#(lol i still have one more meeting. this time with an agent. but hoping to FUCK it's just minor edits like the editor had

[dielgonacoffee]

i must finished s1... i have So Many Thoughts

- why in the ever living FUCK did they decide that danny getting together with rachel AGAIN was a good idea huh...? despite that relationship with stan crumbling apart she was still MARRIED mind you!! why did we decide that danny engaging in infidelity was a good idea 😭 (i have a bad feeling about her. HORRIBLE!)

- wo fat... hes like a persistent cockroach that just wont die despite how well you exterminate the place

- kamekona has got to be my favorite recurring character. shaved ice vendor by day, informant, gambler, weapons hoarder, babysitter, etc. at night. also all around A Very Good Bro. hope he sticks around for the rest of the series.

- is it weird that i like sang min's character? LOL hes like a pesky little shit and i love him for it. also helped 5-0 catch the hpd mole! brownie points for u sir!

- steve is such a menace to society honestly. how is he not charged with multiple counts of property damage and endangering of civilians. that grenade in the pawn shop? really? i will personally start a gofundme for your therapy bill mr. super seal

- you would think that danny would be able to control steve's worst impulses but hes just as erratic and impulsive lmao its quiet broody chaotic good meets loud mouthed argumentative chaotic good. they are cut from the same cloth.

- CHIN HO KELLY YOU SELF SACRIFICIAL BASTARD i swear if i wasnt so in love with your voice i wouldve throttled you across the room. handing over the deed of your house to a bookie? really?! 💀

- anyway i also love how he always has a shotgun instead of the standard handgun that they all have. (but when he shot that guy aiming for his cousin?! sir u were directly behind him im pretty sure u just blew a fist sized hole through that mans body 😭)

- kono kalakaua my beloved my surfer girl the most competent rookie in the history of rookies she went from being fresh out of the academy to being part of hawaii's elite task force. DESERVED. but i do wanna see more stuff about her that isnt surfing. the amount of time she spent in this season in a bikini is ABSURD.

- the dressing down steve gave ms cia agent whats her name?? HOT. that was unfair, i never stood a chance.

anyway i probably have more thoughts but theyre lost somewhere in the gray matter highway and i cant cough up more for this word vomit. might add to this post or make a new one when they arrive to me 🤷‍♀️

[lordsardine]

[halsteadlover]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐳𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬?

*Gifs not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Hotch have occasional rendezvous but each time you promise it’ll be the last even if neither of you seems to be able to stop.

• Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don’t be like them you guys wrap it if you want to use it!!!), cursing, dirty talk, oral sex m. receiving, basically porn with no plot lol

• Word count: 1824.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ MINORS STAY AWAY. I hope you like this, let me know what you think. Comment, reblog and like if you want and as always thank you so much for your support.

“Oh fuck Hotch you feel so good…-” you moaned loudly as you kept riding him on his chair. Your shaking thighs burned, your aching knees pressing against on his chair as his dick thrusted deeper and deeper inside you.

His hands were gripping your hips as he accompanied your movements, grunting and trying to remain silent while his fingers pressed against your skin so hard they left marks on it.

He let go of your hip and covered your mouth when another groan escaped your lips, making your moans become just muffled sighs. “Shut up, you don't want them to hear us do you?”.

You shook your head, biting into his palm as you placed your hands on the arms of his chair for support while letting yourself get rocked by the immense pleasure he was giving you.

It was a mistake.

You knew it was.

But God what a beautiful mistake.

You couldn't help it.

Since the day you and Hotch ended up in bed one night after a case and a few drinks, you didn’t stop having these rendezvous, neither of you could help it. Every time you promised yourselves it’d be the last, but it was enough to find yourselves close, or your eyes to meet during the discussion of a case, or for some reason his hand to casually caress yours to break this promise.

You were just like a drug for each other. From that first dose you had that night, you could no longer go without that feeling of euphoria and pure ecstasy the sex gave you.

Aaron Hotchner was the most sinful thought that crossed your mind, the forbidden thing you always craved and God did you love it.

Maybe it was the fact you were a BAU agent and he was your boss, maybe it was the thrill of being discovered, maybe it was the taste of the forbidden – hell, what would the FBI have said if they knew the upright boss of the behavioral analysis unit was breaking the rules that he himself continually reiterated to his agents?

This, however, didn't stop either of you, indeed it was as if all this was fuel thrown on the fire, passion and desire you already felt.

At first you both managed to keep that passion at bay, having occasional sex in hotel rooms when you were out of town for a case. But the more time passed, the more difficult it became to suppress everything, to hide that you wanted to rip each other’s clothes off every minute of the day.

And that's why you found yourself in his office that evening, fucking near his desk while there were still some colleagues still in the bullpen.

“God I've been thinking about you and this damn skirt all day… Fuck… You’re irresistible,” he muttered, his eyes scanning your figure sitting on him as his dick fucked your wet pussy.

He was completely mesmerized.

Your skirt was rolled up around your hips, the sheer black stockings you were wearing until recently had been ripped by Hotch in the heat of passion, your panties were thrown to the floor, your shirt unbuttoned and your bra moved as your breasts popped out and bounced to the rhythm of your motion.

You looked like a fucking goddess.

The walls of your pussy started to clench around his dick, making him twitch inside you, your hips stuttering as you felt your orgasm building more and more. It was as if your body was going through convulsions and you couldn't control it, you just wanted and desired that intense pleasure that only Aaron Hotchner was able to give you.

He wrapped his lips around your breast, sucking and licking your nipple as you threaded your hands into his hair and pulled it. You bit your lower lip in an attempt to keep at bay the moans and gasps you was struggling to keep quiet.

“Just like that, oh yeah just like that you feel so good Hotch,” you whispered in a gasp, rolling your eyes and head back. His tongue licked your skin, from your breasts, then moving up your collarbone to your neck, kissing and sucking your skin until he left a mark.

Hotchner wasn't one for hickeys, he wasn't one for office sex in the workplace, he wasn't one for quickies, he wasn't one to break the rules that he himself had set but you managed to break down every single part of his barrier, you managed making him lose control in a way that he loved and hated at the same time, you managed to unleash emotions in him that he had never even felt in his life.

You were hurricane.

You were storm.

You were addiction.

And he couldn't get enough of you, never.

“Shit, fuck,” he cursed, biting and licking the skin of your shoulder as his thumb began drawing imaginary circles on your clit making your muscles tense even more and your movements more erratic. You almost had a heart attack from the intense pleasure that flowed through your veins. “God princess you ruin me.”

A breathtaking orgasm hit over you without any other warning like a raging river, making you dizzy and see stars. Your vision went blurry for a few moments, making you even forget you were in your boss' office and someone could actually hear you.

You tried to catch your breath but at that very moment there was a knock on the door, making both you and Hotch freeze in place, his hard dick still inside you. You exchanged a panicked look.

“Just one second.” Aaron had responded after clearing his throat and then continuing talking to you in a whisper, “Get under the desk.”

You nodded and lifted yourself off his legs, which had turned to jelly as you bent down and picked up your panties. You settled under the desk between his legs while he quickly tried to fix his hair and button up his shirt. He stood up and put on his pants, leaving them loose without bringing them up to his hips.

“Come in.”

Your heart was beating so wildly you could hear the pounding in your ears. You stayed paralyzed under the desk, too afraid to even breathe.

The door opened and you recognized Agent Anderson's voice. “I brought the Porters' case report from five days ago Agent Hotchner.”

He nodded, his expression completely serious and professional as he pretended to fill out a file he didn't even remember at the moment.

“Thank you Agent Anderson, leave it on my desk.”

Despite the fear of being discovered, however, you couldn't contain your excitement and the thought of driving him crazy couldn't leave your mind. You placed a hand on his inner thigh, trailing your fingers along his crotch with sensuality.

Aaron almost had a heart attack when you quietly pulled his underwear off enough for his dick to pop out again, still wet and damp from your fluids and you wrapped your hand around it, starting to jerk him off with slow, controlled pace.

“Agent Hotchner there was a thing about this case I wanted to ask you about…” Agent Anderson had asked.

Are you fucking kidding me right now?

Hotch nodded and pointed to the chair in front of his desk, his lips pressed together because he was afraid if he opened them only moans would come out.

Your hand increased its speed and Hotch let out a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair, about to have a heart attack right then and now.

He looked at Anderson, he heard him talking but his brain couldn't process a single word he was saying, too focused on trying to keep a serious expression and not let on that there was a woman under his desk who was masturbating him.

But the final blow came when you wrapped your lips around his dick, taking it all in your mouth and tasting yourself on it. He let out a small moan which immediately covered with a cough, thanking god Anderson was too caught up in whatever he was saying to notice.

His hand reached below the desk and into your hair, pulling it harshly and making you almost moan at the sensation. This caused you to pick up your pace and Hotch didn't know whether to hate you or not at that moment.

He wanted you to stop.

But also for you to keep going because that fucking mouth of yours was pure ecstasy.

“Are you okay, agent Hotchner?” Anderson stopped at a certain point, noticing the way Hotchner continued to move in his chair and the blush on his cheeks.

“Y-yes, I apologize...” Hotch breathed out. “Lord,” he almost let out a groan which he tried to mask with another cough. “I’m not feeling very well these days. C-can…” he stopped again, swallowing another moan. “We’ll talk about t-this tomorrow Anderson. Excuse me.”

You couldn’t help but smirk to yourself, feeling victorious for making the always-so-serious SSA Aaron Hotchner a complete mess.

His thighs started to shake, his fingers still pulling your hair as you licked his dick, leaving a long string of saliva on his tip. You wrapped your lips around him again and a hand around the base, jerking him off while simultaneously taking it in your mouth. Your other hand rested on his thigh, pressing your nails on his hot skin.

Your mouth felt like heaven and it didn't take long for the orgasm to start building again after it was interrupted.

“Oh yes of course, I'm sorry. Get well soon then, g-good night agent Hotchner.” Anderson replied and jumped to his feet before mumbling some more nonsense and exiting the office, closing the door behind him.

Hotch let out a particularly deep sigh and rested his head on the edge of his chair as he continued to mercilessly fuck your mouth.

“You fucking little slut, you really can't help yourself huh?” He groaned, looking back at you. His grip around your hair tightened, forcing your head down and making you gag. “My needy little whore, look at you chocking on my dick… Fuck you’re gonna make me come.”

How could he make such derogatory names so damn sexy?

It didn't take long for Hotch to explode into an intense orgasm inside your mouth, not letting your head go until he watched you swallow every single damn drop of his cum.

He exhaustedly leaned back in his chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he waited for his breathing to calm down.

He took your hands and helped you out from under the desk, letting you sit on his lap and kissing you until taking your breath.

He gave you a sweet little kiss on your forehead, caressing your cheek with a thumb, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “You'll be the death of me sooner or later, agent Y/Ln.”

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[writingmeraki]

here and now.

a kim mingyu drabble !

pairing : secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship ( they are married )

genre : angsty with fluff :)

warnings : reader is pretty miserable, cussing, cheol is mean but annoying mean, petnames, kissing, unhealthy routines.

author's note : ohhh i can't let go of these two, i rlly jst like this au a lot lol, i wonder if you would want more set in this same au, lmk hehe :) hope you like this !! but also the fact that i have other wips but i can't get this specific couple out of my head ???? very self indulgent bcoz tell me why i want this mingyu with me rn. also third work this month...let's hope we keep balling like that!!!

set in the SAME universe as this !

word count : 1.6k

The world was miserable.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and just lay in your bed, sleeping until you could no longer differentiate between reality and dreamland.

But alas, you couldn’t. As an agent, sleep to you was like a reward. One would think a need should never be something you get once in a while but, your job was practically making all your essentials feel like rewards. 

Mayhaps not the healthiest, but you were already used to it and your body as well, so you were not truly affected when you couldn’t get any of your essentials. 

Though, you were sure the world felt more miserable because you hadn’t seen him in so long.

Kim Mingyu, the man you married. Your husband.Your other half, your other puzzle piece, your other- you get the point. Six months, twelve days, and ten hours since you last saw him. 

He was gone on a mission that was supposed to take no less than a month, but who were you kidding? Who was your boss kidding? Top priority missions always took up time. 

The thing that still pisses you off is why you weren’t allowed to go with him. 

Apparently, you were needed back in Seoul and not there was the bullshit reason. You spent enough time being annoyed and angry at that, now you just felt terribly upset. Upset without him in your life physically, sure virtually he was one message away, but being on the complete opposite side of the globe also meant time zones were a pain in the ass.

Sighing, you made your way into the tall building disguised as one of the offices but it was where your agency was. You held a cup of coffee, that was just as bitter as your mood, in fact you didn’t even like coffee, but today you felt no point in trying to uplift your mood because the only thing that would was a certain person who you were not even sure when you’d meet. 

It was not you who felt this way, in fact Mingyu was probably feeling worse. Having been someone whose love language was physical affection, it did not feel the same through a fucking screen. He was ready to quit actually, three months into it because he terribly wanted to see you, but you convinced him he’d be back sooner if he finished it. 

You knew you were lying to him and yourself, but you had no choice. This was your duty right? 

The boss’ office was still as peculiar as he was, never failing to amuse you whenever you’d enter and always finding new collections or items decorating it. Today, you saw an art piece that was of the sun and the moon. 

Everything reminded you of him. He was your sun, even your moon too. 

You frowned more at the thought, wondering how the heck were you not able to not think of him for a few minutes. Then again, perhaps being together for more than a decade would do the trick. You’re practically bound permanently by that point. 

Sitting down on the cushion chair in front of Seungcheol, you didn’t even bother greeting him, still in thoughts until you heard a chuckle from in front of you. 

“What’s funny?”

“You look extra miserable today.” 

You glared at the man, annoyance changing into anger with retorts about how he’d feel if he was kept away from his partner for this long, considering he was someone who was pretty boastful about his partner. 

“But- I did not call you for that. I have a special mission for you. And no, I don’t have any updates on Mingyu.”

You groaned at his words, considering what he said was just getting worse and worse as he spoke. 

“For this though, you’ll have someone with you. You’ll be needing another person to complete this task. They should be arriving in a few minutes.” 

“Please don’t be a rookie, I don’t have the patience to deal with one, not right now.” You figured you couldn’t not do it. It was your job after all. But perhaps he’d be a little considerate. 

“Oh don’t worry, I think they are pretty experienced, maybe even more than you.” He grinned but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what he meant. His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t tell. 

“Just say you hate me, Cheol. It’s easier.” You bitterly spat out, taking a sip of the now cold coffee and frowning in distaste. It seemed it was up to par with your state. 

You leaned back, looking at the watch on your wrist, seeing it’s been a few minutes already and wondering just how long this person would take. 

You tried to pinpoint who it possibly was, but you were never good with names of people you might have seen in passing. That was more of Mingyu’s thing, he always remembered the forgettable things. 

The sound of the door opening was what made you perk up. You sat a little straighter, feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t make it outwardly obvious to the entire population how you were truly feeling. 

Seeing the chair pull, you didn’t bother looking besides you, feeling that seeing them from the corner of your eye was enough. They were a little further from you, but you could tell they were quite…large? They were wearing a cap and a mask, practically their entire body was covered with a black coat. It was suspicious and you just wondered if this was just an excuse for Seungcheol to have you murdered in a discreet way. 

Seokmin…? No, he's almost my height, probably Chan? 

You didn’t even realise the person had taken your coffee, pulled off their mask,took a sip of it and almost spat it out. 

“Baby this is actually so disgusting, since when did you drink this?” 

Wait.

You recognised that voice. 

He kept the cup back down on the table in front of you, wearing that very very familiar ring on his left ring finger. 

You think your brain short circuited at that very moment. 

Now you knew why Seungcheol had a sly grin. 

The fucker planned this. 

In all his glory, Kim Mingyu sat beside you, now seeing no point in wearing the cap, he tossed it off and threw it on the table. He shuffled his hair, which was now longer than you last saw it.

“Missed me?” He had the audacity to say that with his stupid canines peaking out, wearing that stupid grin that made you feel giddy all over and the stupid glint in his eyes that shone as he took you in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid Mingyu for making you feel like throwing up in all mixes of emotions. 

So in the mix of it, you just remained frozen. Eyes blank, nothing on your face physically to indicate any emotion. 

“I’ll leave you two…just don’t do…stuff.” Seungcheol retorted and your hands itched to strangle him. 

Before you could even comprehend you were now alone, you felt your chair being pulled to face him. Your mind still in disbelief and conflict.

“Hi.” He spoke gently, his hands now reaching towards yours and grasping them. It had been way too long since he smelt your signature perfume, held your hands in his with the same intensity, felt your touch. He thinks he might just die in peace now. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if I’m dreaming.” You murmured as you blinked slowly at him, still unmoving even though he now was bent down and closer to you.

The grin on his face widened as he leaned in, and next thing you know, you felt his lips on yours. 

Familiar…just like…home. 

He pulled back, still smiling as he softly laughed, “Real enough, darling?”

Mingyu wasn’t someone who was caught off-guard easily but he was the moment you launched forward and wrapped your arms around him. He yelped as he held you, surprisingly not toppling over.

You didn’t even grasp you were full on sobbing at that point, your entire body shaking and held you even more tightly. He stood up, one arm around your waist and the other gently rubbing your back. 

“I’m here now, I’m here.” He whispered softly as his hand caressed your hair, you moved your arms to wrap them over his shoulder as you placed your head in the crook of his neck. 

“i-i really-” missed you. I felt incomplete without you. I just…I really missed you. I really fucking love you.

You wanted to say as cheesy as it may have sounded, but cheesiness be darned you couldn’t hold back, not when the time apart made you realise that it didn’t matter if it was just another way of showing your love for him. You also realised Kim Mingyu deserved all possible ways of showing your love for him.

“I know, ‘s okay baby, I know.” You only sobbed harder as you pulled back, not caring how you looked, probably a whole mess with red eyes and tears all over, his arms were still around you as you held his face with both hands. 

He was there. You thought as you caressed his cheeks. He was there. You thought as he looked at you like he’d finally found his treasure,eyes twinkling, smiling at you.

And he was there, right there, with you as you tilted your head up, closing your eyes and placing your lips on his. 

Because no matter what or how long, Kim Mingyu would always find his way back to you, his other forever half. 

And oh, you’d make sure he was never apart from you from then on. Not even for a day. 

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌

links : main navi ! | svt masterlist !

