#ANYWAYS that ended up taking my entire morning off and I still have to pack a bag and take a shower and do some notes

[gottagobuycheese]

WIP Game

Tagged into the accountability relay race by @theaggresivepacifist — thanks a mil! Also please know that I am making the biggest bug eyes at your previews 

Rules: In a new post, show the last line snippet(s) you wrote and tag as many people as there are words as you want geez I’d never be able to tag that many people

Well, I haven’t written anything consistent in a while, and the most recent thing is still secret unfortunately, BUT I do have a couple things to share that will hopefully at some point make it out into the world beyond my drafts:

Snippet #1 a.k.a. You Want To Watch Nobody Knows, You Want To Watch Nobody Knows Soooooo Bad

Each knock on the door made her heart spasm against her sternum, faster and faster until the nauseating tide of dread in her chest threatened to choke her.

There was an officer outside her door. She was sure of it. Things had been too good for her lately, so it was only a matter of time before the universe had to course-correct. So-yeon only ever brought misfortune upon the people she loved, after all.

She stumbled toward the door in a daze.

This was it. This was the end. This officer was going to tell her — they were going to tell her —

She opened the door.

Snippet #2 a.k.a. The Jung Sibling Cinematic Universe ft. Han Sooyoung’s Confessional Booth

“Sorry,” she says, after nothing happens for another minute, “where did I leave off?” 

“You were walking from Chungmuro and chatting about things.” There’s an odd catch in Sooyoung’s voice when she mentions the station, but Heewon doesn’t dwell on it. She’s too busy staring at the boy in the bed, who would be staring right back at her if only he would open his eyes. 

“Siblings,” she says quietly, staring at Kim Dokja’s sleeping face. “We were talking about siblings.”

Snippet #3 a.k.a. YOU WANT TO READ ORV, YOU WANT TO READ ORV SOOOOOO BAD

In the back of his mind, a conversation he’d had with her years ago plays in a loop, about rereading and finding something new. That the story you read the first time isn’t the only story there is. He looks at his mother now, at her hand holding his arm, feels the uneven tremble of her fingers as they try to decide between holding on and letting go, and notices, for the first time, that the thought at the front of his mind isn’t all the ways she had hurt him. 

It dawns on him slowly, then all at once. 

Maybe that’s what this feeling is.  He wonders if it’s been there since before he’d woken up. 

“Eomma,” he says, the rusty syllables clunky on his tongue, “why don’t you come back inside?” 

It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to look at my dashboard or even be online consistently on any platform, so I don’t know who is still actively writing right now, THEREFORE I apologise and please feel free to just consider this a friendly no-pressure hello. Of course, if you are working on something you are allowed to share, I would love to see it! @imperiousphasmid​, @fremulon​, @darkpurpledawn​, @diminished-fish, @internetkatze, @directorofthefalselastact​, @demonlikejudgeoffire

And if I didn’t tag you but you want to join in on the sharing please do! Tag me so I can see it! Wait for no one! 2023 is the year of grabbing your desires by the horns and making them happen without waiting for permission!!

#unless that desire is wanting to sleep through an entire week of work maybe do not do that #as far as our pact: please consider this as an advance receipt for the promise of completing reviewing at least Some Questions this weekend #by the time Monday rolls around I will have earned this post's right to exist #anyways this is just a front for my greed at wanting to read everyone's things #I DON'T CARE IF I DON'T KNOW THE FANDOM I WANT TO SEEEEEE #and no I do not know if or when any of these will be finished lol #sure would be nice! sure would love to finish something some day #tag thingy #tag game #aww look I thought I could write #asa you have my permission to read this because it contains virtually no significant information about either of these media #BUT WE WILL COMPLETE THEM SOME DAY #also hiiii cherry and claudine and jess and quandt long time no talk!! I hope you are well :D #sona and opal I know I barely know you guys but I love reading your orv thoughts so if you have any unclassified things to share #please feel free to do so #also feel free to not do so sdhfkskfss I meant it when I said this was a no-pressure thing #ANYWAYS that ended up taking my entire morning off and I still have to pack a bag and take a shower and do some notes #oh and also eat #whoops #man why can't I have the whole day off :( #it's such a nice day outside perfect for spending at home

[probably-writing-x]

Armour

Rafe!AU x Reader

Summary: Having your heart broken was one thing. But Rafe watching somebody break your heart? That was something nobody could prepare for.

Warnings: Suggestions of a toxic relationship, cursing, mentions of alcohol / drug dependency, I think that’s everything??

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I LOVED writing this - it took me ages but I just had the idea from this gif and went for it. Let me know if you like it <3

It wasn’t a feeling you could describe. Because, really, it felt like there was no explanation. You’d been in love. You’d been consumed. And now? Nothing. It felt like a part of your future had been torn away in front of you. And you didn’t know why.

For nine years now you’d been dating your boyfriend, James. He was your high school relationship, turned college relationship, and the two of you had returned to the Outer Banks and bought a place together - planning on staying here so that he could work for his father now that the two of you had graduated college.

You’d been living in the house for a year now, down the road from his parents’ home, where he’d grown up. It was weird really, you’d been so certain that you wanted to get off the island. But he’d suggested moving back here and you agreed. That was what was going to keep him happy, anyway. And, plus, him working for his Dad’s company would mean that the two of you were practically set for life. Though it felt strange to think that your life would begin and end here. You’d done it for him, for your relationship, your future with James.

And yet you couldn’t figure out where things had changed. You couldn’t pinpoint a day, a moment, an argument; nothing. One day he was yours and the next he was disappearing. And, as much as you wanted to keep him, there was only so much it was in your control.

It was a day burned into your mind, one that would remain burned there for a long time. The way he’d looked at you, cold and heartless. The way he’d spoken, yelled and screamed when you disagreed. And, just like that, he’d packed a bag and walked out towards his parents’ place, telling you that it was over. Nine years of a relationship slipping away, disappearing into the dark of your first night alone.

Sarah had come round that night and stayed with you, her baby bump growing into her fifth month of pregnancy. She’d stayed with you on the couch as you cried, still been there in the morning when your eyes were tired and puffy. She’d stayed the entire day and helped pack up as many of your things as you could, called John B to get him to help take your stuff to their house.

They lived where the chalet used to be, in a house John B had built with the boys, much bigger than what they used to have. One of the rooms was taken up by the starts of their nursery, and they’d already set up an air mattress in the other room for you, a spare sheet and comforter folded on top. You didn’t sleep much more than a couple of hours that night either, or the night after, and you only slept from exhaustion on the fourth night.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Sarah knocks gently on the door before letting herself in, “How are you doing?”

You pull yourself to sit up in the bed, pushing yourself back against the headboard, drawing your knees to your chest, “I’m okay, just tired.”

She frowns and comes to sit on the bed beside you, her hand squeezing your knee, “So, you don’t have to see him if you don’t want to, but my brother is flying back today.”

Rafe. Her older brother. The boy you’d grown up with. He’d been your first kiss at a party when both of you were too young to know what you were doing. He’d been the boy that picked you up from your first drunk night when your parents couldn’t know you’d been drinking. He’d been the one your eyes were drawn to in a crowd of people since you could remember. You hadn’t seen him since the summer after your first year of college. He’d decided to move to New York - taking up a job in the city. The two of you had sat on the dock and spoken for hours and he ended the conversation by telling you he was leaving in the morning. Since then, your paths hadn’t crossed. He was barely home nowadays. But, you suppose, with Sarah being pregnant, it was a better time than any for him to return to the old stomping grounds.

“He’s coming here?” You swallow the lump in your throat.

She nods, “He’s going to sleep on the couch for a couple of nights. I haven’t told him anything about you and James - I figured it was up to you if you wanted to tell him or not.”

You take a deep breath and nod too, “Okay, thank you.”

Sarah squeezes your leg again and places her other hand over her bump, pushing herself up to stand, “John B is making some food if you want any breakfast. I’d make the most of it, he hates cooking normally,” She laughs, the sympathy still casting a shadow over her bright eyes.

Sarah knew how things were with you and Rafe, as much as she never mentioned it to you - it was a conversation that it felt like the two of you had already had without any words being spoken. She’d seen his face after the two of you kissed, the way he blushed and stuttered afterwards. She’d watched the way things had changed between you when you and James got together, the way Rafe seemed to distance. And she’d watched the pain in your eyes the day he left, like a little window through to the ache that seemed to never leave your heart. And, right now, she’d seen the slightest glimmer of hope in you at the mention of him coming home.

For the first time in a few days, you find yourself actually wanting to get up, get ready, feel a little human for the day. You shower and do all of your skincare, spending a little longer on it than you usually do. You half-dry your hair and plait it instead of leaving it to frizz around your head, and you change into clean clothes from the duffle bag of things that you and Sarah had packed up from your house - well, what was your house.

By the time you come downstairs, John B and Sarah are sat at the dining table, tucking into plates of food with a fresh pot of coffee and a jug of orange juice on the table. One of his arms is around the back of her chair, his eyes bright as he listens to her speak.

“Hey! You’re up!” He looks over and grins as you come down the stairs, “How are you feeling today?”

You smooth a hand over the two braids on your head and smile, feeling like you have to force it just a little less than before, “Better, thank you.”

“Good, well there’s food here if you want it,” He gestures to the table, “And eat up quick because Sarah’s eating enough for two at the minute.”

You laugh and make your way over, sitting down at the opposite side of the table. From the angle, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror in their lounge and the sight doesn’t feel like yourself. Your eyes are dark underneath, something no eye cream would fix after just one use. And your body seems weirdly shrunken in the sweatshirt around your figure. It sits long over your arms and so baggy that you can’t make out the shape of your torso. Your skin looks drier and your lips are chapped. But you remind yourself that you feel a little more human today and it seems to ease the worry for a while, your breath feeling less shaky as you turn back to the food.

“Oh shit, I didn’t realise the time,” John B glances at the clock, “I promised I’d go and help Pope build their crib before I went to pick your brother up - apparently I’m a pro at it now.”

Pope and Cleo were also expecting, due just a month after Sarah and John B’s baby would likely be born. They lived in a house not far from his parents’ place. JJ and Kie had come back to the Outer Banks a few months ago after travelling for a year - though they said it was less travelling and more finding as many places to surf as they could. Before that, Kie had been working on turtle conservation in a few different projects and JJ had been flying out everywhere with her - experiencing the world as a pair. They had no plans of marriage, or kids, or even where to settle, but that was perfect for them; chasing another adventure until it felt like they’d done it all. And you - whilst it felt like all of your friends were starting a new chapter, yours had just ended and the author was yet to think of where the story would go next. It was as if one of the main characters had just dropped out of the pages, leaving the story in ruins from here on out - all chapters of marriage and pregnancy and growing old together disappearing as quickly as James had told you it was over.

John B kisses Sarah a quick goodbye and grabs the keys to his truck, disappearing outside. A chill flurries through the house but it dissipates quickly, settling back into the home they’d managed to make together. You weren’t sure if you could remember your house feeling like that, and when you think about it for too long, you settle on the fact that maybe it never had.

~~~

It’s early afternoon when you hear the sound of a car in the driveway. And you’re sure your ears prick up to the noise, your heart seeming to pause a little in preparation. You set down the book in your hands and stand up from the couch, glancing at your appearance in the mirror quickly and dragging your fingertips underneath your eyes as if to push the fatigue away from them.

“I think that’s them back,” Sarah comments as she comes downstairs, making her way over to the door, “Yeah, that’s them! Are you okay?”

You glance at her and regather your words, “Of course.”

And, just like that, the door clicks open and the sound of two rumbling voices tumbles into the room, a deep laugh that pauses halfway through.

“Hey little sis!” Rafe’s voice seems no different than when you last heard it, deep and intense but seemingly so comforting.

He grins as he wraps his arms around his sister, cautiously as if the bump between them is the most fragile thing he’s seen. His eyes flick down to the baby bump and back up, shaking his head with the slightest reflection of tears in his eyes.

“I still can’t believe it,” He chuckles, hugging her again, “I was just saying to John B that I-“

As he pulls away from her, his eyes flick back to the only other body in the room. The few metres between you. His shoulders and features soften, his body relaxing just slightly. His smile falters, somewhere close to shock, before returning as bright as it had been before.

“(Y/N)…” His voice seems to trail off, Adam’s apple bobbing and the sound of his duffle bag hitting the floor seeming to echo in the space between you, “Long time no see.”

With that, he strides the short distance between you and wraps his arms around you tightly, tight enough that your feet just slightly lift from the ground. He smells like dark cologne and coffee and his hair is longer than when you’d seen him last, his face seeming fuller and sharper as if he’d grown into himself, a shadow of stubble growing darker around his jawline.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” He comments, settling you back as he steps away from you, hands still gripping your forearms - his eyes seem to graze over you as if checking over.

“Yeah I-“ You clear your throat, voice seeming scratchy as your eyes find it impossible to leave him, “I’m just staying for a few days.”

“God, it’s good to see you,” His brows raise with his smile, a light laugh warming the space between you before Rafe seems to come back to himself, clearing his throat and letting go of his hold around your arms, one of his hands flying up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“I’ll leave your stuff down here if that’s okay, Rafe,” Sarah comments, “Are you sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch?”

He turns away from you and takes a second to rejoin a conversation away from you, nodding, “Yeah, of course. We all know I slept in way worse places after drunk nights before.”

You’d learnt from Sarah that Rafe was completely sober now - he’d stopped the drinking and the drugs not long after you’d gone off to college, and Sarah still swore it was like a weird shift into his old self coming back. You weren’t sure that you knew what she meant - he’d always been Rafe to you.

“Alright, I’ll bring down some pillows and a blanket,” John B nods, jogging upstairs.

Before you can say anything else, your phone starts to ring on one of the side tables by the couch, buzzing loudly against the wooden surface. The screen flashes up with “James” accompanied by a blue heart emoji and a photo of the two of you on vacation that you still hadn’t removed.

“I-“ You feel your cheeks heat, “I should take this.”

You grab the phone and flee down the corridor, only answering the call when you’re outside, the door to the garden remaining ajar behind you.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” He returns, his voice seeming cold even through the speaker of your phone, “Are you still at Sarah’s?”

“Yeah I’m just staying here for a few days I-“

“Okay, I have more of your stuff to drop off,” James cuts in, “I’ll swing by and leave it at the front door.”

“James can we just-“

He hangs up then and the phone feels heavy in your hand, still lightly pressed against your ear as if any part of him still remained. Your heart seems to clench and your bottom lip quivers but you pierce your lips together tightly to stop it, clenching your nails into your palm until the slight sting centres you back into where you were. This morning had felt like a better day, a few steps forward, and within just a few short words you seemed to have tumbled all the way back to square one.

When you turn around and go back inside, it’s just Rafe left in the lounge.

“Where did-“

“Something to do with pregnancy,” Rafe narrows his eyes a little, a small smile on his lips, “But I have no idea what she actually said.”

You nod and wrap your arms around yourself, avoiding his gaze.

He frowns, standing up from the couch, “Is everything okay?”

You nod again.

“I saw you were reading To Kill A Mockingbird, do you like it? I realise I never asked you,” He picks up your copy from the table and brushes a thumb over the worn cover.

He’d given you that book when you’d graduated. You’d read it front to back at least four times since then, sometimes just reading the annotations that he’d put in the margins instead of the printed words on the page.

“It’s the one I gave you,” His brows drop as if in sudden realisation, and his eyes seem brighter like they’re swelling with the hints of pride in his heart, “I didn’t even realise it was the same one. I can’t believe you’ve still got this.”

You fiddle with the material on the sleeves of your jumper, noticing how it seems to scratch at your skin more now, “Yeah, same one.”

Rafe glances up and the pride in his eyes seems to etch towards worry, “(Y/N), what’s going on?”

You shake your head again, “Um, I think I’m going to go and lie down. I should probably give you a chance to settle in anyway, you’ve been travelling and everything.”

With a slight stumble over your words, you hurry towards the stairs, disappearing out of his sight before he has the chance to stop you.

~~~

Somewhere between then and now, you’d fallen asleep. You wake up hours later and the sun has shifted to the afternoon angle that meant it no longer came burning through the window in the spare bedroom. The house is quiet but you can hear the sound of conversation downstairs, quiet voices and hushed tones.

When you open your bedroom door, the conversation becomes clearer - Rafe and Sarah.

“She’s not herself, why won’t you tell me what’s happened?” Rafe says, and you can hear the worry injected into his words.

“Rafe, I can’t tell you for her, you’ve just got to wait until she’s ready to talk about it,” Sarah explains, “It’s been years since you two have seen each other, you can’t blame her for not wanting to talk to you about stuff yet.”

“We used to talk about everything, I knew everything about her,” Rafe returns, “I’ve just… I’ve missed her. And I’ve come back but it still feels like I haven’t got her back.”

You feel the weight settle and flutter on your chest, a weird combination between wanting to run down to him and run away from it all. It felt weird to have Rafe back when you felt so distant from yourself. The closest to him you’d been in years and yet feeling like the furthest from you.

One of the floorboards creaks beneath your feet and their conversation quickly ceases. You take that as your sign to go downstairs, feeling a little more human now that you’d caught up on another few hours of sleep.

“Hi honey,” Sarah smiles warmly, “There’s a box of stuff for you on the counter.”

“Of course there is,” You roll your eyes at her and she laughs a little, “Thank you.”

It’s an unlabelled box, likely one of the small ones you’d used to move into the house in the first place. But you take the lid on top as a sign to not open it - whatever was in there you probably didn’t want to be thinking about now. It could be opened on one of your bad days when you needed to cry. Until then, it could definitely be ignored.

“Alright I’m just going to call John B and get him to pick up some dinner on the way home,” Sarah comments, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge instead.

Rafe is leaning back against one of the counters, a red solo cup in his hand, his eyes looking down as he swirls around the liquid in the cup.

“I thought you stopped drinking,” You comment, gesturing to his hands.

He chuckles a little and looks up at you, “Yeah, yeah, I did. It’s just water. This was the first cup I could find.”

You nod and walk over to him, leaning against the kitchen island opposite Rafe so that you were facing him, your arms folding over your chest.

“So, how’s New York?”

Rafe smiles, “Very different from home. Sometimes a good different, other times not so much. Just a lot to get used to, you know?”

You nod in agreement but don’t say anything.

“Makes me realise how much I miss from home.”

Your eyes find his again and both of you smile just enough for it to be visible. The air feels warmer between you, warmer still every time your eyes meet.

“So, you moved back here, to the Outer Banks, glad to come home?”

“I don’t-“ You purse your lips for a second, “I did, when I first got back. I don’t know anymore.”

He’s silent in return and your eyes lose contact, yours flicking to the floor. Rafe stretches out one of his feet and nudges at your ankle, tapping you, “Hey.”

You look up and let your eyes return to his, his gaze softening as his words quieten. The tension in you seems to relax just enough.

“What happened, (Y/N)?”

You feel the lump reform in your throat, the way it seems to constrict any chance you have of speaking, the way your muscles feel weaker, like you could crumble there and then, “I don’t know.”

The words come out barely audible, scratching from your tongue as your bottom lip trembles a little.

“One day we were fine, the next he told me it was over,” You half-laugh because you’re certain it’s the only way you can avoid crying, though tears are already blurring your vision, “I don’t know what happened.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe steps forward and pulls your arms from around your torso, guiding them around his back before wrapping his own arms around you too, letting your head bury onto his chest. He brings a hand up to your hair and keeps you close to him, tightening his hold on you as much as he possibly can.

You let yourself cry into him, tears staining the t-shirt as you grip onto the material at the back, holding him like you’re terrified that he’ll slip away too. Despite the way you need him to hold you, you’re sure that he needs you too - in the way his chin rests on top of your hair, the way he adjusts every few seconds as if reassuring himself that you couldn’t get any closer.

