#the night agent x reader

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Hellloooo first time requested with yourself. I hope you're having a good week so far. I'm just bored at work and scrolling through tumblr when I came across your Peter Sunderland tiktok. Ahhh, I'm in love. I don't even have a specific request, just something fluffy, tooth rottingly sweet, I'm in my feels right now

Anyways I'm glad to have discovered you, and I look forward to getting acquainted ��

Hello welcome I hope you enjoyed your stay! Hopefully this will cure your feels! Peter Sutherland is the standard for boyfriends I said what I said also everyone should check out the night agent on Netflix.

Home is in your arms|| Peter Sutherland x gender neutral!Reader

Summary — Peter comes home from a mission and you take care of him.

Word count — 1161

Warnings — tooth rotting fluff non sexual nudity

The soft click of the door opening echoes through the quiet apartment, and Peter Sutherland steps inside, dragging his duffel bag behind him. The air smells faintly of lavender, a calming contrast to the tang of sweat,blood and dirt that’s clung to him for the past week.

His body moves on autopilot—locking the door, setting his bag down, shrugging off his jacket. The weight of the mission hangs heavy on his shoulders, pressing down like lead. Days spent chasing leads, navigating threats, and never truly resting have left his nerves frayed and his heart yearning for one thing: you.

Before he can call out, your voice reaches him from the kitchen, soft and sweet like a balm to his battered spirit. “Peter? Is that you?”

You appear in the doorway, dressed in one of his oversized sweaters, your expression shifting from curiosity to relief the moment your eyes meet his.

“You’re home,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m home,” Peter replies, his voice low and rough, but there’s something tender in the way his lips curve into a faint smile.

You close the distance between you in an instant, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He sags against you, his face finding its way to the crook of your neck. For a moment, there’s nothing but the steady rhythm of your breathing and the way your hands move soothingly over his back.

“You didn’t call,” you murmur, your fingers brushing through the damp strands of his hair. “I was worried.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he says, his words muffled against your shoulder. There’s a quiet apology in his tone, as though he knows it wasn’t the right choice but couldn’t bring himself to add to your worry.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your hands cradling his face. His skin feels cool under your palms, his stubble rough against your fingertips. “Peter, you could call me at three in the morning, and I’d still want to hear your voice. You know that, right?”

He nods, leaning into your touch, his eyes glassy with exhaustion. “I know. I just—”

“You just need to sit down,” you interrupt gently, cutting off his protest before it can begin. “Come on.”

You guide him to the couch, tugging his hand as he follows obediently. Once he’s seated, you grab the softest blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over his lap before kneeling in front of him.

His boots are caked with dirt, a reminder of how far he’s run and fought. You begin unlacing them, your movements careful and deliberate. Peter watches you, his heart swelling with something unnameable as you tend to him with such quiet care.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says softly, though he makes no move to stop you.

“Of course I do,” you counter, sliding one boot off and then the other. “Taking care of you is my job, remember?”

“You didn’t sign up for this kind of job,” Peter murmurs, his voice tinged with guilt.

You pause, looking up at him with a warm smile. “Peter, I signed up for you. That includes everything that comes with it.”

His hand reaches out instinctively, brushing a strand of hair from your face. The look in his eyes is so tender it nearly takes your breath away.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers.

“Too bad,” you reply with a grin, standing to your feet. “You’re stuck with me.”

He chuckles softly, the sound low and hoarse but genuine. It’s a sound you haven’t heard in far too long, and it makes your chest ache with gratitude.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, brushing a kiss to his forehead before disappearing into the kitchen.

When you return, you’re carrying a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of his favorite cookies. Peter raises an eyebrow, but the faintest smile tugs at his lips.

“When did you make these?” he asks as you set the tray down on the coffee table.

“Last night,” you admit, settling beside him. “I had a feeling you’d be home soon.”

He picks up a cookie, taking a bite and humming softly in approval. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Stop sweet-talking me and drink your tea,” you tease, handing him the mug.

After the tea is gone and the cookies are picked over, Peter shifts beside you, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I should shower,” he murmurs.

You glance at him, taking in the dark circles under his eyes, the tension still lingering in his shoulders. He looks exhausted, yes, but he also looks like he needs someone to pull him back from the edge of his own thoughts.

“Come on,” you say, standing and holding out your hand.

He hesitates, looking up at you. “I can—”

“I know you can,” you interrupt, your voice soft but firm. “But let me help, Peter.”

This time, he takes your hand. You lead him to the bathroom, flipping on the light. The warm glow bounces off the tiles, and you start the shower, letting the water heat up as steam begins to fill the small space.

“Sit,” you tell him, nodding toward the closed toilet lid. He complies, watching you as you grab a towel and set it within reach.

You kneel in front of him again, reaching for the hem of his shirt. Your fingers brush his stomach as you lift the fabric, and he shivers—not from the cold but from the intimacy of the moment.

“You don’t have to—”

“Peter,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “Let me.”

He nods, and you slide the shirt over his head, revealing the bruises that scatter across his ribs and shoulders. Your lips press into a thin line as your fingers ghost over the marks.

“I’m okay,” he says quietly, reading your expression.

“I know,” you reply, though your voice wavers. “But it still hurts to see.”

You help him with the rest of his clothes, and once he’s undressed, you guide him into the shower. The water cascades over his shoulders, washing away the grime and tension of the past week.

“Feel good?” you ask, stepping closer to rinse his hair.

He hums in response, leaning into your touch as you work the shampoo through his strands. The rhythmic motion is grounding, and he finds himself relaxing under your care in a way he hasn’t in weeks.

By the time you’ve rinsed the soap from his hair and body, Peter looks lighter, his features softened with gratitude and love.

When he steps out, you’re there with the towel, wrapping it around him before drying his hair gently. He pulls you into a hug, the warmth of his skin and the weight of his arms around you filling the room with a sense of calm.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your hair.

You pull back just enough to smile up at him. “Always.”

[itsnesss]

𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 | peter sutherland × fem!reader

summary | a quiet evening with peter turns bittersweet when an urgent call forces a temporary goodbye, but both share their love and a promise to reunite soon

warnings | temporary separation, emotional tension, mild angst

word count | 1.8 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

It’s a quiet night when you arrive at Peter's house, the soft light from the lamps reflecting a comforting atmosphere in the room. The door opens almost immediately after you knock, and he’s there, standing with a smile that seems to brighten the room even more than the soft lighting. "Good to see you," he says, and his voice feels like a whisper of calm amidst the chaos that always surrounds his life.

You simply nod, your nerves calming just a little as you take in how cozy his home feels. It’s hard to imagine someone like him, so deeply involved in politics and security, also having such a serene refuge. "How was your day?" you ask as you take off your jacket, feeling his eyes on you, but not with the pressure you might expect. It’s a soft gaze that makes you feel at home.

Peter closes the door behind you, and without saying another word, he leads you to the kitchen. The simple things seem to be what you both enjoy in these moments. He, always so serious and focused, allows himself a break when he’s with you. He’s told you before: you’re his peace, his small escape.

"Would you like something to drink?" he asks as he pulls out a bottle of white wine, one of his favorites. There’s something in the way he moves that always captivates you. Every gesture, every movement seems calculated, yet still so natural when you see him with those bright eyes of someone who, even though tired, is always present. As if he’s ready to enjoy the simplest of dinners or a conversation that could stretch for hours.

"Yes, please," you reply, smiling softly. You lean against the edge of the kitchen table while you watch him pour the wine. The way his hand moves, elegant, assured, makes you think of everything he’s been through to get to where he is. But in this moment, it doesn’t matter what came before. All that matters is now. Here. With him.

When he finally hands you the glass, his eyes meet yours, and the world outside that kitchen seems to fade away. There are no threats. No conspiracies. Just him, you, and a small corner of tranquility you’ve both built, even if only for a few hours.

"Sometimes," he starts, as if he’s been thinking about it, "all I want is this. Something simple. Something that’s not filled with complications." He looks at you as if he’s searching for something in your eyes, as if waiting for an answer, even though you know he’s not asking a specific question. You just need to listen. He needs to be heard.

"I get it," you say softly, and take a step closer to him. "Sometimes I just want to be here too. Not having to worry about anything else."

Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing interrupts the silence in the room, and you both glance at it with a mix of frustration and resignation. Peter steps away from you slightly, his expression shifting instantly, the seriousness he always carries returning quickly.

"Sorry," he says as he glances at the phone screen. "It’s urgent. I have to take it."

You nod, though inside, you wish he didn’t have to. The contrast between the peace you’d just shared and the sudden pressure that seems to envelop him again leaves a knot in your stomach. You know it’s part of his life, but that doesn’t make it any easier.

"It’s okay," you reply, though you can’t help but let a slight hint of sadness slip into your voice.

Peter looks at you for a moment before answering the call, and for an instant, he seems to hesitate. As if he wants to stay with you, as if what he has with you is more important than whatever the call represents. But in the end, he answers the call, his voice firm and professional, returning to that role that sometimes seems so foreign to the man you know.