[anonymous-dentist]

A Very Long qRoier Theory

Okay so here's what I actually think, and TRUST THE PROCESS OKAY:

I think that Roier really was kidnapped by the Federation, but I don't think that he was taken because he was looking for Cellbit strictly because the Feds themselves are actually more or less actively searching for the missing islanders and hoping for their return so they can continue the murder investigation. Despite the terrible things going on, the Feds legitimately want all their islanders/lab rats back on the island so they can continue with whatever experiment they're holding. Every time Cucurucho has held a meeting recently, it's asked about the status of the missing islanders, so it really wouldn't make sense for it or the Feds as a whole to punish their one single lead in the case when every actual Federation agent assigned to the case has either come up with nothing or disappeared entirely.

Nah, I think Roier was taken because he was vulnerable and because the Feds figured nobody would've missed him. They know that he isn't really super close with anybody on the island but Cellbit, and they know that he's been actively pushing people away for a while now- basically since Bobby's death, and moreso since his return from Purgatory.

Looking at the QSMP channel's streams, particularly Elena's, we know that the Feds seem to be a pharmaceutical company. They, simply speaking, make drugs. Look at the "happy pills" that Elena helped create, this is what the Feds do.

Roier mentioned that he was drugged. He never said that they stopped drugging him. I think he's still being drugged and that he isn't a rat- not a literal one, anyway.

I think that Roier is still under the effects of the drugs he's being given because he is currently a test subject. He's a lab rat.... at the moment, anyway.

More on that later.

Do I have any evidence for this? Not really, but also some things just didn't add up cinematically. Like, okay, go back and watch everything from after when Roier 'wakes up' in the dungeon:

Everything's got this weird otherworldly fuzziness and glow to it. It's almost dreamlike in a way. Only the focus of the world is, well, in focus. The rest is blurred like a bad 3D movie:

There are all these weird cuts and jumps, too, like 11:16 when we suddenly cut to black for a few moments as Roier goes down the hallway, or 12:13 when we smash cut to the rat and 12:16 when we cut to Cucurucho. It's super sudden and jarring and it sets up a real nice feeling of unease (shoutout to ccRoier, this is SPECTACULAR)

And the music, okay, the background music is exactly the kind of shit you'd hear in a 'Dreamcore Music Video' on YouTube. It's super Backrooms, super weird esoteric vibes, and that's very on purpose.

None of this is real, and "Doied" is the final proof because like. He isn't real lol, if he's real then so is Roger, and the only times either of them front are when Roier's goofing around or when he's extremely homicidal (we saw Roger pretty recently, actually, back in October when he said that Cellbit killing everyone might be a good thing, actually.) Doied isn't like Abueloier or Melissa, he's one of Roier's 'alters', and he's a bit of a freak lol

I think about everyone can agree that this whole 'Ratoier' thing is a hallucination, but then we have to think, huh, what the hell does any of this mean?

First, we gotta follow the whole 'Roier is Currently Super Drugged' thing, because he is. He literally is. If he's not, well, laugh at me when the next tape comes out.

Roier is drugged by the Feds right now probably to test a new drug, possibly a drug meant to- just like the Happy Pills- make people happy again. In this case, however, I think that the pills may actually have something to do with memories, particularly the same memory retrieval stuff the Resistance did to Bagi. Because, well.

I want to go back to the rat, and I want to go back to Doied, because this stream actually implied a LOT about qRoier's character.

The thing about Doied is that he's the manifestation of Roier's "Um, actually!" Nerd Emoji self. He's a nerd. He's a loser with glasses and a nasty attitude.

Doied, in the dream, is a scientist. Doied, in the dream, performed horrible, inhumane experiments for the Federation. He put Roier's brain into a rat's, a lab rat's.

Once a long, long time ago in August, Roier quietly came to the realization that maybe he has a past history with the Federation and that's why Osito Bimbo has always been so weird about him- it basically had a crush on him for the first week or so of the island, and it still seems to, and he is still the only one outside of Foolish the Federation Employee to be addressed directly by his train ticket number: 0037. He brought up the possibility of being a Federation worker in the past to Cellbit, who brushed it off and said that he wouldn't care because he's a worker, too, technically, but what if it isn't a possibility?

We've always wondered how Federation workers end up the way they do. Why are they all the exact same type of bear? Why does only Cucurucho get to have a face and a voice? Why do they all have human minds and emotions? Why are they all dedicated to the Federation?

Easy. Because maybe they were people before, just like how Bagi and several other islanders think they are. But maybe someone put their brains inside of an animal's body- or, at least, inside of a worker's body, God only knows if they were actual polar bears at some point. Somebody had to help come up with that technology, and maybe it's the guy who managed to build an entire computer and radio-satellite setup over the span of about a week in his goddamn backyard without anybody knowing about it.

Roier has always had some weird connection with the Federation. He's the only civilian islander to ever be addressed by his ticket number, and later we find out that Foolish's ticket number- 0039- is his Federation Employee ID Number- W0039. He was Osito Bimbo's favorite for the first week on the island to the point of Osito just giving him whatever he wanted. He and Jaiden were paired up for the Egg Event (something that was intentional, btw, admin confirmed), and it's later revealed that Jaiden has a past with the Federation regarding the SMILE Units (aka Osito Bimbo and Cucurucho and the new guys.) The "Gods" (aka the admins) will happily follow him around and revive him when he's alone and strike him with lightning when asked and give him dirt and whatever. He managed to get someone onto the island from off of the island, Abueloier, and Abueloier was saved from the brink of death by the Federation in the Federation's hospital. His literal pet dog is a Federation employee. He got to name Jorgito the IV Drip.

Doied put someone's brain into the body of a rat, and Doied is Roier's nerd self.

I think that Roier may, in fact, have a past history with the Federation, and that it isn't because his grandfather worked/works for them. Maybe Roier did, just like he suspected months ago, and maybe he did some really bad things. But they were excused at the time because the people being converted into workers were bad people who made mistakes. Roier made the mistake of breaking the rules trying to connect with Cellbit, and so he got turned into a rat. There's been a functional prison on the island for long enough for it to be partially abandoned (see: Tazercraft Prison Stream.) Walter Bob was held there, possibly because he was part of the Resistance, or possibly because he wasn't done cooking yet.

Roier has always been a man of justice. When people do bad things, they get punished, and then things can go back to normal. He ruined Quackity's life. He wanted Slime to be properly punished for killing Tilin and he threatened to murder him when he tried threatening the kids. He built an entire torture dungeon in his basement for the explicit purpose of torturing Spreen to the point of death repeatedly and possibly for the rest of Spreen's miserable life. Cucurucho took Bobby away, and Roier said that the Federation would regret putting and keeping him on the island. Pozolito the Capybara blew Cellbit up, and Roier has literally tried killing every Capybara he's seen since. The Federation screwed with his family and with himself, and Roier is more than happy to join Cellbit in massacring the entire Federation.

He's a man of justice, but not of morals. He's a ruthless killer when it comes down to it, and he only shows regret when it comes to his husband's deaths during Purgatory. He doesn't fight unless he has to, but he's been thinking about killing everyone on the island since the first week of the server when he was betrayed. But, when it comes down to it, he doesn't actually want to hurt anyone he cares about. It's why Purgatory fucked him up so much.

His moral alignment actually matches up pretty well with several other Federation workers'- particularly workers like Elena and Fred who are nice but are willing to do terrible things in the name of their cause. The difference here is that Roier has had the same privilege that workers like Walter Bob and Ron got: he got a chance to socialize.

He doesn't have memories from before the island, but he remembers enough about his childhood to be a little suspicious.

But what if these drug-induced hallucinations are actually hints to Roier's backstory? What if it wasn't Doied running all these terrible experiments for the Federation, but it was Roier? Just a guy acting under the belief that he was making the world a better place, punishing criminals (aka rule breakers) while helping the Federation's cause: finding true happiness and spreading it to the world.

The Eye said that everybody in Purgatory was a sinner, and maybe Roier's sin was some mad scientist bullshit.

The dream today, Tape 1, had Roier being punished. Maybe it's because that's what he did as a scientist to new employees, or maybe it's because of his own guilt over everything he's done; remember, the reason he stopped smiling in Purgatory wasn't because he was killing his friends (because he's thought about killing his friends for a VERY long time), but it was because he killed Cellbit, and then it was because he left Cellbit behind to die. That's why the dream specified Cellbit's lost signal and not, say, Jaiden's, and it's why all the cool cinematic landscape shots focused on either Roier himself or Cellbit.

If my prediction is correct, Tape 2 would have Roger instead of Doied. So we'll see what happens then, I guess. Roger, who represents Roier's anger and his various homicidal tendencies.

Fit said that everybody was on the island for a reason, and Roier has been cooking for a long time now. Maybe qRoier is just like qJaiden: a former Federation associate.

TLDR; qRoier is currently hallucinating due to him being a Federation lab rat. His drug-induced dreams may be implying that Roier has a past within the Federation as a scientist completing the same experiments that "Doied" did in the dream to Roier.

But that's just a theory, a Game Theory. Thank you for reading.

[spookypete-94]

Difficult Gratitude

GhoapxFem!Reader

Story I've had in my head for awhile now, and just needed to press it out finally.

Reader is female medic. Takes place during the mission of Soap getting shot. Implied established relationship between Soap and Ghost already. Reader very good friends with Soap, and Ghost still learning how to accept it. More then likely medical inaccuracies. Its fan-fiction after all. Will be a longer read, I didn't want to split it into a series (since in the process of writing one already) so strap yourself in. Trigger warning for smut towards the end. Language used as well. I started this about 345 this afternoon and just finished right around 10 pm, so I hope you like it lol..

MNDI!

Blood. Working with it every day made it seem not as grotesque to you as it used to be. The mass amount of it surrounding Johnny however, made your heart stop and breath hitch. He was lying in a large pool of it. You could smell the iron and wasn't even on top of it yet. Even with your nervous system short circuiting, your legs carried you as fast as you could to him. Sent with a different group of soldiers and TAC agents, you were kicking yourself in the ass for not urging Price for you to go with him and Johnny.

Kneeling over you saw a gunshot wound to his temple.

"Fuck," you hissed out pulling on the straps of his vest trying to get it off.

"He's gone." Ghost grumbled next to, as he had already been kneeling over Johnny. Ignoring him, you continued, laying your head on his chest trying to hear a familiar thump-thump.

Nothing.

You began to cut his t-shirt pulling an AED out of your bag.

"He's gone." Ghost said louder, next to trying to swat your hands away.

"I have to know I fuckin' tried." You snarled up at him matching his tone. Your eyes narrowed and teeth still bared at him. Fully looking feral.

The reaction from you makes Ghost scoot back, allowing you to do as you wished. Sure, you had worked with them for years now, but you've always been cheery and sweet. Sickeningly sweet, Ghost had thought. You wouldn't say you were close with Ghost, but Soap had always tried to make sure you knew you mattered to him. Out of all the unfortunate work you had to do, he was the beacon of light out of it all.

Ghost sat back, looking at Price who had approached finally. As the AED went to work, shocking Soap every so often after your set of chest compressions. Taking the time to start wrapping his head wound while it would scan him again before sending another shocking volt. Ghost finally looked up to Price, a silent plea to make it all stop. He couldn't handle watching his lover's body jolt one more time on the ground. After about 5 minutes total, you felt arms pick you up around the shoulders dragging you away.

"Thatsa' enough," Price grumbled into your ear.

"No!" you yelled, arms and legs flailing. "'M not done yet!"

"You've done all you can." He said arms on your shoulders as you put you back on the ground still holding you back. Looking at you like a father would after they had lost their beloved pet. Your eyes searched Price's as they welled with hot tears. The silence was broken however, as the AED machine made a beeping noise still connected to Soap... A faint noise and a line matched a heartbeat being read.

Pushing Price out of the way, you grumbled to him, a voice now full of gravel as you fought back the tears. "Call for a fuckin' bird." Kneeling back next to Soap, you could feel eyes burning into you. Refusing to look up you knew they belonged to Ghost. But you would be damned to meet him as you prepped Soap to be able to fly. Pulling an IV and a blood bag, you started hooking them in, all while watching the faint green line praying the cadence continued.

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

The flight back was rocky at best. You stayed with Soap, other paramedics now with you helping in all the ways they could. Task Force 141 not too far off as they watched their struggling brother.

A curtain was drawn splitting them off as a vent was used. Your worry came true as you watched the green line grow fainter.

"Losing him," someone said as they began to bag his airway until the vent was ready. You stood next to him at the side ready to start compressions again if needed, until another strong arm pulled you away again.

"Let them, you've done plenty." Gaz said soothingly trying to hold you to his side.

"I'm so fuckin' tired of you guys," you snapped fighting back once more.

"As your Captain you need to step back. Your nerves are shot. Compressions have taken it out of you." Price said pulling you back further away while on the bird. "Sit your ass down." Forcefully he pushed you down as he ran the belts to contain you in your seat. "I know this is hard for you, but you need ta' remember this is hard on all o' us righ' now. The entire medical team is back there, sit your fuckin' ass down." Accent getting thicker as he commanded you to sit still, all while trying to control his anger at your behavior.

And you couldn't help it. You slouched forward on your knees as the tears finally spilled over. "He's my best friend. The best one out of all of you." You said, your tone wanting to inflict pain back at them for pulling you off the resuscitation team. And the part that made you feel guilty was that none of them argued because they couldn't.

"He is," Price said agreeing with you, kneeling at your level, brushing your hair to the side of your face before doing the same motion again. "What will be will be now... You've done more then enough." You held your face in your hands, keeping the sobs at bay, refusing to fall all the way apart at the seams.

Ghost standing back and watching it all, heart in his throat feeling as if it was going to leap out his mouth and to his feet the entire time. Unable to say or do anything.

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

Everything else was a blur once landed. Peeking through your fingers, you watched as Soap was rolled out on the gurney. Ghost not too far away in tow, following the man he loved be rolled away towards the surgery room. Price unbuckled you once they were fully out and in the building. Was he worried you were going to chase after? If he hadn’t forced you to sit and calm down, you'd of been the one rolling the bed itself.

Seeing Gaz's hand reach out you to take it, standing up and letting him pull you into a hug.

"Proud of you." He said squeezing you, thankful you had fought back against Ghost and Price to save his friend.

Finally, you broke off the hug, heading towards the building and the surgical bay. Your footsteps felt heavy, but honestly you walked so quietly. Like if you made a singular noise, God would find you strike you down with lighting for fighting off the Reaper who was supposed to take your friend.

Having to take this walk many times with other patients you knew where to go. And to no shock to you, Ghost sat in the same hallway outside of the surgical bay already. Picking a seat across from him, you sat down and interlocked your fingers together and placed your head within it again. It pounded and hurt, fatigue finally settling in after your adrenaline rush.

Feeling the same sensation of the eyes burning holes into you again, but you refused to look up.

Ghost sat there in turmoil. He wanted to say something, to say anything. His tongue too heavy, as if it was made with the same lead that had struck Soap. Instead, he sat across from you, and searched you for any sort of emotion. Is that sleeping feral beast still in you? Would you snap at him again for trying to stop you? Or was that sickeningly sweet girl back...

Gaz and Price, both joined you both not too long after that. Both quiet.

Your knee now bounced with anxiety.

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

Somehow you had fallen asleep, head rolled back and leaned onto the edge of the chair. Blaming it on the adrenaline dump, you would never have been able to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable position and piece of furniture if you could call it that.

A light squeeze of your knee from Price as the OR DR. came walking through the doors to speak with you all.

"Bullets out and breathing with a vent for the time being." Ears perking up as he told you all. You shifted up higher in your seat, ready to pay full attention and ask questions where needed.

"Is he awake?"

"No, he will be in a medical induced coma for a bit until swelling goes down in his brain. Sleep will be the best method right now, and better pain management."

"Do we have a recovery window?"

A silent shake of his head, "No I'm sorry miss, this was an extremely evasive surgery and time will only tell with this."

"Can we see him?" Ghost asked, standing up ready to follow.

"Yes, you can see him. He won't be able to acknowledge you are there, but part of him will know."

The Dr. turned back to you, arm now on your shoulder.

"You should be proud of yourself. Your efforts are what saved him. No doubt a medal should be given in your honor."

The last statement inflicting rage. "You think I did this for a fucking medal??"

Oh, the feral beast in you was definitely sleeping and not dead. Ghost thought, as Price stepped in-between and you and the Dr. blocking your path from mauling the medical professional.

"Thank you, Dr., We will find him back there." Words rushed as he tried to send the Dr. on his way.

Gaz and Ghost slipped past the doors, waiting on the other side as Price tried to have a calming conversation with you.

"You gotta' keep it together. He just saved Soap." He said trying to comfort that angry monster lashing at its enclosure.

"Did you hear him?? I would give anything for Soap to be bullet free. Didn't do this for honor, I did it because he’s, my friend." you hissed back to Price in an angry whisper.

"I know, I know. Was something a muppet would say, but try to keep it intact yeah? I know what you mean and why you're angry, but none of us thought we would even get this far."

And how you wanted to correct him, none of them thought you would get this far, but you bit your tongue. No need to be spiteful. Soap was still on this side of the earth.

Walking in and seeing Soap in this condition was almost as hard as seeing him in his own blood. His head was fully shaved down, proud mohawk gone. Face was so pale from the loss of blood, but his chest raising and lowering even if it wasn't directly on his own will, made you feel at ease.

All picking a corner of the bed, and pulling up a chair, you sat up at Soap's upper left. You scanned his face for anything but knew that wouldn't come for a while. It stayed like this for a while before Gaz spoke up.

"Remember that time he broke the course record for clearing a building?"

"Was thinking about the time he did it and accidentally stepped in a small trash can and continued with it stuck to his foot." Answered Price laughing lightly, pulling his hat down over his eyes. You all knew he was hiding the descending tears.

"How he always calls us "Goat Heads", across the radio." You said lightly laughing, wiping your face. It was a stupid joke used in the place for "Go Ahead" meaning go with you radio traffic.

"The time he told me he could fix my problems if I took my mask off. How I knew I liked him." Ghost said, his hand running back and forth across Johnny's tenderly. You blinked looking away from the action, feeling as though you should never see something so delicate come from both men.

It continued like this for a while, telling small things that you remembered about Soap that had struck you. Until it was finally late in the night. You rubbed your eyes that were sore and raw from emotions that had racked up throughout the day, almost into the next.