The pair of you stay like that for a short infinity, neither of you wanting to be the first to move, both of you certain that years of emotion is pouring into the single gesture, the single contact after years without. A short infinity.

~~~

That night, you sit down for dinner with Sarah, John B and Rafe. They all make sure that you fill your plate of food first, and encourage you to have the last slice of pizza. They look at you with a sense of relief on their features, like you were back just a little more than you had been. Rafe’s arm settles over the back of your chair, his other hand wrapped around a glass of water. He looks at you when you speak and chuckles deeply when you make a quiet joke. You feel the most human you’ve felt in years.

And when you go to bed that night, it feels less likely that you’ll be lying awake questioning everything, much more likely that you’ll sleep soundly. You change into your pyjamas - a baggy t-shirt and a pair of shorts - and get under the covers, tugging them up to your neck.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door, a little tap like it isn’t sure if it wants to be heard.

“Come in,” You announce, pushing yourself to sit up a little against the headboard.

It’s Rafe on the other side, only his silhouette visible against the dark of the room, the light of the corridor illuminating him from behind, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” He whispers into the dark, “I was just downstairs and I realised you left this.”

His hands are wrapped around the copy of your book, the pages slightly folded at the corner.

“Oh, right, yeah, I forgot it,” You smile, “Thank you.”

“You just, you normally always read before bed,” He continues, bringing it over as the bedroom door starts to shut slowly behind him, “Well, you used to, I don’t know if you still do that anymore, I just remember when you used to- I’m sorry, I’m rambling.”

You laugh a little and he sets the book down on your nightstand.

“So, you promise you’re okay?”

“I will be,” You return, watching as he stands awkwardly at the side of your bed, like he’s completely out of place, “Do you want to sit down?”

His mouth opens and closes like he’s not sure what to say but he nods, walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting down beside you, looking out of place still in his clothes from the day.

You’re both silent, illuminated by the slither of light coming through from the ajar bedroom door. On the far side of the room, there’s a vanity stretching across the wall, it’s scattered with a few of your belongings, and right in the middle sits the box that James had dropped off earlier.

Rafe nods his head in the direction of it, “So, have you opened that?”

You look at him and frown, “No, no I haven’t.”

“Don’t you want to know what he’s given you?”

You laugh a little, “I can tell you want to know. Go and get it, let’s open it.”

He chuckles and scrambles to stand up, grabbing the box and bringing it back over. Rafe settles himself back into the bed and sets the box down between the two of you, “Go on, you do the honours.”

You laugh and take the lid off. The box is only half full, littered with a few relatively meaningless things. There’s a couple of your tops, a jewellery box you took when you went on vacation, a couple of bracelets, a photoframe - empty, though that had once held a photo of you and James together.

“Holy shit! You kept this?” Rafe exclaims, picking up a shot glass that had been buried under a few things.

The glass had come from a night the two of you had snuck into the bar near the port. You’d managed to pick the lock on the door, spent hours just the two of you chatting and figuring out random drinks to make. Rafe had poured you shots of every liquor he could find and you’d shared each one, grimacing a little less with every shot as the alcohol started to take effect. You’d left some time after sunrise, managed to stumble your way down to the beach, and woke up hours later with the shot glass still held in your grasp. It had come with you to college, and came back when you moved back home. A little pocketed story that only you and Rafe knew.

“Of course I did,” You giggle, “That was a good night.”

Rafe traces his thumb around the top of the glass, “Yeah, it was I loved that night.”

“Do you remember it?” You scoff, “We were wasted.”

You remembered it. You were so sure he was going to kiss you, then. To kiss you for the first time that wasn’t controlled by a party game. To kiss you for the first time away from a party of laughing eyes. He’d looked at you like he was going to kiss you, but he never did. Though, when you slept, he’d linked his fingers with yours, squeezing three times before both of you fell asleep. His hand, just like the shot glass, had still been in yours hours later.

“I remember.”

The silence falls once again as both of you pick and pull at the rest of the objects in the box. Nothing takes much interest after that, but you find yourself instead drawn to what was missing.

“It’s not in here,” You mumble, pulling through the box one more time to check again.

“What isn’t?” Rafe frowns, “What’s not there?”

“It’s um-“ You clear your throat, glancing up at him, “It’s stupid really.”

He shakes his head, “It’s not stupid, what is it?”

“Do you remember that little giraffe I used to have? My nana got it for me when I was a kid, it’s not in here, and I couldn’t find it when me and Sarah got my stuff. It’s not here,” You frown again, taking out the shot glass and closing the lid on the rest of the box.

“Well, it’s got to be at the house somewhere,” Rafe shrugs, “We’ll find it.”

You half-laugh, setting the box down on the floor beside the bed, “What are we going to do? Break into the house?”

Your laugh continues but Rafe’s stops after a split second, shrugging his shoulders, “Let’s do it.”

You halt in your movements, looking at the way his eyes seem so set on you, like nothing could tear them away, “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

~~~

That’s how, within the hour, you’re walking up towards your old house, it looking eerie and dark in your absence, the flowers you’d planted outside looked dry even after a few days without you here and it bubbled a new sense of loss inside you, like a part you hadn’t thought you’d lose - a mundane part that just added to the rest.

“Do you still have a key?” Rafe hisses from beside you as you both walk up the driveway.

“No, I left it at home,” You return, glancing up at him.

“What?” Rafe raises his brows, “We came all the way here and yo-“

“Kidding,” You smile, pulling the key from your pocket, “This is still my house too until he settles everything.”

Rafe grins, “I like the way you think (Y/L/N).”

You step up to the door and go to unlock it. Rafe steps forward, his hand wrapping around yours before you can move. He looks at you and presses the index finger of his other hand to his lips, guiding his hand around yours to turn the key in the lock. The door creaks when it opens and you both wince, letting it close slowly behind you.

“Damn, this is a nice place,” Rafe whispers, glancing around the downstairs rooms of the house.

You look at him and roll your eyes, “That makes me feel better.”

He laughs quietly and clasps his hands together, widening his eyes at the quiet noise that seems to echo around the house, “So where are we going?”

“I don’t know where it would be,” You shake your head, “Maybe the lounge?”

He outstretches a hand, “Lead the way.”

You take Rafe’s hand in yours as the two of you go towards the lounge. You bump into the couch as you step into the room and he stumbles behind you, hands flying to your waist to stop you from falling.

“We’re not exactly pros at this,” Rafe laughs, letting you balance yourself again as you stand up, your back pressing against his chest.

You glance down at yourself, a baggy hoodie over a pair of shorts, a pair of crocs on your feet, and him, a pair of slacks and a checkered shirt with a couple of buttons undone. He steps back from you and glances around the dark room, pulling out his phone and flicking on the flashlight. It casts a circle of light across the room as you start to look around, noticing the empty spots where photos of the two of you used to decorate the space. There are a few takeout boxes sprawled over the coffee table and a line of empty beer cans, one of them rolling along the floor when you step beside it.

“I can’t see anything,” Rafe hisses, flashing the light in your direction before you squint at the sight, blocking the brightness from your eyes, “Ooh sorry I-“

You both freeze then as a light flicks on upstairs, the hallway light.

“Who’s that?” Rafe mouths in your direction and you look at him like it’s the worst thing you’ve heard, watching the realisation sink onto his face just a second later.

Before either of you can say anything, there’s the sound of feet padding down the stairs, picking up their pace as they near you. Rafe takes a stride across the room, bumping shoulders with you as he comes to a stop.

“Who the f-“ James rounds the corner, “(Y/N)? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I ju-“

“Rafe?” James interjects, “What? Did you hear (Y/N) was single and catch the next flight back?”

“Hey, no, that’s not what-“ You begin again.

“Fucking unbelievable,” James interrupts you again, “What are you doing in my house?”

“Cut it out, asshole. Stop interrupting her,” Rafe cuts in, and you can instantly sense his change in demeanour, the way he shifts on his feet, “And this is (Y/N)’s house too, you got that?”

James scoffs, folding his arms over his chest, “What? So you brought Rafe here to fight your battles?”

“No, no,” You blush at the discomfort, “I just needed some of my things. Well, no, not some, just one thing actually, it’s stupid, just a little thing… I just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Seb. He wasn’t in the box of stuff.”

“What? That weird giraffe thing you brought everywhere,” James scoffs, “That’s really that important?”

“Um,” You laugh a little to relieve some of the awkward tension clenching your chest, “No, I guess it’s not important but we were just talking, well, we were looking through the box and we realised it wasn’t there and Rafe, um, Rafe said-“

“Rafe?” James scoffs, “You’re kidding, right?”

“Seriously, man, cut it out,” Rafe repeats, stepping forward just a little as if he’s protecting you, not enough to block you off but enough for you to know that he was there, “I don’t care if you don’t think it’s important, you’re done making her feel bad for things she cares about - do you understand that?”

James lets out a laugh that seems to echo around the room and scratch at your ears, sending an uncomfortable shiver up your spine, “How the hell do you know what she wants? What’s this? The first time you’ve been home in how many years?”

“Yeah, well, good timing I’d call it. Something about some asshole that didn’t realise how lucky he was,” Rafe cocks a brow.

“Rafe…” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re shrinking into the room but he looks back at you and nods just gently, reassuring you. And you’re surprised when it works, settling the fear in your heart.

“So what? You think you come back and know everything about her? Like you’re some sort of knight in shining armour?” James scoffs, “You don’t know jackshit about her, let alone our relationship.”

Rafe laughs and steps away from you, narrowing his eyes at James before letting out a slow breath, shaking his head as he walks the length of the room, “Oh you really are an asshole.”

James doesn’t say anything, watching as Rafe strides the room, a harsh air about him you were sure he hadn’t shown in years, perhaps since he’d last seen you.

“You’re dating a woman like (Y/N) for nine years. Nine years. Nine fucking years you had her there for you - picking up the phone when you’d call, letting you complain about your bad days, not thinking to mention it when your cooking was terrible, always always thinking of you before anything else. And what? That wasn’t good enough?”

“This is nothing to do with you Cameron,” James defends, shifting his stance.

“You hurt (Y/N),” Rafe steps forward until he is less than a foot from James, staring at him coldly, “That means it does have something to do with me. In fact, it has a hell of a lot to do with me.”

You’re watching the scene unfold as if it’s fiction, as if this is a cross between a dream and a nightmare that you were about to wake up from. This Rafe isn’t the same boy that he was with you, he’s never this cold with you. But with someone that had done you wrong? He was a completely different version of himself.

He’s close enough to James now that you’re practically counting down the seconds until he’ll swing a fist at him, it’s inevitable. But you shift in your spot and he glances back to look at you, his eyes softening when they meet with yours. His brows relax and the features of his face do with them, settling into himself a little. His lips smile a little against the tension in his jaw and he takes a deep breath in, turning back to James.

“I don’t know what you’re doing. I don’t know what you think you’re gaining from all of this. But we’re gonna go now,” Rafe’s words don’t shift from their blunt tone, each word feeling calculated and exact, “And you’re going to go to bed, in a house that’s not fully yours, in a bed you used to share. And you’re going to wake up the next morning and the morning after that and again and again, and every time you’ll be on your own. You might not realise it now, maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but you’ll realise it. You’ll realise that every single day you’re waking up without (Y/N) here, you’re missing the one damn thing that made your life worth it.”

He clenches his jaw again and watches as James swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes flicking to you.

“Oh, here it is,” Rafe reaches down to the couch and picks up the toy giraffe you’d been looking for, holding it in his hand, “Good seeing you, James.”

He hits your ex on his chest as if a friendly gesture but it knocks James back just enough for him to be reminded of his place. Rafe looks back at you and offers you the same smile as before, offering you your exit as you make your way over to him. He lets you step in front and places a hand to your back, guiding you out of the house, slamming the door behind the two of you. And for the first time since you’d left this house days ago, you feel alive.

#Rafe #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n #rafe cameron x reader #Rafe cameron x you #Rafe cameron x y/n #rafe imagine #rafe one shot #rafe drabble #rafe blurb #rafe chapter #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron chapter #outerbanks imagine #outerbanks one shot #outerbanks drabble #outerbanks blurb #outerbanks chapter #rafe!au #Rafe cameron!au #Outerbanks!au

[corpsebasil]

Could you do a Nikolai x reader one, where there's a lot of pinning and in the rain confession in the end ?

Ohhhhh yes

Just Stay -> Nikolaiiiiii

summary: when you and Nikolai break up, you don’t want to spoil the reunion in Kerch with each other’s bullshit

He’d made you swear not to say anything, and you’d agreed.

You’d practically thrown yourself into Alina’s arms when you saw her; she’d grown even more beautiful since you last saw the girl and Mal, at her side, even more rugged somehow.

“The treasure of my heart!” She cooed, pinching your cheek as Mal gave you a one armed hug like he would a sister.

“You look good Y/N. Nice to see you. Now where’s…” Mal trailed off and sprinted, leaping onto Nikolai so fast the two men toppled to the floor.

You laughed at the sight and tried to ignore the twinge that went through you at the sight. The four of you had always been close. Always. Alina nudged you and raised a brow.

“Those two will never stop being brothers.” She giggled, tugging you along. “Come on. The Crows are here. They’re dying to see you!”

You followed, watching as Nikolai pushed himself to his feet on the docks, laughing as he dusted dirt off his pants. Then his eyes slid to yours and his smiled tightened. You forced yourself to extract yourself from Alina, mumbling about ‘you know how fiancés are’ and moving to Nikolai’s side.

“Sweetheart.” You greeted him, and Mal winked at him before chasing after Alina.

“Darling.” He smiled politely, tone completely lacking any sign of tension.

“Need help with your bag?” You offered, tilting your head with a smirk as he looked you up and down. “Princely muscles are so delicate.”

He raised a brow and flexed his arm, giving you a perfect view of the corded golden skin. Saints, his arms had gotten even bigger since you’d last seen him. You’d tried not to ogle him the entire ship ride to Kerch, and your face had reddened when he caught your glances.

It had been six months. Six months since he’d come to your rooms and told you it was over. No explanation. Nothing. Just a calm, ‘I’m sorry, but I cant marry you’ and he left. After spending the entire night in utter numbness, unable to even summon a tear through your shock, you sought out the prince. It was an arranged marriage, sure, but you two loved each other. You shared stories, kisses, beds—you loved him. Desperately. And when you knocked on his door, he was gone.

He was gone, and the staff said they didn’t know when he’d be back or where he’d went. So you’d packed your bags and went back to Fjerda that same morning.

“Try not to pop a vein.” You told him, raising a brow at his flex. He smiled coyly and rolled his eyes, taking a step forward.

“I hear princesses are delicate too. How are those dainty fingers of yours doing, Love?” He took your hands in his, his, warm, calloused thumbs running over your palms as if to test the smoothness, and you fought every instinct to rip away. Especially when his hands turned your own over, both of you looking at the Lantsov ring resting where it had used to sit before. “Your hands are just as soft as I remember.” He chuckled weakly, blue eyes finding your own.

Your smile faltered and you pulled your hands back slowly, feigning wiping something off your bodice as you turned away. The ring was still heavy. The guards had taken it from you after you and Nikolai had split, not allowing you to take it off Palace grounds. As if you wanted the damn reminder anyways.

“We should catch up with them.” You said, not looking back as you followed Alina and Mal.

-

“Fucking hell.” You mumbled, dropping your bag on the floor as you entered the room at the Inn that Alina had arranged for you. Nikolai didn’t seem any more pleased than you, grumbling something as he dumped his bag on the floor beside yours.

“Left or right side?”

“You think I wanna share a bed with you?”

He paused. “What if one of the group comes in during the middle of the night?”

“For what? Why could they possibly have a reason to come in?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. A fire drill?”

You cursed and dropped onto the bed, splaying out as you shut your eyes. You had a pounding headache—had since you’d seen him again—and the proximity was making it worse. That mint smell of him along with his expensive cologne and, underneath that, the scent that was his alone? It was making you dizzy.

“How long do we have to keep this up?” You asked, flinging your arms above your head. Your fingers brushed his thighs and you jerked them away, looking up at him with a glare. He was acting innocent, whistling a tune as if he wasn’t just leaning his entire bottom half over you to snatch up a pillow. “And keep your junk out of my face.”

“Never had an issue with it befor—hey!” He exclaimed when you whacked him with the nearest pillow, and hard. “Calm down! I’m just messing with you.” At your icy glare his expression sobered, and he sat on the bed next to your head. “We pretend—I mean, they’ve wanted to see us together for so long—until we leave, I guess. Or we stage a fight believable enough that they think we would’ve broken up.”

“Why’d you emphasize it?”

“What?”

“You said ‘we’ in a weird way. Like us breaking up was impossible.” You sat up on an elbow, eyes searching his face. “We did break up, Nik, remember?” Your chest tightened, and you tried to force away the memories that rose.

Like the way you still reached for his side of your bed sometimes when you woke up, or when you had a nightmare, your mind too slow to remember you weren’t in Ravka.

Or the way you’d stolen one of his shirts and slept with it for a week straight before a maid saw it in your dirty clothes and washed it. You’d struck her for it and immediately regretted it, but the agony of not having his scent anymore made you drop to your knees and sob.

How you hardly ate—hardly slept—for two months without him.

And then there was when you’d heard rumors of him courting someone else in Ravka. A different princess perhaps, or a lady. That news had holed you up in your room for a week.

It killed you that he seemed to be completely happy and unbothered by your reunion. As if he hadn’t broken your heart into a million pieces and left you alone without so much as an explanation. You stared at him now, watching his expression change from seriousness to shame, and you turned your head away.

“You can come up with the plan.” You mumbled, climbing out of the bed and stepping to the floor. His silence was as heavy as a blanket over your shoulders, suffocating you. “I’m tired of reliving our breakup every day of my fucking life.”

You heard a small strangled sound come from his throat but you didn’t turn around, not when you shut the door behind you.

-

That night, you met up with Alina, Mal, and Nina at the Crow Club, Inej, Jesper, and Kaz busy doing god knows what. You found yourself seated in a crowded booth next to Nikolai, one leg slung over his thigh, his arm around your shoulders.

The pose was so familiar, one you’d done a hundred times, and maybe it was the muscle memory of it that made you ache so much. Neither of you had spoken on the way to the Club; you because you had absolutely no desire to talk to him ever again if unnecessary; him because his head was so full of grief over your words it was eating him alive.

I’m tired of reliving our breakup every day of my fucking life.

What was he even supposed to say to that?

He was watching you now, his smile wide and relaxed as his thumb ran small circles against your shoulder-blade. The others couldn’t see but it didn’t matter. He’d been craving your skin, your smell, all of you since he’d left, and now that he had you in his arms again, at least for the next two days, he was going to soak in every second of it.

“When’s the wedding?” Nina asked, popping an olive into her mouth as she wiggled her eyebrows. If she heard the way the two of you’s heart rates picked up, she chalked it up to excitement.

“We haven’t picked—” You started, just as Nikolai said, “Working on a venue.” The two of you glanced at one another, eyes snapping like electric cords before looking back to Nina. You dug your sharp nails into his thigh as he bit back a groan. “It’s still early days.”

“Early days?” Alina scoffed, raising her dark brows. “It’s been…what, three years now? Rather long for a royal engagement.” She laughed. No one in the group usually mentioned the fact that the both of you were royals, and the reminder sometimes stung. “Mal and I have been engaged for like two months and we’re getting married within the next few weeks.” Then she gasped, reaching out to take your hand. “You have to be a bridesmaid! Please please pleaaaase?”

She’d already asked you in her letter, the one she’d sent to Nikolai, addressed to the both of you. He’d sent a copy to Fjerda, along with his plea for the both of you to play nice and see Alina so there was no confusion about your relationship before her special day.

“I’ll try my best.” You said, smiling tightly as you squeezed her hand. Nikolai had already agreed to be Mal’s best man but to be honest? You wouldn’t be attending that wedding. You couldn’t stomach it.

“Oh please please come on!”

“Alina.” Nina mumbled, shooting the girl a look, and Alina raised a brow.

“What?”

“Let her breathe. She’s travelled a long way.” The Heartrender said, smiling as she slid all-too-knowing eyes to yours. You looked away, hoping she couldn’t see the pain in your eyes as you pressed your cheek against Nikolai’s shoulder, breathing him in.

The others began discussing wedding preparations when Nikolai’s fingers began to run across the nape of your neck, threading through your hair. When you looped you arms around his waist as if to snuggle him, you were surprised to see goosebumps jump up on the skin of his arm. And then you were surprised to hear his slight intake of breath, his hand that wasn’t on your neck moving under the table to touch your knee.

You swallowed.

“What do you think, Nik?” Mal asked, and the prince blinked quickly.

“Hmm?”

“About going on the Volkvolny. For the honeymoon?”

“Oh.” Nikolai’s brows knit. “You and Alina or—?”

“Duh.” Alina laughed, but she looked confused. “Aren’t you listening?”

“Of course, sorry. That sounds great.”

“Thank you.” Mal told him with a genuine smile, and then your breath caught when his hand pushed the hem of your dress up, only far enough to slide against the smooth skin of your knee.

You missed his touch. God you missed it, but… You moved away from him and stood, giving the others a sorrowful look that was easy not to fake.

“I’m feeling sick, guys. I’m sorry.” You said, a hand on your stomach. You were queasy, actually. “I’m gonna go to the Inn. See you for breakfast?”

“Yeah..” Alina smiled faintly, but it dropped when you left, headed out into the night sky.

You’d barely been ten seconds out the door before Nikolai sprinted after you, grabbing your hand. You ripped it away and whirled to him, holding your hands up in a placating gesture. He was breathing a bit heavily, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you.

“What is it?” He asked, scanning you with his eyes. “Are you sick? Do you need to puke or—”

“Just go inside, Nikolai. I just want to go to bed, okay?”

“Alina was excited to talk to you about the wedding. She has all these plans and—”

”I’m not going to the wedding.” You snapped, staring at him like he was crazy person. “I’ll be in Fjerda by then. I have a life now, Nik.”

He swallowed.

“But she’s your friend. Your best friend.”

“She used to be my best friend.” You argued. “She hasn’t seen me since—” you paused. “It doesn’t matter.” You turned and he once again jumped in front of you, halting your tracks.

“What do you mean used to?”

God did you have to spell it out for him?