"Peter..." you say softly, before he walks too far away. He looks up at you, his expression softening.

"I know," he replies, his eyes shining with a mixture of regret and understanding. "It hurts, but I can’t avoid it."

You sigh, walking over to him and touching his arm. "I know. And I understand."

The call continues in the background, but he doesn’t pull away completely. For a second, it seems like he forgets everything else. He’s just there, with you. It’s as if time slows down, and you both allow yourselves to savor those last few seconds together before reality pulls you apart once more.

"Promise me that when this is over, you’ll come see me," you say, your voice thick with contained emotion.

Peter nods, his expression soft yet filled with quiet determination. "I promise. As soon as I can."

The moment doesn’t last much longer. The call persists, and finally, with one last look between the two of you, he’s forced to step away, to respond to whatever it is that’s called him back to duty. But before he takes another step, he grabs your hand, and his fingers tighten around yours with a firmness that speaks volumes more than words could.

"I love you," he whispers, and those words hang in the air, suspended in the space between you both.

"I love you too," you reply, your voice barely a whisper, as if those words could break the spell of distance that’s beginning to open up between you.

He takes the call, but looks at you once more, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. And even though his words are directed at someone else, the echo of his promise to return still lingers in your mind, reminding you that, even though the goodbye is temporary, what you shared will never fade.

Finally, you pull away from him, feeling how the emptiness starts to settle in your chest, while his words still throb in your heart.

[lustagel]

A SENSE OF RELIEF : PETER SUTHERLAND

 ❜୧ shit was hitting the fan so quickly peter could barely keep up. he didn’t know where was safe and where it wasn’t— but something he did know was he needed a place to lay low with rose. and with all that on his mind, he still couldn’t help but think of you.

c. no description of reader besides you being shorter than him. swearing. talks of… violence, blood. kissing. friends to lovers. not proofread. — gif credits: @userhazy !

l. new man!! edit: the comments are too cute! thank you 4 the sweetness.

anxious, heavy breathing consumed the cars fresh air coming in from the broken windows as peter’s eyes flickered from the rear view mirror, to rose, to the road. once he felt it was clear he stopped checking the mirror and mainly focused on the road and rose. his eyes flickered over to her, concern in his eyes. “you okay?” he asks making her look over at him. he sees a small cut from the glass on her forehead but sees no other injuries making him nod. “okay, you’re okay,” he says, mostly to himself.

the cold air from the night brushed against their faces as the night and city passed them. peter wasn’t thinking too much about the cold though— no, he was too overwhelmed by everything. he was only a guy who sat in the basement and answered a phone that never rang, hours ago. now he’s getting shot at and has to look after a woman who barely trusts him. he was never overwhelmed easily, but this was definitely above his level.

he couldn’t think straight. “you alright?” roses voices rings over his ears. he blinks, removing himself from his thoughts. questions and thoughts still crowd his head though. questions that he can’t answer himself, but he has to find an answer to. thoughts that you can only make settle and calm. “yeah… umm, yeah,” he says, he swallows hard, anxiously.

he realized quickly that he needs to call you. he looks over to rose to see if she was okay again before speaking. “can you call the second emergency contact?” peter asks, and rose quickly nods. she grabs his phone from the compartment under the radio and does as asked. “thanks,” he says once the phone begins to ring.

the phone rings through out the car speakers. he only hoped you would pick up. you worked early day shifts at your regular job so you were always asleep when he was fully awake. even so, the two of you always vouched to answer the phone when the other called— it was like protocol between the two of you.

“y/n,” you answered, voice half asleep. peter slightly winced at the sleep in your voice. he hated to wake you, even though you’d told him many times before it was fine. he still hated the thought of you losing sleep over his bullshit, but he needed someone safe to go. “hey, it’s… ah peter,” he stuttered.

“oh hey, what’s up? do you need something?” you question, sitting up in bed on the other side of the phone. he could hear the slight worry in your voice. you always worried about him. “yeah, i do actually,” he spoke, and cleared his voice before sitting up in his seat, giving a glance to rose whose eyes looked out of the window. “something big is happening but i can’t tell you over the phone. we need somewhere to stay and i know i can trust you,” he continued.

“umm… yeah, sure. come over whenever,” you say, a yawn following soon after. peter nods, “thanks. we’ll be over in 5. i owe you one.” he goes to hang up, but he hears you lightly chuckle. “you know you don’t owe me anything, peter,” you say, voice light and airy. it sometimes gave him goosebumps, your voice always did.

he sighs not in disappointment, but in relief. maybe it was your voice or the way you worried, but he couldn’t help but feel a sense of security with you. you always gave him a sense of relief and comfort. he chuckles as well, realizing now how stupid he sounded in the first place. “yeah… i know. i’ll see you in 5, yeah?” he says. “yeah,” you replied.

silence filled the car after, but rose couldn’t help but look over at peter. she was not only interested in where she was going and staying, but also who was on the phone before. “where are we going?” she asks and peter gives her a glance before looking ahead again. “a friends. i’ve known her for a year. she ah… knows me better than i know myself.”

rose could only nod. “is she FBI too?” she asks, and he shakes his head. good, rose thought. she was tired of dealing with FBI and white house assholes. she stayed quiet the rest of the ride and so did he. both for different reasons.

xxx

at your house, peter grabs his bags which is a book bag, along with rose’s things hers being a small duffel bag. “how do we know she won’t try to kill me?” rose asks as they approach the front door. it was a sarcastic remark and also not one. she didn’t know who to trust and had been though a lot in the last hour, so he let her remark towards you slide this one time.

he turns to her and sighs. “she’s not, alright? trust me. she hates even the thought of a cat starving…” he turns back around to the door. “she won’t be able to stomach killing someone,” he said, before knocking on the dark brown wood. “unless it’s the person who left the cat out to starve,” he whispers, not talking to anyone in particular. soon after, the door swings open revealing you in a shirt and pajama pants.

“hi,” you smiled at him. “hey, umm… this is rose,” he said, directing your eyesight to the short haired girl standing beside him. she smile with a small wave and you smile right back. “hey,” you said and there was silence before realizing how cold they must be. “oh! come in.” you step aside, letting them in.

“no need to dress all fancy for us,” peter teased with a light chuckle. you look up and down at yourself as you close the door, quickly realizing his tease, and you chuckle. “shut up. was i supposed to wear a beautiful dress for a friend and a stranger?” you ask, as peter sits down his things by the couch, stripping from his coat soon after. rose stands on the opposite side of the coffee table, feet stuck to the floor with glue.

you quickly realize what you said and moved your graze from him to her. “no offense,” you say with a light smile. she’s quick to shake her head and raise her hands, “none taken.” rose’s eyes wonder around the house from where she was standing. she didn’t want to move unless you felt comfortably with it.

you catch onto that and are quick to speak up. “make yourself at home…” you start, making her look at you. “kitchen’s over there. there’s a guest room upstairs with a full bath attached… so bathroom all to yourself.” you finish, and she’s quick to move from her stuck position, to around the living room. when she turns her head a bit you catch a glance of the small cut on her forehead. “there’s a couple band-aids, and neosporin in the bathroom too. to clean up…” you gesture to her head. “that.”

unsure of what you were talking about she goes to touch it, just to be meet with a sting. “thank you,” she smiles lightly before heading upstairs. peter was a couple steps behind her, giving you a small smile. “i’ll be back,” he says, before heading up the stairs as well. he quickly checks the windows for locks and makes sure they’re all the way closed. he looks out the window in the guest bedroom. rose stand by the bed, watching with clean clothes in hand.

“i kinda see where you were going with the cat thing,” she says making him turn around. “yeah… she’s nice. umm… all the windows are lock and shut, but i’ll probably be up all night anyways so… sleep well, alright?” he questions and she nods before he leaves the room. he makes his way downstairs and finds you looking under the sink. “what are you looking for?” he asks, leaning against the counter top, arms crossed against his chest.

“this,” you say, pulling the first-aid kit from the space. peter is quick to shake his head, already knowing where you were going with this. “i don’t—” he starts but you cut him off. “you have a couple cuts on your face too. now, sit and tell me about the girl,” you demand with not one serious nerve in your body, only concern. he sighs before sitting at the dining table as asked—or demanded.

you place the kit on the left to you on the table as you move yourself to fit in between his legs. “her aunt and uncle was doing some type of business for the white house and she called the line,” he starts, watching you pour a small bit of alcohol on a cotton ball. “told me her uncle gave her the number and she didn’t know what was happening,” peter continues, hissing a bit when the cold alcohol makes contact with his scar.

his eyes were forced to look up at you as you cleaned the scar. “i stayed on the phone with her until the police got there then i called farr. you know the farr i’m always talking about?” he asks, making sure you understood and were listening. you hummed, your breath lightly brushing against his face. peter hadn’t realize you were so close until now. he felt the need to touch you but kept his hands on his thighs. he even began moving his hands up and down his thighs to soothe the urge.