"We should get some sleep. Ghost, I'll have them bring in a cot for you." Price said getting up extending his hand for you to take. Not wanting to be rude you took it, letting him pull you up. You gave Johnny a slight rub to his shoulder. Ghost might have been up and staring at you intimidatingly at you had it not been for the new fresh salty tears that pin pricked your eyes again.

"Night," you finally muttered to them all before stepping out and heading to your room. Your heart panged and beat against its cage. Once in your room, you stripped of your blood covered clothes and lay on the bed, turning and wailing into a pillow. You needed Soap to pull through.

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

Every day you took the time to visit Soap. Spending hours upon hours there with him. Taking in a radio so he could listen to his favorite music, sometimes rotating that to his favorite movies on a tablet. Ghost had come to figure out you knew a lot about Soap. It made him wonder how close you really are, if anything causing a spark of jealousy.

Ghost was angry, wanted to tell you that Soap's quality of life was your fault. Wanted to tell you that because of you, who knew if he would wake up from this coma. The Dr. had advised that they had stopped giving the medication to make him sleep 2 days ago... and he still hadn't woken up. Oh, how he wanted to say it was your fault that he was lying in this bed, unable to speak and move... but the alternative of his Johnny laying in the ground 6 feet deep, still unable to speak or move factures his heart more, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he holds on the small piece of hope that eventually Soap will open his eyes again.

It was hard for Ghost. Day in and day out he had watched as you did Soap's physical therapy. Instead of being out in the field as a working medic, you stayed back as his primary nurse. No one argued with you. Not even when Price left to continue his hunt for Markarov. Price had benched Ghost and you worried your emotions would get the best of both of you. In fact, if Ghost would of said all of those mean, hurtful things about it being your fault Johnny was bed bound, Ghost wondered if the dragon in you would wake again. He hadn't seen it since that day but knew better to question its status of it still being there. It would burn him alive if given the opportunity, and devour him whole. Ghost could feel the anger seep off you sometimes and wondered if you were thinking back to that unfortunate, bloody day. Did you hate him?

He sat in the chair next to the bed watching and listening to you talk to his Johnny. Raising his arm up and down to stretch the muscles so when he did wake, they weren't as stiff.

"I miss you stealing my pudding off my food tray. Wouldn't complain if you swiped it ever again, would just give it to you."

What else would you give him? Ghost thought darkly. There was no doubt that Ghost thought you were in love with Soap. Listening to all the stories you had, sometimes your favorite ones over and over. Now you were over at his right arm, picking it up, setting it back down.

"Thought about the time you were trying to help me pick a dress for the military ball, and said I would never take fashion advice from someone with a mohawk..." You said a whispering laugh afterwards. Honestly that made Ghost smile as well, but he would never tell. Thank God for this mask. The thought washing over and over in his mind.

"Soap?" The way you had said it made Ghost perk up. Looking up finally seeing your face change. It was full of curiosity. Your eyes flashed to Ghost's locking with his telling him something was for sure up.

"Soap, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand again." Ghost watched as the shells to his blue eyes fluttered, trying to open.

"Oh my god, Ghost," you said quietly, extending Soap's hand to him to take.

He took it from you, quickly.

"Johnny?" And he felt it too. A slight squeeze. "Johnny," Ghost cooed to Soap, causing the hand to squeeze over and over. A rhythm. Squeezing Ghost's arm, you slipped past him, running out the door asking for Dr.

Finally, blue eyes faced the world and locked with brown ones.

"Mornin' Si." Johnny croaked out squeezing his hand even harder.

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

Soap's recovery was lengthy to describe at best. The Dr. finally learned the extent of the damage to Johnny's brain from the bullet. Thankfully, most of it was only physical. Soap had to relearn how to walk and only struggled with words periodically. Ghost would work with him on his speech therapy, and you helped him with his physical therapy still.

Soap was persistent spending 2 hours with you every day. Ghost sitting back and playing overwatch, he had to watch the 2 of you interact. Your sweetness fully back. He watched as Soap would place his hands on your hips goofily smiling as you would pull them off and place them on the bars instead of the railing so he could support himself- you know like he should be instead. Something had happened to his Soap. He would lean in and smell your hair affectionally. He never did that before. Ghost knew Johnny still had eyes for him, still loved him. It was one of the things Johnny made Ghost practice saying first. Somehow Ghost couldn't help but wonder if this injury had rewired his brain, or maybe because he had almost died, he wanted all the things he could have out of life. It still hurt him to watch.

Your anger with everyone had mostly died off once Johnny had woken up. Johnny was all the good things out of this job, he was what made it worth it. If he had died, a large piece of you would have been buried with him. Maybe that was your fault for not being as close as you should be with some of the others... putting Ghost into a different light for you now.

Giving it a shot, you asked Johnny about things about him and Ghost. A way to bond and a way to test his memory. Where was their first date, his favorite thing to do with Ghost. And every time, Johnny answered with calling him Simon. He never once called him Ghost because that's how Johnny knew him. In away Ghost got to learn about you, interacting with Johnny, and you got to learn about Ghost. Johnny told you were his best friend because you were fierce and protective. So was Ghost. You stood up for what you believed in... and guess what so did Ghost.

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

"Didya' hear tha news, bonnie?" Johnny asked looking down on you as you helped him to the rails. He could do it on his own, but it was your part in PT to make sure he got there and didn't fall down. Policy.

"No, what news?" Your voice is light, airy, still a stark contrast to Ghost who sat in a chair not too far off.

"Makaraov is bagged and tagged." He said proudly, grinning. "Price and his team got him yesterday afternoon.

"No kiddin'?" Your world spinning off its axis for a moment.

Johnny gave a slight nod, hands bracing your hips again and pulling you into him giving a hug. His head placed on top of yours.

"What a fucking relief," you punctuated out, sighing heavily. The urge to cry hit you again but you fought it off. Instead, finally locking with the brown coals of Ghost's across the room. The first time you felt like he wasn't trying to set you on fire with a glance.

"Cannae hurt us again." He said into your hair.

"Thank God." you said the hot droplets finally falling down your face.

It stayed like this for a moment before you took a step back, hands bracing Johnny while you looked up at him and over at Ghost.

"Got news for you both too." Ghost stood up and approached to better join the conversation.

"I bought a piece of land, bought a tiny house, and I'm stepping out."

"You're leavin'?" Ghost asked crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"I can't do this anymore..." you explained feeling like you were being torn apart underneath a microscope. "What happened to you Johnny, changed me. I don't think I can do the job anymore... I have nightmares still." you admitted. Ghost's body language softening, shoulders rolling down, hands resting next to Johnny's who still gripped the rail. He didn't even think of the mental affect that it had on you too. Another thing you unknowingly had in common.

"Ya' cannae leave..." Johnny said hurt in his voice.

"You still got me, can't get rid of me that easily. I'll stay in contact. And you're doing great, I'd say you'll be fully recovered in no time."

"I'm comin' with ya'. Visit for a bit until I'm fully released."

"Johnny..." your voice light.

"No, yer ma' nurse. Cannae leave me. Si?" He said looking over at Ghost. Johnny knew Ghost would give him the world and never say no.

"Would be nice ta' get outta here, until he's ready to go." Head turning back down to you.

You sighed. "Fine, way to invite yourself, Johnny." You teased, smiling and shaking your head.

The happy blue eyes and toothy grin was worth it... even if you felt like space was being forcefully invaded.

You are glancing over, entranced with Ghost's smoldering brown eyes next.

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

The piece of land you had bought was in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by tall pine trees, a clear vessel of water cut through it. Mountains towered in the back, ironically 4 of them. You had named them Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost. Feeling like it fits all of them somehow. Even though you were stepping away from it all, it was comforting to know you had something like them with you still. The air was crisp and clean, something you have not had in so long. No smell of a medical room, no smell of tar and tang from firearms. No smell of blood.

It was a good change... peaceful. Something you needed. You arrived at your new home first, readying it for your 2 guests. You decided it was best to put them in the master bedroom. A king size bed for 2 large men. How ironic that you bought it for you, and it won't even be used for you on the first night you have access to it. Once that bed was dressed for them, you made the guest bed. Finding the joke funny you were a guest in your home. Honestly, you were excited to have this transition with someone sure... but you knew things were off with you and Ghost. But if Johnny was here it had to be ok. You would make it work.

They arrived before noon. You went out to assist, but Ghost stopped you at the front of the truck. He opened Johnny's door, standing there to help him if he needed it, but Johnny climbed down on his own and teetered out with a cane.

He grinned his notorious smile at you. Large white pearls, blue eyes squinting with glee.

"Look at you," you said proud of him.

"All on my own." he crooned.

Stepping inside, you showed them around your tiny house. Not a whole lot to show them but wanted them to see where they would be sleeping and where the bathroom was less. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the house. Theirs to the right when they walked in and through the kitchen. Yours just to left.

"Pretty close to the door... and far from us." Ghost said in the direction to your room.

"Don't think anyone will be looking or finding us out here."

A light rumble leaving his chest as he looked back down at you. It made your stomach burn. What kind of noise is that?

"If she gets lonely, she can just come join us, Si." Johnny said over his shoulder peeking into your room.

It left you baffled. Sure, there was some touching from Johnny, but you had always brushed it off to how he was altered from his injury.

Your face looking from Johnny, back to Ghost. Staring back at you and not saying anything. Strange behavior.

"Your guy's room will be over here." You said, leading them through the kitchen and into the master.

"Nice size room for a tiny house," Ghost concluded looking around.

"Nice size bed for us too," Johnny said. Not wanting another weird comment, you stepped away for a bit. Grabbing 3 glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

"Why did you get a tiny house?" Ghost asked, "All this land, coulda had a big ol’ house."

"Always just pictured it as me. Don't need a lot of space."

Again, Ghost stood leaning against the door frame realizing you were more alike than you thought. You plan on being alone... just like he had until he met Johnny.

You watched an arm of Johnny's sneak around Ghost's waist, and you once more diverted your eyes. Did physical touch really bother you all that much? He wondered.

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

The night eased its way in. You spent most of the day still trying to get settled into your new home. You all were outside now underneath the stary sky.

For dinner you grilled steaks with an assortment of vegetables and mashed potatoes.

"Bett'r cook then yer' a medic." Johnny said in-between bites. "An' 'ats sayin' sumthin."

"Don't talk with yer mouth full." Ghost scolded. He had taken off his mask earlier in the day. You had seen him without it before, but it was hard not to look at him. His angled jaw, a broken nose from who knows when or what, a scar that runs over his mouth... but he was beautiful to you. It was your turn to burn holes in him.

He knew you were looking at him but took a page out of your book refusing to meet your eyes, trying to let you feel comfortable with him... for Johnny's sake.

Johnny started talking to Ghost about what they could do during their visit, leaving you to get up and take the dishes inside. Stealing a moment for yourself, you ran hot water and washed the dishes. You heard the door open, but knowing it was one of them you continued.

It wasn't until a large hand brushed your hair to the side exposing your neck. That was what made you turn around to look but was stopped feeling 2 arms pin you against the sink before pushing you back into it, leaving you stationary. Lowering their head down to the side of yours watching your shirt get tugged to the side exposing a shoulder. A warm kiss graced your shoulder before their mouth came back up to the side of your ear.

"I've never thanked you for it all," Ghost's voice rumbled in your ear, making you look up and out the window seeing Johnny at the table looking up at the stars. Your heart jumped and fluttered. Any much longer you were going to need the same AFib you had saved Johnny with.

"I'm grateful for you and all that ya've done. He loves you... And think I'm startin' to."

Thump-thump was what you were looking for Johnny's chest about 3 months ago. If someone were to stop and listen to yours it would sound like a double drum. He kissed your neck, before pulling your shirt back up on your shoulder and giving your shoulder a slight squeeze.

You didn't look back up at him as he slipped back outside sitting next to Johnny wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Standing there dumbfounded for a minute, you grabbed 3 new fresh glasses and a tumbler of good whiskey for the occasion, not sure if you were going to be brave enough to step outside. So, you took a couple shots from it yourself to make sure you would have the courage to join them again

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

It was here you found yourself laid bare in front of them in the warmth of the fire.

Johnny made the first move, pulling you into his lap after his 2nd glass of whiskey not being able to drink from his injury making him more brazen from the amber liquid. His hands had worked their way into your pants leaving you a squirming mess, Ghost sitting now turned facing you.

It made you uncomfortable, his eyes the same color of the whiskey you noticed. His hand leaning against his fist, face unreadable as he watched.

"Relax Bonnnnn," Johnny purred into your ear. "We've already spoke abou' this." 3 fingers of his rubbing against you through your panties. "Both wan' this. Both wan' you. Least we can do ta thank ya'." Making your body at ease.

"Both want this?" You asked, head turning against his.

"Mmmmm." Ghost rumbled. There's that fucking noise again you thought still not sure how to take it.

"We do." Johnny said still whispering into you, his other hand pulling your pants down.

Ghost leaned down, tugging them down further helping them off your legs and over your feet. Instead of taking your panties down, he kneeled in further, tonging you over your cunt. A large gasp leaving you, the sensation still overwhelming. Johnny removed his hands from there moving up your shirt where he slipped under your bra, lightly pinching your nipples. Friction makes you roll yourself against them. Ghost had picked up either of your legs, placing them on either side of his head and neck. Not even bothering to take your panties off, he impulsively pushed them to the side holding them with a finger. His tongue slipped past your folds and rubbed up through you making your gasp shriller this time.

“Ghost,” you hissed out.

“Call ‘im Simon, Love,” Johnny said rubbing your nipples again, making a whimper leave you.

Simon did the same thing, hoping for a different outcome from your mouth, and you called out to him. “Simon…” Fingers slipping into his strands of dark blonde hair.

“There ya’ go.”

Simon made you ride his face while you were sitting down essentially. Making your hips grind up into his mouth where he greedily licked through you over and over. Once he decided you were wet enough, he slipped one of his large fingers in you, leaning back up to watch you. Your head was rolled up onto Johnny’s shoulder. Johnny having slipped your shirt up along with your bra, leaving your chest exposed.

“Oh, pretty girl,” he grumbled slipping in another finger, your head now rolling up further to look at him. The fire only made his eyes burn more. “Savin’ the love of my life pretty girl. Realizing how stupid I was…” he said pumping his fingers a few times before slipping in a 3rd.

“Siiiimon,” you whined squirming harder. Simon leaned forward, kissing you, before breaking it off quickly. Looking up he said to Johnny, “She’s ready, you ready?”

Johnny nodded vigorously. Simon gently helped you off his lap and onto the picnic table, pushing you back softly so your back was against it, turning you so your legs dangled off the side without a bench.

He leant down over you again, kissing you once more. It was just as much tongue as he had used on your cunt, still hungry. His fingers lifted your shirt up over your head and behind you on the table. He took his off as well and placed it under yours. You realized he was saving you from getting splinters off the table.

While he pulled back, you stopped him, hand behind his neck. Your movement confused him until he realized you stopped him so you could kiss him this time.

“Oh bonnie,” Johnny said finally unbuckling his pants and pulling out his cock stroking it a few times.

“Makin’ this hard love, want him to go first so he properly thanks ya’… then you go and have to do something like that,” Simon says dry humping into you. The friction is almost too much at first making you groan.

“Get in there Johnny,” Simon said stepping aside, allowing him through and have access to between your legs. He was slow at first a little wobbly, this something he hasn’t done for awhile clearly. You used your legs and wrapped around his waist, helping him to align with you before pushing in. It made your head roll back, your hair bunching up behind your head, a loud filthy moan leaving your lips.

“Yeah,” Johnny said moving out and back in. Looking down, you saw Simon’s hands holding his waist giving him assistance in fucking you.

The sight was definitely alluring and attractive to you. Simon helping Johnny. Maybe this is what it was like for Simon watching you help Johnny, and you had it wrong the whole time. Maybe he wasn’t jealous… he was envious. It didn’t take long for you to come. Your legs gripping on Johnny trying to slow him, but he just pushed into you harder and faster. Simon holding his core. Your warm walls finally squeezing him and slowing him down. Your cunt fluttering so hard, all you could do was constrict on to him.

“Jesus,” Johnny hissed out finally leaning forward laying on your abdomen for a bit. Your hands rested on his shoulders smoothing out his hair, letting him lax on to you while he caught his breath.

Simon stood behind him before finally helping Johnny sit next to you on one of the benches at the table.

“My turn,” he said standing back up and taking position over you. His fuck wasn’t like Johnny’s, it was rough. Instantly ramming into you over and over, lifting your legs up to his shoulders again using his raw power. Something Johnny would have to work up to. Johnny leaned forward kissing you, talking you through it.

“Such a good girl, takin’ it so well, lass,” again tweaking a nipple and holding a breast as they bounced from Simon's pounding.

This went on for a while, and even then, Simon wasn’t done. He turned you over and propped you up on your knees, thrusting into you from behind, watching you come undone on him this time. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him in a way that didn’t feel human… but it sure curbed that feral dragon in you. And that’s all he wanted.

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

Simon carried you inside and into the master bedroom before going out to help Johnny in. He had pulled the blankets back and set you inside them. You pulled the blankets back on the other side, making room for Johnny. Simon had an arm under him helping him walk into your bed. Simon then slipped in behind you, arm over your waist as he pulled you back into him.

Johnny rolled over to his side sandwiching you between him and Simon, hand in your hair stroking it.

“Did well, bonnie, good physical therapy,” he joked, thumb stroking your cheek.

You gave a small laugh, laughing harder once you realized you were in your bed tonight and not a guest in your home in the other room.

“Gonna need something bigger than a tiny house,” Simon matched back “gonna have little ones before too long.” His hand already over your womb, mouth on your neck again already.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[morgana-larkin]

Hello, Idk if u're still taking prompts bc it's seems like you're working on a lot of it, but here's a rather, crazy prompt I have in mind (again) afkajdksjsj.

There's a teacher at Abbott for over a year who's somewhat a little private about her life. Particularly her love life which the Abbott staff seemed to have taken an interest of specially Melissa, who's being defensive when she's called out for being too nosey about the teacher, saying she barely knows a thing about her and it's suspicious that maybe she's actually a cop or secret agent lol. Talks of where's the next venue of game night been going around and the group decided [without the teacher even knowing] that the game night would be held at her rather, fancy house to the surprise of the staff, thinking they would see a glimpse of her priv life and finally meet her partner which is apparently non-existent and later on revealed she never had any relationship in the years of her existence, which also, surprised the group yet Melissa unintentionally let a rather loud sigh of relief and the staff and the teacher gave her a questioning look which she became defensive,again, and a stammering flustered mess under the teacher's gaze.