“My friends are your friends.” You said, shaking your head. “When you broke off the engagement you effectively cut me off from all of my existing friendships. Cant you see that?”

“Oh.” He said dumbly and you pushed past him again. He still trailed after you though. “But cant you try to make it?” He asked, even as you gritted your teeth. “It’s a special day for her and—”

“And what?” You were stunned by the sharpness by your tone, more so by the sound of a barely suppressed sob in your throat. Nikolai looked alarmed as well. “And watch you stand up beside an altar? All while I’m sitting there, picturing me beside you? I—” you covered your hand with your mouth and turned away, shaking your head. “No. I’m not going to the wedding with you, Nikolai. I’m not going to go anywhere near a wedding with you, ever.”

“You cannot mean that.”

“Then read my lips.” You turned, glaring fiercely, barely a foot from the prince. “I’d. Rather. Die.”

This time he didn’t follow, not as you hurried back to the Inn, eager to go to sleep. You’d leave in the morning, you decided. And as you curled up in the cold bed, empty and vast around you, you fell asleep the way you usually did, counting down, imagining it was his arms hugging you to sleep instead of your own.

-

You jolted awake around four in the morning to a warm body pressed to your back. At first you thought you were dreaming, but no. Nikolai’s soft breaths stirred the hair at the back of your neck, his face buried in your shoulder as he slept. His arm was looped around your waist, hoping you tight against him. You were tense but then, against better judgement, relaxed into his hold.

It’d been so long. Long enough for you to pretend, at least for one sleepy moment, that this was real. That he still loved you. That he still… still…

You woke again, eyes snapping open to see light in the windows. You heard a groan and tensed up again. Nikolai’s legs had become tangled with yours, your head resting on his bicep as both his arms wrapped around you. You had no idea how you’d gotten like that but it felt so good, you didn’t dare move.

“Y/N…” Nikolai mumbled against your neck and you waited for him to tense up. To pull away. Instead, he pressed a kiss against your bare shoulder, revealed by your nightgown, and you got chills, your stomach twisting. “Missed this..missed…you.”

“You’re just half asleep.” You argued, voice a faint whisper. You heard an incoherent mumble and felt a slow nod that made you frown.

“Didn’t want to go…” he moaned, holding you closer, “…made…me..” and then a soft snore left him, and your eyes were so wide you didn’t know what to do or think.

“Nik?” You asked, heart hammering, but he was fast asleep. “Nik?”

You laid for a moment, mind whirling, before you sat up. You shook him roughly, pushing his arms off of you, and he groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“My love.” He grumbled, still half asleep. “It’s early.”

“Don’t call me—“ you paused, exasperated. “What the fuck were you saying? Who made you? Made you do what?”

This time his eyes opened, reality sinking visibly into his expression as he sat up, his sleepy face growing hard. He shook his head quickly, slinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Nothing. I was dreaming.”

“But you…” You swallowed. “Don’t lie to me. I know when you’re lying.”

“I’m taking a shower.” He mumbled, pulling away when you touched his arm, and you watched him pad sleepily into the bathroom, his shoulders stiff.

Afterwards, after waiting in tense silence for almost twenty minutes, he slunk out of the bathroom, blue eyes meeting yours. His chest was bare and—and—

“What the—” You stood up quickly, moving forward. Your eyes drank in the skin of him, yes, but they lingered on the scar on his shoulder. A fresh, still pink scar, slightly raised. A bullet wound. “When did this happen?” You breathed, eyes meeting his own. Searching.

He swallowed.

“I um..” he trailed off, looking away from you with a look of shame on his face. “I cant talk about it.”

“Nikolai.”

“Im not allowed, Y/N, okay? It’s not important.” He moved past you to grab a shirt, getting dressed quickly. You didn’t look lower than his waistline as he dropped the towel, tugging trousers up his hips. “Let’s just meet up with Alina and Mal, alright? I don’t want to cause drama for them.”

“For them?” You stared at his back, tense even through the fabric. “You got shot and you don’t want to cause drama for them?” Your throat grew tight. “What about me?”

“This isn’t about you.”

“Then what is it about, Nikolai? Because the last time I saw you, you certainly hadn’t had that—”

“Just leave it, Y/N.” He snapped, voice sharper than you’d ever heard it. You hated the immediate well of tears that rose in your eyes at his tone; never ever had he ever spoken to you even slightly rudely. Never.

“Fine.” You sniffed and turned on your heel, slamming the bathroom door shut behind you.

-

You didn’t go to breakfast.

You refused, adamantly, to be in the same room as him if he wasn’t going to start telling the truth. He was annoyed at first, telling you it was only for a day more, and then pissed, accusing you of being dramatic, and finally, finally he was pleading with you.

“Y/N.” He groaned, following you as you stormed out of the Inn, bag in hand as you walked through the drizzling rain towards the docks. “It’s raining. Go back inside.” You ignored him and he moved quicker to cut you off, his expression pinched. “Please. Just stay with me. Come inside.”

“Stay with you?” Your laugh was so cruel he flinched. “After all your lies and mind games? No. I’m done with you. I never should have come here.”

“Please.” He begged again, reaching out to touch your arms, then stopped himself. “Please. Just—it’s just another day with me, okay?”

“Why did you ask me to come, Nik?” You demanded, angry and hurt. You were exhausted, above all else. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone? Told the others it didn’t work out?”

“Because.” He was breathing heavily, staring down at you as rain ran down across the curve of his cheekbone and jaw. “I couldn’t—I couldn’t tell them.”

“Why?” You asked, and when he didn’t answer, you nodded. “Of course. More of you not answering me—”

“I wanted to see you.” He blurt out, expression pinched. “I wanted—“ he stopped, shaking his head. “I wanted to see you again. I couldn’t let myself let you go.”

“You have to.” You told him, but there was a pleading note in your own voice as well. “I cant—I cant keep loving you. You have to stop this.”

“I cant.”

“Well then you never should’ve left me!”

“They made me!” He snapped, moving closer. “I’m a solider, Y/N! And when the border skirmishes got worse they were losing soldiers every day.” At your confused look he continued, looking like a man with words threatening to explode from him. “I had no choice. I had to go fight.”

“Then why—”

“Because I couldn’t marry you and leave you alone.” He forced out, his voice dragging over a lump in his throat. “I couldn’t—” he choked and looked away, rubbing his eyes. “If I’d have died and you were left alone, I…I couldn’t let that happen. So I cut you loose.”

You stared at him, tears filling your own eyes.

“And the bullet?”

“I was shot. At the border. I thought I wasn’t going to make it and I’d never been so glad I sent you back to Fjerda. You could’ve fallen in love with someone else. You could’ve been happy.”

“Why didn’t you send for me?” You cried, dropping your bag to the ground. “When you healed—you could have sent for me.”

“I did.” He told you, expression agonized. “And my ambassadors refused to send a single letter until I gave them Alina’s.” He swallowed, reaching out to touch your wet cheek. “I’ve thought about you every single day.”

You felt yourself short of breath.

“And now?” You asked, glancing down at the ring. “Now you’ll send me away again? After all this?”

He peered at you, seeming to deflate.

“How can you even want me?” He asked, and you shook your head, unable to speak as you buried yourself into his chest, his arms looping tight around you as you cried. “I love you. I have always loved you. Every second, every breath I take I yearn for you.”

“I would have stayed.” You whispered, feeling his hands run down your back. “Through anything.”

You heard him sniff before he pulled back, tilting your face up to his.

“Will you still stay now?” He asked, his voice a broken plea. “I cannot live any longer without you by my side.” He brought your hand to his shoulder, over the scar, your palm flattening against his coat. “I would take a thousand of these for you. I would fight every day of my life to keep you with me. Just forgive me, princess. Stay.”

You could only look up at him, your heart cleaving as he bent down and kissed you, and the contact after so long was almost unbearable. The two of you seized one another desperately, tears mixing with the rain. And you would, you decided, as Nikolai’s lips promised you his life. His soul.

You’d stay.

see I told you guys I have a hard time not getting carried away LOL

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #six of crows #nikolai lantsov angst #angst

[blessedwithabadomen]

in love with the mess - day six

summary : Aubrey is going on tour and, for once, she's decided to focus on having as much fun as possible. Oli can be a little shit but he does nothing short of adore Audrey and... well, maybe Noah a little, too. Noah likes the flirting, as long as no one gets too close, emotionally. But what will happen when the three of them take it too far?

content : angst, fluff

length : 4k

tags (let me know if you want to be tagged!) : @veronicaphoenix @cookiesupplier @lma1986 @jilliemiw86 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @narcissisticbehavior81 @flowery-mess @shilohrosechicken @justeli6 @starvingarsyn @floatinglikeaswan @somebodyels3 @kageyasma

a/n : hope you're prepared for a bit of angst, I hope I managed to do it justice because it's definitely the genre I'm least used to, but here we go! enjoy and leave a reblog or a comment and I'll love you forever 🥰💗

•••

day six

I barely slept. One reason was the lingering alcohol in my veins making me so dizzy that closing my eyes seemed like a punishment. The other was the fact that my brain was desperately trying to make sense of everything that had transpired that night. I knew, I was fully aware, that this had been what I’d been wanting in a way. But fantisising about these things and actually going through with them were two entirely different things.

I had kissed Noah. I had kissed Oli. They had kissed each other.

It sounded perfect on paper or in a romance novel that was guaranteed a happy ending, but the more the morning light emerged and hit me through the curtains I’d never closed, the more the reality of it weighed on me. Last night, we had crossed some lines that we’d only been eyeing before. Kissing Oli had felt more intimate than all the stuff we’d gotten up to before. As far as I knew, last night also marked the first time Oli and Noah had gotten that close.

How were we going to behave around each other now? We could go and blame it on the alcohol, but I didn’t think that anyone in this constellation could honestly say that it wouldn’t have happened anyway, at some point in time. The temptation had been lingering between us for days. Maybe longer in some cases.

I turned off the alarm on my phone as it blared through the silent room. It hurt my head. A noisy reminder that life had to go on. That I would have to face both of them, without any idea of how they would react. If they regretted it. If they would pull back now. If everything would change for the worse. Or the worst.

My tired body dragged itself through the motions. Shower. Getting dressed. Packing my stuff. No flattering outfit today, just a pair of sweatpants and a comfortable hoodie.

I didn’t meet anyone in the hallway or the lift or the lobby. A few people were already around in the car park, loading in everyone’s stuff, mingling about, smoking another cigarette. I pulled the hood up into my face. I’d avoided the mirror pretty successfully this morning, but I just knew I looked rough. Some people knew I’d been out with Lia last night and they would no doubt love to get some mocking remarks in about my perceived hangover. I didn’t have the nerves for it.

A glimpse of Noah.

My feet immediately stopped dead in their tracks. It shouldn’t have been so surprising, really. Of course, he would be around sooner or later.

He looked just as beat up as I felt. I wished I knew if it was because of the late night or if he’d stayed up wondering too. He looked at me for a second, face paler than I remembered, dark circles appearing under his eyes, and gave me a wave. No smile, no urge to move toward me, no words, just his hand in the air without much conviction.

I waved back, unsure of how to proceed, but someone patted Noah on the back to get his attention. Free from the burning stare, I got onto the bus. I was armed with a few personal things, when I climbed the stairs and made a beeline for my bunk. There was no noise around me. Either everyone was still getting ready or people were being extremely quiet.

The curtain on Oli’s bunk was drawn shut. I tried hard to remember if he’d left it like that the day before or if it was an indication that he was here already, but I came up short. It didn’t matter, in the end. I slipped into my own bunk and closed the curtain. 

Unless Oli decided to go the route of “pretending nothing at all happened”, he probably wouldn’t talk to me anyway. I’d known him long enough. He was the type to battle things on his own for as long as the world allowed him to, before he would talk to anyone or ask for help. I felt like the three of us had that in common. It wasn’t the greatest mix of people when it came to bumps in the road.

I pushed the thoughts away, just like I ignored the slight lump in my throat that I refused to let grow. Picking up my phone from where it had burrowed in my bunk, I took the plunge to check my regular mails again, something I’d been avoiding since getting on this tour. It held the usual disappointments.

A rejection from a job I’d applied for that would have started right after tour.

A mail from my father which got deleted unseen.

Another rejection.

Spam.

An old employer saying they didn’t have any capacities for me any time soon.

More spam.

A mail from my roommate.

The last one took me by surprise, but the content cleared it up immediately. “Got a new phone, lost your number but found your e-mail address on some junk paper in the kitchen. Call me when you can.” With a groan, I put my phone away again. I didn’t know what this was about, but it couldn’t be good. We both weren’t terribly keen on each other, but it was the only place in London I could find that only had one other person living there instead of four, so it seemed like a good deal. I made a mental note to call her later, without much motivation.

Turning on my side, I snuggled into the relatively comfortable bunk. Exhaustion draped itself over me like a heavy blanket. I fell asleep, the hours awake finally catching up with me, and was granted a dreamless few hours.

•••

When I woke up, the curtain to my bunk was disturbed, not closed all the way anymore and I wondered if I’d moved it in my sleep or if someone had come to check up on me. If it was the latter, it was probably someone trying to figure out if I was actually on the bus or if they’d left me in Manchester by mistake. I thought that wouldn’t be all too bad. However, we had arrived in Glasgow, apparently, and there was work to do. With a heavy sigh, I heaved myself out of my quarters. Time to check in to the hotel, check on Oli, get to the venue, soundcheck, the usual.

I found Oli in the hotel lobby, getting his room key. I quickly waved down another receptionist to get my own, only half-heartedly listening to their introduction to the hotel and then legged it after him, only just managing to make it into the lift before the doors closed. I wasn’t going to take silent treatment for an answer. I’d accepted that kind of behaviour more often than I’d like to admit in my life, I wasn’t going to go down that road with Oli.

The doors closed behind me, leaving the two of us in silence. I mustered him, trying to figure out where we were at, where his mind was, how to approach whatever had shifted between us. He didn’t look overly stressed. Or like he hadn’t slept. But I knew he also had a talent to hide it well. My brain was fumbling over what words to choose when he finally looked at me.

Then, without warning or giving me time to prepare, Oli was on me, kissing me hard and fast, and I couldn’t do anything but wrap my arms around him and reciprocate. I helplessly moaned into his mouth, completely at his mercy, and then the lift dinged and both of us flew apart just as the doors opened to our floor.

I stepped out of the lift ahead of him, momentarily confused as to where to go, the sudden kiss having erased all memories of my room number, but Oli passed me by easily, walking into whatever direction I figured was probably the correct one for me too.

“Oli!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop until he was at the door. I watched as he unlocked it and shoved his suitcase in so it would stay open. “Aren’t we going to talk?”

“What about?” I could practically see the shield he had put up. It was a sight that hadn’t greeted me in years, taking me aback and confusing me. Him being distant, hiding away, not letting me in, not letting me see the real him felt like a punishment. But it was exactly what he was doing, hanging about in the middle of the doorframe, an arrogant look on his face that I knew was nothing but a mask. I hated this side of him as much as it worried me.

“Last night? Starting with the fact that we kissed?”

He cocked his eyebrow at me with a smirk, but it wasn’t honest and it wasn’t reassuring. It was annoying. “Yeah, and? We just did again. Ain’t that what we’d been working towards? Having a little snog? Well, there you go.”

I swallowed my anger at the way he was presenting things, twisting what was happening, downplaying it. It took a deep breath to convince me to stay calm. He was doing this to keep himself from being vulnerable, not to be an arsehole, I tried to remind myself. Unfortuantely, it didn’t help that he sounded and looked every bit like a cunt in that moment.

“What about Noah then? Also just a game to you?”

There was a flicker of something on his face, something that was threatening to break through his facade, but he quickly regained his composure.

“What if it is?”

I didn’t have an answer to that, stunned by the audacity. Both of us knew that he was lying, but he was clinging to his version of things so adamantly it made me want to punch his face. I couldn’t tell where I found the strength to keep myself from doing it. Probably the idea of what this whole mess could do to Noah.

I needed to talk to Noah.

“Right, that it?” Oli asked, apparently bored out of his mind. “If you want a quick fuck, you’re welcome to come in. If not, I’ll see you at soundcheck.”

The door fell into the lock before I could respond. Fucking prick. I thought he had learned, in the past years, I really did, but this just proved that he was a stubborn as ever. With a noise of frustration, I harshly stamped my foot into the carpet underneath, just to rid myself of some of the tension. It didn’t work.

•••

Neither Oli nor Noah were anywhere to be found when I got to the venue. My messages to both of them had somehow gone unread, which frustrated me even more. One of them was supposed to be my boss which made my work impossible. The other didn’t seem like the type to not check his phone which was equal parts weird. It wasn’t until someone tipped me off that at least Noah had been seen getting back to his dressing room that I finally had some success.

Well. Technically, I had twice the success because Oli was leaving the room right as I reached it. I was about to ask him what was going on, why wasn’t he answering my mails, did he really have no need for me today, but he simply nodded in recognition and sauntered past me. One problem after the other, I told myself, knocking and letting myself into Noah’s dressing room.

Noah was sitting on the sofa, cross-legged, looking up at me with wide eyes. I let myself fall onto the cushions next to him, utterly exhausted by the day and it wasn’t even showtime. Without a word, Noah put his arm around me, allowing me to rest my head on his shoulder. The comfort spread through me like a hot cup of tea.

“Are you okay?” I asked simply because I was afraid he would ask me first. “What did Oli want?”

“Just checking if we were okay, I guess,” Noah sighed. I internally scoffed at the fact that he had bothered with Noah but not with me, but I pushed the thought away. “Wanting to make sure I still wanted to Antivist tonight.” He paused for a moment. “Do you know when someone is talking and talking but they’re not actually saying anything? Oli is an expert at that, isn’t he. I have no idea what he thinks about last night. I can’t even pinpoint if I asked.”

“Oli can be all smoke and mirrors and leave you more confused than before you talked to him,” I agreed. “How do you feel about last night?”

I didn’t lift my head. I gave both of us the chance to speak as freely as possible without having to look at each other. The same way the darkness gave you the freedom to reveal your secrets at night when you’re a kid, before you came to regret your honesty the next morning.

Noah’s answer began with a big sigh. “I liked kissing him,” he admitted. “I liked kissing you, too. I liked watching him kiss you. But I’m not…” I allowed him as much time as he needed to find his words. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to get involved… with anyone. I can’t give anyone what they need. I’m away and I don’t talk about my feelings and I’m a terrible partner and-”

I couldn’t help myself as I interrupted his speech, sitting upright and taking his face in my hands to force him to look at me. Even self-doubt looked handsome on him.

“You’re talking about your feelings right now, Noah, and you’re doing just fine.”

His head dropped low, now finding my shoulder as I awkwardly hugged him. The scent of his hair was in my nose and I had to actively stop myself from inhaling loudly. He smelled like comfort, I decided. Noah looked back up as I raked my fingers through his hair.

“What do you want to do now?” I asked, carefully.

“I just know I don’t want to stop kissing you.”

It was all I needed, right then and there. I kissed him with all the intensity, all the desperation, all the need inside of me, all the frustration about Oli, all the feelings I had for him but couldn’t or wouldn’t yet name. His mouth was starting to feel familiar against mine, familiar but never boring in the way it moved, the way he tasted. He held me close, pressing our chests together, my breasts heavy between us, his hands all over me in sweet gestures that still had me burning for more.

Both of us were breathless when we separated, but I couldn’t help peppering a few more kisses to his lips, short and soft but saying it all, until it came to a natural end. The smile on his face, directed solely at me, his brown eyes, so enticing, smiling along, was more than enough.

I didn’t want to stop kissing him either.

•••

Oli kept himself much less approachable. He finally read my message but left me without a reply. I managed to run into him several times before his band’s set, but he more or less sent me away every time, claiming not to need anything at all. Just relax and sit down somewhere, he had told me with a dismissive wave of his hand. He was stubborn, but so was I. The last hour before his stage time, I simply followed him around the arena like a lost puppy, just in case he found a use for me. He didn’t. But I felt stupidly pleased that I didn’t let him get away with whatever game he was trying to play.

Still, I was annoyed and felt the rage simmering inside of me. Oli managed to put on a good show, but I felt like his mind wasn’t quite in the right place. Mine wasn’t either. I quickly spoke to Bring Me’s tour manager when I caught him at the side of the stage, purely to let someone know, before going the long way round and finding myself on the arena floor among the fans. I had been a fan myself, long before I’d been working on tours, and that hadn’t changed, no matter how many I went on. I knew that being in a crowd, surrounding by people, screaming the lyrics and moving to the music, would help me clear my head like nothing else could. Besides, it felt about time I got to witness their show from the perspective of the audience, the very people everything from the setlist to the production to the sound design had been specifically made for.

I squeezed myself into the middle of the crowd, made easier by the amount of movement around me, and took a deep breath that was unfortunately filled with the sweat of people who never learned to use deodorant. It made me move a little further, just until the air was slightly more breathable. And then it felt like home.

