#just did some mediocre work today

[body-to-flame]

What else do you want from me?

#boygenius #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #julien baker #lyrics #lyric quotes #ketchum id #no #im sorry #i do not know #just did some mediocre work today

[midnightarsenal]

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞

Summary: Some old tweets come out and it puts you between a rock and a hard place.

Warning: Internalized Homophobia

Word Count: 2.6k

Arsenal Training Centre, St. Albans

///

You could sense the tension in the air before you'd even stepped through the doors.

...

The past few days had made you a bit of a nervous wreck. The result of some Sam Kerr fan account on Instagram posting a collection of old tweets you'd made nine years ago, back when you were 13.

Old, profoundly homophobic tweets.

And while some fans, mostly those already partial to you, had taken that substantial amount of time and your youth into account, many others had not. Instead, they hurled abuse alongside calls for the club to drop you at the earliest possible opportunity. You'd even tried disabling comments on your most recent social media posts before quickly realizing that the comments would simply move to older ones. Despite how bad some of them had become, you still found yourself not quite willing to disable the comments on every post you had ever made.

It was your own fault anyway. You had been signed by Arsenal a few months ago, having spent the years before that going from one mediocre team to the next until your international performance in Australia had seemingly caught the attention of several larger clubs, the Gunners included. You'd been positively over the moon when your management agency had called to give you the good news. It should have been your big break, and for a period of time, it was, but a position in such a prestigious club came with a level of increased publicity that you hadn't been fully prepared for.

You knew that you should have purged your Twitter before the contract had even been made public, but you'd long forgotten about those posts, those awful comments, and bigoted 'jokes' that your massively insecure thirteen-year-old self had felt the need to put out into the world to try and convince everyone that you were certifiably straight. To convince yourself in some deluded way that you did not frequently lose sleep over the increasingly intrusive and borderline distressing thoughts that plagued you every time you were around some of your friends at school and the teammates at your youth football academy.

Those thoughts just hadn't been you, of course. Because you were straight.

Or, at least that's what thirteen-year-old you had wanted to think at the time.

In the teenage years that followed those tweets, you had eventually been able to come to terms with your sexuality. It had been a slow, long, and painfully drawn-out process, but while the influence of your conservative family had worked to reinforce the close-minded worldview you had been raised with, being around so many openly gay women in your football career had ultimately proven to be a much stronger force in your life. To see that contrary to what you had been told, these supposedly evil and degenerate people were in fact perfectly ordinary and typically far kinder than the 'just' and 'moral' types you had been surrounded by in your childhood.

But, while you had gradually been deprogrammed from the more outwardly hostile and bigoted elements of how you'd been brought up, you had never quite gotten around to being proud of who you were, to being able to let yourself embrace what you felt and to let yourself be happy. Even today, all these years later, you still struggled to imagine yourself feeling the warmth of another woman, a woman you could love as more than just a friend, and a woman who you could feel comfortable telling the world about.

So, you had simply tried to ignore your feelings. Even as you went from teenager to adult and semi-professional to professional, you resigned yourself to a world in which love was an impossibility, where every teasing question from a friend about your romantic endeavors was expertly deflected with a non-committal answer and a change of topic.

You had learned to be happy for the women in your life who were openly gay and celebrated their relationships sincerely like a good friend would, but you could never deny yourself the reality that every time a close friend announced their new partner, you would feel a twinge of remorse, pain that was sourced from fleeting, quickly suppressed thoughts of a life not lived, an opportunity not taken, and a romance denied its potential. It was a sad way to live, but as sad as it was, the thought of telling the world that you were gay was even worse. It had always been worse.

...

And so now, as the sliding doors of the training centre's lobby parted, you found it a difficult task to keep your nerves from becoming overwhelming.

Management had already spoken to you about the tweets and the response on social media to them. Fortunately, no proper news outlet had put out an article on the 'situation' yet, but the club's PR people had seemed pretty nervous that eventually, one of them would. You'd told them that you hadchanged since you were thirteen and that you'd be more than willing to put out an apology. But, ultimately, their advice had been for you to simply stay quiet and hope it all went away on its own. Something that you had been less than thrilled to hear, as if you were ever confronted by a scenario in which it didn't just go away on its own, and eventually you were told to put out an apology, it would likely be too late by the time that you did.

"Morning, Y/N." you were taken away from your thoughts by the young woman at the front desk, Catherine. She was smiling, but you could tell it was a bit of a sympathetic smile, like the woman was trying to show that she was on your side. You appreciated the sentiment, of course, but being treated differently at all because of this was only making your nerves worse.

"Heya." you tried to greet back casually with a smile of your own, and despite your best efforts, it came across as an 'I know' type of smile, a visual confirmation that you acknowledged what had been happening on the Internet these past few days, and her small attempt to make you feel better.

You had almost passed her, ready to head deeper into the large facility when you abruptly stopped and asked, "Any of the other girls here before me?" To which the shorter woman behind the desk nodded, her demeanour steady in its sympathy towards you, knowing why you would be asking. After all, you were on a team with two gay relationships within it, let alone the number of players who just swung that way in general. And aside from the occasional joke or tease (the latter of which often hurt you to an extent that none of your new friends could possibly know), you were pretty certain that none of them actually thought you were a part of that category.

None of the girls had messaged you in the past twenty-four hours, which, while a little uncommon, wasn't an immediate tell that you had been made a pariah. The last message you'd gotten had been from Steph asking if you were available for a coffee date on Saturday, and that had been just over a day ago. Late enough to have been after that stupid account had posted those screenshots, but early enough to have been before many people knew about it.

Fuck, this was really getting to you.

You continued your way down the corridors of the training centre, each heartbeat feeling a little heavier than the last as you drew closer to the locker room. Knowing that at least a few of the girls would be there this early in the morning, getting changed or having a shower or just socializing as they waited for others to arrive. You wondered if they were talking about you, and if they were, what they were saying. You were wondering if they had already agreed to shun you, or even speak to Jonas about getting rid of you. Fuck, this was fucking getting to you.

You gripped the handle of the bag slung over your shoulder a little tighter as you approached the locker room and took a breath before opening the door, a hundred different scenarios having crossed your mind from the time you'd left the lobby to now.

Stepping into the locker room, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to what you had braced yourself for. It was business as usual—some of the girls were chatting casually, others were prepping their gear. For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself the hope that perhaps they hadn't seen those tweets or had chosen to ignore them.

But as you made your way to your locker, you could feel eyes on you. Some were quick glances, laced with uncertainty or curiosity, while others held longer, more contemplative stares. No one said anything directly, but the air was thick with unspoken questions and possible conclusions. It was hard to tell.

You kept your head down, focusing on getting ready. The sound of your locker door clanging shut seemed to echo louder than usual, and as you changed into your training gear, you pondered over your next steps. Ignoring the issue didn't feel right, but neither did addressing it without a plan.

"Hey," just then, your attention was taken by the sound of a voice that you quickly recognized as Katie's, her Dublin twang thick as always. The defender's expression was hard to read as she approached, and she sat down next to you, continuing after you replied, "Morning." Your voice was small, and your throat tightened a little, Katie was one of the closer friends you'd made in your somewhat limited time at the club, and her opinion mattered to you.

"Listen, I heard about the tweets," she started, and while you braced yourself for what might come next, you couldn't help but notice her tone being somewhat gentler than you'd expected, but still straightforward. "And, I wanted to say..." she continued, and you felt your heart beat a little bit faster. But, then she stopped, if only for a few seconds, and frowned slightly, though seemingly more to herself than to you. She looked like she was thinking about something, something about you, perhaps.

"Well, I don't know what I wanted to say exactly... but I'm here if you want to talk, or if you need anything, really."

Wait.

What?

You must have had a look on your face because the Irishwoman spoke up again. "Like, if you have anything you wanna get off your chest. I'm here for you, all of the girls are." She remained gentle, but you could tell that heart-to-hearts weren't exactly Katie's style (not that this surprised you) from the way she looked a little awkward, but her sincerity remained all the same.

Breathing just the slightest bit faster, it took you another second or two before you replied, "A lot of the girls?" One of your brows lifting curiously. Was... she implying what you were beginning to think she was implying?

Did Katie know think you were gay?

"Yeah. We care about ya, dummy. And unless you really are some horrible bigot, nothing you say is gonna change that." Katie smiled at that remark and you couldn't help but reflect her, shaking your head lightly in response. "I'm not," you confirmed, your eyes connecting with Katie's. "I was just... different then... I was—" You went to continue, but cut yourself off, your breath almost hitching as you caught yourself at the last moment from finishing that sentence.

I was afraid.

You could virtually see the defender's gaze softening on you in real time and you couldn't bear the sight of it anymore, glancing away and turning your attention to your shoes. The locker room around the pair of you was beginning to fade into the backdrop, although you got the feeling that it hadn't just been Katie's eyes on you. Even as you observed the details of your trainers, you could practically feel the woman next to you's gaze wandering off every few moments to the others in the room, maybe looking for assistance, or trying to convey her unspoken suspicion.

"You were what?" You heard, and this time it wasn't Katie who spoke. It was Beth, who was standing a short distance away by her own cubby. Immediately proving that your heart-to-heart with Arsenal's number 15 hadn't been quite so exclusive, and the locker room's sudden silence ironically brought it right back to the forefront of your attention. Everyone was listening, and many of them staring as well. Was this what they had been talking about before you'd shown up? Had they been in here putting together dots you hadn't known existed? A longing gaze you hadn't suppressed or one too many comments about the eyes or legs of another woman that you'd thought would simply slip under the radar as casual observation? Were those tweets the final confirmation they needed?

Was this the supposed 'gaydar' you had heard about?

"Nothing." you retorted swiftly, shaking your head again as you reached into your locker to resume getting dressed. You hadn't really paid attention to the fact you'd stopped when Katie had come over to talk to you, but the girls didn't seem intent on letting this moment slip away, and you could see Beth approach from your peripheral vision even as you tried to focus on getting changed. You were beginning to almost feel trapped, though you were certain that the culprit behind that particular feeling was more likely to be yourself than your teammates.

"Y/N, we're your friends." Beth said, kneeling down to eye level, while Katie still sat beside you, staring into the side of your head with an expression that was unusually gentle and almost unnervingly so. You still couldn't look at her without feeling your throat close up.

"Trust me... none of us are going to react like how that silly little brain of yours thinks we might." she continued softly and with a warm smile, and now you knew. You knew that they knew.

Your head tilted slightly up to look at Beth, who was now squatted a small distance from you, hands clasped together and blue eyes looking right into your own. You could still sense the looks of the other girls on you too, only now you didn't feel that they were judging, far from it actually. Your leg bounced up and down nervously, and you didn't even have it in you to try to stop it. You felt like you wanted to cry. Why was this so hard? Even now, when it was clear that everyone in the room knew. You just couldn't say it.

Your eyes started to glisten as the first tears threatened to push their way out, and you gave Beth a small, sad smile. Your throat began to hurt in the way that only a sob—or an imminent one—could provoke.

"I think you know already." you finally managed to get out, your voice as small as your presence in that room, and Beth only nodded. You could see some of the other girls nod too, but you were distracted by the feeling of Katie's hand taking your own and clutching it safely. A breath escaped you and it was shaky, uncertain, afraid.

"Yeah, I think we do, pet." the forward replied, closing the gap between you and pulling you in for a hug, her arms finding themselves at home wrapped around your torso. It was as if she'd given you permission to cry, the tears finally beginning to flow, as you buried your head into the other woman's shoulder, quietly sobbing into the fabric of her Arsenal jacket. Katie's hand tightened around your own, and you heard the sound of cleats and shoes closing in around you. You weren't sure how you were going to deal with this new reality moving forward, this world in which people other than yourself knew of your sexuality, but at least you wouldn't be alone.

///

End Notes: Hope you liked this one, guys! I promise not all of my fics will be angsty! I'm also in the process of writing an OC for a self-contained multi-part storyline. But, with how busy I've been with uni, who knows whether I'll actually finish it or not. Thanks for reading!

#woso #awfc #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #katie mccabe #beth mead #arsenal wfc x reader

[kamisatomay018]

Let yourself Love, Dear Iudex.

Neuvillette x female reader

Angst with comfort, very fluff and lengthy

Hope you enjoy!<3

“Forgive me, but I cannot accept your feelings..”

You were sure that if it was humanly possible, all of teyvat would’ve been able to hear your heart shatter. What were you expecting, that the Chief Justice of Fontaine would reciprocate your feelings? A fool is what you felt like, but you had no option, the feelings were too difficult to conceal, you needed to let it out even if it meant getting your heart broken. You had been the Iudex’s assistant for 4 years. You were excellent at your job, gaining the respect and admiration of all the people of Fontaine. Neuvillette had also been in awe of your work, and over the time you both had become closely acquainted with one another. He was an immaculate gentleman, his words sounding like the purest verses of poetry. His siren eyes held the depth of an ocean, his calm and gentle demeanour made you feel comforted. He was everything you could’ve ever asked for in a man.

After 2 years of loving him silently, you had gathered your courage to confess to him, somewhere hoping that the soft glances he often sent your way, the flowers you would receive from melusines and the hours you both spent chatting in his office about all sorts of topics weren’t just gestures a “friend” would receive. But of course, you were wrong. And now you stood in his office, heart aching and eyes wishing to burst into tears as the only man you had ever loved turned you down. You couldn’t be upset, you couldn’t be angry, you knew you couldn’t force him to love you. You heard the heavy rain pour outside, making you internally sigh in relief. At least outside this office you wouldn’t have to conceal your heartbreak.

You took a deep breath, managing to still smile despite the pain that swam in your green eyes, looking at the man in front of you who looked concerned and apologetic. Pity was the last thing you needed right now. “May I at least know why?” Perhaps this was not the wisest decision, perhaps his words would only pierce your shattered heart even more but you needed to know the truth. You knew that Neuvillette always spoke the truth, no matter how harsh it was. He was the Chief Justice for a reason after all.

Neuvillette’s eyes drifted away from yours, hesitant and clouded with emotions he himself struggled to understand. “I…do not understand love, I do not know if I feel the same way towards you for I can barely even understand myself. I cannot abandon my duties..”

You felt like scoffing or screaming because of this mediocre excuse he had given. It did not make sense to you, it did not make you understand whether you were the problem or that he just did not like you. His words were contradictory and confusing, and they infuriated you for some reason. You took another deep breath, not wishing to disrespect him. Before your friend, he was your superior. You stood up, just wanting to be as far away from him as possible for now. The walls of his office that were once your safe haven now felt suffocating, the walls which once echoed with your laughter were now filled with deafening silence.

“Then I’ll take my leave, my job for today is over. You can stay rest assured Monsieur, this topic will not be brought up, nor will it interfere with my work. Forgive me if I made you uncomfortable. Have a good night.”

“Please wait-“ but it was too late, you had walked out of his office hurriedly, tears falling as soon as you turned your back to him. The rain only grew stronger, as neuvillette felt even more conflicted, varieties of intense emotions creating chaos in his heart and mind. He felt so much pain, yet it wasn’t physical. He felt his heart become so heavy, guilt and remorse filling up his soul. Did he not do the right thing? He remembered the sight of your green eyes, which 10 minutes earlier shone brightly with happiness and warmth; but now because of him they looked pained and teary. Your trembling voice, the expression of pure agony on your face, he could not bear to remember it.

He knew that you were someone he trusted, someone he enjoyed spending his leisure time with. Whenever you were with him, it rarely rained. He felt content and happy, he felt less worried about the burden of his duties and his true identity. You were like sunshine to him, warm and bright, having the capability to shine through even the cloudiest of skies. But now he had dulled that bright shine, now he had hidden your bright light behind his dark grey clouds of rain. He massaged his forehead with his fingers. Archons, these emotions were so difficult to deal with. Now he was sure that he would lose you, and that fact hurt him so much that it made the skies roar with thunder. But he also couldn’t hurt you, he couldn’t lie to you. He truly did not understand love, so what if he was going to trap you in a beautiful lie? No, you deserved someone far better than him, a man who was not cowardly enough to hide in his office and make the people suffer through endless rain because he was in pain.

You stood outside your apartment building, drenched in rain. At least the sky was crying with you, and was helping you conceal your tears. How pitiful you must be looking, you thought, crying because of a rejection. But what bothered you was that Neuvillette’s reason for rejecting you was absolutely barbaric and ridiculous. So what if he didn’t understand love? If only he had given you a chance, you would’ve helped him learn what love is. But you were not going to beg for his love, you were not going to be desperate for anyone. All you could hope for was that he would come to his senses and realise that he just needed to open his heart and let himself love someone.

The next morning started, but there was no sun shining, rather the rain kept pouring down on the city unrelentingly. Worried about the Hydro Dragon, the traveler and Paimon entered his office, hoping to ease his troubles. “Neuvillette what’s wrong? It’s been raining cats and dogs since last evening!” Spoke paimon’s cheerful voice, as her tiny frame floated towards him. He looked up, a small yet tired smile forming on his face. “Ah it’s you two, forgive me for this rain, it must be causing quite and inconvenience for you.” The traveler observed the melancholy in the Chief Justice’s eyes and walked towards him. “We are just worried about you, please tell us, what’s wrong?”

“My thanks to you both for your concern, but I’m afraid that I cannot find the proper words to describe my emotions..” “That’s not a problem, just speak your heart out!!” Paimon said, and her words made Neuvillette think. Speak his heart out? Had he ever done that? “Please keep this matter extremely private then…” “of course we will neuvillette, you can trust us” the traveler said with a reassuring smile on his face.

“What is it like to…love someone?” Spoke they hydro dragon’s deep voice, laced with such heavy emotion. Both the traveler and his floating companion were shocked, never having expected such a question. They silently looked at each other, communicating through their eyes to help the poor man out as much as they could. Taking the lead like always, Paimon spoke in her loud yet cheerful voice. “That’s easy!! Paimon has read about love in soo many books! Some say that you feel butterflies in your tummy, that you feel like time stops and that they’re the one!!”

Neuvillette was perplexed at that. Time stopping? Butterflies in the stomach? What in teyvat was going on? “Oh stop it Paimon, you’re confusing him! Well, I personally have never been in love, but I have observed a lot of people in love and I can tell you about them, if that helps?” The traveler spoke, and neuvillette felt a great sense of gratitude. “Yes, that would be quite helpful.” “Well then, when you’re in love with someone, you feel calm and comfortable, and it’s as if time passes by in a flash when you’re around them. You feel like spending time in their company, you observe every little thing about them, their likes and dislikes, their habits..And when they’re not close, it makes your heart feel heavy, as if something is missing and just not right…What’s important is that if you love a person, you’d want to protect them forever, and seeing them hurt would hurt you physically, mentally and emotionally.”

Neuvillette felt as if his world had turned upside down. Every feeling described by the traveler was what he felt for you. Had he actually fallen in love unknowingly and rejected you? Dear archons, he was such a foolish man. “It..appears that I have made a grave mistake…” Paimon blinked curiously, looking at him. “What mistake?” “I turned down the girl I loved because I thought the emotions I feel for her weren’t love but something entirely different…” Oh boy, the traveler thought. So that’s why it’s been raining so much. “Well that’s not a problem! You can just go back to her and apologise! I’m sure she would understand if she loves you!!” Neuvillette’s eyes looked at Paimon with uncertainty. “Is it really that simple? Will she really forgive me?” The traveler smiled, placing his hands on his hips. “You won’t know until you try Neuvillette.”

After a good moment of silence, Neuvillette gathered his thoughts together, nodding. He had done wrong, and he had to correct it. He realised that he always felt this way around you, but he didn’t know it was love. You were very precious to him, and he couldn’t lose you because of his fault. “My sincere thanks to you both. I will remember your words. I should go now.” Paimon giggled, waving at him. “Good luck!!”

You were sitting in your bed, arms wrapped around yourself while you looked outside the window, hearing the pitter-patter of rain. It was your day off, which you were really thankful for. How could you face Neuvillette after what happened yesterday? You were snapped out of your thoughts as you heard knocks on your main door. Who could it be? You got up, opening the door and gasped softly. “Monsieur? What are you doing here- oh my you’re drenched!” Worry took over your heart as you led him inside your apartment, about to go fetch a towel for him. But you were stopped by his hand gently holding yours. “Please wait..there are things I wish to discuss with you Mon Amour..” wait. What did he just call you?

You turned to face him, now noticing the fresh rainbow roses in his hand, surrounded with sparkling water droplets. Could it be that he had finally realised something? You nodded at his words, a blush making itself visible on your cheeks. Neuvillette’s face lit up, as he sweetly handed you the flowers, then holding your free hand. “Please, forgive me, my reaction yesterday was unacceptable…I was just caught off guard, unable to process my emotions. But in that process I ended up hurting you, and that fact makes my soul ache endlessly…” your eyes turned soft, as you stepped closer to him. “Then have you processed your emotions now?”

