn’t jump up and frantically discard the remainder of his clothing. Like you before his expression turned calculating, methodically shifting off the bed and taking off his shirt and discarding his pants along with his underwear. All are then folded on your nightstand, neat and pricise to minimize wrinkles.  

You swallow at the way he ignores your anticipation, but it brings no relief. 

His skin is tan like the rest of him, belly soft and strong before a small trail of dark hair leads down to the base of his cock sitting heavy against his stomach. 

You imagine tracing your tongue over every inch of him seeing where he’d fracture and break in your hold, only to put him back together again when he asked.

He was incredibly distracting like that when he wanted to be.

Captivated, your eyes stop back at his chest, small faded scars criss-crossing his skin, one worryingly close to his heart that had you straining for a closer look. His muscles ripple as he moves, the veins of his arms as formidable as the rest of him. 

Jack was focused as he finally settled low on the bed, fingers ghosting over skin as he hitched your legs over his shoulders. Kissing and nipping at the inside of your thigh, he took in a deep breath and let out a little hum, puffs of air hitting your pussy as he adjusted.

He leaned his head on your left thigh and looked up at you briefly.

“You remember the safe word, sweetheart?” He asked. You nodded, almost drunk at the heat of him crowding you. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes Jack, I remember it’s sweet tea. Now are you going to eat my pussy like you mean it or do I need to get myself off again?” You answered, tapping your leg down on his back knowing fully well how it would rile him up.

He grins at you savagely, leaning down the remaining space to lick a long stripe all the way up your folds. 

You buck into his mouth, your already sensitive clit coming alive again. He moves his arms to cage your hips in his hold, bringing you flush to his tongue by grabbing onto your ass. 

He was nestled between your legs, mapping your body with licks and handprints. Your half-formed praises and keening whine made Jack a mess of a man, grinding into the mattress as he drank up everything you could give him.

He loved your voice and the way it scattered into nothing when he sucked your clit into his mouth. He made no pretense at staying quiet, noisy and whole in his destruction of you.

Coming up for air, his mustache glistened, cheeks red from his own harsh breathing against your cunt. His lips were wet and you wanted to taste yourself when he kissed you. He reaches down for a moment and pumps himself harshly, tightly fisted and the sound he lets out...you feel it like a pulse.

His nose brushes you as he dives back in. If he could sink underneath your skin you would burst. 

He slides two fingers inside, your muscles clenching around him as far as he could go. Curling his fingers upward and holding them there, a hot fusion of unnamed pleasure and painful awareness zips through you. You can't help but squirm underneath him.

There it was.

Jack wanted you to call his name until he no longer connected it with himself, an uncontained force that compelled him to do whatever you wanted if only you'd say his name like that again. 

Wanting. 

“Fuck, when you say my name like that I just burn all over,” he murmured. “You gonna cum now, baby?”

You hum distractedly, the coiled tether in your abdomen snapping when he doubles down just right. He eagerly laps at you as your pussy flutters, climbing higher and higher until plunging you into nameless bliss. Each limb feels liquid as you touch down.

Jack keeps sucking and licking you without stopping and you can’t cover your mouth to muffle the whimpers that slip through. He adds a third finger and continues to move through each aftershock that bounces through your body.

“Come on. Lord—when you sound like that I don’t want you to stop. You’re not done yet, I know you can give me another one. Look at the way you take me in.”

You wanted to dodge his mouth as he sucked on you again, even the gentle way he prodded at you felt like too much. You weren’t going to beg yet, even for a man like Jack. Despite your discomfort you felt yourself stir again, weaker but no less corporeal, as he pressed down hard on your clit with a pressure that made your breathing pick up.

With effort you rocked into him once more and strained to lock your legs around his head, squeezing when he nipped at you. A handful of minutes later you were boneless and spent, legs trembling as he drew your pleasure out.

 He moaned at the feeling of being utterly surrounded, desperately sending you over again so that he could breathe. 

You couldn't think past the wall of sensation you were being held against without mercy.

This orgasm was harder than the last, a juggernaut that only built on the first. A few silent tears trailed down your face, so overcome that his facial hair burned similar to the hand shaped bruise already forming on your hip. 