“she ah… told me to pick her up and take her somewhere safe for the night and my place wasn’t for multiple reasons. but i knew yours was so here i am. i also needed to… umm—” he started but stopped himself. he wasn’t sure if he wanted to confess that part of the story. the random stop makes you speak. “i’m listening. just need to put a band-aid on it,” you say, softly.

he knew you were listening, he just wasn’t sure if you were ready to hear what he was about he say. “yeah. i just… needed to clear my head. you know how i’m always in it,” he said, a light chuckle following hoping you wouldn’t be too worried, but when you take your eyes away from his scar to look him in the eyes he knows his chuckle didn’t help.

he sighs, looking away from your graze, hoping it wouldn’t affect his heart too much. your eyes always had a softness to them that made his heart arch and swell. maybe it was the way you didn’t look at him with pure disgust or sadness when he said certain things. you’ve only ever kissed his soul with worry and love. you’ve never once given him a reason to shy away from you— not one.

“don’t look at me like that,” he sighs, eyes finding everywhere else to look but your eyes. “like what?” silence fell over the kitchen as you waited for a response from his lips. but the time didn’t come, so you spoke up again. “peter,” you called, hoping his eyes would find yours. he heard the plead in your voice, so his heart sank in and his eyes found your once more.

he was right. your eyes were pleading, begging to be heard and understood. they hoped that he understood the intention behind your words were only good. “you know that i’m here to listen. whenever and where ever. okay?” peter searches your eyes for sadness, anger or even aggravation but he saw none. not even a glimpse.

mindlessly, he finds himself leaning in and soon your lips on his. they were just a soft as he thought they were, maybe even softer if possible. his itching hand’s finally find their way to your sides to massage at them. your hand cup his face, taking in the kiss for all of what it is. every emotion, every breath. until…

“oh!” the two of you hear making you pull away from each other. you see rose standing by the fridge like a deer in headlights. “sorry to umm… ruin the moment. i’ll just leave,” she said slowly back away but you stop her. “no, it’s okay. what do you need?” you ask, removing yourself from peter to go over to her. “are you sure you weren’t in the middle of anything?” she asks giving a glance to peter behind you.

“yeah, but it’s fine. seriously, what do you need?” you asked with an awkward smile. “umm… water is all,” she says after remembering what she had came downstairs for. you nod and go into the fridge for a water bottle out of one of the drawers. you grab one, shut the drawer and shut the fridge door behind you. “here you go,” you said, giving it to her. “thank you. i’ll see you two love birds in the morning,” she teased, winking to you before waving to peter who gives a short wave back.

with a grin on her face, she makes her way upstairs. “well that was something,” you laughed, looking back over to peter who also laughs in reply. “you should get some sleep. you’ve had a long day,” you say, and he’s quick to nod. the two of your refuse to look at each other in the eye. you didn’t understand why because you were centimeters close to each other minutes ago.

“yeah… umm i’ll just sleep on the couch,” he says, pointing over to it. you nod, and he stands from the chair to walk over to it. you didn’t speak a word as you cleaned up your mess. from the bloody cotton balls to the neosporin. after putting everything up, you head for the stairs, hoping to get away from the awkward atmosphere.

but your luck ran out when you hear your name being called. you’re quick to look his way. you weren’t completely sure if he was looking at you or not but you hoped he was. “good night,” he says a light smile on his face.

“good night, peter,” you smile.

xxx

“your mattress works wonders,” rose comments as she comes down the stairs, bags in hand. you and peter laugh as the two of you stood at the door. “thank you. i’m glad you slept well,” you smiled at her. peter opened the door so she could exit, towards the current running car in your driveway.

the two of you watched as she walked farther from you in silence, until you spoke. “don’t do anything stupid, and remember: you can always come back here when you need me,” you said, the two of you finally looking at each other ever since last night. “yeah, i know,” he says with a nod before walking out of the door as well.

you stand at the door as he walks down the stairs and on the forth step he stops. he turns around and is quick to make his way back up the stairs to you. before you could mutter up a sentence, his lips are on yours and your breath is catch in your throat. the kiss is soft and light hearted.

soon, he pulls away, eyes peering down at yours. “i don’t want you to worry. i’m gonna be okay,” he says, your face in his hands. his eyes only hoped to prove some type of comfort to your heart. you only gave him a faint smile. “you’re gonna be okay,” you repeat, hoping you’d believe it and not worry. you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t though.

[bellarkeselection]

America's Little Eagle

Protecting the President's daughter...what could go wrong?

When Peter Sutherland gets called by President Michelle Travers, he never imagined it would be a request to protect her daughter Y/n. He could do that part of the job for sure, but falling for his bosses daughter, that's uncharted territory.

Tag list - send an ask to be added

@ice-man-goes-bwoah @fanfictionaddiction99 @coldheartedmar

[lovelytsunoda]

misc. masterlist

instagram au masterlist

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

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

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take my breath away ,, tom kazansky 🌹

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[number-0-iz]

Okay but what if I write a story where the OC (or reader but I mostly write with OCs) is Peter's Napoleon Solo? WHAT THEN?😂

(For reference, I mostly write on wattpad so idk if I'd do it here or there and if I did do it here, I'd need to look into my layout and if it needs changing. Also I am currently working on my Shadow And Bone sequel fic and I have many drafts rip. ANYWAY)

[gel-electrophoresislab]

The Gala

Peter Sutherland x reader fic

Synopsis: You are Peter’s best friend and fellow night agent. You both get invited to the presidential gala and Peter gets to see you in a whole new light.

Warnings: Kissing, a protective Peter, tooth rotting fluff :)

————————————————————————

"Hey, you ready for this?" Peter asked, his voice coming through the speaker on your phone.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, glancing in the mirror one last time. Your reflection stared back at you, dressed in the elegant gown you had picked out for tonight's gala at the White House. The fabric shimmered under the soft glow of the room's lighting, hinting at the chaos of the evening ahead.

"You're going to knock 'em dead," Peter said. “I’ll see you when you get here”. Peter’s voice held a warmth that you had grown to rely on over the years of working together. Best friends and fellow night agents, you two had been through thick and thin, but this was new territory. The president had personally invited the two of you to the event, a rare occasion for agents of your caliber to step out from the shadows.

The ride to the White House was filled with anxiety. You knew that underneath the glitz and glamour, the gala was a minefield of potential threats and diplomatic tension. You also knew that no one had seen you dressed like this before. You knew how to clean up nice, but you weren’t sure what people would think of you. But for now, you allowed yourselves to enjoy the moment. The car pulled up to the grand entrance, and the doors swung open, revealing a sea of people dressed to impress.

As you stepped out of the vehicle, Peter's gaze swept over you. His eyes widened, and his voice hitched. "Wow," he murmured, the compliment hanging in the air unsaid. It was the first time he had seen you in anything other than your usual tactical gear, and you felt a blush creep up your neck. The romantic tension between you had always been there, a subtle dance of feelings unspoken.

Inside, the grandeur of the White House washed over you. Crystal chandeliers cast a dazzling light across the marble floors, and the air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and perfume. You and Peter melded into the crowd, blending in despite the eyes that occasionally strayed in your direction. It wasn't every day a new face graced these hallowed halls.

Other agents began to approach, their gazes lingering a bit too long, their smiles a tad too eager. You felt Peter's hand gently rest on the small of your back, a silent assertion of his presence. It was a gesture that was both comforting and surprising. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you kept your cool, flashing a professional smile.

"I'm not used to all this attention," you admitted to Peter, leaning in so he could hear you over the din of the crowd.

"You look amazing," he said, his voice low and earnest. "But you know what? I think you're even more beautiful when you're not all dressed up."

His words resonated within you, a reminder of the friendship that had always been the foundation of your relationship. You felt a weight lift off your shoulders as you looked into his eyes, the unspoken romance between you suddenly less burdensome.

And then, as the evening unfolded, you realized that the night had only just begun. The gala was a whirlwind of handshakes, polite conversations, and the constant scanning for threats. Peter was always at your side, a steady anchor in a sea of unpredictability. Yet, amidst the glamour and the danger, there was a shift in the air—a charge that you couldn't ignore. The night was far from over, and you had a feeling that the real adventure was just about to start.

As you moved through the throng of guests, an agent you had never met before approached you with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He was handsome, you'd give him that, but his hands were a bit too eager. He grazed your arm, and you felt a chill run down your spine. Before you could react, Peter stepped in, his eyes narrowing.

"Everything okay here?" Peter's voice was a low rumble, a warning that didn't go unnoticed. The other agent's smile faltered, his hand retreating from its unwelcome perch on your arm.

"Just admiring the company," the agent replied with a smarmy smile, not quite taking the hint.

But Peter's grip on your waist tightened, a clear message that you were not to be touched by anyone else. You felt a rush of warmth at his protective stance, a feeling that was both comforting and thrilling. "I think she's got enough admirers for one night," he said, his voice a subtle challenge.

