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t-lostinworlds · 1 year

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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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mcufan72 · 2 months

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

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

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

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

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

Tag list:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @anukulee @fictive-sl0th @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @gruftiela @stupidthoughtsinwriting @wheredafandomat @lovingchoices14 @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @km-ffluv

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader fluff #loki #loki x female reader angst #loki x female reader smut #loki x fem!reader #Spotify

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bolontiku · 3 months

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"The Right Size"

Avengers AU - Quick Fic

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader

Posted: Jan 19th

WARNINGS: none. Fluff. Idiots.

A/N: dropping this here since it was just sitting in my drafts

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

He smiled as you pressed your hand to his, legs tangled under your soft sheets, "what are you doing?" He asked quietly, exhausted after a mission which had sucked and the only thing that had made it worth it was knowing you were waiting for him.

"Your hands are so big,” you hummed softly in response, sleep tugging at the edges of your consciousness as you lay tangled up with Steve.

He smirked, "your hands are too small." He corrected.

You grinned against him as he laced your fingers together. "I am not small" you answered, “I am a force to be reckoned with.” Steve, Steve and you had been doing this for so long now and you weren't even sure what this was, but you were not going to question that.

Steve watched as you fought valiantly against the sleep, you whined against it and he pulled you closer, feeling you sink against his bare chest, tumbling into sleep even as he kept hold of your hand. He waited a moment, calling your name softly and when he was satisfied you were asleep he carefully reached over you. The drawer sat slightly open and he pulled the small box out, the silver ring that sat inside had been there for too long, and he had to recruit Nat to get the right size…

He smiled smugly as it slid on perfectly and sat snug in its place. Plain, no stone with the inscription inside. He wondered how long it would take you to notice? As bright as you were there were a few things that seemed to slip your mind. Like the fact that he didn't date anyone else and he only had eyes for you. The fact that everyone knew the two of you were dating but he had overheard you telling Wanda there was no way he would actually be committed to you when he was Captain America and could have anyone.

It had nearly dropped him into another realm, but he had decided he would show you. There was no getting rid of him. Zero chance. You were stuck with him, even if you didn't realize it.

He had just needed to get the right size.

It took you three days.

Leave Kudos on Ao3

#the right size #steve rogers #steve x reader #qucik fic #draft dump

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tikus-library · 6 days

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"FUBAR"

Avengers AU - Chapter 10

Characters: Brock Rumlow, OC!Reaper

Posted: April 18th

WARNINGS: kissing, touching, cursing, violence, Canon violence

A/N: It's been a minute since I updated this. Life really has a way of kicking my ass so keep that in mind before yall decide to murder me... XD

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

She tasted like candy, Brock noted. Liquor tainted candy. He could get used to that, he thought, smirking against her lips. “Then make it count,” he had growled, thinking she would shove a hand into his face. He was daring her and he should have known she wouldn't back down. Instead she had paused for a second before leaning in and carefully pressing her soft lips to his. Soft and slow, it made him itch, it made him desperate, it made him NEED MORE, it made him WANT. She was already in his lap, his hand on her waist the other on her leg, he shifted her and tugged her in closer, bringing a hand up and carding it into her short green hair fingers tangling with the stands and tugging as he deepened the kiss.

#fubar #ch 10 #avengers au #brock rumlow #brock x oc!reaper

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lokidokieokie · 9 months

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Tangles Lies | Chapter #1 - Partners in Crime

Series Summary: Loki and Y/n were some of the most formidable criminals of the gang The Avengers. On a heist, the one thing they didn't plan for happened: they got caught. And what's the best way to ensure they can't testify against each other? They pretend to be married. Only one problem...they pretty much hate each other.

Based on @deity-prompts' fabulous prompt: A and B are part of a criminal group. When they’re caught, they pretend to be married so that they can’t testify against each other in court.

Pairing: Criminal!Loki Laufeyson x Criminal!Fem!Reader

Warning(s): mob!au themes, mentions of thievery, general stupidity, my bad humour, mob violence, possible gore, mild angst, possible references to death, lemme know if I forgot anything

In the sprawling city of New York, a clandestine world thrived beneath the surface of law and order. Loki, a cunning an enigmatic figure, helped rule the shadows with his silver tongue and a hint of mischief in his piercing green eyes. He was a true mastermind in the art of deception.

And then there was you--a woman of unparalleled intellect and allure, with a reputation that matched Loki's in every single way. But you were no ally; you were a rival, each of you vying for dominance in the criminal underworld.

Despite your mutual animosity, you were both members of the infamous gang The Avengers--a tight-knit group that thrived on pulling off audacious heists; heists that others could only dream of. And tonight, fate had conspired to throw you and Loki together for a mission that could solidify your status within the gang.

The target was a priceless artefact; one hidden deep within the heavily guarded confines of the city's most secure museum. The heist required extreme precision, timing, and a well-coordinated plan. You knew you couldn't do it alone, and Loki, much to your chagrin, was assigned as your mission partner.

As you stood together outside the museum, the tension between you was palpable. "This should be fun," Loki quipped, a smug smile on his face. "Working with my favourite rival, that is."

You rolled your eyes, unimpressed by his attempt at charm. "Oh, please, spare me the pleasantries," you retorted. "Let's just get this over with so I can go back to stealing things in peace!"

Loki chuckled, clearly basking in your annoyance. "As you wish, my dear adversary. Shall we proceed with our extremely cunning plan?"

With a nod, you began to outline the intricacies of the heist, exploiting each other's strengths while ensuring the keep a watchful eye on any opportunity to outdo the other. The museum's layout, security systems, and patrol schedules were meticulously discussed as you both crafted a plan that was sure to confound anyone who dared to stand in your way.

As you entered the museum, disguised in sleek black attire, the adrenaline began to surge through your veins. You exchanged a knowing glance, acknowledging the thrill of the challenge ahead.

The heist progressed flawlessly, a symphony of coordinated movements and unspoken communication. Your rivalry had turned into a delicate dance of skill and cunning, each of you anticipating the other's moves with a begrudging respect.

At one point, as you expertly bypassed a laser grid, Loki's voice danced with amusement. "Not bad, Y/n. Not bad at all. But you're still a few steps behind me!"

You shot him a glare, "We'll see about that, Laufeyson. I'm just warming up."

With a theatrical flourish, Loki retrieved a small, gleaming device from his pocket. "Let's see if you can keep up with this," he taunted, activating the device with a triumphant smirk.

To your surprise, a hidden vent opened in the ceiling above you, allowing Loki to gracefully ascend and evade the laser grid. He looked down at you, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Show off," you muttered, but the corners of your lips betrayed a hint of amusement.

Loki laughed, basking in your acknowledgement of his clever move. "Oh, come now, Y/n. Where's your sense of adventure?"

With renewed determination, you followed Loki's lead, leaping and dodging through the maze of security measures.

As you reached the heart of the museum, where the priceless artefact was displayed under bulletproof glass, you exchanged a knowing glance with Loki. This was the moment that would determine your success or failure, and you both knew it.

With a nod, Loki initiated the final phase of the plan. As the distraction unfolded on the museum's opposite side, you moved with calculated precision, slipping through the shadows and disabling the electronic barriers with ease.

The moment your fingers made contact with the glass casing, a tingling sensation coursed through you. It was as if the artefact recognised its impending liberation, and the connection sent a thrill down your spine.

But just as you were about to secure the artefact, a gut-wrenching sound echoed through the halls--an alarm had been triggered.

Your eyes widened, "Shit! We've got to go!"

Loki rolled his eyes, "You don't say? Why don't we just wait and have some tea with the police?"

"Now is not the time for your quips, you asshole," you spat.

Just as Loki was about to spit something back, you both heard the sound of footsteps. "Museum Security! Come out with your hands up!"

"Do they really think that we'd be scared of them?" Loki whispered.

"Not now, Laufeyson!"