You close your eyes so tightly that sunbursts bloom behind your eyes as you breathe through it.

Standing up to catch his breath, he used some of the slick on his fingers to slowly cover his shaft, aching from being hard for so long already. From the sheer size and weight of him that you can see, you’re glad for the bottle of lube on your bedside table, though you’re so wet it probably didn’t matter.

Jack settles himself over you, tugging you up into a fierce, messy kiss, teeth and tongues and harsh breaths traveling from his mouth into yours. 

You were so relaxed that the stretch of him affected you only for a moment as he buried himself inside you. The gasp when he moves catches in your throat, a ghost of all the pleasure he had given you just moments before leaving your body.  

 His voice stutters as he slowly thrusts inside of you, setting a steady pace. “Should keep you right here just like this, make you cum until you forget your own name. Would you like that? Take care of you like no one else will?”

You swear, picturing his words as they traced themselves down your body. As heavy as the feeling of Jack resting his weight on you was, you thrived on it. Your arms felt strained from being tied, but he curled around you just so, keeping you both connected for as long as possible.

Jack’s arms flexed as he adjusted to reach for you, extending his fingers until they pressed into your parted lips.

Swirling your tongue around his two fingers, you could taste yourself on his skin. He then leaned down and used them to press into your clit. It had you closing your eyes, too overwhelmed to speak through it. 

You didn't have any smart comebacks in you now.

His unrelenting tempo jostled the bed against the wall. Moving back to lean on his heels, Jack pistoning into you at this new angle was overwhelming but you simply didn’t care. He yelled out in a voice you almost didn't recognize, hoarse and wet as it ripped from his chest.

“Come on Jack, cum in me,” you panted. “ Fuck , I know you’re close. Can feel you aching for it. You’ve been so patient. So good . ”

You intentionally clench around him like a vice, and it has him tumbling into his own release moments later with a startled shout.

Satisfaction seizes his veins in a chokehold.

He collapses into your chest, the both of you covered in a slight sheen of sweat that was beginning to dry in the cool air.

Whimpering slightly as he pulled out, he worked through his own lethargy to take care of you.

He leaned up and undid the knots holding you hostage. Immediately your arms flop onto the mattress, the burn of your muscles just adding to the mental catalog of sensations you take stock of. With Jack resting on your chest you card your fingers through his hair, the both of you too out of breath to say anything for a few moments. 

The weight of him on top of you kept you grounded.

Warm. Languid. Eyes drifting closed at how heavy you feel. 

“You are gonna be the death of me, woman.” 

“Mhmmm, if that’s the case then I’ll wait to tell you my proposal then. Wouldn’t wanna kill you before another round, Whiskey.”

He lifts his head from your chest at that.

“What did you just call me?” He asked, eyes unreadable as they scan your face. You didn’t care, the words light in your mouth as they leave you.

“Whiskey. You taste like it. And if you think this is the only time I take you to bed, then let me inform you: I still need to drink my fill of you.”

He scratched at his mustache for a moment in thought before he smiles, the most genuine of the night that makes his eyes crinkle with laughter. There it was again, that secret in his expression that has you eager to ask what he’s hiding.

“You’re a very perceptive person, honey. I am thoroughly surprised by you. Tell me what you have in mind when I come back.”

He jumps out of bed to walk into your en suite bathroom, his ass distracting as you watch him fumble around before returning with a warm washcloth to clean you up.  Each brush of his hands on your body is gentle, reverent even as it glides over you. He kisses where your hands had been bound, asking if he was too rough.

You almost laughed. 

You liked it that way. 

Something inside you wanted to stay in the moment, gazing at each other in the dimly lit room. Not forever, just a little longer. You imagine him walking away from you out the door, and it puts an unpleasant feeling in your gut, like you wouldn’t see him again.

You had the sneaking suspicion that if Jack didn’t want to be found he’d disappear.

“So I was thinking,” you began, finally tossing your stilettos off the bed to lay under your quilt. “I have an ungodly expensive espresso machine that makes a decent latte and fresh beans in the kitchen. How about we take a quick nap and then fire it up before round two? I heard once that drinking coffee makes the sex even better.”

“Don’t you mean rounds three and four?” He teased, that ego of his purring at the thought of how much you spasmed and shook around him.