The agent took a step back, his smile slipping into a scowl before he turned and melted back into the crowd. You looked up at Peter, your heart racing. "Thanks," you murmured, your eyes searching his for a clue to what he was feeling. But Peter's expression was unreadable, his focus on the task at hand unwavering.

As the night grew late and the gala wound down, you found yourself longing for the simplicity of your apartment, away from the prying eyes and the suffocating formality. "I think I'm going to head out," you told Peter, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'll walk you home," he offered, his voice steady.

The walk back to your apartment was quiet, the cool night air a welcome respite from the stuffiness of the gala. You were grateful for the solitude, your thoughts racing with the events of the evening. The touch of Peter's hand on your arm was comforting, his presence a balm to the tension that still lingered from the unwanted attention.

Once you reached your building, you turned to him with a smile, your heart thudding in your chest. "Do you want to come up for a bit?" you asked, hopefulness coloring your voice. "Just to hang out, I mean. I know it's been a long night."

For a moment, Peter hesitated, his eyes searching yours. Then, with a nod, he said, "Yeah, I'd like that."

As you rode the elevator to your floor, the silence stretched out between you, filled with the promise of something more. When the doors finally slid open, you stepped into your apartment, the familiar surroundings feeling somehow foreign with Peter by your side. You offered him a drink, which he accepted, his eyes taking in the personal touches that made the space yours.

With a deep breath, you slipped into your bedroom, eager to shed the weight of the gala. You changed into a soft, oversized sweater and a pair of leggings, washing away the layers of makeup that had painted a different version of you. As you emerged, feeling lighter and more like yourself, Peter's gaze found yours. He was sitting on the couch, his tie loose and a small smile playing on his lips.

"There's my girl," he said, the words so simple, yet they hit you like a sucker punch. Your heart skipped a beat, the endearment echoing in your ears. He had never called you that before, not in that way. The warmth of his smile spread through you, chasing away the chill from the evening's tension.

"What do you mean?" you asked, trying to play it cool despite the sudden heat in your cheeks.

"You know, the one who can kick ass and take names without breaking a sweat." He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "But tonight, you got to be someone else, and I kind of missed this version of you."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound mingling with the music that played softly in the background. "I never got a chance to dance tonight," you said wistfully, looking down at your comfortable outfit.

Without a word, Peter set his drink on the coffee table and extended his hand. "Then let's dance," he said, his voice low and inviting.

You took a step closer, placing your hand in his. His palm was warm, his thumb brushing gently against yours. He pulled you into his arms, and you felt his heartbeat against your chest as the music swelled around you. The living room of your apartment was a far cry from the grand ballroom of the White House, but in that moment, it felt like the most luxurious dance floor you had ever stepped onto.

You moved in sync, your bodies fitting together as if you had been doing this for years. The awkwardness of the evening's encounters faded away, replaced by the familiar rhythm of your partnership. Your eyes met, and you felt something shift between you, a current of understanding and desire that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

As the song came to a close, Peter didn't let go. Instead, he held you closer, your foreheads touching. You could feel his breath on your skin, and the closeness was intoxicating. The silence stretched out, filled with the thunder of your own heartbeat.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the city outside.

"For what?"

"For being you," you said, looking up into his eyes. "For making me feel like this."

And before you could second guess the moment, Peter leaned down, his lips brushing against yours. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the promise of more. It was a kiss that could change everything.

As you pulled back, breathless, the air between you crackled with the tension of what had just happened. But Peter's smile was soft, his eyes filled with the same affection and friendship you had always seen. It was as if he knew that this was just the beginning, and that the real dance was about to start.

Author’s note: Eeeeeep I can’t believe I’m finally posting writing. I’ve been a long time reader and enjoyer of fanfiction, but never a writer so this is all very new to me. If you have any advice or edits, please let me know!

[baestruly]

the difference between calls ━━ peter sutherland

( 𝗌𝗒𝗇𝗈𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗌 )  peter sutherland x fem!reader

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ IN WHICH there’s an obvious comparison between peter’s first call from you and a call he receives when you are together. when it comes to your safety, peter doesn't play.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - hurt/comfort, panic attacks, kidnapping, reader is rose's sister

𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 ━━━━━━━━

Peter sat at his desk, the pen tapping rhythmically against the worn wood. A mountain of paperwork loomed over him ━━ shit, he was behind on that, he never got much sleep, figuring it could wait as he stared blankly at the moving pen. 

The sharp sound of ringing made his heart skip a beat. There was no covering the fact peter strived and wished he had a little more than just a desk job ━━ answering calls, more specifically ━━ he lived for the thrill. It was evident from his heart thundering in his chest. answering the night agent's phone was a step up from being a 911 operator, at least. 

Until━━ 

“Go ahead.” He said smoothly, his pen turning in the same hand as he rested his elbow on the desk. 

“Um━━uh, night action! night action━━” 

The frantic voice on the other end made Peter stiff. The pen stopped twirling between his fingers. 

“Yes, hello. Code, please.” He replied, like countless times before. Peter grabbed his binder out from under the desk on the shelf and opened it in front of him, flipping through the pages with his one free hand. 

“Please, you have to help up━━oh my god, my sister━━me━━they’re coming after us!” If even possible, the voice was more frantic, gasps heaving in and out from what Peter recognized as a panic attack or something along the lines. 

This didn’t seem like his usual business toned atmosphere once he answered. It sounded like they had got the wrong number, he never dealt with situations like this, especially from people who didn’t seem like they knew what to do with the number and him across the line.

“Ma'am, if you don’t have a code━━it seems like you have the wrong number━━” 

“No! I have ur flippi━━I have the code gimme a second.” The girl spat. Peter bites his cheek as he hears whispering on the phone━━likely the woman’s sister.  “Okay! It’s table, clock, water, fire. You got it, did you━━” 

“Yes, I got it.” Peter interrupted, eyes flying through pages in a matter of seconds. Settling on the 80th page, he looks at the code that was given to him. “Is this Benwire or Ramese?” 

“What? What even is that?” A pause followed, filled with nervous energy. “They just told us to tell you the code; I don’t know who these people are?” 

More whispering ━━ frantically. Peter’s chest tightened as he heard sobbing in the background. This sounded like something 911 would have to deal with. 

“What street did your friend Morsese live on?” 

The question just seemed to make the hyperventilating worse. 

“Maam, are you okay? I can dispatch you to 911 if you’re in any dang ━━ ” 

“No, they told us to call you ━━ this number, they made sure of it! God knows they’re probably fucking dead.”

“Whose they?” Peter sat up straighter, urgency sharpening his instincts as he abandoned the paperwork 

“Our aunt and uncle, Emma and Henry. Campbell. Emma and Henry Campbell.” 

Peter bit his cheek more, holding the phone in a wave of silence. It was clear this girl was probably on the brink of passing out; she wasn’t breathing right. But she wasn’t the only one clueless, Peter had no idea who she was talking about either. 

Peter always had his protective instinct towards others in danger ━━ it came in hand with him working in the FBI. If this girl's aunt and uncle told her to call the line it could have some relevance in later reports━━but he wasn’t going to hang up on her yet. 

“Hello━━?” 

“I’m here. Run me through what’s happening, who’s after you?” Peter asked, his tone less harsh, preparing to do what he thinks he’s always done best ━━ just like on the metro ━━ save people. 

𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 ━━━━━━━━━

There was something Peter should be used to ━━ but now, with you in his life ━━ he never could be. It was the constant stress he was under, with you being associated with him and not knowing the minute something could blow up and ruin everything. 

Ruin your life. 

It’s why Peter has such a hard time leaving you in your guy’s apartment every day so he can go to work. In that shitty basement when he would much rather be spending every growing second by your side, ready to jump at anything that could put you in harm's way. 

Everything in the white house was total shit ━━ no one could trust anyone. But it’s been a few months since the attack at Camp David. Peter was offered a job as a night agent to serve in the field ━━ but decided to keep it safe, taking smaller jobs in the white house assigned by the president after what seemed like an ongoing thank you ever since he helped save her from the bombs. 

But he had no complaints ━━ and neither did you. He’s looked happier than he ever has, coming home and wrapping his big arms around you was his favourite part of the day, inhaling the soft vanilla scents of your (y/h/c) hair, bringing him to the present and the reality of it all, how the world brought him to you ━━ even in the worst circumstances.

Peter had no idea that these circumstances would repeat themselves.

After kissing you goodnight, he headed out, waiting the usual time he did outside the office door as the clock hit midnight. 

Peter nodded to his coworker in a firm greeting before entering and closing the door. He wasn’t sure how much time passed once he sat in that seat ━━ but the calls were quiet as they had been for the past few days. He didn’t work as much time on the phone as how Diane assigned him ━━ he got to get out a bit and work on other things, too. 

Then, after not hearing the old ━━ but familiar ring for a while, Peter’s head snaps towards it as it shakes once. He grabbed it quickly, unable to stop himself from imagining he could be on the other end. 

“Hello━━” 

“Peter Sutherland.” 