Together, you and Loki navigated through the labyrinthine corridors, staying one step ahead of the security team that was now in hot pursuit of you both. The museum was now a maze of danger, but you both managed to move in harmony, being driven by a shared goal and an unspoken understanding.

As you burst through the museum's doors and into the night, the artefact safely concealed under Loki's coat, you exchanged a knowing glance. Despite the obstacles, you had done it--together.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, the sound of police sirens echoed in the distance, growing louder with each passing moment. You and Loki exchanged a glance of realisation--you both had been caught.

As the handcuffs came out, you couldn't help but glare at Loki; anger and adrenaline coursing through your veins. "This is all your fault," you hissed.

Loki scoffed, the corners of his lips curling into a mischievous smirk. "Oh, please. You're the one who tripped the alarm, Y/n. I was simply trying to clean up after your mess."

"This all would've gone smoothly if I wasn't partnered with you!" You shot back, glaring at him with a mix of frustration and grudging admiration.

"We can argue about your faults later," Loki said, his voice low and urgent. "Right now, we need to find a way out of here."

A/N ahh! I'm so excited for this story! I hope you guys enjoy it!

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad @dryyoursaltyoceantears @avahiddlestonstan

Please lemme know if you want to be added to this or any of my taglists!

#tangled lies au #tangled lies #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x fem!reader #loki au #criminal au #mob!au #loki mob!au #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston character #fem!reader #marvel #marvel fanfic

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irelandking · 9 months

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avenger bucky x regular reader fic recs

bucky barnes x reader

❤️ = fluff 😔 = angst 🔥 = smut 📱 = social media au

multiparts/series:

the shot heard round the tower - @pellucid-constellations

Part 2: Unwarranted Weakness You just want to know if Bucky has feelings for you. Bucky just wants you to be okay. ❤️😔

flowers bloom - @teamatsumu

soulmate au, Whenever someone is injured, flowers bloom on their soulmate at the area of the wound. She is born with flowers around her entire left shoulder. ❤️

hero for hire - @delicatelyherdreams

Tired of constantly being sat on the sidelines for missions, Bucky Barnes decides that he’s going to do his own hero work and offer his services to the public as a freelance “hero for hire.” He expects to be asked to rescue cats from trees or help little old ladies cross the street, but he doesn’t expect to get tangled up in your life. He definitely doesn’t expect to fall for you either. But, when you’re a hero for hire, you’ve gotta see the mission through ❤️😔

under oath - @ugh-supersoldiers

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all. 😔🔥

little boy blue - @samingtonwilson

Next Parts: Little Bo Peep, Sticks and Stones, A was an Apple Pie steve coaxes bucky to go on one of his classroom visits ❤️

wordpeddler - @heli0s-writes

An online petition for the Avengers to be interviewed turns into a series of misadventures with the so-called wordpeddler. ❤️📱

sure, jan - @buckysmischief

While writing your college history paper on WWII, you decide to tweet your favorite avengers, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, for help. They were also the most qualified. It’s not like they would actually reply, right? ❤️📱

must've been the wind - @pies-writes-and-more

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 Bucky helps reader out of an abusive situation 😔

play pretend - @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

part 2 you ask bucky to pretend to be your boyfriend in a bar ❤️🔥

cookies, kisses, and such - @stevebabey

part 2: candlelight and cuddles bucky moves in next door to you and you bake him cookies ❤️

sunrise - @wkemeup

After an explosion takes his arm and his only sense of belonging, Bucky is discharged from active duty and sent back to civilian life. Left with a storm of unchecked guilt, Bucky is content to live out the rest of his days in the hollow comfort of the dark. This is, until Sam drags him down to the local VA and he meetsyou. (Modern AU) parings: bucky x reader (veteran!bucky x librarian!reader) ❤️🔥

uncle buck - @enchantedbarnes

You take your nephew to a Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson Q&A event. The mischievous 8-year-old asks if he can get in line to ask a question. Against your better judgement you agree and let him go up by himself. ❤️

oh no, that's bad - @andyl394

You’re a college student, you’re mad angry, Bucky ruins your paper, that’s not good is it? ❤️📱

bucky's bistro dates - @wonderlandmind4

A Bistro owner is witness to Bucky Barnes bad dates. ❤️

café crema - @wonderlandmind4

The first time was an accident. The second time was coincidence. The third time is just unlucky. The fourth time is getting out of hand and the fifth may or may not be with intent. Otherwise known as The One Where He Spills Her Coffee. ❤️🔥

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader

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good-beanswrites · 5 months

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LCSYS ask again(undercover asker here hiiiiiaufhghghgn)thank you for responding!!!! ilovfe seeing your ideas theyre such good fuel in between trials❤️❤️

i was wondering how th prisoners would react to es’ usage of violence, like some of the younger prisoners complaining about it while the older are concerned because Hello Where did that stem from???? you cant tell me es’ “phew, i feel so much better” after hitting shidou didn’t send his mind racing a million miles per minute

ALSO curious about YONAH………… similar to how red’s violence towards es was scripted, was kotoko’s monologue about es being imperfect Also scripted, or was it on her own? yonah is probably my favourite voice drama of all time and I’m curious about how it would be interpreted in this au 🫶

Ah hello again! Thank you so much for reaching out -- every time I think I've covered everything you guys hit me with a new insane detail that makes my brain go brrrrr >:3

Because OMG I spent so much time thinking of the faked violence, I don't know why I never put as much attention on the flipside! I love the idea of Jackalope assuring them, "there will be no physical punishments. We'll talk about restraints but that's all fake. We'll make up injuries between trials but that's all fake. You don't have to worry about any real pain." And then this 15yo strolls up, interrogation one, ready to smack someone😅😅😅

Seriously though, I think it would come as a pretty big surprise to the group. They knew it was a possibility, but didn't think Es was that likely to attack, since they've made a few comments about being against violent punishments. Haruka comes back to mention the slap, and Yuno follows their instructions and says she also suffered violence, and the group is Shocked. I think it would just kill Fuuta that he wasn't allowed to hit back and avenge the others. He probably has the most complaints about the situation (and is insanely relieved that he get by in his own interrogation.) In a feeble attempt to get back at Es and make them feel bad, he encourages Muu to cry and make a big show about being afraid of them. Muu is frightened enough that it doesn't take much persuasion... I think Kotoko and unfortunately Amane wouldn't mind the threat, they both have lives in which authority showing power isn't out of place (and maybe Haruka?). Mahiru, too, thinks it's just the way a prison guard can run their prison if they want, though she's determined her charm will keep things running pleasantly.

Kazui reaches out asap* to question the legality of the experiment, since they're allowing children to get hit, even if by other children. There's a tangle of signatures and consent from everyone involved so it's okay, but the whole thing still rubs him the wrong way. He knew the experiment was a bit shady, but he(Though, this does make his first vd kind of funny -- instead of actually talking through his theories on the prison, now it feels like he's just egging Es on to see if they'll actually hit him...)

And I really like that idea that Shidou's dad instincts kick in (or maybe it's doctor instincts)! He'd understand if it was a child trying to play the role of an intimidating adult, but the way Es is doing things, the things they're saying, it all points to something deeper going on in Es' head. I can see him sitting down with the others and Jackalope to discuss. Of course Milgram gives him very little to work with, but this still kickstarts everyone's efforts to make sure Es is also taken care of post-Milgram.

*I just realized I'm still a bit fuzzy on communication during the trials. Jackalope can definitely get information to the prisoners (most commonly the 'voices' they're supposed to be hearing based on Es' notes, but also in case of emergency changes or things). I was picturing the prisoners unable to communicate outward until the trial ends, as it builds up the feeling of isolation and imprisonment. The issue is, I feel like Jackalope would want to keep that line open in case the prisoners had questions/issues with the experiment that affected their acting. So idk if the prisoners voice these concerns about Es mid-trial or they're forced to wait. I'll get back to you on that, hm

And Yonah!!