If you weren’t so relaxed you would have probably grabbed onto his balls in response, made him swear around that crooked smile of his.

You'd learn how he liked it and edge him until he melted out of his damn cowboy boots. The thrill of him was delicious, and you hadn't gotten to take a true bite out of him yet.  

“You think you can go another round later and finally ride this prize stallion?” 

That makes you slap at his shoulder. His laugh diffused whatever seriousness lingered and you readily agreed, the both of you winding down as exhaustion hits.

 As his arms settle around you, you imagine the potential of a future with this man of mystery.

 He had barely scratched the surface of what made you wild, and you wanted to change that. Leaving Wonderland with him tonight was an event you were eager to repeat. 

[lovelytsunoda]

misc. masterlist

instagram au masterlist

f1

violent delights have violent ends (mick schumacher, daniel ricciardo, pierre gasly, nico hulkenberg) 🌹

mick, danny and pierre knew they would need to fight for seats in 2023. they just didn't know that otmar szafnauer was going to take it literally.

the motorsports fiction recommendation list (part two)

the cedric diggory f1 driver au that nobody asked for but i wrote anyways

f1 drivers as characters from the magic mike franchise

tokyo drift

the day you kissed a writer in the dark ,, han lue 🌹🍑🌩

she's stood by his side for years. his loyal mechanic, the brains behind his brawn. but she'd be lying if she said that it didn't hurt to watch him flirt with those other women in his club, when he came home to her every night in secret.

see also: proud mary ( han lue ) from tina!: the series

the night agent

take one down ,, francisco jenkins 🌩

the fix-it fic we all deserve, and the ending that cisco should have had.

top gun (1986)

tell me something girl (are you happy in this modern world) ,, tom kazansky 🌹🌩

after thirty years of marriage, heather kazansky reflects on the time she spent and the love she shared with tom as she prepares to write her eulogy and say goodbye to her husband.

take my breath away ,, tom kazansky 🌹

temporarily stationed in nevada, tom and heather decide to take a weekend in las vegas to see their favourite new wave band. all the while, all tom can think about when to ask heather to be his wife.

top gun (2022)

sunday in heaven ,, jake seresin 🌹

jake’s favourite afternoons were spent with his fiancée and his dog, with hot drinks and a good book. nice and calm, different from his every day. but tell anybody that and he’d have to kill you.

uptown girl ,, mickey garcia🌹

she would do anything for her nerd boy. except maybe meet his friends in a crowded bar with a pool table where she can make a fool of herself in front of all of her boyfriend's friends. it's a good thing that mickey is a good teacher.

the sixth sense ,, jake seresin (cosy collection 2024)🌹

after a car accident totals her car and leaves her with the ability to see ghosts, an anxious police desk sergeant learns to live with the ghosts haunting her home, and the crush she has on the hot pilot who lives next door

beautiful girl (stay with me) ,, jake seresin (kinktober 2024)🌹🍑

the three lit jack-o-lanterns in their bay window shouldn't have been the lightscape to their sweetest, purest intimate moments, but hey, what happens on halloween stays on halloween.

love, actually ,, robert floyd (the christmas collection 2024)🌹

recently appointed admiral robert floyd feels overwhelmed in his new position, and unprepared to fill the shoes of the late admiral thomas kazansky. when he inherts the job, he also inherits tom's old secretary. cue the romance. inspired by hugh grant's storyline in love, actually

birthday girl ,, mickey garcia (smutmas 2024) 🍑

used to feeling like an afterthought on her birthday (mostly due to its proximity with christmas), mickey sets out to make sure that his sweet lover girl feels treasured and loved

marvel

you've got me under your spell ,, eddie brock (the cozy collection 2024) 🌹

the then's and now's of halloween in the brock household.

[ivyflowers13]

Want some?

[princenasim]

“My Secret Agent Husband” but make it Winteriron (or SteveTony) 🙂‍↕️

[lamiue]

Hear me out. Secret Service Peter Sutherland and Metro Tim Bradford.