Peter’s brows snap together in alert and confusion, blinking a few times before shifting and resting his elbow on the table. 

“Code, please.” He’s said it many times before. 

“This is going to go very differently.” But he’s never heard that.

There’s a muffled scream. 

Or that. Was it━━ 

Fuck, he was not doing this, not today. Immediately, he jumped up, his chair flying back and almost hitting the back grey wall. 

“Who the fuck are you ━━ if you do anything to her ━━” 

“Yes, yes, I've heard that line many times before, during your whole night agent spiel a few months ago…you guys are really cute, the perfect partners in crime.” He laughed, it sounded awful, painful even. Peter’s head was racing, which seemed to match his heart. “Even recognized your scream right away, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” 

That was it. Peter pushed the chair out of his way as he paced around the room, fists balling together. He could hear your cries in the background, and his mind brought him back ━━ when you had been so scared, being prone to panic attacks under stress. 

And he couldn’t do a single fucking thing right now because he wasn’t already there. 

“Just tell me what you know about what happened with your dad, and then━━” 

“Fuck you.” Peter spat, hands angrily raking through his hair ━━ he hated how the caller knew how to get under his skin but he wasn’t going to let his guard down when it came to you, he needed to think ━━ he had to. 

“Ooh! we’ve got a bite. That’s not what the lovely lady wants to hear as her last words, I'm sure.” 

There's more shuffling. 

“Peter━━Peter,” your voice cracks, twisting into a desperate whisper, raw and fractured. “Please come back.” 

Peter’s heart stops hearing your voice in such a state, eyes widening with stress and concern. He can’t even picture you right now or he might have to sit down. He knew he could stall the caller to buy them some time so they could get to you without alerting him. 

“Hey ━━ hey, baby, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, and I'm going to be there, you gotta hold on for me, I know you can.” Peter abandons his usual name for you after that sick man used it as a taunt towards you, he couldn’t cloud your vision and get his voice mixed up with the callers in your already jumbled brain. He knew how terrified you were because he’s seen it through the countless sleepless nights and panic attacks. But it was all coming true, and Peter wanted to curse himself for letting this even happen, your worst nightmares that he promised so deeply to protect you from. 

A sniffle escapes from your end, the silence hanging heavy, a chilling agreement that doubles as a ticking clock. Peter thinks before hearing an even quieter whisper, barely heard.

“He’s got a gun━━took down both guards, but I think he’s planning on jumping out the big window, his buddy is coming in his truck.” 

Your voice is extremely shaky, but Your words shake him to his core. Peter steadies himself, whispering, “Okay.” Stopping his frantic pacing, he speaks as clearly as his racing heart allows. “(y/n), we’re coming for you. The FBI will surround the house, but I need to hang up and alert everyone. Just nod like you’re still on the phone with me until he takes it, alright, baby?”  

Your voice quivered in return with a sniff, yes. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and slammed the phone down without a second thought, running to the conference room to get someone to immediately track the call in case he kept the phone on him if they got to the truck ━━ shit ━━ before they could. If anything, they could trace the calls or texts he’s made to his buddy.

He was running like a madman ━━ alerting the night agent team members. It was all a blur once he grabbed his gun and vest and drove out of there, police sirens going off everywhere and other agents' SUVS speeding close behind him. 

Peter jumps out of the car, barely having time to slam his car door closed as he’s already looking at the fifth-floor windows ━━ wondering what the fuck you meant by jumping out the fucking window into his buddy's truck? Because if you had anything to do with being entangled in that escape, this man would never see the end of it. He would hunt him down ━━ but he wouldn’t kill him. He’d make him live with horrible bruises and broken bones, and once he goes to the hospital, he’s taken to jail for not only assault but for interfering with private information and everything that happened with his father. 

This man would never see the fucking light because of how many times Peter would knock him flat out. 

Raising his gun, he carefully follows behind many other agents dressed in all black, whipping his gun in all open doors as he runs down the hallway and up the flights upstairs ━━ orders being yelled in the background.   

His legs were outrunning his brain, screaming at him to stop running because of how exhausted he was ━━ but finally, he reached the door. “FBI, OPEN THIS DOOR━━” 

“Peter!” Your panicked scream breaks through the noise, the sound driving him to force the door open, gun at the ready, prepared to confront whatever horror lay inside.

But then he sees you. 

In an instant, his gun drops to his side as he looks down at you, arms tied around the banister in the middle of the kitchen and living room. You know you must have looked like total shit as he abandons any proper FBI protocol and falls beside you, concerned eyes locking with yours as if they’re holding onto you for the only source of comfort while his hands untie yours quickly. 

Your glossy eyes, stinging with tears and probably drugs from how drowsy you were feeling for the past hour, started pooling with tears. It definitely wasn’t because of the drugs. 

You choked out a sob, one that's been buried in your chest for what feels like forever, as you startled into a coughing fit once Peter immediately wrapped his arms around you, staying kneeled on the ground because you had no energy to even attempt to stand, you were too shaky and would probably collapse the moment you put any weight on your legs. 

“You’re here; you made it back.” You whisper into his shoulder, already soaked with tears, breath hitching as your body trembles against his.

You could feel Peter’s relieved smile. “I know, I’m here. I’m so sorry this happened sweeth━━” 

He paused as if something shocked him. 

“Peter, it’s okay━━” 

“No ━━ no, it’s not.” He was still knelt, now facing you once you pulled away, hand rubbing his temples. “You’ve been traumatized enough, and me not taking the night agent job ━━ I could’ve been here, protecting you. But I left you, now he’s messed with your head, I can tell.” 

You shut your eyes tight, a quiet sigh escaping you, and that sigh only serves to unleash a fresh wave of tears, cascading down your cheeks. Despite Peter’s stressed state, he softly wiped them away. 

“You’re perfect. Your head, how you think ━━ everything about you, (y/n), and when somebody messes with that, it messes me up because I cannot physically allow myself to let that happen to you.” He takes your hands in his gently, turning them first and looking around your body for any signs of harm. You hated how he beat himself up for not being able to protect you. But he did help, he found you, and his idea about staying on the phone bought the other agents some time to track him down. 

You wince to yourself upon noticing he’s looking at the ━━ what are probably now ━━ agonizing bruises on your jaw and throat. You’ve taken punches before. It wasn’t anything new, they hurt like a bitch, though. 

Peter’s thumb glides against the tender, purple skin as his other fingers come to the back of your head in your hair, just behind your ear, and you lean into his comforting touch. “I’m sorry.” He wretched, keeping his hand in your hair and bringing your head to his chest. 

The two of you sit just like that, grounding yourselves through each other's mangled breaths. 

The right people can cloud right judgement is what Peter’s father always said. It makes your job harder when you have someone to lose. Peter made a promise to himself that night as you both lay under the covers, his thumb running circles over your knuckles. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t work behind that shitty desk again. 

Then, he would visit that sick man behind bars.

 masterlist peter sutherland masterlist

ty for reading!

[whorxology]

I got a request for Peter Sutherland

You know how he barely gets any sleep because of his job? Well, the reader is determined to make sure he finally gets some proper rest.

And he ends up falling asleep on her like a baby.

A/N: LOVE THISSS REQUEST!!! Sorry it took a minute to do I got swamped with some essay's HERE IT IS THO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Sleep Tight ❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

PAIRING: Peter Sutherland x Reader

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, not proof read

W.C: 0.7K

A/N: Honestly, I'm not too happy with the word count, but I ran out of ideas. Slowly coming out of my writing hiatus so hopefully yall like this. ALSO PETER DESERVES MORE RECOGNITION!! THE PETER SUTHERLAND X READER TAG BEING SO BARE SHOULD BE ILLEGAL!!

“Peter, that you?” your voice rang out from the shared bedroom. The apartment was nearly pitch black besides the dim light that shone from the cracked bedroom door. 

“Yea its me” 

You crawled out of bed putting on your robe before heading into the living room. Like clockwork Peter began his “nightly” routine even though I was nearly 8 am. You knew he would be up for another 2 hours doing work only to be up at 7 for work again. A never ending cycle. Glancing at Peter you felt his exhaustion. 

You could see it in the way his feet dragged across the floor, the bags under his eyes seeming to be worse these past few days, his tie that was barely tied anymore hanging loosely around his neck as if he had intended to take it off a while ago. His jacket was off and now hung on the hook by the door revealing his very wrinkled shit that was partially untucked. His movements were robotic, moving more from habit than actual thought. Drop his bag. Head toward the table where his laptop sat waiting, an ever-present reminder that his job never really ended even when he was off the clock. Do more work till he passed out from exhaustion on the table. Then go to work again.

Except tonight.

You came up behind him, hands resting on his shoulders gently digging into the meat of his back. With a groan he leaned his head back resting it on your chest. 

“Long day at work?” You asked your voice soft. Between your voice and your hands massaging his shoulders he could pass out any minute. 