I wasn't avoiding spoilers, I actively looked for snippets here and there, but it was this ask that finally motivated me to sit down and watch it through -- and I'm SO GLAD I DID 👀 It's really well-written and wonderfully acted!! I'm floored with the whole thing omg

I really like the idea that the Milgram team instructed Kotoko to mention Es' imperfection to rattle them a bit, but left the specifics to her. Jackalope thought she'd just make some quick comment, and does a double take when he listens in on the interrogation and realizes she has a lot to say on Es and the way Milgram is run.

Jacklope told her to be harsh with Es, and she thought that was no problem at all. She felt those opinions strongly and wasn't going to go easy on the criticism just because they were a kid. She goes into the interrogation ready to stay completely put-together... and then surprises everyone and herself when Es' distress moves her to pull them into a tight hug and tell them everything's going to be alright ;---;

#milgram #es #ill have to peek back through the material but i definitely remember es saying they dont have to worry about violence #and also openly condemning kotoko and other violent reactions #so the sudden switch would get their gears turning 👀#operation 'save es from whatever crap is going on' begins as early as t1 #more in line with canon than the au but capri had a thorough post about es' attacks and stuff with physical touch -- maybe i go peek at tha #i think theres more angst if the prisoners cant communicate with Anyone during the trials -- theyre completely sealed off #but i feel like it may cause more problems than its worth... but if its just a story i can just write those logistic problems away lol...#thank you for the ask!! i also need fuel between such long breaks of content so it makes me so happy to chat about this :D #and i appreciate the little nudge to watch yonah -- i can def see why its your favorite omg #that last moment i mentioned is SO important to me -- it reveals a huge part of kotoko that i think even she doesnt fully realize ;-;#tw child abuse #yonah spoilers #lights camera sing your sins

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p-taryn-dactyl · 2 years

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Kate Bishop x Reader! Maximoff. Reader was an experiment with Wanda and Pietro and she has the power to manipulate elements, but reader didn't escape with them when the Avengers attack a Hydra base they discover you're alive.

a/n: hi! I’m sorry this is so late but i tried my best! Thanks for the request! warning(s): hydra; timeline issues; i don’t really know how good i can write the maximoff siblings so I apologize if anyone is ooc; use of google translate, scandalous i know word count: 1.3k tag list: @coolbeans32 pairing(s): Kate bishop x fem!Maximoff!reader; wanda x sister!reader; pietro x sister!reader (even though he’s, uh, ded) ( A/N: just so everyone knows i write, or at least do my best, to represent Wanda and Pietro as Romani Jewish as that is their ethnicity in the comics, so for this prompt, I’m sorry, but i made it to where Y/N was taken by hydra bc of her power, still keeping the discovery of her being alive though. Idk how it works with age of ultron but in this AU Wanda and Pietro never joined hydra. I’m sorry if this is disappointing to anyone but this is important to me.)

Coming Home

Nothing made sense anymore. Not after the long nights spent in a cage, only ever leaving so the scientists could run tests. You didn’t know how long it had been. Day, months, years, you had no clue. Time faded into irrelevance with each passing second.

You sat in the corner of your cell, your hand pressed flat against the metal floor, willing it to bend. As per usual, you were expecting nothing to happen. But today, the walls shook. You shot upward, standing on your feet in an instant. After a few seconds, you realized you weren't the cause of the shaking. Someone was attacking the base.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

With every blast of power she sent at the walls, Wanda couldn't shake the feeling gripping at her gut. Like something was going to happen, something important. She landed on the ground, her mind searching out, reaching for someone she knew couldn't possibly be there. The sound of repulsor blasts startled her out of concentration.

"Hey Red you good?" Tony asked, stepping over the fallen Hydra agent he had blasted. Wanda nodded, not convincingly.

"There's a heat signature a few halls down. I sent the small hawk to go check it out but, I thought you should know."

Wanda scrunched her eyebrows, confused. Without elaboration, Tony flew off into the air to fight the war drones that were causing havoc on the other side of the base. Wanda shook her head at Iron Man’s antics but made her way to the location Tony had pinged her a second after he left.

—————————————————————————————————

Your prison walls were crumbling as you punched at the force field keeping you caged in. The down side of your powers. You screamed in frustration and fear as other tremor went through the hall, threatening the foundations. Taking a step back, you ran your fingers through your tangled hair, tears forming in your eyes. But before they could fall, a voice spoke out.

“Hey, do you need help? Wait, that was dumb, sorry, lemme just-”

You turned towards the voice, where a girl about your age stood, a purple archers suit standing out against the grey walls of your prison. She cocked an arrow and fear shot through your spine. Was she about to shoot you? Is this how you die? The archer must’ve seen the conflict in your eyes because she was quick to explain.

“Oh no, no, no! Um, this arrow has a negative electric charge which should cancel out the positive charges running through the field.”

She continued after you stared at her, confused.

“It’s going to take the field down. I’m here to help!” She straightened her back at the last part, attempting to make herself look heroic. She took a step forward, into a stream of light, and you could properly see her. Your eyes widened when you saw the concentration on her face, your heart skipping a beat. Internally, you scolded yourself.

Y/N, you will not develop a crush on the first girl you see!

After the archer shot her arrow, eliminating your containment, she did a little victory dance and you found the warning you gave yourself fading away.

Hesitantly, you stepped out of your cell, taking a deep breath once you felt the call of the earth and the wind. Her arrow must’ve knocked out the power dampeners around your cell. She held out a hand.

“I’m Kate Bishop,” she smiled at you and you felt warmth gather on your cheeks. You took a step forward but stumbled over debris, causing her to catch you.

“Y/N,” you said, stuttering out your name, “Y/N Maximoff.”

Kate’s eyebrows rose in recognition, a blush on her cheeks as well. A few moments passed, silence stretching between you. After the base shook again, Kate snapped out of it, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. Now you were very flustered.

You watched as she shot an arrow above you, into a hole in the ceiling.

“The exits on this floor caved in, this is the only way out.” With that, you felt yourself lifting in the air. Yelping, you wrapped your arms around Kates neck, the young archers eyes widening as a blush erupted on her cheeks.

Once you were on the next level, you realized how close you were to Kate, giggling awkwardly as you scooted away from her. You were about to thank the archer when a voice spoke out.

“Y/N?” The voice was shaky with fear but you would recognize it anywhere. Spinning around, you were met with the sight of your sister, hovering, her dark brown hair forming a halo around her. You felt her magic feel around your mind, not intrusive, but checking to see if this wasn’t a trick. With a cry, she lowered to the ground and ran to you, wrapping her arms around you. You returned the hug, tears streaming down your face.

“oh moja sestro,” Wanda cried over and over, leaning back to look at you. Her eyes hardened once she saw your state, bruises covering your body.

“I’m going to kill them.” She growled out, not noticing Kate awkwardly standing behind you, taking great interest in the floor. You shook your head, something dark forming in your mind.

“Don’t take that honor from me.”

Wanda chuckled a bit before hesitantly letting you go, noticing Kate.

Kate waved before heading off to where the rest of the team was. Wanda raised an eyebrow before turning towards you, her eyes widening playfully when she saw you watching Kate leave, a blush staining your cheeks. She bumped your shoulder with hers, making you glare at her.

“ućuti.” You mumbled, walking away as Wanda laughed.

Once you were outside the base, you saw Kate and the Avengers all lined up, waiting for you. Wanda walked out behind you.

“Well then, let’s send these fascists to hell.” Tony Stark said, raising his arm, where a missile would fly out to destroy the place you were imprisoned in for years. While you were still getting over the fact the Iron Man was talking to you and the fact you were standing with the Avengers, you processed what he said.

“Wait!” You called out, making the genius pause, opening his faceplate.

“Do you not want me to? ‘Cause I won’t. Your sister scares me.” He muttered the last part, making you laugh a little. You shook your head.

“I didn’t say that.”

Captain America sent you a confused look, practically scratching his head.