His oh so beautiful siren eyes met yours, as he smiled “yes I have. With a little help, I understood that..I do indeed reciprocate your feelings Mon Amour…I do love you…” a tear fell down your cheek at those words. Finally, the words you wanted to hear for two years were spoken. “Are you sure..? You’re not forcing yourself to love me for my sake right?” He chuckled softly, cupping your cheeks softly, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Mon Amour, I truly do love you. When you are near, my days are filled with joy. Your laughter is my remedy, your eyes are where I feel the most comfort..when you are away from me, my heart feels hollow, my entire being feels cold and empty. You are like sunshine for me, bright and warm, shining through the cloudy skies around my heart..But I cannot lie to you, loving me is not easy..I find it difficult to understand my emotions, and I might not be the best partner you need.”

Without caring about anything else, you hugged him tightly. This was all you needed, he was all you ever wanted. “Neuvillette, you are perfect for me. We have enough time, I will teach you how to love, I will show you what love feels like. I just need you by my side, I need your hand in mine.” Goodness, the warmth he felt in your embrace was so addictive that he never wished to leave. He hugged you closer, inhaling your scent. “I can promise you that I will always be by your side. You are everything for me Mon Amour…you are the only person who has taken the time to love me for who I am..I cannot thank you enough for it.”

The rain slowed down, and the clouds parted to make way for the bright sunlight to shine through the skies. A beautiful rainbow formed between the clouds, as the two lovers embraced one another. “Just let yourself love my dear Iudex, and everything will fall in place.” He smiled even more, heart full of joy. “I will try my best for you Sunshine..”

You looked at him now, with a smile so sweet that it made his heart race and stomach feel weird. Perhaps Paimon was right about the butterflies in the stomach. He watched as his love cupped his cheeks, leaning closer and as both their eyes closed, he felt her soft lips against his. Only he knows how crazy his heart went at that moment. Archons, he wouldn’t be able to survive this love if you kept going on. But did he want to stop? No; not at all. You both smiled as you kissed each other so softly, pure love blossoming in your hearts. You both were finally happy.

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin fanart #neuvilette x you #neuvilette #neuvillette x reader #neuvilette genshin #fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #fanfic

[sohnric]

KISS STAINS — E. SOHN

pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader

genre: fluff, situationship to lovers ?? poor eric is a little confused, but he is very much in love.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: the reader is titled as "girlfriend", misunderstanding/miscommunication

a/n: this is a late valentine's day fic because it wouldn't appear in the tags on wednesday and i had to wait to get home to fix it >:( !! thank you @/from-izzy and beloved @/csenke (as always) for beta reading o:)

When the front door to your apartment opens up in front of his eyes to reveal you staring at him in surprise, Eric can’t help but feel a little confused at your expression. You’re wearing a mini dress– one of the black ones that hug your figure just in the right places– makeup adorning your face and making your gaze twice as much magnetizing to the boy through the layer of eyeliner tight-lining your eyes. He suddenly feels a little silly for coming up to your apartment in a casual outfit– as far as he was concerned, neither of you made reservations to go out, though.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, making Eric twice as confused. Still, you let him inside your place, stepping aside from the doorway and watching as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a pouty look playing with his features.

“Well… it’s Valentine’s Day,” he says, as if the reason wasn’t already clear enough before. Scratching the back of his head, he offers you the flowers he’s been holding in one hand, watching as you take them with big eyes that only soften when you bring them up to your nose and breathe in the scent of your favourites. “I thought we were staying in today…?” he asks, pointing at your outfit that’s very obviously meant for going out.

“Oh,” you look at him, tone of voice almost a little ironically surprised as you walk towards your kitchen and take out a vase, pouring water in it and placing the bouquet inside. Eric was too busy with practice to get you any reservations outside, and although he was sure he could sneak you in somewhere in a mediocre restaurant, he was thinking you two could just hang out at your place instead. He liked the idea of cuddling with you in bed much better if he’s being honest. “I’m getting ready to go out, though.”

The sentence catches Eric off guard. He watches as you walk back over to your bathroom and plug in your hair straightener, sectioning your hair into thirds so you can work on your hairdo more efficiently. The boy follows you in, staring at your expression through the mirror. “Why…?”

“Well… You never asked me to be your Valentine, Eric,” you shrug as if the reasoning was the most obvious thing in the world.

The boy instinctively furrows his brows at you, the argument making him a little taken aback. Sure, he never asked– but the only reason was that he thought he didn’t have to. “I assumed that was a given,” he hums, watching as you touch the hair straightener to see if it’s hot enough to use on your hair, “besides, you could’ve asked me to be your Valentine too! This is the 21st century, men don’t have to do everything…”

Your expression morphs into frustration– a clear sign that the fact that Eric didn’t ask you to be his Valentine has been bugging you for quite some time now and he hasn’t noticed until now. It makes the boy feel a little bad. Had he known it was important to you, he would’ve asked you, no big deal. The thing is… he really didn’t think he had to ask in the first place.

“Why did you assume it was a given?” you ask, scoffing. 

Eric watches as you run the hair straightener over strands of your hair, yet the usual concentration on your face when you do so leaves your expression and is replaced with a look of irritation. Your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s a wrinkle in between them, rendering the boy speechless. “Because… we are dating…?” he says, eyes staring into yours through the bathroom mirror.

A snicker leaves your throat at his argument. “Correction– we went on a few dates.”

Now, this has Eric Sohn even more speechless than before. He didn’t think there was much difference between dating and going on dates, but now he realises that your mind is perhaps even more complicated than he thought it was before. “So… we aren’t dating?”

The question leaves his mouth before he has a chance to stop it. His mind is swirling around with all the dates you two have been to. It’s been two months since the two of you started dating– well, what he assumed was dating– and never once has he doubted that this is what you two were doing. He took you to the arcade and let you win on a few of the machines. He took you to the amusement park and bought you all the cotton candy your heart desired. You two took photo booth pictures and he keeps the strip in his wallet. He told you he loved you when you went on a late-night walk a few weeks after your first date, and since then, every day at least once. Hell, he even brought you over to his dorms and didn’t dismiss his friends when they started calling you his girlfriend after you left.

Because in his mind, that’s what you were. His girlfriend. Because you two were dating. You did all the things people in relationships do– you hold hands, you kiss, you sleep over at each other’s houses– you are intimate… 

Are you two not dating?

“You’ve never asked me to be your girlfriend either,” you shrug, combing your hair before you move to straighten another piece, making the boy fall into a momentary silence.

Has he not? Well, if he really thinks about it, that’s true. He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend, because after the shift you two made from being friends to going on dates and being rich in PDA, he thought his intentions were obvious. Somehow, in his lovesick mind, the moment he asked you out on a date was the moment you two started dating– and when you say it like this, it makes perfect, logical sense, doesn’t it? 

Obviously, now that he thinks about it, it doesn’t. “Well, I just assumed… is this not exclusive?” he asks, his heart suddenly dropping into his stomach.

“Well, you never asked for that either,” you shrug.

“So that means you are seeing other people?” Eric clarifies, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Never in his life did he need a response to his question to be negative as much as in this moment.

Your eyes meet his in the mirror, something behind your gaze shifting when you notice his distressed expression. Eric recognizes just how anxious he looks in your bathroom mirror, and before you give him a chance to crumble, he hears you chuckle. “I am not. Are you?”

“Well, up until this moment, I thought we were in a serious, committed relationship, so no, Y/N. I am not seeing other people,” he says, an airy laugh escaping his throat.

Staring at each other’s expression in the mirror, Eric watches as you sigh and put the hair straightener down on the sink, turning your body towards his. His eyes go wide as you stare at him with your warm orbs, fondness and tenderness now mirroring your gaze– a big contrast to the stern look you greeted him with upon opening your front door. 

To Eric, the progression of your relationship was natural. He took it as it came, admiring the shift from being friends to something more, and never once questioned the direction it was heading. He loved you– of course, he always thought of you as his. To Eric, the love you two share for each other has always been habitual. 

He never asked you to be his, because in his mind, he was already yours. It was as obvious as that. No second guessing– he was always sure of what you two had.

“You’ve been telling people that I am your girlfriend?” you ask, voice quiet, tender, yet almost amused– pleased.

“Well, was I wrong?” he hums, locking his eyes with you directly now, laughing.

“We never had the talk.”

“I didn’t think it was necessary,” he says.

Watching you roll your eyes, the misunderstanding now vanishing into thin air– he leans in and presses a kiss to your red lips. When you pull away from him, a soft giggle resonates in the four walls of your bathroom, a finger pointing to his lips. “That looks good on you,” you hum as the boy looks at his reflection in the mirror.

Red lipstick is smeared all over his lips, a messy imprint of your affection. He finds himself smiling at his reflection, a lovesick look warming up his gaze when he looks back at you. “Does it?”

“Yeah,” you hum as you stand on your tippy toes and press another peck to his face– now reaching for his left cheek instead. Eric’s arms come to hold your sides, helping you balance as you press wet kisses all over his face, wherever you can reach. He feels you glaze his other cheekbone, the tip of his nose, his chin, the very middle of his forehead. Two kisses placed on his temples, a hearty giggle escaping your throat when you peck his jaw and the side of his face, only pulling away to admire your masterpiece.

“Just so we are clear,” Eric clears his throat, finally verbalizing the thoughts he’s been keeping to himself– the thoughts he assumed were clear as day and didn’t have to be said out loud or clarified, “will you be my Valentine, then? Or my girlfriend? Both, actually?” he asks, heart leaping out of his chest when you laugh at him and thread your fingers through the hair on his nape.

“Well, I kinda assumed those two go hand in hand, Eric,” you hum to him like a secret, and he can’t help but roll his eyes at your punctuality.

“Is that a yes, then?”

“Let me think about it–” you joke before you burst into a screechy laughter, having Eric’s hands prop below your knees and hoisting you up onto the bathroom sink. 

The boy leaves another kiss on your lips before he pulls away and admires your face from up close. Eric Sohn likes pretty things and your face is so far his most favourite. And when he catches his reflection in the mirror– his face full of lipstick kiss stains and a dumb, lovesick look in his eyes– he’s almost happy for all of the confusion. 

See, as the hopeless romantic he is, although he hates to admit that he hasn’t been dating you for the past two months like he thought he has been, he doesn’t really hate the idea of your anniversary being on Valentine’s day: the holiday of love.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #eric sohn #sohn youngjae #the boyz fluff #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario

[fairyofshampgyu]

Corrupt File !

genre: smut, college au

pairing: programmer! beomgyu x gn reader (afab when it comes to smut)

warnings: nsfw, sub virgin nerd! beomgyu, dom! reader, corruption kink, mentions of p0rn, handjob, riding

word count: 1.8k

Choi Beomgyu. Goodie two shoes in your comp sci class who was the teacher’s pet and notorious for being an ‘excellent’ and ‘strong’ programmer who can program amazingly well in any language and has great debugging skills. Apparently he learnt how to program at the early age of 7 and made his own pac man after a week. 

He’s also a little pretentious bitch. He thinks he’s better than everyone else in the class and doesn’t bother speaking to anyone, giving others judgemental stares. You’ve seen him a couple times on campus with four other dudes though but none of them were in any of your classes. He comes to every single class early with his cute little outfits, sweater vests and cardigans whilst everyone else is in their hoodies and deranged with little sleep, sits at the front and doesn’t talk to anyone but the teacher. 

You? Well, you’re mediocre at programming. You’re not too bad but you prefer other aspects of computer science and your programming skills have always made you slightly insecure because you weren't the best of the best and you didn’t learn it at some ridiculously young age and program 24/7 all types of games and websites and other stuff. You had to work so hard to actually get to a good level of programming whilst it came so easy to people like Choi Beomgyu. He seems so perfect. It made you want to imperfect him. 

You were late to class today, getting a bit delayed by some cats on the way there. They were really cute cats what can you say! And you loved cats. But being late to class today meant that all seats were occupied except for the front row and the spare seat, unsurprisingly was next to Choi Beomgyu. He doesn’t pay you any attention though, waiting for his computer screen to load and then the teacher begins.

“Alright, today I thought our class was in great need of some partner work and we’ll be doing programming today. With whoever is sitting next to you, I’d like you to develop a program with them. It can be on everything and anything and you have the weekend to create it, using Python.”

Wow. It was just your luck. 

The boy besides you sighs, pushes his cute, round, kinda too big for his face, glasses up and turns his body to face you. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t have minded working with him. Despite being slightly jealous, you did admire his skill but with how hostile he was being and how clearly he resented the idea of working with you, you didn’t think this was going to go too well.

“...We could make like a simple video game or something...” You speak up first.

 “On python? And too basic.” He rolls his eyes and shuts your suggestion off.

You’re slightly agitated with him now and you show it with your tone. “Well what do you think we should do then, huh?”

“I think we should make a music suggestion tool. We could make an algorithm run that recommends music based on what we think the user will like.”

He doesn’t wait for you to agree, opening up python and already starting to write some code.

For the rest of the class, you don’t contribute much, just trying to give him some suggestions to add maybe a function over there or a loop over here, maybe trying to find a reason as to why a syntax or logic error came up. You’re already halfway done and sure it would need more refining but now you know it won’t take up your whole weekend which is good. You watch him carefully as he stays very focused, fluffy dark hair falling into his face and eyes and his circular glasses that had drooped back down to his nose. You look down to his hands. He was very fast at typing and his hands were oddly very pretty.

Upon inspecting his features, you come to the conclusion that he was in fact actually pretty attractive. How had you never noticed before?

“We can carry on working on it at my place right now if you want?” Beomgyu asks, packing up his pink laptop, pink pencil case and pink notebook back into his crossbody bag after the class had finished. You stare at your own laptop that just has a black hard case cover, your pencil case that looks like it’s been through three wars, and your notebook that was really just a bunch of lined paper. Wow, he even had a theme going on. 

“Oh I've actually got another class after this that won’t be done until about two hours but I can come after that. Just send me your address.” So you exchange phone numbers and go off your separate ways. 

Apparently you were the only one who wasn’t informed that your class was actually cancelled today, your professor going on strike or something like that. Sighing, you check your phone to see that beomgyu had sent you his address and it’s not that far from the campus. You could go there early then.

knock, knock, knock. He was taking weirdly long to open his door and you could hear some rustling and bustling until he finally did open his door.

“Oh. You’re here early.”

“Yeah turns out my class was actually cancelled.”

His room was exactly how you expected it to look; clean and cute and quite perfectly him. The room had a pastel coloured running theme but mostly just pink and white. Fairy lights, strung across the headboard of his bed, a pastel pink record player in the right corner with an assortment of vinyls underneath, ones you recognised and liked and some you didn't recognise, an acoustic guitar to the left on a stand near his shelf and there was a worn out teddy bear occupying his bed. 

He sits on his bed and you follow...and then you both just sit there doing absolutely nothing for a few seconds in awkward silence.

“Uhhh aren’t you gonna get your laptop? We wrote it on your laptop?” You laugh, awkwardly.

“Uh yeah. Right.” So he gets his laptop, very slowly opening it and he’s just about to open the .py file when his mouse board falters over the safari accidentally and the hidden window was freed with a very suggestive video on it paused and an even more suggestive website. Your eyes go wide and so does his.

“I-it’s not- it’s not what it looks like! I-it’s just when you’re watching on a dodgy website and those pop ups come up! yeah...yeah!” He’s furiously clicking the red button on the top left hand corner to close the window immediately. But you can’t help the grin slowly appearing on your face.

You move slowly closer towards him and he moves back, stopping when his head touches the pretty fairy light headboard. “Oh really? Because it seems like you were jerking off before I was here.” Your face is only a few inches away from his now and he gulps, looking up at you. When he doesn’t even say anything to defend himself, you chuckle at him. “What happened to the little goodie two shoes? I didn’t know you were such a fucking whore.”

“I’m not-i’m not a whore!”  

“Are you sure?” You move to his clothed dick which was painfully hard now, lightly palming it and his whole body jerks, moaning and eyelids fluttering. 

“More, more...” 

You scoff. “Have you ever had a handjob before?” He shakes his head. “Do you want one?” Slack-jawed, he nods his head profusely.

You free his dick and take it into your hands, starting to stroke him and his hands fly to shyly cover his face, attempting to conceal his moans but not to much success.

“Don’t cover your pretty face.” You tut at him, “I wanna see it.” You bring your own hands to remove them away from his face. Not gonna lie, it’s turning you on immensely seeing beomgyu like this. Little put together, pretentious, perfect beomgyu is like this right now, begging you to touch him, clueless and embarrassed. You want to absolutely ruin him. 

 “Aw I bet you didn’t get to cum before did you?” 

“yeah...”

“Don't worry, baby I'll let you cum.”

You use your thumb to go back and forth on his sensitive tip while your other hand grabs the base of his dick and his mouth hangs wide open in endless moans and gasps. You pump his dick fast up and down, ruthlessly jerking him off and his breath hitches.

“Close!” He lets out the loudest moan so far and you abruptly stop. He utters a frustrated whine, hips bucking up and pouting at you, “I thought you said you’d let me cum.”

You can’t help but giggle at him. He’s so cute. “I will. In my pussy.” That seems to shut him up.

You get on top of him, straddling his waist and gently pinning both of his hands to the headboard. He looks at you slightly nervous.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to.”

“You sure?” He nods his head.

“Okay.” You inhale a breath before positioning his tip to your entrance and you look to his face again for confirmation and when there’s no sign of uncertainty , you slowly sink down.

“Oh, fuck! Feels so gooood” His face contorts in pleasure and he turns his head to the side, burying it into the pillow whilst his mouth stays parted. You lift up and drop back down hard, making him cry out a loud moan and you begin to ride him slow.

He was already so blissed out by you riding him slow you wonder how he’d be if you quicken your pace so you do, riding him mercilessly now, basically bouncing on his cock and he moans uncontrollably, incoherent words coming out of him with a fucked out face in a daze. Only his moans getting higher in pitch by the second and the noise of skin slapping filling the room.

“C-cumming, cumming!” And with a loud whine and his eyes slightly rolling back, his dick jerks and spills all inside of you with his body trembling.

His face right after being fucked is gorgeous. He’s breathless and panting by his first proper orgasm with his cheeks and chest flushed, face glistening because of the sweat and his fluffy hair completely wrecked now, glasses a bit crooked and head in the clouds.

Yeah, maybe you won’t end up getting the program done in time after all.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE REALLY APPRECIATED GUYS 😭<333

#beomgyu smut #sub! beomgyu #sub!beomgyu #sub!idol #sub! idol #dom!reader #sub! txt #sub!txt #txt smut #txt scenarios #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt reactions #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu x reader #kpop smut #txt hard hours

[girls-alias]

Diner - Dean Winchester

Title: Diner - Dean Winchester Words: 1,622 Relations: Dean Winchester X reader. TW:

Prompt:

Dean watching you work at your diner and he smiles every time you look at him.

I adjusted my hair in the mirror as my hair sat beneath my work cap. I smiled at my reflection before leaving the work bathroom. I work in a diner that was famous years ago for something mediocre but folks around here are sentimental and think that makes us famous forever. We're quite a big diner but it's all about the atmosphere and we have an abundance of that. Everyone is pleasant and good to work with, no one argues, and no one sexually harasses you but the best part about working at Dino's Diner is all the different people you meet going about their travels. 

Today seemed like any other day. I walked through the kitchen with a bright smile on my face. "Hey, guys," I called through to the kitchen staff who greeted me before continuing their conversation. I walked to the main computer and clocked in before tying my apron and greeting the manager. 

"You know the drill. You're on the left side," He informed me with a smile making me laugh. It's all routine. The same thing every day but I like the repetition. It's predictable. The day was going by, as usual, greeting, seating, serving and parting but the day was soon changed when my fellow waitress, Trish, approached me behind the bar with a wide smile. 

"What you smiling about?" I asked suspiciously looking her over. 

"You've caught someone's attention," She commented with a smirk. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion, she chuckled as she gestured with her eyes over her tables. I gave them a glance over to see that I made eye contact with an extremely attractive man. He had a pen to his lips and instantly smiled. I smiled back to be polite and played it cool. Not that I was very good at that. I looked to Trish who smirked and pretended to do work while she stood beside me. "I've been trying to get his attention for hours and you walk in and have it in seconds." She commented making me roll my eyes. "You're hot and ignore it, why?" She added making me laugh.

"You only say that because you know me." I chuckled. Everyone always says I am a funny and reliable friend. I would drop anything for someone I love. 

"Well, that guy doesn't seem to think so," She mocked making me laugh. I shook my head and walked away. I kept myself busy by working but found myself wondering about the guy. I kept checking over. Sometimes he was copying something from a book, other times he was watching me but every time my eyes met his he did the most amazing smile. A smile I knew I wanted. I began thinking of who he might be. Copying from a book suggested a student but he didn't look like one. I stood behind the bar sorting out some cutlery pots when Trish hurried towards me. 

"I really need the bathroom can you take the bill to table 13?" She asked in a hurry practically just running past me. I didn't even have time to agree before she disappeared through the staff doors. I laughed and grabbed the bill for 13. The table was just behind the attractive man's table so went around him hoping to get a closer look. Yep, definitely the most handsome man I've ever seen. Table 13 gave me their payment and I waved them out of the door. As I was about to walk back to the bar I saw the man looking around, probably looking for me. I smiled. He doesn't know I'm behind him.