I wasn’t Aubrey, personal assistant to Oli anymore and he wasn’t Oli, decade-long friend that turned into the most stubborn person on the planet when faced with his vulnerability anymore. I was nothing more than a fan enjoying the music of one of her favourite bands and getting positively lost in the experience. So I went crazy for Diamonds Aren’t Forever and Parasite Eve, kept my eyes on the screens for Antivist just to catch a glimpse of Noah, getting closer to the front of the stage through a number of moshpits, fought hard not to get emotional for Drown.

The fact that Can You Feel My Heart followed didn’t help. The words travelled through my body, taking hold of me, and I was sure I’d never quite felt them the way I did right then and there. And then…

And then Oli didn’t do the speech. His cheesy ass speech he did in the middle of the song, that he constantly joked about backstage but that I knew was so important to him. And he didn’t do it. Could he not bring himself to say the words? Was he too scared to be vulnerable tonight? Could he not bear the thought of baring his soul like that? Had I made it worse?

I hate to get close, and I hate being alone, I long for that feeling to not feel at all…

The world seemed to close in on me. Oli was being a dickhead, yes, but had I pushed him too far? Had I played his stupid game without taking into account that I knew how much he struggled with allowing that type of intimacy? I had been so preoccupied with my own need for him that I didn’t stop to think if I should check up on him instead of teasing him further and further, allowing him to escalate our friendship into something that could be beyond repair. My head was spinning so hard it made me feel dizzy.

I didn’t notice the moshpit opening up around me until someone crashed into my body, sending me flying to the floor. Someone’s hands were on me, possibly multiple, getting me back on my feet, checking on me. I felt something wet on my face but didn’t think to check, people were shouting at each other over the music, coming to an agreement that someone should get up and crowdsurf to the front where they would get help quicker. Me. They were talking about me. Something dripped onto my eyelid and I wiped it away in annoyance as I got lifted up. Blood? The crowd carried me easily. The song was almost over when a security guard caught me and I briefly looked up to see Oli staring down at me, worried. I wasn’t sure why.

Next thing I knew, I was backstage again, a medic shining a light in my eyes which was awfully annoying, Oli and Noah crouching next to me, being asked questions that were easily answered.

“She’s okay, she probably got a slight concussion, but that will be fine by tomorrow. The cut on her eyebrow is minimal and doesn’t need stitches, it just looks bad because it bled, but that’s stopped which means it’s not too deep. Just make sure it’s kept clean and it should heal just fine.”

“You okay?” Oli asked, carefully grazing his fingertips over my cheek. Awfully soft, really. “I need to get back on stage, but Noah will take you to the dressing room and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I’m fine,” I hissed, still high on adrenaline but slowly catching up with what was happening around me. “You don’t need to suddenly care again just because I got injured.”

I could see that my words had hurt him but I didn’t care. Even if my heart pounded heavily. I allowed Noah to help me up and lead me to Oli’s dressing room where he sat me down on the sofa and inspected my wound.

“Do I look sexy all bloody?”

The laugh erupted from his throat out of nowhere. “The medic cleaned you up, but sure, very sexy.”

Silence settled over us as I leaned against his side. The exhaustion of the whole day was washing over me and I was suddenly glad for a little peace and quiet. Neither of us spoke again, simply enjoying the physical contact, until it got louder again from outside the door and we knew the concert had ended.

“Done with your ego trip, then?” I asked as Oli entered the room. He had the decency to look ashamed which I thought was a step forward.

“Never,” he mumbled, but there was no malice in his voice. I raised my eyebrow at him, which shot a dose of pain through my head. My wince softened him immediately. Idiot. “I’m sorry you got hurt. That shouldn’t have happened.”

I genuinely couldn’t tell if he was talking about my mosh pit incident or…

“I guess some people just need to be a little more careful with those around them. Just because they didn’t mean to doesn’t mean other people don’t end up with a headache.”

“You know, some people try very hard, but they’re also very slow learners.”

“I feel like there’s a metaphor here that’s flying right over my head,” Noah interrupted and I couldn’t help but laugh, pressing a short kiss to his temple. Poor Noah, having no idea what he was getting dragged into with Oli and me, but taking it in his stride that neither of us was willing to let him go unless he genuinely asked for it.

I reached my hand out to Oli, deciding to be the bigger person despite knowing that it wasn’t on me to make that first step, but I was impatient and Oli would take forever to be brave enough to come crawling back. “I’m not saying this is over or that we don’t have things to talk about, but as long as you stop pretending to be this cruel and heartless version of you, you’re allowed back into the cuddle pile.”

Oli didn’t take my hand immediately, but looked at Noah, as if checking in with him if he was of the same opinion. I decided to give him credit for it. Noah nodded and in an instant, Oli had draped himself over both our laps, hot to the touch and rather sweaty. The tension between the three of us hadn’t vanished, but it had lessened. Questions remained unanswered and discussions were still to be had but maybe Oli wasn’t the only one reluctant to dive into the deep end.

He mouthed sorry, Aubrey at me and I hated the way my heart melted and my resolve slipped. Then Noah softly stroked his hair and I was sure that some other hearts in this room were melting just the same. I couldn’t help it. I was in love with the mess we were creating.

#Noah Sebastian fic #Noah Sebastian #Oli Sykes fic #Oli Sykes #Noah Sebastian x reader #Oli Sykes x reader #in love with the mess

[leaentries]

Bad day

luke hughes x chubby!reader

a/n- hey y’all! so guess who’s not dead 😋 i’m so so sorry i’ve been so inactive this past month! i’ve been dealing with college starting back up and my new job. but now that i’m back to semi-normal schedule, im hoping to start posting more! so please don’t be afraid to send in any thoughts or requests you may have! also, im so sorry if this is shit, i didn’t really know where i was going when i started writing. i just wanted to get something out for y’all to read😭

p.s- gif is not mine, credits to the owner!!

some days truly never seemed to end.

even though it was only a wednesday, the bleakness of the sky and air ruined every seemingly good thing coming y/n’s way. her day started off great. waking up next to her boyfriend who gave her plenty of good morning sleepy kisses and “i love you’s.” luke even went the extra mile and warmed up her morning shower, paired with a fresh towel straight out of the dryer.

as she stepped into the shower, she felt confident that she was going to have a fantastic day. her classes were easy on wednesday and only lasted till early afternoon. although she knew that luke would be gone for practice by the time she returned home, she was excited to lounge around and be lazy for the day.

only, her day took a turn for the worst.

walking to her first class of the day, the coffee she held in her hand, that luke put so much effort into, somehow managed to slip from her grasp. the cup went tumbling into the pavement, leaving ugly light brown splotches in its wake. frustrated, she picked up the soaked cardboard.

y/n took a deep breath and quickly disposed of the cup, before continuing her journey to class. even though she felt bad for wasting the coffee, she was still set on having a great day. her class went by decently fast, ending when the professor decided to go on a tangent about his recent disk golf tournament.

on wednesdays she only had two classes, her next one being the longest. sitting down for her next lecture, she noticed the thigh portion of her jeans had begun to rip. y/n couldn’t help the feeling of dread that filled her body. those were her favorite jeans and the store in which she bought them, had discontinued this style.

sighing, she placed her head down on her arms. she decided to close her eyes, since she got to class early anyways. what seemed to be a few seconds, quickly turned into her feeling a jab to her side. she lifted her head, eyes squinting due to the bright lights. she looked over to her desk partner. julie looked back with concerned eyes.

“dude, are you okay?”

puzzled, y/n replied, “yeah….why?”

“you just slept through the entire lecture. which, by the way, prof decided to assign some stupid essay on. he said it’s gonna be due friday.”

with wide eyes, y/n stared at the clock on the wall.

i slept through the whole thing?

hitting her like a train, she turned back to julie.

“wait wait wait. an essay? shit, i don’t even know what he talked about today.”

worry gripped her like a vice. how the hell was she ever gonna get an essay done about a lecture she didn’t even listen to? there goes her plan on being lazy for the rest of the day.

“don’t worry, i got you girl. i made sure to take some major notes for you.” julie handed y/n the purple notebook, “just make sure to bring it to class on friday.” with that, julie gathered her things and left the classroom.

still stuck on the fact that she slept through the entire lecture, y/n slowly began to pack up and make her way home. rushing to her car, she made the drive as fast as possible.

not to her surprise, she was greeted with an empty apartment. she would normally be a little sad at this, but she took it with grace. the quiet will give her time to go over julie’s notes and start her essay.

❥.

by the time luke found his way through the door, it was easily past six.

“angel?” luke called into the open apartment. “y/n?” he called again. when he still received no response he walked to their shared bedroom, only to find her hunched over a desk with headphones in her ears.

he walked up to stand behind her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and a kiss to the top of her head. her body jumped slightly, startled at the sudden touch.

“what the fuck, lukey?” she turned to him.

“awww, im sorry baby.” luke responded, chuckling slightly.

though his smile began to fall from his face when he saw the deep line of worry and distress around her eyebrows. luke felt his own furrow.

“what’s wrong, angel?” luke felt his own worry begin to set in. he could have sworn she was in a great mood this morning, recalling when she told him her plans for the day.

frustrated tears began to fill her eyes, “today has just utterly been shit. first, i spilt the coffee you spent so much time making me. then, i fell asleep durning my lecture and missed the entire thing. and to top it all off, my professor decided to assign an essay on said lecture. so now i’m having to bullshit this assignment, which means i’ll probably get a horrible grade.”

by the end of her rant, hot tears found their way from her eyes and down her cheeks. luke’s hands quickly reached to wipe them away.

“don’t cry, pretty girl. it’s okay.” luke said in a hushed voice. he swiveled the chair around, crouching to look up at her down casted face. he placed his hands on her plushy thighs, not failing to appreciate the warmth they radiated under his palms.

“hey, hey. look at me, y/n” at the sound of her name, she tilted her head up slightly, meeting his concerned filled eyes.

“you did nothing wrong. that coffee took me all of about 30 seconds to make and i can help you with your essay. i promise you, you are doing great, baby. you’ll do fine on this essay and it sounds to me like you needed the sleep anyways.” his hand reached to cradle her damp, round cheek.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why i’m upset. it’s not like anything horrible happened. it-it’s just today was supposed to be so good. a-and,” a small sob cut through the air. taking a deep breath she continued, “and i’ve been doing this essay for the past 4 hours. i feel like i’m getting no where.”

luke’s heart hurt at the sight of his girlfriend so drained. it was a complete 180 from the cheerful attitude she had that morning. he slowly stood up, reaching over to close her laptop. she opened her mouth in protest, but was quickly cut off. “before you try and stop me, you need a break, sweetheart. you’ve made plenty of progress on your essay for today. come lay down with me. we can call in some take out and watch a movie.”

luke’s eyes gazed pleadingly into her own.

“but what if i can’t get it finished by tomorrow? it’s due at the beginning of class friday.” luke was fast to ease her worry, “i promise i will help you finish it tomorrow. i don’t have practice, so we can spend the whole day making this essay a+ material. now, go change and meet me in the living room.”

with a smile and another kiss to her head, luke walked out of the bedroom. attempting to brush off the last thoughts of her essay, y/n got up and walked to the closet. she grabbed a pair of sweats and one of luke’s big sweatshirts. putting it on reminded her of how thoughtful he is, always making sure to get them a size bigger so they’ll be extra oversized.

she smiled as the scent of his cologne filled her nose.

now completely changed, she walked out, only to be met with what seemed to be every blanket in the house set up on the couch. next to it laid plenty of her favorite snacks, along with her favorite drinks. with wide eyes, she turned to meet luke’s nervous form.

“w-what’s all this?” she gestured toward the couch. luke walked up to her, placing his hands on her full hips.

“i just wanted to do something for you, make your day a bit better. do you like it?” luke’s eyes were hopeful.

“of course, i love it.” she looked up at luke’s face, “thank you. for everything.” luke flashed his beaming grin.

“anything for you, angel,” he whispered. luke leaned down to press his lips into her soft ones. his hands pulled her hips to meet his, deepening the kiss. y/n found her own hands finding home in the curls on the nape of his neck. she gripped his hair, slightly pulling at the intensity. luke’s light groans filled the apartment.

forcing themselves apart, y/n placed her hands on luke’s shoulders as he tried to chase her lips. a whine escaped his throat, “whyyy? i want to kiss you.” a laugh bubbled out of her mouth, bringing a smile to luke’s face.

“as much as i would love to keep kissing you, i want to go lay down. and that movie isn’t going to watch itself.” with this, luke took liberty of going to lay across the couch first, opening his arms to welcome y/n into them. she didn’t hesitate to find comfort in his arms, laying her head on his chest.

luke grabbed one of the many blankets, covering them both. he placed his chin on the top of her head, grabbing the remote lying next to him.

“alright angel, what do you want to watch?”

#luke hughes x chubby!reader #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes #luke hughes headcanons #nhl x reader #umich hockey x chubby!reader #umich hockey x reader #luke hughes oneshot #luke hughes imagine #leawrites🍀

[buckybarnesb-tch]

Mikaelson’s Party Pt.1

Warning: This is a Human A/B/O fic you are about to read, it contains Omegaverse Dynamics as well as mentions of Non-Con and abuse.

Read at your own risk

Their parents had gone on vacation for their 25th wedding anniversary and that weekend as Mikael had wanted to take his wife on a couples retreat for older Beta couples, It was the perfect time for Elijah to decide to throw a party. He’s a Sophomore in college and the campus was only 15 minutes from his house giving him the perfect place to have people over, nearly his whole class as well as Freshmen coming, his Beta Katherine having talked him into it as Elijah wasn’t a rule breaker but he would do anything for his mate. The house was packed, drunk college students everywhere and despite his attempts, he couldn’t get his siblings to stay upstairs. Rebekah was making friends with popular Beta girls, Kol was completely stoned with some burn outs in the backyard and Klaus was enjoying his night, watching drunken idiots do stupid shit. Thanks to Klaus’ Alpha status, something he was alone with in his family full of Betas (Betas taking up something like 80% of the population, Alphas at 19 and Omegas at less than 1), most of the kids left him alone or just gave him the odd stare. Alphas weren’t as common as they used to be but there were still plenty of them, though most of them tended to flock together, Klaus however was just happier alone. As an 18 year old Alpha that hadn’t yet found his mate he was always the odd one out, at school and at home, being alone was just more comfortable…even if he secretly hoped he would have a mate that wanted to be around him all the time. Often he even indulged himself in dreaming of finding an Omega mate to spend his life with, though he had been teased about that at a young age, his own family having a good laugh about the impossible idea.

Elijah had joined some of his friends in an intense game of beer pong without a care in the world, having already hired a cleaning crew to come the next morning and make sure everything was back in place. If nothing else, Elijah always thought ahead.

Klaus’ night took a turn somewhere around midnight as he refilled his drink at the make-shift bar, seeing some football players in the corner, laughing at something. It wasn’t until he heard a girl screaming at them that he moved closer, seeing a beautiful girl trying to shove their hands off of her body as they pulled at her shirt, clearly all drunk beyond belief. His body froze before he could step in, her sweet scent washing over him though it was mixed with something bland that he couldn’t place, the scent rushed through every nerve ending in his body sending a buzzing vibration through his extremities, up to his brain and almost violently into his cock. It was as he felt the growl build in his chest and explode out quite loudly that his body listened and moved again, the entire room freezing and looking at him now.

‘That’s enough!’ He snarled, moving between two of them and grabbing the girls hand, pulling her towards him. The largest one grabbed her arm tightly, holding her back from moving away.

‘Who the fuck are you? Get lost kid-‘

‘What the Fuck did you just say to me?!’ He growled, his chest now releasing a constant threatening noise as he glared at this moron Beta who would Dare challenge an Alpha, younger than him or not. ‘I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you’re just drunk as fuck here, first of all I’m not a kid! I’m 18, I’m Elijah’s brother, this is my house, and despite being drunk myself I still know better that to be molesting a girl at a party while she screams “no” at me. Shove it up your ass and let her go. Now! Or you’ll be wishing you weren’t so God damn stupid when you wake up in the ER next week!’ No one moved for a moment and Klaus could see the girl wincing as his grip got tighter before he rolled his eyes and let go.

‘Whatever man, the ugly bitch is a fucking prude anyway. She’s all yours.’ With that, they were gone and Klaus held the girls hand, pulling her after him gently and getting a cold pack from the freezer before guiding her down the stairs to his room, unlocking the door that he had ensured no one could get into.

‘Come on in, no one will bother you down here. It’s also relatively sound proof, so at least that God awful music stops.’ He joked as he tried to calm her as he could smell her fear, sitting beside her on the couch and wrapping the ice pack around her arm.

‘Thank God, I thought there was no escaping it.’ She giggled, still stiff and uncomfortable but the sound made him smile. ‘Thank you for helping me, they’re these frat jerks who have been fucking with me since the start of term…never thought they would do something like that though.’ Klaus could tell she had been drinking but she also wasn’t so drunk she wasn’t thinking straight which was a comfort for him at the moment, seeing how she held his hand so tightly that she felt something between them too.

‘Why are they bothering you?’ He wondered and she sighed, leaning back into the couch.

‘I have classes with them and I’m quiet, honestly I think it started as a dare to go out with the shy girl who never talked to anyone. When I ignored all of them, they got more…pushy…they started following me around and teasing me. I guess they thought since it wasn’t on campus they could do what they wanted, and assholes mixed with alcohol is a terrible combo. Eventually they’ll get bored and find some other poor Beta to bother but until then, I ignore them.’ Klaus couldn’t explain why this upset him so much. He felt a rage bubbling up in him that was wild and angry, he hated men that tried to force themselves on women of course, he found it disgusting but his anger was white hot and he wanted to go kill those assholes who thought they could harm this girl…his girl…his Omega.

The thought rushed through his head at 100 miles an hour but as he took in her scent again he knew. He had never smelled an Omega before, never being close enough to one not on suppressants, but he knew. ‘I’ll kill them. I will slaughter them for touching you Omega.’ He pressed his lips to the back of her hand, not moving any closer as he wanted to give her space, not knowing how she was feeling right now as she was clearly tipsy and from the bland smell trying to cover her scent, she was on suppressants too. Klaus only smelled through them because she was his mate, and an Omega cannot hide their full scent from their true Alpha.

‘Please don’t hurt me?’ She whispered, clearly nervous but unable to hide her interest in his scent as she leaned almost subconsciously closer to his neck.

‘Hurt you? Never…you’re my Omega. I…I want to be a good Alpha for you, I’ve been looking for…I’ve been hoping for…fuck!’ He didn’t know how to say what he wanted to, not knowing what would upset her and what wouldn’t.

A moment later, after wracking his brain for something to say to relax her he felt the couch move as she pushed herself closer to him and held onto his arm with both of her hands. ‘What have you been hoping for?’ She looked at him so sweetly and while he could still feel her discomfort, she wasn’t as scared as she had been and he relaxed himself a bit.

‘I’ve been hoping to find my mate…Beta, Alpha, Omega, it didn’t matter to me, I just wanted someone to…love? I-I feel like I’ve always been alone, my family doesn’t understand me, they think I’m just some stupid Alpha who’s never going to amount to anything, and I always wanted you…someone with that perfect scent who would be the best person for me. I was really starting to think-‘

‘-you didn’t exist…me too.’ She admitted, shyly looking up at him and Klaus tucked her hair behind her ear with his free arm that she wasn’t holding. ‘My family always made me feel useless. My two brothers are Alphas and my dad was so proud…then he gets an Omega daughter that he has to hide, has to pay money for medication to make sure I’m safe and…honestly I don’t think he really cares what happens to me, none of them do.’ Klaus could feel her pain and he wondered for a brief second if she could feel his, answering his own question as he knew she could, holding her hands in his own and staring straight into her eyes. ‘I hoped I would find an Alpha who wanted me as badly as I wanted them…’

‘I do…I really do. I-‘ he cut himself off, taking a breath before leaning in and giving her several seconds to pull away if she wanted to, pressing his lips to her soft ones and feeling as if fireworks were exploding in his body. Not just his stomach but his brain, his arms and legs, everything felt on fire in the most wonderful way possible and he loved it. Suddenly she moved, pushing him back against the couch and climbing into his lap, allowing him to hold her to him tightly, their lips molding together passionately. Her fingers pulled at his blond locks and his hands squeezed her waist before she suddenly ground her body down against his, his cock already painfully hard and needy. ‘Wait!’ He gasped and she pulled back, fear in her eyes but he just smiled. ‘I’m Klaus by the way.’ He introduced, finding hilarity in the fact that names hadn’t been important when they already felt they knew everything about each other.

‘Y/n, nice to meet you Alpha.’ She giggled and he groaned.

‘You’re killing me Omega.’ He tugged her back into their harsh kiss before hoisting her up and moving them to his bed and crawling over her, lips traveling down to her neck while she pulled his shirt over his head and just as she moved to grab hers he caught her hands.

‘What’s wrong?’ She asked, worriedly.

‘You’ve been drinking…we both have, I…I can’t do this while you’re drunk.’ She looked at him, stunned and in clear disbelief. ‘Stay…I’ll lend you some clothes and if you still want to tomorrow then I’ll mark you for everyone to see…I don’t want to hurt you Y/n.’