You faced the base, closing your eyes in concentration. With a roar, the earth below you came alive, turning rocks into mud with the amount of force you were sending out. In a matter of seconds, the base was completely destroyed. You sent a gust of wind to keep the dust and debris from getting in your eyes. Finally, you called on water from the ground to rise. Soon, where the Hydra base once stood, was a glistening clear lake, it’s water reflecting the sun peacefully.

“Okay, that was both terrifying and awesome at the same time. I’mma make you a suit.” Tony seemed to talk to himself before speaking to the group.

“Alright, back to the ship.”

As you walked with the group, Kate totally subtle, migrated over to you.

“So…elemental control huh?”

You laughed at her awkwardness, playfully bumping her shoulder. You nodded.

“So…archery huh?”

Kate laughed at your response, brushing hair behind her ear. You both talked and laughed on the way back to the jet, your mutual crushes growing.

Wanda trailed behind you, along with Natasha. The two shared a look before smiling.

She was worried about you, of course she was, you were captured, probably tortured for years, but looking at the scene in front of her, watching you and Kate flirt, she knew you would be okay.

a/n: thank you for reading! I’m sorry if this is a let down but i am up to a second part of this if anyone is interested!! (I probably will write one bc i want to dive into the sisterly dynamic between Wanda and Y/N and the romantic relationship between Y/N and Kate) have a great day/night!!

#kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x fem!reader #kate bishop x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximov #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x sister!reader #Maximoff!reader #Maximov!reader #Sorry there wasn’t that much interaction between Y/N and the other avengers #I just love Tony so that’s why he spoke alot #And because i feel like i know his character better #Anyways #my writing

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midnight-raven · 2 years

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Rise of the Brave Tangled Frozen Dragons: Avengers Family AU - Pt 1

Original Post

Elsa & Jackson Frost

In the farthest reach of space, a vast, magical forest was coated by a large cloudy mist, to conceal the family home within the forest. After the events of New York, Loki Laufeyson had used the Tesseract to escape to the farthest edge of the universe. Now, Loki lives out his days as a father to his two children; Elsa and Jack Frost.

Rapunzel Thordottir

Throughout the Nine Realms, there’s the legend of the Sundrop. Long ago, a single drop of sunlight had landed on the grounds of Asgard, and from the sundrop, a baby girl was born. The girl was gifted with long golden hair that was indestructible and held healing abilities. After finding the young girl, Thor decide to raise Rapunzel as his own.

Merida DunBroch

The DunBrochs were a diplomatic family, consisting of Fergus, Eleanor, and their young daughter, Merida. One evening, a physically-enhanced crime-boss known as Mor’du, had broken into their home, Merida was the only survivor. When SHIELD investigated the crime scene, Agent Barton was there as well, and met the young girl. Knowing Merida needed to be hidden from Mor’du, Barton took the young girl under his wings and to someday help her find justice for her parents.

Anna Carter-Roger

All her life, Anna looked up to her great-aunt; Agent Peggy Carter, listening eagerly to her stories and dreaming of someday being a hero just like she was. On the day of Auntie Peggy’s passing, Anna had been assigned a very special mission; to watch over Steve Rogers, Aunt Peggy’s special friend.

Harold ‘Hiccup’ Lang

Growing up, Hiccup had always been different than the other kids in his neighborhood. Not everyone was over the fact that his dad was a thief, or that his sister mispronounced his name and the nickname stuck. So most days, Hiccup spent in the garage tinkering with his motorcycle and other small inventions. While his father has a suit that can shrink, Hiccup invented a suit that can make him fly.

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brooklynislandgirl · 4 months

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@lokitheliesmith {{xx}}

"How could I forget?" Maybe the answer comes too quick on the heels of xer own words, but they are true just the same. She tries to make it a point every day to bring some beauty or joy to this little family of hers, a continual appreciate of what Loki and Hela have given her. She will never be able to truly repay what she sees as neither burden nor debt, but a gift of hope, of belonging. She smiles at the wish for the new year. In her heart this is much like Mabon, the second harvest; the first dawning of new year had happened near Hela's birthday, on Samhain. It strikes her just then, the coincidence between the dates, but she keeps that to herself. The weight of xer arm is comforting. Beth's eyes close as much as they ever do, leaving a sliver of space between the tiers of her lashes. A hold-over from those parts of her which were never human. "As am I," she says, in every bit the same way. Today she will not let sorrow knock on their door. She will not let the possibility of being caught burden Loki's almost heavy heart. "Have you anything you wish to do, or is watching the snow enough to content you. I was thinking about inviting Hela to come outside and build a snow-castle, and I think it would be fun for you, too."

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 9 months

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Summer Fic Week 2023

In two weeks I'm going to be having a little summer celebration where I post a fic every day for a week. Here's a little preview of what I'm planning:

Monday 21st - Going Down Swinging - Enemies to lovers with Pietro Maximoff (trapped in an elevator during a heatwave). Smut. 5.4k words.

Tuesday 22nd - Tangled Up in You - Steve Harrington x reader, camping trip with the fruity four (sharing a tent). Fluff. 2.2k words.

Wednesday 23rd - Retracing the Steps That We Took - One-shot in my dad!Colin Zabel series (Even If It All Comes Crashing Down). Fluff. 2.7k words.

Thursday 24th - The Things I Wanted Most - Sequel to I'll Paint You Wings (Chrissy x Reader x Eddie) at a carnival. Fluff. 2.6k words.

Friday 25th - Tracing Every Part of You - Pietro Maximoff no powers college AU (a day at the lake with the Avengers). Fluff. 3.7k words.

Saturday 26th - Find Your Own Way Back Home - Railed in a sundress by Dmitri Antonov. Hopper!Reader. Smut. 1.8k words.

Sunday 27th - Take Back What You Took - Sequel to Leave Me In The Deep End (Pietro Maximoff). Staff party at the resort. Smut. 3k words.

Let me know if you want to be added to any taglists.

#pietro maximoff x reader #steve harrington x reader #colin zabel x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader x eddie munson #dmitri antonov x reader #summer fic week 2023

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sparkagrace · 1 year

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Welcome to my fic masterlist! Most fics are Steve x Bucky but listed if they're not. Everything is on my ao3 and divided up into series and standalones.

series

lane lines series ● complete sports au, olympics, swimming, rivals to lovers

lane lines ▪ mature | 132k | complete

lumiere ▪ mature | 5k | one-shot

new traditions ▪ mature | 6k | one-shot

treading water ▪ mature | 275k | complete

al, pal and alpine series ● ongoing kid fic, canon div, established relationship, domestic fluff

the question ▪ gen | 3k | one-shot

the pancakes ▪ teen | 7k | one-shot

ballet shoes ▪ teen | 3k | one-shot

post-match ▪ teen | 4.8k | one-shot

london calling ▪ teen | 11k | complete

mouth bones ▪ teen | 4.3k | one-shot

flower girl ▪ teen | 3k | one-shot

fire escape ▪ teen | 6k | one-shot

the proposals ▪ gen | 4k | one-shot

last train home series ● complete modern au, fluff, slice of life, established relationship

last train home ▪ gen | 1k | one-shot

found a place to fit ▪ teen | 4k | one-shot

the third day in january ▪ teen | 5k | one shot

parental advisory ▪ teen | 5k | one-shot

six months and counting ▪ teen | 5.7k | one-shot

his, his and theirs ▪ teen | 3.7k | one-shot

sunday lunch ▪ teen | 4.5k | one-shot

dial 'u' for uncles ▪ teen | 7.5k | one-shot

off track ▪ teen | 5.9k | one-shot

standalones

coffee stains ▪ teen | 6k | one-shot shrunkyclunks, post-avengers (2012), meet-ugly

off the record ▪ mature | 37k | complete shrunkyclunks, post-avengers (2012), reporter!bucky barnes

be kind, rewind ▪ mature | 47k | complete shrunkyclunks, 90s au, becca barnes

fifteen-love ▪ teen | 5k | one-shot au, tennispro!steve, actor!bucky, meet-ugly

rough edges ▪ mature | 33k | complete sports au, ice dancing, rivals, road trip

the white wolf of wall street ▪ teen | 2.5k | one-shot au, werewolf!bucky, stock market

nobody else ▪ teen | 5k | one-shot pre-serum steve, unrequited love, 1940s

no church in the wild ▪ teen | 3k | one-shot pre-serum steve, captain america bucky, winter soldier sam

i’ll take your roses (if you cut off the thorns) ▪ teen | 5k | one-shot runaway groom, florist au, pre-serum steve