“When is it not” He groaned before lifting his head, gently grabbing your hand off his shoulder to kiss your knuckles. He reached to open his laptop to continue his work when your hand reached out, fingers curling around his wrist gently, but firm enough that he knew this was non-negotiable.

"Not tonight."

He blinked, slow, like his brain needed a second to catch up. "I just need to—"

"To what? Work more? Stay up until you pass out again?" You shot a pointed look his way. You both knew you were right. Your hand still on his wrist gently tugged him up out of his seat towards the sofa. "Peter, you’re running yourself into the ground."

He let out a dry laugh. "I'm fine."

You gave him yet another look that screamed “bullshit”

You sit on the sofa dragging his large stature down with you. Gently you push his head onto your lap, your fingers threading through his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Immediately you felt his shoulders loosen, the tension bleeding out of them like air escaping a balloon. His eyes fluttered shut against his will, and his head tilted into the touch, chasing after it as if it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

A quiet hum slipped from his throat before he could stop it.

"See?" You let out a soft chuckle. One of your hands gently trailing down his back to gently massage his shoulder. "Feels nice, doesn’t it?"

Peter let out a sound, a mix between agreement and surrender. He didn’t want to admit how good it felt. How much he needed this. How much he had been running on empty, barely keeping himself together, until now. He shifted slightly bringing his arms to wrap around you, his head pressing onto your chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of your heartbeat matching his own. His exhaustion hit him like a wave, maybe it was your warmth, or the way your fingers gently moved through his hair and on his back tracing patterns, or maybe it really was just the exhaustion catching up to him. 

You could feel his breaths even out exhaling long and slow, his body going boneless sinking further into your touch, your presence, your silent reassurance that at least for tonight he didn’t have to keep himself upright. The world blurred at the edges, thoughts dissolving into a haze of warmth and comfort. 

Gently you reached up to grab the blanket resting on the back of the sofa, draping over the two of you. Pressing a kiss onto the top of his head you whispered. Your voice reached through the haze to anchor him in the only place that mattered. 

"Sleep, Peter. I've got you."

And for the first time in longer than he could remember, he let himself believe it.

And he slept.

[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."

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

No easy job||Peter Sutherland x fem!reader

Summary— Peter swore up and down he’d never join the secret service but here he is as the body guard of the presidents daughter who loves to keep Peter on his toes .

Word count—644

Peter Sutherland prided himself on being calm under pressure. It was practically a job requirement. Whether it was racing against the clock to prevent a terrorist attack or navigating the bureaucratic chaos of Washington, D.C., he always kept a cool head.

Until now.

“Do you always ignore every rule ever written, or am I just lucky?” Peter asked, his voice taut as he followed Y/N into the crowd of gala attendees.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder, smirking. “Rules are more like guidelines. You’ll get used to it.”

Peter exhaled sharply, gripping the earpiece in his hand before shoving it back into his ear. “I’m not supposed to get used to you wandering off without telling me.”

“I’m not wandering off. I’m mingling. Big difference,” she replied, plucking a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. The glint of the chandelier above reflected in her glass as she tilted it toward him in mock cheers. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Someone spills a drink on me?”

Peter scanned the room, his sharp eyes catching a suspicious figure lingering near the exit. The man adjusted his jacket, and Peter’s stomach tightened. He was already running through the possibilities—exit routes, potential threats, fallback plans. “The worst that could happen is someone targets you because your father is the president, and I’m left explaining why I let you stroll into danger like it’s a weekend hobby.”

She paused, turning to face him fully. Her expression softened just a fraction, though there was still a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “Peter, relax. I’ve done this a hundred times. No one’s going to target me in the middle of a charity gala. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Peter shot back, stepping closer. The faint buzz of conversation and laughter around them felt miles away. “You don’t get to be fine. You get to be safe. That’s the deal.”

Her smirk returned, this time tinged with challenge. “You’re kind of intense, you know that? Has anyone ever told you to loosen up?”

“Has anyone ever told you that ignoring protocol is a terrible idea?”

“Constantly.” She raised her glass again, but her fingers tightened around the stem. “Didn’t stick.”

Peter’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing, his eyes locked on hers. She had that maddening ability to act like nothing could touch her, like the world wasn’t full of people willing to exploit her trust and bravery. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was terrifying.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said finally, his voice softer but no less firm. “The way you brush everything off like it doesn’t matter? But it does, Y/N. You might think you’re invincible, but—”

“—I’m not,” she interrupted, her tone unusually serious. Her eyes flicked down, then back to his. “I know that, Peter. But I also can’t live my life hiding behind Secret Service agents every second of the day. It’s not who I am.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, searching for the right words. Something about her recklessness struck too close to home—someone else he’d failed to protect, someone else who didn’t listen. He couldn’t let that happen again. “I’m not asking you to hide. I’m asking you to let me do my job without feeling like I need a defibrillator on standby every time you step into a room.”

Her lips twitched, the smirk threatening to return. “Are you saying I stress you out?”

“Yes,” he deadpanned.

She laughed, and the sound pulled a reluctant smile from him before it faded. “Good. Keeps you on your toes,” she said with a wink, and before he could reply, she slipped into the crowd again, disappearing like a shadow.

Peter groaned, pulling his earpiece into place. He scanned the room quickly, noting that the suspicious man near the exit had shifted positions again, and his unease grew. Protecting Y/N was going to be the death of him—he was sure of it.

[itsnesss]

𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐩𝐞 | peter sutherland × fem!reader

summary | late at night, you find yourself followed by peter, the quiet, ever-present figure. what starts as a tense encounter quickly spirals into something more dangerous, blurring the lines between your mission and your growing feelings for him

warnings | tension, smut, explicit content, p in v, unprotected sex

word count | 2.3 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The fresh night air hits you hard as you walk down the secure building’s hallway. At this hour, everything is deserted, the only sound you hear is the thudding of your own steps on the cold floor. The day has been long, and all you want is a hot shower and a bed to forget everything. But the mission is far from over.

Your thoughts scatter when, suddenly, the sound of familiar footsteps reaches your ears. A sigh escapes your lips before you turn, because you know exactly who it is. There's no need to see him to know it’s him.

He's always been nearby, always that silent watcher who observes from the shadows. But tonight, there’s something about his presence that makes you feel more uncomfortable than usual. Maybe it’s the way he follows you, almost as if he's waiting for something. Or maybe it’s everything: the tension between you, the unspoken words, the furtive glances in the hallways.

"Following me again?" you ask without fully turning to face him. You know he’s there, you can feel him. Your voice is firm, but there's a slight hesitation in the undertone of your words. You want him to leave you alone, but part of you is waiting for something more to happen.

Peter doesn’t respond immediately. He simply steps toward you with his firm stride, eyes locked on you. When you finally stop and turn to face him, you realize there’s something different about him, something you haven’t seen before. His eyes, that intense gaze that always seemed so distant, now carries something more.

"What I want..." he begins, his voice deep as always, but this time there’s a tension that makes it sound even deeper. "What I want is for you to stop running."

You don’t know exactly what he means, but you feel those words have been echoing in your head all along. It’s not just the mission, it’s not just the job. It’s something else, something neither of you wants to admit. But the truth is inevitable. And you feel it in the air between you, an electricity that cannot be ignored.

The hallway lights flicker slightly, adding a shadowy atmosphere to the moment. The building feels much larger, much emptier than it really is, as if all that’s left in it are the two of you. The world keeps spinning, but you and he are trapped in a bubble, a space suspended between reality and something much more dangerous.

"I'm not running," you say, although you know you don’t believe your own words. You turn completely toward him, facing Peter's intense gaze. "I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m not going to let you mess with my head."

"Really?" His voice softens, but the doubt still hangs between you. He takes a step toward you, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. His closeness makes you feel more alive than ever. "Because it doesn’t seem like you’re controlling yourself much."

You can’t help it. The challenge in his words is like a dare, and you can’t let it go unanswered. "I don’t know what you’re talking about," you murmur, but the nervousness in your voice is obvious.

Before you can react, Peter has taken the final step that separates you and, in one swift movement, pulled you toward him. A gasp escapes your lips in surprise, but it’s quickly silenced by the brush of his lips. The kiss is fierce, demanding, as if he’s finally releasing a weight you both have carried for far too long.

The tension between you explodes in that single kiss. His hands, as if they have a mind of their own, slide down your back, roaming over you with an urgency that makes you lose control. There’s no doubt, no turning back. The brush of his body against yours makes you shiver, and you can feel his heat merging with yours, creating a storm inside you.

Peter gently pushes you against the nearest wall, and the pressure of his body makes you see stars. The space between you grows smaller, and you surrender completely to the moment, letting yourself be swept away by the passion you’ve been ignoring for so long. Peter’s hands move up to your neck, his fingers firm yet gentle, exploring your skin as if he’s learning every part of you.

"Do you feel it?" he asks in the middle of the kiss, his voice rough, almost a whisper. "Because I do. I can’t keep ignoring this."