This was so fun to write. I think I steered a little off a bit but still stuck to what you wanted…(hopefully). I tried to make it light, fun and as cute as possible. As always not edited at all and I hope you like it!

On another note: I know I spelled Chessy’s name wrong, my phone autocorrected me and didn’t notice until I posted it. I thought no one would notice until someone messaged me anonymously about it. So I went back and corrected it. I got one more Melissa prompt and two Chessy ones, and I have started on chapter 8 of ‘Worth It’.

The Game of Love

Warnings: reader has a nightmare(small part near the end), I think that’s all…

Words: 3.3k

You walked into the break room after bringing your students to the cafeteria and headed straight for the coffee machine. You’re exhausted after the morning with your kindergarteners.

“Dear, you don’t look good. Rough morning?” Barb asks you and you chuckle.

“Ya I guess you could say that. I don’t know how you do it Barb. Keep them in line all the time, mine were acting like they had sugar all morning.” You tell her with a huff.

“You’re still quite new dear. I’ve been doing this for over 20 years. You just became a teacher 5 years ago and it’s your second year here.” She says calmly, and always the voice of reason.

“I suppose.” You tell her. You grab your coffee and your lunch from the fridge and then go to sit on the couch.

“Y/n, why don’t you sit with us today?” Janine pipes up and you look at her. You know that she wants to ask questions about your life to get to know you since you don’t tell them much. All you’ve mentioned is that you’ve been living in Philly since you were born, your parents are both lawyers, you have a girlfriend, and you got your teaching certificate 5 years ago. In reality you don’t actually have a girlfriend, you just tell people that since you’ve had many friends try to set you up with a woman and it never goes well.

“Um, ok I guess I could today.” You tell her and head over to sit with the trio. You want to open up a bit more to them. With both of your parents being lawyers, you learned to keep a lot to yourself.

“So how have you been? How’s Amelia?” Janine asks as soon as you sat down. Amelia is the name of your made up girlfriend and said you’ve been with her for 2 years.

“I’ve been good, Amelia as well.” You tell her. “How have you guys been?” You ask her and Janine and Jacob both go and rattle on about their day. While looking at Janine talk, you catch Melissa giving you a look. When Janine stops talking, that’s when Melissa chimes in.

“Hey kid, you never say anything about yourself, why’s that?” Melissa questions you.

“I just don’t talk about myself much, that’s all.” You respond back.

“Why? Why are you so secretive?” She pushes.

“I’m not secretive, there’s just nothing interesting about me.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes at you. “Why are you being nosy?” You ask her and she lefts out a huff.

“I’m not being nosy. It’s just, tell us something, like what do you and your girlfriend do on the weekend or something.” She tells you and you quirk an eyebrow at her. “If you don’t say anything, how do we know you’re not a cop or a secret agent or something like that.” She says to defend herself.

“Well I’m not either one, if you want I can show you my certificate and you can see it’s not forged. But you know both my parents are lawyers so I guess I learned to keep stuff to myself.” You say with a shrug.

“Alright.” She says.

“But to answer your question, Amelia and I don’t do much on the weekends. We’re more home bodies.” You tell her and she smiles at you and you blush a bit.

You excuse yourself early, stating you have to get your classroom ready for crafts, and the trio is talking about where game night is gonna be tomorrow night and Ava comes in to get a coffee.

“Why don’t we have it at y/n’s place?” Melissa says and they look at her.

“Wait, are you coming to game night? Cause you didn’t say either way.” Janine asks her and she shrugs.

“I never know what my plans are on Saturday nights.” She says.

“Did you just voluntold y/n’s place?” Jacob asks and Melissa smirks.

“Yep. We can surprise her.” Melissa says slyly.

“We have no idea where she lives.” Janine says.

“I do!” Ava pipes up and everyone looks at her. “What? It was on her application.” Ava says and pours a bunch of sugar in her coffee. Ava says your address and they all have their mouth open in shock.

“She lives there? That’s a fancy neighbourhood! How does she afford that?” Janine gasps.

“I bet her parents bought it for her.” Melissa says and crosses her arms.

“That would explain it.” Gregory says. “We can’t just show up at her place unexpectedly. We don’t even know if she’ll be home or let us in.” He adds.

“She just said she doesn’t go out on the weekends. And she might let us in, and if she does then we can learn more about her. You can tell a lot about a person from seeing their house. Why do you think I never let youse people over to mine?” Melissa says and they all nod in agreement.

“I’m sure she’ll let us in if Melissa was there.” Barb says with a knowing smile. Melissa whips her head around to face Barb

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She questions, confused.

“Barb you’re coming too?” Jacob asks. And Barb nods.

“My Saturday night is free.” She says, Jacob and Janine grinning. Both of them have never showed up to game night before, so the fact that they are now is exciting to the younger teachers.

“OMG, I don’t even know what game I should bring over now. Ava are you coming?” Janine says with a smile.

“Of course not, unlike you nerds, I actually have plans on Saturday night.” Ava says and walks out.

“So there’ll be 6 of us then.” Janine says.

“Oh we can always have a game that requires teams since it’s an even number.” Jacob states.

“Do you guys have a preference for a game?” Janine asks Melissa and Barb.

“A family friendly game. I don’t want to play one of those games with a bunch of sex questions and sex jokes.” Barb says.

“But those are the best ones.” Melissa says. “The less PG the better.”

“Oh how about the game of life?” Janine says. “But we can play as teams. So like you still have your own car and career, but combine income and losses.” They all agree on that and then they all leave to get their students to finish the day.

You are outside of your classroom helping your kindergarteners zip up sweaters and tie shoelaces. One of your students gives you a hug goodbye and you hug them back and tell them to have a good weekend. Unknown to you, Melissa is watching you from her door frame with a smile and soft eyes. Her class is across the hall and one classroom over so it’s pretty close and she has a perfect view to watch without getting caught. Or so she thought at least, she did get caught but not by you, but by everyone else.

The next day, you’re on your couch and wondering what to watch when the doorbell rings. You get to your door and open it and see Janine, Jacob, Gregory and Barb there there with a smile.

“Hello???” You ask them.

“Hi! We thought it would be fun to have game night at your place.” Janine says excitedly. “I brought the game of life.” And you look to see the game in her hands.

You were about to question them more as to why they chose your place without telling or asking you, you open your mouth to speak but then you see Melissa coming up to your door.

“Melissa, you’re here too?” You ask her and she smiles.

“Yep, can we come in?” She asks you and of course you can’t deny her.

“Ya come on in guys.” You say and step to the side to let them all in.

They all walk in and look around your place in awe. “How do you live in a place this big?” Jacob says and you shrug.

“My parents offered to buy me a place when I told them I wanted to be a teacher.” You say with a chuckle. “I declined at first but then the roommate I had drove me to almost wanting to stab him, so I accepted their offer so I don’t commit a murder.” You say and Melissa giggles at that. In reality everyone laughed, but the one you only really notice is Melissa.

“So where’s this girlfriend of yours?” Jacob says and you got so entranced by Melissa that your brain wasn’t processing properly.

“Girlfriend?” You ask him and they all give you a weird look.

“Ya, Amelia?” He says confused. And you suddenly remembered, although with the look they all have, you doubt they’ll believe you with whatever you say.

“I don’t see any pictures of you with another girl around here.” Melissa points out, looking at all your pictures on the wall.

“Alright, I don’t actually have one. I made her up, my friends kept trying to set me up with women and they kept not really going well so I made up a lie.” You say and Melissa lets out a loud sigh of relief and everyone turns to look at her. Melissa’s cheeks turn pink at being heard and put on the spot. “Something you want to say Melissa?” You ask her with a quirked brow.

“Um uh…n-no not really.” She stuttered out and everyone gives a confused look to each other. Barb decides to save Melissa in that moment as Melissa is unable to speak properly.

“Why don’t we go and set up the game?” She says and everyone agrees. You go to your living room and they set it up on the coffee table.

“I have some food I can put out for snacks, I’ll just go get it. Melissa, do you mind helping me?” You ask her and she turns to look at you.

“Uh , ya sure of course!” Melissa says and scrambles to her feet.

There was 2 reasons you asked her for help, you could have asked anyone but you wanted to be closer to her and show her your kitchen. You know from being in an Italian family, she loves cooking and would probably be in awe of your kitchen. And she was, as soon as you both entered, her eyes went wide and mouth open.

“You have an amazing kitchen.” She says and you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“You must love cooking in it.” She says and you chuckle.

“I actually don’t cook much. I don’t always like doing it.” You tell her and she looks almost offended.

“What? But this kitchen looks like it’s made to be used a lot, to be used to do so much cooking and baking. I mean I would if I lived here.” She says and she set up a perfect opportunity for you.

You get a bunch of chip bags and some dips and place them on the counter. “Well you could always come over and use it as much as you like.” You tell her and her eyes go wide.

“Really?”

“Ya, if you want. I don’t mind.” You say and she smiles.

“I might take you up on that.” She says and you smile at her. “I think you just want to have some of my cooking.” She teases you and you giggle. You have had some of her cooking a couple times over the 14 months you’ve been at Abbott.

“Well I will admit that I love your cooking but you could come and use the kitchen and I don’t need anything in return.” You tell her and she laughs.

She helps you carry all the chips and dips out into the living room.

“Alright, here’s a variety of chips and dips.” You tell them and they all smile.

You then get into teams of two. You expect for Melissa to pair with Barb and for you to end up with Janine or Jacob. Unexpectedly, Barb asks Jacob to team up, and Janine asks Gregory. Melissa gives a look to Barb and Barb just grins at her. Melissa then looks to you.

“Wanna partner up with me.” She asks and you laugh.

“Well thank you for asking, even if there wasn’t any other choice.” You joke with her and she smiles. “I would love to team up with you.” You add and she grins and blushes a bit.

Unknown to both of you, everyone planned this, for you two to team up together and so they all picked someone to team up with before you guys got a chance.

You all pick out a car to use and whether to go straight to a career or college. Jacob and Barb both pick career right away and everyone else picks college and gets debt.

“Oh look at that, I can be either a teacher or a Doctor.” You say and everyone laughs. “I feel I might be a hypocrite if I don’t pick a teacher.” You say and pick teacher and then a salary. Melissa gets super excited and is able to pick firefighter.

“OH HELL YES!” She says as she picks firefighter immediately.

“What was your other choice?” You ask and she looks.

“Uh, accountant.” She says and looks confused at that and you laugh.

Everyone is having fun playing, there’s laughs, cheering and eating. The more the night goes on, the more touchy Melissa gets with you. Now she knows that you’re actually single, she takes the opportunity to flirt with you. She side hugs you when she’s happy with a victory, and sometimes she leaves her arm there for a bit, even after her turn is done. She’s placed a hand on your leg a few times, and everytime she does that, you blush. She rubs your arm when you experience a loss, like paying for the kids for something. “Damn demanding kids. How do we have 4 of them” You say with a pout and she laughs at that. You guys got the most kids and you picked 2 girls and 2 boys, the boys being twins.

You all end up playing again with the same teams but the rule being you can’t pick the same career. Everyone that picked college last time ends up picking career path just to switch it up a bit, while Barb and Jacob pick college.

This time while playing, Melissa has her arm around your waist for half the game and the other half on your thigh. You swear that life is testing you tonight. You and Melissa end up winning both times and Melissa grins at that. After the second time, you all end up watching a movie. The group ends up picking a horror movie, despite your reluctance since you get scared easily.

Everyone is sitting on either your couch or your 2 love seats. Barb and Jacob are spread out on your couch, while Janine and Gregory are on one of the love seats. So you and Melissa take the other seat. Barb and Jacob each use a blanket, Janine and Gregory share one, while you and Melissa also share a blanket.

Since your kids were so hyper today, you were more tired than usual and you were comfy leaning on Melissa a bit. Melissa has the one arm that’s closest to you, propped up on the back of the seat, with the other one on your thigh and her body is turned to you a bit. You end up getting scared pretty early on and accidentally go to hug Melissa during a jump scare. Melissa stops breathing for a second before she puts an arm around you protectively. “It’s alright, you’re safe, I got you.” She tells you and she smiles. Everyone pretends to not notice what happened and hide a grin.

Everyone then decides to leave but since Melissa had a few glasses of wine, so you offer to let her sleep in your spare room so she doesn’t drive home drunk.

Melissa ends up hearing you scream when you awake from a nightmare and she goes over and knocks on your door.

“Y/n, it’s Melissa. I heard you screaming so I thought I’d come to check if you were ok.”

You get out of bed and go and open your bedroom door. “I’m alright, I just had a nightmare. I knew I shouldn’t have watched the movie with you guys. I’ll be too afraid to sleep now, I guess it’s good that tomorrow is Sunday.” You tell her with a small chuckle.

“Oh I’m sorry hun.” She tells you as she leans against the door frame.

“It’s alright, maybe I’ll just watch something on my phone, maybe some stand up and fall asleep again.” You tell her and she looks at you then an idea pops up in her head.

“What if I slept with you?” She says and you look at her with wide eyes and her face mirrors that when she realises how that sounds. “I-I meant in the same bed and sleep… actual sleep not sex.” She defends and you giggle. In your tired state and full of adrenaline from the nightmare, you blurt out something before your brain has time to stop you.

“I wouldn’t say no to either one of those.” You say and she looks at you surprised.

“Really?” She tells you and that’s when it hits you what you said and a huge and noticeable blush makes it on your cheeks.

“Umm, I mean , I… I-I have no idea what I mean actually.” You say and put your hand over your eyes in embarrassment. Melissa takes the hand off your face then looks at you.

“Do you like me? As in a crush.” She asks and you nod, too embarrassed to speak. As soon as you nod, she has a big smile. “Really?” And you nod again. Melissa gets really excited and kisses you. You kiss her back and you both think that it’s wonderful, you both enjoy the kiss but then Melissa pulls back when she realises she didn’t admit her own feelings, verbally anyway. “I like you too.” She says with a huge smile and a sparkle in her eyes.

You giggle at that. “I figured by the kiss.” You tell her and she smiles warmly at you. “I would love the company in my bed to try and sleep, if you’re still offering.” You tell her and she nods.

“Of course. If you want we could cuddle. I was rather enjoying that on the couch.” She tells you and you agree. You cuddle in your bed and you manage to fall asleep wrapped in her arms and a smile on your face, and your nightmares didn’t come back that night.

On Monday morning you come into the break room and get a coffee as usual. You go and sit on the couch next to Melissa to watch the news. She looks at you and smiles and you smile back at her. Everyone is looking at you guys curiously then you see Melissa looking at you with a mischievous expression. She wraps a hand behind your head and pulls you in for a kiss, you kiss her back and hear gasps from everyone. Melissa pulls back after a few seconds and you see everyone grinning.

“Well it’s about time you two.” Barb says. “I’m glad our plan to make you team up worked.” And you both look over at her with a quirked eyebrow.

“You guys planned that?” Melissa says and you smile and lean on her shoulder while she wraps an arm around your waist, still questioning everyone.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

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@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

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If you want to be added then let me know!

[rustys-lodge]

hi love, can i request a Shelby sister fic where she’s kind of like sandie (last night in soho) where she dreams of making it big as a showgirl and she meets a man who promises her the world kind of like a pimp. she gets caught up in that showgirl life and her brothers do everything to stop her and she like loses it basically the plot of last night in Soho pretty much (re writing it cause i keep checking!)

Warnings : physical violence, prostitution, blood, murder, basically all the stuff that goes on in the movie.

A/N : i wrote half of this in class lol, i wish i could have posted it when you sent the request again but i had lots of homework. Anyways, i hope i didn't dissapoint. ❤❣

------

"Close your eyes."

You can't. they're going to be looking back.

"Y/n, close your eyes!"

You can't.

"I said, close your fuckin' eyes."

"I fucking can't." You hurl the words out of your mouth like a rabid dog's bark.

You can't close your eyes. All you see is their faces. The faces of the men that used your silence for their own selfish pleasures. You couldn't close your eyes because all you could see was their slashed faces, more specifically, the blood gushing out, their irises wide, your own disgusting reflection firing in their terrified eyes and those tears that never seemed to dry.

---

A few days ago, you were at your last straw, you were fighting that urge, that last one, the one that needed to go the most.

You hurried up the stairs, the soles of your feet stinging with every step you took. your hand took ahold of the handle, enhancing your balance and so, propelling you forward,helping you gain a few more crucial seconds, you hurried to the room, shutting the door closed just in time for him to get to you. You locked the door and pressed your back against it.

A loud bang vibrated the door you were leaning against. Startled, your heart thudded every time his fist collided with the wood.

Another bang sounded...And another one.... relentless and eager to get you to die. Your body shook to your core and you squeezed your eyes tight, the blue and the red lighting of the bistro still seeping through your shut eyelids.

You needed an escape. You needed to-

"Open this fucking door, you whore. You know you did this to yourself, now open this fucking door."

You needed to kill him. That's it.

You marched to the bed, tucking your hand under the pillow to retrieve the knife you so long hid under there. Your little protector. Your fingers tightly squeezed the handle and you walked back to the door, your hand eagerly pushing the handle down.

That's it. I'm doing it. I'm killing him.

As the door frame swung open, your agent, Jack, stood at the door, only his silhouette was apparent, his head was cocked to the side, he stared at you. Although his eyes were shadowed by his propelled brow ridge, you knew that he was staring. because you knew him. And you held the knife even closer to you. And you would've used it, if he hadn't barked at your face.

"You know you deserve it, slut."

You froze at the comment, not that it's the first time you heard it, it's the shock that comes with it every time, the sudden realization of your current situation, where you'd gotten and where you w-

A sudden ache etched from your jaw when Jack's palm violently made contact with it, snapping you out of your thoughts and sending you backwards, with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

You were more than ready to fight. but you needed not to die first.

You shifted away as Jack stormed over to you, bending down swiftly take ahold of your footbut your good reflexes were even faster, you kicked him backwards, hard. Hard enough to have him staggering.

"Stop it, slut." Jack's hand swung again, grabbing your ankle, hindering you from kicking again.