She paused for a second before nodding her head. ‘I understand…I would rather we both remember it too.’ She joked, kissing him again and moving to sit up. Klaus grabbed her a clean shirt and some boxers for her to wear, turning around as she changed before feeling her arms around his naked torso. ‘You’re really sweet, you know that, right?’ He shrugged, brushing it off but she stopped him as he sat on the bed, her standing between his legs and making him tilt his head to look up at her. ‘I mean it Klaus. Anyone else would have happily fucked me without a second thought…I always worried that’s what would happen to me anyway-‘

‘I will never let anyone else touch you! You’re safe Omega-‘

‘I know. I feel safe with you…you’re a good person Alpha. Fuck whatever your family has to say to you, you’re perfect and they need to get over themselves.’ She straddled his lap and kissed him again, hugging him tightly and snuggling into him as he pulled the blankets over the both of them and flicked off the lights, nuzzling his nose into his Omegas neck and happily allowing himself to drift off to sleep with her in his arms.

Waking up the next morning was comforting for the both of them, Y/n had buried her face into Klaus’ neck and he had his arms wrapped around her body firmly. As he woke he brushed her hair from her face and she blushed, yawning deeply before squeaking and jumping up. ‘Gotta pee!’ She exclaimed and he chuckled, checking the time and seeing that it was only 7am. Y/n fell back into the bed and snuggled back into his body, pulling the blankets around her snuggly and Klaus could instantly see her urge to nest as she was finally so close to her Alpha and not overwhelmed by the effects of alcohol.

‘Hold on.’ He told her, hopping up and opening his closet door to reveal several large blankets and a few pillows that he tossed onto the bed for her as well as a huge comforter. She instantly began fixing his bed just the way she wanted it and he was fascinated, never having seen a real nest before. Some Betas do it and they’re taught about it in school but every nest builder is different and seeing another couples nest is considered very rude. It’s personal. The idea of that was nice to Klaus, knowing no one else would ever see their nest was a wonderful thought. ‘This is wonderful Omega, it looks incredibly comfortable.’ She grinned, nodding her head.

‘Snuggle Alpha.’ She grabbed his hand and pulled him into the intricately molded nest and it truly was incredibly comfortable. Klaus held her body to his chest tightly, his instincts to keep her close to him-especially until she is marked-feeling overwhelming. ‘Can we just stay here forever?’ She asked suddenly and he smiled.

‘I think I would much prefer having our own place where my brothers and sister can’t walk down here and pound on my door whenever they want…would-I mean, would you want to live with me?’ Y/n raised her eyebrows and he could feel her asking him if he was stupid. ‘Right, well my father left me everything when he died a few years ago. There’s a house about 20 miles away that…I mean if you wanted to-‘ She took his face into her hands and kissed him hard, excitement swirling through their as of yet incomplete bond and if this is how strong it is already he can’t imagine what he will feel from and for her once it is and Klaus has never been more happy. ‘I’m going to take care of you Omega, everything you’ve ever wanted, you’re gonna have it!’ He grinned, leaning close and kissing her neck right over her scent gland which cause a sound to trill from her throat that Klaus had only ever heard of…his mate was purring. ‘That’s the loveliest sound I’ve ever heard Princess.’

‘Really? My family always thought it was annoying.’ She tried to play it off but he could see that it really bothered her.

‘I love it Omega, I want to hear it forever. You’re mine now, not theirs, whatever you want is yours.’ Klaus held his mate close and snuggled into the nest with her, drifting back to sleep fairly quickly, the both of them completely content for the first time in their lives.

There will be a part 2 of them moving in together and a smutty HEA🥰🥰

Part 2

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

#vampire #hybrid #tvd klaus #the vampire diaries #the originals #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus imagine #klaus imagine #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #klaus fluff #klaus x oc #klaus fic #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson fluff #klaus mikaelson smut #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson one shot #human!Klaus Mikaelson #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o universe #alpha omega #alpha!Klaus #omega!oc #alternate universe

[t-lostinworlds]

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

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

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

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

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

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

✘ MOODBOARD

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

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning, Peter."

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

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

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

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were incredible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Pete."

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

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

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

"After you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

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

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

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

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And the card?" Peter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need help?"

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

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

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

"Wow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's."

•••

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

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

"I'm not—"

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

Right. Fake identities.

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

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

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

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

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

It's pretend. Get a grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

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

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

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

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

Not too far off from reality.

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

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

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

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

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

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

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

You smiled. "Of course."

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

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

Peter's heart quickened.

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

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

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

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

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

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

"My, aren't you two cute."

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

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

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

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

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

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

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

Peter shook his head, chuckling before turning to you. "So, what now?"

"Scope," you said, waving back at a random woman who was making their way over to you both. You turned to him with a smile. "And mingle."

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

He was already a terrible liar when under pressure, stuttering and blubbering until he would end up telling the truth. And that was around people he got along with.

Now how was he supposed to make small talk with the rich all while pretending to be rich himself when he clearly was not?

His best course of action? He didn't talk.

It fit well with the persona he'd created, anyway.

He was mostly following your advice—well, more like literally following you around. He was like your trophy fiancé in some way, and honestly, Peter wasn't opposed to it.

You were taking charge, and all he had to do was scope the scene, nod and smile whenever he was acknowledged while mostly speaking only to you.

From an outsider's point of view, he probably looked like such a puppy for his girl, only meeting your eyes, hovering by your side, his attention and touch always on you. A hand on the small of your back, an arm around your waist as he hung onto every word that slipped past your beautiful red-painted lips. For them, he was simply a man completely enamored by his soon-to-be wife. So it definitely sold this whole fiancé gimmick you two got going on.

Then again, it wasn't like he had to pretend that much, either. It wasn't hard to act all smitten with you because he already was. And, okay, he was playing it up a little. Peter would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy acting like you were his and he was yours, even if it was only for a mission.

Other than that, he also quite enjoyed indulging in the food and beverages that were paraded around by the waiters. It tasted so good, so obviously made with high-quality and expensive ingredients, but most importantly free. Could you blame him for taking advantage of it?

He was being an opportunist, he was well aware, which was why he didn't think much about downing the very tasty champagnes they offered, especially when he was free from any consequence that the drink brought—well, one of the consequences.

Because as much as he was immune to the buzz of the alcohol, he couldn't say the same for the effects it brought on his bladder.

It didn't really expand when his abilities got enhanced.

With how utterly gorgeous you looked tonight, it shouldn't have surprised him that the second he left your side, some men in this gala would take his absence as an opportunity to make a move.

He might've been acting like a guard dog, he admits, glaring at anyone who dared to glance at you wrongly. You were "his fiancée" after all, he was simply playing the part of your possessive protective husband-to-be.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

But still, when he came back after his little bathroom break, Peter wasn't too keen on what he saw.

You were talking to some dark-haired man wearing a bold, fully gold-colored suit and an even bolder beard. He didn't look old, but he didn't exactly look young, either. Or perhaps his facial hair played a part in that regard. He was—as much as he hated to say it—well-built and good-looking. If Peter was to guess, he was probably in his early 30s.

The interaction looked innocent enough, and Peter wouldn't have found it a big deal if this guy wasn't eyeing you up like you were a piece of meat.

"Amelia Devonché," the man greeted, his French accent thick, his flirtatious tone, even thicker.

So that's your fake name.

"The one and only," you said, smiling as you tilted your head. "Although I don't think we've been introduced."

"Halbert Auclair," he said, bowing as he held out an open palm.

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

"Pleasure to meet you," you hummed, slipping your hand into his.

"Pleasure's all mine. You look quite lovely tonight, mademoiselle," he crooned, bringing the back of your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

Peter's jaw clenched, an intensely heated emotion boiling his blood, only relaxing slightly when he heard your fake giggle.

He'd heard your real one enough to differentiate the two.

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

Clouded by his emotions, Peter took long strides towards you, swiftly wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and pulling you to his side, kissing your temple and then, without thought, near the corner of your mouth.

Your eyes snapped to meet his, a fleeting look of surprise on your features before you quickly masked it with a smile. "This is my fiancé—"

"Lucas Reid, one of the youngest yet richest CEOs here today," Halbert interjected, offering his hand out to shake.

"Hmm," Peter said with a curt nod, his grip a little tighter when he shook it.

"Man with few words, I see," Halbert chuckled dryly, flexing his fingers once they were free from his hold.

Peter bit his cheek to stop a smirk, pushing his glasses up before slipping his hand into his pocket, looking at you with a much more relaxed smile.

"My fiancé isn't great with crowds. Always stuck in his office, he is. The only thing in his mind is the business, and well, me," you gushed, resting your left hand on his chest, tilting your head to flash him a smile. "Am I right, handsome?"

"Very much so, darling," Peter said, unaware of how his voice sounded. He was still running on jealousy that he couldn't help but gently take your hand from his chest, bringing the back of it to his lips and then kissing the diamond ring on your finger. He smiled at you sweetly as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. "You still owe me a dance, my love."

You blinked a few times, lips parting before you shook your head with a soft laugh, "Oh, yes! How can I forget."

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

Peter didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence as he gently ushered you towards the dance floor, just in time for the string quartet to play their version of Quando, Quando, Quando.

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

His boiling jealousy was quickly replaced with nervousness and dread as you guided his hands, one on your waist, the other curled around yours.

You were so blatantly staring at him that his nerves could only grow tenfold. It was only a matter of time before you realized just how jealous he acted. Hell, he only just realized it after the emotion had left his system. And despite avoiding your eyes, he could still sense it, how you were trying to figure out why he'd done what he just did.

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

"Are you okay?" you countered, placing your hand on his shoulder before moving to the music.

He didn't know if he should be thankful or slightly embarrassed that you were the one leading the dance. But then again, there probably would never be a time when Peter wouldn't follow your lead—dancing or otherwise.

He'd follow you to the ends of the earth if he could.

It was working, though, bodies synchronously swaying to the sound of strings as if you'd done this plenty of times before. It was either a testament to how good you were at basically everything—a quick learner, a leader, a teacher and hell, a dancer—or just how well you two complemented each other.

Peter believed it was both.

"Yeah," Peter chuckled timidly, eyes trained on the ground to avoid your eyes and to make sure he wouldn't step on your foot. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just seemed…" you paused, hand squeezing his shoulder lightly. "Angry."

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

"I'm not," he brushed off, shaking his head. "Got nothing to be angry about."

"Right," you hummed, and it sounded like you didn't believe him at all.

"Did I mess up?" Peter sighed, worried eyes finally meeting your curious ones.

"What? No. You just came off as quiet which isn't a big deal," you reassured, smile widening with amusement. "Where did that South London accent come from, though?"

"Wait." Peter blinked, frowning. "I did an accent?"

"Yeah, you did," you laughed. "Which I didn’t even know you could do."

"I guess I was too nervous to even realize," he admitted, chuckling. "I've been binge-watching The Great British Bake Off lately, maybe I just picked it up."

"So nervousness makes you do accents," you hummed, smiling. "Interesting."

"What?" He narrowed his eyes at you teasingly. "Don't tell me you like a British accent too, like, half the world apparently."

"It's cute," you admitted with a shrug. "But I like your accent more."

Peter blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah, I like the kid from Queens," you said nonchalantly.

Peter almost stepped on your foot. If you weren't a trained spy with quite good reflexes, you might've gone home with a bruised toe.

You shook your head, giggling as you pulled him back to the rhythm of the dance. "You're going to have to keep the charade if you speak to other people, now, though"

"Yeah, didn't really think about that." Peter scrunched up his face, clearing his throat before he looked at you shyly. "I really don't dance."

"Well, you're doing great so far," you hummed, pulling him closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Peter secured his on your waist then, both of you gliding across the dance floor to the symphony of the strings as you held each other's gaze. It was impressive, really, that this was the first time you both danced together, but danced like two spiders spinning their silks in a synchronized choreography to create a large heart-shaped web.

Then, he felt bold, confident.

He didn't know if it was from that same pull from earlier tonight, his senses being muddled by your overpowering presence, your warm body pressed so close against him, or the sweet lure of the music that added something to the air.

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

But Peter couldn't help but lean even closer, the tips of your noses just a hair's breadth away.

"You are so beautiful," he whispered, his gaze fluttering across your face before meeting your eyes.

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

You shook your head with a giggle, eyes twinkling, "And you said you aren't smooth."

"Like I said," he started, lowering his voice, shrugging with a teasing grin, "It's the expensive suit."

Peter's heart warmed at your sweet laugh, that certain pull growing stronger at the lovely sound. He dipped his head, noses touching before he pressed his forehead against yours. He squeezed your waist when your breath hitched, warm and inviting as it tickled his lips, tempting, oh so close—

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

"Sam! You've ruined it!" Peter heard Wanda hiss through the earpiece.

"He was finally getting somewhere!" And that was Harley.

Peter's whole face grew hot with embarrassment, squeezing your waist, still keeping you close as he looked away.

He completely forgot about the comms being live and open to everyone back at the compound.

Then again, all of them had been suspiciously quiet until now. 

"Well, damn, I'm sorry? But this is an important mission, not a radio drama?"

"You just had to cockblock—"

"I'm surprised you even know what that means, you white fossil—"

You cleared your throat, smiling at Peter shyly. "Any intel?"

"I think that French dude is our bad guy," he answered swiftly, ready to change the subject or else his knees might go out.

"Auclair?" You raised a brow at him with a smirk. "How so?"

Peter might sound like he had a vendetta against the guy who shamelessly flirted with you. But, he did have a few points to back his claim.

"It's kinda weird how quickly he knew about us. Unless he stole the guest list and researched every single one of the names or he's the host. Also, he really made a point in stating how rich I am. You only do that when you want money for the auction. And if that's not proof enough—" Peter pulled a black and silver playing card out of his pocket, the same one Halbert gave to him during the handshake. "Seven of hearts, well, kinda. It's more arrows than it is hearts. All of them are pointing downward no matter which way you turn it. Look—" He turned the card, an almost holographic effect as the arrows remained south. "That's not how normal playing cards are. So I assume it means downstairs to the secret auction. And we've got about an hour max until it's seven. And if that's not obvious enough—" Peter showed you the back, tilting it to the light to expose the words 'Big Toys, Bigger Guns' in the middle in gold lettering.

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

"That's a really good catch, wow," you praised, grinning proudly. "Someone's getting the hang of this already, huh?"

"Watching those James Bond movies finally paid off, I guess," he chuckled, nodding at you. "Plus, I got a good teacher."

You smiled. "Keep a careful eye on him," you instructed, snorting a little when he all but glared when he found the man. You squeezed his slightly tensed shoulders. "Subtlety."

"I don't think I need to be subtle because he keeps eyeing you like he stands a chance as if the rock on your finger isn't big enough. You're my fiancée. So me glaring at some guy with too much beard who looks at you far too long for comfort let alone appropriate isn't out of the ordinary," he grumbled, shaking his head. "Men are pigs I tell you."

"Someone's committed to the bit," you teased, smiling far too bright for it to be innocent. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

Peter quickly snatched a champagne flute from the tray when a waiter walked past, handing it to you with a small curtsy.

"You look parched, my darling."

You rolled your eyes but took the glass anyway, your grin telling him that maybe you like the accent more than you were letting on.

But she likes your accent more.

Peter couldn't stop his heart from melting at the thought.

He was also glad that his distraction worked, his jealousy hopefully forgotten as he guided you toward the bar once the song finished.

"Door's unguarded," you murmured against the glass, sipping gingerly before you handed it back to him. "Stay here and keep an eye out. I'll find us a key."

Peter nodded, sitting on one of the stools as he carefully and deliberately followed your movement. Not that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, but an extra pair of eyes will always be better than none. Also, he was being observant of his surroundings, his enhanced senses helping in making sure there wasn't anything suspicious going on, keeping him on high alert in case he needed to jump in.

He watched with pride as you slyly stole a keycard from a gullible enough guard who was too distracted by your flirting. It was an impressively swift sleight of hand that if he wasn't paying attention enough, he would've missed it.

Still, Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes at how stupid and easy these guards tend to be, any focus and rational thought out the window all because of an alluring smirk, a teasing touch and a glimpse of skin—the simplest seduction from one gorgeous woman.

But then again, he wasn't exactly one to talk. Because as innocent as a bright smile from you, Peter would literally do anything you ask him to.

He was far too focused on you that he didn't even realize that someone had replaced your seat, not until he heard his name—well, the fake one.

"Lucas Reid."

Peter turned, eyes landing on a woman wearing a gold dress, curled, long hair framing a somewhat familiar face. Peter wasn't blind, he could see she was objectively pretty. But she simply could never hold a candle next to his gorgeous fiancée—fake or otherwise.

"Greta Auclair," she said with a smile, holding out her hand.

Peter didn't miss the flirtatious undertone in her actions. How could he when she was so adamant on fluttering her eyelashes at him, or the way she wasn't subtle at pushing up her chest, the low-cut top doing so little to hide…it? Them?

Not that he was looking. It was simply in his line of sight.

"Auclair," he hummed, shaking her hand briefly as he tried to make sure his accent didn't sound so forced. He honestly didn't know why he decided to make things harder for himself. "Any relation to Halbert?"

"Twin sister," she waved off, flipping her hair to one side.

Peter nodded without another word, attention swiftly shifting to search for you in the crowd.

"I must say, I've heard a lot of things about you," she hummed as she leaned forward, fingers curling around his bicep, gold-colored, manicured nails glinting underneath the light as she squeezed the muscle. "Apart from being a quiet man, of course."

Peter's resolve faltered a little, the gesture completely catching him off guard.

What's up with this family and overstepping personal space?

"Good things, I hope." He smiled tightly, crossing his arms over his chest, subtly shaking her hand off.

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry. 

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated. 

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you. 

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them. 

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet. 

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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#isns #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x female reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker one shot #peter parker reader insert #spider-man fanfiction #spider-man x reader #spider-man one shot #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #tom holland #my writing

[mentaly-british-biologist]

How TF2 mercs enjoy pool days:

Ok, so this may be based on my own beliefs on what they would do during a pool day, but screw it. I want you to think of a scenario. All the mercenaries finally decide to go on a summer break to a nice hot area [Orlando, Cancun, whatever you like.] however, they didn't exactly read the website correctly, and instead of getting into a resort with a public pool, they end up getting a personal pool with their resort house. This will include Ms. Pauling because yes.

Scout:

-Immediately jumps into the pool, clothes and all.

-Says he played an 'Epic prank' on Medic by putting Ms Pauling's bikinis in his bag instead of his swimming trunks.

-Hits everyone with pool noodles for hours, apart from Spy. He can never find Spy.

-Planned a sick joke with Sniper to push Medic into the pool. [More on that later]

Soldier:

-Has to be stopped from covering himself in honey before jumping into the pool. [For the sake of that poor water filter]

-Also hits multiple people with a pool noodle and ends up sword fighting with Scout.

-Tries to take bites out of the pool noodles, as well as all the other foam items he can get his hands on.

-Refuses to take off helmet despite being halfway underwater.

Engineer:

-Stays on the sides, will occasionally jump in as long as his mechanical arm is wrapped up tight. [Water damage, yknow?]

-Adores how Pyro has so many different toys to play with by the pool, often watches over them as they play with them.

-Only one who takes photos

-Made a little beach themed watercooler near the hot tub to fill with alcohol and drinks.

Demoman:

-Ends up making personal drinks for everyone, a bartender at the hot tub.

-Absolutely destroys his skin by not wearing sunscreen, ends up walking away fried.

-Somehow sets fire to the water in the pool.

-Falls asleep in the pool at multiple points in time, sometimes face down. [Soldier flips him over, can't let him drown]

Heavy:

-Basically the lifeguard in all this chaos, wondering how the pool is simultaneously on fire and freezing. [It's Demoman and Sniper's fault]

-When he jumps in, it becomes a goddamn wave pool, and I'm talking about the ones that could drown people.

-He normally hangs out in the hot tub beside the pool, not normally going in unless it's important.

-Wants to chat to Medic, but he can never find him near the pool. Talks to Spy instead.

Sniper:

-Hangs around the deep end of the pool, hanging off the edges like spooder man.

-Never knows where Medic is during the morning and afternoons, so he decided to help Scout with a prank so he could figure out what's going on with him.

-Normally has a soft drink during the slow pool hours when everybody is relaxed.

-Threw ice into the pool when it lighted up. It did nothing.

-Like Soldier, still wears his hat despite being up to his neck in water.

Pyro:

-Refuses to even touch the water. The only time they jumped in is when the water was set alight. Loved every second of it.

-Has many water-safe unicorn toys and rubber ducks by the side of the pool to play with instead of actually going in the water.

-Keeps the mask on. Cmon, what did you expect?

-Can and will sit in the sun for the entire day if possible.

Spy:

-Stays cloaked whenever Scout comes around the pool with his pool noodle.

-When he does decide to get in the pool, the ashes of his cigarettes get in the water. Yuck.

-Wears only the finest of wool woven swimwear shorts. [That's a lie. They're silk too.]