"Looking for something?" I asked walking into his line of sight. He didn't seem to get a fright but looked up at me with a wide smile. 

"Yeah, I'm looking for the courage to ask for your number," He replied, pretty smoothly I might add. I thought about it. I know for a fact he's going to leave here with it but better play a little hard to get. He has the kind of eyes that could get me naked in seconds but he's not allowed to know that. Well, not yet. 

"Hundreds of men come in here a day and some ask that same question, why should I say yes to you?" I asked with a smile. 

"Because I'm adorable," He commented pulling a face like I was blind making me laugh. 

"But if you know you're adorable then how do I know you're not the sleeping around kind of guy?" I asked with a soft smile. His smile grew at the challenge. 

"I guess you'll just have to take a chance," He replied softly. I smiled at his answer.

"I'm Y/N" I added putting my hand out for him to shake. 

"Dean," He shook my hand and smirked. I couldn't help but smile. I got my order pad out and wrote down my number and showed it to him. He went to grab it but I smirked as I pulled it away. 

"You have to earn it," I shrugged as I placed the paper in my back pocket and walked away with a smirk. Admittedly shaking my hips slightly as I walked and continued to work. Trish was just leaving the staff room when I made it to the bar. We exchanged a smile. 

"Table 13's tip," I explained as I handed her the change and walked away. I finished up sorting out the cutlery pots and found that Dean hadn't stopped smiling but whenever we made eye contact he smiled a kind of goofy and teeth-baring smile like he couldn't hold it back. I couldn't help but do the same. I tried not to make eye contact with him and as the night progressed I was getting better at stealing glances without him noticing. 

"See you later, Y/N," Trish called with her coat and bag on. Dean and Carl, A regular trucker, were the only ones left inside. 

"Oh, you finished?" I asked but it was obvious. I could feel Dean's eyes on me. 

"Yeah, Management's letting me go home early, you can hold the fort for half an hour?" She questioned making me smile. 

"Yeah, no problem. Have a good night, have some wine for me," I commented making her laugh. 

"I sure will, and talk to that guy," She replied making me laugh. "Night," She called back as she began to exit making sure to suggestively say goodbye to Dean. Dean's eyes never left mine as she walked by, Trish was disappointed so once she was behind him she pretended to have a tantrum making me laugh. Dean was curious as to what I was laughing at and so turned around. Trish stopped but he had caught her, she chuckled nervously before leaving making me laugh harder. I tried covering my laughter but struggled and it took a while for me to compose myself. I finished cleaning up all the tables before realising I had no other work to do so walked over and took a seat in front of Dean. He instantly put his pen down and gave me his full attention. 

"So, you've officially been here for 7 hours, I think it's a record," I commented making him chuckle. 

"What can I say? I like the atmosphere, the people, the view and the coffee," He replied making me laugh.  

"What are you writing?" I asked looking over the books in front of him. 

"A book... about monsters," He answered pessimistically. My eyebrows knitted together a little. "It's about a guy who has to hunt monsters and demons to keep a pretty waitress' like you alive," He added making me laugh. 

"Oh, yeah? What happens in the end?" I asked with a smile staring deep into his eyes. He chuckles. 

"Haven't written that part yet," He replied smoothly. I couldn't help but smile. I nodded slightly as I leaned forward pulling my number out of my pocket. Dean was smiling from ear to ear as I placed the paper on the table and slid it towards him. He looked at me like I had handed him billions of dollars. 

"You'll have to let me know how the book ends," I shrugged making him chuckle. He bit his lip as he nodded. "Don't lose it," I joked making him laugh. He picked the paper up and put it in his front pocket. 

"I wouldn't dream of it," He added making me smile a little wider. He seems goofy. The bell above the door grabbed my attention showing new customers. Two truckers would often come in. 

"Hey, guys, take a seat I'll be over in a minute," I instructed as I stood up and started tucking my chair in. "Since you have my number and your coffee mug is full can I get you anything else?" I asked sweetly, his smile never fading. 

"Don't suppose you have apple pie?" He asked sounding a little disheartened. 

"We do actually, it's just not on the menu," I replied making him smile but also look confused. 

"Any reason?" He asked. 

"Well, I make the apple pies from scratch and I can't make enough for the whole restaurant so it's reserved for the kind of regulars," I explained making his eyes widen. 

"You bake apple pies... You're marriage material," He commented making me laugh. 

"One apple pie coming up," I announced making him laugh again. 

"Ooh, make that three," A trucker added making me chuckle as I nodded and walked to the kitchen. I returned with their pies and as I placed Dean's in front of him he spoke. 

"Go out with me," He said sounding sheepishly dominant. I smiled and nodded. 

"I finish in 10 minutes," 

#fanfiction #fanfic #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fic #dean #dean winchester x reader

[yeoja-dream]

Could you write an ot7 x reader fic where the reader feels they arent good enough because they're not particularly skinny but not fat and feels they're not that talented compared to the boys? Pretty angsty but some fluff? ❤

God. You sigh inwardly looking at your body for the millionth time in the standing mirror of your bedroom, jeans unbuttoned wide, mocking. The perspiration on your brow from exertion tells the rest of the story.

You had gained weight. Again. As if it wasn't hard enough to be the girlfriend of the seven most talented men on the earth, all muscle and grace. The picture of masculine beauty, and you, textbook mediocrity.

You kick the pants off in anger, hot tears stinging your eyes as you flop back onto your bed. You are going to be late for work. You scolded yourself. Fuck work. You snapped back like the world would come to a screeching halt if one cashier at Francine's was 15 minutes late.

What happened to the diet? Your inner critic asks, voice dripping in bitter sarcasm. They work so hard and you can't even look good for them? People would laugh if they saw you together.

Your phone buzzes, bringing you temporarily out of your shame spiral. You wipe away your now-flowing tears to see the message light up your screen.

Jiminnie ❤️: Good morning everyone ꜀( ˊ̠˂˃ˋ̠ )꜆

You smile somewhat bittersweetly to yourself. Jimin, always the first one up, always the first to tell everyone good morning. You recall, briefly, the day when Tae beat him to the punch and how he pouted the whole day.

Y/N: Morning chim~ Have an amazing day today! ❤️

Jiminnie ❤️: You too!!

Have an amazing day. Well, you could certainly try. You pick yourself off your bed and select a frumpy sweater and a baggy pair of jeans. It was cold, anyway, you told yourself disguising your plummeting self-esteem in faux practicality. You studied your face in the mirror, plain, if not a little pretty, but certainly not superstar-worthy. You swipe on some waterproof mascara and don your sneakers before the self-criticism has a chance to sink in.

Work was awful. You were so swept off your feet with customers, that you had barely had time to glance at your phone in between getting screamed at for not carrying certain sizes or being out of stock. You had slipped to the stock room more than once to put your waterproof mascara to the test. Last double I ever work. You say to yourself, shutting the lights, arming the security, and slipping out the back.

The autumnal night air had a wintery bite to it, you regret not bringing a jacket. It is only now that you have the chance to read your phone, slightly wincing at the piled notifications from the day. Most recently, you read:

Yoongi 😻: Finished working with Namjoon a little while ago. You must be done soon too. It’s cold, so I am going to come and pick you up. Did you eat?

Y/N: How presumptuous, Mr. Min~

Your tone is sardonic, but really, you're glad for the ride as a chill begins seeping into your bones. Before long, you see his black sports car pull up and you waste no time jumping in the front. You had done this routine before. 

“Hi,” Yongi says, looking you up and down before leaning in for a kiss.

“Hi,” you say back, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“What? Is that all I get?” He quips in faux hurt. “Oh did you want to make out right now, leave Namjoon to drive?” You tease back before turning to face the man in the back seat. “Hi,” You greet him as well, offering him your hand.

“Don’t let me stop you” Namjoon says with a chuckle, “I just didn’t know you were looking to die today.” He then picks up your hand, placing a gentle kiss on the knuckle. “Hi, baby.” He said with his signature, dimpled smile. The sight of which clenches your heart, the words from your shame spiral this morning coming back full force. You don’t deserve this.

“Where am I dropping you off?” Yoongi asked. “Did you eat? We could get dinner.”

“My place, please. I had a big lunch and I think I’m just going to reheat some leftovers for dinner. You guys go ahead.” You lie, but you were in no mood to be eating food in front of them. 

Yoongi looked at you, piercingly as he always does. Just when you think he’s going to call you on your lie,

“Alright.” He says, before putting the car in gear. Your apartment is only 10 minutes away, but Yoongi goes the long way letting you rant about stupid customers and annoying managers. By the time he pulls up, you feel better and you realize, he knew you needed that. A lump forms in your throat at the notion. You offer the pair a kiss, before sliding out of the car as quick as you can go, lest you start crying again. Yoongi waits until you’re inside, safe before pulling off. He always does. You don’t deserve him. You don’t deserve them.

Dinner is another mental warzone as you peruse your kitchen, biting commentary from two halves of your inner voice. After what happened this morning you don’t deserve to eat. The boys wouldn’t want me to starve. You’d be so much prettier if you were skinny. Starving isn’t a good way of weight loss anyway. The mental back and forth is exhausting, so you settle on a sandwich and settle on the couch. 

TaeTae: You wanna ft? I miss youuuuuu why didn’t you come over today???

The message lights up your phone. You respond by calling him. He picks up right away. 

“Y/N!” He exclaims. Even disheveled, he looks amazing. After catching up on the group chat, you learned that the maknae line had the day off and had a “staycation” as they put it while the hyungs were busy away. 

“Hi Tae” You giggle back at his enthusiasm. It was infectious, it always was. 

“Why didn’t you come over today?? We missed you!” He pouts.

“I am tired, Tae. And I have work early tomorrow and the following day. All doubles.” 

“Jeez. I swear you work harder than us!” 

You could laugh at the insinuation. They were multinational artists, constantly writing music, performing, dancing, recording music, recording content, and you folded clothes and got screamed at by people 10x richer than you for 12 hours a day. You would hardly call that working harder. You keep the thought to yourself. 

“EY YO.” You hear Jungkook's unmistakable voice shout in the background. “IS THAT Y/N?” 

“Yes, but I’m talking to her!” Tae says ripping the phone away from his dongsaeng as he flopps down on the couch next to him. 

“Hey, I wanna talk too!” He says, yanking the older boy’s arm back so the two of them come into view. 

“Hi, kookie.” You say, giving him a small wave. 

“Y/N! I’ve been locked in the house all day with these schmucks, can you believe that?” Jungkook says, exasperated. 

“Hey!” Tae shouts, offended. “You weren’t complaining about being locked in when me and Jimin brought you pancakes in bed. Or when we did face masks and painted our nails!” 

“Yeah, we did our nails, look!” Jungkook says, ignoring the rest of Taehyung’s remarks. On Jungkook's hand, he has nicely painted black nails, on Taehyung a well-manicured clear coat. 

“You did an amazing job!” You say giving them a small round of applause. 

“We miss you.” The youngest says after a few beats of silence. The sincerity pulls at your heart. 

“It's only been a week.” You say sticking your tongue out. “I miss you all too.” That at least was the whole truth. 

“Well you’re busy and we’re busy…” Taehyung trailed off. You understood what he was getting at. No matter what you felt for them, there was always going to be miles of difference between you and them. Different leagues, solar systems. 

“But don’t be busy this weekend! Saturday~” Jungkook reminds you AGAIN. The boys had been teasing you for weeks about this surprise. You couldn’t forget if you wanted to.

“I have to go to bed.” You half whine, stretching. 

“GOOD NIGHT WE LOVE YOU SLEEP WELL” They yell at you in half unison before hanging up. 

“I love you too.” You say to no one, before getting up and going to bed. 

And so the days passed like that, days rushed off your feet, nights full of loud face times, and spare thoughts dedicated to your inadequacy. Pushing every single worry, every bitter thought down, lest you worry them with your stupid problems. They had plenty on their plate. You were so boring, untalented, plain. They shown brighter than the sun, thousands of beautiful, perfect successful girls would kill to be you. Should be you. You lucked into this position. Just because you were in the right place at the right time. Just because Jin was so friendly. You tricked him. He just introduced you to everyone else because he pitied you. They just pity you. You can’t even be happy around them. You can’t even be fun for them. What do you provide them? It was suffocating. They deserve better. They deserve better. They deserve better.

Friday night you walk home, music blasting through your earbuds, tears running down your face. It was the wind, you say to no one, bitterly wiping them on your sleeve. You finally understood what you had to do. Saturday, when you met up, you’d thank them for everything, and let them find someone worthy. For their own sake. You wouldn’t let them waste any more time on you.

Sleep was fitful and tear-stained that night, the night soon passed, and Saturday morning came.

The group chat through the day was uncharacteristically silent, save for Jimin’s obligatory good morning text. Fuck, you were going to miss that. 

In terms of the plans tonight, you had been given instructions to show up at a certain place by 5 pm. Even when inquiring about what you should wear was vague, anything you felt like. You felt like crawling into a ball of self-pity and hiding under the sheets, but still, you pulled yourself together enough to ready yourself for anything. Pulling the place up on Google Maps revealed it to be a warehouse of sorts. Weird. You thought, clipping your earrings in and pulling your shoes on as the Uber blared its horn obnoxiously outside. 

You went for something practical, but cute. Tennis skirt with thigh-high socks, a button-down blouse to match, and a puffer jacket. Makeup was light, and minimal. Cry proof, you were going to break up with 7 men you had come to love after all. It was for their own good. You reminded yourself. 

The ride itself was as blissfully silent as an Uber ride can be, and not long. Outside of general city limits, there was marginally less attention and fewer chances of a slip-up. Being seen with you was the last thing they could afford. 

The Uber pulled away leaving you in front of a large, white warehouse. This was some kind of industrial complex, you noted. Double checking the warehouse number with the number JK had sent to you 2 weeks prior. This was the place. 

A feeling of unsettlement crossed your mind now, in the time you had known these men they had never once given you pause to worry, let alone make you feel unsafe. And yet, here you were, alone in a line of massive, empty warehouses. A bit of fear began to prickle under your skin and your scalp. They wouldn’t hurt you, right? Hell, maybe this is the merciful way out. A dark side of you thought. 

Without wasting any more time, you stepped forward opening the door and stepping into total blackness. 

The temperature was fine, temperate even. The scent of woodland, peat moss, and petrichor was thick in the air. Seconds in the dark felt like hours, panic sets in and you take a step backward, feeling for the door. Before you can grasp the handle, the lights come on all at once, and several voices shout HAPPY ANNIVERSARY at you. 

You visibly jump, startled, but then audibly gasp at the scene before you. The warehouse had been decorated, floor to ceiling to resemble an enchanted forest. Large trees stood relatively tall in the vaulted ceiling of the space, their gnarled limbs covered in deep green vegetation, moss hanging from them like beards. Lights and glass baubles hung too, their glittering looking like forest spirits in suspended animation. Impossibly, from somewhere high and unseeable, light streamed down through the tree tops, golden and warm as the real sun. The floor seemed to be made of real, deep green moss that squished slightly under your feet. You noticed that there seemed to be several large stones forming stepping stone paths through the moss and into the fake woods. Feint music and animal chatter could be heard too, bringing the space to life. In front of you sits a large, stone arch, twisted with vines and seemingly weathered with time, though which was a clearing, where sat 7 of the most beautiful men you had seen in your life at a long, beautifully decorated, rich dark wood table. 

The boys had dressed themselves in complete congruence with the environment. They each wore long hair of varying lengths some shoulder length, some to the waist, but all done up in a manner of braids, flowers, and gems. Each wore a manner of robes and belts of several different colors, draped and tied perfectly to emphasize their physique. It hits you at once what this all is, and nothing could stop the torrent of tears that spring forth as a result. 

“Oh! Wait, those seem like upset tears!” Jin is the first up and rushing over to you. “We were hoping for happy tears not upset tears!” 

“God damn it you guys I told you so many times we should say something and that we were going to scare the shit out of her on accident!” Namjoon said in a huff, standing up and making his way over to you. The rest follow behind, all echoing cheer-ups and apologies alike. 

You sob openly now into your hands, and even with all 7 of the men you have grown to love surrounding you, you lock your abs and you don’t allow one to pull you into a comforting embrace. Jin is the first to speak again. 

“Y/N, what has gotten into you? We just wanted to do something nice and memorable for our 1st anniversary together.” Jin said with a level of love, concern, and sincerity that something in you finally snapped. 

“Why. Are. You. Being. So. Fucking. Nice. To. Me.” You ask, demand in between heaving sobs. 

“Because we love you!” Jungkook answers first, and everyone answers in the affirmative. 

“I. Am. Fucking. Worthless.” You sob again.

“Don’t say that!” Jimin says this time, trying to grab you, hold you. You resist him again. 

“First I am so up my own ass I can’t be bothered to remember that it's our anniversary, and you guys go and do something so nice, so beautiful for me. I can’t give you anything. All I do is take. You are all so perfect and beautiful and talented and I am just a plain worthless girl, working a dead-end job, with a shitty flabby body and plain face who tricked you guys into caring for me. I drag you down. We live in different worlds and I am tired of watching you all pretending I’m worth anything more than a cheap fuck.” The words fall out in a blubbering mess, a stream of words, feelings, and sentiments bursting forth after being pent up for a year. You can’t bring yourself to look at anyone in particular, so you study the floor. 

“Enough.” The voice rings out so sternly it stops your torrent almost in its place. You look up as Hoseok, who had been standing behind everyone else, pushes his way to the front, standing directly in front of you. His face, normally the definition of sunshine and joy, only held fury. 

“First of all.” He began, clipped and stern. “That dead-end job keeps you so busy you hardly have time to eat and shower, so you’d be forgiven for forgetting.”

“But- You begin before Hoseok cuts you off. 

“I am not finished. Second, I’m grateful for that dead-end job because it lead us to you. If you hadn’t been working at that boutique, Jin-hyung would never have met you, and I wouldn’t have ever met you in return. Lastly,” He begins, stepping forward another step, holding your face in between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to make eye contact with him. “You can talk shit about anyone you’d like, but you are not ever to speak that way about anyone I love. Not to me, not to any of them. And further, you are not ever, and I do mean ever, to tell me who I am and am not permitted to love.” 

At this angle, you search his face, and you find anger, so much anger, but more so you find hurt and love and honesty. Tears well again in your eyes, but this time when Hoseok pulls you into his arms, you don’t resist him. One by one, everyone piles into what is, ostensibly, the cheesiest group hug ever, but you can’t find it in you to care. You cry again for what seems like ages, breathing in the mixing scent of them and allowing yourself, finally, to let them love you. 

After your crying stills, you break apart and survey the group, more carefully this time. They had even themed their outfits around it. 

“My dream.” you sniffle and gesture to them, then the set behind them. “Our first group date, I told you about a dream I had as a little girl. The enchanted forest and its 7 protectors. You even dressed up as them.” You say in a half laugh. “The dragon,” you said gesturing to Namjoon, “Gumiho,” You say pointing to Jimin, “Hydra,” You say pointing to Yoongi, “Fae King, Werewolf, Griffin, and Phoenix,” You say, pointing to Jin, Jungkook, Hoseok, and Jimin respectively. 

“The very same,” Yoongi says with a bow. 

“Wow…” You say, breathless. A silence falls on the group before you speak up once again. “I am… sorry.” You start. 

“Don’t be!” Various maknae line members clamor to interrupt you. 

“Let her finish,” Namjoon says sternly. 

“I have been feeling this way for a long time. I think it's been building up from the beginning, actually. I have always felt like you guys were all a billion times more attractive than me, and I started to feel like on top of that, I was talentless and useless in comparison. I never wanted to burden you with my insecure ramblings so I kept them buried and I guess they ate me alive a little. A lot. Truthfully I came here ready to break up with you.” 

“What?!” The group of voices collectively reacts. 

“No I mean I didn’t want to but I felt super useless and ugly so I thought you were just wasting your time with me I mean I love you all so much and I feel so grateful and lucky to have you but it was for your own good that you found someone else-” You begin spouting off. 

Jin takes your hand, interrupting your stream of consciousness “I thought we’d exchange the sweet stuff at dinner but there is no greater time than now. I consider meeting you to be one of the luckiest days of my life. And I know I can speak for everyone and say this past year, you have brought so much joy and intrigue and fun into our lives and we wouldn’t give you up for anything or anyone.” 

“Besides.” Yoongi grabs your other hand, giving it a light kiss. “You are a terrible liar. I could see you were suffering from something inside. I know what that's like.” 

“AND” Jungkook adds loudly “NOT THAT IT IS ABOUT THIS” he begins loudly, “AND WE VALUE Y/N THE MOST FOR HER KINDNESS, HER CONSIDERATION, HER WORK ETHIC, HER SPUNK-” 

“Get to the point.” The group says collectively. 