The answer you seek escapes you, but all you can do is respond with another kiss, hotter, more desperate. Clothes become a nuisance, and the movement between you grows more erratic. The sound of your shirt’s buttons hitting the floor is lost in the noise of your heavy breaths, as broken as the unspoken words.

Peter touches you, caresses you, and the feel of his hands on your skin makes you lose track of time. His mouth travels down your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses that make you moan softly. Each of his movements seems to answer a need, and for the first time, you realize it’s not just desire driving him. It’s the need for both of you to give in completely, with no barriers, no masks.

You also give in. Your hands explore his torso, sliding down his shirt, seeking the same thing he seeks in you: closeness, contact, the confirmation that this is real, that it’s not a dream from which you both will wake up tomorrow. There’s no room for doubt now. There’s no room for anything but desire.

"Are you going to regret this?" you whisper between kisses, feeling his body against yours, feeling how he consumes you.

"No," he replies firmly, and that answer melts you, makes you feel more certain about what’s happening. Because deep down, you know you won’t regret it either.

The passion intensifies with every passing second. The heat between you builds, and your clothes fall to the floor without hurry, as if the world you knew were just an illusion. The place where you are fades completely, and all that’s left is the desire, the fire that ignites when you finally unite in an embrace that surpasses everything that had been held back.

"Peter.." The name slips from your lips like a sigh, as if you were finally admitting something you had been denying for so long.

His is a murmured response, but your fingers slide down his back and his arms wrap around you, holding you in place. Peter's body positions itself over yours, and the pressure between you both makes you feel on the verge of bursting.

You feel his fingers exploring the path to your panties, and all you can do to help him is lift your hips towards him, eager to feel him inside you. The anxiety becomes as intense as the desire, and soon, your panties fall to the floor as well. The air is cool against your bare skin, but Peter covers you with warmth, with hungry kisses that devour you.

The sound of his zipper tearing mixes with the echo of their gasps, and pleasure becomes the only reality that matters. They don't need words; Peter's body is the confirmation of the promise they had been keeping to themselves for so long.

Pleasure is the release, the escape, the confirmation that both were seeking.

Peter stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours, searching for something beyond words. And in that instant, you know he already has your answer. In his eyes is written the confirmation, the commitment that nothing will change after this.

"But...", you begin to say, and Peter approaches you as if you were about to change your mind. But that's not what you feel.

"What?" she asks, her voice sounding like a suppressed moan.

"The mission...", you say with a hoarse voice. "We can't...".

But Peter doesn't need you to keep talking. His gaze is the answer you need, and without giving you time to continue speaking, he positions himself between your legs and pushes inside, filling you completely.

A cry of pleasure escapes your lips, and his mouth slides over yours to silence you. The pleasure is so intense, and you cling to him. Peter stops, giving you a moment to adjust, but soon he begins to move over you.

Your body curves towards him in an arc of pleasure, and your legs wrap around his hips, seeking more. Peter gasps softly, as if he too were on the brink of collapse, but he doesn't stop. His hips slide forward in slow, steady movements.

You follow him, you give in, you let yourself be carried away by the moment, by the pleasure that consumes you. Your arms slide over his shoulders, keeping you in place, while his mouth seeks yours again, to deepen the kiss.

Passion is the only thing that matters now. Everything else has become an illusion, a ghost of something that only distracted you from this moment. Pleasure envelops you completely, and soon, you feel that you are on the edge.

"Yes," Peter whispers against your mouth, as if he knows how close you are. "Like that, just like that."

The closeness between you two is so intense, so real, that you can't help but let the pleasure sweep you away. The orgasm takes you by surprise, and a dry gasp escapes your lips as you melt in his arms.

Peter keeps moving over you, his hips sliding in faster, more intense movements, until he finally feels he reaches his own climax. He positions himself between your arms, his body relaxing on yours as he tries to catch his breath.

A whisper escapes his lips as he caresses your skin with his fingers.

"This doesn't change anything," he whispers, and although you know it's true, you can't help but feel that something has changed. "I'm not going to let this distract you."

You know that Peter has always been like this: firm, determined, as if his presence in your life hadn't changed anything. But the truth is different.

"But something has changed," you whisper.

His eyes bore into yours, as if they were waiting for the answer. And you can't help but answer the truth. The truth you had always ignored.

The truth you had feared to admit.

"What is it?" he asks, his voice low and grave as always. But in his eyes, there is something more. A question that doesn't need to be answered.

You know it, you've known it since the moment he kissed you for the first time. Maybe long before that, from the very beginning. You have known since the first time Peter crossed your path.

"Everything," you finally say. And Peter smiles.

For the first time, you feel that something has changed. You feel that you have finally admitted the truth.

For the first time since you met yourself, you feel free. And you know that after this, you will never be the same. Not after having seen it all.

Peter slides out of you slowly, and his gaze remains fixed on yours as if he were still trying to read something there. The sound of his clothes crumpling on the floor pulls you out of the bubble you had been in, and a sense of emptiness hits you as soon as Peter moves away from you.

But he doesn't leave. He just steps away a little to get dressed and help you do the same. "We have to continue with the mission," he says firmly. And you have to make an effort not to respond with a sarcastic look.

[t-rexs]

I just started this show, but I already have an unhealthy obsession with this man

I love that you provide us with the quality content! 🤭

LOVE LANGUAGE ?

headcanons about peter’s love languages !

☆ PETER SUTHERLAND x f! reader | no word count

warnings — fluff x2900. kissing. swearing because that’s how i show my excitement. me willing to give my whole life for this man <33

MASTERLIST ! NIGHT AGENT LIST ⟢ NAVIGATION

kaus’s note 𓈒⟡ ݁. seen someone talk about his love language being acts of service and i thought a lot of things so here we are! time to get to work! | gif credit — @edmundo-diaz

˗ˏˋ reblogs & feedback are appreciated ! ˎˊ˗

ACTS OF SERVICE !

let’s start strong and very fucking on point.

he’s such a amazing boyfriend sometimes it makes you wanna cry.

holds the door for you everywhere you go. sometimes he even jogs a little to get to the door before you.

even if your hands are full or not— and they never will be because he’s willing to hold EVERYTHING for you.

OMG! when i say everything i when everything! you don’t want to carry your purse anymore? he can hold it. he’s soooo sweet!

if you do try to open a door, he’s most definitely pouting about it later but he’ll let you have it.

also he pulls out your chair for you.

is the type to take off his shoes so then you can have them if you’re feet are hurting in heels.

is it raining and you don’t have the right jacket? he’s giving you his. no questions asked. he doesn’t want you to get a cold.

makes breakfast in bed for you. even though you keep telling him he needs to be asleep. he just doesn’t listen.

WORDS OF AFFIRMATION !

please don’t let me get start on this man and his beautiful words.

in his eyes you can do no wrong. like ever. and if you ever think otherwise he’s saying the sweetest things to you.

peter will never be shy about his words to you.

if it has anything to do with you and absolutely praising your whole existence he’s going to say it.

leaves you the cutes notes if you’ve taken a nap with him and he has to go to work and he knows he’s not getting you up anything soon.

randomly sends you texts about how work is going and always asks you what you’re doing.

calls to check on you when he’s in the basement.

i can just imagine him calling you when he’s walking to farr’s office and he’s like “just called to ask what you were doing.” you will only be able to laugh. “peter, you just left.”

QUALITY TIME !

loves going shopping with you! omg! he fucking loves it and he will admit it.

he just loves to see that cute little smile on your face when you see something you like. makes his heart arch.

he also likes going grocery shopping with you. that’s really just to spend good time with you.

loves brushing his teeth in the morning with you. he isn’t sure why but just loves talking to you when you’re half asleep.

is willing to go anywhere with you. and when he finally gets a week or two off? man just know y’all are flying somewhere.

maybe even a good old road trip of you’re down.

i feel like he’ll love going places where there’s a beach. he’s definitely either in the water playing catch with some random kids or man.

OR he’s taking pictures of you. staring at you. telling you how good you look in the sun and in that bathing suit.

calls you when he’s completely bored and lonely in the basement, and he just can’t help but think of you.

“don’t you have to be listening for the phone to ring?” you would tease and he would practically hear the grin on your face. ”yes, but they can wait,” he chuckled, waving the phone off with his hand. the two of you only laughed.

RANDOM SHIT I THOUGHT ABOUT !

your friends most definitely love him. they are forced!

they kinda hate that they like him so much.

peter doesn’t care too much for himself most of the time so you have to look out for him when he isn’t.

if you’re the type where you love being up all night and watching movie. peter is your guy!

when he’s off he’s most definitely watching movies with you or sleeping on your lap.

that just got me thinking of sleeping positions.

and he most definitely lays his head on your chest like a big baby. his arms are wrapped around you and all that.

you’re little spoon! yes, he may be a baby but this makes him feel like he’s protecting you so you’re little spoon.

off topic but he most definitely kisses you on your shoulder and face in the mornings to wake you up.

𓏲 ★  2023 starr-k !!

finished this up at like 4am started at 2am. thought it would’ve taken me longer.

