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rhoorl · 1 month

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Delta Landscaping: Chapter 15 Lucky Strike

Series Masterlist | Chapter 15 A03 Link

Word Count: 4.4k

Previously on As the Mule Falls: The neighbors met at David and Ty’s house for a Fourth of July party. Despite the guys having a lot of anxiety about it, they ended up having a pretty fun time thanks to all of their new friends. We ticked a few boxes off of our bingo card and laughed as David finally let the intrusive thoughts out. We also got a shy, nervous Benny and some meddling from Will and our favorite FBI agent.

In this Episode: We’re heavy on the Benny in this episode with little sprinkles of Frankie and a flashback of sorts for Santiago. Also, I’m trying to get to fight night so there are some jumps in time. In case you missed it, here is the moodboard for this chapter.

Chapter Warnings: A shoe goes flying at Santiago’s head. There’s some fluff and rom-com vibes and we finish with a little bit of angst with Frankie as he reaches one year of sobriety.

*Cue the theme music and roll opening credits*

Four weeks to fight night

“Good, Ben,” Frankie panted backing away and leaning against the ropes of the boxing ring, “we can take a break.”

“C’mon old man, don’t slow down on me now!” Benny flashed a lopsided grin as he worked the boxing gloves off of his hands.

“It’s not that I’m slowing down…you just seem more…focused.” He eyed Benny with a smirk.

It’s true. Benny had an extra pep in his step today. He got to the gym well before Frankie, claiming he needed to “burn off some energy.” When Frankie arrived, he found Benny in the corner of the gym jumping rope, his shirt discarded nearby on the floor. During today’s sparring session, Benny was on a different level. Every punch connected and he anticipated everything Frankie threw at him, causing Frankie to wince at a few well-placed jabs to the ribs. With the fight only weeks away, Benny was well in ring shape and nearing his peak, which made Frankie breathe a sigh of relief.

Tossing the boxing gloves to the side, Benny reached down to grab his baseball cap, eager to get the hair out of his eyes. “Just feeling good…yesterday was a lot better of a day than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sure it was,” Frankie crossed his arms in front of his chest, watching as Benny grabbed a towel. “Any word on your date?”

“Thinkin’ Saturday…since we were planning on taking Sunday off anyway, figured I could be out late and it wouldn’t be a problem…” Benny’s eyes didn’t quite meet Frankie’s.

“Ben, we can take whatever day you want off,” Frankie chuckled before furrowing his brow at the sight of Benny chewing on the inside of his cheek. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I just…I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t taking this seriously and getting distracted or anything…so I was just waiting I guess until a day I already was free.”

“Hermano, do I think Vanessa is a distraction? Yes, but in the best possible way,” he clasped a hand to Benny’s shoulder. “The past week you’ve been a nervous wreck, timid, and not yourself in here. But today? Today man…you’ll whoop anyone’s ass who steps up to you,” he laughed, seeing the corners of Benny’s mouth curl up. “So she’s distracting you from the bullshit in your head and I think that’s great. She seems like a really sweet girl, Ben.”

“Yeah…I…I really like her Fish,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t wanna fuck this up, you know?”

Frankie tilted his head up and laughed, “Trust me, I get it.”

“Oh shit, sorry man. Ah…how’re things with you?”

With a deep breath through his nose, Frankie took off his hat and ran his fingers through his curls, before putting it back on again. “Well, I was actually wanting to see if I could take next weekend off. Had a thought to surprise her and fly up there.”

“Hey isn’t next week….” Benny trailed off seeing Frankie gaze down to his feet. Making the realization, a huge smile came across Benny’s face, “I think that’s a perfect way to celebrate Fish! I’m proud of you man.”

“So, you have a good night last night? You left the party pretty early with Katie,” Santiago’s eyebrows waggled at Will as they loaded up a wheelbarrow with soil. They’d come up with an agreement with Frankie and Benny to work on Melissa’s backyard, executing their design and giving Benny the chance to concentrate on training.

“We’re just friends Pope…and yes we had a good night, did you?” Will looked over as he set down the shovel.

“Just friends? Wow, you know I kinda saw that comin’ not gonna lie,” he shrugged.

“Fuck off, don’t you have a shoe to dodge or something?” Will snapped as he walked into Melissa’s backyard.

“I guess I deserved that,” Santiago muttered to himself, realizing that Frankie must have spilled to Will that Amaryllis was back in the picture.

To say Santiago and Amaryllis had a dramatic situationship would be putting it mildly. They grew up together in New York as family friends. Neither made a move, although they heavily flirted with each other by the time they got to high school. Santiago had to endure her shitty boyfriends who never treated her well and she had to see him run through every girl in their grade and the ones above it too. She’d finally mustered enough courage to tell him she had feelings for him but it ended up being the same night he told her he was enlisting.

They exchanged letters for a few years, but those eventually stopped. He lost track of her, hearing that she’d gone off to Los Angeles to try her hand at acting or modeling. She landed a couple of small roles here and there. A falling out with a boyfriend caused her to move back to the East Coast, where she reconnected with a couple of Santiago’s cousins whom she was close to growing up. They shared that he was back in town and invited her out. It had been years since they'd seen each other, but her heart raced a bit at the thought of seeing him again.

When she walked into the bar, his eyes immediately met hers and he felt like he’d been run over by a train. She was confident, commanding the attention of everyone as she walked over to him. He longed for some comfort and she did too. The two found themselves locked away in her apartment for the next few days getting reacquainted.

Still, they were both too stubborn and headstrong to admit their feelings. What came next was a tumultuous and dramatic series of back and forths, neither one wanting to make that next step, that commitment. Instead, they found it easier to get underneath someone else rather than face their feelings head-on. They did try to have more, but it failed miserably each time with one of them retreating like a scared dog, unsure who to trust.

The pull to Colombia made for a clean break, at least that’s what Santiago thought. When he came back, he went home for a short while to see his mother and couldn’t help but pass by Amaryllis’ apartment. He sat on the stoop for what felt like hours, debating whether to knock on the door or just send a text. A sudden slam of the door made the decision for him.

“Hijo de puta, how fucking dare you show up here. After three fucking years?” She yelled as he got up and backed away from her. He tried to say something but he couldn’t get any sound out. Next thing he knew he was dodging a well-thrown sandal to the head as she continued to call him every name in the book both in English and Spanish. It was the last time he saw her.

But a couple of weeks ago, he noticed a Facebook message. She made the decision to move down to Florida and wanted to see if he was still there. He debated opening up the message or just deleting it but opted to read it and then go to her profile. She seemed happy, really happy. And noticeably single. So one thing led to another and she made the drive over to Tampa so they could meet for coffee and talk. He knew the guys had their opinions so he opted to keep a low profile about it for as long as he could.

“This is good practice Vandy, I get to do the whole dad spiel about being home before midnight and all of tha- ow!” Marcus ducked as Victoria threw a dish rag at him.

“Leave her alone, mi amor. Come back whenever you want Nessa, or don’t,” Victoria winked as her sister rolled her eyes. “So, what did you guys decide on?”

“I suggested Splitsville. Figured we could bowl and maybe eat, I dunno seemed like a good choice. He was excited about it.”

“C’mon admit it, you also picked it because it’s ‘Insta-worthy’!” Marcus chuckled as he made air quotes with his fingers.

“Oh my god, you’re such a dad,” Vanessa groaned. “Please don’t ever say Insta-worthy again, Buck.”

“Ooo, are you starting up your foodie blog again?” Victoria rubbed her hands together. “You always find the best places.”

“Excuse me?” Marcus brought a hand to his chest, “she’s not the only foodie in this family.”

“Of course, mi amor,” she kissed Marcus on the cheek as he plated the kid’s dinner. “Between the two of you, we always have the coolest spots to check out.”

“Are you sure this looks ok Vic? Not too casual?” Vanessa did a little twirl as Mariella clapped in her high chair.

Figuring out what to wear was always a chore for Vanessa, especially in recent years when she didn’t really care to shop for clothes…or look in the mirror for that matter. She’d changed outfits about 15 times, completely ransacking her closet. The final winner was a pair of dark wash jeans and a well-worn Tampa Bay Rays t-shirt, topped with a flannel. Victoria thought it was a bit unnecessary to wear a flannel in the middle of summer, but knew it was a security blanket for her sister.

“I think you look great, Vandy,” Marcus winked with a soft smile.

Will sat on the couch playing a video game, trying to hide his smile as Benny paced around the living room. “You excited?”

Benny stopped and looked over as he finished buttoning up his sleeve. “Yeah. J called a little bit ago…thought he was going to give me shit…” Benny trailed off rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re excited to see you out there again Bean,” Will paused his game, putting the controller down to walk over and assess his brother’s outfit. “You look like….me…why’re wearing this?” Will grabbed at the front of Benny’s button-down shirt.

“I dunno…I wanted to look nice,” Benny pouted looking down at his outfit.

“Wear what makes you comfortable Ben. C’mon,” with a reassuring pat on his brother’s shoulder, he led him back to the bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed as Benny went through his hangers.

Without saying a word, Benny changed out of his long-sleeve button-down shirt and slipped on a fresh white crewneck t-shirt and black jean jacket. He switched out his boots, put on some sneakers, and grabbed a baseball cap.

“There’s my Bean,” Will smiled. “Feeling better?” Benny nodded as the corners of his mouth turned up.

“Tia Nessa? I wanna see Bunny!” Mariella waddled over to the couch where Vanessa sat.

“Si mi vida, Bunny is coming over soon,” she moved over so Mariella could work her way onto the couch next to her. It was so cute how quickly her little niece had taken to Benny. The past couple of days she’d managed to get home from picking up the kids around the same time Benny was finishing up his run. Mariella would squeal when she saw him and he’d do something silly to make her laugh.

Nico sat quietly coloring with Victoria as they all heard the doorbell ring. Vanessa went to stand up but Marcus intercepted since he was already up. Opening the door, he found Benny shifting from foot to foot with his hands in his pockets.

“Hey there Benny, good to see you, come on in,” he held the door open for Benny to pass through.

“Bunny!!” Mariella quickly got herself off the couch and rushed over to Benny, nearly tripping over her unsteady legs in the process.

“Hey baby girl,” Benny smiled, whisking the little girl off of her feet as she giggled.

She started to babble and Benny looked around the room in the hopes someone could translate toddler.

“She asked if you’re taking Vanessa ‘bye bye’ in the car,” Victoria’s heart melted seeing Mariella bond so quickly with Benny.

“Ohh ah yeah, I guess. Yeah, we’re going to go ‘bye bye’ in the car. But I’ll bring her back, I promise,” Benny winked.

“You, ah, ready to go?” Vanessa got up, grabbing her crossbody from the counter.

Seeing her about took his breath away. She looked effortlessly beautiful, and he suddenly felt less self-conscious about his casual attire.

“Yeah. I…um…can I put you down so I can take your um…Tia…out?” Benny raised his eyebrows waiting for a response. With an enthusiastic nod, he set Mariella down and she ran to Marcus and hugged his leg. “Ah, after you,” Benny put his arm out, gesturing for Vanessa to pass, while wishing the Pikes a good night. He could feel Marcus’ eyes on him so he tried his best to not let his eyes wander as she walked by him.

“Don’t keep her out too late now,” Marcus winked as Vanessa groaned, grabbing Benny’s hand to quickly lead him out of the house before Marcus had another chance to embarrass her.

“Sorry about him,” Vanessa quickly dropped Benny’s hand once he closed the front door. “Buck looks for any chance to give me shit.” She furrowed her brows as Benny followed her to the passenger side of his car.

“It’s alright, hell I’ve done worse to Will,” he chuckled, opening the door for her.

She quickly got in and sat a bit dumbfounded as he sprinted around to his side of the car. It’s not that she hadn’t ever had a man open a door for her, her sister was married to Marcus “Mr. Romance” Pike after all, but it still gave her butterflies and made her even more excited for the night to come.

“So, I have a confession to make,” Frankie said as he sprawled out on his bed, propping the phone against a pillow.

“Ooo mysterious. Tell me more Morales,” Jo quipped. She was nestled underneath a fluffy blanket on her couch for what had become her favorite part of the day - her nightly FaceTime chat with Frankie.

“So, what would you say if I ah,” he ruffled his hair and took a deep breath, “what if I came up there next weekend? I know you’re busy with work and stuff, but I’ll be out of your hair by Monday. You can drop me off at the airport before you go to work, or I’ll take an Uber.” He waited for what felt like an eternity for her to respond, wondering if his Wi-Fi crapped out because she was stuck looking at him. “What do you say mi cielo? I, I don’t have to, if you already have plans-”

“No! I mean yes….I mean, no I don’t already have plans and yes I would love for you to come up here. Are you sure? Doing this so last minute?” She couldn’t help the huge smile that stretched across her face. Being away from Frankie for the past week was torture and the idea of getting to spend a couple of days with him, being wrapped in his arms and hearing his laugh ring in her ears made her downright giddy.

“I’ve been thinking about doing it since you left, so it’s not as last-minute as you think babe,” he winked.

“Well, I am clearing my entire schedule. We can play tourist for a day and then maybe hang out…be lazy, order some takeout, cuddle, ooo and we can watch movies in person rather than one of us being on a delay,” her eyes twinkled as she started to race through various ideas.

Frankie chuckled, he loved it when she got excited and started to ramble. “Whatever we do, I’ll be happy because I’ll be with you.”

“I’m so excited! This next week is going to go by even slower now that I have something to look forward to,” she beamed.

“Are you serious?” Vanessa shook her head, dumbfounded that Benny casually threw a perfect game. Trick shot after trick shot, it didn’t matter, he always got a strike.

Benny didn’t even watch his last shot. He had his eyes on Vanessa as he put his back to the lane and released the ball behind him. Hearing the pins knocked down, he sauntered back over, flashing a boyish grin.

“Ooo yay, the food is here,” he rubbed his hands together, looking at the spread. All of his training had made him build up quite the appetite these days, so he wasn’t shy about ordering his fair share.

“Wait wait!” Vanessa put her hands up to stop him from taking a mozzarella stick. “Sorry, I um…one sec,” She bit her bottom lip, pulling out her phone and then rearranging the plates. Benny looked on confused but also amused, admiring how her brows furrowed as she concentrated on getting everything to look just right.

Pleased with her setup, she started snapping photos. “Sorry…I am one of those people, annoying I know, but I figured tonight was a good excuse to start up my account again,” she didn’t look up from her phone as she took a couple of videos too. “Phone eats first,” she winked before motioning that the coast was clear.

“What kind of account you have?”

“Oh, it’s just on Instagram…I started it a few years back…it’s a fun way to explore the food scene and…sorry this is all boring I’ll stop,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a few nachos.

“No, no, it’s not boring, I like it. I like food, clearly,” he motioned to the four plates in front of him and she snorted. “Lemme see, I wanna follow.” He motioned toward her phone with his chin.

She reluctantly handed him the phone and watched as he scrolled her account. After a few moments, she saw his forehead scrunch.

“What? I know, I don’t always have the best lighting, I’ve been meaning to buy myself a little light thing and - “

“No, hey,” he put his hand on her forearm, which sent an electric pulse up her body. She suddenly felt like it was way too warm for her flannel. “No this is great, these photos are beautiful…I just was wondering where you were.”

“What?”

“I don’t see you in any of these photos. Maybe your hands every once in a while, but how come you’re not in these?” He shook the phone as he turned it back to her.

“Oh…I…um…I dunno I guess I’d rather have the focus be on the food,” she looked down, playing with the straw of her water. The truth of the matter was she was tired of dealing with the random trolls who would end up making a comment about her body or how much she went out to eat. She deleted everything off of her account that had her face in it, opting to showcase the food instead.

“Hmm…” Benny nodded, handing back her phone. He pulled his out and started typing as she looked on with inquiring eyes. “There, you have a new follower,” he winked.

She looked at the notification, trying to steady her breath at how hot he looked in his profile picture. “Holy shit, are you like an influencer or something?!”

Benny looked a bit sheepish, “I started the account when I got into fighting…a way to promote them…and then I just kept posting gym stuff and it grew from there.”

“Well, you have a lot of very loyal fans it seems,” Vanessa smirked as she scrolled through some particularly thirsty comments on his account. Normally something like this would be a complete red flag, especially given her ex’s history, but there was something about Benny’s shy smile that put her mind a little more at ease.

“Pope used to date a girl who did social media stuff for her job so she set it up for me. I don’t post a ton, but it’s there. I’m mostly on there to help keep an eye on my niece, lord knows her dad is a lost cause when it comes to anything on his phone that’s more than making a call,” he chuckled to himself. “But now I’m excited to see your food stuff on my feed,” he smiled.

“Well thanks…I started the account when I lived in Charlotte…gave me an excuse to get around and explore,” she gave a tight smile as she bit into a slider.

“Maybe we can explore some stuff…together?” Benny’s hopeful eyes found hers as she slowed her chewing.

“Um…ok, yeah sure, that’d be fun,” she smiled back. “Although you may regret what you’re signing yourself up for,” she winked.

He regarded her with a lopsided grin. “Oh, I don’t think I’m gonna regret it at all, boss lady.”

Three weeks to fight night

Things around Mule Fall Court settled into an easy routine the following week. Benny and Frankie kept a consistent schedule at the gym. Sometimes Connor would tag along too, although he was trying to soak up the last bits of summer before he and Aria had to head back to school. Meanwhile, Will and Santiago were nearly done with Melissa’s backyard and already looking for their next project. One day as they were cleaning up, Victoria stopped over and they talked about her lawn. They all agreed that it would be a good project to tackle once Benny’s fight was done.

Will found himself hanging out with Katie a few nights so they could finish up the last season of The Mandalorian. He had to admit, he actually really enjoyed it as much as the company he had while watching it. Ever since they established their boundaries as friends, it felt like a weight was lifted off. They were able to just relax and found themselves opening up in ways they hadn’t with another person in years, or ever. Will also decided to treat himself a bit and got a motorcycle. He found riding around, feeling the wind in his face, to be calming.

Katie and Megan made a vow to restart their weekly wine night, adding the usual suspects to the mix. New to the group was Katie’s coworker, Miranda. Like Megan, she was a single mother and rarely took time to do anything for herself. It had taken a few weeks of coaxing but Katie finally convinced her to take Aria up on the babysitting offer and come over for a night of laughs and girl talk – yes, David included himself in that.

Benny and Vanessa hung out a few more times. Thanks to some good-intentioned meddling from Marcus, he recruited Benny to come over and keep Vanessa company while he and Victoria enjoyed a night out to celebrate their anniversary. They played with the kids all night and ordered pizza. Vanessa was thankful to have Benny there since he was able to run around and tire the kids out.

Mariella was adamant that Benny tucked her into her crib and Benny and Vanessa stayed in her room for a while until she went to sleep. Vanessa learned that Benny had a beautiful voice. He sang a lullaby to Mariella to finally get her to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. Settling back on the couch, Benny dutifully listened as Vanessa showed him a few restaurants that recently caught her eye online.