“Y/N to me, to us, you are a work of art. You can’t see yourself the way we do. Your face belongs in a Monet, your body is as if it was sculpted by Michaelangelo himself. Even the little things you do, the way you tie up your hair when you are trying to concentrate when you throw your head back and laugh when something is really funny, when you pace around the apartment when you're on the phone, you are beautiful”

“Aw, kookie…” You clasp your hand around your mouth, before wrapping your arms around him. 

“God please no more tears,” Taehyung says, desperately. 

You laugh, letting go of Jungkook. “Tae, I don’t think I have any left in my body.” 

“Listen, everyone, I can’t promise you this discussion is going to make the voice telling me I’m inadequate to go away. But what I can promise is that I will talk about them. I won’t let them build up so bad.” 

“That’s all we would ask of you,” Namjoon says in return. “Besides I’m kind of worried who the hell we’ve been dating this last year if you think we are perfect!” 

“Without getting personal,” Jimin pipes in “We are all at least a group of barely functional, workaholic perfectionists who don’t eat enough, don’t sleep enough, and who care far too much what the public thinks of us. And that's just what applies to all of us, forget our individual faults.” 

“True…” You concede. “Is it still too late to enjoy whatever this is?” You ask, gesturing toward the table.

“No not at all!” They all scramble away, leading you to the table. You immediately notice that apparently, a meltdown was not in the card for the evening, as lit candelabras were now dripping hot wax onto the table runner. Various foods dotted the table, sat in warming dishes to ensure they didn’t get cold while they waited. It was a variable fragrant smorgasbord, and you were starving. 

“I feel a little underdressed…” You admit, looking at them and then at your outfit. “You guys could have at least told me the dress code.” You said, teasing. 

“OH SHIT RIGHT.” Jungkook jumps forward, bowing deeply and putting on a commanding tone. “Fae king, get the lady her vestments at once!” 

Jin rolls his eyes at the younger’s commanding tone, but reaches under the table and pulls out a large, white box. From which he pulls out a deep green dress with several accessories and piles them into your hands. “If the lady would be so kind to change over there.” He said, gesturing to a tasteful rice paper screen that stood about 30 feet to the side of the table. 

“She would.” You say, giving a little curtsey, walking off to change. The dress was form-fitting but in all the best ways. What you didn’t notice before, was that the dress was heavy, dotted with crystals made to look like you were covered in the morning summer dew. Over your shoulders sat a long cape made of leaves, arranged in the gradient from green, to yellow, to orange, to red, to brown. Atop your head, a crown of wildflowers and fruit tree blossoms, and a scepter for you to carry, clear crystalline in its structure, topped by a frosted glass orb from inside which, a dull blue light shown. 

“It’s clearly season-themed…” You begin as you step from behind the screen. “But why?” You ask, taking in their expressions. 

Your heart rate quickens and you feel the heat rise to your face as the group goes silent, somewhat slack-jawed. Some wear expressions of hunger, and desire, others of pure awe and love, but no doubt you hold all their attention. 

“What?!” You ask demandingly, embarrassed. 

“You look…” Jimin starts 

“Perfect.” Yoongi finishes. 

“Thank you” You offer, voice unsure. You somewhat walk over to them feeling awkward, but flattered. 

“Queen of the forest.” Taehyung offers. 

“Huh?” 

“Queen of the forest.” He repeats. “That’s what your dream was missing. We protect the forest, but we still needed a queen.” 

The depth of the metaphor forms a lump in your throat. You clear it before speaking. “Well, it’s beautiful. This is all so beautiful. Thank you, I cannot express my gratitude enough.” 

“Thank you. For being here. For being you. You are everything we need you to be.” Jimin said with a sweet smile. “Shall we eat?” 

And with that, the evening dinner festivities take off. The lot of you spend the evening drinking too much wine and sharing your favorite stories from the year together. At the end of the night, you go back to their place where you can all snuggle in Namjoon’s massive bed, and as the wine takes you to sleep, it occurs to you that maybe, you are right where you are supposed to be.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed the request it only took me 4 years, 9 months, and 18 days to complete

#bts #bangtan #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts x fem!reader #ot7xreader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #jimin x reader #taehyun x reader #jungkook x reader #fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader fluff #yeojarequest #oneshot

[pascaloverx]

Rewrite The Stars

Chapter One

Summary: One photo changes your whole life, when you accidentally bump into a celebrity and the world starts to believe that you are a couple.

preview chapter two

The night ends up being good, taking away the pain in your head that doesn't seem to go away. Serving at Pedro Pascal's table is much calmer than you thought it would be. You just need to control yourself so you don't ask for an autograph or over-treat him. Oscar Isaac is also here, having dinner with him. You believe they are just friends having dinner together but you don't want to assume anything.

"I don't know what you did, but the manager is calling you. And I'm telling you, he's in a horrible mood." Your coworker speaks close to your ear and you feel butterflies in your stomach. It can only be about the incident with Pascal. You prepare to hear some nonsense.

"If I don't get out of there in five minutes, rescue me. I feel like even my third generation will be insulted today." You say looking at your colleague as if you know you got screwed. She nods her head positively with a look of empathy. You head towards your manager who is standing near the back door, right where the whole incident happened. You're officially screwed.

"Can you explain to me how you cause an accident with a celebrity on the same day that I made it clear that nothing could go wrong?" Your manager says, while you are confused.

"Sir, as much as it seems like it wasn't me who caused the accident. It was a coincidence, nothing more than that." You speak softly, trying to stay calm.

"There are no coincidences in the world of customer service. This is a renowned restaurant, not a corner diner. My team must be impeccable. Your mediocrity offends me to the point that I won't even ask for your advance notice. Remove your things from my establishment and go to HR as soon as possible." Your former manager speaks, with a tone of contempt.

"You are being unfair, I did my best to carry out my tasks with mastery." You speak almost out of despair. This job is all you have.

"What I am or am not is none of your business. Oh, and don't use this work as a reference, I will make it my personal goal to ruin any job opportunity you have." It was at that moment that his emotional shock turned to anger. Resigning is bad, but getting in the way of having another job is too much.

"So if I have nothing left to lose, I'm going to take this opportunity to be very realistic." You speak losing the last bit of control you have over yourself.

"And what are you going to do about it?” He asks, almost mocking your face. You then take the jug of orange juice and throw it at his head.

"If you'll excuse me, I'll leave with the rest of my dignity." You say, turning around and noticing that people in the restaurant have noticed your disagreement with the manager. Everyone's eyes were on the situation you had just been in and you felt embarrassed. You even wondered where Mr. Pascal was, since you hadn't seen him.

"Are you looking for me?" Mr. Pascal speaks behind you, and you jump discretely scared.

"Do you have a habit of surprising others unexpectedly?" You say, composing yourself and walking towards the employee area. Surprisingly Mr. Pascal accompanies you.

"It's not a habit of mine but I think it's happening a lot when it comes to our dates with each other. I apologize if I'm being intrusive." Mr. Pascal speaks sincerely in your tone of voice.

"You don't need to apologize, I may have been rude. This night suddenly turned into chaos." You say it, trying to be as subtle as possible, but the truth is that you're screwed and you can't even hide it.

"I witnessed the scene with your old boss. I must say that despite the waste of a beautiful orange juice, he deserved every drop of that juice." Mr. Pascal speaks, almost containing his laughter, and you feel happy to amuse someone that night.

"Do you need anything, I still work here until I take off my uniform." You say, imagining that he followed you because he needed something.

"Actually, I came to give you something. I know it doesn't make up for your dismissal but I think you You deserve it for your effort." He hands you a piece of paper, more specifically a check.

"Sir. No need to give me a check for the inconvenience, seriously. At the end of the day, this job wasn't the best." You say, trying to return the check but Mr. Pascal doesn't accept it.

"Take it as a tip for causing all this and for you getting fired because of me." Mr. Pascal says, forcing the check into my hands. You smile thinking that you are incredibly lucky of being in the presence of a celebrity that you like but that your boss made you feel as if you were insignificant.

"Thank you, sir. It was an honor to meet you." You say, taking the check and putting it on your uniform, not seeing the amount or anything. Mr. Pascal takes your hand lightly and you feel as if the world stops for that split second in which he held your hand.

"It was my pleasure, I hope that if we meet again, your life will be in a better situation." Mr. Pascal speaks with an unusual kindness, his smile could light up a village but you could only focus on the fact that he was lightly holding your hand. Your hand in his and his hand in yours.

"Good evening, Mr. Pascal." You say it as soon as you can come to your senses. He nods as if accepting my goodnight and then he returns to his table. And you return to your reality.

#pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic pedro pascal #reader insert

[charmedreincarnation]

I’m kind of in a similar situation to your college indecisiveness post bc I want to shift but never have the time cuz all this studying. I’m really hating life rn. I’ve tried shifting a few times and managed to detach my awareness from this reality for a few minutes at a time, so i know what works for me, but I never have time to do it. I feel kind of drained that I could be achieving so much but I’m stuck not even having the time cuz I’m not smart enough to get done with all this HW fast enough

TLDR how do I be cool like you and too smart for school to be a big concern? Do I just say f**k it and do a shifting attempt when I’m supposed to be studying?

This was such a sweet ask 😭😭💖 I'm overwhelmed by the sweetness of your words, and I assure you, I'm far from being as cool as you think. In fact, I found myself facing the very same dilemma in the past! Now, I'm not sure if you're looking for some wisdom from Loa or valuable studying tips, so ill share a little bit of both? Also college-related questions/asks have been pouring in lately, so I've decided to address them all right here. I should probably just make it a post but I’ll use this ask as a reference.

Pre law perspective:

So my senior year, was when I really started my journey. It was during this time that I learned about shifting and manifesting (kind of law of attraction) so I naturally attempted everyday and had my focus to that. However, I basically spiraled into burnout and indifference towards school. Tbh It's still a mystery to me how I managed to do fine in school when I basically stopped attending classes mentally and barely did my work.

I've always had ADHD, anxiety, and procrastination issues throughout my high school years, But senior year took it to a whole new level. The boredom and disconnection from my studies were unbearable. I went through the motions, completing my homework, but for classes I didn't enjoy, I mindlessly attended without caring or understanding the material. It was a year filled with academic mediocrity, and certain subjects like AP Calculus and AP Biology, which I didn't even need for my future plans, were absolute torture.

And at the time I didn’t even fully understand what shifting was, But I clung to the notion that school no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. Looking back, I realize it was a detrimental mentality to have for my well being. If there's one piece of advice I can offer, it's this - find a balance. Avoid burning yourself out completely, but don't neglect your mental well-being either. You are still here, whether you're shifting or not, whether you’re god or not, and whether you're actively manifesting or not. Diving deeper into a negative mental well will not benefit you in any way. Trust me, I learned this the hard way.

As my burnout intensified, I reached a point where I no longer wanted to be alive in this boring ass reality. It became so severe that I almost didn't apply to college. My entire focus was consumed by shifting, and I simply didn't care about anything else. It was my friends who came to my rescue, pushing me to apply and offering unwavering support. Without their guidance and nurturing, I honestly don't know where I would be today.

Eventually, I grew tired of being tired. I began diving into my subliminal journey, creating playlists that combined affirmations for school,success, and luck. I learned the importance of dividing my time wisely. During the second semester, I continued this approach, focusing on school-related practices during the day and dedicating my evenings to shifting attempts.

Affirmations and scripting became the root of my routine too. Miraculously, my grades improved, even when I skipped classes for an entire month or neglected to read the lectures.

I was able to graduate high school with honors, which in itself proves that success or whatever isn’t even just about being naturally "good at school." I worked smarter, not harder and knowing about manifesting really helped with that!

So I really advice you to find a balance in your journey. Don't pour all your energy into just school or just manifesting. Embrace the plethora of easy methods available - scripting, subliminals, binaural beats - and integrate them into your study routine. Make it work in your favor. Treat shifting like a cherished hobby, something that complements your academic pursuits rather than overshadowing them.

Also, set realistic standards for yourself. In high school, I used to obsess over achieving straight A's, disregarding any grade below perfection. Looking back, I realize how misplaced my priorities were. As long as you maintain a mix of A's, B's, and even a few C's, you'll be absolutely fine. Set a goal of achieving a GPA of 3.0 or whatever scale your institution uses, and celebrate every success along the way.

Loa perspective

Ok, now let's talk about the power of the Law of Assumption!

Now that I'm in a place where I give only about 20% of my time and effort to school and still do very well, I can help and reflect on my journey properly. Back in high school, like said I struggled with anxiety and ADHD, and I thought these challenges would hold me back.

Test-taking, deadlines, remembering information it all seemed overwhelming. But you know what helped me? Subliminals.

Listening to subliminals for intelligence and confidence made a significant difference in my life. They boosted my abilities and gave me the belief that I could excel academically. And that belief was everything.

As you probably know the Law of Assumption states that whatever we expect and assume to be true will become our reality. So, I decided to apply this principle to my studies. I assumed that I was capable of achieving great grades with ease. I assumed that school life would be manageable, and I would continuously improve my skills throughout the semester. I always visualized seeing As, revised my past grades, teacher giving me the grade I know I deserve no matter what.

And guess what? It worked! My mindset shifted towards greater productivity, and I started using my time more efficiently. As a result, my grades improved, and I had more time to focus on the things I genuinely enjoyed. It was a game-changer, and it accounted for about 70% of my success. Just imagine that - simply switching my mindset and accepting the positive results from my previous subliminal experiences.

I understand that college can be more stressful and demanding than high school. But it's still the same principle at play. You don't have to drastically change your study habits if you don't want to. Instead, use general resources during the day to aid your studying. And while you're at it, listen to subliminals that align with your goals. Instead of imagining and affirming to yourself that you're a failure and worrying about all the things that could go wrong, shift your focus. Imagine the grade you want, affirm and visualize that no matter what happens on your test, you'll still pass the class with flying colors. Remember, it's just one test, one assignment, and there are so many more opportunities ahead.

General school tips

* Stop checking your grades every day. Seriously, it's only stressing you out. Grades can fluctuate randomly, especially in college (and honestly, even in high school). Instead of obsessing over the numbers, focus on staying on top of your assignments. Keep up with your work, put in your best effort, and trust that alone will reflect in your grades.

* Say no to all-nighters. Trust me, reading the same material for 12 hours straight won't magically make you understand it. If something isn't clicking, it's probably an internal issue. There's no need to spend an entire night alone trying to grasp a single concept. Look for alternative resources like recap lessons on YouTube or seek help from a tutor or classmate. Remember, it's okay to acknowledge what doesn't come naturally to you and instead focus on your strengths.

* Realistically, doing your homework and attending class means you're probably not failing. Even if you're not getting the grade you want, it doesn't mean you're headed for failure. Those big tests that carry a significant weight in your grade may impact your GPA, but they don't define the trajectory of your life. Take a moment to reflect on all the times you thought a single grade would ruin everything, yet here you are, still alive and thriving. You've been through challenges before, and you're stronger than you think. Breathe, remind yourself that you're not alone in these thoughts and stresses, and keep pushing forward.

* Make friends and join class group chats. Trust me, these connections are gold. Joining group chats on platforms like GroupMe or Snapchat allows you to ask questions, collaborate on study guides, and realize that you're not alone in this journey. Even if they're not your closest friends, having a support system within your classes can make all the difference.

* Use EFT tapping for anxiety, especially before tests. Emotional Freedom Technique (EFT) tapping is not only useful for Law purposes, but it can also work wonders for managing anxiety. Check out my pinned guide on how to use EFT tapping. It has personally helped me immensely, and I hope it does the same for you.

* Work smarter, not harder. The truth is, those who seem to breeze through school while partying every night still manage to graduate and pass just like everyone else. The key is finding shortcuts, utilizing the vast resources available on the internet, and working smarter, not harder. Embrace technology, explore online study tools, and leverage the power of the internet as your greatest friend in this journey.

Here are some free recourses:

Math and Science

1. MathMagic Lite: This app lets you write any mathematical expressions and various scientific symbols easily

2. Equatio: A powerful equation editor that makes it easy to create digital, accessible maths

3. Microsoft Mathematics: Can be used to write mathematical expressions, solve equations, and plot graphs

4. Desmos Scientific Calculator & Graphing Calculator: Utility apps for students and teachers for calculations and graph plotting

5. WolframAlpha: A computational search engine that can solve a wide variety of problems, especially useful for math and science

Article/Video Summarization

6. Smmry: A website that summarizes articles for you

7. TLDR This: A browser extension for quick article summarization

8. Inshorts: An app providing news in 60 words or less

9. Listenable: Converts articles into short audio files

Note-Taking

10. Evernote: A note-taking app where you can jot down thoughts, save things you find online, and even scan physical documents with your phone's camera

11. Microsoft OneNote: Allows for free-form information gathering and multi-user collaboration

12. Notion: An all-in-one workspace where you can write, plan, collaborate, and get organized

Concept Explanation

13. Khan Academy: Offers practice exercises, instructional videos, and a personalized learning dashboard that empower learners to study at their own pace in and outside of the classroom

14. Coursera: Provides universal access to the world’s best education, partnering with top universities and organizations to offer courses online

15. Complexly: A YouTube channel that produces a variety of educational content, including the series Crash Course which covers many different subjects in depth

16. citation machine: you never have to make source citations by yourself. This gives your both in test and citations for your essays and research.

Lastly I’m gonna put all the free resources most colleges offer for free!

Academic Resources

* Online Study Platforms: Websites such as Khan Academy, Coursera, and edX offer free or low-cost courses on a variety of subjects that can supplement your coursework.

* Academic Advising Centers: Most colleges have an academic advising center where students can get guidance on course selection, degree requirements, and academic planning.

* Writing Centers: Writing centers provide assistance with writing assignments, including proofreading, editing, and helping with citations.

* Library Research Databases: Your college library likely subscribes to a number of research databases (like JSTOR, EBSCO, and ProQuest) that can provide access to academic journals, books, and other resources.

2. Career Resources

* Career Centers: These centers offer career counseling, resume reviews, interview preparation, and job search assistance.

* Internship and Co-op Programs: Many colleges have programs that help students find internships or co-op positions in their field of interest.

* LinkedIn Learning: This platform offers courses on a variety of career-related topics, including networking, resume writing, and job interviewing.

3. Mental Health and Wellness Resources

* Counseling Centers: Most colleges offer free or low-cost mental health services to students, including individual therapy, group sessions, and workshops.

* Fitness Centers: Regular exercise is important for both physical and mental health. Most colleges have fitness centers that offer a variety of workout options.

* Mindfulness and Meditation Apps: Apps like Headspace and Calm offer guided meditations that can help reduce stress and improve mental health.

4. Financial Aid Resources

* Financial Aid Office: Your college's financial aid office can provide information on scholarships, grants, work-study opportunities, and student loans.

* FAFSA: The Free Application for Federal Student Aid (FAFSA) is the key to accessing federal financial aid, including grants, work-https://www.tumblr.com/charmedreincarnation/712878654521262080/everything-eft-tapping?source=share funds, and loans.

* Scholarship Search Engines: Websites like Fastweb and Scholarships.com can help you find scholarships that you may be eligible for.

Other questions I got

Q: How did you manifest graduating early?

A: Graduating early was always a desire deep within me. I didn't realize it was on track to manifest until I had a meeting with my advisor. Interestingly, when I found out it was happening, I wasn't as ecstatic as I thought I would be. It made me realize that desires can change as we grow and evolve. So, if something you once desired doesn't bring you the same joy anymore, it's perfectly okay. Life is all about evolving and embracing new desires.

Q: What affirmations do you use?

A: Since I had a multitude of desires in various aspects of my life, I found it tiring to have a separate affirmation for each one. So, I opted for general affirmations that encompassed all areas of my life. For example, I would affirm statements like "I am the luckiest person alive," "Everything works out my way," and "I always get my desires." These affirmations can be applied to all aspects of life, including school. The key is to find affirmations that resonate with you and create a positive mindset.

Q: How do you manage the law/shifting and school?

A: As I mentioned earlier, integration is the key! You don't have to view manifestation or shifting as something separate from your school life. Instead, incorporate these practices seamlessly into your daily routine. The goal is to make it a part of your lifestyle without feeling like it's an extra burden or sacrifice. For example, if a certain method, like wbtb lucid dreaming, is disrupting your sleep schedule, consider switching to other methods like subliminals or reality checks. You can still set intentions before going to bed, which will be effective without compromising your sleep. Find what works best for you and strike a balance between school, manifestation, and your mental health

Q: What to do if affirmations don’t work:

A:maybe you don’t think with words. I’m more of a visual person and will always believe and like images more than words. I would just imagine my grades always being an A. No matter what, no matter if I failed a test or forgot to submit a homework even if I failed everything I still got an A! If you don’t like to visualize then change your wording to how you naturally speak. Maybe you don’t even like affirmations, it’s really different for everyone.

Q:I don’t want to go to this college but I still have to apply, is that affecting living in the end:

A: nope I don’t think taking action or not taking action affects anything If you’re living in the end. Just because you apply doesn’t mean you’ll get in simply because you took the action. Do what you have to do it doesn’t matter if you’re living your 3D life but know imagination is your true reality. If you’re a billionaire and sleep in a homeless shelter that doesn’t take away from the fact you’re a billionaire. Who knows why you’re at a homeless shelter and who knows why you’re applying for college. It doesn’t dictate anything.