"Leave. Me. Alone." Your hand scrambled around for the knife that fell from your hand earlier but you got interrupted when jack's body suddenly jolted forward, crashing over your own body, squeezing the air in your lungs shut.

"I got him."

A voice that sounded like a divine presence spoke and you recognized it right away, hoarse and angry. You just couldn't bel-believ-believe....Or brea-breathe..

As the man's doubled weight got lifted off of you, you drew the deepest breath in, still unable to process or comprehend what had just happened.

"It's okay, sweetheart, we're here now."

Your eyes followed the voice, and figures of the Shelby brothers seemed to stand by the door, like angels guarding god's little creatures. One of them, Tommy, who reached his hand out for you. But still frozen, you didn't take it.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone." As you were unresponsive, He scooped you up from the ground you laid on.

"It's okay, honey, he's gone."

From the corner of your blurred eyes, you saw Jack's cadaver being kicked and spat on. You'd smile. But your jaw was too numb.

"It's ok-"

--

"it's okay, Sweetheart."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you turn the other way, facing away from him.

A very frustrated sigh leaves his lips. He's still calm, though. "I told you i won't let anything like this ever happen to you again, sweetheart. I'm here now."

A second later the bed frame roars and Tommy is hugging you from the back;

For a very quick second you're about to startle, but Tommy proceeds by softly whispering into your ear first, "It's okay. It's just me." His arm envelops your chest, sending the warmth of his body vibrating into yours.

"I see them too. They may not be the same people but i see them too. Im here.".

-----

Hello, yall, i will be changing accounts soon. I'm going to start writing on the other one, if yall have any requests, please go on that one. ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀

[obsolescent]

Happy Birthday, Leon

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: As Leon’s assistant, you help keep everything organized for him. One day while arranging some papers on Leon’s desk, you stumble across his birthday. Noticing that it’s only a few weeks away, you begin to prepare a surprise celebration for him, unbeknownst to you how Leon feels about said day.

Author’s Notes: Hey! This was not planned, but I was like oh, wow, the day I headcannon as Leon’s birthday is April 1st…Should I? And so I did lol. This follows a few HCs I have for Leon! I couldn’t sleep anyways and needed something to take my mind off some real life issues occurring, hope you enjoy! (I cut it close with this one lol).

Content Warnings: Angst, mention of losing parents, grief, gender neutral language used for reader, Leon and the reader have ties to the southern United States, fluff, Leon healing his inner child.

Without you around, Leon would surely be running around like a chicken with its head cut off. 

You think about that metaphor and grimace, realizing how dark it actually is. With a shake, you rid your mind of it and resume your task. Leon had to abruptly leave for an important meeting that was called at the last minute. You could hear him bitching about it the whole time while scrambling for the necessary papers for said meeting, and Leon had left his office in complete shambles.

Your smaller office was connected to his, ‘yeah, an office, if you could call it a room even, more like a shoebox,’ and after throwing the door into the wall with a BANG and a rushed “Meeting, be back whenever,” Leon was gone. After settling your heart rate back to its regular rhythm, you had gotten up and checked the wall for any doorknob shaped dents.

Praying to the Lord that the doorstop still does its job after the one thousandth time of being repeatedly smacked, you glanced into his office and stopped. Typically, about once a month you like to help Leon out with his space, straightening things up for him, but this…

‘I don’t know how this man works like this…I can only imagine what his house is like.’

Back in the present and at the task at hand, you start with the papers thrown about the floor, gathering them together. You begin to sort them by the date, noticing that some even have footprints on them! ‘This man…’ you groan, trying to dust the sheets off, only succeeding in smudging the dirt further.

Stacking the documents off to the side, you begin clearing off the top of Leon’s desk, grabbing dirty mugs with old coffee in them and pouring them out in the sink in the kitchenette. You carry a roll of paper towels, disinfectant spray, and a duster back to his office.

Dusting what little trinkets he had on his desk, you run it over his desktop computer and its keyboard. Trying not to apply too much pressure when you start going over the keys, you manage to bump into the mouse, waking the computer from its sleep.

Glancing at the screen, you notice it didn’t lock. ‘He’s like a secret agent or something, right? Why does he not have this locked? Or…Could it be that he doesn't know how to?” You think back on how God awful he is at working any device, having to sometimes ask multiple times a day for help. You let out a puff of air and grin, already thinking about how you’re going to bring it up once he’s back.

Though, something catches your eye on the screen. His personnel file is pulled up.

He isn’t really secretive about his background, more like you never have an opportunity to ask about it. Leon’s mentioned friends and some semblance of a family, and if you try hard enough you can still make out a southern drawl on the tailend of some of his words.

A small peek wouldn’t hurt. 

You bend over, face just a few inches away from the screen, and begin scanning, finding the first one you’re looking for.

‘The southern lilt makes sense now!’ 

Seeing that he comes from a small town, a smile forms on your face, thinking about the stories he could possibly tell you about it, the yapper he is. You store the location into your brain, planning to do your own research later. 

The next one that catches your eye is his date of birth. ‘April Fool’s Day? Oh, poor guy probably got so much shit for that in school. I bet his parents had a hard time convincing their family that he was actually born that day and it wasn’t a prank. Also an Aries, fitting for him’ 

You laugh at your thoughts but freeze, your gaze moving to the small calendar propper up on his desk. 

‘That’s in 3 weeks! Why didn’t he say anything?’

He may not care about it much? Some people, as they get older, don’t hold as much emphasis on things like that. Regardless, you’ll do something for him, it’ll be small and simple, but hopefully it’ll open him up for more discussions about his past, or at least put one of those rare smiles on his face.

You finish cleaning up his office and put away the supplies, brainstorming ideas for the rest of the day.

-

As his birthday gets closer, you sneak in decorations a little at a time, not wanting him to catch onto what you’re planning. The night before the big day, you tell Leon you’ll be staying later to catch up on some paperwork. None the wiser, he nods, going back to his computer screen.

Once he’s left for the day, your plan is set into motion.

You pull out the items stashed in the back of your desk’s drawers, starting with a banner, each letter a different color painted on burlap, spelling out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”. You tape it to the front of his desk, then move on to the kitchenette. You pull out a tablecover, white with polka dots the same color as the letters on the banner. You set two party hats down on the table, laying out the candles you’ll be putting in his cake–er pie?

Trying nonchalantly to ask about his favorite desserts, he had mentioned he hadn’t had pecan pie in awhile, that it used to be one of his favorites. Thanking your granny for always making one for almost every holiday, you knew that recipe off the top of your head.

You triple checked that it was still in its container in the fridge. ‘It hasn’t grown legs and walked off.’ You giggle at the thought and shut the door, going through the space to check once more on your handiwork. 

Satisfied, you shut the lights off and lock up, a bounce in your step as you walk to your car.

-

You’re up before your alarm screams at you, too excited about today. You head into the office earlier than usual, getting the pie out from the fridge and setting it on the table, sticking the candles in it.

You feel like your body is literally vibrating from excitement, not knowing why you’re so thrilled. 

I mean, yeah you’re throwing a surprise party for Leon, but there’s something else there. Maybe it’s that you get to do something for him? You do feel a bit giddy whenever he thanks you for tidying up his office, his lopsided smile making your own smile turn into a grin.

‘Maybe you have a crush on Leon?”

Oh, it could be that. Dude’s hot, a bit dorky. A flirt, too, even if he doesn’t mean to come off that way. You could see it. You don’t have long to contemplate the thought, hearing his Jeep pull up.

Screaming internally, you rush to grab your party hat and throw it on, turning off the light and moving to stand in the middle of the room.

The door opens with a soft chime. Leon steps into the foyer, muttering, “Why the hell are the lights out?” 

Leon walks into the room and flips the switch, and you scream, “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEON!”

You startled him it seems. Leon jumps back, hand hovering over his side before realizing it’s just you, and his hand drops.

‘Damn, he almost pulled his gun on me, maybe that wasn’t the best idea, next time I definitely won’t–’

“How did you know it was my birthday?”

Snatched from your internal monologue, you stare at him. 

He seems…upset?

“Uh, w-well, back a few weeks ago, I was cleaning your office and saw that your file was pulled up, I happened to glance at your birthdate! Also, it totally makes sense, like, of course you’re an Aries. Athletic, brave, charming, stereotypical and…”

You trail off, your rambling dying off at his hardened expression. 

Leon walks towards you. 

He’s not the tallest man, but with the expression on his face along with his body language, you feel minuscule.

You try to ease the tension in the room, by babbling, of course.

“I made you a pie, pecan! Y-you said you hadn’t had it in awhile, and my family makes a really good one, it’s actually my granny’s recipe–” He holds a hand up to silence you.

He walks back to the front door and locks it, before stalking past you into his office.

“Come in and close the door,” he says cooly.

Dread seeps into you, breathing beginning to pick up. ‘Is he going to fire me?’

You take a deep breath and release, turning and walking into his space, closing the door behind you.

You sit in the loveseat in front of his desk. It seems like the banner stares you down as well, seemingly mocking you in this turn of events.

He sits down in his chair and leans back, chin in his hand while he stares off to the side.

You stare at your lap, hands sweaty as you wring them. 

“You have no idea why I don’t celebrate it.” 

Your eyes dart up to look at him, but he’s still staring off, but his expression looks softer now.

You think he’s talking out loud, so you don’t answer, looking down once more. 

“My parents died when I was younger. After they were gone, no one threw me any parties. No more gifts, no more cakes. I couldn't even tell the other kids because they thought I was lying about the date. So I stopped celebrating it. Kept it to myself, until now.”

Your heart hurts for him. The pain behind his words are evident.

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” you blurt out, unable to hold back the wave of emotions, “You deserve to have a happy birthday, with cakes and gifts and all, surrounded by those who care for and love you. I just wanted it to be a good day for you, I didn’t mean to bring back such awful memories.”

You’re a mess, the horrible feeling of guilt filling you, your eyes red with unshed tears. You rise from your seat and walk around to him, and Leon stands up on instinct.

You don’t even care if this isn’t professional at this point. You wrap your arms around his waist and embrace him, your tear soaked face soaking into his button up.

He says your name, “It’s okay, you didn’t know,” he tries to comfort you as best as he can, going to pat your head and disturbs the streamers around the edges of the party hat you’re still wearing. You gasp and pull back, ripping it off and tossing it to the ground.

You apologize again, making your way towards the desk to pull the banner down. You’re pulling the tape off the corner when Leon’s hand stops you.

“Hey.”

Leon says softly, his fingers grasping your wrist, tugging your hand away. 

“You said I deserve to have a happy birthday, don’t I?” He asks, and you jerk your head in a nod, “Of course, yeah.”

He smiles, “Well, there’s always today, it’s still my big day, ain’t it?” 

He walks over and picks up the hat up off the floor, holding it out to you.

“Let’s start with that pie, I’m starvin’.”

[tare-anime]

SxF Mission 84

(Beware of spoilers)

Oh woooooowwwwwwwwww!!!

Wheeler is really one capable spy!!!

Totally love him, Endo!!!

He can easily defeat 3 WISE agents!

Turning the table when it seems like he was already arrested

Using a small knife to nullified gun threats

And not falling for Twilight's tricks, even beat him down!!

Whoah....

Yea I know Twilight is already injured. But Wheeler really is a league of his own

With that kind of stamina, agility, skills, and adaptable analysis accuracy, are we sure he is not triple agent? That he's actually part of Garden?? Because I don't think SSS can have an agent of this caliber 🤣🤣🤣🤣 (sorry SSS).

Anyway, the chapter end with unhinged Fiona.

After unhinged Melinda back then, now we have unhinged Fiona. Endo sure loves his female characters, eh?? (And I love Endo for that 🥰)

Now the questions are, what is the reason for Fiona's rage? Is it:

1. A simple fangirl getting angry because her idol is hurt? Which is, tbh, rather meh. I really hope Endo use this narrative to develop Fiona's character. Which make possible reason no.2 is more interesting. That is...

2. Fiona's ideal or perfect Twilight (in her fantasy) is being broken to dust. She has to accept a bitter truth that at the end, Twilight is just another human and that's he is not invincible. So she better stop putting him on pedestal, and worship him. It is about time she surpass her mentor.

"Ambitious Fiona" is still a far more interesting characterization rather than "crazy fangirl with crazy dreams Fiona".

3. Fiona that has realized that Twilight is just mere human, now change her target to Wheeler. She has to kill this man (but Wheeler survive) and thus begin the cat and mouse game between the two. (What? Fiona and Wheeler? Don't you guys see it in that panel? How Wheeler flirt with Fiona by mocking her incapability? Fiona-Wheeler--> Feeler? 🤣🤣🤣 lol, I'm joking. Or maybe not 👀)

4. Fiona and Yuri first meet! She is upset cause Yuri is getting beaten down! (Ok, this is just my YuriIona impossible wish 🤣)

Ahem, what? Twilight is destinied to be with Yor. So let's make harem for Fiona instead.

Ok ok.

Angsty thought now.

What will happen when Yor heard the news that both of her boys has now been hurt and hospitalized? They might tell her that both got in a "totally happen in different place" car accident. But Yor herself is not a stranger to martial arts. She would definitelly recognize the wounds on Loid's and Yuri's body as a result from fighting. She will be devastated for sure. But her reaction can be:

1. She blame herself, and then start to do her night job harder. Kill harder. Clean the place harder.

2. She connects the dots and realized that Loid and Yuri has fight the other. She might be very upset at both of them. Yor herself might be not thinking about the boy's secret identity, but this will lead Yuri to realize who Loid really is.

Either way, this arc is getting more and more interesting!!!

I can't wait to read more, Endo! 🥰🥰

[iamcautiouslyoptimistic]

Deja Vu ~ Russell Adler x Female Reader

{Author's Note} This was inspired by @alypink's recent Adler render where he's leaning against a muscle car AND HOO BOY that put tons of thoughts in my head about a younger Adler before he heads off to Vietnam. Reader in this story dated him before he went off to war and they got together again after the events of the Cold War game. I probably got some timeline stuff wrong but I did my research and tried to keep it consistent lol. A horrendous sinus infection has given me a short break from school as I start some medications to clear it up so that means more time for writing! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this! I've got plenty of ideas for a younger Adler x reader series so expect more in the future! And let me know if you'd like to be removed or added to the tag list🫶🏻 I don't know if I managed to include everyone that I wanted to so please let me know! AND YES I'm using a Robert Redford gif because they're basically the same person in my eyes LOL {Tag List} @littlemissclandestine @alypink @mctvsh @adlerboi @deadbranch @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghostlythots @glitterypirateduck

Russell Adler x Female Reader

❌Content Warning: none❌

~ ~ ~

1965

“When are you leaving again?” 

Adler sends you a glance through dark shades as you pass him a bucket full of water. He takes it easily, hefting it with little issue while you had struggled to lift it only moments ago. 

“In a month,” he responds and splashes the bucket’s contents across the windshield of his car. “Higher ups are gettin’ worried about the increased communist presence in Vietnam so they’re sending in some troops. I’ll be going on behalf of the CIA to do some recon and see if we can figure out what’s happening over there.”

You knew that already. He’d told you half a dozen times before but he answered you anyway. He knew how worried you were about the threat of impending war, especially when he was being sent into the midst of it with little choice to refuse. 

All you can manage is a nod as you focus on sponging down the window opposite him. He notices your silence and rounds the car, drying his palms on his already damp tank top. 

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly as he grasps your chin and guides your face to look at him. You blink back tears and he wipes away the few that manage to escape with gentle thumbs. 

“Just gotta make sure the Soviets aren’t meddling in things,” he continues. “It shouldn’t take long.”

You nod as he caresses the curves of your cheeks. “I just want you to be careful.” 

And come back alive, you think to yourself. Come back to me. 

He leans to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I will. Promise.”

His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that makes you smile and clears the mist from your eyes. 

“Now, help me finish cleaning this thing before Sims gets here. He needs to see this baby in all her glory.”

You laugh, feeling your heart lighten as Russ turns up the radio. He bobs his head to The Beach Boys song flowing through the speakers and you promise yourself to commit this moment to memory. The glint of his shades in the sunlight, the shimmer of golden hair as he pushes it off his forehead, the movement of his arms and back as he leans over the hood of his car. The image is imprinted in your mind’s eye for years to come.

~ ~ ~

1982

Adler has changed, though your memories of him have not. He’s still stubborn as a mule with an envy-inducing sense of style and a love for muscle cars. He’s older now, quieter and less open, scarred both physically and mentally after his time in Vietnam. His most recent escapade involved a former Soviet agent who he refuses to talk about so you don’t push the topic. You’re just happy he’s come back to you.

“You gonna keep staring or help me clean this thing?” Russ says with a slight smile. His shades reflect the sun the same way they did all those years ago and you hurry to his side, upping the radio’s volume on the way.

Russ likes to talk about cars and so you let him, enjoying the sound of his voice as he guides you through the inner workings of the machinery before you. He's gentle and careful with his movements, and you notice the serenity in his features. It was one of the few times he was able to relax, a brief moment where he didn't carry the world on his shoulders. You know he's not perfect, far from it, but he deserves this temporary peace and you're thankful that you're present to enjoy it with him.

“Do you know that I love you?” you ask suddenly. The comment makes Russ pause in his work, gaze lifting to yours as he straightens.

"That so?"

You giggle. "You're supposed to say it back, you know," you tease, fully aware of his tendency to play coy with this sort of thing.

He brushes stray strands of hair from your face, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing your features. He was hesitant to touch you these days, fearing you'd be disgusted by his calloused hands, but you made it a point to remind him that such things were a sign that he had survived and kept his promise to you, even if it had taken longer than either of you had anticipated.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, as if he were afraid to release the phrase into the world where it could be taken from him.

You grin and lean to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, hearing his contented sigh as his arms settle around your waist. You promise to commit this moment to memory, just as you had countless times before, adding it to the complicated collection of images and sensations that made up Russell Adler.

[t-lostinworlds]

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

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

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

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

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

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

✘ MOODBOARD

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

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning, Peter."

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

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

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

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were incredible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Pete."

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

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

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

"After you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

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

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

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

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And the card?" Peter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need help?"

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

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

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

"Wow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's."

•••

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

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

"I'm not—"

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

Right. Fake identities.

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

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

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

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

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

It's pretend. Get a grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

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

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

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

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

Not too far off from reality.

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

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

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

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

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

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

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

You smiled. "Of course."

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

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

Peter's heart quickened.