-Found Medic one night. Drowning. Was a bit confused, but pulled him out anyway.

Medic:

-Physically does not know how to swim. Packed Ms. Pauling's bikinis instead of his own swim gear, so he didn't have to. Scout found out and pretended that it was his doing.

-Doesn't like the loud noises of the day, so usually comes out in the evening, dangling his legs into the water of the deep end.

-Comes out in full uniform like a weirdo. I'm talking about the lab coat, the white cardigan, the white shirt, the red rubber gloves, the baggy rouge/brown trousers, the black boots, all of it.

-Got pushed into the deep end by both Scout and Sniper. Started drowning, and eventually Spy found him and pulled him out.

Ms. Pauling:

-Sits by the side of the pool, usually with a martini or a cold drink.

-Got confused when she found her swimming costume inside Medic's suitcase.

-Usually dives into the pool with grace... with her glasses still on. Refuses to also take them off, due to the fact that she won't be able to see without them. [Excuses, excuses.]

-Will normally get a call from the Administrator. Everyone goes silent when this happens, due to the fact that they're supposed to be working.

Yeah, I think that turned out pretty well, but these are just headcannons. Agree if you want, but you don't have to.

:]

#tf2 medic #team fortress two #tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 headcanons #tf2 scout #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 ms pauling #tf2 demoman

[differenteagletragedy]

This one is for my fellow angst lovers -- please only continue if you like to hurt your own feelings. cw: death

It took a remarkable amount of effort for Baxter to let himself be happy. It was a scary thing for him, to let himself hope that things could be better. That life could be easier, and that he didn't have to live with the weight on his chest that had stuck with him for as long as he could remember.

That morning kicked off the worst day of his entire life, but the night before ... he was happy. Blissfully, intoxicatingly, stupidly happy.

"Baxter," you'd called out from your spot in his bed. "Quit moisturizing and come to bed, I'm lonely!"

He let out an easy laugh, slipping off his headband and placing it on the bathroom counter. You didn't live with him, not yet, but you'd stayed with him often enough to be able to mock him for his skincare routine. As he walked into the bedroom, he found himself running a hand down his pajama top -- a nervous gesture that didn't make much sense, since he knew good and well that it would end up on the floor anyway.

Baxter spent most of that night in your arms. Some of it moving against you, inside you, pressing your body to the bed as he kissed along your shoulder, some of it lying lazily at your side, whispering "I love yous" and sharing more kisses. You fell asleep before him, and although his eyes were getting heavy, he pushed himself to stay awake just a little longer, reveling in the feeling of you next to him.

That morning, he woke up still wrapped in you. One of his legs was over yours, and his arms clutched you close. In his typically dazed waking state, he noted that you were there, and that made him smile. It took him a few minutes to realize that you were colder than you should have been.

Trying to get his wits about him, he went to grab the blanket to wrap it around you, and that's when he noticed that something was truly wrong. Your body, normally so soft, felt stiff in a way that made his heart drop. He focused his eyes on you, suddenly wide awake, and saw your stillness. Your lifelessness.

He scrambled up quickly, pulling himself up so that he was sitting beside you. His breaths started coming in short, shallow gasps, and he could feel his heart pounding, his head swimming.

He'd lost count of how many times over the past several months that he'd watched you while you slept next to him, memorizing the gentle rise and fall of your chest. It wasn't moving now.

There was a logical part of him that understood what this meant, and that part of him reached over to his bedside table, grabbed his phone and called 911. That part of him pulled clothes on, let the paramedics in when they arrived, and made his legs move to the bathroom so he could vomit in the toilet as they tried and failed to resuscitate you. It quickly formed some kind of autopilot for this situation -- a way for him to remain upright and sane as the life he'd wished for so desperately came falling apart around him.

A whirlwind of things happened. More people came into his apartment, into his bedroom. He talked to them without really comprehending anything they said, and eventually, some of them loaded you onto a stretcher and took you away from him for the last time.

Then he was left alone. Again.

It might have looked cold from the outside, how he spent the rest of the day moving around his home, taking all the things that were yours and placing them in bags. He was silent, his eyes were dry, and he moved almost robotically. The clothes you'd tucked away in his closet, your hairbrush, a book you'd left on the coffee table -- all of it was packed away neatly, and by sundown, things looked just like they had before you'd come back into his life.

You were one of the only people on earth that would have known that all of his efforts weren't cold, but simply a survival tactic. You would have understood that if he'd have left everything alone, he would have suffocated, and that overnight those items had become almost sacred, too delicate not to be packed away and carefully preserved.

But you were dead. So it didn't really matter, did it?

Baxter was fine with seeming heartless in how he dealt with the loss of you, because he knew he'd never let anyone close enough to care if they saw him differently ever again. He could be the cold unfeeling bastard who moved on immediately after the love of his life died in his arms. It didn't matter to him.

No one would ever see any evidence to the contrary. They wouldn't see how long he kept making dinner for two, or the shirt of yours that he slept with every night. They wouldn't see how often he sat on the floor of his balcony, back against the glass and knees hugged tight to his chest, gazing out at the horizon and trying to will himself to believe in something, some kind of afterlife or reincarnation, anything that would make it feel like you weren't gone for good.

It didn't work -- it never worked. Hope never came, and all he was left with was a gaping, aching emptiness were you used to be.

#our life beginnings and always #baxter ward #our life baxter #baxter x reader #baxter x mc #baxter x you #baxter ward x you #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x mc #our life angst

[darling-archeron]

Many months have passed since the end of the War, but not all wounds have healed. Repairs, both emotional and physical, are still underway. When Feyre finally finds a break in her schedule, she feels duty-bound to visit the one place she thought she’d never return to: her old village. With Rhys by her side, she takes a trip through old memories. ✨ Rated T, 2.8k words | Part 3/4 | Masterlist @charliespringsleftconverse @acotargiftexchange

🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨🌙✨

Feyre shoved the memory of her family’s cottage to the back of her mind. That wasn’t why they were here; there was plenty more work to be done.

After they left the Hales, Feyre and Rhys continued down the winding country road, coming across three more homes that reluctantly accepted their help with various tasks. By the time the sun was beginning to set, Feyre’s stomach was growling, and her muscles ached. She didn’t expect any of the mortals to offer food for them, but she hadn’t eaten since that morning.

Darkness was beginning to fall, and there wasn’t much else they would be able to help with today. If people were scared of her and Rhys in the daytime, they definitely weren’t ready for faeries popping out of nowhere after sunset.

They had made progress, she had to admit. But somehow, it still didn’t feel like enough.

It wasn’t even that she felt the need to visit more homes today. Moreso, it was the memory of her old home.

Maybe seeing Isaac and all of these old places had left her feeling nostalgic, but she wasn’t quite ready to return to Velaris.

If so many of these formerly proud homes had been reduced to shambles, how had her family’s old cottage faired? It had been decrepit and forlorn the last time she saw it.

They had been following the main road all day, but Feyre gently pulled Rhys off of it when it came to a fork, leading him up a path she hadn’t trod in years.

She felt her mate’s quiet curiosity prodding at her, but he didn’t say anything. Waiting for her to speak.

“I want to show you something,” she said at last, lacing Rhys’s hand in hers.

“Oh?” he asked, giving her hand a gently squeeze, warmth radiating off of him. She could feel him up against the mental walls of her mind – they were always open for him, just a crack, but he lingered outside them anyway.

“Not in there,” she said. “You’ve already seen it in my mind, anyway.”

“Lead the way, then,” Rhys said, curiosity sparking in his bright eyes.

All day, she had been pointing out various landmarks to Rhys, little places in the world that had been so important to her only a few short years ago. This morning, this had been the one place she hadn’t even considered taking him.

A few more bends in the increasingly steep path, and they stood in front of an old cottage, almost completely fallen into disrepair.

A hovel.

Tamlin’s long-ago words echoed back to her.

But…he hadn’t been wrong. The cottage hadn’t been great then, and its time standing unattended hadn’t helped.

She had been back here once, alone, after Tamlin had packed her off back to the human lands to save her. Like last time, she noted how the door had been rehung, but now the entire cottage was slanting alarmingly to one side. The glass of the small windows was shattered. Clearly the past winter’s winds and snow hadn’t been kind.

It seemed so…small. The size of their massive, open bedroom in the River House.

“This is…” she began.

“I know what it is,” Rhys responded. “Do you want to go in?” he prompted after a long moment.

She nodded, slowly making her way around fallen branches and brush that had started to grow up in the absence of any people.

“This is where Elain had her little garden,” Feyre said, gesturing to an overgrown square of dirt a few paces away from the cottage. “She would tend to it constantly, even in the blazing heat. The flower seeds were such a luxury, and she was determined not to let them die.”

Rhys nodded wordlessly, letting her narrate.

She approached the door with caution – of what, she couldn’t say. There were claw marks gouged into the rotting wood – she didn’t let herself linger on them for long.

With a twist of the handle and a hefty shove with her shoulder, the door gave way with a horrid creaking sound, and she was surprised it didn’t come off its hinges again.

As she stepped over the threshold, a sense of displacement overwhelmed her.

How had this ever been her life?

Now, she woke up in a house with countless rooms, in a warm bed with clean, soft sheets. There were never any old nails sticking out of the floor, the roof never needed patching. No hunger or loneliness, but instead the other half of her heart curled up in bed with her.

Somehow, time must have softened her memories of this cottage, because everything about it was so much worse than she had imagined. But as she scanned the small, decrepit room, she realized there was no hate for it in her heart. Not anymore. It had been shelter, and kept her warm and relatively safe during those brutal years.

If it weren’t for the fact that the cottage was falling apart, it would have looked like its occupants had only stepped out for a moment. Her family had left as soon as they could.

A damp smell of must and mold permeated the air, and Feyre wrinkled her nose. When she glanced up, feeling a draft, she saw that some of the roof had given way, leaving holes in the ceiling.

To her left was their old table, scuffed and wobbly but still standing, with a stack of plates still on it, as if they had been in the middle of setting the table. Feyre crouched down by one of the legs, wiping the grime away to reveal faded flowers painted on it. Little bluebells.

“Now you can see how far my paintings have come,” she said, with more mirth in her voice than she really felt. Her critic’s eye couldn’t help but notice the wrong shade of blue, the way she had painted the petals that made them look flat.

Rhys’s gaze was still fixed on the faded bluebells. “I remember you painting these, you know. I remember feeling how much you cared about these, the thought and dedication that was going into them, even through my dreams.”

A lump rose up in Feyre’s throat. She remembered, of course, the dreams that Rhys had been sent, the ones that coaxed him to find her on Calanmai, but to be here, with those same paintings in front of them…

Her shame washed away. Skill level be damned, the flowers on this table had helped bring Rhys to her. They had provided him a measure of comfort during his darkest times, and she could never be embarrassed about that.

Intertwining her hand in his, she gently tugged Rhys along to the bedroom. It wasn’t a long walk by any means, as it was the only other room the cottage had to offer.

The room was dark and foul-smelling. The ragged bedsheets were half rotted away on the sagging bed where she and her sisters had once slept. This time, she couldn’t help the creeping embarrassment at the pitiful sight before them, but she did her best to brush it away. The bed didn’t matter, nor did her old quiver of arrows peeking out from under the bed, or her sisters’ ragged boots against the wall. She went straight for the dresser, standing just as she had remembered it in the corner.

On the top drawers, flowers for Elain and flames for Nesta, respectively. And the bottom…painted a dark blue, the yellow moon and stars swirling across the knotted wood.

“I didn’t understand why I painted stars, back then. The other two came to me so quickly, and when it came time for my drawer, I was stumped. Elain suggested the woods, because they were quiet and unyielding like me. But I didn’t want to paint that, I already spent so much time there. And then the image of the night sky came to me. It was always there, too, no matter how angry or bitter or starved I was. Even if I didn’t notice it.”

Another wave of emotion pulsed down the bond, and a single look told her Rhys was holding back tears. He knelt and reached out to the wood, tracing the thick whorls of the night sky reverently. These were the first brushstrokes on the canvas on their story, corporeal and in front of them.

“But I know why the thought of the night sky came to me in the first place. You sent the image to me, Rhys. You saved me as much as I saved you.”

“Thank you for bringing me here,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion as he rose back up and squeezed her hand tightly. “I know it wasn’t easy.”

“I’m glad I was able to show them to you.”

She let her gaze travel across the tiny bedroom once more.

“I’m ready to go now.”

It was good to have come, one last time, to see where it had all began. But there wasn’t anything here for her other than dust and memories. Not when so much waited in the present.

Rhys nodded his assent and let Feyre lead him back out, through the doorway and into the crisp night.

In the short time they had been inside, the sky had darkened. The stars were brighter than she had ever remembered them being in the mortal lands. Whether she had immortal vision to thank, or only her memory playing tricks on her, she couldn’t say.

A chill went through her at the sight of these stars. The same ones they gazed on in Velaris. The same ones Rhys had sent her his memories of, years ago. A sense of calm blanketed her.

“Being back here,” she said quietly, knowing Rhys could hear her perfectly. “It just reminds me of how fragile everything is. How impossible it is that all the pieces fell so perfectly into place and brought me to you. If I had gone hunting in a different part of the woods that day I shot Andras, or if I had stayed inside on Calanmai, or if I had told Tamlin I loved him before he sent me away…would things have worked out the same?”

Rhys’s answer was immediate. “I can’t answer that, but I do know the Mother always destined for us to find each other. If my subconscious convincing didn’t coax you out on Calanmai, perhaps you would have fallen into my arms at the Summer Solstice. I would have snuck in and disguised myself, to save you from Tamlin’s fiddle playing.”

That made her laugh. “I was drunk off my ass that night. I would have been stepping on your toes. I’m sure I was stepping on poor Lucien’s.”

“And I would have treasured every bruise on my foot.”

Her thoughts drifted for a moment, resting on a more serious subject. “Do you think there’s a world where I managed to nullify the Cauldron that day in Hybern, and I never went back to Spring?”

“I think even them, we would have made different choices, different sacrifices. And there’s no telling what the outcome would have been. And no matter what you did, Feyre, Tamlin will always be responsible for his own actions. He’s made his choices every day since the War ended.”

She mulled Rhys’s words over for some time. “I know you’re probably right, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept.”

“Then you’ll just have to take my word for it until you do.”

“We’ll have to talk to Tamlin, soon. About fae coming over the wall like this. And we should mention it to Lucien, see if he’s heard any reports.”

“Tomorrow,” he murmured, rubbing gentle circles on her hip. “And the day after.”

She took a long, deep breath, letting her stress and guilt wash in and out, out, out. She thought of the beast roaming half-wild, tearing apart his manor in the Spring Court, losing control of his subjects and letting them do as they pleased. She thought of Micah, the devastation on his face at the loss of his love.

She thought of the quiet hope in Isaac’s eyes, as he focused on rebuilding.

She thought of her sisters, lives changed irrevocably because of her actions – but not for the worse, in the end, it seemed.

“Right now, I just want to focus on being here with you.”

Feyre loved to stand with Rhys behind her with his hands resting on her hips, enclosed by his warmth and scent, but it also – unfairly – meant that she couldn’t see him. She twisted slightly to get a better look at his face. There was that spark in his marvelous eyes that she loved to see.

“Or maybe,” he mused, “there is a world where Tamlin was never cursed, and I had to venture all the way over the Wall to meet the human woman from my dreams.”

“And what would you have done then?” she asked playfully, curious to see where her mate’s imagination took him.

“Hmm,” Rhys considered, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles along her hip. “Well, maybe we would have met in the woods while you were out hunting, and I was searching for the mysterious woman in my dreams. And you would have undoubtedly been charmed by my fantastic wit.

She snorted. “That’s awfully presumptive, even for you. You don’t think I would have tried to shoot you?”

“You would be surprised by how persuasive I can be, when I’m not under duress.”

“That didn’t stop me from throwing a shoe at your head.”

“Yes, but that was when you were under extreme duress,” Rhys said confidently, as if his shoestring logic made any sense at all. “Besides, that only made me fall in love with you more. Imagine how quickly I would have fallen if you had gotten me with an arrow.

She elbowed him in his side, frowning. “That’s not funny, Rhys. I could have hurt you.” Even hypothetically, she didn’t like to think of harm befalling him. Certainly not at her hands.

“But you wouldn’t have. The bond would never have let you truly harm me. And after we met so charmingly in the woods, I would have camped out in the mortal lands and visited your door every day with gifts, like a proper gentleman. Your family would have loved me, and eventually I would have wooed you fully and convinced you to visit Velaris.”

“That part did work pretty well this time around,” Feyre admitted. “Showing me Velaris. It was the first time I began to understand all of your secrets, and suddenly your bizarre contradictions began to make sense.”

Rhys twisted them and softly pressed a kiss to her lips. A first kiss they might have had in the mortal lands, under the watchful eyes of high society.

“The point is, darling, in any lifetime, I believe the Mother would have brought us together. We will always make choices we second guess, and things will always happen that we regret. But I believe there is no world where we are meant to be parted. And if that’s not true…I would rewrite the stars for you anyway.”

“I’m glad our story played out the way it did,” Feyre murmured, her heart swelling at the words. They had both been through so much, sacrificed plenty – especially Rhys, in the long five hundred years before they had met – but today they were alive, and so were their friends and family. Velaris and the Night Court had survived the War. And now she looked to the eternity ahead of her with the one she loved more than anything.

How many other timelines was that true in? There were so many ways their story could have ended in tragedy.

She was eternally grateful it hadn’t.

Grateful, in some strange way, for the dilapidated cottage behind them.

She turned her thoughts away from unpleasant what-ifs, and back to the male at her side.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, heating her skin with his breath. Goosebumps flared up along her arms.

“I love you too,” she replied, leaning into his unfailing strength. They stood there for a long moment, watching the silent sky. Once, she would never have dared to stand outside like this, so close to the woods at night. Now, in some ways, she had become the very thing her human self had feared.

Then again, she had always carried a bit of a beast inside of her. The Ouroboros had shown her that.

“Should we go home?” she asked. “Everyone will be waiting for us at dinner.”

Despite the emotional drain of the day, her heart still thrummed with excitement at the thought of seeing the entire family back together again for the first time in months.

“I suppose we should make sure they haven’t burned the house down,” her mate agreed. “Are you ready to go now?”

Feyre glanced behind them one last time to take a look at the decrepit cottage.

Thank you, she thought, and nodded her assent to Rhys. He pulled her close and winnowed them both away.

#feysand #acotar #acotar fic #rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #in any lifetime darling #kat's writing

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Ok what is the softest pack!lino has ever been? Like has he cuddled with the reader when she was cramping during her period? Did he help Jisung with a dance rourine and even when he was getting frustrated, he took the time to compliment what he got right? HAS HE KISSED CHAN ON THE FOREHEAD WHEN HE WAS ASLEEP AT HIS DESK AND GENTLY GUIDE HIM TO BED SO HE WOULDNT HURT IN THE MORNING AND DENY IT WHEN HE WOKE UP AND SAID IT WAS FELIX??? Sorry that got out of hand, anyway. Soft pack!lino but also tsundere soft pack!lino

Hey, remember when Tumblr had an ask character limit? Yeah, me neither.

"Oh my god." Hyunjin rubs his hands together gleefully. "We get to talk about all of hyung's sappy moments? This is the best day of my life."

"Hwang Hyunjin." Minho fixes the omega with a long stare. "Think this through carefully."

Hyunjin balks a little bit, but straightens up quickly. "You can't do anything to me for spilling your secrets, hyung. Not this time. Not when it's for the sake of the readers and their questions."

Jisung whistles. "Damn. He's right."

Minho looks murderous, but he doesn't say anything else, letting the omega continue.

"I wanna go first, can I go first?" Jeongin exclaims excitedly, bouncing on the couch next to Felix now that he knows Minho can't do anything in retaliation.

Minho sighs. "God, I hate this."

"We know." You grin at him, and he flips you off. You blow him a kiss in response.

"Okay, one time-" Jeongin is practically giddy, not able to hold still as he talks. "-Minho-hyung found a stray kitten outside the dance department. And it was cold and wet, but we couldn't have pets in the dorms, obviously, so he snuck it inside, and spent all night getting it warmed up and calling people he knew who could possibly give it a home."

"God, I really hate this." Minho groans, and Jeongin gives him a bright, affectionate grin.

"His eomma ended up driving down the next day to the take the kitten to live with her at hyung's childhood home. Said since he was an only child, it would be like having him home again."

"I totally remember that." Felix giggles, glancing fondly at Minho, who is stoically not looking at them. "I came over to see the kitten, and hyung had her wrapped up like a baby-burrito style-in a soft pink blanket. He wouldn't put her down for the rest of the night."

"Once, I had a really bad stomach flu and couldn't get out of bed." Changbin starts, glancing at Minho, who rolls his eyes, though the tips of his ears are pink, giving him away. "Couldn't keep anything down, not even water. And hyung insisted on coming over and making me all sorts of soups and broths and teas, until he finally found something I could manage to keep in my stomach." Changbin offers him a smile, arching a brow. "I was worried you would get sick too, but you didn't even listen to my protests. Just told me 'Seo Changbin, I'm coming over whether you like it or not. So either unlock your door or I'll break it down.'"