Q:I needed to get into the void before college but now I’m here without my dream life and I hate it. What do I do:

A: well it’s happened so take a deep breath. You can still master the void, in fact you already have you’re just being silly and want a funny humbling story. There is no better time than now to be delulu. When you’re trying to escape something and it passes accept it and make it your bitch tbh. honestly keeping busy definitely helped me in my journey anyways, but I did provide tips above so you have free time because you shouldn’t just be immersed in school. For example when I was poor, it was because I needed a humbling back story because no one likes people born into wealth. I’m assuming you still want to be in college, and yea, it’s just cool to have started from the bottom before you become that It girl. That’s your choice and your truth but now you’re done with being humble so go tap into the void.

Q: what’s your perspective on manifesting a perfect life. like nothing bad ever happens but also having a good life with just minor challenges (nothing too big) and I don’t wanna normalize suffering bc who wants to suffer?

A: ok this had a school ask but that was just the gist of it. anyways not that my opinion matters first and foremost. But I think that’s great. Who wants to suffer… exactly. You know I like being human, but I did not like my human experience before Loa. I do like challenges, I like growth, I like not being perfect, and I like being happy and getting what I want too! you can still have all those human aspects and manifest everything you desire. Mary Sues do don’t exist because humanity exists. Don’t worry about it. Your life won’t feel stagnant or unreal or something, I promise

Ok sorry this came out longer than I expected but I had a lot to say. I hope that answers all the asks I’ve been getting ! You all got this, college, your manifesting journey, your anxiety, all of it. All of your dreams & desires are within your reach (right in front of you !!!) so go for it and still live your best life <3!

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #my asks #void state #shiftblr #reality shifting #school #hot girl scholar 👩‍🏫 #college

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

BY ANY OTHER NAME!

kaiser wasn’t someone to ever beg for anything. no—if there was something he wanted, he got it. it was as easy as that. but much to his shock, your heart wasn’t something you would hand over to him willy-nilly. it looked like he was going to have to work from the very bottom: starting with his name.

gender neutral reader

Kaiser was used to netting all sorts of reactions from people. Some adored him faithfully. Some wanted nothing to do with him. Some were even bold enough to chew up their disgust and spit it distastefully in front of him. He never paid them any mind. But the truth of the matter was that Kaiser was used to drawing out all sorts of intense emotions from everyone around him. He didn’t care if they loved him or hated him. Mediocrity was not a reality for him.

At least, before he came across you.

You were probably the first and only person in the world to be so neutral towards him. You were kind, never causing any trouble, and doing everything you could to stay off of his radar. It wasn’t like you were going out of your way to avoid him or to catch his eye; you simply treated him as if he were just an average run-of-the-mill person.

You were polite. Not out of respect towards him but out of obligation.

And that would be all fun and dandy, had it not been for the fact that Kaiser had fallen madly in love with that apathetic, monotone attitude of yours. It was 100% because of how you approached him at an arm’s length. It frustrated him to all hell. It’d be one thing if you couldn’t stand the sight of his face and went around huffing and puffing about how you hated his smug attitude or egotistical personality, because then he’d know that he had some kind of influence on you.

But a nonchalant reaction that had him keeling over and overthinking every little thing he said towards you? Calling it pure torture for him would be an understatement.

“Lovely work today, Alexis. I made sure to leave an extra water bottle in the locker room since you asked,” you greeted the Bastard Munchen players as they left the playing field. The magenta-haired boy ducked his head gracefully, beaming at you as he bumped your outstretched fist.

“And you too, Benedict!” You offered the fair-haired player a bright smile and a matching fist bump. Grim murmured some dramatic monologue about the despair of warmth and its depravity, but from the way his eyes twinkled at seeing you, you assumed that he was just as happy to have your support.

“And finally, we have you, Erik!” You welcomed the foul-mouth midfielder. He pretended to scowl at you, but you quickly morphed his scorn into a rare smile when you nudged him gently with your arm. “C’mon, you made some impressive plays today! I can’t wait to see what you do in the upcoming games!”

Last but not least, the king of the pitch himself, the self-proclaimed protagonist of the theater that the soccer world was, Kaiser leisurely strolled off of the playing field. It made his stomach turn inside out with envy to see you bantering with his teammates so casually, but what really drove the jealousy home was something else altogether. With his nose held high and his sky blue eyes fixed on you, he stepped to where you were waiting for the team off to the side.

He knew it was foolish to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help himself from going all out in each of the games he played in, especially when Kaiser knew that you’d be watching it in real time. Maybe, just maybe, if he went above and beyond what he normally did, you’d finally be amazed at his skills and come to your senses about what an irreplaceably talented striker he was. Then, you’d fall head over heels for him as all his admirers do…

He stopped in front of you with his signature smirk, hands stuffed in his pockets as he waited for you to shower him with praises. Well, he didn’t even need you to fall to your knees in utter worship of him; just your usual banter with the other Bastard Munchen athletes would have been more than enough to satisfy the lovestruck blond.

You didn’t skip a beat at shattering his fantasies. “Can I help you, Kaiser?” 

Kaiser choked back a cough, flicking part of his long hair back in order to mask the completely pathetic face he nearly made. “Darling! Is that all you have to say to someone who scored all the goals in today’s game?”

You tilted your head to the side. “Isn’t it your job to score though?”

God. It’d be one thing if you were saying these things simply to spite him, riling up his temper in order to get some kind of reaction out of him. But when he looked at your face, he couldn’t detect a single hint of malice on your features. You were doing what you were told: taking care of him. No more and no less.

This was the face of someone who did not care about him, whether that be positive or negative. You had no opinion on him. Period.

His heart sank to his stomach, but Kaiser kept up his cool front. He shrugged as he turned to you, a coy grin dancing on his face. “Still, it’s not an easy job. Wouldn’t hurt to get a little sweetness from you every now and then.”

You frowned slightly, as if you were thinking over his words. “I… think I’m doing an adequate job at taking care of you and the team. If you have any issues with my performance, then I appreciate you looking out for me. But that’s something you should take up with Noel Noa or Bastard Munchen’s greater management.”

Kaiser felt his body stiffen, his grin etched onto his stone face. He had braced himself to be shut down, but never before had someone shut him down so professionally.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” he purred. You surveyed him with your usual expressionless eyes as he came up next to you. Casually swinging an arm over your shoulders and dragging you close to him, he winked at you sweetly. “Your work has been nothing short of excellent.”

You put your hand on top of his arm, doing your best to nudge him off. Kaiser kept his Cheshire Cat-like smile, refusing to take himself off of you. You bit down on your tongue, wondering if you should stand your ground and yank him off of your shoulders, but you wisely decided that getting physical with a professional athlete was probably not a fight that was in your favor.

“Then I don’t see why we need to be talking. The locker rooms are to your right, Kaiser.” You avoided looking at him. It wasn’t like you were doing it knowingly, but Kaiser whimpered inwardly at the lack of your attention. It was like you weren’t even giving him the satisfaction of eye contact. 

He pouted like a little child. “See? It’s that right there.”

“It’s what right there?” You repeated. The confusion in your voice was so thick that it was nearly tangible, and Kaiser puffed his cheeks out. Normally he wouldn’t mind having his fun in flustering someone up: teasing them over their mistakes, flaunting himself as the superior one, and devouring all the delicious reactions he managed to milk out of them.

But trying to convince you to see eye-to-eye with him was downright embarrassing for him. Never before had he courted someone so oblivious, someone so downright unaware of his feelings, so casually cruel to the one-sided crush he was fostering. He couldn’t even get mad at you for your behavior too, because you genuinely didn’t know.

Kaiser hated groveling for scraps of your attention, but the boy was sick of being treated like a responsibility. Why did his teammates get to soak up all of your care and affection while he was left watching from the sidelines, licking his own emotional wounds while he could only imagine that it was you cheering him on after a game or complimenting his plays?

If this was the angle you were going to play at, then so be it. He was starved enough, and it was obvious that playing it cool wasn’t getting him anywhere.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, sighing dramatically against your shoulder. You froze, your body noticeably stiffening up at the sudden gesture, and you dug your heels into the floor to prevent him from dragging more of himself onto you. Lucky for you, that was the most he did, but you gritted your teeth and refused to loosen up.

He must have lost his mind.

“You’re so cold to me,” he whined. “I know it’s not your job to baby me or anything, but… You’re so nice and sweet to everyone else. Even now! You complimented everyone after the game, and you smiled at them. You look so happy talking to them, but when you talk to me, it’s like you can’t wait to get me out of your hair.”

You sucked your lips in, and you kept your expression as unreadable as always. “I’m being professional. I don’t mean to do anything to spite you specifically, Kaiser-”

“-See, you’re doing it again!” His face shot up from your body. You knew you shouldn’t give him any more of your attention, but you almost instinctively turned your neck to look at him. You were shocked to see how wide his blue eyes were, his irises trembling. He looked nothing like the powerful and self-aggrandizing striker that you were so used to. All of his confidence and swagger had disappeared, leaving nothing more than a desperate boy clinging off of you. “You don’t even call me by name.”

You were at a loss for words. “I-I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m not asking for much, I promise,” he breathed. His voice sounded tentative, a hushed whisper that you could barely make out. “It’d be nice if you could banter and play around with me like you do everyone else, but god… At least say my name.”

He didn’t want anything else. He didn’t want to be known as anything else to you. Not as the New Generation World Eleven’s star striker. Not as Bastard Munchen’s number 10. Not as Kaiser.

But as Michael.

You swallowed back all the alarms going off in your head. There would be nothing good that could come from getting close to someone like him, someone who practically had everything in the palm of his hand, someone who would take your heart and mercilessly crush it under his heel if that was what he wanted to do, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to keep your usual cool level-headedness when he looked like he was on the brink of tears, a hair’s breadth away from your face.

How could you not crumble? That’d be too heartless, even for you.

“...I’ll try to do better. Thanks for letting me know. And I’m sorry you felt that way, Kai- Michael,” you corrected with an awkward cough. The light returned to his face right away, and before you could even finish your statement, his cheeks were rosy and full of life once more.

That was the first time you had said his name to his face. The literal choirs of Heaven couldn’t compare to how sweet your voice sounded to his ears, the syllables of his name rolling off your tongue like liquid gold. He didn’t care if he was being overly cheesy; he had dreamed of the very day that you would look him in the face and actually regard him like he was a human being.

You finally let your body relax, softening up just the slightest bit under his body weight, and you let out a breath you weren’t aware that you were holding. But before you could even fully relax, the blond was peering at you with another fox-like smile tugging at his lips. Undoubtedly with another scheme brewing in his mind, you wondered if you had made the wrong decision just now. Any hint of his previous remorse was gone, nowhere to be found.

“So…,” he trailed off, snickering to himself, “Now that we’re on a first-name basis, do you wanna pick out pet names for each other next?”

Your blood ran cold, and you thought about choking the striker for a split second. So much for feeling pity towards him. Loosening up was definitely the wrong decision.

But unfortunately, you had given him an inch, and Michael was determined to take the whole mile.

x

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #SOMEONE SAVE ME FROM THIS MAN I CANT GET HIM OFF OF MY HEAD

[melancholicmaxine]

Enough for me. (Roy Kent x Fem!Reader)

pairing: (Coach) Roy Kent x Fem. reader

word count: 824 words.

warnings: roy being sad/doubting himself, roy x reader fluff, reader comforting roy, slight sexual themes suggested (near the end), roy hating on trent crimm

a/n: hi!! this is my first ever fic so... pls be gentle. this fic is based on season 3 episode 2 of ted lasso. thanks for clicking on my post out of the millions, i appreciate you :)

summary: roy comes home, frustrated and in need of some comfort after a confrontation with trent crimm about the column he wrote on roy's premier league debut.

It was a normal day- mundane if anything. You had not too long ago returned home from work, now lazily being slumped over the couch scrolling on social media. Your shared home with the newest coach of AFC Richmond was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Roy, you expected, would be home soon, probably coming through the door stringing curses together. Something of course happened at work, the only question was who exactly he would be pissed at this time.

Just as the scenario of an angry Roy played in your head, he walked through the door. You chirped up, happy to see him after a long day, when you noticed the down look of his face. It was less angry and more...disappointed? "Hey, Roy" You spoke, gently due to the unawareness of what was happening. As you stood up and walked toward him, his eyes planted on the ground, you noticed closer the expression splayed on his face. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed to be in a deep solemn thought. It was only when you lightly touched his harm that he seemed to snap out of his thoughts.

You offered him a comforting smile, "You alright? Talk to me." After you spoke, you moved behind him, beginning to take of his coat. "I don't know." He finally spoke, his tone being gentle. Silence filled the air for a brief moment until he spoke again, "Can I ask you something?" He was now meeting your gaze. "You know you can."

"Do you think I'm good? Like, good enough?" What? A puzzled look fell over your face, and he spoke again before you got the chance to. "I don't know- fuck. It's hard to explain." His gaze diverted once again, now focusing on his fingernails he softly picked at. "Roy, I'm not sure what's going on, but you can talk to me. What happened today?"

"Today was fucking fine. It was normal until that prick Crimm had to interfere." he paused, alternating his eyes from you and the floor, "It's bad enough he prances around the fucking place like he owns it, but today he just had to come talk to me and shit." He picked at his fingernails, a little rougher this time, and you could tell he was wallowing in a mixture of hate for both Crimm and what had gone down today.

You knew he wasn't very fond of Crimm, but not exactly why. You had always figured it was because he was a-in his words-pretentious dick. But this was deeper than that, you just had a feeling. You shot Roy a concerned look. He slowly reached for his wallet and drew out a slip of paper, placing it in your hand and urging you to read it.

What welcomed you was a small excerpt claiming "Newcomer Roy Kent is an overhyped, so-called prodigy whose unbridled rage and mediocre talent rendered his Premiere League debut a profound disappointment.” As soon as you read it, you shot Roy a sad glance. You were angry for him, not believing someone had the will to write such negativity.

"Crimm wrote that." He paused to take the small slip out of your hand. "I was 17, and I had just started playing. Seven fucking teen." He gritted his teeth, grimacing. You rubbed his arm, waiting for him to start again. "I have been living my life since then feeling like I was shit. Then today Crimm revealed he did it just to be 'edgy' and make a name for himself."

Not knowing exactly what to say, you continued to rub his arm. "Roy I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the dejection you’ve been feeling all these years.” He gave you a weird look, a mixture of solemn and happy.

“You know what I really can’t believe? I kind of want to forgive his ass.” You were shocked at what you could assume was Ted’s influence. “Really?” He nodded. “As much as I don’t want to fucking admit it, yeah. He was trying to do his job I guess. I just wish he would have picked on..some other prick, I don’t know.” He was now stifling chuckles, just as shocked from the situation.

“You know what Roy?” you spoke, not breaking eye contact. “Hm?” He tilted his head. “I’m proud of you for coming to that conclusion. You could have blown up, yeah? Been angry, upset. But you handled it all well.” Your graze moving up from his arm, now on his cheek. A good minute passed as you enjoyed holding his rough face.

He leaned down to kiss you. It was gentle and sweet, spreading a honeyed heat through your being. He continued placing small kisses on your face, your neck. Slowly turning into esurient nibbles.

“I fucking love you.” He spoke through kisses.

“I love you too.” You felt him smile against your skin. “And Roy?”

“Mhm?”

“You will always be enough for me. Always.”

#ted lasso #roy kent #roy kent x reader #trent crimm #ted lasso fic #apple tv #fanfiction #trent #crimm #roy #kent

[tarotwithlove]

PICK-A-CARD 🪼ೕ single since birth · your first partner (suggested by anon)

in today’s pac we will be answering the following questions regarding your first relationship:

- how will you meet this person?

- what will your first impression of each other be?

- what will your relationship be like?

- physical attributes and other identifying factors.

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards pulled: justice (reversed), eight of pentacles, eight of pentacles (reversed), eight of cups (reversed), four of wands (reversed), seven of pentacles (reversed), nine of pentacles, seven of swords, king of wands (reversed). 

channelled songs: let me down slowly by alec benjamin. not mine by day6. wake up by bahja rodriguez. amusement park by baekhyun.

my dear group one ♡ you and this person may meet in an environment that is strict, with a lot of rules and regulations. this, of course, pertains to academic and professional settings, like a class or office place. but i am also getting that you may meet while playing a game (physical, not a video game) or at an adventure park that you may visit with friends, or friends and friends of friends. this meeting will be quite coincidental, and will make you both feel as if it is thanks to fate that your paths crossed. interestingly enough—and only for some of you—you may part ways for some time and reunite a few months or even years later. this may, then, be someone you have already met and parted ways with.

the first impression that you and your first partner have of each other is that you’re equally as inept when it comes to interpersonal relationships—and not just with regard to love and romantic relationships. your first conversations may be awkward, with your person often stumbling over their words and saying things they later regret because of how overwhelmed and intimidated they feel in the moment. this won’t be anything bad per se, rather them telling stupid jokes, sharing random facts, or going on long spiels about their interests, in ways that you might enjoy or find endearing but that make them slap their head and ask “why did i say that??” as soon as they’re alone. you may start off thinking of this person as someone who is intelligent yet otherwise mediocre while your first partner’s first impression of you may be that you are somewhat of an insecure person who doesn’t see their own attractiveness.

in this relationship, your person may be doing most of the work. they may reach out first, ask you out first, and take most of the control, but i feel as if it is done willingly because they have more romantic experience than you. kind of like, showing you the ropes. but it’s also as if they want to spoil you as much as possible because of how long they had been waiting to be in this relationship with you; because of how long they had been waiting to have you as their partner. this relationship may also be one in which you feel comfortable enough to explore your sexuality, especially in a way you haven’t been able to in the past because of your single status. though, of course, it comes with its own hardships. you may be closed off and aloof because of how unfamiliar romantic relationships are for you, often pushing your partner to the limits of their patience.

this person may have prominent cancer, aquarius, and/or virgo placements. they may be south asian, southeast asian (of south asian or southeast asian descent) with light to dark brown skin even if they are of a different race or ethnicity. they may have an emotionless look about them—kind of like a “resting bitch face”, with any sternness dissipating the moment that they smile. this person may also be energetic and physically fit; they may like to exercise and spend time outdoors, in particular, they may enjoy hiking, canoeing, and rowing. they also give off an effortlessly confident energy, as if they know who they are and what they stand for and, thus, could not be bothered by anyone else’s opinions of them.

GROUP TWO

cards pulled: eight of swords (reversed), nine of wands, justice (reversed), the hanged man, seven of cups (reversed), knight of wands, nine of wands, the hermit, six of cups (reversed).

channelled songs: you give good love by whitney houston. million dollar man by lana del rey. why didn’t you stop me? by mitski. u by baekhyun.

my dear group two ♡ you and this person may meet in a medical or stressful environment. for some, you may meet in the waiting area of a hospital or airport. this will be stressful either because someone is in labour or because a flight has been delayed (likely due to weather). you may end up chatting with this person to pass the time, and because i feel that they are more extroverted than you it may be them who starts the conversation.

your first impression of this person will likely be more a distant observation that they seem frantic and full of panicked energy. you will likely notice them pacing across the room, on the phone as they try to explain their situation to someone or try to close a business deal despite how hectic everything around them is. you may be fully absorbed in a book until they grab your attention with their movements and the hushed sound of their hurried conversation, yet once they do grab your attention it’s hard to take your eyes off them. you’ll probably keep peeking at them out of curiosity, occasionally accidentally making and breaking eye contact until they finish and eventually sit down beside you. their first impression of you may be that you're the complete opposite of them, in attitude and in appearance. you are likely more down-to-earth, humble and introverted… i’m not too familiar with bridget jones as a character but i’m also being urged to say that you’re likely more of a “bridget jones type” (maybe more physically than in personality, for some). or at least that is their first impression of you. they may initially see you as an intellectual and calm person, as someone with whom they can have a nice, distracting conversation. they will be drawn to you because, in that moment, they need a bit of the calm that you exude.

your relationship may be one that causes you a certain amount of stress. your first partner is likely someone who is fairly busy, business-oriented, and wealthy. they prioritise work and their image, because in their line of work image is what gets them the furthest. because of this, they may push you to change the way you dress or get you to join them in the gym or in participating in physically exhaustive activities. this person will push you to grow in many ways, and while you may learn new things about yourself in this relationship, and get new opportunities through this relationship, it may come to a point where it overwhelms and stresses you out more than anything. like i said, this person is very focused on their image, they are incredibly appearance-focused, in such a way that might do nothing more than make you self-conscious and insecure at every moment. your partner may also spend a lot of time travelling for work and, as they are quite attractive and outgoing, you may find yourself growing anxious that they will cheat on you while they’re away from you.

in this relationship, and as your anxiety grows, you may find yourself doing things and agreeing to things out of a fear that if you do not you will lose your person—such as dyeing your hair, getting surgery or dental work, losing/gaining weight, and/or moving somewhere to be closer to them.

your first partner may be someone who is quite a bit older than you. i’m getting the words “father figure” so they might be 40-50+ and have children—even if they are younger than this, they may still have children or a child. they may have prominent sagittarius and/or pisces placements, and are likely of greek, italian, or south asian descent. physically, they may be lean and taller than you. sometimes you may look at them and think about how they could have been a model, and actually could still be a model if they decided to go that route. they also likely look younger than they actually are, or they carry themselves in such a way that subverts your expectations of age and what it actually means to grow older. professionally, they may be a lawyer or senior executive who is now making a change in their career, such as starting a business of their own or going into a more artsy career, such as film direction.