[zahra-hydris]

so I fully went into the final solas talk in trespasser intending daewen to rage.

she's been a perfect picture of rage throughout trespasser: at the council, at the qunari, at her hand, at everything.

but then the sad response to solas' line "what is the old dalish saying? 'may the dread wolf take you'?" just called to me and... it just felt right.

she was absolutely furious going in. she intended to rage at him. to scream at him for lying to her, for manipulating her, for leaving her.

but then she sees him. and he speaks to her with such sorrow in his voice. he calls her 'vhenan'. still. and her hand flares and the pain and the joy at seeing him strip the rage away and she's just so tired that she can't bring it back.

and what's left underneath that rage is sorrow.

she's been searching for him and trying to let him go for two years. he's completely up-ended her belief system. but at the same time, he was her stability. everything she went through completely disrupted her sense of self, and he made her feel stable. and then he was gone! and he still is gone. she knows that, even upon finding him again.

so he says that line, and all she can muster up is a sad, slightly bitter 'and so he did.'

[lemotomato]

The Night Agent (1.02) (Ok, but hear me out: when they're finally done with the aftermath of that crazy week, Peter does find out how vindictive Rose can be. She spends her free time using her hacking skills to wreck hell on the Rome Tome guy and his followers. She anonymously tips off the authorities about the ones with illegal content on their computers and outstanding warrants. Then she posts all their personal info and passwords in unsavory places on the internet. They end up too busy sorting out their own shit to keep up with the conspiracy bullshit and harassment.

Peter doesn't even bother to pretend to disapprove; he's amazed by Rose and loves her all the more for it. )

[imaginationlover101]

Coming Soon!!!

[underoospeterparker]

peter distracting his princess while shes trying to study for an exam. needy peter basically

i think this is for peter sutherland but i thought it would fit peter parker too so you can read it for either <3

"baby," peter whined softly, turning your chair to face him. "you've been studying for ages. can we cuddle?"

you giggled, cupping his face in your hands. "are you four?" you asked, half joking and half serious.

he pouted. he literally pouted and you burst out laughing; a loud, wheezing one that made your boyfriend's face brighten.

"just a little longer. please?" you gave him your best puppy dog eyes and he finally relented.

"fine," he said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. "come outside in 20 minutes."

an hour later, your boyfriend slammed open the door again. you pretended like you didn't notice peter glaring at you from across the room, and you stayed silent until he gave up.

he closed your laptop lid with so much force you thought it would break. "have you seen the time?" he asked you angrily.

you lifted your eyes from your closed laptop to his face, eyes slightly watering. at this, his entire demeanour shifted, face softening and eyebrows creasing, a look of worry prominent on his face. "what's wrong?" he asked, panicked. "did i do something? sweetheart, i-"

your face betrayed you, lips curling into a smile at his concern even though nothing had happened. your giggles turned to screams as peter picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder.

"peter!" you shrieked, still laughing. "what are you doing?"

"kidnapping you," he grinned. "you've been studying for so long, i think you've gone a bit mental."

[set-phasers-to-whump]

breathe

prompt: "let me see"

whumpee: peter sutherland

fandom: the night agent

hi here's the part 2 to this fic from day 18. i hope you like it, i had a really good time writing both of these :)

Peter steps off the plane at Dulles in the early evening. He feels slightly better than he had on the first flight, having now gotten a good deal of sleep, and having bought some extra-strength painkillers and a ridiculously overpriced meal at JFK. At the very least, he’s not so exhausted and the pain is more manageable and he no longer feels nauseous with hunger. 

He gets a cab home, not caring about the price. Halfway there he realizes that he doesn’t have his key - it’d been in his bag, which is now gone. The cab driver mercifully has a paperclip that he gives to Peter, though he looks at him a little skeptically in the rearview mirror. 

Peter knows he doesn’t exactly look like an upstanding citizen at the moment. The bruises on his face have become more pronounced over the last several hours, and he’s still dirty and sweaty and generally gross. He makes sure to tip the driver well when they at last reach his apartment building. 

He picks the lock on his door with little trouble and heads immediately to his bedroom. 

He hadn’t bothered to buy and change into new clothes at JFK, though he certainly could have. But he hadn’t been able to stand the thought of changing without showering, and in any case he hadn’t really had the strength. 

He isn’t entirely sure if he has the strength to change and shower now, but he’s damn well going to anyway. The thought of a nice hot shower, of clean and comfortable clothes, is nearly enough to make him weep. 