Steve Rogers, PA ▪ teen | wip hunkyclinks, personal assistant steve, winter soldier bucky

comic books and coffee cups ▪ teen | 4.7k | one-shot modern au, coming out, fluff

non-steve x bucky

so deck the halls (trim those trees) ▪ teen | 5k | one-shot bucky & natasha & clint, roommates, modern au, christmas

evanstan

haylofts & cashmere ▪ mature | 10k | one-shot au, meet ugly, farm life, mechanic!chris, ceo!seb

tangled up ▪ teen | 9.5k | one-shot spiders, 5+1, friends to lovers

misc. masterlists

tumblr ficlets

stuckybingo masterlist

#stucky fanfiction #stevebucky #stucky fic #steve x bucky #fic masterlist #my fic #masterlist

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lcvernat · 2 years

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That Stupid Red String Part 3 | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: You used to believe that you would never find your soulmate, but you did, and you couldn't be happier. Natasha Romanoff makes you the happiest person in the universe, and you just can't seem to comprehend how you had gotten so lucky.

AKA you and Natasha being the cutest soulmates ever for an entire fic.

Word Count: 6.6k

Content Warnings: soulmate au, gn!reader, so so so so much fluff it's disgusting, very brief mention of the red room/nat's past, brief mention of anxiety, definitely not canon compliant

A/N: you asked for it, i delivered. i am very sorry this took so long but either way i hope you enjoy this absolutely tooth-rotting, sickeningly sweet, bundle of fluff fic. i can't do summaries for the life of me tbh but this is literally all fun and fluff. also if you're reading my ongoing series 'our tainted love', consider this my apology in advance for putting you all through a lot of angst in that series. comments and reblogs mean a lot to me so please tell me if you've enjoyed this!

The morning after confessing your love for Natasha Romanoff, you had woken up beside her, her limbs tangled with yours. Now, you'd been waking up like that for the past six months, and it still didn't feel real to you. Everything about it was so surreal. From actually finding your soulmate, to your soulmate being Natasha Romanoff and her miraculously reciprocating your feelings? You still couldn't comprehend how this was now your life. For the first two months of your relationship, you had asked Kya to pinch you multiple times because you truly don't know how you got so lucky.

It wasn't even the fact that Black Widow was your soulmate, you didn't care about that. You didn't care about her fancy title or her fancy job, all you cared about was the real Natasha. All you wanted to know was the real her, not the facade she put on for the public. You wanted to know the Natasha she was around the people she loved and trusted, the Natasha who didn't put on a mask, the Natasha who wasn't afraid to show her emotions. It had took her a while to truly open up to you, but you didn't mind. You were patient with her and always would be. Even now, six months into your relationship, you didn't know every side of Natasha. There were still parts of herself that she kept hidden from you, but you weren't worried about that. She'd show you every side of her when she was ready and you would wait years until that time if you had to.

"What are you thinking about?" Natasha whispered into your ear, her arm wrapped around your shoulder as you two sat together on the couch in the Avenger's Tower. It was a Friday, which meant it was the Avengers weekly movie night. Initially you had felt wrong about attending because all you really were was a doctor in the MedBay, not an Avenger, but you just couldn't resist Natasha as she pouted and pleaded with you to attend it all those months ago. Now you attended it every week.

"Just thinking about the fact that I had to have saved an entire world or something in my past life to get this lucky," you whispered back, smirking as you noticed the blush making it's way onto the redhead's face.

As you placed a quick kiss on her cheek you heard Tony dramatically gag, "That's disgusting. Get a room you two,"

Natasha rolled her eyes as she flipped Tony the bird, "You don't see us complaining when you're being all lovey-dovey with Pepper."

The man merely rolled his eyes, brushing Natasha off with a wave of his hand as he turned his attention back to the movie playing on the TV, some horror movie that Sam had suggested (you're not sure why he had suggested it though, considering a glance at the man showed him with his head buried into a pillow and his eyes squeezed tightly shut).

Natasha's head moved to lay on your shoulder as you turned your attention back to the movie.

An hour later and the credits started rolling. Sam visibly deflated, putting the cushion back in it's place as he stretched. "Well, that was a wonderful movie, wasn't it?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, "You've had your head buried in the pillow for the entire movie."

There was a collective chuckle from everyone as Sam rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You're all lame. I'm heading to bed."

"Wanna head to bed too?" You asked Natasha, silence being your only answer. You look down at her confused until you noticed her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling slowly. A smile made its way onto your face at the sight of her peacefully sleeping. You softly kissed her forehead, being careful not to wake her.

Tony walked past, and you were half expecting a snarky remark from him, but instead he said something that surprised you a lot, "You know, I don't think I've ever saw Natasha as happy as she's been since she's met you. You make her really happy, Y/N," he walked away before you could reply, leaving you there to process the bombshell he had just dropped.

A warm, fuzzy feeling runs through you, settling deep into your bones and every crevice of your body, your heart full of love and adoration for the redhead currently asleep on you. Deciding that you should both head to bed now, you very carefully untangle yourself from Natasha, standing up and stretching your arms before you place one arm under her knees and the other around her waist. You lift her up very carefully, hoping you don't wake her since she looks so peaceful sleeping and you don't want to disturb her. She stirs but fortunately, doesn't wake.

You successfully make it back to your shared room (it used to be Natasha's but when you two had finally started dating, she insisted you move in with her so you had moved all your things into her room and you now permanently reside in the tower) without waking up Natasha. You don't know how she hasn't woken up yet, since she's always so aware of her surroundings and the littlest noise could wake her up, but you're grateful either way.

Pulling the covers back, you gently set her down onto the bed before pulling the covers back over her. Kissing her forehead you mutter, "'Night, Natty," before moving to your side of the bed and lying down, quickly falling asleep.

"Be careful, okay?" You wrap your arms around Natasha's waist, placing your chin on her shoulder. She had to go on a mission with the team, which was no surprise considering it was her job, but it still left you with a pit of worry in your stomach every time she had to leave.

She turns around in your arms, forcing you to move your head. She wraps her arms around your neck and places a quick kiss on your lips, "I'm always careful,"

You raise an eyebrow, "Need me to remind you of how I found out you were my soulmate?" There was a hint of amusement in your voice as Natasha scoffs playfully.

"That was one time."

"Mhm, okay, and how about the other countless times? I felt every single one."

It used to be a touchy subject every time you brought it up and you knew Natasha still felt guilty about the years of pain you had to endure because of her, but you reminded her every single time that it wasn't her fault. She had started to believe that, just a bit. When she had eventually trusted you enough to tell you tiny snippets of her childhood, you had felt so many different emotions. Sadness for the pain she had endured and the childhood she had never got to experience, an overwhelming sense of protectiveness for her and also so, so much anger directed towards Dreykov. Natasha telling you that she had killed him herself brought comfort to you though. At least she had gotten revenge in the end.

Natasha broke you out of your train of thought by leaning her forehead against yours, "I'm sorry," she whispered gently, her breath fanning your face.

You roll your eyes but there's no hostility in the gesture, "I've told you countless times that it was fine. It wasn't your fault, angel. It's okay,"

She blushes at the pet name you've started calling her. You two lapse into silence for a couple of minutes, content in basking in each other's warmth. Natasha breaks the silence after a while, "You know I really gotta get going,"

"Do you though?"