GROUP THREE

cards pulled: five of cups, nine of pentacles, eight of cups, six of cups (reversed), ten of wands (reversed), two of swords (reversed), nine of wands (reversed), ten of wands, the tower, eight of cups (reversed), the moon, four of wands (reversed), four of pentacles. 

channelled songs: first to last by danger incorporated. no choir by florence + the machine. nobody by miraa may. un village by baekhyun.

my dear group three ♡ you may meet at a particularly bad time in both of your lives, or at a place that brings back more ‘bad’, stressful, and embarrassing memories than anything else, such as at a college or university. or in the aftermath of graduating from college or university, or in the aftermath of leaving a stressful job. for some, you may meet at a club, gathering, or after a night out that leaves you moody and hungover. meeting them may make you feel hopeful about life again; as if all your stresses are manageable because this person is in your life.

your first impression of this person may be a fleeting one. you probably see them around town, or notice them as they pass you by without thinking too much, only to have a “hey! i think i know you!” moment when you actually meet for the first time. you may think of them as someone who is busy and motivated, but also closed-off and in their own little world. likely because they are always rushing around, and don’t divulge more than they actually need to in any given situation. you may also think of them as intimidating because they are so much more mature and put together than you are—or, at least, that is how you see them from your first impression of them.

the messages for this group are kind of hard to get out, as if your first impressions of each other are far too flimsy and ephemeral…

when it comes to your first partner’s first impression of you, it is likely that they see you as someone who is overworked and overburdened. they may see you in a place of transit, such as an airport or bus station, and think that you must be so overwhelmed with the amount of bags you are carrying. their first impression of you might not be all too pleasant, maybe thinking of you as dishevelled or not well put together because when they first see you it is at a particularly ill-opportune time, only for this impression to change when you actually meet for the first time. they may initially think of you as an argumentative person who picks fights, judges others over their perceived flaws, and gossips needlessly. they may initially think of you as unintellectual and, to some extent, below them or just not their type.

this may not only be your first relationship, but also your first love and the first time you’ve felt so strongly about another person. you may have had crushes in the past, but these are nothing in comparison to the depth of what you feel for your first partner, to the extent that it might actually shock you and leave you questioning what exactly these feelings are. it is likely that you will end up marrying this person, but the more serious this relationship becomes the more you may find yourself disengaging and pushing your person away. the moment it clicks for you that this may be permanent and not just a fleeting or casual relationship, may be the very moment you start to subconsciously self-sabotage.

this relationship will push you to face your own hang-ups and beliefs about relationships, love, and marriage. it will also push you to be more mature in that you will have to voice your upsets and disagreements, make compromises, and be brave instead of running away when times get tough. this relationship will change you into a better person, in many ways. it is a relationship that will help you to reach your full potential, both in your romantic and professional life. especially in your professional life, as this person will ensure that you follow your dreams and take risks in your career you may be too scared to take. this person may come from a strict background, or a background where they felt they were never loved or supported enough, and that is why they are so vocal in their love and support of you. they are purposeful to not replicate those same patterns in your relationship—most of all because they want to have children with you, want to be the best possible parent, and want to create a loving family and home.

when it comes to your person’s appearance, they may be a bit insecure about what they look like–at least in some way. despite this, they still look after their appearance and make sure they look neat and representable. they likely have long, thick hair and/or a well-kept beard and crooked or discoloured teeth. they likely have clear, glowy, brown or sunkissed skin or a glow about them that gives them a calm, happy look. they may also be buddhist, or someone who considers themselves more spiritual than religious. for some, i’m getting that they’re someone who finds god in nature and in everything all around them. they’re also a huge nature and animal lover! professionally, there’s a fun little mix of careers here... for some, this person may be a bit of a transient, enjoying life instead of jumping into a career. they might be a surfer who works on the beach or by the seaside, taking any job that comes their way. in other cases, they may be a student or someone who is more concerned with academia and their education than with a job. they may also plan to be a teacher or divorce lawyer, if they are not already one.

GROUP FOUR

cards pulled: eight of wands (reversed), ten of cups, ten of wands, eight of cups (reversed), five of cups, seven of pentacles, strength, ace of swords, ace of cups (reversed), king of wands (reversed), strength.

channelled songs: river by maya b. cozy by beyoncé. priority by ré lxuise. dreamer by nct 127.

my dear group four ♡ before i even started to pull your cards the word “malayalam” came to mind, so you may meet this person in kerala, india, or in a language or cultural exchange group. this may also just be a language either you or both of you speak! you and this person may meet in an environment that you are wholly familiar and comfortable with; in your city where you often travel, at a class, or at a wedding. the movie comrades: almost a love story actually also comes to mind, so you might meet this person as they look for new connections, friends, and other resources in a city with which they are entirely unfamiliar. you may speak a bit of their language, at least enough to communicate what’s necessary, and may also be able to help them learn the language of your new city.

your first impression of this person will kind of be that they’re a lost puppy, all shy and confused and much like you when you were first learning to stand on your own two feet. you may feel a responsibility over them and want to look after them, or at least help them settle in because of how alone and without support they seem to be. i also get the feeling that they aren’t dressed appropriately for the city’s weather—for example, they may be wearing a turtleneck and a coat because the winter they’re used to is not at all like the winter in this city. with all this combined, it might be more apt to say that your first impression of your first partner is one of pity and sympathy. you may have both moved to this city, or you may have similar experience with being out of your comfort zone and eventually settling in, which makes this person almost instantly feel safe around you. as this is a first impression, you may not even have to say anything, but they may instinctively know that you and they are the same in some way. they may also admire you from the very first meeting. you’ve managed to build a life for yourself in a way they can only wish to.

it's interesting that we have strength and the ace of swords for what your relationship will be like, so you and this person are likely both equally determined, hard-headed or, for lack of another word, dominant. while at first you may think of this person as defenceless, the more comfortable you become with each other and the more comfortable they become in their surroundings, the more you’ll start to see that they are anything but. and that’s not to say that they are violent or anything bad like that, but rather that you may be so similar that you often challenge each other and get on each other’s nerves. you both are heavily focused on your own goals and, so, without even really needing to discuss it or worry about it, you may both come to the agreement that the relationship comes second and your own personal careers and achievements come first. it’s likely that this relationship is a short-term one. you both provide each other with exactly what you need in this period of your lives (comfort, companionship, understanding) but will outgrow each other once this has passed.

this person may have prominent water or fire placements. they either have very pale or very dark skin. whatever facial features they have are kind of turned up to a 100, for example they could be a white european with bright blue eyes and thin, blond hair or an indian with dark skin, a hooked nose and thick hair, or a black american with dark skin, a wide nose, and big lips (etc). it might be most succinct to say that they have pronounced features or a “stereotypical” appearance—especially one that stands out in the city that they have moved to. and this doesn’t go for race and ethnicity alone, but for gender too and the way that they express their gender—for example, if they are a stud or a butch lesbian they are very stereotypical in how they dress and carry themselves.

and that’s not to say it’s a bad thing, obviously! it’s just an observation. in the case of gender, in particular, it may even be a dolly parton/bruce springsteen situation, where they play into gender stereotypes and use gender as a performance. professionally, this person is incredibly skilled, talented and educated, but may be unemployed when you meet them.

#** #tarot #pac #pick a card #pick a group #pick an image #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarotonline #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #channelled message #channeled message #love reading #tarot reading #tarot readings #future partner #love tarot reading #love tarot

[t-lostinworlds]

I Spy, No Spy | Peter Parker

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

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

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

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

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

✘ MOODBOARD

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

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ PETER PARKER MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

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

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

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

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

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

"Good morning, Peter."

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

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

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

Well, so much for his plans to relax.

"Got it, FRIDAY."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were incredible.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hi, Pete."

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

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

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

"After you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter couldn't stop his smile.

He always found your thinking face adorable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thanks," Peter hummed, smiling.

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

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

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

"You got the spirit," Peter chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And the card?" Peter asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Captain."

•••

The hotel suite was fancy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Need help?"

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

Wow.

Oh wow you looked gorgeous in red.

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

"Wow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But oh did the pride bubble in his chest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's beautiful."

"It looks even more beautiful on you."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's."

•••

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

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

"I'm not—"

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

Right. Fake identities.

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

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

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

"Thank you, my love," you giggled.

My love.

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

It's pretend. Get a grip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Future husband.

God how Peter wished for that to be true.

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

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

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

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

Not too far off from reality.

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

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

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

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

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

Peter was so sure his face had gone so red.

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

You smiled. "Of course."

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

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

Peter's heart quickened.

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

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

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

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

He gulped, nodding before letting out a shaky breath.

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

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

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

•••

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Parker, can you hear me?"

"Aye, aye, Captain," he muttered.

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

"My, aren't you two cute."

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

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

Peter's heart fluttered at that.

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

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

"Aye, aye, Captain."

"Jesus Christ."

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

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

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

•••

Peter was so far out of his element.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was what he told himself, anyway.

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

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

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

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

So that's your fake name.

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

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

Halbert? What kind of name is that?

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

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

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

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

"Why, thank you, monsieur."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have a lovely night, madem—"

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

So…he didn't quite think this through.

Peter had no idea how to dance.

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

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

Peter cleared his throat, "Something wrong?"

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

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

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

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

Peter believed it was both.

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

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

Peter blushed.

Jealous. Not angry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter blinked. "Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, he felt bold, confident.

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

Perhaps it was everything all at once.

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

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

Peter reveled in the way your smile got shy.

"You've said that already."

"Once will never be enough."

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

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

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

"Ahem."

You both jerked back, eyes wide with surprise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You just had to cockblock—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Cheesy, but it works," he finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You look parched, my darling."

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

But she likes your accent more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lucas Reid."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oh yes, very good things," she giggled, hand on his thigh as she leaned forward with a smirk. Winking, she added, "Naughty ones, too."

Peter gulped as he leaned back.

"O-Oh, uh—"

"Lucas."

He quickly spun around on his stool to the sound of your voice, facing you fully. His eyes widened in surprise as you gently nudged his knees apart but he didn't even hesitate to make room for you to stand in between. He placed his hands on your hips when you pulled him closer, your arms snaking around his neck.

Peter didn't know exactly what was going on, but he certainly wasn't complaining. Besides, like he said before, he would always follow your lead.

Yet still, he looked up at you in both curiosity and confusion, trying to gauge what was going through your mind. But you certainly were better at reading people than he was. Or perhaps that was you simply being a master at masking your emotions. Because apart from the slight edge on your smile, he was coming up empty.

"You must be Amelia," Greta interrupted.

Your grip on Peter's shoulder tightened, eyes rolling with a scowl before you turned to Greta with a forced smile. "Yes, hi."

Peter's brows raised at your uninterested tone, even more when you didn't even bother prolonging the conversation as you turned back to him, body leaning closer.

Interesting…

"Can you help me find the bathroom?" you purred, tone seductively sweet to match the implication of your words. You pressed your chest against his, faces only inches apart as your fingers played with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

Peter short circuited.

He merely stared at you in awe, blood growing hot, heart pumping erratically as his grip on your waist tightened.

Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't at the least bit turned on.

"Please?" you added with a pout when he didn't manage to speak for a good few seconds.

It was the slight pinch on his skin that snapped him out of it.

"Of course, my love," he said, clearing the lump in his throat as he hastily stood up.

Peter wasn't even given the time to get his bearings straight when you immediately took his hand in yours, pulling him away from the bar and down the hallway. He squinted at the sudden brightness of the ceiling lights, greatly illuminating the cream wallpaper with intricate gold-colored patterns, similar crown molding from those in the ballroom, and various paintings hanging on the walls for guests to admire. The space was obviously still for public access, but it was relatively empty.

Once you two were alone, you didn't bother hiding your emotions. And Peter could clearly tell that you were angry.

It was making him slightly nervous.

"Is everything okay?"

You ignored him.

Peter frowned when pulled your hand from his and put some distance between you. He watched as you tensely opened a metal door, entering in haste without looking back. He ran after you to avoid getting locked out, the two of you entering another much smaller hallway that could only fit one person at a time. It was more of a tunnel, to be honest.

He never liked it when you were upset, especially during a high-risk mission. But most of all, he hated disappointing you, and with the way you were acting, he could only assume he'd done something wrong.

Peter was hot on your tail, carefully watching your every sharp turn, just to make sure he wasn't going to lose you. Though, it wasn't long until you two emerged into a hallway that was similar to before.

You were staring straight ahead, heels clicking angrily as the skirt of your dress rapidly swished with every harsh step.

Oh you were pissed.

"Did I do something?"

"You shouldn't be distracted on the job," you said, tone clipped.

"But I wasn't distracted," he defended, his frown deepening.

"Flirting, distracted, same thing," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. "It's not the time to woo girls. This is not a frat party."

Flirting? Woo girls?

"But I wasn't flirt—wait," he paused, his smile breaking out as realization dawned on him.

He could be quite oblivious sometimes, but he was not dumb. This wasn't going over his head, not when the way you were acting looked far too familiar. He'd seen the same thing happen only a couple of minutes ago, after all.

Because you weren't angry. 

Much like how he wasn't angry moments before your dance.

Peter stopped, looking at you carefully with arms crossed over his chest, smirking as he quoted your words,

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're jealous."

You halted in your tracks, shoulders straightening with a huff before you continued walking.

It told Peter everything he needed to know.

He couldn't wipe off his smirk, pride bubbling in his chest, confidence boosted that little bit more as he jogged after you.

"There's going to be two guards at the door," you instructed monotonously once he reached your side, eyes avoiding him. "I'll distract one. You take care of the other one."

Peter stood straighter with a salute, still grinning from ear to ear.

"Yes ma'am."

You rolled your eyes, but he didn't miss the way the corner of your lips quirked up.

•••

"Excuse me, ma'am, this area is restricted."

"Oh, dear! My apologies, is this not where the bathroom is?" you gasped, and Peter was impressed at how clueless you sounded. If he didn't know you beforehand, he never would've guessed that you'd be one of the most elite and smartest spies there ever was. "Would either of you fine gentlemen guide me to where it is?"

Peter heard the two guards grumble before one spoke up gruffly, "Go. I've got this covered,"

"Yay!" you giggled, clapping your hands excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

Peter couldn't stop his grin at how cute you were.

When you and the other guard were out of sight, Peter made a run for it. Guard Two only caught a split-second glimpse of him before his fist harshly connected with their jaw, wincing when he heard a faint crack.

"Sorry," Peter whispered with a grimace, standing straight and adjusting his glasses. "Didn't mean to hit that hard."

He quickly turned towards the sound of grunts and hisses, fists colliding against muscles and then a body falling onto the floor. He rushed towards where you disappeared, entering the hallway just in time to see you fixing up your dress. Your eyes met his when he walked over to you, your smile sweet yet proud.

"Need a lil help carrying this guy," you said, gesturing behind you.

He nodded with a chuckle, eyes trained on your face once he reached your side before his brows furrowed.

"You got a little—" Before he could think about it, he reached a hand up, thumb rubbing over the corner of your mouth, attempting to get rid of the smudged lipstick.

He couldn't help but stare, easily putting him in a trance as he smoothed his thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it away slightly before letting it plop back, your warm breath tickling his skin when your lips parted.

Your little outburst of jealousy earlier might've boosted his confidence a lot more than he'd initially let on.

"Peter," you murmured. "The guard."

"Oh! Right," he cleared his throat, moving over to the unconscious guard, hauling them over his shoulder effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. He walked over to the second guard, doing the same over his other shoulder. When he turned around, he saw you standing there, brow raised. He shrugged, smirking. "Super strength."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes, "Show off."

Peter laughed.

After carrying both guards into the room—unlocked thanks to their keycards and fingerprints—you busied yourself with their weapons.

Peter was looking through the various crates and boxes, all labeled with familiar and not-so-familiar logos, some in different languages, while others were completely blank. Some items weren't hidden at all, from high-tech guns in glass displays to alien guns in wooden crates, various iterations of vibranium shields, and holy shit, is that a Wakandan spear?

"Where the hell did they get all of these? This is so much ammo in one room—"

Peter's words died in his throat when his eyes landed on you.

You were leaning over, one foot resting on one of the boxes on the floor, your fingers grazing your leg as you carefully pulled your skirt up inch by tempting inch until your thigh was exposed to him. Your gun holster later came into view, the straps squeezing the supple flesh tightly and fuck—

Peter had never wanted to be an inanimate object so badly ever in his life.

He quickly averted his gaze when you pulled your skirt back down. He pretended to read the labels on some crates as he cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt because Jesus it's getting really hot in here.

"Take this," you said, walking over to him with your hand extended, your fingers curled around the barrel of a gun.

Peter's eyes widened as he looked at the gun and then at you. "We haven't gotten to this part of my training yet."

"Come on, you've seen some movies."

"Since when did movies become tutorials?"

You stared at him for a moment, shaking your head with a chuckle before holding up the gun before him to demonstrate.

"Safety on when you don't want to shoot, safety off when you want to shoot," you said, flicking the pin on the side of the gun. "Cock it only once. It's semi-automatic so after that, all you need is to pull the trigger for continuous shots. Grip with two hands, dominant hand tight around it, other hand on top. Don't try to be arrogant by holding it with only one, especially when you've never fired a gun in your life. Point and shoot, simple. Make sure you aim at the bad guy, though."

You took his hand and placed the gun in his palm, smiling at him sweetly as if you hadn't just given him a loaded weapon.

"Got it?"

Peter stared at you dumbfounded, gulping as he held it to his chest, "That's definitely not all there is to it when using a gun."

"Hey, don't worry," you said reassuringly, squeezing his shoulder. "It's just for precaution. You might not even need to use it."

Peter nodded with a sigh, staring at the gun in his hand before he slipped into the hem of his pants, snuggly kept there by his belt.

Rookie mistake.

"Make sure the safety is on before you put it there, wouldn't want an accident to happen."

Peter froze before he quickly pulled it out, aiming the barrel as far away from him as possible.

He groaned in utter embarrassment when you laughed.

"Can you just carry it for me?" he asked, pouting for good measure. "Please?"

"You're fine," you giggled, gesturing at your leg. "And I only have one thigh holster."

Yeah. I saw.

"I really don't want to shoot myself in the balls," he said, physically shuddering as he screwed his eyes shut. "And I think you're aware of how clumsy I get sometimes."

You laughed out loud, shaking your head as you moved back toward one of the unconscious guards. Peter watched you curiously as you started checking their suits, a faint 'aha!' leaving your lips before you started taking one of their jackets off.

Peter's brows shot up. "What are you—"

"Jacket off," you interjected, showing him a shoulder holster. He did as told as you walked back to him. You helped him slip the harness on, clicking buckles and adjusting the straps before taking his gun and slotting it in soon after. You tilted your head as you smooth it over him. "Better?"

"Much," he breathed out, smiling at you gratefully as he slipped his jacket back on. "Thanks."

You returned his grin, patting his chest before you went and looked for the safe.

Which didn't take too long.

"They could've at least made it inconspicuous, shit's too easy," you scoffed, gesturing at the safe that had a huge American flag on it, stars and eagles, too, as if it wasn't obvious enough. You looked at him with a knowing smile. "Do your magic."

Peter squatted in front of it, taking his glasses off and twisting the nose bridge. There was a soft whirring sound before the glasses turned into a mini, android spider.

Carbon-based nanotech will always impress him. Imperceptible to metal detectors all while never losing its function and durability.

"Of course it's a tiny spider," you muttered, delight laced in your tone.

"What?" He looked at you over his shoulder with a teasing pout, holding up the spider in his palm. "You don't like him?"

You purse your lips, shaking your head before meeting his eyes. "He's cute."

"And hopefully he works, too," he said, turning back to the safe before carefully placing the little guy on the keypad. It took a few moments for the mechanical spider to do its thing. Peter let out the breath he was holding when the safe opened without a hitch. He looked at you with a grin, gesturing at the device inside. "Voilà."

You scrunched up your face. "And that proves that you can't be good at everything."

"Hey!" he gasped. "It wasn't that bad."

"Just leave the French accent alone," you teased, though your eyes were shining with admiration. "But that brain of yours is definitely something else."

Peter blushed, waving your compliment off, "Nah, it's just—"

"Shut up, Parker," you scoffed playfully, but your smile was genuine. "You're incredibly smart and annoyingly amazing. It's not up for discussion."

"Thanks," he chuckled shyly, cheeks turning redder. He gestured at the nuclear football, before looking up at you. "You have the decoy, right?"