He was still nervous about pushing things too far, but couldn't help but flirt with her. What made him even more nervous was he felt like she was flirting back. He so badly wanted to kiss her, trying his hardest to keep his eyes from drifting to her lips. She moved closer to him, crossing a leg on the couch to face him, laughing at a joke he made. When the laughter died down, she looked at him, trying to steady her breathing. He licked his bottom lip and her eyes betrayed her, looking down as she sucked a breath in. At the same time, they both leaned forward, he brought his hand up to cup her cheek. His lips were near to hers when they heard the garage door, pulling them both away from each other like two teenagers who had gotten caught almost making out by their parents.

With a deep breath, Frankie looked at the calendar hanging on his fridge by a single magnet. This date was one he’d been equally dreading and looking forward to – a year since he flushed the last bit of his stash down the toilet and decided to start the journey of putting all of the broken pieces back together again. It hadn’t been an easy year by any stretch of the imagination, but quietly and steadily he made it to milestone after milestone.

Valeria was the first person to text him this morning. She knew her brother shied away from attention, so she acknowledged the day with a simple I’m proud of you Paco. Love you. She followed that up with a picture of his niece and nephew smiling at the camera, Antonio proudly showing off the gap from the tooth he lost this week.

Jo texted him this morning none the wiser about the significance of this day other than the fact that it meant she was going to see Frankie. It had only been two weeks since their shared flight down to Tampa. Lucille and Valeria had both separately referred to it as the “flight that changed your life” but Frankie hadn't fully embraced that moniker. It had been so long since he’d opened up his heart in this way. He battled with a constant inner struggle between wanting to guard his heart and wanting to jump head-first into this.

This weekend’s trip felt momentous for several reasons, but the biggest was that Frankie planned to tell Jo everything about his past. Although it was under different circumstances, opening up to Lucille and having her embrace him with love and compassion did wonders for him. For so long he’d been in a spiral of self-loathing, thinking that everyone was disappointed by him and that he was a failure. But Lucille cracked the door open and shined some light and he was hopeful that Jo would kick it wide open. The idea of sharing the darkest parts of himself and his past terrified him more than crash-landing a helicopter, but it was something he had to do. He wanted more with Jo and if he had any chance at it, he had to be honest with her.

Next Time on As the Mule Falls: We get closer and closer to fight night. The neighbors host a party to welcome the Pikes to the neighborhood. A little bit of pining and angst. More Cousin Joel phone calls.

A/N: Hi! First, I hope you are still enjoying this series. We have SO many storylines in play with several more to come, I do have a plan for all of this I promise. And all of those eagerly awaiting Cousin Joel (me included), he’s on his way soon. That’s part of the reason why we had some time jumps in this episode. With that being said, I’m going to try something new and do some extras in addition to the episodes. Consider it your extended or deleted scenes if we were watching the box set of DVDs of the season (dating myself with that reference). I’m already planning an extra to show more of Benny and Vanessa’s bowling date along with a one-shot of Frankie’s trip to Atlanta.

Thank you as always for reading, sharing, or sending me a message about this story!

Taglist: @goodwithcheese / @gemmahale / @trulybetty / @noxturnalpascal / @periodtsparadox / @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin / @maggiemayhemnj / @mysterious-moonstruck-musings / @avastrasposts / @meveispunk / @chaoticfestninja / @beboldbebravethings / @casa-boiardi / @katw474 / @linzels-blog / @laughing-in-th3-purple-rain / @pimosworld / @lynnchun / @anoverwhelmingdin /@lilmizmoz / @pedrit0-pascalit0 / @titlee78 / @noisynightmarepoetry / @inept-the-magnificent / @perennialdoll247 / @for-a-longlongtime / @readingiskeepingmegoing / @harriedandharassed / @musings-of-a-rose / @anavatazes / @sherala007 / @midnightraain / @partyofone3414 / @inthedarkestnight / @millennial-teenybopper / @csarab615 / @darkheartgatita / @southernbe / @weho2kcmo / @itspdameronthings / @mclibs23

#triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #benny miller #frankie morales #will miller #santiago pope garcia

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nonclassyparty · 2 months

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tins without labels - chapter 1 (j.wy)

summary: Jung Wooyoung's life was always somehow intertwined with your own. from living in the same neighbourhood as kids to attending the same college; fights, bickering, bruises, teasing comments and tears. Wooyoung and you were never complete strangers but never friends either. Always somewhere in between, growing up with each other but never actually knowing one another. The relationship takes a confusing turn in your third year of college after an injury that places your football career on hold. Lonely, lost and confused, you find yourself at your first college party in the presence of none other than Jung Wooyoung asking him to show you what exactly have you been missing out on. playlist // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

pairing: jung wooyoung x reader warnings: drinking, little bit of kissing, descriptions of erm...male genitalia? cursing, cringe fest you've been warned. !word count: 9.3k taglist: @maru-matt @yawnzshit @mcsalterego @ddaeing @downbadreading @btshook (sorry if i forgot anyone but pls reply if u want to be added!)

previous chapter

(chapter 1; when we feel each other up)

Got different people inside my head, I wonder which one that they like best, I'm done with tryna have it all, and ending up with not much at all

present time (21 and 23 years old);

There was a really ugly drawing framed and hanging on the wall at the doctor's office.

It was a house tilting to one side with three stick figurines whose shoes were far too big next to it with strokes of green thrown everywhere which you presume is supposed to be grass. It was drawn by crayons.

You presume it's an art piece made by the doctor's kid but you hope she realizes early on that her daughter or son doesn't really have a proclivity for the arts.

But then again, maybe they will later on. Maybe they'll stand out amongst their peers and be further encouraged by their parents. Maybe they'll even take private lessons to get better. Maybe they'll get into art school and have the professor praise them up on how their talent is extremely rare. Maybe they'll even win some awards.

And then, maybe someone will break their hand so badly that they never get to hold a brush again.

Alright, now you were just projecting.

But what else is there to do as you sit in the almost sterile office with your dad by your side as the doctor keeps going on and on with a somber expression on her face. You're sure Doctor Son is a nice lady, if you were paying attention you'd maybe notice that she tries to break the news extra gently but you're barely listening.

There's been a lot of "it was more serious than we first thought", "rehabilitation will be a long and steady process", "a new excellent physical therapist works at the sports center on campus so she'll be able to visit him a couple times a week, we've already made sure that he gives all of his attention to her" and the most gruesome one, "another even minor injury and there's a risk of her not being able to walk again."

You don't really have to be paying too much attention to know what the underlined thought is.

No more football.

The persistent ache in your left knee serves a constant reminder of what happened almost four months ago, it was the last game of the season. Little did you know it might be the last game of your measly career.

You refuse to look at your dad, feeling the sadness radiate off of him like it does every time he speaks to any of the doctors you've visited in the past four months.

And it's been a lot of doctors.

The fact that you spent the whole summer at home for the first time since you finished high school didn't help. All he did was coddle you and stare in pity and disappointment. Or try to be overly positive and enthusiastic about your recovery.

You didn't know which was worse.

After the final doctor's appointment before the start of the new semester which you leave with barely saying a word during the almost half an hour you're there, you and your dad get lunch at a dinner just off campus.

The thick holder containing scans, blood tests, surgery papers and whatnot, lies on the table between the two of you and you feel like nothing could cut through the thick silence.

Your dad, of course, tries.

"You can still have an amazing career in education, you know? Your mother was a teacher and she loved her job."

It's just sometimes, your father really doesn't know how to beat around the bush and in this moment, you wish he did.

"Right." Is all you say.

Neither one of you comments on what you both know. Which is that you didn't give a fuck about your major in education. Sure, you had passing grades but that is because you needed to study something to stay on the team and not because you were actually interested.

Football was always the bigger picture, the real goal.

"You can always switch majors?" He offers and you nod again, thanking the waiter when he brings two bowls of noodles to your table.

You don't want to say that switching majors in your third year of college seems like a complete waste, of both money and time.

He sighs and you know he's frustrated with you, you understand it as well but you can't control it. Talking about your career, now that your dream career is over and done with, is an extremely sore subject.

"You know what, you've been working so hard since before you even started college, you deserve to rest."

"I've been resting since May." You respond and he winces at the mention of May. When it all fell apart.

"That wasn't rest. It was recovery." You give him a bland look and he sighs again, "I'm just saying! Maybe you'll discover something else you like to do this semester."

"Doubtful." You murmur, the reality finally sinking in at least a little.

"It's not doubtful at all." Your dad scoffs, taking a slurp of his noodles. "You're twenty-one, your life just begun, I'm sure there are other things to do and new people to meet. You wouldn't know if you never even tried."

"Dad-"

"Get yourself a boyfriend. Go to parties. Find yourself some friends who aren't talking behind your back in the locker room-"

"They weren't my friends-"

"Live your life. Is my point. Don't be cooped up in your bedroom, refusing to see anyone like you were doing the whole summer. Just...try, at least." He is silently begging now and now, it's your time to sigh.

"Fine."

"Who knows...you might discover that football isn't all there is to life."

You go silent at that, embarrassed of your own thoughts on the matter so you just keep them to yourself.

You flip through the pages of the magazine that you've read front to back at least four times by now before throwing it on your bed.

Your dad left earlier this afternoon after you've settled into your dorm and since then you've just been lounging on your bed, trying to busy yourself with knick-knacks that you have lying around so the time could pass faster.

You adjust the ice pack on your knee a bit better and with a soft sigh, your eyes fall on your roommate.

Yunjin was sitting behind her desk that was pushed up right next to your identical one and was busy doing her makeup. Carefully applying a pretty shade to her eyelids as she moves her desk mirror to her liking.

She was getting ready to go to a party no doubt. It was the last Friday before the new semester after all and Yunjin was a frequent party goer from what you could tell in these years living together.

Yunjin and you have been roommates since freshman year and yet, you've barely spoken to each other. Always sticking to your sides of the generously sized dorm room, you guess it's because you don't have much in common with each other that you never tried to be friends.

You didn't know much about her if you were honest, just that she majored in political science, often dyed her hair and had a lot of friends. You were sort of the complete opposites from what you could tell.

But since she kept renewing her contract for the room with you every year, you think it's safe to assume that she at least doesn't mind you all too much.

Just...try, at least.

You clear your throat. Here you go...

"You, uh, you do your makeup really prettily." It's out of your mouth before you know it, you already feel awkward as it is but when your red haired roommate turns to you in surprise that maybe you even spoke in the first place - the awkwardness triples.

"Oh." Yunjin utters with raised brows before a tiny, careful smile settles on her face. "Thank you."

So...now what?

You both stare at each other for a long hard second and you hesitate, thinking it's best to leave it at that. Keeping up a conversation was never your strongest suit either. Now that you think of it, apart from football, you don't have any strong suits at all.

"I, uh, I had a lot of practice." She offers awkwardly, motioning to her face with the eyeshadow brush wedged gently between her fingers.

"Right, yeah, I can totally see that." You nod, surprised that she responded back with something that almost sounds like she wants the conversation to keep going. You clear your throat, "The eyeliner and stuff, seems tricky."

It seems like that was all it took for the ice to disapparate for Yunjin because next thing you know, she's rambling without a plan to stop;

"Oh, that's just at the beginning, the first couple of tries I mean and that goes for everything makeup related or, hm, maybe everything life related as well, wow." Yunjin shakes her head as if life philosophies were certainly not more important than a perfect winged eyeliner, "But anyways, I was looking like a panda for the majority of my junior year in high school." She chuckles at that, not looking embarrassed at all, "Had those thick eyebrows as well, it was a complete disaster. But the longer I wore makeup, the better I got at it and the more I learned what suited my face."

You clutch the pillow in your lap as you diligently listen to her, feeling like a younger sibling watching her older sister get ready for a party.

"People say eyeliner isn't in fashion anymore, like it's an old makeup trend or whatever," Yunjin rolls her eyes at you and you chuckle lightly, shyly because you had no idea what was in trend, "Such bullshit, I'll never stop wearing it. It looks so good on me."

She observes the perfect thin wings decorating her eyelids and almost sighs a little in admiration.

You nod in agreement, not being able to stop yourself, "You have big eyes so the eyeliner frames them perfectly. It suits you."

Yunjin smiles happily, "Right? I totally look like Jihyo from TWICE, right?"

You hesitate, having no idea what Jihyo from TWICE looked like but you don't have the heart to sway her happiness so you just give her a small nod.

You continue to chat, mostly Yunjin talks, and by the amount she seems to have to say to you, you start to think that maybe all this time it wasn't that Yunjin avoided getting to know you because she wasn't interested in knowing her roommate. It seems like she had the idea that you had no interest into getting to know her, so she never bothered.

Once she's done with her makeup and she looks over herself in her precious small round mirror standing on her desk in satisfaction, she turns to you with a glare.

It's not a glare as if you've wronged her somehow but a glare of curiosity and seemingly not taking 'no' for an answer. You raise your brows.

Her glare deepens, one inquisitive but perfectly plucked eyebrow raised, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

"Oh," You huff out, for some reason embarrassed that she's aware you're a complete klutz in that department, "I don't know."

"Hm, why not? You might like it. Makeup is fun!"

"No, I know I'll like it." Your cheeks flush, embarrassment growing at the thought of her thinking that you're one of those girls who thinks she's better for not being interested in makeup. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I just...won't I look stupid?"

"Stupid?" Yunjin frowns as if the idea is ridiculous and maybe it was a little. "Why would you look stupid? I'm basically a pro at this, I wouldn't let you look stupid."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything about your...y'know, skills." You grimace when she continues to stare at you, not really in the mood to disclose that ever since a stupid teenage boy named Son Eunwoo laughed at you at prom for trying to look pretty that you've given up on it as it obviously didn't suit you all that much. "Just, y'know, people will think I look silly if I wear it. It's not my thing...y'know?"

There's a faint moment of silence and you cast your eyes somewhere else as you feel awkward all over again for ruining the relaxed mood. Finally, Yunjin speaks,

"Y/N," She calls quietly, face set in a serious expression when you bring your eyes up to her again, "Do you want me to do your makeup?"

You blink at her a couple of times, mouth parted as she sits in her chair, perfectly curled hair and perfectly applied makeup, and waits for your response.

"I'll go wash my face."

"Yes, you go do that and don't forget to moisturize."

It doesn't take more than twenty minutes for Yunjin to do your makeup. Before she starts, you carefully tell her you don't want too much and she says she'll ask before everything she applies if you want it or not.

And she really does.

She places a little bit of foundation just to cover the natural redness of your cheeks and the couple of small pimples that appeared on your chin. She foregoes contouring because you tell her you don't want that, not sure what's the purpose of it.

She goes a little bit crazy with the eyeshadows though, maybe she notices that you have the most interest in them. Glitter especially. It makes your eyes look glossy, almost wet but you're sure you're not describing that properly.

She even does some thin eyeliner on you, some mascara, brushes out your eyebrows but doesn't fill them out because you tell her you don't like them looking sharp. Some blush, a pretty light orange color that decorates your cheeks in a way that it surprises you by how good it looks on your face. And at the end, some lip gloss to finish everything off.

All through out, you two talk. About school, about your hometowns, about your parents.

It's bonding, you realize.

You never bonded with anyone through makeup before, it was usually over football with Ryujin or gossiping over the people you knew from school because that's what you had in common with her. But football is gone now, so is high school and for years now, so was Ryujin.

It was hard to keep up with a friendship that was out of necessity in the first place, even harder when there's an entire ocean separating you now.

But with Yunjin, although you seemingly have nothing much in common, the conversation just flows with each soft stroke of a brush or pat on the cheek.

"See!" She hands you her round mirror to look at yourself, "You look so good!"

"Oh," You muse out, staring at the reflection, admiring the glitter and shimmer and all the colors you're not used to having on your face, "I like it."

"Now, don't get me wrong!" She warns quickly with her hands up, painted nails glistening under the shitty dorm lights, "You look good without makeup too. Well," She rolls her eyes at herself, "You obviously know that since you don't wear it at all as it is but like, if you sometimes want to wear it, you'll know now that it won't look stupid on you."

You chuckle shyly at her short rant, placing the mirror back on her desk.

You wished Yunjin's words of affirmation would be enough to rid you of all your insecurities regarding makeup or...anything 'girly', they don't but you don't have the heart to tell her that. "Thanks."

She nods in response before checking her phone for the time apparently. She throws it on her bed before clapping her hands, "Well, since you already have your makeup done, you might as well go to this party with me."

That leaves you stumped. You turn to look at her from the chair in front of her desk. Party? "Wait, what?"

Yunjin doesn't even grace you with a look, standing in front of her closet which was flung open as she sorts through different materials and patterned clothes.

"Come on L/N, brush your hair out and get into a pair of jeans that make your ass look great." Her head peaks out from behind the door of her closet, she winks at you, "I'll worry about your top."

You really don't know how this happened. You don't know how you ended up here, in the jeans that hugged your hips and thighs the tightest and in the most preposterously skimpy top you have ever worn with your brushed out long hair falling over your back and your lips tinted a deep glossy red. You were a willing participant in it but you really have no idea how this happened.

"I don't think this is an appropriate outfit." You tell Yunjin as you look over yourself in the tall mirror which you both share. "I don't think this shirt is supposed to be worn like this."

"Actually," Yunjin said as she fixed her skirt in the mirror behind you and paid no mind to your ongoing breakdown, "For the last three months I thought I got scammed by the online shop I ordered that top from because it looked nothing like the photos on me but now looking at you, I'm starting to realize that the online shop is legit and that I simply didn't have the tits to fill it out."

You spluttered about at her commentary as you stared at the outfit, wondering if it would be rude to chicken out on her now.

Your light blue denim flare jeans and white sneakers looked totally acceptable. They were yours after all.

The shirt, the offending bright red sleeveless low cut crop top that almost had your boobs out completely for the whole entire world to see, on the other hand, was certainly not.

You don't think you've ever worn something so short, so tight, so...revealing. In your life.

It's not even that you felt uncomfortable in it, really, you thought you looked hot but it just....wasn't You.

And at that point, you had to remind your self very strongly that you had no idea what You actually was. Football was no more (at least for the near future but you have an inkling it's for forever) and maybe the you that was tied to it and that the rest of your small world knew should rest for a little bit while you explore what other you's are there.

Beats moping around and feeling sorry for yourself, at least.

Yes. You will try your hardest not to care what anyone else might think tonight. You looked good. Sexy as fuck, as Yunjin said.

It wasn't all she said. Yunjin, as you begin to find out in the last hour you've actually spoken to her, is the best when it comes to making a girl feel good about herself.

"God, Y/N, your body is crazy." You hear her say as she pulls your hand away from your stomach that was bare since the skimpy shirt or jeans didn't cover it. She stares at your abs. "Do you still workout?"

Still. Meaning she also knows you're a retired athlete at only twenty-one years of age. Once again, you have to try your best to not let that reminder dampen your mood.

"Thanks." You respond clearing your throat, giving her a weak smile. "Yeah, I workout five times a week."

You don't mention the physical therapy you're about to start next week or the fact that all your workouts are under strict supervision ever since the injury happened. That, starting from next week, two other people will be responsible of you staying in shape.

It's so pitiful, you're so used to doing everything on your own.