"God, you really are nothing but a big sap." Jisung says, entirely too fond, and Minho promptly fixes him with another venomous glare.

"Take that back."

"Never."

"I don't sleep well." Chan admits, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly, as he makes eye contact with Minho, before he looks away, neither of them good with direct feelings. He clears his throat. "Everybody here already knows that, but on nights where I can't sleep, when the insomnia is particularly bad, I usually stay up in the living room to work on my current compositions. Eventually, I'll fall asleep on the couch, with my headphones on and my laptop open."

Chan meets Minho's gaze once more, and this time his lips curve into the start of a soft smile.

"I usually wake up in the morning with a blanket tucked around me and my laptop and headphones neatly put away, a pillow slid beneath my head. He'd never admit it, but he cares an incredible amount, it's just usually shown in the quietest, smallest ways, which are actually huge to those of us who love and know him."

"Okay, you being sappy is literally the worst thing that could happen to me." Minho remarks with despair, his brow furrowed in disgust. "What happened to stoicism, Christopher? Tsunderes for life?"

"Hyung knows I like how he smells. A lot." Felix goes next, cuddling in against Minho and grinning up at him, even as said alpha makes a show of pushing him off of him. "So he always wears a hoodie 24/7 on the weekends, and when the week rolls around again, somehow, that exact hoodie always ends up folded neatly on the edge of my bed, ready for my nest."

"Weird." Minho mumbles, ignoring the omega and partially failing as Felix attaches to his side again. "Wonder how that happens, because it definitely isn't me."

"Okay, hyung." Felix giggles, burying his nose into the sleeve of the alpha's sweatshirt.

"One time, he knew I was struggling with a painting." Hyunjin remarks, not glancing at Minho, staring at Jisung's hand in his lap, dutifully playing with his fingers. "It was for an end of year art display on campus and I just couldn't seem to get it right. I kept adding things and taking them away, and I never felt like it was finished, or even worth finishing."

Minho has gone quiet, staring at the head omega intently, his expression unreadable.

Finally, Hyunjin meets his eyes, his lips parted softly, his voice gentle, his usually sharp, intense gaze fuzzy with fondness around the edges.

"Minho-hyung sat me down and told me that my painting was good, great even, and that I didn't need to worry. Told me that I was more talented than I knew and if I was worried about making you all proud, that I shouldn't be, because you were proud of me just for existing, just for being me."

"I also told you if you ever repeated that, I'd immediately kill you." Minho states, but there's a slight mist to his gaze, and he swallows hard after the threatening statement.

Hyunjin shrugs. "It had to be done."

"I'm anxious." Jisung admits softly, chewing on his bottom lip, a nervous habit he's always had. "A lot of the time, actually. It's bad, and sometimes, when I feel out of control, or like I'm going to panic, hyung notices and calms me down."

Hyunjin silently reaches out and swipes his thumb across Jisung's mouth, freeing the beta's lip from between his teeth. Jisung gives him a small, grateful smile.

"Especially in social situations. Sometimes I get overwhelmed, and I feel like I can't breathe, and like the walls are closing in and there's too many people I don't know in my space. Once, when we went to an end of year party for my department, I started to feel anxious, and Minho-hyung noticed the way I was scratching at my pants while sitting down, and he pulled me into the hall and did breathing exercises with me until I felt like I could function again."

Minho's gaze softens slightly as he regards the beta.

"Breathing exercises aren't that big of a deal, Jisungie."

"They are to me." Jisung looks him dead in the eye and holds his gaze seriously, sitting up straighter now. "The ways you manage my anxiety? That's huge to me, hyung."

Hyunjin reaches over and takes the beta's hand, and Jisung squeezes it with a soft smile.

"Hyung's never soft with me." Seungmin deadpans, his expression blank, and Minho fixes him with a dagger like stare.

"That's right. And don't you forget it."

"Lies. All of it." Jisung scoffs, and Seungmin turns to him with glaring betrayal. "You two are literally the softest duo ever, even if neither of you will admit it."

"Like artisan bread-" Felix grins and wiggles his eyebrows playfully at Seungmin. "-hard and crusty on the outside, soft and gooey on the inside."

"Fine." Seungmin sighs with exasperation. "I guess Minho-hyung came to my end of semester presentation and award ceremony when the rest of you couldn't make it because you were out of town, but that was one time."

"Ahh." Jeongin coos, patting Minho on the thigh with a gleefully wicked look. "What a good dad."

"Yang Jeongin. I will murder you."

Seungmin settles back into the couch and tries to ignore Jisung's triumphant grin from beside him.

"Shortly after we all got together, I had to have surgery." You say, taking in a deep breath, as everyone turns their eyes on you, Minho included. You smile ruefully, kicking your toe along the carpet. "I'm sure everyone remembers, it wasn't like a big deal or anything, just my appendix getting taken out, but I was flat on my back for the first couple of days of recovery."

"I couldn't get up to shower or take care of myself, so when the dressing finally came off on the third day, I was determined to get myself cleaned up." You shake your head slightly. "I'm stubborn, so I didn't ask for help, and I literally got to the side of the bed before it hurt so bad I stopped."

"I resigned myself to being disgusting and hairy and greasy forever, and that's when Min showed up." You glance fondly at the other alpha. "I don't know how you knew."

"Please." Minho rolls his eyes. "I have a radar for my packmates doing stupid, stubborn things they shouldn't be. It's a necessity when living with all of you."

"Anyway." You grin and continue. "He showed up, didn't say a word, just helped me up out of the bed, to the bathroom, and ran me a bath. He sat beside the tub and helped me scrub my hair and my skin and then he shaved my legs for me, taking time to let me adjust to more comfortable positions when it pulled my incision a little too much."

"All of this without a word, because he knew I'd feel stupid and embarrassed. And then he helped me dry off and get dressed and get back to bed."

"Ahhh." Jisung coos, looking at the alpha with literal heart eyes now. "Hyung, you never told me that."

"Because if I did, I'd have to kill you." Minho replies dangerously.

The tips of his ears are now more than a little pink, giving him away.

#skz #stray kids #stay #ot8 #skz!pack #skz!abo #poly!skz #omegaverse #skz x you #skz x reader #bang chan #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #lee felix #han jisung #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #y/n #ask the pack #askthepack #skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #inbox #reply #ask #moots #mutuals #anon

[mygalaxypoetry]

Sagau with Creator but... pt.3

Razor was suspicious about your presence and the answer you gave him so he decided to bring to his family- or lupical to keep an eye on you.

You agreed with him since you needed a place to rest, and someone watching you is better than sleeping in a forest with batsh#t nothing.

"Never got your name..."

"It's [Name], what about you?"

"I am Razor"

"Nice to meet you, Razor"

Even though he was suspicious of you, he treated you kindly with some raw meat. There wasn't a fire nearby so you decided to go "survival of the fittest" and ate it raw.

You actually enjoyed even if it didn't have any flavor, you might get sick the day after but... eh, what's food is food

It was kinda unsettling for him to watch you while you sleep but you couldn't just get up and leave so you went to bed under a tree.

Once morning rolled around, you and Razor went up to Andrius to inspect you. Well, that's what you assumed...

Andrius got out of his sleeping state and greeted Razor a discussion about manners but when he laid his eyes on you...

You were not ready for his reaction.

"Your grace! I was not informed that you were meeting me today. What may I assist you?"

You were... confused to say the least. By that whole sentence entirely, even Razor was confused.

Andrius took Razor to the side to have some small talk and once they were done, Razor bowed his head and apologized that he assumed you were suspicious.

"Hehehe... I'm still a bit confused but there's no need for an apology. It's normal for you to feel suspicious about someone who feels off anyway"

He then gave you a hug, saying loads of Thank yous.

"I am sorry to interrupt your conversation, but may I ask. Why did you come to Wolvendom first instead of Mondstat?" Andrius asked.

You told him that you had a feeling that Mondstat wasn't safe place to go to at the moment so you decided to walk around the wilderness instead.

"I understand your explanation, though word of advice. Be careful, your Grace. If you want, you can take my most trusted lupical from my pack" he looked over to Razor.

"I will protect you, your Grace..."

You thought about for a bit and nodded your head, in which Razor was really happy.

You two said goodbye to Andrius and walked out of Wolvendom.

Once again, avoiding Springvale. You wandered around the lands of Mondstat.

Going up Starsnatch cliff to see the beautiful scenery, collecting small bits of mushrooms, flowers and fruits, finding some crystals and iron, getting fish with your bare hands were a lot of fun.

After a few days of mindless wandering, you decided you wanted to fight a ruin guard to test your strength. You didn't fight actual fights so its time to put up one!

Razor, however, was a bit worried about your decision. Not so say you were weak or anything! Quite the opposite really!! But...

"Why not you fight along side me? So that when I'm down, you can finish the robot!" You reasoned with him.

He gave in.

You walked up to the Ruin Guard in the Thousand-winds temple and started fighting it.

And to put in brief:

It. Was. A. Rush!!

You felt... alive!! This might be the adrenaline talking but it was the most you felt alive in DAYS!!

Boom bam, bap! The Ruin Guard was getting OWNED!!!

Razor can only watch from the side since he was getting tired, but when he saw you fight. It was thrilling!

He watched you teleport from one end to another, Giving the ruin guard a hard punch, floating in the air and then smashing onto the ground!

It was... kinda scary when yourself in the victims shoes.

And he thought you were done, you balled your hand into a fist and stood your ground. Your hand started glowing [favorite color] and readied your attack

"A thousand winds....

SMASHHH!!"

Wind channeled through your hand and you punched where the ruin guard's weakness is, successfully destroying it.

... bless the poor soul that had the guts to go up to you. (Probably Childe)

---

Hehehe, made another one!!

#genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #creator au #self aware genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #gender neutral character #my hero academia #bnha

[cheesy09]

[CN] Kiro’s Habitat Date

🌸 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date that hasn't been released on the EN server yet! 🌸

Note: In order to fully enjoy and appreciate this date, please read the date's corresponding birthday prequel here. (And maybe even Fulfilling Date and its corresponding birthday prequel if you haven't already~)

MC: You’re saying that the boathouse won’t be able to make it to Loveland City today?

??: Sorry, but due to sudden bad weather and low visibility, the transport ship isn’t able to travel.

MC: But according to our agreement, the boathouse should have arrived a week ago, and you clearly stated a few days ago that it would be delayed until yesterday at the latest.

??: I’m truly sorry. The loss caused by the delayed will be compensated according to the contract.

MC: I’m not asking for compensation...

I took a deep breath with complicated emotions and spoke again with the last bit of hope.

MC: Anyway, the boathouse can’t be transported tonight, right?

??: Yes.

MC: ......

After confirming the final arrival time of the boathouse, I hung up the phone and stepped on the gas pedal with complete disappointment.

Kiro was currently directing a remake of a classic film, which coincidently coincided with his birthday. Considering the fact that he would be busy with filming, I had made a birthday plan for him one and a half month ago - 

Smuggle Kiro’s boathouse from California to Loveland City, and pick him up from set to celebrate his birthday at the boathouse in the port after work ended.

Originally, the transport ship would have arrived in Loveland City a week ago, but the transportation process had been delayed again and again... and even today, it was still “on the way”. 

Thinking back to how I mysteriously asked him to look forward to his birthday surprise tonight before he left for work this morning, I couldn’t help but sigh repeatedly, not wanting to lose the reigns on his birthday.

MC: I’ll have to make other arrangements...

I was thinking about which restaurant to book when the car’s phone rang again. I pressed answer and glanced at the name on the screen, and my nerves jumped.

Kiro: Beautiful lady who’s coming to visit the set~ have you set off yet? The crew’s about to take their lunch break.

The energetic voice immediately filled the entire vehicle, dispelling my bad mood a bit.

MC: I’ll be there in about ten minutes~

Kiro: Got’cha! Also, I want to tell you something--

Kiro: In order to reveal my evening birthday surprise earlier, my shooting today was very efficient.

My smile froze at the corner of my mouth for an instant, and when I hesitated to say something, I heard “Director Kiro” from the other end of the phone.

Kiro: I have to hang up first. Savin will pick you up at the entrance of the studio. See you!

The second after he hung up the phone, I let out a sigh of relief and secretly encouraged myself in my heart.

I’ve got to make a perfect remedy plan and not let him down!

[PART 2]

As soon as I arrived at the entrance of the studio, Savin greeted me.

Savin: MC, the crew’s birthday preparations are all ready. As expected of your ideas, the kid will definitely love it.

MC: That’s fine, but my surprise tonight has changed...

I forced a smile and complained to him about the boathouse transportation.

MC: I just booked a few restaurants for Plan B, and I’ll go check the restaurant layout in the afternoon. If Kiro asks at that time, I’ll have to trouble you to cover for me.

Savin agreed without hesitation, and I confirmed the restaurant reservations again before walking to the set.

-

The shooting location was located in a villa, and the spacious area was packed with filming equipment. Among the many figures, the eyes of Kiro, who was talking to others, met mine almost telepathically. His blue pupils lit up for a moment, and he glanced at his watch.

Kiro: It’s lunch break, let’s rest!

Seeing everyone leaving the room one after another, I deliberately cupped my fists and walked over with a smile.

MC: You’ve worked hard, Director Kiro.

Kiro followed my example and bowed.

Kiro: Not hard at all. Welcome, Big Producer, MC. Your presence here has filled this small studio with splendor.

MC: Pfft-

Seeing that I couldn’t help laughing, Kiro quietly grabbed my finger and squeezed it.

MC: This seems to be my first visit to “Director Kiro’s” class.

Kiro: Shall I show you around then? I promise there are many things you won’t see in other studios.

Seeing his high spirits, I clapped my hands and followed his footsteps.

MC: Then please lead the way, Director Kiro~

-

Kiro: ...This sandbag is our decompression artifact. We come her to ‘bangbang!’, throw punches when the pressure is too much.

Kiro: This is the ‘blind box’, which contains a lot of candies and notes with various small challenges, which is our favorite activity during the break!

Kiro: And this...

He gleefully introduced to me various novel things until he led me to an empty room.

-

Large tracts of sunlight passed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and spread on the wooden floor, making it appear bright and comfortable.

Kiro: This is the highlight of this "set tour" - the performance training room for the cast and crew.

MC: Are you still doing actor training on the set?

Seeing me slightly surprised, Kiro seemed a little proud.

Kiro: Most of the crew are new actors. Training on set can not only allow them to effectively enter the performance state, but also relax and adjust the state when tired.

Kiro: You must remember that no matter what kind of work you do, your good condition comes first.

MC: [grinning] Being a member of your crew must be nice--

I felt sincerely. I walked in curiously and looked around, and found that there was only one high-end speaker in the entire room.

MC: It's so empty here. What kind of training are you doing?

Kiro: Many, including body movements and lines. But the most popular one is the imagination and sensitivity training.

Kiro: Do you still remember that I like to let myself go and do various imaginings during dance practice? That's a habit I retained because of this training.

MC: So that's it~ I thought acting classes were just about acting non-stop. I didn't expect such training.

Seeing my look of interest, he blinked.

Kiro: Want to try it?

Kiro: But first of all, taking one of my classes is very expensive.

MC: [teasing smile] Can a hot pot meal afford Director Kiro's class?

Kiro: A kiss from MC is enough.

Kiro: Close your eyes, focus on your breathing. Inhale, exhale... You are now in darkness and can only feel your own existence.

Following his words, I felt my heart slowly calm down.

Kiro: ...You see a bright light at the end of the darkness. Through the bright light, you come to a lush forest with colorful flowers blooming on the roadside. The fragrance of flowers and the warm sunshine make you feel comfortable. You continue walking deep into the forest and see your favorite person.

The corners of my mouth turned up unconsciously and I pictured that familiar figure in my mind. The golden sunshine outlined his delicate face, and his clear blue eyes were filled with bright colors.

The eyes in the picture were slightly bent, but the voice in my ears suddenly became happy.

Kiro: Question! Who did you see in your mind?

MC: Eh? Is there also a Q&A session?

Kiro: Hehe, I really can't fool Miss Chips.

I opened my eyes and saw Kiro with a successful smirk on his face. Just as I was about to joke with him, there was a sudden polite knock on the door.

??: Director, please take a look at this long shot.

A staff member pushed open the door a crack with unconcealed anticipation on his face.

Kiro: Right now?

Kiro slowly stood up in confusion.

Kiro: Strange, why are you working during lunch break today?

Staff member: Well... you did it in the past.

The other party's hesitant attitude moved my heart. I secretly glanced at my phone, and sure enough, I saw the text message Savin sent a minute ago.

Savin: The birthday celebrations are ready.

Kiro: ...All right. Miss Chips, I'm going to take a look. Just wait for me.

MC: I'll go with you!  

-{Cut to Studio}-

Without waiting for his reaction, I walked out of the room first and sat in front of the director's monitor as planned.

Kiro followed me with a face full of suspicion. When he saw everyone in the crew gathered there, he blinked even more doubtfully and slowly sat down next to me.

The black display screen in front of him immediately lit up, and a close-up of a cake appeared.

Then the scene gradually zoomed out, and a staff member entered the picture and made a big heart sign to the camera--

Staff member: Director Kiro, I wish you all the best~

Kiro's eyes immediately widened, and I continued to look at the screen with satisfaction.

The screen kept panning, and the crew members who came into the picture one after another performed cute poses and shouted their blessings to Kiro.

??: I wish Director Kiro will always be handsome!

??: Kiro, best wishes for you!

With a bright smile, I waited until the camera came in front of me and Kiro. I cleared my throat and solemnly turned to meet his eyes.

MC: Kiro, happy birthday!

[PART 3]

Kiro: I declare that this is the best gift I have received this year!

Kiro, after thanking everyone, he cut the cake and distributed it to the crew. When the crowd gradually dispersed, he stuffed a big mouthful of cake into my mouth while praising me.

Kiro: I can't even remember the last time I had a birthday on set. But what is certain is that this one is the most unforgettable one for me.

MC: So how did you celebrate your birthday on set?

Kiro: Just by eating cake and taking a photo~ After all, the crew had a packed schedule. Everything had to be kept simple, and occasionally, it'd even be missed.

MC: And the birthday?

The news that I saw on the internet the other day suddenly came to mind, and I nodded in understanding.

MC: I'll just say it. Some time ago, someone started spreading rumors online that you didn't celebrate your birthday on the set of "Three Kingdoms" because you were at odds with the crew.

Kiro: We were at odds??

Kiro opened his mouth wide, looking angry and dignified.

Kiro: The people on the "Three Kingdoms" crew were very kind to me! The seniors felt sorry for me for eating fat-reducing meals and often stuffed me with small deserts.

Kiro: And if they hadn't reminded me that day, I would have forgotten that I had a birthday. The director also gave me a special birthday gift.

MC: What did he give?

Kiro: I was still a newcomer at the time. After filming my scenes, I would go to a small corner where no one noticed and watch and learn. As a result, after I finished filming on my birthday, the director suddenly called me over--

Kiro crossed his legs and formed a deep "double eyelid" on his eyebrows.

Kiro: [In an exaggerated deep voice] "Is your life only about the studio?"

Kiro: "Don't hang around on the set, go celebrate your birthday. Eat a cake, make a wish, and meet your friends and family."

MC: So cool... so where did you go?

Kiro's expression paused almost imperceptibly, as if he went into a momentary trance.

The curve of his lips was still very moving, but his starry eyes flickered gently, as if he was quietly touching that past.

Then, he slowly leaned on my shoulder.

Kiro: I asked myself the same question at the time.

His eyes fell on the script in his hand, and his soft voice floated past my ears, like a cloud that didn't know its direction.

Kiro: I thought about it for a long time, but couldn't figure out the answer.

Kiro: So I just strolled along the street, passing by office buildings, parks, departments stores...

Kiro: Finally, I walked to a very busy street and sat down on a bench on the side of the road.

His tone became calmer and calmer, as if something very heavy had reappeared in its lightest form.

But my heart felt like it had been stabbed. At that time, Kiro had just returned to China, and as he was still unfamiliar with the place, he probably didn't have a lot of options to "have a good birthday".

I slipped my fingers between his and clasped his palm slowly and solemnly. Kiro raised his eyes and showed me a beautiful smile, as if relieved.

Kiro: I initially just wanted to take a break.

Kiro: But when I was sitting there, I saw many adults rushing back to their companies after eating, and children being picked up after school with big schoolbags on their backs...

Kiro: I watched them for a long time without realizing it.

No matter how relaxed his expression was, that lonely figure still appeared in front of me.

Unconsciously, there was a sourness at the tip of my nose. I shook his hand and deliberately relaxed my tone.

MC: Sounds like young Kiro was envious of how busy others were?

He also laughed when he heard this and nodded without concealment.

Kiro: I was very envious.

Kiro: I envied that they were spending another ordinary day, completing their menial tasks for the day in different places, and then going home to enjoy a warm meal.