He gathers clothes at random - an old t-shirt, his favorite sweats, the hoodie he’d stolen from Cisco all those years ago. Then he steps into the bathroom and turns the shower on, almost as hot as it will go. 

He strips down while the bathroom slowly steams up. First to go are his boots. His fingers shake when he unties the laces, and he has to sit on the floor to get enough leverage to tug them off.

His socks follow suit, full of sand that scatters across the floor. He’ll deal with that later. He’s relieved to see that his feet aren’t blistered - he really hadn’t walked that far - but his left ankle is swollen and tender to the touch in a way that suggests a sprain at the very least. 

He wriggles out of his pants and boxers without standing back up. His knees are both bruised and so are his shins. One of them sports a large break in the skin, blood matted into the hair around it. 

He unzips his jacket and pulls off his shirt. The cuffs of both are bloody from his wrists, despite his earlier efforts to clean them. His entire torso is like one massive bruise. He’ll have a few broken ribs, for sure. 

He can’t see the bruise around his neck, but he knows it’s there. He cannot stop feeling it, a phantom arm still wrapped around his throat. Stop thinking about it, he tells himself. You’re safe now. 

He only half believes it.

He forces himself up off of the floor with a groan of pain and then steps into the shower. The hot water stings his skin and the pressure of it makes the bruises across his body hurt like he’s being beaten all over again. He grabs the soap and shampoo and then sinks to the floor, too tired to remain on his feet. 

He covers himself in a thick layer of soap. It stings his open wounds, but he grits his teeth against the pain and keeps going. He cannot risk infection. He cannot be anything less than clean.

After this, he scrubs shampoo into his hair. The water runs faintly pink when he washes it out, and he wonders where the blood had come from. 

At long last, he’s certain that every inch of his body has been scrubbed clean. He no longer feels sand prickling at his skin and he is no longer stained with blood. He sits beneath the water and breathes in the steam until it starts to run cold. 

Out of the shower, Peter dries himself off as gently as possible. He’s also quick about it, not wanting to stand on his ankle any longer than he has to, and so when he gets dressed he’s still a bit damp and the clothes stick to his skin. 

He doesn’t mind. The feeling of the familiar fabric is comforting regardless, and it reminds him of where he is. At home, far away from the people who had hurt him. 

He rubs neosporin into the raw skin of his wrists and the cuts on his face, then swallows a couple more painkillers. Finally, he brushes his teeth until he’s spitting blood into the sink. 

He leaves the bathroom something of a wreck and heads for the kitchen. He’s hungry again. There are a few packages of ramen in the pantry, for times when he doesn’t feel like cooking. He’s extremely grateful for them in this moment, and within five minutes he’s sitting in front of a steaming bowl and breathing in the very familiar scent. It’s one he associates with his days at Quantico, and he is hit with the realization that he needs to contact his bosses. 

He hadn’t been given any instructions for communication before he’d left, so they won’t necessarily know anything has gone wrong. He needs to tell them. He doesn’t want to. 

He can put it off for a little while. It’s not like he currently has a phone, anyway. 

He finishes eating, has a large glass of water - he thinks he is always going to be just a bit thirsty, now - and then just sits there. 

His body aches and he knows he should probably get checked out by a doctor. But the thought of some stranger poking and prodding at him, after everything, is incredibly unpleasant. It can wait until tomorrow, at least. 

It is dark outside, nearing eight o’clock, and Peter does not want to be alone. He wants to see Rose.

She lives across the city from him, in a cute little house that she’d moved into only a couple months ago. He wants nothing more than to go there, to simply be in her presence. 

He’d normally call and ask whether she’s free. But he can’t. He’ll just have to hope she’s there, that she won’t mind him coming by unannounced. 

He puts on a pair of boots - thankfully not the ones he’d been wearing before, which are full of sand - and a jacket with a high collar. Lacking his phone and keys, he feels distinctly like he is forgetting something as he steps into the hallway, but he knows he isn’t. He leaves the door unlocked behind him and tries not to think about it.

He takes the bus and then the metro across town. He feels anxious, memories of the bombing overlaying themselves atop memories of the past twenty-four hours. He focuses on looking out of the window and trying to control his breathing. 