"Oh, right." You nodded, reaching into the neckline of your dress before you pulled the rectangular device out, showing it to him with a proud grin.

Peter stared at you, mouth agape.

"What?" you snorted, shaking your head at his surprised face. "I don't have pockets!"

"You could've asked me to carry it."

"I can't exactly bring you with me into the ladies' restroom now, can I?" you said, shrugging. "And I couldn't just hand it to you in the middle of the ballroom with all those people."

"Touché," he hummed, taking the device from your hands. His brows furrowed as he turned it in his palm. "Is it supposed to be warm?"

"It's been with the girls in the past hour or so, of course it's going to be warm."

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he tried not to let his curious thoughts wander.

He was failing, though. Miserably so.

Because holding the device when it's been in your boobs made him wonder exactly how warm your boobs would actually feel if it was direct contact, right in the palm of his—

"What?" you asked, none the wiser, briefly. Because then it was immediate, the realization crossing your face, probably noticing just how red his face had gotten. "Oh my god—Peter!"

"Sorry!" he squeaked, hurriedly turning his back on you, focusing on the task at hand.

"My boobs are clean, by the way."

"That wasn't the route my thoughts went to," he grumbled.

"Yeah, I figured," you giggled. "Just wanted to confirm."

He rolled his eyes even though you couldn't see him.

Focus. You got this.

But just as he was about to switch the devices, you moved closer to him, bending over until you were at eye level with the safe, your scent overpowering to the point of being distracting.

"Y/N," Peter sighed, head hanging low as his hand fell onto his sides. "You're making me really nervous when you're breathing down my neck."

"Sorry! Sorry," you laughed, heels clicking as you moved further behind him. "I'll just…step back."

With bated breath yet careful fingers, Peter swiftly switched the devices, blowing out his cheeks in relief when nothing happened.

"Great job, Pete."

He shot you a smile over his shoulder and closed the safe, letting his spider friend reverse its steps before taking him off the safe, pressing its tiny tummy for it to turn back into glasses.

Peter put it back on, running his fingers through his hair before turning to you.

You beamed and held out your palm.

But just as he was about to hand you the device, he quickly pulled it back with narrowed eyes.

"Are you putting this in your boobs again?"

You stared at him in amusement. "I didn't grow any pockets at the last minute, so yes."

"Don't you think it's dangerous?" he reasoned, carefully waving the device to get his point across. "I mean, this is the real thing."

"It's not radioactive," you chuckled. "It's not going to suddenly blow up."

"We don't know that—"

"Hey, don't worry," you hummed, your reassuring smile turning mischievous. "I'll still have my boobs at the end of this mission."

Peter rolled his eyes. "I'm concerned about you, like, as a whole person."

"Yeah, I know, and that includes my boobs."

He groaned, "Is this becoming a thing?"

You shook your head, laughing, "No, no, I just didn't think I'd find out that you're a boob guy, during a mission, no less."

"I'm not a boob guy," he scoffed.

Peter was a you guy, to be honest, as in you as a whole person—eyes, boobs, lips, butt, thighs, everything included.

And personality, obviously.

You laughed, leaning close to kiss him on the cheek, throwing him off-guard that you were able to take the device from him without breaking a sweat.

Peter sighed in defeat.

He really wasn't any better than any of the guards in this building.

"Come on," you called, hands now free, the device properly hidden with 'the girls' as you opened the door for him. "We need to get going."

•••

You both were navigating your way back into the ballroom when the hairs on the back of Peter's neck stood up.

"People incoming," he warned, grabbing your hand as you pulled you down a hallway. His enhanced hearing just about picked up the sound of guns being loaded. "Armed."

"How many?" you asked, your free hand picking up your skirt as you walked even faster.

He tried to listen closely, calculating the footsteps that echoed down the hall sans both of yours

"Four," he confirmed, brow raising. "Maybe Five."

"That's too many. The minute they'll see us, they're going to get suspicious. It's going to be too late for both of us to take all of them down without at least one sending a signal," you rushed, testing out every door down the halls in hopes that you'd get lucky. "We need to find a place to hide."

"Shit," Peter cursed, looking from left to right of the hall. "They're coming from both sides."

"In here!"

He wasn't given much to process your words when you all but grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pushed him inside a room. The space was quick to grow smaller when you followed suit, your dress knocking over a broom on your way in.

Of course it had to be a janitor's closet.

As if his life wasn't already filled with enough clichés.

Peter grabbed the handle to pull the door close, darkness swallowing you both as it clicked shut. He felt around the metal knob only for his fingers to fall on an entirely flat surface.

"There's no lock," he said, so deathly confused. "What kind of door has no lock?"

"Quiet!" you hissed, pressing your palm over his mouth.

Peter stared at you wide-eyed, his pupils slowly adjusting to the lack of light that he was only now able to gauge just how close you two were.

"Listen," you whispered.

He nodded, closing his eyes as he concentrated on distinguishing the voices.

"The guards have been knocked out."

"Nothing is missing in the room."

"Still, check everything. Be on high alert for anything out of the ordinary."

Peter's eyes snapped open, panic settling in as he heard the footsteps growing nearer.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, voice muffled by your palm. You removed your hand, eyes confused yet expectant. He explained in hurried whispers, "They're not suspicious of anything being stolen yet but they're coming this way. If we get caught, they're going to immediately find out what we're up to and we're doomed."

Peter watched as your face went through different types of emotions. First, it was worry, a flicker of panic crossing your eyes only to be replaced by something else entirely. The crease between your brows deepened, lips pursed as you tilted your head.

It was that all too familiar thinking face he'd grown to adore.

A second later, your brows shot up, eyes wide, and—if he didn't know any better—twinkling as if a light bulb lit up on top of your head.

"Not unless we make them believe we're just some couple needing a quick fix."

"What?" Peter asked, confused.

You only gave him a sheepish smile and a barely-there whisper of,

"I'm sorry."

Peter wasn't given the time to ask what you were apologizing for when you suddenly grabbed him by the nape of his neck and crashed your lips against his.

He stumbled, his back hitting the shelves. Although the way his head was spinning was definitely not because of the impact.

Peter groaned, kissing you back immediately and with fervor, his hands gripping your waist, head tilting as he pulled you closer.

He shivered when your hand moved down his chest before moving inside his jacket, only realizing that you were slipping the nuclear football between the holster, tugging the straps a little tighter to stop it from slipping out.

Then, you guided his hands, much like with your dance earlier. Yet this time, one landed on your exposed thigh as you hiked your leg against his waist, placing the other on top of your ass.

Peter felt like he was about to faint.

But with every bit of respect he had for you—which was a lot—he still hesitated. 

He was unsure as to how far he was allowed to go, deeply worried to cross the line of no return. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable by pushing your boundaries.

He also didn't want to ruin everything he had with you. Whether that was you being his friend or you being his teammate, he really didn't want to lose any of it.

Peter didn't want to lose you.

"It's okay," you whispered against his lips, probably sensing his inner turmoil. "Touch me, Peter."

That was the last thing that made any sliver of his self-control snap.

He growled, squeezing your ass and your thigh simultaneously, pulling your body flush against his as if you could go any closer.

Your gasp was met by a low groan, your hand fisting his jacket as the other took home in his styled hair.

The door swung open, a momentary stream of light illuminating the tiny room. There was a disgusted growl before the door slammed close, darkness covering you both again but neither of you stopped.

Peter gripped your hips, pushing you back slightly until you were the one pressed against the closed door. He cupped the back of your neck, arm curling your waist as he slotted his thigh in between yours in a desperate need to be inhumanly closer.

Your soft moan just about made his knees buckle.

It also made him feel daring enough to gently tease his tongue against your bottom lip. You let him in with his ease, both of you moaning as your tongues did their own dance inside your mouth.

It was intoxicating.

The faint taste of champagne mixing with the taste of you. 

It was something that Peter probably spent a great amount of time thinking about yet nothing in his imagination ever came close. No matter what his brain had conjured in the past, it could never do you justice.

It was addicting.

Your pretty little sighs in response to his soft groans, how you were everywhere, your scent, your taste, your overwhelming warmth engulfing his very being. Peter was drowning in all things you, the very thing that could make him breathe again.

It was too much, yet he needed more.

You were so close, but not close enough.

Peter's hands glided down your body until he was cupping your ass, their warmth settling on each of his palms. But just as he was about to tell you to jump up into his arms, you placed a firm hand on his chest.

Your lips detached with a soft pop, the back of your head softly thumping against the door. You gasped for air, hands fisting his jacket before you rested your forehead against his.

He really needed to remember the fact that he could hold his breath longer than any average human could.

Peter put his hands back on your waist, fingers squeezing as he nudged your nose.

"Y/N, I—"

"Like you, too."

Peter's eyes widened, head pulling back as he stared at you in shock. Whatever confession he had left his brain, a lump caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as he failed to string any letter into words.

Oh boy he was flustered.

The thought of you, you, someone so confident, someone who is way out of his league liking him back, him, little nerdy, dorky, stumbly old Peter Parker, it made his heart soar.

"I'm a trained spy, Pete, I know how to read people," you giggled when he stayed silent for a few seconds. "It's written all over your face. You really haven't been subtle about it the whole night, either."

"I don't think subtlety is my specialty," he whispered, a shy smile growing on his lips as he pressed his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses brushing in the sweetest of ways.

"It really isn't." You nodded in agreement with a wide smile of your own.

"So I don't think I need to be subtle about this," he started, gaze holding yours. He was nervous, but if he didn't say this out loud, he might just explode. "I'm falling for you."

"You're so cliché," you giggled, his cheeks growing hot, his whole body melting, his heart jumping out of his chest and landing straight into the palm of your hand when you added, "I'm falling for you, too."

"Really?" he asked, surprised yet his voice came out a little shy.

It was obvious enough. The words had been said. But he wanted to make sure because this just seemed like one big lucid dream and he'd actually die if he were to wake up any moment now.

"I mean, I haven't been subtle about it either," you giggled, kissing him briefly yet sweetly, brushing your nose with his as you breathed out, "But yeah, I do. I feel so strongly for you Peter that I just—I feel nervous, I feel giddy, I feel safe and appreciated and I just feel so, so happy whenever I'm around you and I just, whatever I did in the past didn't matter because you accept me for me and I trust that you've got the best intentions, I trust you with my life, and you're just the sweetest most thoughtful and I'm just glad to have known you and—" you paused, shaking your head with a soft laugh, "I'm such a sap."

God this felt like a dream come true.

"I like you being a sap," he chuckled shyly. "But I'm just…me, though."

"Exactly," you confirmed, smile genuinely laced with pride. "You're brilliant, Peter Parker. How can I not fall for you?"

Peter's cheeks were starting to hurt with how wide his smile was, but he sure as hell wasn't complaining.

"You're so way out of my league," he whispered, arms wrapping around your waist.

"I could say the exact same thing to you," you giggled, pecking his lips. "But let's debate about this another time, yeah? We still got some codes to find and a bad guy to catch," you said, turning around swiftly to face the door before he could even have a chance to stop you.

"Wait, don't—" Peter sucked in a sharp breath, his grip on your waist tightening as his face landed on the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Your back was against his chest, bodies pressed up far too close. "—move," he lowly groaned against your skin.

"Oh."

Peter felt his whole body heat up from embarrassment. Because he knew you could definitely feel it behind you. He could hear the fast pace of your heart, and if that wasn't a tell-tale sign, he didn't know what was. And no matter how much he tried to pull away, even just slightly, the small space of the closet wasn't letting him do so.

"I'm sorry, I am so, so, so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen I—"

He tried to move away from you again, but clumsily elbowed the shelf on his right instead which made a few empty buckets topple over from the top. He quickly pulled you back to avoid you getting hit by the falling cleaning supplies, but in turn, it made your ass press against him a little harder.

"Fuck," he groaned, body going rigid when you gasped. You probably think he was a proper pervert now. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to do that either. And I tried to control it I swear but it's just—my senses are enhanced and you're so close and that kiss was really hot and you're even hotter and your ass really feels nice in my hands—shit! I shouldn't have said that, I should not have said that. I mean not! Not that it's untrue, it's very, very true. You've got a really pretty and nice ass and I should really shut up goddammit—"

You cut him off with a giggle, head tilting to the side as your fingers reached up, burying it in his now messy brown hair.

"I feel flattered that a kiss got you this excited," you teased, earning a soft whine from him.

"It's not just a kiss when I've been wanting to do it for so long," Peter confessed, kissing your shoulder softly before he mumbled, "And it's not my fault that you're out here looking like a goddess."

"Look at you," you giggled, squeezing his forearm that was wrapped around your waist. "That expensive suit is really doing wonders with your smoothness, huh?"

"It brings out the suave in me," he hummed, grinning. "Makes my eyes pop, too."

You let out a sweet, hearty laugh.

Peter chuckled, heart warming as he buried his face into your neck.

"How about you take this because I really don't want to accidentally drop it," he started, pulling the device out of his jacket and handing it over to you, kissing your shoulder with a deep breath, "And just give me a second to calm down."

You giggled.

But what you said next did anything but help.

"Yes, sir."

•••

It was quarter to seven when you both made your way down to the underground theater.

There were fewer people this time around. Peter supposed it was expected. What, with a secret auction selling dangerous weapons, you simply couldn't hand out invitations like it's free candy. It could land in the wrong hands—well, right hands, in this case.

He fiddled with the card inside his pocket, free fingers pushing up his glasses, eyes narrowed at the guards by the entrance.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath, noticing how they were ushering people into the theater individually. "I think it's a card for each person and we only have one—"

Peter stopped when he found no sign of you.

"You're not supposed to disappear without letting me know," he said through his comms.

He heard you giggle in response, "I was supposed to be back before you even notice."

"Point still stands," he grumbled. "Where are you?"

Peter grinned when he felt a familiar warmth behind him, your arms wrapping around his waist as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi," he chuckled, taking your hand to pull you by his side. He circled his arm around your waist, brow raised. "Where'd you go?"

You smiled innocently, yet the proud glimmer in your eyes was unmistakable. You held a hand up, a black and silver card pinched between two fingertips.

Always ten steps ahead of him.

It made him want to push you against a nearby wall and kiss the living daylights out of you.

"Now, how'd you get that?"

You winked. "You know I have my ways."

Before Peter could respond, everyone suddenly turned around to the sound of a commotion.

"Sir, you're not allowed without an invitation," one guard said.

"But I had it!" a man with a stark white beard exclaimed, patting around his pockets, "It was here!"

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave, sir."

"Well, you just lost your highest bidder!"

Peter turned back to you, impressed. "You need to teach me how to do that."

"I can't teach you all my tricks—" your laugh died once you walked by a lamp, illuminating both your faces in this otherwise dimly lit entry hall. You pulled him back under the light, your eyes widening. "Oh shit."

"What?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, it's just—" you snorted, gesturing to get him to come closer, hand cupping his cheek. "There's lipstick all over your mouth."

Peter blushed, chuckling, "Would it be so bad to just leave it?"

"You look like you just ate a can of tomato sauce."

Peter pouted.

You shook your head with a laugh, thumbs brushing as much lipstick stain as you could. Just when he thought you were done, you cupped his face, pulling him closer to kiss him firmly on the cheek.

"There," you hummed, giggling, "Since you want my lipstick on you so bad."

"It's hot," Peter shamelessly admitted with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but grinned anyway, taking his hand and pulling towards the entrance.

"Come on. Let's go spend the millions we don't have."

•••

It took a few more minutes for everyone to settle in their seats. You and Peter choose the front-right corner. It was near the stage but not at the center of attention.

As the clock struck seven, the main stage lights lit up. There were a couple of marble statues littered across—for decoration he assumed—and vases filled with wildflowers he could never name. Right at the center was a white podium, a huge projector screen behind it.

Then, a flash of gold appeared on the stage.

Peter immediately knew who they were.

"Welcome, everyone," the Auclair twins said in sync.

"Why is it always evil twins?" he said.

Obviously, he knew about Halbert, he was the one who gave him the card. But he didn't expect his twin sister to be in on it, too. But then again, the guy seemed to be all beauty with no brains.

And no, he wasn't biased.

"I knew there was something off about her," you scoffed, arms crossed over your chest, pout prominent as you glared at the stage. You were starting to look like you were throwing a tantrum. But Peter decided not to say anything.

Yet.

"I think you all know why we've gathered here so I won't bother you with unnecessary semantics," Greta started, waving her hand at the projector, now showing a live feed of the room you broke into earlier. "Any or all of those high-grade toys could be yours tonight, if you're willing to empty out your pockets, of course. But, to lift everyone's spirits up," Greta paused, giggling wickedly as she dug her fingers into the neckline of her dress, procuring the star of the night, and the bane of yours and Peter's existence.

"The Gold Codes and the nuclear football, available for bidding at the end of the night," she purred, waving the card around as if it wasn't one the most dangerous items on the planet. "We have to save the best for last, of course."

"So hiding things in your boobs is a common thing then," Peter said, catching the sour look on your face from the corner of his eye. He was trying really hard to bite back his smirk.

"So you found the codes before anyone else did."

"What?" Peter looked at you confused. "But I didn't."

"You did," you said, jaw ticking. "You just didn't know you were already looking at it."

It took Peter a moment.

"I was not looking at her boobs."

"Sure you weren't," you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Darling," he drawled teasingly, playing up the accent, the fire in your glare unmistakable as you met his eyes. He pinched your chin between his forefinger and thumb with a grin. "You've got nothing to be jealous of."

Huffing, you pulled your face off his grasp, "Shut up."

"You know," he started, daringly throwing his arm over your shoulder. You were never one to cross when you were angry. But Peter simply wanted to have some harmless fun. After all, this was the first time he'd ever seen you like this. "I still haven't decided if you're cute or hot when you're jealous."

"Don't tempt me to punch you."

He chuckled, leaning to press his lips against your temple. His smile widened when he felt your whole body relax beside him.

"So, what’s the plan?" he murmured against your skin.

You shifted in your seat, resting your head on his shoulder.

"We wait until the codes and the football are up for bidding," you mumbled. "Then, I'm going to be a show-off, placing a higher bet over anyone while moving closer to the stage. Once I'm in good proximity, cause a distraction and I'll swipe the codes."

"Got it," he confirmed, flinching in his seat when he heard the bang of a hammer.

"Your numbered paddles are under your seats. Now, let's begin."

Peter had only seen auctions in movies, and they always seemed to be the most boring thing ever.

He never expected them to be as anxiety-inducing as this one.

It was probably the fact that these were dangerous and deadly weapons, carelessly sold to anyone who had the money to buy them. 

His heart would sink every time he'd hear that fucking hammer.

Peter was fidgeting with the bridge of his glasses, eyes sharply trained on the stolen Chitauri gun being wheeled off the stage.

"Relax," you whispered, hand on his knee to stop it from bouncing. "We've got backup near the premises. Once we secure the codes, they'll immediately interfere. None of those weapons are getting out of this building."

"They're buying it like it's candy," Peter grumbled frustratingly. "As if lives won't be put at risk if it gets out there."

"Next up, Oscorp's drone satellite," Greta introduced excitedly. "Bigger, better, deadlier than the one by Stark Industries."

Peter's fist clenched. "Why do they always find the need to one-up each other?"

"Egomaniac billionaires," you supplied, hand curling around his fist, bringing his knuckles up to your lips before you intertwined your fingers together.

It helped him calm down a little.

"Things are starting to get boring, don't we think?" Greta laughed, waving around the controller. It was either she wasn't aware of how dangerous the device in her hand was, or she simply didn't care. Her wicked grin told Peter it was the latter. "So how about we do a little test run?"

"Shit," he cursed, sitting upright. "That's not part of the plan."

"You're the faster one," you said, tone calm as you tugged your skirt discreetly and pulled your gun out. "When I give the signal, immediately run towards her and secure codes."

"What signal?"

You stood up, gun raised.

Everyone froze as you shot at the wires that held the scaffolding that was hanging on top of the stage. It immediately gave way, dropping onto the wooden stage and blocking both exits on each side.

Chaos erupted then.

The people running towards the small entryway made it difficult for the guards to get in right away.

But Peter was still staring at you in shock.

"Go!"

He snapped out of it, taking long strides towards the stage, reaching the twins just in time before they could even manage to escape.

"Mr. Reid," Halbert chuckled darkly, pushing Greta right behind him before pulling out a revolver. "You should've bought a gun."

"Well, good thing I did," Peter quipped, reaching inside his holster only to find nothing. He looked up, eyes wide. "Shit. I dropped it."

"Oh my God—" Peter heard you groan in disappointment, and he could practically hear that eye roll.

He would've found the time to be embarrassed if Halbert hadn't started shooting at him. He dodged every bullet easily. His enhanced reflexes paired with how inaccurate this guy's aim was, it wasn't really much of a challenge.

And no, he wasn't showing off.

Okay, maybe a little bit.

Peter couldn't stop his chuckle when he heard the familiar clicking of an empty cylinder.

"Well, looks like I didn’t even need one," he bragged as he stalked towards Halbert, yanking the gun out of his hold before hitting him on the side of the head with the butt of his own gun, rendering him unconscious. He turned to Greta with a mocking tut, "Your twin isn't the wisest, isn't he?"