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

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

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

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

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

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

"My, aren't you two cute."

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

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

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

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

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

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

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

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

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

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was what he told himself, anyway.

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

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

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

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

So that's your fake name.

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

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

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

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

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

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

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

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

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

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

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

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

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

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

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

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

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

Peter believed it was both.

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

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

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter blinked. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, he felt bold, confident.

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

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

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

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

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

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

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

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

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You just had to cockblock—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look parched, my darling."

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

But she likes your accent more.

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

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

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry. 

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated. 

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you. 

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them. 

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet. 

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[gabessquishytum]

I've spent almost all day at work thinking about my Haunted Mansion AU. I might actually end up writing this. So, some more of my ideas:

Just like in the film, Hob dies during a Masquerade Ball. He and Roderick meet to discuss 'business' and end up going to Morpheus' study, where they're supposed to wait for him. Hob doesn't trust Roderick but believes that he is safe because surely Roderick won't do anything stupid in the middle of a huge party. While waiting, Hob grabs wine for them, but Roderick poisons Hob's drink. Morpheus arrives, realizes what Roderick has just done, and loses it. Roderick assumed he'd be okay (ironically for the same reason Hob thought everything would be fine), but he doesn’t realize Morpheus is a very old and powerful vampire. Morpheus kills Roderick and then cries over Hob's body, eventually ending the Masquerade Ball by carrying his body through the party.

Like Mr. Gracey in the movie, he plans to kill himself to join his beloved in the afterlife but his eldest brother, Destiny, who can see the future, comes to him. Destiny tells Morpheus that Hob will be reborn in time (as Hob has always been one to reject death, which is part of the reason he and Morpheus worked so well together) and if Morpheus kills himself, he'll not actually be joining Hob in the afterlife. He won't tell Morpheus how long, but he tells Morpheus to wait. So Morpheus does.

I had the thought that instead of Ramsley, Lucienne is the butler, but she's also the librarian of the Manor because she spent so much time there that Morpheus just kind of gave it to her. She's also an Elf.

Jessamy and Matthew take the places of the Maid and Not-Butler (The "Inconceivable!" Guy) and they are siblings who are Fae. They both have the ability to shapeshift into Ravens.

I haven't decided if Corinthian is in this yet. Probably not because I can't figure out where to put him.

I also had the thought that Robert, the real estate agent that is Hob reincarnated, would spend a week at the Manor, and every night he would dream a little more about his life as Hob. How he and Morpheus met, fell in love, and it all culminates in Hob's murder.

Morpheus spends the entire time trying to Be Normal™ about this man who is absolutely his beloved returned to him, just as his elder brother promised. He's so busy trying to Be Normal™ (which, for the record, he's horrendous at lol) that he misses the very obvious hints Rob has been dropping about his memories slowly coming back. At least until Rob has his final dream, where he actually TALKS to Hob, the part of his soul that IS Hob. They have a conversation and realize they aren't all that different, and Rob admits he wouldn't mind if they... became one for lack of a better term. So they sort of merged into one being. He's still Rob, but he's also Hob now.

Hob/Rob talk to Morpheus, explain the situation, and they live happily ever after once Morpheus turns him.

- 🐺

I really really hope that you decide to write this, I love this outline so much. I love the inclusion of Matthew and Jessamy, I love how much the setting of the haunted mansion suits Dream’s vibes so incredibly well.

I love how well Hob can fit into this au as well, because it's almost like you can have 1389 Hob and 2023 Hob talking to eachother (only in this au its Hob and Rob ofc). I just think that could be really poignant and lovely. Like I said I really hope you write this up as a full fic, but even if you don't these ideas are really wonderful already <3

[lahooozaherr]

Chick at a Rock Concert

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x Fem!Agent!Reader

Rating: E

Word Count: 5.8k

MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI. AGELESS/BLANK ACCOUNT WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: You’re a Kingsman agent and tag along for a mission at a music festival, looking for a distraction after the lingering loss of your fellow agents. Jack takes immediate notice of you, sparking a mutual attraction between the two of you. When he’s rejected by the “chick at a rock concert”, you take the opportunity to spend the day with him. That day leads into a night of even more fun.

Warnings: fem!reader, soft dom!Whiskey, age gap sorta (Age not specified for reader, Jack’s ego is just bruised), daddy kink if you squint (Jack refers to himself as it a few times, no hard feelings if you wanna just replace the word in your head because this isn’t a ddlg dynamic), praise kink, smut, oral (f receiving) p in v, soft turning into rough sex, cockwarming, dirty talk, pet names, no physical description of reader and “festival outfit” is left vague, smol amount of angst

A/N: I’m ngl this is pretty self indulgent. It’s been a brain rot simmering in my head for a few weeks. I just have a feeling Jack would go nuts over someone who tries to match his energy while wearing one of those sexy music festival outfits lol. Jack is one of my faves and I hope I’m able to do him justice. I’ve debated making this a one shot series or something to weave into the story of the movie but we’ll see lol. I did my best to keep the reader’s “backstory” vague. This is also my first smut, so kind-of practice for when I get to that point in my current Mando WIP. Also not beta read :D

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

Read it on AO3

The mission was pretty simple, and you probably weren’t needed for it. But the previous days for you and your very few remaining Kingsman peers had been a disaster, to say the least. You volunteered to come along, knowing it was at a popular music festival. It was still work but it was also the small “break” you needed to have a moment away from the grief and sadness over losing so much. You just needed something, anything, to help forget for the time being.

You picked out a cheeky festival outfit, not uncommon for these kinds of events. Might as well try to blend in, you told yourself. Weaving through the crowd, you set to find Eggsy through the sea of eccentric festival goers.

—

Eggsy had too much on his mind and was reeling from the current realization of how this mission was about to go down. Agent Whiskey demonstrated with his fingers and a subtle explanation of how to plant the tracking device on the target.

“Where is that other agent of y’all’s?” Whiskey asks, an undertone of annoyance in his voice as he takes a swig of his flask.

Eggsy stops walking, “she should be meeting with us any minute now. She told me she’s here already.”

Whiskey and Eggsy, while looking for you, had also spotted the mission's target. A woman lounging at one of the many outdoor bars of the event. Eggsy’s heartbeat quickens, he’s dreading every minute of this. But this mission is too important and he knows that.

Jack scoffs, “takin’ her sweet time, our girl is right over there.”

“Ah! There she is!” Eggsy shuts Whiskey down. Before he can continue to complain, he looks up towards you. His jaw hangs a little after Eggsy points you out as you stride towards them.

This was your first time physically meeting Whiskey, despite technically being in the same room as the “meeting” with Statesman’s leader, Champ. But you didn’t have glasses at the time that would allow you to see a projection of him in his seat. You couldn’t help but stare back at him as you got closer to the two.

Ginger warned you about him when she helped you set up for this mission. Telling you he’s a huge flirt and will likely make a pass at you. You didn’t exactly mind though, you weren’t afraid of a flirtatious encounter. You requested to read his file and after doing so, you really felt for him. You wanted to see the good in others, to understand them. And based on his past you could tell he’s been through a lot, and it’s probably complicated. You could at least empathize with him.

Aside from that, what’s wrong with wanting to have some fun? Maybe you both could help each other forget, just a little bit.

He drank in the sight of you in the outfit you’d chosen, and suddenly you were not regretting it because you could tell. You found yourself doing the same to him. He’s attractive, broad shouldered and golden skinned. He wore a Stetson, white T-shirt, leather jacket and jeans that did a beautiful job of capturing the shape of his slender hips and legs. A sharp nose and jawline, clean shave save for pouty lips with a perfectly groomed mustache atop them.

Approaching them, you sigh, “so sorry to make you guys wait, this place is packed!”

Whiskey seemed to be momentarily frozen until Eggsy breaks the silence with a clearing of his throat. He introduces you to him by your code name and actual name.

“And uhm, this is Agent Whiskey-“

“Jack. Jack Daniels.” Cutting Eggsy off while taking a large step towards you, not hiding the way his eyes take a quick look at you, up and down. He holds his hand out for you and you take it with a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Hearing you choose to use his actual name sends a thrill through him. A grin creeps across his lips, “darlin’, the pleasure is all mine.” He lifts your hand to his lips to leave a small, chaste kiss. You can’t help but giggle, both at the act and Eggsy giving a very exaggerated eye roll from behind him.

Jack’s eyes are a dark, chocolate brown and you don’t break the eye contact he maintains with you. They almost sparkle.

“Anyways, our target is right over there.” Eggsy interjects. Jack jerks upright and clears his throat, letting go of your hand.

Jack takes a swig of his flask, “watch and learn, buddy.” He puffs his chest and struts towards the bar.

————————————————————————-

Watching Jack get rejected like that was…rough, to say the least. You couldn’t help but quietly snicker, watching Eggsy so swiftly capture the attention of the woman away from Jack’s failed attempt at hitting on her.

He frowns deeply and glares, walking away. You decide it’s safe to let Eggsy take the reins and catch up to Jack.

“I’m not going to lie, that was a little hard to watch,” you say to him. He stops walking and looks at you, unamused. You shrug it off and continue, “that’s ok though. Why don’t we enjoy the festival?”

Jack lets out a deep sigh and turns his head, “darlin’, you don’t want to hang out with an ‘old man’ like me.” The way he says the words “old man” is a mocking echo of what Eggsy had called him in front of that woman. Dang, he took that pretty personally. You imagine you probably would too, if you were in his shoes.

You decided to take this opportunity to rekindle the flame on that brief “chemistry” you had with him earlier. You boldly insert one of your arms into his elbow.

With a lilt in your voice, batting your lashes at him you say, “I prefer men who are experienced, anyways.”

That seemed to do the trick of snapping him out of this small depressive slump. That sparkle returned to his eyes and his smile widened, revealing his perfect white teeth.

“Oh sugar, I can be that and more.” He wraps his free hand around yours in the crook of his elbow and you both continue on into the crowd.

—————————————————————————

At some point, after wandering for a bit, you both found a space in the grass field, a far distance out from one of the stages. Both of you are lounging and basking in the sun. Hours had passed before you had realized it, the two of you were too distracted by each other and your conversation to even notice.

Jack’s personality was provocative, fiery and passionate. His cheesy pick up lines worked on you, in a way. He took joy in sharing interesting stories he kept up his sleeve that hooked your attention. He described various close calls he’d had in the field, especially from when he was younger. You listened intently and never broke away from him.

He laid out on his back, arms braced behind himself in the grass. Next to him, you’d opted to rest on your front, propped up on your elbows and your legs kicked up behind you. The angle giving him a front row seat to your cleavage.

Here and there you’d notice the way he’d look you up and down, but you preened under his gaze. There was an obvious attraction between the two of you and neither of you tried to hide it.

When you were deep in telling your own story, one that caused you to shift into sitting on your bottom, he took one of your hands in both of his large hands. He rubbed his thumbs across your knuckles and carefully inspected your palm and fingers, absentmindedly, as you spoke.

You let out a deep sigh, “spending time with you today has been a breath of fresh air, thank you.” That might have come out more sentimental than you intended but life has been a wild ride lately. “I don’t know whether I’m going up or down anymore….”

Jack’s facial expression softens and he squeezes your hand in one of his, “anytime, darlin’. In some ways, I’ve been in your shoes before. It never gets easier.” His tone was even and more serious. You knew he understood. It comes with the type of job you’ve both found yourselves in.

“However,” you start, “I’m thankful we found the Statesmen. I don’t know what we’d be doing if it weren’t for you all. I don’t know if finding who did this will fill the hole in my heart but something has to be done.”

Jack sits up and leans towards you, “a hole in your heart, huh?”

Your face heats up, “I-I mean, that’s the best way I can describe it I guess.”

“No no, I understand. I’ve just never heard it put that way….” He pauses, his eyes briefly drift off and then come back to yours. His other hand reaching to push a strand of your hair behind your ear, a shiver runs up your spine. You’ve lost yourself in his eyes and never want to come back up for air.

“Don’t you worry, sugar. We will make things right.”

—————————————————————————

This mission ended up being pretty easy, at least for the two of you it did. You felt bad for Eggsy. Jack later explained how and WHERE the tracker had to be placed, and you could imagine the inner turmoil that that had caused. Or even worse, the possible relationship problems it could cause for him.

When Jack described to you what he had told Eggsy to do with the tracker, your face heats up. Jack on the other hand, winked and flashed a white toothed grin. He had assumed he would be the one doing the deed but it looked like the universe had other plans, and you certainly didn’t mind.

The bright, sunny day had started to fade into night. The sky progressed from a beautiful orange sunset into a deep purple. Some stars could be seen above the continuing hustle and bustle of the festival. You hadn’t heard from Eggsy since leaving him and you started to grow concerned. Standing off to the side of one of the festival's exits, you called him. Jack stood near you, hands on his hips as he waited.

Your call to Eggsy goes to voicemail and just as you’re about to hang up and try again, you get a text notification from him.

It’s done, I’ve let Ginger know. I’ll meet back up with both of you tomorrow.

You read this aloud so Jack could hear, he rolls his eyes and shrugs. You snicker, “are you really still bitter about him stealing your thunder?”

“Hey now….” He gently grabs your elbows and brings you close to him. Wrapping one hand around your waist and the other pinching your chin and stroking from your cheeks to your jawline. His eyes meet yours and they’re dark, reflecting his growing hunger. Whatever sass you were about to quip out immediately evaporates, leaving you a melting mess in his arms. Your own breath slowed and you returned his gaze under fluttering lashes.

His voice dips an octave and he stares deeply into your eyes, “Ol’ Jack never lost his thunder.” A shiver runs up your spine once again and you smile bashfully. Your eyes drifted to the side in an attempt to hide the flustered heat on your face. He hums, using his thumb and forefinger to delicately redirect your eyes back to his.

“Don’t hide from me.”

After a day full of flirting and building sexual tension, you make a snap decision. Bringing your arms up and draping them around his neck, chest against his. You hold his gaze a few seconds more while he adjusts his hands to sit on either side of your waist.

“Well then, Cowboy,” you say, echoing back the same low, husky tone. “Would you say ‘mission accomplished’?”

Jack hums in amusement, happy to see you rise to his challenge.

“Not yet, sugar. Still haven’t hooked up with a chick at a rock concert.”

It feels like a burst of butterflies in your stomach. Heat pooling in your stomach and thankful his hands are on you because otherwise you feel like you’d float away.

You flash him a sultry grin, “I think I can make that happen.” His face brightens as you shift your hands down from his shoulders to his firm pecs. His large hands explore up and down your back, his body is warm and inviting. You could smell the musk of his chosen cologne for today. Touching him like this after a day full of passive brushes and small gestures felt like finally drinking water in a parched desert.

“But on one condition,” you add, lowering your voice.

Jack quirks an eyebrow at you, “tell me, beautiful.”

Your eyes flick up to his hat and back down to him, his eyes following you. You maneuver yourself closer to his head, bringing your lips close to his ear.

“I want to wear your hat while I ride you,” you whisper.

The next thing you hear is a deep growl erupting from his chest. In one swift move he has one hand on the back of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss. You mutually feel like a dam has finally broken.

The kiss is long as you both exhale and hum into each other’s mouths. He licks into your mouth and in return you gently bite his bottom lip, almost sending him into a frenzy.

Jack, almost painfully unlatches himself from you. His eyes meet yours, dilated and blown out on lust. A dark chuckle escapes his mouth and he pins you close to him with both hands behind your neck, using his thumbs to balance your jaw. The act itself sends arousal coursing furiously through your veins. You’re going to be a puddle before you can even leave the festival.

Jack grabs your hand and leads you alongside him, back to his Bronco. You both run and giggle like teenagers in love trying to sneak around. When you approach his car, he opens his passenger side door and lets you in. He dashes to the driver's side and buckles in.

With one hand on the steering wheel, he uses the other to wrap around you and bring you close to him, buckling you into the middle seat. Then, with smooth precision, he reverses out of his space and makes his way out of the parking lot and towards his hotel.

—————————————————————————

Jack’s Bronco screeches to a halt in the driveway of the hotel. Within seconds he exits and is at the passenger side letting you out.

He wraps his arm around you and brings you close into his side as he walks towards the entrance. His hand gives the meat of your thigh a small grip and you yelp. Jack throws his keys to the valet boy and struts inside.

Once at the elevator, Jack scans a key that sends it to the private suite up top. Of course he would have a private, fancy suite you think to yourself. You both enter the elevator, his hand on the small of your back guiding you in.

Once the doors closed, you’re on each other. A flurry of gnashing teeth and grabbing hands. He pushes you against the corner of the elevator with both hands on your waist. You wrap both arms around his neck, one hand stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, using his body to balance you.

His hand trails upward to grip the back of your neck, threading through the hair that grows there. He breaks away from your lips, using his grip to carefully tilt your head back, exposing your neck. Trailing heated kisses up and down, murmuring in between each.

Jack’s going to treat you right, don’t you worry babydoll.

I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.

You had been thinking about this all day too, unashamedly.

You moan when feeling his pelvis grind up against you. He’s already very hard and the sounds he pulls from you only serve to excite him further. Just as he’s about to slip a hand underneath the hem of your shirt, the elevator dings and opens up into the suite.

The hotel suite is massive. A living room with a kitchen to the side. Further in is a doorway to the suite’s master bedroom. The trip there becomes a mix of kissing, groping, and removing articles of just your clothing one by one until you’re brought to the edge of the bed wearing only your bra and panties. Looking around the room you see it break off into an open, large bathroom with a claw foot tub and glass door shower.

The back of your knees hits the edge of the mattress, with Jack gently pushing into you as you sit. Your hands come up to undo his belt buckle, but his hands grab yours to stop you.

“Not yet, gorgeous,” he says with a husky tone. “Daddy’s going to have his way with you first.”

You’ve decided you will never get tired of the nicknames. They cause your heart to hammer in your chest and you love every second of it.

Your arms drop back to your sides on the bed. Jack licks his lower lip and leans over to reach behind you to unlatch your bra. Once it’s free, he slowly slips it off your shoulders and discards it to the side.

He proceeds to gently guide you to lay on the bed. His hands grab under your knees to bring your legs up, feet resting on the bed. Finally, he loops both forefingers into the sides of your panties and pulls them off, joining your bra on the floor. Following that is his leather jacket.

Standing up straight and resting one hand on each of your knees, he pauses. His eyes rake you over and he hums.