She huffs out a laugh, "Unfortunately yes. I'll be back before you know it, promise,"

You admit defeat by nodding, "I guess I need to go down to the MedBay and get ready for your return then. And you better not be one of the people I need to patch up,"

Natasha rolls her eyes but there's still a soft smile on her face as she moves away from you. You grab her wrist and pull her back to kiss her once more.

She kisses you back quickly before laughing and moving away, "I really need to go, detka. Stop being so cute."

You huff, crossing your arms and pouting, "Fine. Go. Save the world or whatever. I'll be waiting to shower you with kisses when you come back."

Her laughter echoes off the walls of your shared room before she finally walks out to head to the Quinjet before Steve hunts her down and yells at her. You know you should be heading to the MedBay to make sure everything is ready in case any of the team gets injured on the mission, but you're rooted to the spot as you stare at the closed door that Natasha had just walked out of.

You are undoubtedly, hopelessly in love with Natasha Romanoff. You've known it for a while now. You're pretty sure you fell in love with her as soon as you set eyes on her, that fateful day at the Avenger's Event. When she had smirked at you, when she was so gentle and loving with Lillian, how could you not fall in love with her? Even if she wasn't your soulmate, you're 100% certain the outcome would've been the same.

You would've fallen in love with her either way, it was simply inevitable.

Thankfully, none of the team had returned from the mission severely injured. Sure, they were bruised and tired but that was nothing an icepack and some rest wouldn't fix. Honestly, you were always relieved when they came back mostly unharmed because having to see the team in pain or bleeding out was never an enjoyable experience, even if they were good sports and always tried to crack a joke as you stitched them up.

"Told you I'd be careful," Natasha smiled at you, currently lying on the bed wearing an old t-shirt of yours that she'd stolen at some point and a pair of shorts.

Taking your shirt off, you throw it at her (she lets it hit her square in the face even though she could've easily dodged it) before changing into some comfortable clothes and falling into bed beside her.

"I have a question," Natasha says.

"Shoot," you reply before grabbing her and pulling her on top of you.

A surprised giggle escapes her, her elbows resting on either side of your face as she leans above you. You lean up to kiss her as strands of auburn hair tickle your cheeks.

"Okay, I have to actually ask you something," Natasha pulls away reluctantly.

"Go ahead,"

"How would you feel about finally meeting my parents and sister?"

You splutter, shocked by how bluntly she had asked that sort of question. Meeting your soulmate's parents was a big thing. It was massive. Your soulmate is the person the universe has destined you to be with, who you're meant to be spending the rest of your life with. If your soulmate's parents don't like you well, then that's kind of awkward.

And to make the pressure worse, Natasha's family is far from normal. You haven't met Melina or Alexei yet, but Natasha has told you a few stories about them and you can't help but feel incredibly intimidated by them. Yelena you've only spoken to once, and it was through FaceTime. It was also accidental. You were unaware that Natasha was calling her and you had walked into the kitchen to grab a snack only to find the redhead on FaceTime with her sister. You'd tried to sneakily make your way back out, but somehow Yelena had heard you and had insisted she talk to you because she's 'heard so much about you'.

The blonde seemed nice from the five minute conversation you had with her, but you were also shitting yourself throughout the entirety of it because you really did not want to get on the bad side of a trained assassin and Yelena struck you as the very overprotective type. She'd said to you the clique, "If you hurt her, I'll kill you," line, but you had an inkling she wasn't joking about the killing part.

So, to put it in very simple terms: the thought of meeting Natasha's family in person was terrifying.

"Y/N?" Nat poked your cheek and you realized you'd been lost in thought, failing to answer her question.

You cleared your throat, "How do I feel about meeting a family of trained assassins who would literally hunt me down and kill me if I ever dared to hurt you? Hm, let me think,"

Natasha rolled her eyes, rolling off of you to lay beside you, "Oh come on, they love you,"

You turn on your side to face her, "They don't know me,"

"I've told them plenty of stories about you,"

The side of your mouth quirks up, "And were these all very flattering stories?"

A breathy laugh escapes her, "You're insufferable. But yes, they were," her gaze softens as she stares at you, "trust me, Y/N, they'll love you. Anyone would be insane not to love you," she reaches a hand out to cup your cheek and you lean into her touch.

"Okay," you agree finally, "I'll meet them. What's the worst that could happen?"

Your words cause a massive smile to take over Natasha's face, causing you to smile too. "Exactly," she moves closer to you and places a kiss on the tip of your nose, "thank you for agreeing," she whispers.

"Anything for you, my love."

You were going to throw up.

Staring in the mirror, looking at the outfit you had chosen to don for this occasion, you were fairly certain you were going to throw up. Meeting your girlfriend's parents was one thing, meeting your soulmate's parents was something else entirely and a hell of a lot more nerve-wracking. At least Kya had sent you a good luck message and she had reassured you that you'd be fine. You prayed she was right.

Natasha comes up behind you as you anxiously fiddle with your fingers. She wraps her arms around you, moving her hands down to grab ahold of yours to stop your fiddling.

"You look amazing," she murmurs into your ear, "don't worry."

"It's not the way I'm dressed that I'm worried about," you chuckle nervously.

She sighs before turning you around in her arms so you're facing her, "They'll love you, Y/N."

"I'm going to throw up."

"No you won't."

"No, I'm pretty sure I will."

Your stomach is really not on your side today, the constant somersaults it's doing really not helping the anxiety you're already feeling. Natasha holding you does help to ease your worries a tiny bit though.

She kisses you reassuringly, "You'll be fine, promise. But we really do need to get going or else we're going to be late."

You nod, "Yeah, I really don't wanna be late. That'd make me feel even more nervous."

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself. It's not that big of a deal, you'll be fine. You've done more nerve-wracking things than a simple dinner with your soulmate's parents. It'll be fine.

On the drive to Melina and Alexei's house, you found yourself slowly growing less and less nervous. Especially with the reassuring presence of Natasha beside you. She'd told you while she was driving that even though Melina has a house in Russia, and they had bought the house that they spent 5 years in in Ohio, they had also insisted on buying a house in New York so 'they could be closer to their daughter to make sure she isn't getting into any trouble'. That had made you laugh, and you had laughed even harder when Natasha had sent an annoyed glance your way.

You finally arrived at their house, and you were eternally grateful that your stomach had miraculously stopped doing somersaults. Natasha reached over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze before you got out of the car and made your way to the front door.

The redhead's knock was instantly followed by a very enthusiastic barking on the other side. "That would be Fanny," Natasha chuckles.

"I'll get it, mama!" You hear the slightly muffled yet familiar voice call accompanied by some shuffling on the other side of the door, a "Get out of the way, Fanny," and seconds later the door swung open and you were greeted by Yelena, a massive smile on her face as she held onto Fanny's collar to prevent her from making a run for it.

"Come in, come in," She ushers you both in and closes the door behind you, letting go of Fanny's collar as the dog instantly makes her way over to you, jumping up on her hind legs and wagging her tail.

"Hi," you smile at the dog before petting it.

Yelena gives her sister a hug, "How have you been?"

Natasha returns the hug, "Same old, same old. Saving the world and all that."

You turn to Natasha as Fanny starts to sniff your shoes, "Why have I been categorized as 'same old'? I'm offended."

Before she can respond to your quip some more footsteps are heard down the hall, "Natasha! Come here, come here!" Melina walks down the corridor and engulfs her daughter in a massive hug.

Melina turns to you then and you smile nervously, "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Vostokoff,"

"Y/N!" The woman smiles at you brightly before engulfing you in a hug too, "It's so great to finally meet you. We've had our ears talked off about you by Natasha. And please, call me Melina."

You look at the redhead who blushes and turns away, suddenly finding Fanny very interesting.

"Is the famous Y/N finally here?" A booming voice calls from what you think is the kitchen, and seconds later a bulky man comes into view. "Aha! So it is!" He says once his eyes land on you.