"Five?!" Yunjin's jaw drops before she scoffs, looking at her body in the mirror with overly critical eyes.

Yunjin seemed to be naturally on the skinnier side, she didn't have any muscle built up. Not like you, years of doing football made your physique change, your body looked amazing - you were aware of that. Personal trainers, coaches both male and female told you so at least....'Defined thighs, defined stomach, toned arms...'. You heard enough about your body to know that it looked good.

It took years of sweat and regular gym hours to make it that way though and you feel bad that Yunjin seems to be comparing it to her own.

"When I was in my best shape, I had a whole team of people working with me from diet to workouts, that includes my coach as well." You chuckle lightly, as she turns her eyes from her stomach to you, "Everyone was expecting me to go pro so...The university invested a lot in me."

You force out another laugh, not trying to turn an attempt to stop the comparisons into a pity party. "Even now when I won't be playing, I'll have two people working with me."

When all you get in return is a dumbfounded stare, you groan feeling like you read the situation incorrectly. Your social cues still need some catching up to do.

So, there's nothing left to do when you feel so uncomfortable but ramble and it's what you do best, you will be quick to learn.

"This is stupid, I don't know if that's what you were doing and I'll feel like shit if I say it but ended up assuming it wrong but I'll say it anyway just in case; if you were comparing yourself to me, don't, I had professionals working with me for the past three years. Professionals that are extremely expensive and finished schools and shit to learn how to make people look hot and fit, so...." You trail off, avoiding her eyes at all cost and scratching behind your neck awkwardly.

The silence is so long that it almost wills you to run out of the room and maybe ask for a permanent roommate change, just to beat Yunjin to the punch. Instead, you hear a stifled giggle.

You glance at her just to see your roommate bite back a grin.

You huff, cheeks turning red from the embarrassment because you barely speak but when you do, it's really almost always complete and utter shit, as you try to hide your own smile.

"You're a nice girl, Y/N."

"Yeah, yeah." You huff, always terrible at taking compliments, "So are you, I guess."

She snorts at your awkwardness but doesn't further comment on it as she rummages through her jewelry box and pokes big hoop earrings on.

"And you can keep that shirt if you want...God, I hate you big boobed bitches." You let out a surprised laugh at that as she rummages some more through her jewelry box. "Do you have any earrings for yourself? I'd offer you a necklace but I think it's hotter if your neck is bare honestly."

"Um," You approach your desk and pull out your mom's jewelry box with a humble amount of items in it. You show her your tiny golden hoops, "What about these?"

"Yeah, those are great. Put those on and let's get ready to go, Chaewon might be dancing on tables by now."

As you lock the door to your dorm and turn to leave, Yunjin intertwines your arms as you both walk down the hall crowded by college students either going in or going out.

New girl friend, not so bad, you think to yourself.

Chaewon is not dancing on tables when you get there. You don't exactly know who Chaewon is but there's nobody dancing on tables in the crowded frat house you've walked into. You don't know anyone there, you thought you might see some girls from your team at least despite not getting along with them the best but you don't.

Yunjin, on the other hand, seems to know everyone.

She greets every living soul in the dusty, stuffy living room and every living soul greets her back. You guess it's safe to say that your roommate slash new girl friend is very popular with the party crowd at your campus.

As it's your first ever college party, you just follow her around like a lost puppy but she never makes you feel like a lost puppy, instead, she introduces you to every person that comes to chat with her even though you can hardly remember their names. You appreciate that more than you'd like to admit.

You end up in the kitchen which is less crowded but still has a handful of people in it where Yunjin shoves the classic red party cup in your hand and clinks it with her matching one, telling you to drink up.

At least you're not a complete virgin in this area. You drank before, you weren't an expert or anything because alcohol is limited for athletes but still, it's one of the first 'not first's of the night.

You meet Chaewon who is bubbly and cute with her bob and sparkly eyes. She's not nearly as drunk as Yunjin led you to believe she would be. When you comment on it, Chaewon smacks Yunjin's arm jokingly.

"You've made the girl think I'm an alcoholic or something." She scolds your roommate with a smirk before turning to you, smile back to complete innocence, "I don't even drink that much, Y/N. Honest."

Yunjin comes closer to mutter in your ear, "She's a liar, it's just that she's trying to be sober to see if the guy she's into comes alone tonight."

"Oh!" You nod and give Chaewon a reassuring smile as she goes beet red in the face and glares at Yunjin who continues to tease her.

You were about to tell Yunjin that you much prefer the crowd in the kitchen than the living room area and that you'd hope to stay here a bit more but you don't get a chance to.

Loud hoots echo through the kitchen and you turn your head to see what the ruckus is all about only to see the bane of your very existence walk in with a wide smile along with a group of other guys, greeting everyone like he's the king of the world and with the way everyone in the room treats him - he might as well be.

Of course. Of fucking course, Jung Wooyoung would be considered the life of the party.

He can be! You don't give a fuck! But why did it have to be the first party that you are attending.

You try to hide your scowl by taking another sip of your drink, trying your hardest not to let your eyes trace his movements from the other side of the kitchen island but one second your eyes are coasting over his ridiculous outfit (which he looks damn near scrumptious in but that's besides the point and something you will never admit that you ever thought about for even a second) and the next thing you know - his eyes are meeting yours.

You quickly whip your head to stare into the living room, feeling the edge of the counter dig into your back.

Yunjin and Chaewon are talking about something, laughing loudly through the noisy room and you're trying to hard to keep up with their conversation but that turns out to be impossible now that you're aware of a certain menace lurking about.

And lo and behold, quickly enough he skulks away from his group of friends and sneaks up to your side in three long strides.

"Well, well, well, do my eyes deceive me or is this Y/N Y/L/N at a frat house party?"

You stand rigid as his clothed elbow brushes your bare one but otherwise don't give him any further acknowledgement. Yunjin, from your freshly learned discovery is ever the social butterfly, grins with an eyeroll.

"Don't be a dick, Wooyoung."

Oh. Oh.

Yunjin knows Wooyoung. Well, that makes just about everything a thousand times worse.

"What? I didn't say anything." Jung Wooyoung defends with a smug smile from next to you before giving Chaewon a charming (or at least what might be charming by some people's standards, definitely not yours or anything) smile. "Chaewon, hello."

She stifles a laugh, "Hi, Wooyoung."

You're irritated to the highest degree for some reason.

Why were you never on the receiving end of his charming smiles? Again, charming by some people's standards. Let it be known, it's not by yours. Not that you want to be on the receiving end of any kind of Jung Wooyoung smile but just...why aren't you ever?

"Can't believe you two managed to get babyface over here out of her room for once." He comments and for a second you have no idea who he's referring to. Until Chaewon laughs lightly again before motioning towards Yunjin.

"That's all Yunjin. I just met Y/N, actually."

"Lucky you." Wooyoung adds and only after his second mischievous glance do you realize they're talking about you.

"Babyface?" You turn to him, growing outraged as his lips stretch into a wide grin. What is it with him and these weird nicknames which all contain the word 'baby' in them. What happened to calling you a troll like he did in middle school and moving about his night?

He shrugs, "I reckon it's better than crybaby."

"You reckon?" You scoff, not being able to stop yourself. Not even a full minute with him and you're already showcasing the gnarly childish side of yourself to girls you were hoping would become your friends. "Wow, how many years of college and you're finally using big words, Jung."

Wooyoung, for reasons you could never wrap your head around, looks positively delighted at your quip. "If you think 'reckon' is a big word then I have no further comments, Y/L/N."

You flush a deep red at that as a glare fully sets down on your face, aimed entirely towards him now. He bites his lip to stop himself from laughing which only makes you grow redder.

"So, you two know each other?" You forgot for a split second that the two of you were in the presence of your new friends. Yunjin stares at you with brows raised.

With a solemn sigh, you respond, "We were neighbours."

"We still are." Wooyoung adds, cozying up to you further. You watch in contempt the way his shoulder brushes yours and his arm lays on the kitchen island behind you, one wrong move and his arm would be around your waist. Seriously, why is he so damn close?

To your own embarrassment, you find yourself not moving away, liking his warmth and whatnot. Maybe, he smells nice as well. Just a little bit. Something citrusy and delicious. Whatever.

"Oh?" Yunjin asks, looking awfully too interested in your relationship with Wooyoung. Not that there is a relationship. Your brows furrow as you observe the way she silently communicates with Chaewon.

"What?" You ask, lost entirely.

Chaewon gives you the same, overly enthusiastic smile, "Oh, nothing."

Wooyoung's chest shakes against you from silent laughter about something you must've missed and you turn to glare at him. He didn't do anything, you just felt like it.

A couple of minutes of conversation pass and you find yourself even enjoying it, despite the little nuisance stuck to your side. It's been awhile since you hung out with anybody, you never thought you even needed it but you think you understand now the hype around these college weekend hangouts.

Until it somehow dips to Yunjin and Chaewon ditching you.

"Y/N, remember that guy Yunjin was talking to you about? The one I have a crush on?" You nod as Chaewon talks against your ear, "Well, he just got here and Yunjin and I will go say hi to him."

"Oh, I'll come with!" You say pathetically before Yunjin loudly exclaims "NO!"

"No, Y/N, you stay right here with Wooyoung, okay?" She motions to the guy next to you, "You two seem to have so much in common!"

She's giving you a weird smile, overly wide, overly excited and you have trouble reading what she's trying to tell you, not knowing her nearly enough to be able to read girl code already.

You can barely get a word in and they're already gone, whisked by the living room crowd and you're stuck with Jung Wooyoung of all people by your side, feeling completely and utterly stupid.

They...ditched you? Did Yunjin regret inviting you? Did she find you embarrassing? Maybe you should just go home.

A deep sigh is heard by your side and you're once again reminded with who they left you with.

"Y/L/N, they didn't ditch you. They don't hate you or whatever it is that you scrambled up in that big head of yours, they're trying to set you up with me." Wooyoung lazily explains from your right and you turn to look at him like he's crazy. What surprises you more than his statement is the fact that he's actually sticking by your side.

"What? Set you up with me?" You scoff, crossing your bare arms over your chest, "Don't be ridiculous."

He snorts, "You'd rather think they ditched you than trying to get you laid?"

You go silent at that. Laid. How preposterous. How insane and how ridiculous.

It's another thing that you're a complete virgin to. Literally and figuratively. You've never went with a boy past a clumsy make out session. Get laid, you scoff inwardly, how silly.

Suddenly, you're aware of a pair of eyes on the side of your face and you're not surprised to find Jung Wooyoung staring at you in amusement. With all your defenses up, you ask, "What?"

His eyes twinkle with mirth. "I didn't say anything."

Another moment of silence between the two of you passes. Some guy comes to greet Wooyoung, he gives you a small nod in greeting which you return and after some small talk between the two of them he walks away, leaving you two alone once again in the middle of the semi-crowded kitchen.

Wooyoung inches closer to you again, mirroring your stance now by leaning against the island with his back. "Is being alone with me that scary that you refuse to talk?"

"Scary?" You scoff again, it's all you seem to do in his presence, without even looking at him. "Don't flatter yourself too much, Jung, you're not nearly as intimidating as you like to think you are."

"Who said I thought I was intimidating?" He asks calmly, enjoying the way you're riled up for no apparent reason.

You don't answer his question, aware that you're being a bitch for no reason. But it's his fault if anything, years of juvenile fights made Jung Wooyoung bring out the worst in you.

"These parties don't seem like they're all that." You comment, more to yourself than anything but he's obviously listening so you decide to include him in the conversation. "Don't you get bored of them?"

Wooyoung hums from next to you, lightly swaying to the music from the living room as he hands you a cold cup of...something and takes one for himself as well. It feels weird that he actually is sort of attentive by getting you a drink when he noticed your empty cup on the island. You decide not to dwell on it too much.

"Bored? Not really, they get repetitive but there's always something fun to do." He responds, mouth quirking up as he looks down at you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips just in time for his tongue to swipe across his bottom lip. You look away quickly.

Clearing your throat, for the life of you, you have no idea why you nod to a couple in the corner right next to the kitchen almost having intercourse against a wall. "Like that?"

Wooyoung snickers and you feel yourself flush slightly but you blame it on the drink which is...much better than whatever Yunjin handed to you at the beginning of the night. "Don't blame people for having fun, Y/L/N."

You turn to him with your nose crinkled, "That's your idea of fun?"

Wooyoung seems a bit surprised and yet strangely intrigued by the course of the conversation. Maybe you are too but in this moment, it feels all too exhilarating with him being so close and you being a complete and utter virgin and all. God, if Chaewon and Yunjin left you here in hopes of getting you laid, maybe they were right.

There's no reason to be acting like this around Jung Wooyoung.

Honestly, what is wrong with you Y/N? Maybe you really should fuck someone. You'd stop thinking about Jung Wooyoung this way and lose your virginity at last.

Two birds with one stone.

"I know lots of ideas of fun." Wooyoung starts before he gives you that devastating grin of his that you despised even as a lovesick teenage girl as he subtly nods to the couple, still at it in the corner, "That is one of them. Although I'd at least take it up to one of the bedrooms upstairs."

Your nose crinkles in disgust again at the thought of the state of the beds in these dirty testosterone filled frat houses. "Gross, they probably don't even change the sheets."

"My apartment is two blocks away." Wooyoung adds, a little too quickly in your, once again completely virgin, opinion. "I always have that option as well, y'know?"

You blink a couple of times, staring at the kitchen tiles as you start thinking that you're not talking about his ideas of fun only anymore.

Was he-? Is he trying to-? No. No way. Do not.

"Right." You say quietly, taking a tiny sip of your drink before smacking your lips.

There is no way that in any shape or form Jung Wooyoung is attempting to flirt with you.

He's quiet for only a couple of seconds before two other guys approach him, doing those weird half hugs half handshakes that assholes like Jung Wooyoung use to greet their friends. Which he seems to have a bunch of. Mr. Popular he is.

While they converse, your eyes are still stuck on the couple making out in the corner of the room and to not seem like a complete and utter creep, you draw your eyes away from them into the living room where...all you seem to see are couples.

Flirting. Kissing. Grinding on each other (Gross). Humping on the couch (Double Gross, you're sure people use that to sit on ordinary days). Clumsily walking up the stairs with their hands already on each other's clothes (Triple Gross). They're all going to have sex!

Meanwhile, you're a virgin. Not by choice either, if it were up to you you'd grab the first guy you see right this second and let him fuck you just to get it over with. It's not like you're saving yourself for someone special or anything. Too bad that they all seem to be taken one way or another and the only guy you've spent the whole night talking to is-

Wait.

Nononono.

But-

Wait.

You turn to observe Jung Wooyoung by your side, who is still talking to his two buddies. None of them paying you any mind.

As you mentioned before, there was a general consensus going around that Jung Wooyoung was good looking. You've seen him only a handful times since that night he dropped you off home after prom even if you're both on the same campus but you can admit (although you'll outwardly deny it if anybody asks) that he has gotten even hotter.

His face lost all of his baby fat with years that went by, his jawline got sharper and lips plusher. His eyes were expressive and the mole under one of them was cute. His hair was still long, you don't know if he cut it after prom night and just let it grow out again or if this was simply the length her preferred, now all black but it suited him immensely.

He had nice hands as well. Veiny hands, long fingers with nice and tidy nails. And you might've called his outfit ridiculous but you only did it to fulfill your role as his self-appointed enemy, it wasn't that ridiculous. Just a pair of baggy jeans and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up. You guess he knows that he has sexy hands. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, making sure to showcase the naturally tanned smooth skin underneath and a necklace decorating his collarbones.

This...whore.

A man that plays up his good physical attributes this well could be nothing else but a man that gets around a lot.

When you notice that you've spent a good two minutes doing nothing but checking Jung Wooyoung out, you notice that his two friends have left already and he's holding his red cup while staring at you with an amused smirk on his face.

"What now?" He asks and you part your lips before licking them, almost shivering when you catch Wooyoung following the action closely.

Well, your dad did say that should live your life and try at least. His words, not yours!

Although when he said them, you are most definitely sure your dad didn't think you'd ever be applying them when asking Jung Wooyoung to take your virginity but what he doesn't know won't put him in an early grave.

You are twenty-one years old and among a lot of other things, you are horny. It's time to get a move on.

"I'm going to ask you something now and for once," You let out a soft sigh, eyes fluttering shut as you can't believe you're about to do this before opening them to level Jung Wooyoung with an open stare as you inch closer to him to make sure he can hear every word, "Just this once, I ask of you, nicely, to not be a dick about it. If you're not up for it, just...just let me down gently. Don't laugh at me, please, just tell me no and we'll forget it ever happened."

All traces of amusement leave Wooyoung's eyes after your all-too-honest speech and he turns to rest his hip against the kitchen island to be face to face with you. He looks serious and asks quietly, "What do you wanna ask me, Y/L/N?"

You take a deep breath, feeling undeniably nervous under his heavy gaze. "Those ideas of fun you mentioned before, the ones involving your apartment...."

Wooyoung presses the rim of the cup against his lower lip, teeth gently grazing it before he takes a sip. He nods, looking a little confused as he swallows, teeth coming back to bite on the cup.

"Mind showing me?"

It takes him a second to catch on but when he does, it only takes another second for the mischief in his eyes to triple and lips placed against the rim of his red cup to stretch into a wide breathtaking smile.

Wooyoung had an inkling of an idea where the course of the night would take him when he first left his apartment. Have a drink or two, mess about with the guys for a few hours and maybe if he was up to it, find someone to take home.

But this... if someone told him this would happen, he'd burst out laughing and call that person crazy. Insane. Deranged. A lunatic.

Really, he had no idea how the hell this happened.

This being two handfuls of your jean-covered ass in his hands, tongue shoved deep into your mouth as he pushes you against his hallway wall and swallows every tiny sound you make while your hands tug and rake through his hair.

He's pretty sure your dark red lip gloss is all over his cheeks from how messy and rushed the kissing is. Everything tastes like artificial cherries, a taste too sweet for Wooyoung's liking accompanied by a tinge of vodka and lemonade that you've both been drinking.

Your hands are soft when they run over his jaw and latch onto his shoulders, he swallows another surprisingly sweet whine of yours and slips a leg between your thighs. Embarrassingly enough, Wooyoung is already hard and once his hands slip from your ass to your hips just to feel the way you move them as you grind against his thigh - he fears he might finish in his pants.

Yeah, if at the start of the night someone told him that Y/L/N Y/N would be dry humping him in the hallway of his small studio apartment after he went out of his way to keep her company at a party, he surely would've dialed the nearest psychiatric institution to take that person in for much needed treatment.

When you reward him with a whimper that goes straight to his dick for placing a kiss underneath your ear, Wooyoung starts coating your neck in slow hot kisses and bites that leave you trembling in his arms.

He's been (as subtly as he could) staring at the naked skin that your shirt revealed for the majority of the night anyway so, truly, this isn't much of a chore for him.

When his teeth gently graze your clavicle, he pulls away for just a moment and realizes he's finally gotten a front seat view of your tits.

Jesus Christ.

When the fuck did you become hot?