“Lemme get a good look ‘atcha.”

The sight of you beneath him, naked and vulnerable, is downright breathtaking to him. Your breathing is heavy, your eyes hooded and lips parted and swollen. He’s proud to have been able to rile you up like this. He grabs his Stetson off his head and sets it on the other corner of the mattress.

Watching him look you over sends a buzz through your body and centers on your core. However, you need his touch, right now.

“Jack, please….”

“Please, what?” Thumbs tracing the inner sides of your knees. “Tell me, gorgeous.”

“T-touch me…” You manage to stutter out. “Please touch me, right now.”

Immediately, Jack drops to his knees on the floor and grips your thighs to scoot your bottom to the edge of the bed. He leaves small kisses on your inner thighs making his way to your heat. He goes right into it, flattening his tongue and running it up your folds. One hand reaches up to massage your breast, rolling his thumb over your nipple. You bite your lip in response.

It feels like a shock to your system, sending slick to gather between your thighs. Back arching, soft pants as you send a hand down to card through his soft hair. You suddenly feel one of his fingers circle your opening and insert. You almost cry out but stop yourself by biting the knuckles of your other hand.

“Jack….Jack, oh my god….”

“Mmmm gorgeous, you taste better than I had even imagined.”

His finger slides in and out, rubbing your clenching walls. Not too long after, he inserts another finger, earning another loud moan from you. The fire at the base of your spine rapidly grows brighter and brighter, causing you to involuntarily begin to buck against his face. His tongue and lips expertly sucking, licking and laving on and around your sensitive bud. His free hand sliding up to cup your knee and keep your legs apart.

You cry out and whimper the closer you get to your limit, beginning to see stars. You were not prepared for how good he is at this. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs and squeeze, holding you steady while he rubs his face deeper.

“You going to cum for me, sugar? Come on baby, I got’cha,” Jack cooes.

That’s enough to send you over the edge, feeling you clench down on his fingers as you climax. Murmurs of That’s it, show Daddy what you got through your loud moans. Your vision fades to black, you reward his ministrations with cries of Yes, yes…oh my god Jack, yes!

After working you through your first orgasm, he stands up and rests his hands on either of your knees. He watches your panting, heaving chest. His hands shoot forward, tenderly grabbing both of your breasts in his hands. You make a small, strangled noise in response and then hum.

“That was…..amazing,” you say between small gasps, still regaining your breath.

Jack smiles wide and crooked, “that’s just the start, gorgeous.”

Jack finally starts to really let go of his restraint with you, moving to make quick work of removing his clothes. When you attempt to sit up, his hand immediately pushes you back down and wags his finger with a tut from his mouth. “So needy. But I’m going to take my time.”

His words cause something between a moan and giggle to come from you, biting your lip while you watch him undo his ridiculous belt buckle. He sees you eyeing it and quirks an eyebrow, “Should I use this on you? Wrap it around your pretty wrists?”

A light forms in your eyes and you shake your head yes, excitement building in your stomach and between your thighs. “I’d love that, Jack.”

“I’m sure you would, darlin’,” he says silkily.

The last thing to be stripped off is his underwear, cock springing forward red and heavy.

Jack positions himself between your thighs, arms caging your head and your upper bodies melding together. His lips meet yours in a fevered kiss while you stretch your arms out above your head to give easier access to you.

His tongue runs along your bottom lip and you grant him access, his tongue quickly overpowering yours and licking into your mouth. It’s almost difficult keeping up with his passionate kissing.

Your eyes open to meet him when he stops and his gaze is still dark and hungry. Those warm brown eyes only added to melt you into the trembling mess you're becoming at his expert fingertips.

Jack starts to trail down your body, nipping and kissing your jawline, moving down to gently scrape his teeth across your collarbone. Taking one breast in one hand while the other supports him above you. He takes your nipple in his mouth and you arch into him, sending electricity through your nerves. Arousal starts to build back up in between your thighs.

“You’re so perfect,” Jack says breathily. “I can wait much longer. Are you ready for me, gorgeous?”

Your eyes cast down to meet him as he continues to lap at your breasts, “Yes Jack, please. I need you.”

“Welll….” He drawls. “Now what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t give my girl what she needs?”

Taking his length in his hand, he lines himself up with your opening, sliding it through your slick folds and coating himself. Then slowly, but surely, he begins to insert. The stretch around him feels amazing and takes your breath right out of your lungs.

Jack almost loses himself doing this, and he’s not even all the way in. Jack has quite a length himself, he knows this. Hence the need to prepare you like he did. He lets out a low groan from his chest as he buries himself in your wet cunt.

His face is right above yours, lips brushing as you breath in each other's air while he adjusts himself. You widen your legs to give him more space to sink himself in, he rolls his hips to enter gradually. After a few rocks of his hips, he’s into the hilt.

You can’t help but cry out and the sound is music to his ears. His hips start a steady, rolling pace with each thrust increasing the volume of your wanton moans. You can feel every inch of him dragging against your walls.

He feels almost impossibly deep as he picks up his pace. You arch your back from his bed, your chest becoming flush with his. The feeling of your soft breasts against his chest elicits a deep moan from the back of his throat.

One of his hands cups your cheek as he lowers his face to your ear on the opposite side. Just when you thought you couldn’t possibly take in any more different sensations, his hot breath fans over your skin while singing you praises.

Atta girl, that’s it, I’ve got you.

Oh you take me so well…so well.

Can you give me another? Come on gorgeous, I know you can.

The coil in your stomach tightens and tightens but you can’t seem to find the end of it. You open your mouth to say something but you’re not sure what. You just need more and more of him.

“Oh….I….” You can barely stutter out, your vision turning white. He nudges your temple with his nose then lays a sensual kiss.

“Do you need more? Tell Jack what you need.”

“Yes…yes please, I-I need more!” You finally manage to breathe out.

Jack’s eyes meet yours with a glint of mischief and a crooked grin to match. With one hand bracing above your head and the other snaking down to grip your lower back and waist.

“Hold on tight sugar and get ready to giddy-up!”

In a split second he stops thrusting, using his muscular body to swiftly roll over his side to his back while bringing you with him placing you on top. When adjusted, you allow yourself to sink down onto him, creating a whole new myriad of stimulation.

Jack marvels at the sight of you atop of him, puffing his chest in pride. Both of you breathily laugh as you adjust. A sheen of sweat has gathered across the soft skin of your body and shines in the lowlight of the bedroom.

At first you stay put, feeling the new depth of his cock inside of you. Conveniently, you remember what you told him earlier. You turn to find his hat still perched on the corner of the bed, stretching your arm out to grab it. He watches you carefully as you gently grab the top of his precious Stetson.

Turning back to look at him, flashing him a seductive look, you place his hat on top of your head. You lick your bottom lip and bite it, placing your hands on his chest to keep your balance. “Let’s go for a ride, cowboy.”

Jack grins back at you dangerously, “oh babydoll you’re going to be the death of me!”

He shifts and plants his legs into the bed, straightening his knees to give him leverage. He ruts his hips up into yours and sets a punishing pace, resulting in a loud, erotic moan erupting from your chest. Taking that as encouragement, he digs his fingers into your hips to keep you steady while the head of his cock strokes that spot deep inside of you.

The coil in your stomach starts to tighten again and you clench around him. You can feel your next orgasm start to barrel towards you. The sound of skin slapping and your mutual gasps and moans intertwining fills your ears. You haven’t broken eye contact with him and it only adds to the fire deep in his own abdomen.

Your legs start to shake as you cum hard around him, riding out the blissful shockwaves. His cock continuing to fuck up into you and giving the perfect amount of overstimulation for you to ride it out.

“Fuck! F-fuck, oh Jack-“

“Theeeere we go, that’s it, come on Sugar, you can take it!”

Jack takes one large hand and reaches out to rub his thumb against your clit, sending you over the cliff.

At the tail end of your explosive orgasm, you collapse onto his chest. He removes his hat to the side and wraps his arms around your torso, bringing his lips down to your ear to whisper again.

You did so good gorgeous.

Christ almighty girl, can you hear that? You’ve soaked me to the bone.

You begin to whimper and shake. Not sure what to do with your arms, you stretch them out behind you. Jack takes the opportunity to grab both wrists into one hand while the other is still wrapped around your back. Giving him just enough leverage to keep up with the pounding of his hips.

Jack’s own orgasm is very close, your overstimulated pussy fluttering around his length. His eyes roll to the back of his head, “I’m almost there sugar, w-where do you want me?”

You can barely speak while you dissolve into pleasure as you rest on his broad chest. You manage to spit out “inside…on pill….please, inside….”while burying yourself in the crook of his neck.

Jack’s position inside of you practically has his lower back hover above the bed with his legs keeping him up. He suddenly tenses up, hips stutter, and he finally crashes into his own orgasm. His thrusts begin to slow but ride out the pulsing of his cock as it shoots ropes into your tight, wet cunt.

With a loud, satisfied sigh, he relaxes onto the bed. Stretching his legs to rest on the plush mattress. You feel the deep rise and fall of his chest underneath your own. Lifting your head to see his eyes wrenching open to meet yours. He smiles, and you smile back, scooting up to kiss him. He welcomes your lips with a hum and molds his mouth around yours.

The two of you stay like this for a few moments, sated and content. You just know you’re going to be feeling him the next day and you’re sure he’ll love to know that.

Eventually his cock slips out of you as he rolls both of you to your sides, facing each other as closely as you can. He rubs his nose against yours and you giggle.

“Jack…that was phenomenal.”

“I know sugar, I was there,” he drawls, southern accent even more present.

You chuckle and playfully slap his shoulder, his hand reaches around to grab your ass cheek to bring you closer to him.

Jack brings his other arm up to wrap around you between the bed and your arm. He holds you close to him, planting a soft kiss atop your head.

“Thank you sugar,” he murmurs.

You rub your head into the crook of his neck, “thank you? For what?”

“For giving this ‘old man’ a chance.”

Your hand comes up to splay across his pectoral above his heart and you feel his quickened heartbeat underneath your palm. Your own heart is also rapidly beating in tandem. You then bring your hand up to caress his cheek, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“That girl has no idea what she missed out on,” you say, tenderly. “But I’m glad it ended up this way.”

Jack looks deep into your eyes and feels like his heart might burst. He didn’t mean to take the rejection so hard, but what he ended up with was far times better.

Be brings up the comforter on the bed to cover you as he slips out of it. You pout at him in protest, sitting up until he pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, teasingly shushing you.

“Ssshh, sweet girl, just hold on tight for a minute.”

With a light kiss to your forehead as you lay back down, nestling yourself into the soft bed, he treks to the bathroom. You hear him rustling for a few minutes, the sink turning on and off and then the sound of the tub filling. He comes back with a cloth, you catch onto his intent and move the blanket to give him access. Softly, he cleans you up and then discards the cloth.

He offers you a hand and you accept it, letting him help lift you up from the bed to stand on shaky legs. You use both arms to grab him and he smirks, pleased with himself once again. Your legs feel like jello but you’re not complaining one bit.

He brings you to the tub, getting inside first and offering his hands to bring you in with him. You give a low hiss, feeling the hot water touch your skin as you sink into the water. You seat yourself between his legs and rest your back to his chest.

Both of you sigh in contentment, you rest your head back into his shoulder. His hand reaches to rest on your neck and rub his thumb along the hollow of it. He slowly places reverent kisses along your temple into your hairline.

Never, did you think this is how today would end up and you couldn’t be more thankful. Jack simultaneously excites and comforts you. Jack finds himself infatuated, you’ve possibly become the much needed balm for his aches.

“Oh shoot, we didn’t use your belt,” you laugh.

Jack smiles into your hair, “I was thinking we could use that next time…”

Your face falls, you turn your head slightly to face him. His eyes are affectionate and the corners of his lips turned up. You flutter your lashes and mirror back his expression, heart thumping harder in your chest. You didn’t mean to assume this was a one time thing but you’re thrilled to know he wants more of you. Will this lead somewhere interesting?

“I’d love that,” you whisper as he brings his lips down to yours, holding you in a long kiss. His thumb comes up to stroke your cheek and you deepen it. You turn your body towards his, sitting up and moving to straddle his hips. You break off the kiss to rest your hands on his shoulder as he rubs your back, pressing you tight against him.

Jack thought he might be scared to ever find love again. He’s not saying this is love, not yet exactly. But after years of one-night stands, not taking himself seriously and rejected flirting attempts, he’s tired. Ready for something fresh and new. He wonders how in the world your two worlds seemed to line up the way they did. Today might have started with a nearly instant sexual attraction, but it ended off with a full heart and ease he hasn’t experienced in a very, very long time.

Not since her.

And knowing you reciprocate that, enthusiastically, motivates him.

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 9 - I'll be your Dirty Little Secret

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, drug dealing - Narcos Universe (not so accurate), bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only your clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator - 3rd person)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 3.3k

A/N: Thanks for your feedback, hope you enjoy this chapter! Hope to hear from you all soon! I gotta say I'm really fucking horny for Javi lol

Tag: @creedslove | @pedrostories | @mjoee13 | @immyowndefender | @iamsherlocked-1998 | @pedroswife69 | @szde8-blog ***

Narrator's POV:

“Oh, cariño, you're never off the hook, not with me.” - he responded to you, joining you in the bathtub. - “Fuck, cariño, are you trying to cook us? This water is insanely hot!”

You laughed, still feeling fuzzy.

“I like it, Javi…” - you coo.

Your bodies glue as if they were magnets. Your skin, even with hot water, crawls. He sat behind you, covering you, feeling you, getting drunk on you again.

“God, I could stay like this forever, cariño…” - he kisses the back of your neck, softly.

“Me too, Javi… Me too.” - your words come out slowly.

He notices how you melt on top of him. He is relieved that you don't seem desperate to leave him again. 

His hands start to touch your waist lightly, with the tip of his fingers. 

You groan, Javier smirks. 

“Cariño?” - he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah?”

“You know you didn't follow my rules, do you?”

“What do you mean by that, Javi?” - you answer, clueless. You didn't recall that had just happened, your mind was still kinda foggy from all those orgasms.

His smirk grows.

“You came without my permission, cariño. I didn't forget that.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” - you tease.

His hands started going down your body. You shiver.

“Javi…” - you try to form a sentence and fail.

“Cariño, don't make me be meaner that I intend to… Is how they say: don't do the crime if you can't do the time.” - his hands are on your thighs, avoiding where you need them the most.

“Oh, fuck… But Ja-javi, I-I-I warned you…” - you try to argue, your voice barely came out.

He laughed. 

“It wasn't yours yet to take, cariño…” - One of his fingers got inside of you, without any warning. - “You're mine now, cariño.” - A second finger enters. 

You bite a moan.

“I wanna hear you, cariño. No more denying what's mine from me, I already told you that. I hate repeating myself.” - his tone was serious and he put in a third finger. 

“Holy shit, Javier!” - you exclamate. He barely let you get used to his fingers before he put them inside of you one by one.

His smile is growing by the second.

“That's what I wanted to hear…” - his other hand went to your throbbing clitoris, circling on. - “I know you can be a good girl, cariño. You just needed me to help you get there…”

“Javi, please, I'm still sensitive from all of it, I w-won’t be able to ho-hold…” - you didn't want him to stop, but let you come without any permission. Your legs closed, trying to figure out how to obey him.

“Cariño, I know, that's why it's a punishment.” - his tone was so… Arrogant. The hand on your clitoris circled a little faster. - “If you start to get closer, tell me, okay?”

“Javier, for God's sake!” - you yell again.

“Your pussy is hugging my fingers so tight, I already miss you on my dick, cariño.”

Your mind is still foggy. Javier seemed delighted to see you so… So his. His cariño, his baby girl.

A couple minutes later, you held on the bathtub’s rim and yelled, mixing English and Spanish, to Javier have mercy on you.

He smiled widely and responded:

“Promise me that you're not leaving me again, that you're mine…” - his circular motions on your clitoris got even harder and faster. - “Promise me!”

“I promise, Javi!” - you yell. 

“Oh, do you? Are you sure, cariño?” - Javier mocked you.

“Yes, Javier, I do! Please, please let me!”

“Let you what, cariño? Use your words.” - he continued in a ruthless rhythm.

“Javier, for crying out loud, let me come!” - you yell so loud you're sure someone heard you. 

Not that any of you cared per say. You can't remember the last man who made you shake like that.

You can feel Javier's smirk behind you.

“I don't know if I believe you, cariño…”

“Javier, I swear to God…” - you manage to respond.

“You can come, cariño.” - he whispered, like music to your ears.

You come hard, squirting in the bathtub, still holding the rim.

You come screaming Javier's name.

And Javier, at that moment, could die a happy man.

You both took an actual bath, after. And one that cleans you. 

After a few minutes, you both get out, get dry and go to bed.

As you both walk naked back to your room, Javier asked:

“Do you mind if I sleep here, cariño?”

“Peña, for the fucking love of God, you just fucked my throat and pussy and you're asking if we can sleep together?”

“Of course I am!” - he said, as he joined you in the bed. - “It's your bed, your room, your apartment…” - he leaned towards you and his mouth right next to your ear. One arm held you close to him and the other held your pussy, cupping her. - “But you belong to me, cariño. And this pussy is mine. I'm not letting you run away again.”

You tremble under his hands.

“Javi…”

He had a smile on his voice, you could feel it.

“I love when you call me, you know?

“Oh, yeah?” - you moan. 

“Yes, cariño. When you do it, it confirms where you belong.” - he whispered, in a way that made you shake under him. - “Yes, cariño." - he repeated. - “You belong here. Don't forget about your promise.”

“Javi, I won't…” - you managed to respond.

“Good to know, cariño. Buenas noches, Hermosa.”(Good night, beautiful.)

“Good night, Javi.” - you respond.

He kisses you lightly and you both pass out.

***

You wake up alone in your bed.

Fuck, it was payback for leaving him… God, I'm so stupid... - you thought 

But then, you smell coffee from your kitchen.

You get up naked, without realizing it and walk towards the smell.

Javier was wearing only his boxers, preparing coffee on your machine. 

He turns to you, with a wide smile and a lustful look in his eyes.

“Good morning, cariño.”

He hugs you and feels you against skin. You're so soft.

“Good morning, Javi… I thought you left without saying goodbye.” 

“I couldn't do that to you… Not before coffee.” - he jokes. - “Let's have it… I think it's ready.”