"Dad-" Natasha starts, exasperated, but is cut off by Alexei, who shushes her and makes his way over to you. He wraps his arms around you, giving you a bear hug and you're pretty sure you just heard at least 2 ribs crack. He lets go of you and pats your back with so much force that you can't help but stumble forward.

"It's so great to finally be able to meet you! Natasha has said so-"

"Mama has already mentioned that," Natasha's face has turned as red as her hair and you can't help but snort even as she turns to you and gives you a death glare. You reach forward and squeeze her hand.

"Okay, let's all move to the kitchen instead of taking up room here," Melina ushers all five of you, including Fanny, into the kitchen, and the instant you walk into the place, the delicious aroma of food makes your mouth water and your stomach rumble.

"The food is nearly ready and the table's been set, so make yourself at home," Melina smiles warmly at you before heading over to the oven to most likely check on the food.

You, Natasha, Alexei and Yelena make your way over to the table to sit down, Fanny trailing behind you. The dog makes its way under the table, her fur tickling your legs as she walks past you.

"So," Alexei starts, his hands joined in front of him as he leans over the table to stare at you, "how have you been treating my daughter?"

"Um," you start, feeling very much like you're being interrogated right now, "your daughter is an amazing human being, and I've treated her as best as I possibly can. Truthfully, I'd give her the whole world if I could and I'm forever grateful that she's my soulmate. I truly don't know how I got so lucky, and I'll treat her like a queen until the day I die."

Alexei nods approvingly and Natasha squeezes your hand under the table. You spare her a glance to find the beginning of what you hope are happy tears in her eyes as she smiles at you.

"Gross," Yelena jokes before turning serious, "I like you, Y/N. I think I can trust you with my sestra, but do you remember what I told you on the FaceTime call?"

"If I hurt her, you'll kill me,"

She nods, "And I wasn't joking about the killing part."

"Yeah, I gathered that," you laugh as Yelena smiles innocently at you.

Melina joins the group a minute later with multiple dishes in her hands. She sets them down in the middle of the table before going back and returning with even more dishes, a bottle of vodka and some water for Natasha because obviously she couldn’t drink if she was driving. "Dig in, everyone, there's a lot to go around," she says, "I wasn't sure what you liked, Y/N. So we have a wide variety. There's some beef stroganoff, lasagne, mashed potatoes, veggies, sausages, chicken and mac and cheese with hot sauce, for Yelena."

Your mouth starts watering a concerning amount as she lists off all the options, and you're honestly shocked she went out of her way to make that much. "This is like a buffet," you laugh, "thank you. Wow." You're at a lost for words so all you can do is grab a bit of everything and dig in.

The conversation flows steadily around the table. Melina, Alexei and Yelena ask you questions about your life, your job, all the generic questions you'd usually ask your daughter's partner when you meet them for the first time. They also revealed some very funny childhood stories about Natasha (much to her chagrin), which made you laugh a lot and also feel grateful that you were able to get this insight into some part of your soulmate's childhood and her family.

Honestly, you have to appreciate how they all refer to each other as if they were an actual family. Even though none of them are actually related, you honestly wouldn't even notice if they didn't tell you. They act so much like a real family that it's adorable, and you're really happy for Natasha that she finally got this family back together.

You take a sip of your vodka and you can't help but scrunch up your face as it goes down, burning your throat. "So," you try to speak but are instead overcome by a coughing fit. God, how did these people drink vodka like it was water?

Natasha thumps you on the back and you give her a thumbs up in thanks, your eyes watering.

"I was starting to like Y/N, but now I might change my mind if they can't handle their vodka," Alexei says. You would probably worry if his tone wasn't so obviously meant to be teasing.

"It burns," you gasp out, making everyone at the table laugh, "how do you Russians handle it?"

"We came out of the womb drinking vodka," Yelena says.

"Anyway," you quickly change the subject once you've gotten your bearings back, eager to save yourself from any more embarrassment about not being able to handle your vodka, "how is it with your daughter as an Avenger?" You ask, "Like, I find myself worrying about her every time she goes on a mission even though I know she's amazing at her job and will be okay, but I still can't help but worry, so I can't imagine what that's like for you as her family."

"Oh yeah, I definitely get that. But Natasha knows that if she ever dies on the job I'd drag her back to life myself just so I could kill her again," Yelena says, Melina and Alexei nodding in agreement as Natasha shakes her head amusedly.

"Love you too, Lena,"

You let out a laugh as you lean back in your seat, content in just listening to the conversation between the four as you let your food settle. You really don't know why you were so worried, this night couldn't have gone any better. And you're fairly certain Melina and Alexei like you, at least you hoped they did and weren't just putting on an act. Yelena seemed to have taken a liking to you too, which you were glad about because you happened to have grown a liking to her too. Fanny also seemed to like you, the dog content in curling up at your feet for the entire meal.

All in all, you are infinitely glad that you've gotten their approval. You reach over to grab Natasha's hand under the table, interlocking your fingers together. She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, giving your hand a squeeze as she smiles gently at you.

You find yourself wondering again how you managed to get so lucky.

“See? Told you they’d love you,” Natasha says, sparing you a quick glance.

You two were on the drive back to the tower, warmth flooding through your veins both from the vodka and the knowledge that the night had went as best as you could’ve possibly hoped for. You had gotten a big hug from all three of them before you left, and they had each shared their phone numbers with you in case you ever wanted to talk (Alexei had even sent you a photo of little Nat with her adorable blue hair as soon as you had driven away which you were very grateful for). You were so thankful that they had accepted you into their family as quickly as they had.

“Mhm,” you agree, leaning your head against the window, “I don’t know what I was so worried about.”

Natasha hums in agreement before you two lapse into silence, the only sounds being the steady hum of the car and the faint noise of whatever radio channel Natasha had turned on.

Your breaths fog up the window as your eyelids start to droop, feeling utterly exhausted for some reason even though you didn’t really do anything that strenuous today. Unless you counted absolutely devouring Melina’s cooking, your stomach so full it almost feels like it’s about to burst.

“You know who Yelena reminds me of?” You ask even as your eyelids start to close of their own accord.

“Who?” Natasha spares you another quick glance, a gentle smile making its way onto her face when she notices your half asleep form. She taps the steering wheel with her fingers as she awaits your response, which takes a lot longer than is probably necessary since your brain is already halfway to unconsciousness.

When you finally do respond, your answer makes Natasha laugh, “Kya. I think they’d be really good friends.”

“A force to be reckoned with, more like,”

“Mhm,” is the only response your brain seems capable of making before you’ve fallen asleep and the only thing you remember hearing before sleep overtook you was Natasha saying goodnight.

Let’s just say you weren’t the least bit surprised when you had woken up the next morning in your own bed, Natasha sound asleep beside you (Tony had managed to sneak a photo of Natasha carrying you to your shared room, the redhead looking at you with a love shining in her eyes that was so raw and pure it had made Tony wonder whether he looked at Pepper that way. He was sure to stash the photo away for safekeeping until he could show you it, and also so he could use it as evidence against Natasha every time she claimed she was a ‘big bad assassin’, because even if she may be a very terrifying and intimidating individual, she is still also simultaneously an extremely whipped woman).

Your one year anniversary with Natasha came quicker than you had expected, and it was honestly quite shocking that all of this had happened in the span of a year. She had made your life so much better, you were so much more happier now and you hoped that you had also made her just a tiny bit happier too.

For some reason, the team plus Kya and Natasha's family had all decided to declare this day a massive holiday worth celebrating, which is why you were all currently sat in the living room of the tower, catching up and laughing over some drinks. They had also been showing photos they had took of you and Natasha (Tony had finally been able to show you the photo he snapped of Natasha carrying you, and honestly, the amount of love in her eyes had made yours fill with tears as you looked at it), sharing cute moments that they recalled seeing of you two and lightheartedly complaining that you two were so cute together it was literally sickening.