Wooyoung always found you cute at most. And fine, he thought you were pretty too that night he drove you home from your prom night. But that's where it all ended. He didn't think about you all too much in any other way given your history and barely saw you as it is.

Looking at you now...your hooded eyes that glittered around the corners. Flushed cheeks and heavy breaths that made his head spin. Disheveled long hair that fell down your back and that he wanted to tangle his fingers in (which he quickly did as soon as that thought appeared, no time like the present!). And those fucking tits covered with nothing but a sorry excuse for a shirt that clung to your torso.

Wow.

It really must be true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

Although there's little heart involved in this situation and a whole lot of thinking with his dick.

He pulls the thick strap of your top a little and watches at it smacks against your skin gently. You keep quiet, breaths still heavy as you watch him.

"This shirt is fucking ridiculous, Y/L/N."

No time left for talking, his fingers curl around your waist again as he bends down to place kisses against your chest. You both probably smell like smoke, sweat and booze but there's a soft layer of vanilla mixed into it the closer he gets to you and Wooyoung finds himself not minding the combination.

"I-It looks bad?"

It's the first words you've spoken since you stumbled into his apartment and Wooyoung has to pause, almost in disbelief. His first reaction is annoyance, not pegging you as the type of girl to fish for compliments by acting insecure even though she knows very well she looks delectable.

But then, the more he stares, the more he notices the way you twitch in his hold, shifting your gaze around his face in order to avoid his eyes, his annoyance disappears. You are insecure about the shirt. You are genuinely wondering whether or not it looks good on you.

And Wooyoung is nothing, if not ready to please at all times.

"I wanna drag it off of you with my teeth." He says the honest truth, hating the way his voice is low and husky. What the fuck is he doing. Why is he breathing so heavily?

The blush that overtakes you doesn't stop at your face but slowly curls around your neck and appears at the top of your chest. He hums, satisfied with the reaction he got before going back to business.

The business being your marvelous tits.

With his hand still curled around your waist as he lowers down so his forehead is basically resting on your bare chest, he groans once he thumbs over your left breast and feels a hard nipple under the material.

"Are you not wearing anything under this?" He murmurs against your skin, groaning again once he feels your fingers intertwine with his hair. Wooyoung doesn't wait for a response but roughly pulls one of the thick straps down your arm and places a hand over your naked breast feeling its weight in his hand.

Jesus fucking Christ.

He thumbs at your nipple, liking the soft moan that escapes you at the action as you continue to grind against his clothed thigh.

"Y-Yunjin said it didn't need a-a bra." You stutter out through a whisper and he places a soft kiss to the middle of your chest as if to soothe you before returning his attention to what's really important.

God bless Yunjin then. Wooyoung should remind himself to buy her that chicken sandwich she likes so much tomorrow morning.

His thumb rubs over the hard pink nipple one last time before its enveloped by his lips, tongue twirling around it and arm tightening around your waist as your breath hitches and you twitch even more in his hold.

When you let out a high pitched moan once his teeth gently graze the soft bud, Wooyoung thinks he'll send Yunjin a whole damn buffet to her dorm.

Wooyoung releases your nipple with a 'pop' that makes you groan lewdly and he scrambles to stand up to his full height to get the offending red shirt off your body.

"Off." He mutters and you quickly grab the ends of the shirt to pull it off, needing Wooyoung's help since it was genuinely so tight on your torso.

With your hair disheveled even more now and bare chest on full display, Wooyoung almost kneels down in front of you.

His dick ached.

"Oh my fucking God." He mutters, burying his face into your chest as he licked and kissed and sucked and...

"Bed." You whisper through a moan, tugging at his hair. You grit out almost bossily, "B-Bed!"

"Bed?" Wooyoung looks down on you in confirmation, body now completely pressed against yours and when he sees your wide, desperate but sure eyes, he quickly nods. "Bed."

His lips are back on yours again, hand grasping at your jaw as he pulls you from the wall and leads you further into his studio apartment. The bed was only a couple of feet away anyways.

You grunt against his lips as you trip over something and he pushes it away with his foot (it was a sneaker that fell out of place as he was getting ready in a hurry), continuing to lead the way to his bed.

"You take off your shirt too." You whisper, almost shyly which causes something warm to swirl in his stomach. He obeys quickly, dropping his shirt to your feet before pulling you in with a hand at the back of your neck, biting at your lower lip and letting out a small laugh as you gasp.

"Pants too." You add innocently and he huffs, growing amused at your bossy nature even in the bedroom.

So, of course, he'll be a little shit about it.

Wooyoung drops himself on the bed, thanking God he changed his sheets this morning, and obnoxiously spreads out his legs. He observes you with a tilted head and a grin on his face, "Why don't you take them off?"

You lick your lips at the request, feeling like it's awfully hot in the room despite the fact that you're not wearing a shirt. You without a shirt in front of Jung Wooyoung with your tits on full display was another thing that you weren't ready to unpack just yet.

He's beautiful.

Wooyoung's skin is a pretty color of fresh honey and you carefully step closer, between his legs, to place a hand on his firm chest and feel his velvety skin. He watches your every move with hooded eyes, holding himself up with his arms placed behind him on the bed.

There's a tattoo on the side of his ribs, one that you would never know about unless you see him like this, so you run a thumb over it in admiration. Still, you don't want to take too long at the risk of coming off as weird, so with all the bravery you can muster - your hand drops to the button of his jeans and you gently (because of your fucking knee) lower yourself down to sit between his legs.

You thumb it open and pull the zipper down, shivering at the way Wooyoung's lips part and he softly exhales in what seems to be anticipation. You further flush when you finally get to see the outline of his....well, his dick.

You felt it against your hip, when you were kissing by the entrance door but you didn't have the guts to ever look down.

When Wooyoung lifts his hips up to help you get his pants off, you realize you're about to see it now anyway.

Clearing your throat, you curl your fingers around the waistband of his jeans and underwear all at once and pull it down. If Wooyoung notices how clumsy you are with it, he decides not to comment at least.

And there it is. His dick. A dick, first of all. The first dick you've ever seen in your life that wasn't through the screen while watching a bad porn video.

You don't stop pulling on his pants until they're pooling at his ankles without breaking stare with his...penis.

You don't really know what you expected if you're being honest. You never thought a dick would be pretty and...it's not exactly ugly either. Just, odd looking you suppose.

You can't tell if it's either big or small as you have nothing to compare it to. Maybe average? What is considered small? You're scared what a big dick looks like if this is a small one. Or even average one. It's kind of thick though which is worrying, you don't even notice the way your lips part as you imagine how exactly is this...thing supposed to fit anywhere inside of you.

There's neatly trimmed hair at the base of it and the tip is flushed, a thick vein running at the underside of it and two-

"Uh," It's like a sound of a scratched record as you freeze, "Your first time seeing a dick or something, Y/L/N?"

Your head slowly lifts from his lap and up to his face where a Jung Wooyoung awaits with raised brows.

It's only then that you realize you've been examining this guy's dick like he was at a doctor's appointment instead of trying to get him off.

You're at a little loss of words to be honest and for a split second you're worried that Jung Wooyoung will take your stutters of "I, uh" and "Um"'s and "Uh, hm"'s the wrong way and think you're impressed by him or something. You're not, once again, you have nothing to compare it to. You barely know what you're looking at right now.

His facial expressions go a little like this in the next twenty seconds: Cockiness (that quickly fades though), Confusion and last but not least Realization.

"Oh my God, it is?!" He laughs in disbelief before his eyes grow even wider and mouth continues to hang open. He quickly places a pillow laying on his bed over his lap, to shield his manhood from the big bad scary virgin apparently, "You're a virgin?!"

It feels like a punch to the gut and you flush a deep red, already scrambling up to your feet and shielding your bare chest. While you try to find that damned crop top, Wooyoung is still rambling in the background.

"There's no way! Wow, seriously you've never had sex before?! Never?! Wow, there's no way! Wait, why are you putting your shoes on-"

You refuse to turn towards him, pathetic tears of embarrassment already welled up in your eyes and bottom lip wobbling, "Uh, I'm gonna go."

"Wait, what? Why?" You hear shuffling behind you and you assume he's trying to get back into his jeans.

You quickly slide your second sneaker on and are flinging the door open, not looking back. "I have to go. I'm sorry, bye."

"Sorry? What are you- Will you just wait a fucking second for me to put my clothes back-" The door falls shut and you're stalking down the hallway of the apartment building, trying to get as far away from his door as you can.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

What were you thinking? Kissing Jung Wooyoung, going home with Jung Wooyoung, doing anything with Jung Wooyoung. What were you thinking?

You cry only a little when you get back to your dorm. Really, it's only a little, just a couple of flimsy tears.

Then you scrub the makeup from your face and change into your pajamas. Yunjin still isn't back and you're angry at her too, for bringing you to that party in the first place. For leaving you with Jung Wooyoung as well.

You're angry and embarrassed. And on top of that, you're horny too.

Why did Jung Wooyoung have to be such a good kisser? Why did his hands have to feel so nice? Why was he so beautiful?

You huff, buried deep in your sheets and all ready to go to bed but sleep just isn't coming. You're too busy thinking about the guy you've sworn not to think about at all anymore.

It was going so well these last two years.

With another huff, you cover your face with your pillow and scream at the top of your lungs.

He tasted like lemonade.

#ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung imagine #wooyoung smut #wooyoung angst #wooyoung fluff

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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

Text

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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look-at-the-soul · 1 year

Text

Make your heart my home

Tommy Shelby x reader

⚠️ Y/N’s background is a bit hard so be aware

🥰 I’m in a romantic spree so your coffee/tea won’t need any extra sugar after this 😉 massive thanks to @lyarr24 for the help to build Y/N’s background your input always allows me to write such a diversity 🌷

Wrote this story for @raincoffeeandfandoms 2.2k followers celebration 🎉 (rain theme) congratulations my dear Flor!!! I’m sure you’ll get many more followers in no time, thank you for your incredible ideas and stories, for filling my days with moments to take my mind off everything 💐🌷🌻🪷

Thank you, @acewritesfics for creating this moodboard for your celebration!!! You inspired me to finish the story 🥰

Stopping to catch your breath, you didn’t know how long you’ve been walking.

Feet sore and swollen from walking miles through dirt, the woods, small rocks, the shoes you found in a trashcan were now almost wore out, you could feel the holes and something poking your skin and that’s when you realized that heaven was pouring down.

It could’ve just started, it could’ve been hours, you didn’t know anymore, your mind went blank the moment you overheard a conversation that changed everything and crushed down your whole world.

You were lucky that day, you also found some clothes someone threw away that looked too big for your malnourished frame, but a few fixes after and you had a whole new outfit.

People rushed under a newspaper or whatever they had to cover their heads, but you wanted to feel the drops falling against your skin.

Taking in your surroundings, you didn’t recognize anything around and it was dark now.

As the rain started bucketing down, you came to the realization that you didn’t have anything or anywhere to go, you’d have to pass the night on the street. And this was happening because of your abrupt escape. You needed to keep going.

Tears mixing with the rain, loneliness was all you got now.

But running away was the only option you had, and this was much better than you used to have, what you’d get if you stayed there, back in Durham.

Defeated, your legs couldn’t support you anymore and you fell on your knees to the ground. A loud sob escaped your lips.

Feeling the cold surface against your face, something warm covered your damp back.

“Miss, are you alright?” You heard a deep voice ask next to you. “Can you hear me?”

You tried to move the hair away from your face, failing in the process.

“Arthur!”

Something strong lifted you up. Soon you entered a warm place, it smelled like tobacco.

“Tom, who’s this?” Someone asked, you shivered and looked down.

“Where the fuck have you been, ey? I called you to help me.” The hands of the man who just talked rearranged the fabric around your back. “Are you alright?”

You flinched and saw him crouching down right in front of you.

“Who are you? Why were you crying?” He asked in a softer tone and when you finally dared to meet his eyes, you found the most fascinating pair staring at you. “Here, drink this.”

“So… are we going or what?” The other man asked, looking from you to the door. He had a mustache.

The man crouching in front of you looked up and raising his eyebrows, he replied; “Fuck off Arthur.”

“T-thank you.” You whispered, holding the glass tightly in both hands, scared of breaking it. Your eyes looking around for the first time, red and gold decorated the room.

“What are you all looking at? Ey?” He raised his voice and you made yourself smaller. “Do you live around?”

You shook your head slightly.

“I’m trying to help you here… are you staying with someone? A mother? Sister? A husband?”

That raised all the alarms in you, you threw the coat and stood up abruptly.

“No! No!” You shouted, panic in your eyes.

He tried to calm you lowering his voice. “‘S fine, no one is going to hurt ya… come with me so you can change your clothes before you catch a cold. Yeah?” He smiled tentatively and wrapped the heavy fabric around your back again.

“Please don’t tell my husband.” You asked on the edge of crying once more.

He guided you out from the bright room and assured you that he wouldn’t do that. On the short walk back, he asked for your name and introduced himself as Tommy.

“I hope you didn’t let Finn get drunk again, I’m not taking care of that-” A woman stated firmly but stopped mid sentence as her eyes found you by the door.

“Pol, I need your help, this is Y/N.” He then removed the cap from his head and took the coat from you. “Y/N, this is my aunt… Polly.”

The woman looked from you to Tommy, then shook her head.

“You’re soaked love, would you like some soup?”

Tommy left your side, your eyes following his moves, when you saw him walking to the door, you moved abruptly to go after him, but in the rush, something from the table fell to the floor breaking into million pieces.

“Sorry!” You expressed feeling terrible, trying to pick up the pieces of the figurine. “Sorry… I’m really sorry.” Your head hanging low, you were terrified of getting a slap, just like your husband always did, you kept mumbling sincere apologies until a pair of strong hands held your wrists.

“Stop, love you’re going to hurt yourself.” He helped you to stand up and pulled a chair close to the fire, then gently he wrapped a blanket around your body. Tommy guided you away from the broken pieces. You felt guilty and useless as Polly and Tommy cleaned up your mess.

“Thank you, for helping me… you’re so kind.”

Polly looked at you and then at Tommy. “So… you’re here by yourself?”

You found yourself nodding getting lost in the thoughts of how far you’ve come. With your eyes fixed in the flames keeping you warm, you couldn’t help but remember.

(Flashback):

Arriving home you felt grateful, finally after your shift in the coal mine you headed to the river to wash the clothes, now you just needed to hang it in the rope so it would dry. You placed the basket on the floor, it wasn’t payday yet and you didn’t have much money left, perhaps you would ask some people if they needed a hand to wash they clothes too. Your feet were sore from the long walk, but you were used by now. As you reached the small house, you heard voices inside, it was your husband and someone else.

“Nah, it’s your fucking turn to pay for the booze.” Said the voice, by the sound of it it looked like they had been drinking a lot.

But you didn’t have money to spend it on alcohol! You barely managed to make it with the food and other necessities…

“I don’t have any on me.” Replied your husband, as you were about to walk in and scold him for drinking again, you heard the other man say something that made your blood run from your body.

“Well… there are other ways to pay me off, where’s that woman of yours?”

You froze right there, mouth dry, your feet wouldn’t move, as your eyes filled with tears.

“She’ll be home in a bit, give me the money and I’ll go get a bucket of beer in the meantime.”

(End of flashback)

“I didn’t know from where, but I got strength enough to walk away in that very moment. I left Durham and I’m never going back.” You whispered still lost in the fire, your fingers wrapped tightly over the blanket.

A clock on the wall announced another hour had passed as two pair of shocked eyes were fixed on you. It was a shock to think that you came walking all the way from the north of the country, all by yourself.

“That bastard offered you in exchange to get a drink?!” Tommy could hardly believe his words as they left his mouth.

You didn’t notice Polly walking away until she came back with a bowl and some clean cloths, but soon you realized she was kneeling before you with tear running down her face. Scandalized, you tried to stop her feeling embarrassed that an elegant woman like her would be cleaning your dirty feet, but one single glance made you keep your mouth shut as she worked in silence.

“You won’t go through any of that here, my little girl you’re safe with us.”

As she finished cleaning your feet you couldn’t stop the tears when in complete silence, the stranger you just meet on a rainy night switched positions with his aunt and crouched down to apply some ointment with a strong smell in your cuts and wounds.

“Why are you so good to me? Without even knowing me.” You asked between sobs.

“Because I can be a lot of bad things, but you don’t deserve something like that.” He blew away the smoke of his cigarette without removing it from his lips.

—

“Looks like finally someone appreciates my cooking.” Polly stated stomping her finished cigarette in the ashtray. She had never seen her nephews eat her food so eagerly.

Tommy crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked at you, he offered you a second plate and you nodded even before he could finish the question. It had been a long time since the last time you ate something as delicious as this, and you didn’t know when you’d be able to do it again.

You winced and jumped at the sound of a loud thunder, it was almost as if it feel outside the house, but in the process you stumbled and if it wasn’t for Tommy, you would’ve fallen, he caught you just in time.

“Take it easy, you’ve been through a lot.” He chuckled while helping you stand, you couldn’t help but show that man all the gratitude you felt, in the only way you knew of course, wrapping your arms around him.

Polly snorted looking at the scene, if she told anyone what happened in that kitchen, no one, not a bloody person in Birmingham would believe that a woman gave Thomas Shelby a hug, and that she lived to tell the story without being cut by a razor blade.

That night she helped you wash in front of the fire in a big bathtub, you were used to a 1/3 size of it, she used a beautiful scent in your hair and gave you a soft body lotion afterwards. But the best part was the fluffy bed and pillow she provided, the room was so spacious and you loved the paper wall.

It was hard to sleep after the events of the last couple of days, your life was turned upside down… the thunderstorm subsided until you were barely able to hear it pattering against the window so you decided to walk over there to open it a little.

The door cracked open an inch and you found Tommy’s eyes scanning around.

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to interrupt you, just wanted to gather my stuff.”

With a small wave you invited him in. “I was just enjoying the rain.” You admitted in a low voice, looking over the window again. “This is the first night I don’t end up soaked, this house doesn’t have holes in the roof.” You admitted casually.

Tommy used to think being in Small Heath was a bad thing, but you coming from Durham, you had less opportunities than he had and somehow this house seemed to be too much to you.

He moved around in silence, trying to not interrupt your peace, but he did notice you were wearing a floral nightgown, probably one of Ada’s.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He gave you one more look before closing the door, sitting there next to the window mesmerized by the soft raindrops, there was something emanating from you that made him want to protect you, something that made him feel a tenderness he didn’t know he could feel towards someone.

“Oh! Good morning love, who are you?” A deep voice called after you.

When you turned around, you found the man with the mustache that was around last night.

“Hello, I’m making breakfast… would you like some?”

“Oh I definitely want som-”

But Arthur was cut by something hitting the back of his head.

“How did you sleep Y/N?” Tommy greeted you taking off the jacket of his suit to cover you, noticing the look his brother was giving you. “This is Arthur, me brother by the way.”

“A train could’ve passed next to me, and I wouldn’t even notice.” You smiled offering him a plate with the breakfast you prepared and he realized of your delicate features for the first time, now with your face clean from the coal that was covering you the previous day.