He served you and poured himself some in your white mugs. You both drink it, sharing an intimate glance.

“God, that was good, Javi. Future coffee duties are your responsibility in my apartment.” - you smile at him.

He seems genuinely happy to share that moment. His free hand went to your cheek and fondled you.

“Cariño, it's still early… Do you mind serving me breakfast?” 

“Sorry, I didn't get it, Javi… You want to eat something?” 

“Yes, cariño. Sit on the table and open your legs, please. I'd like to have your pussy as my first meal.”

You look at him, in disbelief. 

“We don't have all day, cariño. Go ahead.” - he sat down, waiting.

With your still very much naked body, you sat down in front of him, just like he said.

Javier devoured your cunt as a starved man.

Again.

***

Walking back into his office with a huff, carrying a file with some information on one of Pablo’s Sicarios, he hands it to Steve, who sits at the desk in front of his. 

“Got this from the FBI’s archive.” - and hands it to Steve. - “Seems that our boy Luiz is more than just a sicario, look.” 

Steve passes through the file, interested. 

“God, I need coffee.” - he complains. - “You and your lady friend didn’t let anyone sleep in the fucking building…” - he mocked.

Javier looked at Steve, with his eyes widened. 

“What the fuck, Murphy?”

He laughed.

“Dude… You should really keep it down. Seriously. Our boss is our neighbor, if Connie was here, she’d kick my and your ass. Stop this kind of shit.”

Javier stared at him, without saying any words. You both were actually really fucking loud. Seconds later, the phone on his desk starts to ring.

“Agente Peña.” - he picked up.

“Hello, you…” - you say to him, in a sexy tone. 

You’re looking through your office window, as Javier’s posture flinches. He’s not expecting you to be this bold at work. He knows you’re really uptight about these things.

Javier clears his throat and tries to put on his usual stoic act.

“What do you want?”

“Not saying my name, pretending to be annoyed so as not to alarm Steve… You’re better at sneaking around than I thought, Javi.”

“You know me so well… What do you need this time?” - Javier responded, ironically. 

Steve looked at him, confused.

“You, Javi. I need you. This morning wasn’t enough… Come here to my office.”

He looked at your window, observing your sly smile. 

“Well, that certainly gets my attention. I’ll be there in a bit… You should know I’m in a terrible mood, I did not get much sleep last night” - he teases you in the same annoyed tone.

Steve looked at him, shocked.

“And that’s your fault… You barged into my place, did you forget about it?”

“I didn’t forget. I’ve been remembering every minute of it.”

“Oh, you've been remembering?” - you're a little surprised.

“I certainly have…” - Javier tries to hold back a smirk.

“Control your face, Javi. No one can know about us… Not even Steve.” - you recall him.

“I may not be able to do it if you keep talking to me like that.” - his tone is serious, but you know what he actually meant.

“Stop it…” - you laugh.

“You’re the one who called, you stop it!” - his tone sounded harsh, but his eyes on you were full of lust.

You’re both having so much fun with all that teasing.

“That’s true, I did… So stop fooling with me and come to my office, Javi.” - you whisper.

Javier holds back a smile and respond:

“I’m on my way.” - he hangs up.

He gathers some random files, to help him disguise his visit to your office. As he does it, Steve asks:

“Hey, where you going?”

“Y/LN’s office.”

“Good luck and I hope she doesn't kill you...” - Steve snorted.

Javier rolled his eyes and knocked on your door.

“Come in.” - you tell him, in your normal voice.

Peña stepped in, closing the door behind him.

Without looking at him, reading a file in front of you, you demand:

“Lock the door and close the blinds, Peña…” - the same cold tone that hid all your arousal.

His face holds a smug grin, anxious. 

You get up, look at him, sit on your desk, as he is across the small office, after he closed the blinds.

He stared at you, you can tell he's holding back his urge to pull you into his embrace. 

“Did you miss me?” - you teased Javi.

He gives up on the little self control he's got and comes closer to where you're sitting on the desk. His fingers softly moves along your legs and then your back, as he leaned down your ear and whisper:

“I did, cariño…”

“I missed you too.” - you coo. - “I know it’s not like me to act like this while we’re at work, but… I can’t think about anything else besides how you ate me up on my kitchen table…”

Javi smiled like a kid on Christmas morning. He pulled you closer, kissing your neck before leaning his head back, breathing in your scent. 

“I don’t see how that could possibly be a bad thing… I was looking forward to doing a replay of that for the entire day, I couldn’t think of anything else… Oh fuck, you smell so good… Please don’t tell me it’s the same fucking perfume you used in the first night we’ve got together…”

“Okay, I won’t tell you…” - you respond, with a sly smile.

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, cariño…” - he whispers and kisses you passionately.

The way he touches you is so addictive.

“Oh damn, you’re wearing that shirt that smells like me… The one from the first night…” - you observed.

Javier chuckled.

“I thought it’d be perfect for today… It smells like you and you’re all I can think about.”

“No one noticed, right?” - you question him, kinda afraid. - “Not even Steve? You know we have to be careful…”

“Calm down, Agente Y/LN.” - he said. - “Steve didn’t notice, I’m sure he thinks we’re arguing. Changing the subject a little, to help you relax, I was thinking…” - Javier starts, as his hands move to the flounce of your dress and slowly lifts it. - “We could go on a date tonight, would you like it?” - His hands go to your pussy, to find out that you’re not wearing panties. - “What a dirty girl, cariño… You forgot about wearing panties, when you picked this dress today?”

“I’m not Agente Y/LN for you and I’m not providing evidence against myself to you, Agente Peña…” - you mumble, as he felt how slippery your pussy was, so wet for him already.

“Oh, you’re not, Agente Y/LN? Interesting…” - he coats your folds, moving his fingers as you slightly open your legs and and looks at him.

“Oh, fuck…” - you moan almost inaudibly. - “It’s no-not ‘Agente Y/LN’ for you, Peña… It’s Jefe Y/LN.” - you answer.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” - he pretends to be remorseful, as his index finger teased your hole. You know he’s not sorry. - “Jefe Y/LN, tell me…”

“Ye-yeah, Peña?”

“Did you or did you not forget your panties on purpose this morning, so you could mess around with me?”

You moan, looking at Peña’s smirk. Sometimes, you wish to punch and kiss his face at the same time. 

He inserts his index finger on you, slowly, torturing you.

“Yes, I did.” - you confess, between moans.

Javier’s smile grows and he puts his middle finger. 

“That’s it, cariño… I just wanted the truth.” - he responded to your confession. His fingers continued to work and you could feel your orgasm building on your gut. Javier seemed to know your body better than any man who ever touched you.

“Oh, Javi!” - you moan softly. - “That’s so good, keep going.” - you demand.

“Do you think you can demand anything in your position, cariño?” - He asked. His voice was arrogant as usual. - “No, cariño, I’m done with you calling the shots for the past few weeks. It’s my turn now.” - he toys with your pussy for a bit more and takes off his fingers.

“You’re mean, Peña.” - you groan, missing his touch. 

He smirks, looking deep in your eyes. Without saying a word whatsoever, he pulls you off the table and spins you, so you turn your back on him. He lifts the remaining fabric covering your ass and slaps you.

“Fuck!” - you hiss. - “What are you doing, Peña?”

You hear his belt opening and zipper going down.

“Giving you what you asked for, but in my way.” - answer. - “Hold on the desk, cariño.” 

You obey, as he slides into you, with his big fat dick.

Javier’s hands traveled, one tapping your mouth and the other on your throbbing clitoris, circling it fast.

He bit your flash, to shut him up and not alarm what was going on behind your office’s doors.

Both of you came just a few minutes later, holding back all your noises.

Gasping for air and tucking himself into his pants, Javier asks:

“So, I pick you up at 8?”

“Yeah, knock on my door at 8h… But where are we going, Javi?” “Será una sorpresa, cariño.” (It’ll be a surprise) - he said.

*

At 8 PM sharp, Javier knocks on your door, wearing that black leather jacket that fits his broad shoulders, black pants, boots and button shirt. He was sweating, but had nothing to do with the weather: that night was, surprisingly, a bit chilly.

You opened the door, with a big smile on your face. His eyes widened when he noticed your pretty dress: a bit different from your work clothes, your dress was short, loose and white, hugging your waist and loose in your hips. 

You two, as a couple, were almost a Yin and Yang picture. 

“You’re gorgeous, cariño.” - Javier recognized.

“Thanks, Javi… You’re not so bad on the eyes yourself.” - you respond. - “Wanna come in for a drink?”

“As much as I’d love to, I’d rather just go… I’ve got no self control, cariño.”

“Okay, lead the way, Javi. I’m quite curious.”

* Javier takes you to a bar downtown, however, he didn’t know that was a reggaeton dancing night. You insisted on staying, as you were eager to see him dancing. 

A few drinks later, you begun your plan:

“Come on, Javier! You’re Tex-Mex… You’re telling me you can’t dance?” - you tease him.

“It isn’t a can’t, it’s a won’t dance.” - he rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Let’s see.” - And you simply get up and start dancing by yourself, luring looks.

Javier was astonished at how bold you were… Your body moved sensually and naturally as the music played.

A random guy tried to approach you, inviting you dancing, and the fire from Javier’s desire turned into a sea of jealousy flames.

As you’re about to turn the guy down gently, Javier finished his drink in one sip and he scared the guy off.

“I thought you weren’t dancing with me, Javi.” - you whisper in his ear, provoking him again.

His hands pulled your hips to touch his, leading you to dance with him. To your surprise, Javier was actually a good dancer. He spins you, making you stay at the same position he fucked you earlier, but with all those clothes dividing you.

“Well, I wasn't, to be honest… But you’re something else, cariño.”

Javier's voice was so full of desire… Since your ex, you couldn’t remember the last time he or any other did that to you. Javier not only expressed you by using words, but by showing you, touching you. 

“Oh my God, Javi… You’re making it so hard…”

“Hard?” - he asked.

“Hard for me to resist you.”

He spinned you, so you could look at him. His eyes were warm, burning for you. At that moment, it felt like only the two of you were there, at the bar, with those sexy reggaeton songs playing.

“Why are you still holding back, cariño?” - he asked, in a tone that made you feel something else in your chest. He wasn't demanding, he wasn't angry. He wanted to understand you, make you feel comfortable with him. One hand was on your waist, holding you against him and the other fondled your face, not letting you look away. You could feel his big body embracing you, holding you firmly, not in a way as if you were fragile, but as if you were precious.

“Javi…” - your voice was nothing more than a whisper. - “How about we continue this somewhere more private? We can go back home… My place or yours?”

“Yours, cariño… Let's go.”

***

Arriving at your place, you both are a bit nervous, not knowing exactly what to say or how to begin an awkward conversation.

“Care for a drink, Javi?” - you ask him, while serving you one more shot of whiskey,

“Sure. Neat, please.” 

“My kind of man…” - you joke, smiling and handing him the drink.

You toast, in silence.

“So…” - you start. - “Are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room or not?”

“Well… We can do it, of course. But if you don't wanna do it right now, it’s okay…”

“We kinda have two options: we could actually talk about it or we could do something more… Interesting, per say…”

“I’m listening, cariño…” - Javier lifted his chin and eyebrows, his eyes full of lust, his mind going through possibilities on what you both could do.

You just look at him with a mischievous smile, not responding to him verbally, also fantasizing all the things you’d wanted to do, without knowing how to begin.

Next

[headingalaxys-spicy]

So how about a Big county Y/n, Eventually Y/n is bigger than Russia 2x More bigger, they Have everything like everything, strong soldier like US, bigger army like China, and Powerful weapon like Russia, even happiest county like Finland [ btw i search it on google ] Dang like they can take The heck out of everyone, their most land or their whole country , even the yandere , so yandere!US, Yandere!Russia, Yandere!China, olso Yandere!Germany... So how would they react and act.. Eventually i am curious about this

- ⛩️ anon

While I can’t write a complete Mary Sue character (to me that archetype gets boring REAL quick) I think I did get pretty close. Afterall all good characters have some relatable weaknesses. I hope you enjoy it! Thanks for your patience ⛩️ anon!

Yandere! America can go either way.

I can see him wanting to join you or plan out your demise. Depending on how many times you beat his ass in a war and how masochistic he feels like being will determine how he may just show up with a “treaty” that's rigged with a ton of caveats that make him seem that he’s in the position of the upper hand when he isn’t. The man's ego is being crushed right now, so go easy on him lol.

You absolutely get on him about some of the issues that he needs to handle, like health care and the quality of life for his citizens. Bro is definitely gritting his teeth and barring it but deep down he kinda just wants to be smoothed in hugs by you. Have you live with him and he lead but for now he can’t really think of a feasible way to do that.

He’ll actually become depressed that he isn’t number 1 in the world and will not show up for awhile. But trust me he’s been obsessively watching every video, news report, magazine cover, etc of you and your many successes. He’s even gone so far as to have some of his FBI agents go to your nation to see if it’s really as serene as the articles and stories make it to be and when they come back to confirm it. It makes him all the more depressed. Eventually, though he’ll come to the conclusion that the two of you should be married so that he can still seem like he’s the one on top. After all he has no intentions of allowing other superpowers like China or Russia to have you first. So the extent that after a few months of him being in a deep depressive haze. He’ll regain that vigor 100% concentrated on having you to himself. That also does mean that he’d go into some crazy war for you in a heated attempt at keep away.

Yandere! China knowledge really is power in his case along with wisdom

Since he’s mature and has seen the likes of this similar to Rome. He’s going to play it cool and not be rash. But on the inside, he’s contemplating how in the hell you got power like that in under the span of 100 years. He is going to do an in-depth analysis of your inception to your current-day success.

At meetings, he will make it a point to ALWAYS sit next to you he will either glare or bribe whoever dared to sit next to you with food, medicine, or better trade deals if they promise to NEVER sit next to you. That right is reserved for him and him alone. He will start building his relationship with you to see if he can extract extra information about your success and plan on if he can try to take you down and claim you for himself so that he can finally beat the likes of America and Russia altogether while having someone as lovely as yourself under his control. He will go out of his way to bring Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner to every conference doting on you and showing how versatile and refined his palette is. He will ask you your preferences and stick to them and they will be at the forefront of what he and his chiefs cook you for every meal. Eventually, he will get more intense by asking if you want to go shopping in Beijing, Sichuan Province, and Guangdong and dressing you in all of the trendiest fashions in China.

Since you tend to have no reason to fear for your own safety, your guard is down. After all, you’re the most powerful nation. But lacking the wisdom about some of the older nations' darker tendencies, you wouldn’t have anticipated that Yao began to poison your food. It’s not like it makes you vomit or anything, but you’ll be exhausted to the point where you’re unable to board a plane and would decide to stay with him for a while longer. After all, he’s being so kind and understanding.

Essentially what’s happened is that his Yandere tendencies have morphed into Munchausen Syndrom by proxy and you’ve fallen into his hands without you really taking notice of it. His wisdom, mixed with crazy yandere tendencies, wins this time.

Yandere! Germany being diplomatic is his forte

He’s definitely bought a few books on your culture, history, art, etc. He does keep track of all your happenings. He’s intrigued by how you were able to accomplish such feats in only the span of a century. He definitely admires your hard work and dedication to the improvement of your society and your people. And yes, he’s bought a book titled:

How to romance a (Insert Country Ethnicity here) for the hard-hearted German. Although learning from his mistakes in previous romance attempts, he does add some nuance and subtlety to his actions.

He’ll always allow you to have the opening comments in the world meetings and the closing comments. He loves hearing your lovely voice and will actively make sure that you have even more speaking time than America, China, and Russia. Blatantly showing his nepotism. He knows that he can score some points with you this way. He always has keynotes for you and what you need in his types up notes before every meeting and he will always ask if you need any help and if he can have some “private” side conversations with you about trade deals, alliances, and if his citizen s could be able to freely roam in your country if he gives you “x”. He’s extremely diplomatic in his attempts to woo you. Even though on the inside, he’s screaming, “Ja! Ja! I get to be closer to (Y/N) than anyone else!”

Slowly he will begin to pry on how you have advanced military technology and how you keep your secrets. He does have a secret notebook where he keeps track of all the things that make you successful and takes note of it. After all, you have to get to know your target well in order to take them down. However, once he figures out that taking you down would only have a 2% success margin he would move to trying to have a permanent alliance with you. So if he’s ever in a pinch, he can depend on his sweet (Y/N) to help him out, and in turn, he’ll be devoted to you in any way that you need.

Yandere! Russia just wants you to hold his hand dammit!

From the start, Russia won’t mince words: He wants to become one with you and you to become part of mother Russia. He’s the most direct about what he wants and he’s lived long enough to know that there are some bets you simply don’t take, and trying to be sneaky, wagging war, or trying to take you down from the underground will lead to issues in the future. So he will be forthcoming about his intense affection for you. After all why be afraid of him if he knows that you could already kick his ass? Heaven's sake, he even leaves his beloved metal pipe of pain at home. To show you that he is dedicated to becoming a good ally to you and that he just wants your attention and affection….

ALL OF IT. However, that does mean that he isn’t above being intimidating to others, particularly America, China, and Germany, during meetings. He tries to hold back that ominous dark aura that he has, and to some degree, it works because it does manage to evade your attention, and he’s able to concentrate it on whomever successfully managed to take the second seat beside you in meetings. (The four of them have managed to create a schedule on who gets to sit next to you and have all made a group chat lightly threatening not to sit next to you ever. All four of these nations understand that they can’t get into a hight level fight over you if they want to stay alive but also not have you intervene. Your disapproval of them in any way stabs them in the heart.) He does sit only about an inch away from you, and sometimes, his scarf will find its way around your neck on occasion in a loving manner.

“Oh, Y/N aren’t you cold, da? I can share my warmth with you.” If we're being honest, his behavior toward you is kinda cute.

He’ll always have some new draft of an alliance for you to look over, and with each attempt, he will bring in a bottle of your favorite booze, a large stuffed Russian polar bear, or other types of gifts. He’s trying to stay in your good graces while presenting himself as a gentleman. He’ll also offer to drive you back to your hotel or ask if you want to see a play with him or gaze at the nighttime sky. He will also take note of your interests and tailor his dates to that. Anything to keep you the hell away from the others. He also has a habit of grabbing your hand ‘by accident’ before the start of every meeting because he likes to feel your warmth. His motto in this scenario: “If you can’t beat them join them!”