Kiro: I was even more envious that they seemed to know exactly where they were going and what they were supposed to do.

He lowered his eyes again and his fine eyelashes cast a fine shadow on his cheeks, like an unsharpened blade, brushing across the tip of my heart.

Before I could say anything else, he had already raised his head and knitted his eyebrows together in an exaggerated manner, looking a little pitiful.

Kiro: Unlike me. I even took a sudden "short vacation" without a plan in mind, and could only eat the company's fat-reducing meals--

Kiro: Later, Savin found me and decided to give me a birthday present. I was even looking forward to a cake.

Kiro: As a result, that strict and stingy agent excused me on the grounds that I needed to control my weight while filming, and waited until filming was completed to treat me to a meal.

I was momentarily stunned and realized that he was deliberately trying to lighten the atmosphere, so I cooperated and helped him complain about Savin.

But after hearing Kiro's account of the past, an idea gradually emerged in my mind.

--Perhaps the best alternative was the birthday surprise I prepared for him this year.

[PART 4]

The lunch break ended quickly and Kiro got into shooting mode in full swing. While he wasn't paying attention, I quietly left the set.

When I returned, the entire sky was filled with darkness and there was a constant flow of traffic on the streets. It seemed that many people were rushing towards their homes.

There were only a few figures left in the villa, and everyone seemed to have called it a day. Kiro was sitting in a corner, looking at the script in his hand intently.

He raised his head when he heard the sound, and the moment he saw me, his shoulders slumped with a look of discontent on his face.

Kiro: Where have you been? Why didn't you answer the phone? Everyone's gone home. I've been waiting for you for a long time.

I walked up behind him and squeezed his shoulder.

MC: Sorry for the long wait. I had some things to deal with temporarily~

MC: As compensation for keeping you waiting, and as a reward for your hard work today, let me relieve your stress.

Kiro: Relieve my stress?

MC: That's right. Using the way you like~

I winked at him, took out my phone and clicked on a piano song, then reached out and gently touched his eyes.

MC: Now close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Inhale, exhale...

MC: You're in a colorful world, and besides yourself, you can also feel my presence.

Kiro: Pfft--

Kiro: This teacher isn't only suspected of selling what she has learned now, but is also a bit of an amateur.

MC: Don't question the teacher. This is my unique and innovative method.

MC: Anyway, please relax and give yourself to me wholeheartedly~

Kiro held back his laughter and cooperatively took deep breaths, gradually getting into it. I took his hand and walked cautiously towards the door.

-

MC: You and I are walking in a quiet alley.

MC: The sunshine now is warm and abundant, shining on the walls made of marshmallows, filling the alley with a sweet smell.

I led Kiro, who had his eyes tightly closed, all the way to the front of the car.

MC: We spotted a car parked at the end of the alley...

My brain suddenly shut down, and I couldn't speak any more.

Kiro: [smiling softly with eyes closed] A small car suspended in the air surrounded by stars?

MC: Yes, the star car.

I ignored the curvature of Kiro's mouth, slowly led him into the car and started the engine.

MC: Now we are going to take this star car and drive to a mysterious place.

MC: The sound of the giant trees swaying in the breeze drifts past our ears, and the clouds in the sky are also swaying. The distant horizon vaguely reveals a patchwork of valleys, and several white windmills are slowly turning their blades...

Along with the music, I work hard to weave every beautiful picture.

The starlight outside the car window flickered in front of me, but it seemed like I could really feel the gentleness of the sun. Sometimes I accidentally got stuck on my words, and Kiro would cooperate and pick up the next sentence without opening his eyes.

The vehicle drove around the corner and came to a familiar single-family house. After I parked the car, I helped Kiro down and walked to the door.

MC: I guess we've arrived at the terminal~

MC: To be precise, there is a door in front of you. The door is very ordinary, nothing special.

MC: But behind this door is my full heart for you... and an apology.

Kiro: Apology?

Seeing him tilting his head in confusion, I embarrassedly told him the entire story.

MC: There have been some changes in what I originally prepared for you, making it impossible for me to give it to you today.

MC: So I changed my plan and carefully prepared this surprised now. Hope it doesn't disappoint you.

After saying that, I took a deep breath, grabbed his hand and pushed open the door.

-

MC: Open your eyes now.

His long eyelashes fluttered and raised, and a warm courtyard was reflected in his clear eyes.

Large bouquets of colorful flowers were dotted on the grass in the garden, and a delicate and beautiful round table was clustered in the center.

The hot plate on the table was filled with a variety of dishes. The breeze spread the fragrance of rice, and the taste of happiness filled the entire courtyard.

MC: Welcome back to our home, Kiro.

Kiro: Did you... run home specially to make these for me in the afternoon?

He opened his eyes wide. There seemed to be stars dancing in his ocean-like eyes.

MC: I was a little pressed for time, so I don't know how it tastes~ And...

I opened the map on my phone and zoomed in on an area of the sea with my finger.

MC: The surprise I originally prepared for you is here - I transported your boathouse to Loveland City.

Kiro was stunned for a moment, then his eyebrows rose up high.

Kiro: You mean the boathouse in California?

I nodded and told him the story in detail.

MC: ...You're so busy now that you aren't even able to go to California even once a year. You probably miss it a lot.

MC: It's also very important to you. In addition to the meaning of home, it's more like an old friend from thousands of miles away. So I thought about bringing it back so that you could go to many places with it again.

Kiro: Miss Chips...

He suddenly hugged me in his arms and rubbed his fluffy blond hair against the crook of my neck.

Kiro: I've wanted to take the time to go to California with you to see it, but I couldn't find the right time.

Kiro: Thank you~ for bringing it to me.

He put slight distance between us and motioned to the food on the table with his eyes.

Kiro: What about these?

The lights in the courtyard fell on Kiro's eyes, reflecting my somewhat distressed and relieved expression.

MC: These... are actually my last minute ideas.

MC: When I heard what you said on set today, I felt very sad... and very regretful.

MC: I was thinking that, if I'd found you earlier, or been found by you, that Kiro wandering on the street wouldn't exist, right?

MC: Because he'd be like those children after school, knowing firmly where they should return to.

MC: So this meal isn't strictly a surprise.

MC: It's just a common meal that came late after many years.

I looked steadily at the quiet Kiro, his warm eyes tracing my brows, as if looking into the bottom of my heart.

Kiro: Miss Foolish Chips...

Kiro: I haven't finished what I said in the afternoon.

He sighed and put his arm around my shoulders again, the familiar warmth enveloping my entire body and filling my heart.

Kiro: In fact, after meeting you, I'm no longer hesitant.

Kiro: As long as you're always here, I'll be confident in whatever I do. This was also the reason why I chose the current script regardless of the controversy.

Kiro: I just simply wanted to do this, not caring about anyone else's opinions or evaluations.

Kiro: I don't need to prove to others that I'm a good actor or singer, nor do I need to find my own place and strive to be recognized by others.

Kiro: Because my place is right here.

Kiro: Right next to you.

Kiro: So don't feel bad or regretful. Today, I just want you to be happy.

MC: [blushing profusely] It's obviously your birthday, why do you want me to be happy?

I spoke sullenly in his arms, feeling a tremor in my skin touching his chest.

Kiro: My birthday is the oldest, so I have the final say.

Kiro: I want to give you half of every birthday blessing I receive today.

His deceitful tone was wrapped in a clear preference, which made me take a deep breath and stabilize my trembling heart.

MC: Okay, then we'll be happy together.

The breeze quietly picked up, making the bouquets of flowers and grass in the yard rustle.

That was also the voice in my heart.

Translation Masterlist: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc kiro #WHOLESOME 🥺💞

[dotster001]

Soft part 10 out of however many it takes for my coworker friend to like Lucifer

Summary: your new plan to fluster Lucifer into revealing his plans to win your heart is, as per usual, arriving with unexpected consequences.

A/N: *nervous laughter* it's been a long time since I updated this, so a lot of you may be behind....oops

Chapters: one two three four five six seven eight nine

"This is disgusting," Solomon said, furrowing his brow in complete confusion and disgust.

The thing he was looking at? 

You hanging off of Lucifer's arm as you whispered flirtily into his ear. Well, more like an attempt at flirtily whispering in his ear. It was clear you were not feeling it.

And as for Lucifer, he seemed to be trying to not react, and keep his face as neutral as possible. Neither of them was benefitting from this, but both were too prideful to end it, so the game of chicken seemed to have no end in sight.

Which Solomon wouldn't have cared less about…if he wasn't supposed to be teaching self defense spells right now.

As one might imagine, it was not going well, when his student and their main teacher were too busy trying to outplay one another in a game only they understood. 

He quickly shot a text to Satan.

So…Y/N and Lucifer…

Are they still doing that? 😒

Care to explain what's going on?

Not really, no.

But whatever it is, they've been doing it an entire week.

It's really annoying.

Aw, feeling neglected? 🥺

Satan stopped responding to Solomon's texts. Sighing to himself, he packed up everything he had brought with him, and started to head for the door.

"We'll try this again next week, since you both seem a bit preoccupied," he said over his shoulder, hearing what sounded vaguely like an "uh huh" from someone, but no other reaction besides that.

He really hoped one of them snapped before next week.

….

The first couple days of shamelessly flirting with Lucifer, you had felt nothing but deep nausea in the pit of your stomach. As the week had progressed, though, you had built up a bit of an immunity. It was easier to flirt him up. 

At least you hoped it was an immunity. There was no world where you were ready to process what it meant if it were something else.

The other boyfriends, meanwhile, were being very pouty.

"It's not fair. We loved you first. Lucifer should just get in line and wait his turn," Levi said with a pout.

The brothers had shown up in your room that morning for an unexpected intervention. You hadn't even been awake for two seconds when Levi had started talking.

Asmo wasn't even looking. He was facing the opposite way of the bed, arms crossed, face contorted into a childish pout.

"They don't even love him," he said, his protruding lower lip evident in his voice. "Well, not yet anyway. They're close but not quite there."

"I'm yer first man! If yer gonna spend all yer time focusing on one person, it should be me!" Mammon cried from the spot where he was laying his head in your lap.

"I've told you a million times, your not the first man anymore-"

"Shut yer face, Levi!"

"What are you hoping to accomplish here, that teaming up with the rest of the anti Lucifer League wouldn't?" Satan asked calmly, his white knuckles betraying the rage he was holding back.

You opened your mouth to respond, but honestly you couldn't come up with an answer. What were you hoping to gain?

"Checkmate," Belphie said with a smirk.

Suddenly, Beel locked the door.

Tag list- @leonia0 @eccedentesiast-sapphic @your-next-daydream

"You're not leaving until you can give us a real answer," Satan said, giving what sounded like an evil laugh.

#obey me #obey me brothers #poly! obey me #lucifer x reader #om! lucifer

[jaxteller87]

where I need to be part 2

Amber’s POV

I was rifling through Jax’s dorm room, looking for a lighter to spark up. I rolled a joint before I left and thought I’d smoke up before we went out for lunch. I was having much luck, so my search led me to his desk drawer, where my eyes caught sight of STD paperwork crammed into the back. I wouldn’t have noticed, nor would I have even looked at it if the bundle of papers wasn’t stopping me from closing the drawer properly. I took it out, flattened the edges, and went to lay it back in by the time I actually realized what I was looking at. With the unlit joint resting between my lips, I started flipping through the pages. A rush of relief washed over me as I saw all the results came back negative, spanning the past three months, but I couldn’t help but wonder what would possess somebody to hold on to this kind of incriminating information. The last thing I’d want is for my STD results to become common knowledge to any random passerby, even if it did declare a clean bill of health. If you ask me, there was a reason someone gets checked in the first place, and that’s generally because something prompted them to.

“Hey, darlin’,” Jax beamed, strolling in from the SAMCRO throwdown.

“I didn’t know you kept this type of paperwork just lying around,” I said, a hint of concern in my voice.

“Yup, sure do. Been keepin’ it for quite a while now,” he replied, plopping down beside me on the bed.

“Um, okay,” I raised my eyebrows, still not entirely understanding his methodology. “Why, though?”

“To let any lady know I’m clean, even though I always wrap my shit. Can’t take chances,” he explained, taking a swig of his beer. “You know what they say, no glove— no love.”

“What?” I chuckled. 

“You never heard that before?” He looked at me, half surprised. “No glove— no love? You gotta wrap it before you can slap it, darlin’.”

“I’ve never heard it put quite as delicately as that,” I admitted. A smile crept across my face while I wondered just how many rhymes the man had about putting a condom on his little Teller.

“Well, I don’t always think with Jax Jr. like most men. I know there’s more at risk than just having a mini-me running around here,” he quipped. “The only one I’m not nervous to sleep with is Ima; on the rare occasion, it does happen ’cause I know Luann has the girls tested all the time.”

That last part stung me a little and pulled me right out of my momentary daydream. “That’s good, I guess—”

“What?”

Oh, shit— I didn’t want him to think I meant ‘that’s good, that you occasionally sleep with Ima.’ “I’m just saying it’s good that Luann makes sure the girls are all tested.”

“Oh, of course. It’d be bad for business to have a chlamydia breakout or something. That’s why Tig’s not allowed any of the girls,” Jax polished off the rest of his beer.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. As a matter of fact, she added a clause in their contracts stating that Tig is off-limits. That man doesn’t care where he sticks the little tigger, that’s for sure.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I uh— well, that’s kind of gross— but at the same time, I kind of feel bad for him.”

“Who, Tig?” Jax scoffed, which turned into full-blown laughter. “Don’t bother. It doesn’t slow him down any. Besides, I think he likes cold-packing more anyway.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what that even means, but I feel like if I look it up later, I’ll end up seeing something I don’t want to see,” I cautiously admitted.

“It’s when you fuck a dead chick,” Jax said like it was normal.

I felt a lump moving up in my throat, and I instantly wanted to puke just hearing it. “Okay, new subject. Can we stay in here for a while?” I asked curiously.

“We can,” he said, kissing my cheek. “Figured that’s why you were in here,” he chuckled.

“Well, I was hoping while I’m in town, we could have a little fun,” I teased, kissing his forehead.

The next morning found myself wrapped up in my best friend’s arms.

“Morning, my love,” he whispered, and I kissed the tip of his nose.

“Thank you for last night. It was the best orgasm I’ve had in a while.”

“I’m all about service, darlin’,” he chuckled.

“My vibrator at home doesn’t cut it now that I’ve had the real thing. More importantly, the emotional connection,” I confessed.

I was starting to realize that what got me off the most was the emotional connection with Teller. And him calling me his naughty little beauty helped.

The rest of the day was spent at the lake, fishing and enjoying each other’s company. It had been one of our favorite things to do since we were kids.

“Tell me, Amber,” Jax said later that night as he fried the fish we caught. “I see your mind going.”

“No, it’s downright odd, if not dumb,” I laughed, helping with the meal.

“Don’t give me that look,” I chuckled as he raised an eyebrow at me.

“Does it bug you that you’re the only guy I’ve slept with?”

“No, not to sound like a cocky asshat, but it’s hot as hell,” he replied.

“Like we talked a while ago, I’m enjoying learning with you, even though sometimes it’s aggravating for you.”

“Well, I lasted longer than three seconds last night, so I wasn’t as annoyed,” I teased, laughing with him.

Jax’s POV

“Harder, papa,” she cooed as we lay on the living room floor later that night, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows around us.

“There she goes again,” I thought to myself; her moans meant that I was hitting the right spot. The sheer confidence caused a smirk to form on my lips. Growling in her ear, I praised her, relishing the good girl she was trying to be. But as she looked up at me, I could see the pain in her eyes, the demons she was desperately trying to escape. I kissed her forehead gently, whispering, “You feel so good.”

It was a familiar dance we’d been engaged in for the past few months. I couldn’t fix her; I knew that. Not with just sex. But if I could take the pain away, if only for a little while, then I was going to try.

“Thank you,” she breathed a few minutes later, a radiant smile lighting up her face. “Best orgasms I’ve had in weeks.”

And then came the aftercare, a routine we’d come to know well. Drinks, cuddles, her favorite forehead kisses, and my beard scratches. I loved the way she gently scratched my beard, a gesture that never failed to send shivers down my spine.

“Are you warm enough? I can grab another blanket from the sofa,” I offered, concern lacing my words.

“No, I’m good with just the one,” she replied, pressing a soft kiss to my chest.

“You don’t have to go home tomorrow,” I said softly, knowing the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“No. How about you? You’re not busy, are you?” she asked as we settled into our full-body snuggle.

“No, actually, just mechanic stuff. No club stuff, surprisingly,” I chuckled, holding her close. “What do you want to do?”

“Anything as long as it’s with you,” she smiled. 

#jax teller x oc #jax teller x disabled reader #jax teller fluff

[winterpinetrees]

It is good? No. But it is. (the plot begins)

I have not written any fiction (barring school assignments) in four years. I do not remember how to format dialogue. This is some hybrid of Silmarillion-style summary and normal fiction writing. 

Someday I'll look back at this and cringe but that means that I'll have done something better by then. This is tumblr after all.

Anyway, here’s the start of The Gap Years.

June 7th, 2019

The Elf capital 

Marin Sondaica -the son of Apex Emer Sondaica- and a prince of the entire Elven World, leaves a note by his bed. It reads “To all it will concern. Like my mother before me, and our highest ancestor long before her, I will be spending some time in the Human World. I will be back in about a decade. Don’t look for me unless it’s an emergency.” Marin is a lean, athletic boy with mostly African features and dark brown hair styled into shoulder-length dreadlocks. He’s trying to dress like a normal American teen, which has led to a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off, black elven boots, and cargo pants. He’s taking a gap year. Ten of them, actually. He picks up a messenger bag and casts an illusion to become invisible before walking to the ground floor. He leaves an emerald green silhouette for an instant after disappearing. Soon, he will be in the human world. 

Not even twenty-four hours later, as Marin wanders San Francisco, a Gens Mercuralis soldier stomps into his old room and finds the untouched note.

…………

The evening after the soldier finds the note, Ryn looks out at the night sky. He’s trying to look at the stars, but the city and the fireworks are throwing off too much light. He shouldn’t care. He just pulled off a coup, after all. Ryn is looking at stars he can barely see from a balcony of the palace, and he’s reached such heights without losing anyone that he really cares about. The next morning, as dictated by tradition, Ryn’s allies will announce the elves who died in the attacks. Ishtar will not be named, and neither will Arjuna, or any of his new council. or his children.  Everything is going great and he should not care about light pollution.

He hears Ishtar behind him. He’s never met an elf with louder footsteps, and her ancestral armor isn’t made for stealth. Blood drips off of it onto the balcony. Tradition dictates that she cannot remove her armor until the next morning. Ryn thinks that most noble traditions only exist to make everyone miserable. That being said, he is a noble too. Just one that swears on old astronauts instead of Lazarus and his void. Ishtar leans over the balcony and stares down at the water. Her eyes still glow like indigo embers hours after the end of the fighting. 

“We did it.” She says, exhausted. “I thought I would enjoy it more. Getting proper revenge? Doing what I was made for? I guess we gave up feeling that sort of good a while ago”. 

“We did do it.” It was an amazing thought. After decades of planning, they’d taken over the world. “And we decided a long time ago to forget what we were made for”. 

Fireworks burst over the harbor. This wasn’t just any coup. They had public support and an actual vision! This was uncharted territory. Ryn was the first Voyager in thousands of years to do anything new! He took Ishtar’s hand. It was bloody, but who cared. He’d planned half the scheme, might as well own it. 

“And Izzy, we have time to feel good. It’s over. The human world is going to be tedious -we’re going to be working on that for the rest of our lives- but we can't lose.” The hard part was over. She was the Apex now, and he was a Councillor. Another impossible height he’d reached.  “We have all the time in the worlds. Us and Arjuna and the kids in a universe that is going to be better, for once.”

She smiles faintly “Our kids are never going to feel like this”

…………

June 10th 2019

San Francisco, CA

Brian, Sierra, and Clay finish packing their heavily modified car and drive towards the center of the city. They’ve given their parents a similar message. “We’ll be back for the holidays. We’re not going to do anything that causes a scandal.” 

None of them, not even Sierra, know that their home is parallel to the capital of the elven world. None of them know that there has just been a coup, or that the prince of the elven world is now walking the city like a tourist. 

It’s foggy and cool, as San Francisco usually is. The rich kids sit down in some fancy coffee shop to decide their first moves. They know where they want to go eventually, but don’t have any sort of plan. A boy about their age with long dreadlocks and bright hazel eyes sits down next to them. They are all surprised, but happy to see him. Brian thinks he met the boy at a baseball tournament years ago. They laughed at some incompetent umpire and became instant friends the way that only ten year olds can be. Sierra thinks that she’s stood beside the boy in an engineering lab, and Clay is sure that there was a party (a boring one for adults, of course) where they ran away together from the flashing cameras and overbearing adults. 

None of them notice that his eyes flash green as he sits down. None of them notice that they’ve never met him in their lives. 

#by me #the gap years #my oc stuff #writing that *is* #The Road Trip #The High Council