“Don’t even try love, he never eats.” Arthur adviced with a wink stealing the plate.

But Tommy had other ideas so he took the plate back and gave your arm a small squeeze after taking his place at the table.

“For the Black Madonna… are you feeling well?” Polly asked walking in, she had to look twice at her nephew. Ever since Grace left, he was turned into some kind of grumpy hermit. It had been a long time since she saw him smiling.

“This is the best breakfast I’ve had in a long time.” Tommy admitted taking another bite, his brother mirrored his actions.

You looked with expectations at Polly, you wanted to show them your gratitude.

“I already had breakfast, but I’ve to taste it.” She took it, not understanding why her nephews were so bloody quiet, not fighting while eating for the first time.

You rushed then to pour her some tea and then placed the milk and sugar next to her cup. Tommy was about to stand up to get the second round of food, but soon you instructed him you’d serve it for him.

“This is delicious.” Polly noted.

“Why aren’t any of you at the betting shop yet?” A man appeared in the kitchen with a toothpick and a peak cap.

“And this is John, my other nephew, John, this is Y/N.”

John gave you a side look, everyone was talking about the mysterious woman his brother picked up from the ground the previous night.

Arthur left in silence after thanking Y/N for the food.

“John I need you to take the rest of your things from your room.” Tommy instructed not even looking at his brother.

“Why?”

“Because Y/N will be staying with us and she needs a place to sleep, your room is free now, just take the rest of your shit.” He explained calmly taking a cigarette from his case, Y/N took the matches to light it.

John watched the interaction raising his eyebrows but decided to say nothing about it.

Without them asking, you started taking the dishes and cleaning the table.

“I was thinking Y/N could come with me to the city.”

You looked at Tommy, waiting for his instructions.

That morning he showed you another glimpse of his generosity by giving his aunt an obscene amount of money and asking her to buy anything you might need. He also instructed that once the wounds in your feet were healed you would be working for them. The previous night, while you were sleeping on his bed they talked about it, you’ve been through enough shit to kick you out and with the recent growth of the business they could use one more pair of hands around, he assured you that you wouldn’t have to go back to your life in Durham, you would be able to start anew.

You were barely able to hold your emotions and you wrapped your arms around his torso like the previous day, feeling extremely grateful for crossing paths with the Shelby family.

Polly stared at the scene before her eyes, it was a total surprise and shock to see her nephew allowing someone who wasn’t even close to the family give him a hug, twice. But she couldn’t blame you though, you didn’t have the slightest idea that you were hugging the most dangerous man in Birmingham.

—-

Over the curse of the following weeks, you started to work for them, helping around in any way you could, burning old files, checking the inventory for the diaries, you learned how to use the phone to take notes, anything they needed.

More than once you bursted into his office after a small knock to bring him tea or the post mail that arrived for him, with a smile he would confess that he didn’t hear it and his brothers would make funny sounds or teased him after you closed the door.

Day by day, you earned his trust, learned fast, he was surprised by your positivity and constantly made him smile, or he would chuckle at something silly you said. But you also learned more about his character, you were able to read his gaze and his mannerisms and the tone of his voice when he didn’t like something, but to you he was nothing but tender and kind. For you, it seemed as if he was in a pedestal, for everything he did for you, everything he gave you.

Tommy explained you patiently the paperwork he needed you to organize and the way he wanted it to be done, soon you didn’t need any more instructions. Thanks to him you learned that despite everything, despite coming from a hard environment, there were still good people around. And it was almost as if all of the terrible things you went through were replaced with nothing but a bunch of blessings.

That’s why it wasn’t a surprise to learn that Tommy bought his aunt a house in a beautiful area as he described you the place, letting you know that you were invited to her opening party.

The soft knock on the door forced you to move your eyes from the windows, you had been lost in thoughts for a while looking at the drops of water sliding down the window.

Tommy looked first at the small candle and book over the table, you had been devouring every single book you found around, then, slowly his gaze stopped at your figure, hugged by a dress he didn’t remember seeing before but it surely suit you well, earlier he heard Ada arrived to glam you up, the image of the woman covered in coal seemed so far away now. You were even wearing lipstick he noticed.

“Woah… Y/N.” He was lost for words, which he tried to hide by clearing his throat.

You blushed, feeling like a completely different person and tried to walk towards te bed to grab the purse Ada insisted you should wear too, but walking in heels was harder than you thought and you stumbled a little, Tommy’s hands were on your waist in seconds, followed by a soft chuckle. His eyes sparkled.

“What is it?” You asked breaking away from his embrace, walking towards the window, trying to forget about the way his eyes were looking at you.

“You’re cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Could you take that as a compliment? Or was it just a safe way to brush you away?

But his arms wrapping around you from behind, revealed otherwise.

Surprised, you turned around to face Tommy, somewhere down the road your admiration and gratitude grew into something deeper, but he was way over your league, unreachable. Or so you thought.

His hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs stroking gently. “I think you’re beautiful.”

His lips met yours softly, Tommy kissed you expressing his feelings through his actions.

Pulling apart just a little, you whispered: “I want to make your heart my home.”

****

Master list

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @gypsy-girl-08 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @ange-thoughts @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @strayrockette @forbidden-forest-witch @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @zablife @peakyscillian @moral-terpitude @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @cilliansangel @rangerelik @sydneyyyya (can’t tag) @adaydreamaway08 @dandelionprints

#That’s what Cill said #cillian murphy #tommy shelby #peaky blinders #cillian murphy imagine #tommy shelby x fem!reader #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy Shelby imagine #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fan fiction

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baby-alien11 · 2 months

Text

Memories: First Public Apearance (Y/N Ulrich Universe)

taglist: @volturi-girl-imagines @dessxoxsworld @camiesully @ethanlandryluver @nowitsmissing @aliciacat20 @gabbylovesreading @nikfigueiredo @itsaaliyah2

Since the start of your relationship on end of august, you and Jack decided to keep it private except for close friends and family to have a few months of peace before having the scrutiny of the public on you, at the eyes of the world both of you were good friends who support each other, but behind close doors you were more than friends, you were lovers

And deciding that a hard launch at the last month of the year would be iconic, the Avatar: The Way of Water London premiere would be the perfect oportunity

So, while he and the rest of the cast were doing press, you and your team of stylist were organizing everything to travel to London, return to LA, and Canada

"Okay, the Club L London brown dress is already bought, we just need to try it when we arrive in London, we achieved to pull an Armani archive for LA, and the Norma Kamali will arrive the same day we do in Canada, we have all the shoes and accesories", Nora enlisted while the living room was a mess with clothes, shoes and accesories, "We got the inspiration moodboards for all the looks, and also the street looks for the three cities, we just need to organize everything"

"Do we need another suitcase?", you asked sitting on the floor in the middle of the mess, "I mean, three countries in two weeks, and I'm also staying with Jack and his mom in Virginia for the holidays"

"Just in case", Nora nodded, "We can use one for the premiere looks and another for the regular clothes"

Going to your room, you went to your closet to get another suitcase and bring it to the first floor to continue with the organization

"We'll do your nails the day before leaving to London, and we got the design ready, which is beautiful", Nora continued checking her tablet, "Make up will be provided by Charlotte Tilbury, Fenty Beauty, Rare Beauty and the Nyx Avatar Collection"

"That is a beautiful collection", Lysette, the make up artist, said, "I can't wait to play with it"

"Hey, sorry to interrumpt but there's a package for you, tornado", Skeet said entering the living room with a big box in his arms which was left in a free space in the middle of the chaos, "Biggest PR package so far"

"Holy shit", you murmured getting up to open it revealing a blue box with the title of the next Avatar movie

Smiling, you went to got your phone to send a text to the person you knew will answer your thoughts

My champ

Hey babe, I hope I'm not interrupting anything

But, can I call you?

Not even a minute after you sent those texts, your phone light up with a videocall from Jack which you were quick to answer

"Hello gorgeous", Jack greeted when he saw your face

"Hi babe", you smiled, "How's everything?"

"Good, we're having a break between interviews", Jack responded moving the phone to show his outfit

"Uh, I love the outfit", you signaled, "By the way, guess what just arrived?"

"An advent calendar? Your Casetify order? A new baking book?"

"No, no and no", you responded before moving the camera to show the big blue box, "Straight out of Pandora, it seems"

"I'm glad it arrived before the trip here", Jack smiled, "And it's more of hand picked gifts, than the regular PR box they are sending to the rest"

"In that case I can't wait to open it, any clues on what I can expect inside?"

"I just going to say that you'll love everything is inside"

"Is that Y/N?", you heard Trinity's voice off-screen, "I want to talk to her"

Seeing a bit of tussle between Jack and what seemed to be Trinity, Bailry and Jamie for a few minutes during what you went to the patio to sit in a sofa, it ended when their faces were in the screen and trying to prevent Jack from taking his phone

"Hi, guys", you smiled, "It's nice to see you"

"I miss you", Trinity said, "When are you coming?"

"My flight is in two days", you responded, "We're still organizing the luggage"

"Did you get what I sent you?", Bailey asked

"I did!", you nodded lifting your hand, "I'm already wearing the Baby Vamp Ring and the Donna bundle, and I love the blue in your hair"

"Do you want to know the end of the movie?", Jamie asked

"No, thank you", you responded

"Guys, give me my phone", Jack exclaimed while trying to grab his phone, "I want to talk to my girlfriend"

"You talk to her daily, we don't", Trinity pointed

"Guys, guys", you claimed their attention, "I promise that the moment I arrive we can talk about everything, I promise"

"Ghostface princess promise?", Bailey asked

"Ghostface princess promise", you nodded

Satisfied with that response, they gave Jack his phone back

"Hi again"

"Hi", you laughed, "I can't wait to go there"

"And I can't wait for you to be here", just as Jack was about to speak again, he was called to continue with the interviews, "I guess duty calls"

"I understand", you nodded, "Go there and be the charming boy that you are"

"I love you gorgeous"

"I love you babe"

Ending the call, you returned to the living room where things were still being organized to move the box to another part of the house with good lighting and position the phone with the light ring in a way that the box and you were visible, before starting an instagram live

"Hello dearest friends behind the screen, Y/N here, I hope you are doing well from wherever you are watching this", you greeted looking at the camera, "So, this package arrived a few minutes ago, and you know I love doing unboxings, so lets start, but first I would like to thank the Avatar: The Way of Water team for sending this"

Opening the top of the box, you were welcomed with a hand written card, which you read out loud

"Dear Y/N, in honor of Avatar: The Way of Water releasing soon we would like to sent you some gifts inspired by the incredible world of Pandora, I hope you like everything that is inside the box and make your experience of watching the movie even better, sincerely, your friends from Avatar", you finished reading to look at the camera again, "Aw, thank you guys, I really apreciate it, okay, lets see what's inside"

Leaving the card in the table next to you, you removed the blue and teal paper to start getting the things

"First we have these blind boxes, we have four of them, after the live I'll open them and upload to stories what I got, then whe have these two atokirinas which you can hang in any space you want, I love the atokirinas, they're so cute, next we have a hat, three shirts and a hoodie, we have also a Loungefly Toruk Makto wallet, plushies of an ikran, a pa'li, a palulukan and an ilu, we also got a scented candle, I love scented candles and this one smells amazing, we have a water bottle which I'm going to use for the gym, we also got an...are you serious? It's an action figure of an ikran, it's so beautiful, I love the purple and green combination and the details, and lastly we have...a LEGO of the Tree of Souls! Guys, you're spoiling me a lot! Fun fact: this is my second favorite tree, the first is the Tree of Voices, but it was destroyed, someone has a video of me crying while watching that scene, well, I would like to thank the team of Avatar for these wonderful gifts, I love them so much, I'm so grateful for them and I'm going to enjoy them so much, also for everyone seeing this, don't forget to watch the movie on cinemas on december 16, I'm sure we are going to love it, love you guys, until next time"

Finishing the live, you put everything in the box again to return to the living room and continue with the packing, this time adding the hoodie in everyone of your airport outfits

When the day of the flight came, and after a ten and a half hours flight, you along with the team of stylists and yours and dad's publicist arrived at London during the afternoon, getting on the van that was sent to go to the hotel were everyone was staying

Arriving at the hotel and getting all the luggage out of the van, your group entered t go to the lobby and get the rooms

"Anna", you exclaimed when she entered the lobby to hug her

"Hi angel", she smiled hugging you back, "I'm so glad you arrived in time"

"I'm also glad to be here", you nodded once the hug ended, "How's everything and everyone?"

"Good, they in the middle of the last interviews of the day", Anna responded while both you returned to the reception, "Tomorrow is the last day and then the next day is the premiere"

Returning to the reception, you filled a form of registration because you'll be staying in the same suite as them, so after they gave the extra key and the rest of your team got theirs, all of you went to the elevators to go to the floors where everyone was staying

While the team stayed in a floor below with the rest of the other teams, you went to the floor were all the cast and part of the crew with their families were staying to walk thought the hall until you and Anna reached the correct door that she opened it helping you with one of your suitcases, even thought if you insisted on carry the two suitcases and the tote bag

"Here's our room", Anna said closing the door, "My room is the one on the left, and Jack and yours is on the right, I think Butters is still eating"

Entering the suite, you saw Butters eating in the dinning room table who at the moment you aproach to scratch him, left his food to greet you because he hasn't see you in a few weeks

"Hi, baby", you said in a small voice scratching him between the ears, "Are you being a good boy? Yes, you are"

"He's enjoying having the room by himself almost all the day", Anna commented, "We often return and he's sleeping in different parts of the whole place"

"Mr Butters is living his best life", you joked

"Angel, do you mind if I leave you for a little while?", Anna asked helping you to carry your things to your room, "They only have two interviews left for the day and I usually am there"

"No, it's okay, don't worry", you assured, "I'm just going to organize my things"

After Anna left making sure you were going to be okay, you started to put some of your things in the bathroom and some of your shoes on the closet, including the sneakers you were wearing, without taking too much space

Once you finished organizing your things, you went to the small kitchen, followed by Butters walking behind you, to drink some water

"So, Butters", you talked to the sphynx cat who jumped into the counter next to you while petting him, "How's fame treating you?"

Just as Butters let a few meows and purrs, the principal door opened inmediatly followed by Jack, still in his interview outfit of the day

"Gorgeous!"

"My love!"

Running to each other, both of you met in the middle to collide into a hug, during which Jack lift you up the ground at what you circled his waist with your legs

For a few minutes, both of you stayed in the same position with your arms around his neck and legs arund his waist, while he rounded your waist with his arms, and his head on top of yours, all while Anna stayed in the entrace filming the entire thing

"I missed you", you said

"I missed you too", Jack responded now looking you in the eyes, "I was literally jumping in my seat during all the interviews just thinking about you arriving today"

"I was also hoping that the plane would go faster", you said, "But I rewatched the movie to have it fresh in my mind, and read the three volumes of 'The High Ground' on my iPad, and then I fell asleep for the rest of the flight"

"Hey, what if I go change because they'll kill me if I wrinkle the clothes and then we can talk and have some dinner?"

Nodding, Jack left you put your feet on the ground to go to his room and change to something more comfortable, while you and Anna started to order some room service for dinner

While having dinner, the three of you talked about everything that happened while being in different countries before going to sleep because of the tiring day all of you had

The next day, while Jack was being styled for the last day of press, you dressed up in a black body, a Burberry skirt, black tights and black high boots, with your hair tied with a hairclip to spend the day with your mom

After being ready and taking your stuff, the three of you went to the first floor to get breakfast at the hotel restaurant were some of the cast were eating, and noticing the table where Trinity and Bailey were, you gave your jacket and purse to Jack before walking silently to them before covering their eyes with your hands

"What's your favorite scary movie?", you said in your best impression of the ghostface voice

"The one you're going to be in", Trinity responded taking you hand that was covering her eyes, "You're here!"

Almost screaming, both girls stood from their seats to share hugs before Jamie, Britain, Filip and Duane joined when seeing the commotion, greeting you when they saw you there

"When did you arrive?", Bailey asked when all of you sat in the table

"Last night", you answered after ordering a coffee, "While you were having the last interviews of the day"

"And we decided to wait until today because all of us were tired", Jack explained with his arm around the back of your chair

"Smart choice", Britain nodded

"So, Y/N, the movie ends with-"

"Goodbye, I'm going to get breakfast", you interrupted Jamie standing from your chair

"I already told you she hates spoilers", Jack said to him before following you to the buffet

"You seriously wanted to tell Y/N Ulrich, the daughter of the first ghostface, the end of the movie?", Duane asked

"It was a joke", Jamie justified, "Besides I told a hundred people the ending"

"Yeah, but she is the ghostface princess, she's horror royalty", Bailey insisted, "And she's a baddie too"

"I heard that", you exclaimed from the buffet, "You're also a baddie and part of horror royalty, Bai"

"By the way, we got renewed for a second season", Bailey said

"I'll be seated", you responded finally returning with a plate of fruit with yogurt and another of regular breakfast food, "So, how's everyone doing?"

"Us we're good, just chilling until we have to go to the premiere tomorrow", Filip said refering to him, Duane and Britain, "Today we're just going watch some movies and going out for lunch, want to join us?"