He arrives at Rose’s house a little after 8:45. He experiences a moment of doubt before he rings the bell - what if she doesn’t want to see him, what if she isn’t home - but she opens the door with a smile on her face. 

“Back so soon?” she asks. He’s supposed to have been away all week. 

Seeing her, hearing her voice - he hasn’t cried, not since it happened. He’d been too exhausted, too focused on making it to the next step. But she is his final destination. 

He starts to cry and he can’t stop. Rose pulls him inside and wraps her arms around him and it hurts but he doesn’t pull away. 

His ankle is throbbing. He sinks to the floor and she goes with him. Her fingers are in his hair and he clings to her shirt like a lifeline. 

At some point, after a long while, he does stop crying. His eyes are dry and itchy and his throat feels raw. He leans heavily against Rose and breathes raggedly. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. The word feels like sandpaper. 

“Shh,” Rose replies. “Come with me.”

She gets up and he follows her to the couch. 

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.”

Peter takes off his shoes but leaves his jacket on. He does not want her to see the mark on his neck. It is enough to feel it, all the time. 

Rose comes back with a container of ice cream and two spoons, and Peter feels himself nearly smile. She sits cross-legged beside him, pries open the carton, and passes him a spoon. 

The cold dairy feels wonderful on his throat, and Rose’s steady presence makes him feel safe and comfortable. He relaxes quite a bit. 

And then his jacket sleeve rides up as he’s trying to dig out a chunk of chocolate, and Rose freezes, grabbing his wrist. 

“What happened?”

He gently pulls away. “It’s nothing.”

She abandons the ice cream, turning her body to face him. “Peter, that doesn’t look like nothing.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Rose nods. “Okay. Let me see, at least? You don’t have to say anything. I just…”

He knows. 

He can hardly refuse. He’d want the same thing, in her place. To know that she’s alright. To see how bad it really is. 

He carefully removes his jacket and pushes up his sleeves. He looks down at the floor as Rose touches his arms with cold fingers. 

“Look up for a second?”

He complies. Looking down, he knows, had hidden the worst of the bruise on his neck, but hadn’t hidden it all. He swallows hard as her fingers ghost over the bruise, trying to pretend that they don’t make him think of what had happened. 

“Is there more?” 

He could lie. Except that he can’t, really. Not when it’s her. 

He nods. He doesn’t know why it feels like admitting something shameful. 

“Can I see?”

In response, he lifts up the hem of his shirt to reveal the bruising on his torso. He hears Rose suck in a breath. 

“What happened?” she asks, lightly touching his chest. There are tears in her eyes and part of Peter wants to tell her, to reveal every single detail that he remembers. But another, larger part of him cannot face it. It’s too much and too soon, and he feels like one raw, exposed nerve. He can’t. Not yet. 

He shakes his head. “I’ll tell you later. Promise.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Have you been to the hospital?”

“I’ll go tomorrow.”

“Peter -”

He meets her eyes, really meets them, for the first time. “Please. I swear, I’ll go tomorrow. But right now - I can’t.”

Rose nods, although it’s clear she doesn’t love this plan. “Will you stay here tonight? So I can keep an eye on you?”

He hadn’t been sure of how to ask this very question without seeming like a child afraid of a monster lurking in the dark. He nods. 

Rose smiles, sad and happy at once. “Are you tired?”

He shrugs. “A little.”

“Come on, then.”

They go to her room. The bed is large and warm and smells like her and it kind of makes him want to cry all over again, for reasons he doesn’t really understand. 

“Just a minute,” Rose says. She disappears to lock up, to get ready for bed, and Peter buries himself beneath the blankets. 

She returns to the bedroom a few minutes later, switching off the light. The complete darkness makes him feel panicked for a moment, but then the bed dips and her hands find his. 

He feels her move around a bit, and then one of her hands is on his cheek. Her nose bumps into his, which hurts a bit, and then she kisses him, light and a little clumsy and perfect. 

Peter rests his head against her shoulder and lets his eyes fall closed. He falls asleep quickly and completely, breathing deep and even for the first time in quite a while.

thanks for reading!!! hope you liked it <3