℘ click here to be apart of my taglist ! ✶ ݁.

[bellarkeselection]

1 - His New Assignment

Part 2

America’s Little Eagle

Tag list - send an ask to be added @fanfictionaddiction99

Peter Sutherland was sitting in silence on an airplane set by the President of the United States returning back from his last Night Agent mission.  “Agent Sutherland, we are now entering American airspace.” The pilot informed him shortly before the plane touched down on the runway and came to a stop. 

He slowly made his way down the plane steps coming into contact with a few secret security from the president that made him slightly nervous.  “Is everything okay here?” 

“We need you to follow us, sir.” One of the officers said before leading him into one of the tunnels that entered the White House.  There was silence until they reached a set of doors and he got led inside to see President Michelle Travers standing on the other side of the long wooden table.  

“Please come in, Peter.” She greeted him with her hands clasped together in front of her.  “Have a seat.  There is something I wish to discuss with you.” 

“It’s an honor to meet with you again, Madam President.” He told her sitting down across from her at the table. 

The President smiled at the man across from her.  She knew that he would carry out whatever mission he was assigned to the best of his ability.  “I know you took the job of being a Night Agent but I’d like to offer you something much bigger than that now that it has been some time since you helped Rose Larkin.” 

“What kind of offer did you have in mind, Madam President?” 

The female President slides a black file of the night agent where he reads over the title of the classified document.  “I want you to be the solo agent to protect my daughter Y/n Travers.  I want you to be her special secret service detail.  If you’ll accept the position.” 

“Doesn’t she already have her own security detail that protects her.  Why are you asking specifically for me?” 

President Travers turned her attention towards a door in the corner of the room.  “She used to until she personally requested the best agent I knew.  It was the day that you held me at gunpoint before the helicopter exploded.” Peter stared at the woman in front of him, hearing the door in the corner open and he saw a younger blonde woman come out into view.  

He would remember that day very vividly forever. 

Y/n’s pov 

Running behind my mother we were led towards the chopper with agents on either side of us until someone shoot one of them and my mom was pulled off to the side and a gun was pushed to the side of her head.  Blinking my eyes I gasped getting dragged behind one of the large crates seeing a guy with brown hair and bright blue eyes. “Listen to me! There's a bomb on Marine One! It's rigged to blow on lift off!” 

“Drop it.” One of the agents ordered. 

The guy shouted back at the agent, “Not until you kill the engine!”

“It's okay. What do you want, Peter?” My mother asked him where I attempted to peak over the crate my agents had me hidden behind. 

He told her. “ I don't wanna hurt you, ma'am.”

“Drop the fucking gun.” The black agent pointing his gun shouted. 

Peter backed further away, holding onto my mother.  “Not until you kill the fucking engines!”

“Kill the engines.” She gasped. 

“Listen to me. I'll drop the gun after you clear the helo, okay? There's a bomb on board. That agent was involved, Briggs was involved, the vice president's involved. He's trying to kill you. They're trying to kill the president!” Peter frantically explained to the agents and I felt that he was telling the truth. 

“You're holding a gun. We need you to drop your weapon.” 

Peter admitted to the agent focused on him. “I drop this, they shoot me. Please. I promise, ma'am,  I don't wanna hurt anybody.” 

“Just check the cabin.” My mother ordered them before I jumped upright and ran out into the area causing many agents to start shouting out my code name. 

“Little Eagle in enemy fire!” 

“Peter, right? Don’t worry, we'll do what you say.” Slowly stepping in between the agent and Peter, raising my hands up in surrender.  I knew if I stepped down this could turn into a gun fight. “Check the chopper for IEDs. You don't have to hurt my mother.” 

“I don't wanna hurt you, ma'am, okay? I don't wanna hurt anybody. I love my country.” Peter told my mother shifting his gaze over to me before the helicopter suddenly exploded but thankfully we all survived. 

Standing in the doorway I lightly crossed my arms over my chest scanning over the man I now knew as Peter Sutherland jr, the man who saved my mothers life two years ago.  I walked across the room pushing my hands down onto the table with my hair in its messy ponytail falling over my left shoulder.  “So you’re the famous Peter Sutherland jr or should I call you Copperhead?” 

“You know my Night Agent code name.” Peter chuckles slightly taken back by the fact that I could know something like that.  “Should I address you as Little Eagle?” 

I scoffed, taking a step backwards from him with a smirk forming on my lips.  “Not unless you can catch me first, Sutherland.” Spinning on my heels I chuckled bolting out of the room immediately running while he just sat in his chair. 

“Am I supposed to follow her, ma’am?” Peter eyed the president who simply leaned back into her seat. 

“I’ll warn you in advance that my daughter is quite the rebel.  Meaning she doesn’t do something for no reason.” 

Peter jumped up from his chair and bolted into the hallway after her.  “Shit!” This new job was definitely going to take some adjustment for him.  Y/n Travers would be keeping him on his toes every second of everyday.  

[lovelytsunoda]

take one down // francisco jenkins (the night agent)

summary: its been six months since cisco was shot, and if he didn't have her by his side, he's not sure he ever would have made it out alive

pairing: francisco jenkins x female! reader

SPOILERS FOR THE NIGHT AGENT SEASON ONE!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE FULL SEASON!!

author's note: justice for francisco!! all he wanted was to make a nice dinner for his tinder date, and now he's dead because he has a big heart and decided to help peter save the president.

he woke again, feeling the phantom pains of the bullet ripping through his skin, the disorientation of the airbag that had just been pressed up against his face.

francisco sat up slowly, listening to the hammering of his heart against his ribcage, trying to slow his breathing.

he was safe. president travers was safe. peter was safe.

the doctors had told him that if the bullet had been three millimeters to the left, he would have been laying on a cold metal slab in the morgue instead of the uncomfortable hospital bed, with ivs in his arms.

"cisco?" she mumbled quietly, the bed rustling next to him as she rolled over, rubbing at her eyes. "baby, did you have another panic attack?"

"it's nothing, y/n. just go back to sleep."

he wouldn't have made it through without her. they had been supposed to have dinner together that night. he had made a three course meal using a recipe he found on the food network, and he had shelled out more than fifty dollars on wine, because he didn't know what she liked.

and then peter fucking sutherland had knocked at his door, with rose larkin in tow. and because he was such a good person with a big heart, francisco rescheduled the date.

and then he got shot in a car chase, by a woman who looked like she let a toddler cut her hair. all because peter cried conspiracy.

peter had been right and now they were both national heroes, but that's semantics.

he had been so disoriented from the crash that happened just before, that he had moved too slowly, too sluggishly, pain ripping through his muscle and tissue as the bullet made a home in his shoulder.

it was by sheer luck that y/n had heard a radio report half an hour later about state trooper francisco jenkins, who had been shot in a car chase mid-911 call. and when he didn't pick up the phone, she jumped in an uber and tried four different hospitals before she finally found him, and they had spent their first date eating mary browns chicken in a hospital room after a surgeon dug a hunk of metal out of his skin.

"ssh, shh, baby, i'm right here." she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "you're safe, okay. nobody is going to shoot you. hold my hand, hon." she spoke calmly, kissing him on the cheek, paying close attention to the rise and fall of her lover's chest.

still breathing heavily, cisco reached out a shaky hand and pulled her into his side. he kissed the crown of her head, running his fingers along her skin to ground himself, trying not to let her see just how rattled the shooting had made him.

she was his rock. he hadn't asked her to stay by his side during the recovery process, she had made that choice for herself. she had been patient, caring and supportive, through the rehab and the media shitshow and the investigation.

he didn't know what he would have done without her.

he'd only just started going back to work, and the panic attacks had grown in frequency since he'd returned to the state trooper's office. there was always that fear that next time, he wasn't going to be so lucky.

"thank you for staying with me." he didn't recognize his own voice, the way that it wavered as he buried his face in her tangled hair. "i couldn't do this without you."

her heart swelled at her lover's admission. thought it had been painful to watch francisco recover from the shooting, it had been a labour of love. she had been sure she was in love with him before they even met, just from their conversations over tinder.

she smiled sadly, moving to straddle him, the hem of her oversized t-shirt riding up. "lay back down, baby."

"while you're on top of me?"

"francisco." she scolded. "lay. down."

rolling his eyes, the state trooper lay back down against the egyptian cotton sheets, the st. christopher pendant on his neck sliding across his skin from the movement, coming to rest just over the scar where the bullet had entered his shoulder.

y/n hummed contentedly, lowering her body so that she was resting against his bare chest, head nestled into ciscos neck as she pulled the comforter over their bodies. her shirt had ridden up over her calvins, cisco's hand moving to gently run along the expanse of her soft, warm skin

"i love you, francisco jenkins." she said gently, kissing the side of his neck. "and i'm always going to be here, yeah?"

cisco gripped her hand gently, craning his head to kiss her softly on the lips. "i love you more, y/n. i'm so glad that you've been with me through this."

[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