"I appreciate the offer, but I made plans with my mom to have lunch and spend the day together", you declined, "And I also need to pick up my dress for tomorrow"

"Do you have pictures?", Trinity asked at what you nodded and gave her your phone with the picture of the dress, "It's beautiful, it's giving Evermore"

"And you haven't seen the shoes", you added, "They look like the Tree of Souls"

"Hey, kids", a member of the Avatar media team said getting close to the table, "Sorry for interrupt, but the interviews start in twenty minutes, we need to go"

Eating the most they could of their breakfast, Jack, Trinity, Bailey and Jamie stood from their seats to follow the media person and their families

"See you later, gorgeous", Jack said while sharing a hug, "Enjoy the day and say 'hi' to your mom from me"

"I will", you nodded, "Have fun and go charm everyone, spider boy"

"I love you", Jack smiled with a small kiss

"I love you", you returned the smile

"Where's our kiss?", Duane joked

"Are any of you my girlfriend?", Jack joked, now only circling your waist with an arm to watch the three of them

"No, but we spent four years together", Britain simplified, "We peed in the tank, that was a bonding experience"

"Ew", Bailey groaned, "It's more gross everytime I heard it"

"We all peed in the tank", Jamie exclaimed, "You can't denied it"

"Guys, James is saying that he personally is going to come if you aren't there in five minutes", the media person said reading the message James sent

"Big boss is calling", Trinity commented

Saying the last goodbyes, they left to continue with the last day of interviews, while the four of you returned to eat

"Do you want to see pictures of Jack during filming?", Filip asked

"Absolutely", you exclaimed, "Show me everything"

During the rest of the breakfast, they showed you photos of everyone during the filming of the movies while being careful to not spoil something, and even adding you to the groupchat "Pandora kids"

A bit after finishing breakfast and talking a bit more, you along with Nora and Rachel took a cab to go to the store to get the dress for the next day; arriving at the front of the store, you noticed your moms car parked outside the store and she reclined against it

"Mom", you exclaimed running to her

"Hi baby", Georgina smiled hugging you tightly, "I'm happy to see you here, you look beautiful, I love the outfit"

"Thank you", you smiled twirling a little

Entering the store, they lead the four of you to a private area where the dress was hanging on the wall, with a few couches, small tables, a changing area and a big mirror

"It's even more beautiful in person", you squealed aproaching to saw it better, "I can't wait to try it"

Going to the changing room with the consultant, you changed from your clothes to the dress before stepping out and stand in front of the mirror

"You look stunning", Georgina smiled taking pictures with her phone

"How does it feel?", Nora asked helping you with the heels

"It's comfortable", you responded looking at yourself in the mirror, "I love the fabric, the shape, the color, the slit"

"Can we close the slit?", Georgina joked

"Mom!", you laughed

"And the best part, is that no one has worn it to any red carpet, premiere or event", Rachel, your publicist, said, "And the shoes and the nails are the perfect contrast against the brown"

"With all the complete styling tomorrow it will be perfect", Nora pointed, "I can already picture it"

After returning to your regurlar clothes and while they were packing the dress, you decided to check some things they had in there which end up in buying some things

While leaving the store and waiting for a cab, Nora and Rachel took the dress and the things you bought to take them back to the hotel, while you and Georgina drove to another part where there were stores and coffee shops to walk around

"So, are you excited for tomorrow?", Georgina asked with her arm around your shoulders, "The premiere and making the relationship public"

"Yeah, I can't wait to not hide anymore", you smiled, "Also excited because I know the movie is going to be incredible, by the way, Jack says 'hi'"

"I'm so happy that you found someone who loves you a lot, he's a good guy, and respect of the movie, I literally see giant posters of the characters in every street"

Laughing, both of you continue to walk until she stopped in front of a Hérmes boutique confusing you a bit

"Quit that face, you got three premieres to attend", Georgina joked, "I wanted to give you an early christmas present, and I know you dream of having a Birkin bag some day and that you have to have a sales history, so I decided to get you the first item"

"Thank you so much, mom", you almost sobbed hugging her, "It really means a lot"

"Anything for you, little one"

Entering the boutique, a sales associate aproached with a kind smile

"Miss Cates, welcome", the sales associate greeted, "I'm Irene, I will be your sales associate for the appointment"

"Thank you so much, the appointment is for my daughter, I want her to choose something she likes"

"Hi, I'm Y/N, nice to meet you", you said shaking her hand

Walking around the boutique and seeing the things they offered, until you decided to try some sandals for tomorrow in case you wanted to change shoes for the after party, and also because they were stunning

During the rest of the day, both of you walked around some of the streets and having lunch at a nice restaurant (in which you decided to bought pastries for everyone), before continue with the walk and some shopping in between, until it was time for you to return to the hotel to be in time for the dinner that was organized before the premiere tomorrow

"I wish I could be here tomorrow with you", Georgina sighed while hugging you

"I share the feeling, mom", you said, "But I understand that you have a very important photoshoot"

"But I promise I would have all my twitter and instagram notifications on to see you on the carpet"

After saying goodbye again and making sure that you were inside the hotel, Georgina left while you walked towards the elevator to leave your shopping spree in the room and retouch your make up

"Hello baby Butters", you exclaimed closing the door and leaving the bags in the kitchen table to see the cat waking up from his nap in the back of the couch, "I bought you something to be elegant and cute"

Going through one of the bags, you pulled out a red collar and a pair of glasses for cats and getting them closer so he can sniff them, and having his seal of approval, you put the items on him carefully before taking photos of him and then carrying him in front of the mirror and putting your glasses and taking a few photos of both of you

"We look amazing", you declared sending the photos to Jack and Anna before putting the cat in your lap

Fortunately, the retouch only consisted in removing your jacket, re-aplying your lipstick and releasing your hair from the hairclip and brushing it, so when Jack and Anna returned from the last day of interviews, the three of you went to the first floor where the dinner will be held in a conference room

Arriving there, Anna went to talk to some of the parents while you and Jack walked around the room to find a table, until he saw someone

"Come, I want you to meet someone", Jack smiled walking you towards a small group, "Sig!"

Knowing who he was calling by the nickname, you almost froze in your place if it wasn't for Jack's arm around your waist guiding you towards her, who stopped her conversation to turn to look at both of you with a smile on her face

"Queen Sigourney", you murmured still in shock

"Sig, this is my girlfriend, Y/N", Jack presented both of you

"I've heard so much about you", Sigourney speaked hugging you while you were still in shock, "I'm so happy to meet you"

Separating from the hug, you were still in shock but you gained the hability to speak again

"I'm a great fan of you, it's an honor to meet you", you said not noticing how Jack slipped away, "I'm sorry if I sound like a fangirl, it's just that I admire you a lot, and Alien was the first horror movie that I saw, and I'm sorry if I started rambling"

"That's okay, don't worry", Sigourney laughed, "I also act like that when I met someone that I admire"

"Okay, now I feel a bit calm", you joked, "And I would also like to tell you, that in high school I wrote an essay about you"

"I think that is the best compliment I recieved, what was the name of the essay?"

"'How Sigourney Weaver as Ellen Ripley influenced on the future final girls', and I got an A+ and I was published in the school newspaper along with the other perfect grades"

"If you don't mind I would love to read it"

"Of course! I'll send it to you"

After exchanging numbers, you sending her the essay, talking for a bit more and taking a few photos together, you went to the table where Jack was sitting talking with Duane

"I think I just died and came back to life", you said sitting in the chair next to Jack who was quick to put his arm around your shoulders at what you put your head on his shoulder

"How was the conversation?", Duane asked

"It was like talking to an angel, I swear I was going to fade at any moment, especially because she asked to read my essay about her, and now I have her number on my phone"

"How did you save her?", Jack asked this time

"The only correct answer is 'Queen Sigourney'", you smiled, "And then she saved me as 'The cutest Ulrich', this is one of the best days of my life"

Noticing how James Cameron and Jon Landau were stepping into the small stage with mics on his hands, everyone went to sit at their tables, which include Duane going to the table where his family was, and Anna sitting with you two

"Here's my boy", Stephen Lang said clapping Jack on his back before sitting on his other side, "How's everything going?"

"Good, good, everything's good", Jack nodded, "I wanted to introduce you to someone, this is Y/N, my girlfriend"

"It's nice to finally meet you, Jack has told me a lot about you", Stephen said shaking your hand

"It's nice to meet you too", you smiled, "I'm such a great fan of your work, especially 'Don't Breathe', it's one of my favorites"

"Big fan of horror, I see", Stephen pointed

"I guess it's in my blood", you joked causing everyone to laugh

Interrupting the small conversations, James and Jon gave a speech thanking everyone for being part of the project and things like that, and anouncing a small karaoke between the boys and the girls

"Y/N, you're with us!", Bailey exclaimed from her table

"Of course I am!", you exclaimed back

Running to the stage, the boys choose 'I Want It That Way' and 'Everybody' from The Backstreet Boys (Britain wanted to die from embarrasment during the whole thing) while the three of you choose 'Bad Blood' and 'Look What You Made Me Do' from Taylor Swift, while the adults were having fun watching the small battle

The next day, which was the premiere, all of you took the oportunity to woke up a bit late until the glam teams arrive to start the prepearing for the afternoon, and it seemed like the rest had the same idea because while having a little brunch thanks to the room service, all of the younger cast came to the room to grab from the box of pastries you bought the day before

When the glam teams arrived and while they started to prepare the things and the outfits, each of you took a shower before sitting to get ready, except for Jack who at the moment was wearing face masks sitting on the couch while playing with Butters

During the process of the hairstyle, your phone started to ring with a groupal videocall from your dad and siblings, which you were quick to accept inmediatly seeing their faces

"Hi everyone", you greeted

"There's the fashion icon of the family", Jakob exclaimed with Megan by his side from their house, "What time is it there?"

"Three twenty-two", you responded

"Here is seven twenty-two", Skeet said taking a sip of her coffee, "How's London?"

"Fortunately, not as cold as I thought, by the way, say 'hi'"

Moving your phone, you pointed at everyone in the room who were happy to greet your family at the screen

"Everyone looks beautiful", Naiia exclaimed, "What time is the premiere?"

"Starts at six, and we have to arrive before nine", Jack said at what you turned the camera to his face again, "We're going to run on caffeine and energy drinks"

"With responsability", Anna pointed at what you moved the phone to her direction, "Only a coffee and an energy drink per premiere"

"Anna, you're a saint only for dealing with those two", Jakob joked causing everyone to laugh

"Especially after tons of caffeine", Skeet continued

After talking for bit more the call ended to let all of you to continue to get ready, when Anna was ready, it was Jacks turn to get ready, while they finished your make up, they started to prepare everything to dress you

"Y/N, it's time", Nora said with tape and scissors

"I thought we were going to use the strapless bra", you frowned

"We don't want to take the risk of the bra falling off mid-premiere so the tape is better", Nora explained

Sighing, you got up from your chair to follow her along with Lysette and Tessa to your room

"Wish me luck", you said before closing the door

"Good luck!", the rest exclaimed

Getting into the tape and dress took twenty minutes, during which you talked with them about random topics, after putting the dress, the four of you got out to see Jack in his suit ready for the premiere while you were still putting on the accesories, shoes and prepearing your purse and the emergency sandals

Once your look was ready, they took a few profesional photos for social media, before getting to the lobby and into the van to go to the premiere

Arriving there, all of you got out of the van and walk a bit hearing people going crazy by seeing the two of you holding hands, before stopping to wait to your turn for the press photos

When it was your turn, both of you walked to the first part of the carpet to let them take photos of you side-hugging, which some of them ended up in both of you looking at each other laughing and smiling, even sharing small kisses on the cheeks and lips, and then some of them were individually

Letting him take photos with the rest of the cast, you followed Rachel to the press area where a reporter from 'People' was waiting to interview you

"Y/N Ulrich! Look at you!", the reporter exclaimed making you laugh, "You never disapoint with your looks, can we talk about this one, if you don't mind?"

"Of course", you smiled, "This whole look is inspired by Jacks character, Spider, this Club L London brown dress represents his costume, the blue accesories the painted blue stripes, the hair is also an interpretation of his hairstyle, the nails are also na'vi themed, and the shoes, I don't know if you can see them, but I bought them because they reminded me of the Tree of Souls"

"I absolutely have no words for your creativity"

"Thank you so much, and it was a team effort with my styling team, they are my fairy godmothers"

"That's a beautiful way to refer to them, now, speaking of the movie, the first one came in 2009 and now in 2022, we're finally seeing the second one and also we have three more movies in the way, how does it feels to be able to see the franchise expand?"

"It's amazing, and I'm not going to lie, I saw the first movie for the first time early this year during one of Jack and I's dates, and I ended up mesmerized by the amazing world that James and Jon created along with the cast and crew, and knowing the effort everyone put during this years of production it adds more value"

"What do you expect to see in the movie?"

"First of all, I don't want to see Neytiri suffering, my girl deserves a break and a nice vacation after everything that happened in the first one, and also I can't wait to see the new part of Pandora, which is Awa'atlu and the metakyinas"

"Well, thank you so much for this interview, it was a pleasure to talk with you, you look incredible, and also congratulations on your relationship with Jack"

"Thank you so much, you look beatiful as well, enjoy the night"

After doing two more interviews, you saw that the cast was doing their interviews, so you went with Anna to keep her company

"How's it going?", you gretted them intervining your arm with hers

"It feels gratifying to see everything became real, I feel proud of him", Anna said a bit emotional

"You have every right to be, you have been with Jack since the beggining, it's a full circle moment", you responded putting your head on her shoulder

After Jack finished his interviews (in which you joined him for two), everyone entered the teather to finally watch the movie

"Y/N, last chance for me to tell you the ending", Jamie joked while all of you walked into the teather

"Not going to happen", you denied, "We're litearlly about to see the movie and I won't let anyone, speacially you, tell me the ending"

"That was hot", Jack murmured in your ear while hugging you from behind

"Thank you", you smiled

Entering the teather, you grabed a bag of butter popcorn and a package of red twists to go sit with Anna, while the cast went to the front to share a few words before the movie

In the end, the movie completely broke you (it was luck that your make up was waterproof) so much that even James Cameron aproached to see if you were okay and to invite you to the set when filming starts again

#baby alien creations #y/n ulrich universe #jack champion #jack champion x reader #jack champion imagine #jack champion scream #jack champion x you #jack champion fanfic #jack champion fluff #avatar

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3lle-l-black · 2 months

Text

Season of Love Event @george-weasleys-girl

The lapse (Part 1)

George Weasley x Reader

Moodboard inspired

Warnings: Use of you/yours, can be read as gn!Reader, the twins and the reader are best friends, swear words, alcohol. English is not my first language

With a lot of effort and the help of your wand, you finally open the door to the twins' place with a heavily drunk George hanging on your shoulder. You enter and head towards the living room, swaying a bit with each step, which is kind of hard to avoid, as George doesn't let you go for a second.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and you showed up at the WWW today to ask the twins for a drink, after working all week, you deserve to relax. You just didn't know you'd have to take a high George home before he could accept another firewhisky drinking contest with Fred.

'Honestly, I believe he can walk on his own; he just wanted to hold someone on the way home. And if I'm really being honest, I'm glad George wants to hold me.'

George was hanging on your shoulder, but he kept resting his chin on your head and pulling you closer, making it difficult to walk to the living room. Not to mention, having him so close like that made you have butterflies in your stomach. "Stop trying to hug me, it's already hard to carry you." – You could see the mischievous glint in George's eyes as he insisted on hugs, a playful smile on his face despite the alcohol's influence.

George hadn't had much to drink, but it was enough for him to become clingy.

"I like to hug you, If you didn't wanna take care of me" – He said, turning around and facing away from the house, hugging you completely, "you would have just let me come home alone, Lady" – As if he hadn't come home just because you asked and on the condition that you took care of him.

"Oh how could I leave a friend behind like this? I have a heart, you know?" – You say in a mocking tone, unable to hold back a laugh. Still hugging him, you push George the rest of the way down the hall, guiding him until his feet meet one of the armchairs in the living room.

I sit in the other armchair and push it next to the one George is in. He watches me for a few second

"I wanna be more than friends"

"Best best friends?"

"Stop joking for once! Bloody hell" – George throws himself back, lying on the armchair like a sulking child denied candy. I break into a laugh. My face lights up with a goofy smile when I look at him. So cute. "I don't want jokes"

"Is that what I heard? George mischief Weasley. Saying no to jokes" – He leans over, reaches my shoulder with his forehead, and tries to form a sentence but only manages angry murmurs. I give a little chuckle as I adjust him to rest his head in a more comfortable position on my shoulder. "Why are you acting like this, idiot? Are you, or the alcohol, talking again?"

Fred told me that they had a tiring week and that today George didn't even stop to eat, maybe that was why the alcohol hit him harder. He takes a deep breath, intertwining our fingers and playing with the knuckles, something he's always done. Stressed? He would do it. Sad? Same. Happy? Just the same.

"Georgie..." – It's my turn to let out a deep breath, trying to muster up the courage to say it out loud, "I wanna be more than..." – A low snore from George interrupt me. Looking aside, I can see him with his eyes closed, wearing a soft expression. I give him an indignant smile.

He slept. Now, seriously?

I'm training to write from the reader's pov but I'm much better at writing as a narrator lol

If you find any errors, please let me know 🧡 Support your creators by reblogging and visit @george-weasleys-girl 's blog

asked to be tag: @bee2906 - bee2906 + @futureweasleywife - futureweasleywife

#season of love event #george weasley #weasley twins #fred weasley #gred and forge #gêmeos weasleys #george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #friends to lovers

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 2 months

Text

I Don’t Get It

Bam gets a proposal to do a photoshoot for a certain magazine with his girlfriend, Y/N, and she couldn’t be happier!

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

(Fluff)

2.2k Words

Warnings: Extremely suggestive content, injuries, nudity, bimbo Y/N, crude language, kissing, lingerie, jealousy

An: Happy Valentine’s Day! This is the first non request fic from me in a while! XD While doing research for the Bam wedding fic, I got to rewatching Unholy Union, so this fic was inspired by the Playboy photoshoot Missy was in in episode 4! This moodboard by @princessthatcantfuckingsleep also reminds me a lot of Y/N in this one lol XD If you want an idea of how far ahead I write these fics, this was also inspired by the fact that I got an official Bam skate deck for Christmas!! So cool! Anyways, thank you for all of the requests and please keep sending them in!!

Getting calls from the hospital at midnight about Bam was a part of your routine but that didn’t stop you from rushing over every time to make sure your boyfriend was okay. You’d sit in the waiting room, anxiously filing your nails or fixing your lipstick in the mirror of your blush compact before a nurse called you up- you were in there so frequently for him that they knew you by name. A couple night shift nurses in their blue scrubs and ugly rubber hose-off clogs would shoot you dirty looks, but the notion that it was inappropriate to have your tits out in a hospital never really seemed to bother you.

She showed you to a room and you tottered in on your stilettos, your eyes going wide as you flicked the light on, “Oh my god- Bam!” There was your boyfriend, laying back on a gurney in a paper gown with his arm in a sling, a sight you had seen many times before. Hurrying over to his side, you sat on top of the sheets and threw your legs across his thighs. The pained grimace that Bam was wearing from his broken elbow was replaced with a grin as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him to your chest, “I was so worried about you! What happened?”

“Mmm…m’feel like shit, babe.” Bam murmured from your cleavage, his voice hoarse as he looked up at you with bags under his eyes, “Fell off the skate ramp’n busted my ass. ” You reached up, cupping his face in your palm and smoothing a shiny, bubble gum pink polished thumb over his cheek as machines in adjacent room beeped softly. At least he didn’t hurt that cute little face of his, you thought, but your heart still ached. Pouting, you cooed, “You have got to be more careful! I swear, next time you break that elbow, it’s gonna turn to dust!” Bam snaked a free arm around your waist, pulling you closer as he shot a glance back at the judgy nurses and mouthing something to them about taking a picture because it would last longer.

“You should really be more careful on your roller skates if you keep getting hurt like this!” Turning back to you at the sound of your voice, Bam paused for a second and blinked in disbelief, “I don’t roller skate, Y/N. I’m a pro skater.” You nodded, smiling as you gave him a peck on the cheek, “Yeah, that’s what I said!” You had been dating for well over a year and you still hadn’t gotten that down. Still, Bam couldn’t be mad at you- you were just too cute to annoy him.

Reaching up to run a hand through his black curls, you sighed “Anyways, is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” Bam thought for a second but dismissed the first idea he had though he knew you’d be more than eager for it. He groaned dramatically, wincing, “You know, I’d kill a man for some McDonald’s right now.” Nodding over to the untouched tray of hospital food on the bedside table, he chuckled a bit at your look of shock, “Are they really feeding you that?” You gawked at the gray, unseasoned slop on the tray in horror. If you didn’t know any better, you would swear those doctors were trying to poison him! Pulling him close again, you sighed, “Oh, you poor thing…” Bam knew that he, a grown man, would be perfectly fine without you treating him like a baby bird with a broken wing, but he couldn’t deny that it felt pretty damn good. Sitting up, his lips met yours in a sloppy and gross PDA kiss. This was how you showed your love to each other, much to the annoyance of everyone around you. Some couples go to art museums together or see plays- you and Bam just ate each other's faces.