Of course, you and Natasha had also wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary with just the two of you, so you had went out to dinner earlier in the evening, but you weren't necessarily complaining that all of your friends (Kya still freaked out every time you casually mentioned one of the Avengers as your 'friend') had decided to get together to celebrate your relationship.

"It feels like it's been ages since we've hung out," Kya says as she sits down beside you, Natasha having left to stop Clint from showing Yelena embarrassing photos of her he had captured over the years.

You nod in agreement, "I know, but you've been so busy lately, and then I've been working in the MedBay and our schedules just don't align. How's Lillian?"

You and Kya tried to call each other at least once a week to catch up, but she had been overloaded with shifts at the hospital recently that there's hardly been any time to catch up, which honestly sucks because she's still your best friend and you don't know what you'd do without her. Technically, she is the reason that you had found out Natasha was your soulmate. If it wasn't for her obnoxious begging, you probably would've never applied for a job at the MedBay and would've lived the rest of your life not knowing who your soulmate was. It's weird how fate works, isn't it?

"She's doing great, still hasn't gotten used to the fact that Black Widow is basically only a phone call away yet, and she's still as obsessed with her as she ever was," Kya chuckles, causing you to laugh too, "but yeah, she's doing great."

You hum before taking a sip of your drink, content in just watching everyone talk and laugh together. Yelena runs past you, laughing like a maniac as she clutches a phone, which you have reason to believe is Clint's, in her hand. Your eyebrow raises in slight confusion which quickly dissipates as Natasha runs after her a split second later, looking equally embarrassed and annoyed.

Looking over at Clint, you give him a questioning look which he only answers with a shrug of his shoulders and a mischievous smile. You shake your head in amusement before Yelena comes running back over to you, "Y/N! Look at this hilarious photo of Nat!" She thrusts the phone in front of your face to show you a photo of a younger, clearly very drunk Natasha completely knocked out on the floor of the Barton's home. You burst out laughing seconds before Natasha comes running back over, making Yelena yelp and run away again.

Natasha stops temporarily in front of you, "What photo did she show you?" She asks, barely out of breath even though you're pretty sure she's been chasing Yelena all around the tower.

"Hm? A photo of what? She didn't show me a photo of anything," You look at her innocently, taking another sip of your drink. You're very aware she can see right through your act but it's still amusing as she glares at you before running after Yelena again.

Kya smiles at you, nudging you with her elbow, "I'm really happy for you. I'm glad you've found not only your soulmate, but also two amazing, albeit slightly unconventional, families. You definitely look a lot happier now too,"

Throwing your arm around your best friend's shoulders, you bring her in for a side hug, "Thank you. This literally wouldn't have happened without you though, you know that? So maybe you should just start calling yourself Cupid,"

She hums, "Maybe I should. I seem to be pretty amazing at it,"

The heartfelt moment with your best friend was quickly broken by Yelena's yell, "HELP! SOMEONE SAVE ME!"

Everyone turns their heads at the same time to see what exactly had made Yelena scream bloody murder, only to find her pinned on the ground by none other than Natasha. You all turn your heads back in unison, everyone starting to talk animatedly at each other and leaving Yelena to fend for herself (no one wise in the head would get in Natasha Romanoff's way), and you're pretty sure you vaguely hear her curse you all in Russian.

You may now be apart of two unusual families, but you find yourself knowing for certain that you wouldn't change it for the world.

"Nat?" You question confused, "Why'd you call me up here? Is everything okay?"

Earlier you had gotten a very urgent text message from Nat, demanding you meet her on the roof of the tower at 9pm, which is what you had done. Your mind had been going a mile a minute since you'd gotten the text, going through different what ifs and possibilities for why she had called you up here. Was she finally, after two years of your relationship, calling it off? Was the spark not there for her anymore? You don't know whether it's normal or not for soulmates to lose their love for each other, you assume it probably is normal, sometimes you just don't click with the other person even if they are your soulmate. You thought you and Natasha had fit together perfectly though, like you both had been missing a part of yourselves until you met each other. Maybe you were wrong though, maybe Natasha didn't feel the same way. Why would she wait so long to tell you though?

She turns around and smiles at you, but she looks nervous which makes your stomach sink with dread. Natasha Romanoff never looked nervous, never. You've never saw her nervous before. This was bad, it had to be.

"Nat?" You say again cautiously.

The redhead lets out a deep breath before ushering you over, "Come here,"

You walk closer to her and slowly reach out to take ahold of her hand, just in case maybe she really was breaking up with you. Thankfully she didn't flinch or move back and instead intertwined her hand with yours, "Are you okay?" You ask, "You seem nervous."

"I'm sorry," she says, "It's just, I- I really don't know how to do this, but it's," she takes another deep breath, "okay, okay, right, I'll just do it. It's fine. I've done things a lot more life threatening than this and I wasn't nervous about that," she seems to be talking more to herself than to you, and that makes you even more scared. Why was she so nervous? It was making you nervous.

"Just say it, whatever it is,"

She nods, "Okay, so I had a speech planned and everything, but I've completely forgotten it which is so weird and I don't know why this is making me so nervous. Seriously, this is how the Black Widow gets defeated? Why is this what makes me nervous? Sorry, I'm rambling," you can't help but chuckle at that, because even if she was making you very nervous right now, her rambling was undeniably adorable. It was a side to her that you never even knew existed, and you're pretty sure she didn't know it existed either until right now.

"Y/N Y/L/N," she starts again, sounding more confident now, "ever since you've came into my life I have been so much happier. It's funny, really, because I had went my entire life believing I just didn't have a soulmate. I didn't think I deserved one. Well, I believed I didn't deserve to be loved in general. You taught me that I was wrong, though. I don't know whether you meant to do it or not but, with every little sign of affection you showed me, you made me feel that maybe I was worthy of being loved and being in love," your breath hitches as you start to slowly figure out where this might be going, "everyone in the team is right when they say that I am completely whipped for you. I am literally hopelessly in love with you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I'm not lying when I say that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I know we're kind of expected to do just that because we're soulmates, but even if you weren't my soulmate I would still want to spend the rest of my life with you,"

She gets down on one knee then, taking a small box out of her jean pocket and tears fill your eyes, quickly overflowing and sliding down your cheeks as you realize your assumption was correct. Your hands move up to cover your mouth in shock.

Natasha smiles sheepishly, looking a bit nervous again even though you're not sure why because you're obviously going to say yes, "Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?"

You nod frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without either your voice cracking or just incoherent sobs coming out of your mouth. You simply hold your hand out in front of her and she gets the message, sliding the ring onto your ring finger. Natasha stands up, smiling at you and you can't help but notice that she's also crying. She pulls you into a bone crushing hug full of complete love and adoration.

You pull back after a few minutes only to cup her cheeks and bring her in for a deep kiss. Of course you've kissed each other plenty of times, but this kiss is different somehow. It's earth-shattering, it's like fireworks going off, it's like drinking hot chocolate on a cold winters day, the warmth flowing through your body and making you feel happy and content. Time seems to stop, the only thing mattering right now is her lips on yours. It's fierce but soft, desperate but passionate and your knees almost give in with the force of it. Your hands tangle in her fiery locks as Natasha's hand snakes around your waist. When your lungs scream for air, you reluctantly pull away, resting your forehead against hers.

"I love you so, so, so, so, much," you whisper into the very little space between you both.

"I love you more," she replies.

"No, I love you more."

"I love you most."

"I love you mostest."

"That is not a word," Natasha chuckles.

"It is now," you smile from ear to ear before kissing the tip of her nose.

You two stand like that for a few minutes, content in just basking in each other's warmth and the knowledge that you're getting married now. Kya is going to freak, and also probably be very smug because this was her doing.

You're about to begin a whole new chapter of your life, and you couldn't be more excited for it. It doesn't scare you, because as long as you have Natasha by your side, you're certain you'll be able to get through anything.

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