If there was one thing that could make Bam feel better, it was his girl, so he decided that as soon as he got out of the hospital, he would take you to the mall as payback for your hard work at getting him back to health. The whole time you were right by his side, compassionately listening to him whine about how he wouldn’t be able to skate for at least a month and bringing him your “homemade” baked goods to lift his spirits. Bam couldn’t ask for a better girl, even if you did forget to take the chocolate chip muffins you “baked” for him out of the plastic package you bought them in before you visited him.

☆彡

The two of you were quite the odd couple- here you have this cool rockstar bad boy with this bubbly little thing hanging on his arm. It could have been the navy blue sling around Bam’s arm (the one that wasn’t glued to your lower back, handy for when guys would ogle you) or how your skirt barely covered up the last inch of your ass, but it was most likely the smattering of blotchy, wine colored hickeys on your neck and chest that caused people to stare at you. Your boyfriend was a jealous man, and even though he thought guys who got all pissy when their girlfriends showed a little skin were idiots, he still liked to show people who you belonged to. Plus, you didn’t care that you rarely left the house without them because you didn’t mind getting them.

Sitting on the shiny metal bench at some shoe store with tissue filled boxes crowded around you, you examined one of the many pairs of heels Bam picked out for you. You originally had your eye on a pair of bright blue see-through kitten heels you saw in the window, but as things tend to go, you got a bit carried away. The pair you held, feeling the sticky black patent leather of the seven inch heel, came out of a box with the word ‘Pleaser’ written on the side in curly cursive. They were stunning, but you had some concerns, even while you stared at them with stars in your eyes, “Oh, Bam, I'm not sure if I’d be able to walk in these…” He shook his head at your hesitancy, grinning, “Don’t worry about it. You like ‘em?” With a bit of hesitancy, you nodded, and he wordlessly took them from you, putting them back in the box, “Then we’re getting them.” You giggled, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Usually Bam was pretty sensible with the stuff he picked out for you, but there was something odd about him today. Normally, your wardrobe was all pink pink pink, but the low rise leather mini skirts and vampy purple lingerie sets from Spencer’s (among other things) that your boyfriend paid for struck you as strange. As you sat down at one of those mall coffee shops together, you decided to finally ask the question, holding back giggles, “So, what’s all this for?” Bam looked down at the mountain of bags piled at your feet nonchalantly, then shrugged at you with a grin, “What? I’m not allowed to splurge on m’girl once in a while?” This was really exceeding good boyfriend behavior. You took a sip of your white mocha blendy coffee drink, “I mean, like- yeah, but this is just so much! There’s gotta be some reason you’re doing all this.”

He leaned back in his seat, looking left, then right, before leaning in and dropping his voice like he was about to tell you a secret, “Well, I got contacted by this magazine to be a guest photographer for a photoshoot, and they want you t’be in it.” God, your face just lit up. You were going to be in a magazine- an actual, real life magazine! You couldn’t believe it! Your eyes widened as you splayed your shiny acrylics on the table in disbelief, “Wait, really? Like, really really?” He nodded, smirking all cool at how giddy you got. In your excitement, you leaned across the table and accidentally grabbed his sling arm. Bam gasped in pain and you jumped back, clutching your hands over your mouth, your eyes going wide as some people turned to look at the spectacle you were putting on, “Oh my god- I’m so sorry!” But you quickly forgot about it and went back to your previous excitement while he was still recovering, “But what is it? What magazine? Vogue? Cosmo?” Your boyfriend chuckled at your eagerness, still clutching his arm as you looked up at him with those big ole eyes before clearing his throat and speaking low, “Well, it’s Playboy.”

☆彡

Ecstatic didn’t even begin to describe how excited you were. All morning before the people from Playboy showed up, you were gushing to Bam about it, following him on his heels like a puppy and prattling on about how excited you were, “I’m gonna be just like those cute girls in the bunny outfits! This is gonna be so much fun- Oh! We could even use some of the lingerie I already have! Wouldn’t that be cute?” Your boyfriend thought back to the frills, hot pink, and cheetah print that filled your underwear drawer- a far cry from the gothic-medieval idea they pitched to him. He smiled, shaking his head, “I had no idea you’d be so down for this…” Most girls generally wouldn’t be, but of course you were- this was the opportunity of a lifetime!

An hour later, the crew was there and you were all done up and dressed, complete with these black leather thigh high boots that took twenty minutes to lace up. Different from how you normally dressed, but definitely not bad. When you were ready, you went outside in one of those fuzzy robes to the set Bam rigged up- this big thing with a fire and knights with swords, very Medieval times. He was fiddling with the camera lense when you came giddily prancing over to him, “Hi, Bam!” Your boyfriend glanced up at you, looking you up and down, “Can I see what’s under that?” Nodding, you slinked the robe off your shoulders. He blinked a few times as he stared at you, shamelessly eyeing you with his jaw nearly in the ground. That tiny corset top did wonders for your boobs, and the rest of the outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination either. After a moment he shook himself out of his trance, looking back up to you, “Alright, let’s get shooting!”

You took photos outside until it got too cold, which frankly wasn't that long considering whoever organized the thing had the bright idea to shoot outside in the dead of November. Heading inside after you, Bam brushed off the dirt he acquired on his pants from having to lay army crawl style to take the photos, “You wanna get a few more?” He cracked a smile, “Maybe with a little less clothing?” Sitting down on the couch in the living room, you smiled coyly and rubbed your arms to warm yourself up as the rest of the crew filtered in, “Oh? Like how much less?” Bam shrugged nonchalantly, adjusting the camera lense as he set up, “I dunno. Naked ‘d be nice.”

“No way!”

☆彡

The two of you came to a compromise- you got to keep your underwear on while you held a hot pink skate deck you found lying around in front of your chest. A great idea on your part- you literally had Bam’s name shamelessly plastered across your tits. “Hey, Y/N? This isn’t Hustler. Can you, uh- little bit higher? Yeah, that’s it.“ Glancing down, you could hear him snicker when you realized you were accidentally exposing yourself. You giggled and blushed a little as you quickly fixed it, “Oh, sorry!” Your boyfriend murmured something to a very confused camera guy about not dating you for your brains.

All those hours of posing in the mirror for nobody but yourself in your bedroom really paid off, you thought, hearing Bam’s murmured comments from behind the camera, “Yeah, that’s it…perfect. Just like that.” Holding back giggles at all the attention you were getting, an idea suddenly crossed your mind. “Hey, Bam!” He pulled away from the camera for a second as you called out to him, a smile playing on your lips, “Let’s do one together!” Shaking his head, you could’ve sworn you saw a bit of color on his cheeks.

“C’mon! It’d be so cute- If you show your boobs, I’ll show mine!” You couldn't help from smirking as you watched him mentally weigh out the options of your very convincing argument. While the other photographers got their cameras ready, your boyfriend tugged off his shirt much to your delight as you happily tossed the deck to the side. It was a fact that you could talk Bam into anything if you asked sweetly enough. Straddling his lap as he sat low on the purple chaise lounge that he bought just for this photoshoot, you waited for the cameras to start flashing before you leaned down, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. Maybe you hammed it up for the camera a little, but Bam didn’t have a problem with it. Smiling at the feeling of rough, calloused hands squeezing posessively at your hips, you pulled away slightly, your eyelashes fluttering as you giggled softly against Bam’s lips, “Yr’the best boyfriend ever…”

#jackass #bam margera #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #fluff #jackass x reader #bam margera x reader #missy is such a fashion icon how is nobody talking about this!

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ohforficsakelibrary · 4 months

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 8: Beet - If a man and a woman eat of the same beet, they will fall in love.

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Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~6.2K (It's a hefty one, y'all)

Warnings: Discussion of past character death, descriptions of loneliness. Please read with care.

Rating: Explicit 18+ / oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, multiple orgasms (f), creampie. Minors DNI.

A/N: Lenora breaks a bit but Joel Miller was a contractor and he's good with his hands.

This took me longer than anticipated to write, but it's a bit of a longer one and it's definitely one that moves them into new territory. Thank you all so much as always for your lovely comments and reblogs. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I love these two so much and I sincerely hope that you all enjoy!

A soft knock sounds on Joel's door at 7:30pm sharp on Saturday evening.

Lennie is on his doorstep, blue linen dress and a soft smile, canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

Joel grins, checks both ways behind her, and yanks her through the door. He has her against the wall and she can feel the smile on his lips as he kisses her.

And Joel can feel the exact moment she melts into his hold.

“You stayin’ the night?” He quips, relieving her of the bag on her shoulder.

“No, Mom just said never show up empty handed.

“You wanna stay the night?”

“Feed me and we’ll see.”

“Kitchen’s through here,” he points, “leave your shoes on, you’re fine.”

“Smells, amazing. Ellie home?”

“Nah, she’s actually at a sleepover,” his eyebrows are arched as he sets her bag on the kitchen island, “for a birthday. She has friends.”

“Shame you’ve just got me.”

“Not a shame at all,” he samples the taste of her again before she reaches into her bag.

“I brought her this though, had a copy in my collection,” she pulls 2001: A Space Odyssey from her bag, “she’s probably read it already, but on the off chance she hasn’t.”

Joel fits in behind her, pressing his chest to her back. “Ohh, that’s a classic. She’s gonna love that. Thank you, Len.”

She pulls an amber dropper bottle from her bag next, “and Tommy stopped by, said you wanted bitters?”

Joel takes the bottle from her fingers, holding it up to the light. “Tommy did some meddling then. He dropped off a batch of maple whiskey this morning.”

“Well then, it only seems right to make an old fashioned,” and she reaches into her bag for a bottle of gin, “and you can keep that for whatever you’d like.”

“How the fuck did you make bitters?” One hand rubs at her hip as he places the dropper on the counter.

“Gentian root, ginger, lavender, cherry bark, black walnut, you want me to keep going?”

“No,” Joel’s hips are pressed against her ass, “I want to kiss you.”

"Kiss me then."

Joel spins her around, hoists her up onto the kitchen island and fits between her legs, fingers skating up her thighs. She fits both hands to his jaw as he presses soft lips to hers.

Slowly, tenderly at first before he slips his tongue into her mouth, drawing forth a moan from the back of her throat.

And it’s nothing short of relief, this flood of affection from a granite man.

Being left to her own devices these past few days had caused slippage. Even with the rush of him still warm through her blood.

He could still change his mind.

Lennie swallows hard when his mouth moves away, fingers still drawing light circles on her thighs with the flats of his nails.

“Anything I can do to help?” She asks, tucking a curl behind his ear.

A need to feel useful.

“You can tell me how you like your steak,” Joel grins up at her.

“Medium rare?”

“That a question or your answer?”

“Medium rare.” She says again and he steals another kiss before turning back to the stove.

Joel doesn’t allow her to lift a finger.

He fixes them drinks and ushers her to the dining table.

He dishes out a salad topped with sliced beet and goat’s cheese.

He places a perfectly-cooked medium rare steak in front of her with mashed potato and broccoli accompaniments.

He keeps her water and whiskey glasses full.

He offers her strawberries and hand-whipped sweet cream for dessert.

He doesn’t let her help with the dishes.

Instead, Joel again places her on the countertop, beside the sink this time, and Lennie swings her feet and laughs at his jokes and accepts the kisses he offers while dodging soapy hands.

And Joel thinks what a privilege it is to have a smart beautiful thing here purely to keep you company and not because your back needs watchin’.

_____

“You want the tour?” Joel finally asks, crumpling a dish towel between his hands before he hangs it on the oven handle and dries the backs of his hands on his jeans.

“Sure.”

"You sure you're sure, you didn't sound sure."

"I am."

"Alright. Thought you'd say somethin' smart," he helps her down from the countertop and places her feet back on the floor, "like 'is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?'" He pitches his voice up a hair and mimics her northeastern accent.

"Is it?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Lennie doesn't answer.

He refills their whiskey instead and starts with the bottom floor.

Joel's home is still sparse because he hasn’t quite filled the space yet. The house had sat vacant for years before folks borrowed trinkets to adorn their own spaces and bartering for replacements had been too low on his list of priorities.

The pictures of someone else’s family have been taken down and relegated to a box somewhere.

Joel has none of his own.

Lennie hangs back as he shows her Ellie’s ‘lair’ and ‘the good bathroom’ with the bathtub, her glass of whiskey clutched in both hands, always sticking to the doorway of each room as Joel guides her through.

She never quite sets her feet over thresholds.

And Joel notices, but he can’t figure out why.

“You have a record player,” Lennie’s eyes light up when she spots it in the corner of the living room upon their return.

“Not sure if it works, haven’t tried it. But there are a few albums left,” Joel sets his glass down on the coffee table and slumps down on the couch, suddenly aware of the dull ache in his back from being on his feet far too long.

He notices that she wants to check but it’s like she needs permission.

“Go on, take a look,” he urges her and Lennie sits on her heels in front of the media cabinet as she flips through the small collection.

She hums to herself, “mm, we don’t have this one,” and he notes the use of the word but doesn’t ask, because she’s holding up a Diana Krall album with light in her eyes and asking if she can put it on.

“Only if you’ll dance with me,” he stands, ignoring the way his back muscles protest because the need to hold her again is too strong.

“Didn’t take you for a dancing man,” she takes his hand as the soft sound of jazz fills the room.

He fits both hands around the small of her back as she encircles his neck.

He can feel the faintest tremor thrumming through her muscles.

And the way she's too conscious of her breathing.

“Hey, Len,” and she feels it rumble through his chest where she’s held tight there, “can I ask you somethin’?”

She hums.

“What’s up? You’re like a— a vampire.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It’s okay if you are. Just. Warn a man.”

Lennie doesn't laugh.

“I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing.” She feels him smile into her hairline. “Len, what’s going on?”

“I’ll try. You made the most beautiful dinner, and damn good old fashioneds, and you have a beautiful house. It’s been such a lovely evening.”

“You leavin’?” Joel pulls back and stares down into her eyes because those are leavin’ words.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Not even a little bit, baby,” he pulls her in close again, swaying her to the music, his tone suggesting what she’s just said is the most ridiculous thing in the world because it is.

But she sniffs hard against his collar and he leans back again to get a look at her face.

Lennie’s eyes are swimming.

The gold is lost.

“Oh, Lenora. No, no, no, none of that. I ain’t kickin’ you out.”

He takes her face in his hands with all of the tenderness he’s capable of.

Like clutching at a frantic sparrow with a broken wing.

And Joel briefly wonders if the kindest thing he can do is snap its neck.

He can’t. Its claws have already dug into his heart.

“You don’t have to leave, Len. Please don’t leave. Not yet.”

And gears gnash against each other in Joel’s brain because what he wants to say might lead to a flood.

Flood now and rebuild later.

“I think we gotta clear the air on something though.”

She tenses in his hold even against the soothing of his hand down her spine.

“Yeah?”

“You gotta tell me what’s going on, baby,” he still soothes, keeping her head tucked under his chin.

“You closed up again tonight. M' glasses are gone.”

After a moment, “why the tears when I ask you to stay? And why don’t you ever ask for what you want, Len?”

She breaks from him to stare up into big brown eyes that are soft despite the firmness in his tone.

And the last thing Lenora wants to do is finish this evening by dropping her baggage off at his doorstep. But Joel can read in her expression that she’s about to deflect and his voice sharpens.

“Your honest answer, Len. We can’t do this if we ain’t honest. I may be out of practice, but I know that much.”

“Because I’m afraid to want things, Joel.”

Lenora answers quick because Lenora knows where all of her shit is.

She just doesn’t know what to do about it.

“Why.” He presses again. Firmly, but far from devoid of compassion.

“Because I’m terrified they won’t want me back.”

“I think it’s pretty clear that I do, though.”

“That’s exactly it. You terrify me.” She’s out of his hold now and he thinks better of pulling her in again. “All of this is terrifying.”

“But why, Lenora.”

“Have you ever felt needed, but not wanted, Joel?” She snaps back.

And Lennie watches the consideration of it ping around his brain.

Sarah, his precious baby girl who needed him for food and shelter and comfort, wanted him for the same from the moment she could parse the two. She loved her daddy. Screamed her head off the entire first week of kindergarten because she wanted her daddy.

Sarah’s mom didn’t need or want him. She made that clear.

Tess didn’t need him. A guard dog has his uses but she could have found anyone. Tess wanted him. Even after they blew up that night. When he screamed “I can’t love you” so loudly that their mismatched glasses shook in their cabinets. Tess still held him at night. Because Tess wanted him.

And Ellie, now safe in the want from the need side of things, still seeks just him out for comfort. She’s fed all day by the folks down at Mess and Mr. Hayes at the farm, and Jess who makes those maple candies. She is safe, her Uncle Tommy sees to that. But she still curls up at his side in lamp light on chilly nights. She chooses him.

“I can’t say that I have.”

“Yeah. It’s all I’ve felt these last few years,” She’s taken a seat on the edge of the couch cushion like she’s afraid to settle in, gaze locked on the rug. Biting back tears. “Needed but not wanted. And not, feeling unwanted, just, not experiencing it—proactively. In the affirmative.”

“People here need me, but I’m a fixture.” Her voice is monotone as she continues. “Permanently cemented to the floor in my shop. They come and go, they take and they give you something material in exchange.”

“They look at me and see through me, Joel.” She gestures at her heart with her hands.

“They seek me out because they need me. But slot someone else with my knowledge behind that bar and really, there’s no difference. Occasionally someone shares a mug of tea or a glass of gin and I love that, I really do.”

She swipes the back of her hand quickly over her cheek.

“But the one person who ever wanted me died in my arms and he took it with him.”

“And I felt so empty, Joel.” Her fragile whisper cracks. “Everything just became so cold.”

“Tommy told me what happened,” he whispers, “to Andy.”

Lennie looks up at him through tears.

“I didn’t have anyone, Joel. For years. And I forgot what that felt like.”

And in this moment, Joel realizes that he’s never actually been alone either.

He had Sarah.

He had Tommy.

He had Tess.

He had Ellie.

You keep going for family.

She had no one.

And she kept going anyway.

He can’t say he would have been that strong.

He wasn’t. That first night without his daughter.

Without his heart.

“I forgot what it felt like to have someone spend hours talking to you because they want to. To have someone just to sit with in front of a fire. To share a sunset with. To make…fucking dinner with so you don’t have to do it all on your own.” She gestures weakly towards the kitchen.

“To be held and kissed and touched, Joel.”

Her voice is so small now, rasped through the pain that crushes her from the inside out and Joel wants desperately to hold her again but he settles for clenching his fist and shoving his fingers in his pockets.

He wants her to let it out.

"And I'm sorry that it breaks me apart like this," she swipes at her cheeks again, angrier this time. "It feels like something that shouldn't even matter, like I should be able to do this on my own."

“Andy left and touch went out of my life. Companionship. This feeling of being wanted. And I convinced myself I didn’t want it anymore. Didn’t need it.”

“And then you came out of fucking nowhere.”

Lenora holds a hand out and stares into her palm, “and to have it placed in front of you like food after famine.”

“Knowing that at any moment you could do something to have it snatched away.”

Her fist closes now.

“And I feel like I have no right to exist in someone else’s space and I think maybe if I just don’t take up room. Maybe if I’m not too loud, or too headstrong, maybe if I don’t ask, it’ll stick around for just a little while longer. I’ll make that compromise.”

“Because it’s the only thing I want. To have someone want me.”

“And I am terrified of fucking it up, Joel,” her voice is low as she finishes, finally angling her eyes back up at him.

Cheeks wet with tears that flow too fast for her to catch.

And Joel steps around the coffee table to kneel in front of her, noticing how she stiffens with the action of it, not unlike she did when Ellie hugged her in the stables.

How she flinches when someone gets too close.

Where she melted before, she freezes up again for fear of having said too much.

Of having been too much.

Felt too much.

Taken up too much space here in his home.

Her nerves are still terrified of affection, regardless of how badly he longs to give it.

How badly she needs to receive it.

And Joel pushes the boundary a fraction, brushing a curl that clings to his finger off of her cheek.

Running calloused knuckles as softly as he can down the salty streaks that mar her skin.

“Because it’s perfect?” He asks barely above a whisper, mouch catching on the syllables.

“Because it’s perfect, Joel,” she breathes, relaxing upon her skin’s recognition of his.

His heart jumps.

“Because it’s a taste of everything I’ve always wanted and the last time I had that, my entire world shattered and I’m afraid, Joel.”

“But for right now?” The pads of his fingers trace one tendon of her neck, as his eyes meet hers again, “it’s perfect?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, warm against his skin.

“Then let it be perfect, Lenora.”

And Joel closes the gap that opened between them with his lips. Feather-soft brushes at first before they feel the need to convince her more ardently.

He kisses her until she kisses back.

Until she winds her fingers in his hair and opens to let his tongue slip inside.

Until she lets herself feel his face in her hands and the taste of him in her mouth.

Joel only stops when she breaks for breath, chin reddened from the scrape of his beard.

“For as long as it is, Lenora” he whispers against her lips, “let it be perfect.”

And she clutches his massive face in her palms, searching his eyes.

Receiving nothing but sincerity in return.

She presses her forehead against his, “yeah.”

“Promise me, Lenora.”

“I promise.”

“You swear that’s the truth? The whole truth and nothing bu…”

“Stooop, Joel,” she chides weakly at his poor man's joke, touching the tip of her nose to his before kissing him again.

He smiles and hums from deep in his chest.

“Len?” He whispers against her lips.

“Yeah,” she sniffs, attempting to stuff it all back inside.

“What do you want?" Another kiss pressed to her mouth, "right in this moment, what do you want?”

“No thinking,” he adds, head spinning from having her this close. “What do you want?”

“I want you to touch me.”

“Where?” Joel breathes against her mouth.

“Everywhere.”

Joel stands, uncaring of how his knees click with the motion, and holds out a hand.

Her small palm is skittish in his hold.

Joel laces his fingers with hers.

“It’s warmer upstairs.”

"Is this a ploy to get me into your bedroom, Miller?" Lennie sniffles and Joel looks her dead in the eyes.

"Yes. Yes it is."

_____

Joel guides her to sit on the edge of the bed, kneeling before her again to slip her sandals from her feet, encircling her ankles gently with each hand before trailing his fingers up the backs of her calves.

She shivers but not from the temperature.

Joel pulls off his socks before shedding his flannel and t-shirt, tossing both onto a chair in the corner.

He makes himself more vulnerable than she feels.

Her eyes track him around the room before he settles beside her on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek and turning her face in towards him.

“Are you cold?” He presses a kiss to her lips.

“No.” Heat from the kitchen has risen, warming the whole upper floor.

“Are you sure? I can start a fire.” He nods behind him at the fireplace in his bedroom.

“I’m okay,” she reaches to run a hand down his forearm.

“Whatever you need. You tell me, okay?”

“Yeah.”

His mouth is a quick distraction before his tongue slips against hers.

Joel's palm fits to her cheek, thumb tracing one cheekbone.

Fingers trail down the side of her neck and skate gently over the front of her throat before his hand flattens over her breastbone, tucking under the collar of her dress.

His lips break from hers to kiss her neck and suck on her ear as he palms one shoulder.

Lennie reaches down to undo the tie of her dress before Joel asks if he can instead.

Chill bumps form on her skin when he unwraps linen, broad palm soothing warm over her stomach when it’s finally bare.

He shifts with her to help slip it from her form, mouth never far from hers before he lands the dress on the chair over his own clothes. Lennie's hands fly to his hair slipping soft strands between her fingers as she finally turns her body in towards him.

The warmth that radiates from his skin sets her head spinning.

He presses kisses to her collarbone before returning to her mouth.

“Lie back, Len.” He whispers there.

Joel follows, fitting one knee between her legs. A palm on either side of her head, careful of her long hair.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” she hums with arms around his neck when he tips his head to run his nose over the lines of ink on her left arm, licking at the sensitive ditch of her elbow before he nips at her bicep.

The press of his bare chest against her skin when he mouths at one breast through her bra makes Lennie moan and arch up against the solid weight of him.

He shifts lower to trail his nose over her ribs. Inhaling the cedar scent of her soap and pressing kisses to every inch of skin, pulling soft gasps from her throat.

He notes what makes her breath catch. What makes her fingers tighten in his hair and nails sink into his shoulders.

Joel worships down to her hipbones before Lennie grows too impatient to allow him to continue.

“Joel,” she pants and he angles big brown eyes up at her, “I need you.”

He wraps one hand around the meat of her thigh, shifting on the bed to settle properly between her legs, rubbing at her hips.

He mouths at her stomach before hooking fingers in the waistband of her underwear.

“May I?”

“God, please yes,” she pants.

Joel slips fabric down her legs and off of her toes, hanging her panties off the footboard before his lips trail up her inner thighs.

Lennie trembles.

"This okay?" Joel runs his palms over the creases of her thighs as she nods, thumbs brushing at soft fluff before spreading her open with a deep, needy groan.

One thumb gently starts rubbing circles over her clit and Lennie gasps.

“Mmm,” he growls as he lowers his face and breathes the scent of her deep, exhaling with a moan before his tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.

She’s already slick with anticipation.

Joel tentatively trails the flat of his tongue over her slit and Lennie moans and writhes in his hold. He continues, thumbs holding her open, tongue learning what makes her cant her hips towards his face.

What makes her moan his name.

His tongue dips inside of her and she keens and fists the sheets, tipping her head to the side as he curls the tip of it before one hand slings a leg over his shoulder.

Joel’s lips latch to her clit and she rolls her hips but one palm holds her firm, splayed against her stomach as two fingers tease before slipping into her heat, the slide made easy by her arousal. Joel quirks them, feeling for that spot where the silk of her gives way to texture before he beckons, coaxing a soft cry from her throat.

He presses his hips into the mattress in an effort to give his aching cock some manner of relief.

“Joel…oh fuu—” she whimpers as the tip of his tongue flicks against that sensitive bundle of nerves before he soothes with the flat of it and repeats. One of Lennie's hands tangles in soft ashen brown curls, raking, caressing, tugging when his fingers become more insistent.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs against her, rubbing the high bridge of his nose where his tongue just left, fingers still building in pace.

Lennie reaches up with her other hand to clamp it over her own mouth when his tongue starts twirling soft circles around her clit before he sucks hard.

Her hips buck against him and his eyes flick up towards her face.

Cameras are a thing Joel misses.

Lennie’s head is thrown back, resting on a halo of black curls splayed against his pillows, palm doing a poor job of stifling the moans that come from her chest now.

A chest that heaves for breath.

Breathlessness that he’s causing.

And so he stares for a moment, pressing the image into his mind like a wet flower between the pages of a book.

One that succumbs to the weight but leaves an imprint of its own against the text.

“There’s no one here, baby,” he whispers, reaching his free hand up to soothe over her sternum, “it’s just me.” He laps at her again, “you can be as loud as you want.”

The hand over her mouth slips down to run across his, holding him holding her as her ribs heave.

“Joel?” She gasps in warning.

“Go on, beautiful,” he murmurs against her heat. “Come for me.”

And she falls apart between his fingers and his tongue with his name lodged in her lungs on an inhale.

She only breathes again when her muscles give up their grip. Joel promptly stuffs his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them with an audible pop.

Stuttering breath catches in her throat before she swallows hard. Joel makes his way up her body again until she tastes the tang of her release on his lips.

“I’m a bit out of practice, but I hope…” he starts.

“Jesus, Joel.” She laughs and rakes her fingers through his hair. “You were…that was.” A breathless whisper. “Perfect. That was perfect.”

He hums and nuzzles her jaw as she basks in the heat of him.

Basks in his attention as plush lips suck at hers.

And as his tongue slips inside he feels it.

Feels her melting again.

“Joel,” her hand clutches the hair at the nape of his neck before he tips his face to look into her eyes.

“Hmm.”

“I need you inside me,” she whispers.

“Whatever the lady wants,” he mouths at the curve of one breast through the fabric of her bra. “the lady gets.”

She sits up as he leaves the bed for a moment to undress, propping herself up with hands behind her back, knees knocked together.

Watching as generous fingers deftly unlatch his belt. As he steps out of his jeans and hangs them over the arm of the chair, careful not to leave them lying on her dress where the weight of denim would cause linen to wrinkle.

She watches as he bends to slip off his boxer briefs, noting the hole in the hip just below the elastic band from where his thumbs have worn threads away.

Lennie watches the breadth of his shoulders and the curve of his bum and the strength of his form and the smile on his face when he turns to her again.

She tucks her chin against her shoulder, staring up at him through big, bright eyes before her gaze slips lower to where his cock stands thick and proud against the soft swell of his stomach.

This man.

This broad, rugged, brutal, yet tender-hearted thing.

Wants her.

“Hey,” the corner of his lips quirk as he settles back onto the bed to sit beside her.

“Hey,” she echoes, tipping her face towards him. His fingers find her jaw and his mouth finds hers again. He feels her smile and it makes his lips spread into a grin, teeth accidentally clacking against hers.

“Sorry, baby.”

She just wraps a hand around the base of his strong neck and pulls him down with her against the pillows.

Joel’s palm splays across her stomach, rubbing warm circles into her skin as his tongue slips against hers, cock pressed against her thigh.

“Skin ‘s so soft, Len.” Joel presses his lips to her collarbone, shifting to kiss down her sternum.

“Mm, you’ve said that before,” she runs a hand through his hair before soothing across the span of his shoulders, briefly fascinated by the size of him.

At how much space he takes up.

“‘Cause it’s true,” he drags his nose against where the underwire of her bra bites into her flesh, “I like it. I like you, Len.”

Joel rubs his bearded cheek down her stomach and she squirms.

“Jesus, Joel that tickles—”

He hums a laugh that turns to a low growl, big brown eyes angled up towards her for permission.

She parts her legs and he settles between them, palms dipping into the curves of her waist and smoothing low over her stomach.

Joel meets her eyes as he rocks his hips, tentatively sending his cock slipping through the slick at her core.

She gasps and reaches for his wrists as he continues coating his length to ease the slide.

Massive palms hitch at the creases of her thighs, one thumb guiding his cock to notch at her entrance.

Brown eyes lock and Joel slowly presses inside of her.

Watching as her lids flutter shut while his mouth falls open. Tongue tracing the inside of his bottom teeth.

He pauses until her grip on his wrists relaxes, starting up a slow rock of his hips as her teeth catch her lip.

He takes his time with her.

Time to adjust.

Time for her to sink into the feel of him. Into how he presses and stretches and pulls and grips.

Time to build. In pace, in pressure, in urgency until finally he lets the reins out.

The way Joel fucks is devastating.

Hard, driving strokes that move her to brace one palm up against his headboard.

The roll in surprisingly loose hips that causes his cock to catch on her g-spot with every stroke before pressing farther against the deepest parts of her.

Palms that knead the flesh of her hips. Gripping to bruising.

A pace that builds in speed before slowing again when he presses himself deeper, grinding his pubic bone against her clit

Lennie twists in his hold, hands gripping at down and cotton as she sinks her teeth into a pillow that smells of woodfire and Joel and her ponderosa soap.

"Joel," she moans, "wait, I want—"

Immediately he stills, sucking in breath through his teeth.

"Y' okay?" He murmurs, watching her chest heave.

"Yeah," she rakes curls out of her face, "'m gonna boss you around for a minute though."

Joel bites his bottom lip and gently bucks his hips against hers. "Good."

"Move for a second?"

Joel pulls out and they both whimper at the loss as he sits back on his heels.

Lennie turns to lay flat on her stomach before casting an expectant look back over her shoulder.

Joel let's out a soft "oh fuck" and she arches her back slightly, accentuating an ass that Joel just has to touch.

She hums as he palms her flesh before fitting his thumbs into the dimples at the base of her spine.

"C'mon, Joel," she moans, tucking her nose back into his pillow, "don't keep a girl waiting."

"Yes, ma'am," and he shifts to straddle her form before sheathing his cock inside of her again, moving slowly, testing the angle. His fingers dig into her hips as he alternates between hard thrusts and a slow rock that grinds the head of his cock against the mouth of her womb.

And Lennie can't keep quiet now even if she tried.

He smirks when one hand again reaches to steady herself against the headboard and takes it as license to hook a hand over her shoulder to pull her against him when his hips slam forward.

"Oh ff—" She moans from her chest.

“Still with me, Len?” he growls over the staccato of skin on skin.

"You're too far away," she pants and Joel folds to brace his palms against the mattress and press his chest against her back.

The soft swell of his stomach fits perfectly to the curve of her spine.

He envelops her in his breadth and his weight and his heat and finally the wet of his mouth where he sucks at the delicate skin just behind her ear.

"Better, baby?"

“God yes,” she moans, “don’t stop, Joel.” Lennie’s head falls back against his shoulder and he grins.

“There she is.”

And she comes white hot with his name on her lips and his nose buried in her hair.

Joel presses deep for as long as he can before he feels himself hurtle towards the inevitable brink.

The moment he moves to pull out, Lennie reaches to catch a scruffy cheek that's burning with heat.

"Joel, stay," she moans, turning her face towards his.

"'Y— fuck — y' sure—" he grits out, panting frantically against her cheek.

"Want you inside," she gasps against his lips and it sends his hips slamming against hers as he comes with a shout, cock throbbing as he spills himself deep, weight briefly collapsing against her.

"Lenora," he whispers when his senses return.

She hums, boneless underneath him, basking in the way one palm trails down her ribs as he shifts to pull out and settle to one side of her.

Fingers skipping over the damp skin of her back before engulfing the base of her skull.

"Lenora, look at me."

She does, hazy and molten, eyes glittering with low lamp light.

"Can you stay the night?"

And her face splits with laughter before he pulls her in against his chest.

"Yeah, Joel," she nuzzles his collarbone, "I'd like that."

_____

“God she’s such a fucking bitch!” Ellie screams when she bursts through the front door just after 8 o'clock the next morning.

Lennie immediately stiffens, looking to Joel for all the world like the panicked deer that’s jumped out in front of a car. He holds up a hand in her direction and Lennie has no idea what the fuck that’s supposed to mean because she’s sitting at Joel’s kitchen table in nothing but his brown flannel shirt and her come-damp panties and by all accounts she’s not supposed to be here.

“Hey, don’t slam the door,” he calls in Ellie’s direction, her heavy footsteps getting louder as she makes her way towards the kitchen.

“She tore up my fucking book, Joel!” She’s rounded the corner now, “she tore up Will Liv—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

Fucking caught now.

“Hey, Ellie,” she tugs Joel's shirt further down over her bare thighs.

Ellie’s eyebrows are in her hairline, eyes flitting between the pair of them before she speaks after what feels like an hour.

“Good job, old man. You bagged the prettiest girl in town,” Ellie slaps Joel on the back before moving to grab a plate from the dish rack.

“Ellie…”

“Oh shit,” something connects for her as she takes a seat, “that’s where you were the other night. When you came slinking in at like four in the morning.” She locks eyes with Lennie, “your house.”

And Joel’s been struck dumb because “Ellie” with varying degrees of annoyance seems to be all he can bring himself to say as she dishes out bacon and eggs.

“Honestly, though, it’s about time he got laid.” This to Lennie, who’s wide-eyed, red in the face, and certain that she wants to die.

“And there are worse people I could be forced to sit across the breakfast table from,” she shovels a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “You know Martha has a crush on him right?" She throws a thumb in Joel's direction. "The school teacher? The ditzy one.”

“Okay, Ellie, room, now.” Joel grinds out.

“What, she does! Everyone in town knows that.”

“Ellie, wha…who is Martha? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Actually, everyone in town does know that,” Lennie murmurs.

“See?" Ellie gestures towards Lennie. "Thank you.”

“Hey, Joel?” Tommy calls as the front door slams behind him. “Jimmy wanted to see if we could help with the barn today and I told him—heeeyyy, Lennie.”

“I suppose this is the first and last time you’ll ever spend the night,” Joel looks over to where Lennie’s clutching the sleeves of his flannel in her hands and covering the bottom half of her face.

“It’s the first and last time I don’t leave before sunrise.”

“Alright, look,” Tommy reaches over Joel’s shoulder for two strips of bacon, “I’ll get outta here, you swing by whenever and we’ll discuss the barn, Ellie, you’re with me kid. Len?” He grins. “You enjoy your morning.”

“I’m not finished breakfast,” Ellie protests.

“Bring the plate. I don’t care. It’s across the way. I got a kitchen table too, c’mon, hustle.”

And to their surprise she grabs her plate and heads for the door. Tommy follows, throwing a wink over his shoulder before they hear the front door swing shut.

Keys jingle and the lock latches.

Lennie’s eyes are wide when she finds Joel’s stare again.

And to her surprise, he bursts out laughing.

The way it shakes his shoulders and rounds out his cheeks is contagious and she can’t help but follow suit.

When the mirth calms he reaches out for Lennie and encourages her onto his lap.

“‘M so sorry about that, Len.”

“It’s—" she rubs at his heart over the fabric of his t-shirt, "it’s okay.”

She means it too.

“You know," she wraps an arm around his neck, "I’m actually just fucking you to get back at Martha,” she teases, sucking languidly on Joel’s bottom lip.

And it drags another laugh from his chest.

“Is that so?” Joel nuzzles her neck before kissing a path down her skin. “Sounds like you’re puttin’ a target on your back being here.”

“Make it worth my while then, Miller.”

And he does.

He eats her out again on the kitchen table, right there between the bacon and eggs. Has her coming on his tongue with one of her hands tangled in his hair and the other clamped over her mouth lest anyone hear.

He’s tempted to rip it away.

Let this Martha know exactly who Joel Miller is fucking.

The prettiest girl in town.

At least the door's locked.

And Lennie's safe here.

She's wanted. Right here.

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