"No," she scoffed, smile widening as she glanced over his shoulder. "But he bought us time."

Peter saw the entryway clear of civilians, the armed guards swiftly invading the theater.

"Shit."

A flash of red caught his eye, your sharp heels clicking rapidly before you slid on the floor, picking up the gun Peter dropped. You knelt on one knee, gun in each hand, aiming it toward the guards and raining hell on them motherfuckers.

You didn't miss a shot.

He shook his head in awe, "And you said to hold it with two hands!"

"I've fired guns since I was twelve!" you said, tilting your head to throw him a smirk. "I think I can be an exception."

How could he argue with that?

Peter swerved to the right, heart thumping as the glint of a knife covered his periphery. He grabbed their wrist, pulling him forward in one swift motion and throwing the culprit towards the seats.

"Who brings a knife to a gunfight?" he huffed as he kicked away the knife that fell out of their hand.

Peter's attention got stolen by your growl.

His eyes landed on you just in time to see you grab a man's forearm from behind, using all your body weight and the right momentum to throw him over your shoulder, a pained scream when you undoubtedly dislodged his arm, the knife clinking onto the floor. You kicked the guy on the head, his eyes rolling back as he turned limp. You stepped on the knife's handle to fling it into the air, catching it with your left hand before flipping to your right, holding your skirt taught before cutting a new slit on your skirt. Then, you spun, red dress flowing with the motion as you kicked the guy running towards you on the side of his throat.

If Peter wasn't in love before, he sure as hell was now.

"What?" you panted when you caught his gaze, brows furrowed.

"That was so hot," Peter breathed out, your eyes rolling for the umpteenth time before they suddenly widened.

"Down!"

He ducked as you threw the knife, the blade soaring past him and landing into the guy's shoulder, the gun that was aimed at Peter's distracted ass dropping onto the floor.

He looked back at you in absolute wonder.

And did his pants grow a little tighter?

"Will you marry me?"

"Jesus—focus!"

"Is that a 'no'?!" he called out teasingly, elbowing one guy on the chin before hurling his unconscious body toward his allies. He called it the bowling move. Taking a gun from the floor, he turned to you with a pout. "Can't believe you'd reject me, babe!"

"Kinda in the middle of something here!" you yelled back, shooting a guy on the leg before knocking him out with the butt of your gun. You stood straight with a deep breath, tilting your head with your lips pursed before nodding behind him. "How about you help me get those codes first?"

Peter turned, seeing Greta dragging her twin towards the side exit.

"Oh yeah, right," he chuckled sheepishly before going after her. "My bad!"

Fully catching him off guard, Peter flew forward and landed on his chest when Greta swiped his legs. He rolled onto his back, narrowly avoiding the six-inch heel she dug into the floor where his head was supposed to be.

"So you can fight," he breathed out, doing a kip up to get back on his feet.

"I bite too," she hummed, winking. "And I've been wanting to sink my teeth into you, pretty boy."

"Uh, thanks?" he chuckled dryly, face scrunched up. He swerved the knife she threw at him, looking back only to see she got two more, one on each hand. He sighed, "Great. You throw knives."

"What?" she asked, tone mocking as she flipped one in the air, catching the blade in between her fingers with ease. "You don't like knife play?"

"That doesn't sound like fun," he grumbled, running towards her, swiftly ducking as she kicked her leg before grabbing her by the ankles.

Greta fell on the floor with a thud, yet she was quick to kick his knee with her other foot, Peter hissing as her sharp heel dug into his skin. She used this slim window to pull her leg forward, dragging Peter with it and making him land right on top of her.

"Quite a handsome face. Maybe we can go out for dinner sometime," she purred, running her tongue over her lip as she traced his jaw with a knife, sharp tip teasing his throat. "The real party happens later in the night, of course."

"Yeah, no thanks," he breathed out, pulling his head back and quickly grabbing her arms, flipping her onto her stomach in one swift motion. Peter pinned her down using his body weight as he knocked the knives out of her hands. He pulled her wrist towards her back, his knees tight on either side of her hips as he sat up. Holding her wrists with one hand, he undid his necktie with the other, tying her up securely before letting go.

"Kinky," she huffed out a giggle.

Peter rolled his eyes, pulling her up by the shoulders until she was seated on the floor. He walked around, dusting off his suit and adjusting his glasses—they got sticky tape on the sides to not let them fall off during fights. He thought about this ahead, thank you very much—as he stood in front of her.

"I guess it's true what they say about the quiet ones," she said, head tilted as she shamelessly ran her eyes down his body before meeting his eyes. "You're a different kind of man, Lucas Reid."

"The name's Parker," he said with a deep voice as he buttoned up his jacket with the utmost seriousness on his face. "Peter Parker."

You scoffed loudly.

Peter immediately spun, his landing eyes on your figure standing behind him, your jaw tight, arms crossed over your chest, a scowl on your pretty face with that fiery glare to match.

Oh you were pissed.

But Peter had a feeling it wasn't at him.

"You've been itching to do that the whole night, have you?"

"Maybe," he chuckled.

You rolled your eyes, nodding towards Greta.

"Just take the codes."

Peter stared at you like you'd grown a second head.

"What?" you asked, voice taut, so clearly getting annoyed.

"You take the codes."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Because I respect women?"

You blinked a few times before dropping your head with an exasperated groan.

"What? You know where it's hidden!" he exclaimed in defense, gesturing towards the bound woman. "I'm not just slipping my hand in there!"

"I have a feeling she won't mind," you muttered to yourself, but thanks to his enhanced hearing, he heard you loud and clear. "You've practically been humping each other."

Peter decided to keep quiet, scared that you'd actually punch him this time.

Though the glare you shot him was proof that you knew he heard you.

You shook your head, another eye roll before you walked over to Greta, bending at the waist until your face was level with hers.

"Let’s make this quick. Left or right?" you asked.

"Dégage, salope," she hissed.

You gasped, hand over your mouth in feigned shock. "Now, that's not nice."

"Wait, what did she say?" Peter asked as he stood by the sidelines, not too close but not too far. He was giving you the space to do your thing.

"She called me a bitch," you cooed, pouting condescendingly. "Fine. Since you don't want to make this easier for us—"

Before Peter could even question what you were about to do, you stomped on a knife, catching the handle mid-air and straight up slashing the blade in front of Greta.

"Woah!"

Peter downright expected you to have chopped her whole head off—okay, maybe slit her throat because the knife wasn't that big.

But nothing happened.

No chopping, no slicing, no blood, nothing.

Well, not until a split second later when Greta gasped, the top half of her—really expensive, he assumed—dress sliding down her body.

Peter looked away immediately, face hot as he screwed his eyes shut, turning his back on her for good measure.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he muttered, taking his glasses off to rub his face with his palm.

But he couldn't wipe his smile off.

Peter knew you could take the codes without having to cut her dress. You were simply being petty. And it was safe to assume it had something to do with the way Greta had been shamelessly flirting with him for the whole night.

Your jealousy fed his ego a little bit.

"You can look now," you said, tone low. "She's covered."

"Are you sure?"

You scoffed, "It's not like you don't want to see it, anyway."

Peter swiftly turned, only catching a glimpse of Greta now wearing Halbert's jacket with the matching gold tie gagging her mouth.

He immediately turned to you who was standing to the side, looking anywhere else but at him. He walked over, rubbing up and down your arms until you uncrossed them. He pulled you closer by the waist, nudging your nose while mirroring your pout.

"Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad."

"Then why did you do that?"

"I had to get the codes."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to involve boobage exposure."

"Boobage exposure," you snorted, the corner of your lip twitching as you finally met his eyes. "I feel like that's something you enjoy."

"I didn't even look!" he defended, his smile widening when you tried your best to hide yours. "I promise. I didn't want to, either."

You shook your head, sighing, "You're such an annoying dork."

"Your annoying dork."

That made your smile appear.

"My dork, huh?" you hummed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

Peter smiled, pulling you closer, tip of his nose brushing yours. "Well, if you'll have me, that is."

"Have you as what, exactly?"

"Your boyfriend," he said, slightly surprised by his own boldness. But then again, you two had already established what you felt for each other. The fear of rejection wasn't there anymore. Shaking his head with a smile, he added, "Wait, answer that on our date this Friday?"

"Love the newfound confidence, Agent Parker," you said, giggling. "And yes, to both questions,"

"I really like the sound of Agent Parker," he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows at you. "Am I a certified spy now?"

"Eh, if you don't drop your gun next time, then sure."

"Come on," he sighed, pouting. "I could use a name change, you know, like Spy-Dork-Man."

Peter burst out laughing when you physically cringed.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't kick you because of that god awful pun."

"Because I'm your dork now, bad puns included, so you're going to have to get used to it from early doors."

"Touché," you laughed.

Peter looked at you adoringly, but just as he was about to kiss you, a sudden ruckus of applause made you both jump, stance on defense reflexively.

It was the team, right in front of the stage, clapping and wolf-whistling like a bunch of assholes.

Peter groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"About time you two solved this…tension you have," Wanda said as she reached the stage, gesturing at the two of you before she held her hand out to Bucky. "Hand it over, Super Soldier. She technically kissed him first,"

"Maybe I shouldn't have held Sam back from unmuting the line in the closet," Bucky sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing over twenty dollars.

"You had a bet?" you gaped at the two of them.

Peter turned to Sam. "You tried to interrupt us again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you guys didn't constantly forget that your comms aren't reserved for the two of you only," the Captain chuckled.

"You guys were so cute, though," Wanda said with a smile.

"The smooching sounds were a bit much." Bucky grimaced.

"Don't forget the abundant talk about boobs and ass," Harley laughed, appearing from behind everyone with a bag in hand. "Good thing you finally grew those balls though, Parker. I've grown really tired of hearing you whine about your obsession—sorry, I mean, crush on her."

"Shut up, man," Peter groaned, burying his face back on your shoulder to hide.

"Leave him alone," you laughed, rubbing his back in comfort.

"I wished I could've hacked the cams earlier so it would've been like watching a James Bond movie meets rom-com live," Harley said. "But the audio was good, popcorns still definitely enjoyed."

"Lives were on the line and you guys enjoyed popcorn," you deadpanned.

Sam laughed as he patted both of your backs. "Nah, we just knew you two got it handled."

"What are you guys doing here then?" Peter countered, glaring at them.

"Clean up," Wanda said, cracking her fingers before adding, "I also need to erase your faces off of people's memories because blowing your covers wasn't exactly part of the plan."

"And this guy practically gave out his real name," Bucky chuckled, patting Peter's shoulder before moving over to the unconscious men lying on the floor.

"I couldn't let the opportunity slip!" Peter protested. "It's probably going to be my only James Bond moment, I had to take it."

"That was pretty stupid," you said, scrunching your face at him with a laugh.

"I know that now, thanks," he grumbled.

"Here." Harley tossed him his web shooters and mask, and Peter felt a sense of comfort as he snapped them onto his wrists.

"Pete, you think you can swing us home?" you asked, slipping your fingers into his.

"Yeah, of course," he chuckled, squeezing your hand. He could definitely get used to feeling your affectionate touch constantly.

"Right, we're going to leave this to you guys, now bye!" you called out before you all but dragged him towards the exit, Peter's groan and your laugh echoing down the hall when Sam yelled,

"Use protection!"

•••

You both were honestly too tired to even attempt and continue what started in the closet.

Well, you did try to.

When you landed back at the compound, you both decided to go to your separate rooms and take much-needed hot showers first. But getting to your quarters in itself probably took around ten minutes, all because Peter simply couldn't help but stop every couple of meters down the halls, pressing you against the nearest wall to kiss you senseless.

It took you shutting the door on his face for you both to finally wash off the sweat and grime of the day.

After he was all cleaned and clothed, he didn't waste any time making his way out of his room. But when he opened the door, you were already standing there, fist in the air, mid-knock.

Peter chuckled as he grabbed your waist and pulled you into his room, giggles and satisfied sighs bouncing off his walls as his lips covered your own. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you with ease, a murmured comment from you about him showing off his super strength as he carried you to his bed.

But the second you both hit the mattress, it was simply far too comfy and soft that the intense heat of the kiss gradually simmered into a mellow warmth. His body was covering yours, fingers intertwined, lips moving slowly, lazily yet just as sweet. 

And after a few more moments of you two languidly kissing, you ended up settling with cuddles for the night.

Now, here you were, being the little spoon with your back pressed against his chest, limbs tangled, bodies warm and snug under the covers. He was drawing lazy circles on your stomach, his eyes growing heavier with each rise and fall of your chest, the steady beat of your heart lulling him.

Peter thought you were already fast asleep. And he was just about to follow suit until you spoke up,

"Are your hands cold?"

"Not really," he murmured, voice a little rough. "Why?"

"You can always use my boobs in case you need to warm them up."

He groaned, burying his face onto your shoulder. "Are you ever going to let this go?"

"What?" you giggled softly. "You just seemed so interested in their warmth earlier. I'm allowing you to quell your curiosity."

Peter lifted himself a little, just so he could get a clear view of your face.

"Is this a genuine invitation for me to cup your boobs?"

"Only if you wanna," you said, turning to him with a soft smile, eyes half-lidded. "No playing, though."

He nodded with a laugh, settling behind you and gently sneaking his hand under your shirt, no pressure or anything so that you'll be able to move away whenever you wanted to. Then again, you were skilled enough to break his wrist, anyway.

But you didn't do that, not at all.

Instead, you shifted in your place, providing more space for his arm to fully wrap around your torso until he was cupping a boob in his hand.

You sighed, body melting into the mattress even more, your back warmly pressed against his chest as you nosed his pillow.

"They are really warm," he hummed, his whole body relaxing as he let his hand just…be there, without any malice whatsoever. "This is oddly comforting."

"Yeah," you mumbled, a loud yawn following suit. "Like stress balls."

Peter chuckled, "That's one way of describing it."

You hummed, yawning out a soft, "Good night, Pete."

Peter smiled. "Good night, angel."

The next response he got was your soft snores as you finally drifted off to sleep,

Peter didn't expect his night to end with you sleeping in bed with him, all cuddled up in his arms, let alone, with him cupping your boob—which he surprisingly found comforting and adorable rather than anything else.

But he did expect to fall asleep with a huge smile on his face.

And then later in the morning, the thing that would wake him up wouldn't be the sunlight anymore, it'd be your warmth, tickling his skin as you cuddle closer to him. A tired, yet satisfied smile would curl on his lips as he would bury his nose into your hair, breathing in your sweet scent. It was much more comforting, hearing your little snores and sighs, or even your occasional mumbles about whatever it was you were dreaming about.

It was new, but definitely something he could get used to.

It was going to be a peaceful Sunday morning with you, and Peter really loved that.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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[yoongiseesawmp3]

paradigm - seonghwa (m)

summary: bored, at work, you start to realize your fellow bartender seonghwa is hot. like really hot. after talking, you find out you’re both having dating trouble. how bad would it be if you helped each other out, just a little bit?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: smut!!!!! switch!seonghwa (leaning bottom), switch!reader (leading top), afab reader, oral (m receiving), cumplay, penetrative sex (unprotected), mentions of alcohol

masterlist

dating sucks, and lately your roster has been disappointing you exponentially. you need new blood, but you’re not sure where to go to find it. you’re tired of apps, bored with shitty conversations and no follow through, and if you have to waste another night out at an expensive restaurant just for the most mediocre sex of your life then you might start to consider celibacy. 

you’re griping about all of this to your friend from work, seonghwa, when a customer comes in and ruins the mood. you’re technically off the clock, just here to bug hwa while the dinner rush trickles in, but you decide to do some prep for your shift tomorrow while you wait. you’re not a sommelier by any means, but in an attempt to class up the joint, the owner wanted to hire someone who could pose as a wine snob to make the place seem nicer. enter you, a self proclaimed connoiseur (you drank a lot in college). seonghwa is the night bartending lead, and also the most attractive man in the world, no competition. you’re staying late today to make a house sangria out of some poorly selling wines, but you also wanted to linger and make eyes at seonghwa with his newly bleached hair. 

speaking of the object of your desires, seonghwa turns back to you after pouring a round of shots for a guy who barely looks 18 let alone 21, and he jumps back into your previous conversation.

“sorry, what was i saying?” he asks you, wiping his hands on a bar towel.

“did you card that kid?” you ask back, watching the customer struggle to balance the heavy tray of shots back to his table.

“yeah,” seonghwa shrugs. “it didn’t look like a fake but he’s definitely twelve.”

“you’re very ethical,” you point out, struggling to cut the orange in front of you, tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. seonghwa watches on, intrigued by the shock of pink poking your lips, but you interrupt his staring by saying “you were about to solve all my relationship problems before squarepants showed up.”

“right,” he laughs, gently taking the knife from your hands. “let me do this, you’re gonna chop a finger off. you shouldn’t be doing this with a paring knife anyway.”

“that’s all we have back here!” you complain. then, you watch in shock as seonghwa produces a utility knife from thin air. “you a magician?”

“no,” he laughs with that strained smile of his. “i’ve got a couple hidden back here-”

“safe,” you interrupt.

“-face down, in this jar, as safe as can be, thank you,” he continues, pointing to the jar he’s talking about. 

“how’d you get those?”

“i asked wooyoung,” he shrugs. “they’ve got plenty in the kitchen so he said i could have some spares.”

“so helpful, that kid,” you say as you swipe an orange slice seonghwa just cut.

“hey!”

“cut em into rounds,” you instruct, taking little nibbles out of the slice in your hands. “they’re going into sangria, so make it pretty.”

“now i’m starting to understand why you can’t land a man,” hwa grumbles as he follows your request.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask in mock hurt.

“you’re high maintenance!”

“i didn’t ask you to do this for me,” you chuckle, taking the knife back from him. “go back to your job, the less we bother each other the earlier i’ll leave.”

“but then who’s gonna get on my nerves?” seonghwa asks with a pout.

“wooyoung?”

“probably.”

“oh, right, i was saying,” he starts again, messing with some of the quick pours, “if you can’t meet anyone on an app then you might have to, gasp, meet someone in person y/n.”

“i know that,” you groan. “but how? where? just start going up to strangers?”

“basically,” hwa nods. “you could start with boy wonder over there.”

“ok, if you’re not gonna be serious about this then we can talk about something else,” you say as you slide the completed slices from your cutting board and into the large sangria pitcher. “how’s your life? any problems we can solve there?”

“hm,” he thinks, “well, hongjoong pointed out yesterday that i haven’t brought anyone back to the apartment in six months, so that’s a new record i think.”

“six months?” you scoff. “i don’t believe you.”

“why not?”

“looking the way you do?” you ask. “no way you don’t get boned on the regular.”

“what do you mean looking the way i do?” seonghwa asks with a smile. 

“never mind.”

“no, tell me in detail.”

“i need to grab an apple from the kitchen,” you say, trying to scoot past seonghwa to find your escape. unfortunately, he cages you in, arms enclosing around you and resting on the bar behind you. 

“you like the way i look?” he asks with a smirk, and you decide to take the bait.

“um, yeah? especially with your hair like this, it’s kinda sexy,” you admit, not letting seonghwa get the best of you.

“oh?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at your response. he holds your gaze for a moment, and briefly, very briefly, you think he might kiss you. the sound of the bell above the door distracts seonghwa ever so slightly, and you’re able to slip from his trap before he can stop you again. you scurry to the back of house, hiding in the walk in for just a minute before you head back to the bar. 

seonghwa is busy with some of the regulars at the bar, doing his best to relate to these old men and make their disgusting drinks without batting an eye. you’re able to take up your spot at the end of the bar, happily chopping fruit until you’ve got enough for two big pitchers of sangria tomorrow. you start pulling the low bottles from the wine rack behind you, and in your focused state you don’t notice seonghwa finishing up with the men and turning back to watch you. he’s leaning against the bar drying some glasses, his eyes sweeping up and down your body, noticing (not for the first time) how good you look in the uniform. he’s so focused on staring at your ass that he almost doesn’t notice you struggling to reach a wine bottle at the top of the rack, but he steps in and places his hand at the small of your back while he easily grabs the wine you were reaching for, handing it to you with a wink.

“thanks,” you blush, not expecting this small act of kindness from him. his hand lingers for a moment, and when he finally removes it, you can feel the warmth it left in its wake. “how long with you be here tonight?”

“till close, why?” seonghwa asks, hopeful.

“i’m putting this in the walk in, do you mind tasting it before you leave? that should be enough time for it to set, and just let me know if needs anything else?” you ask, not noticing how seonghwa’s face falls once he hears what you need. 

“yeah, sure,” he replies. “so you’re heading out?”

“yeah,” you nod. “been here too long, i’m not getting paid overtime for this.”

“i can share some of my tips,” seonghwa offers, but you shake your head.

“i haven’t contributed, those are your tips m’dear.”

“but you did?” seonghwa says, confused.

“how?”

“looking beautiful,” he sighs, making you laugh at the way his face changes from serious to dreamy so quick. 

“seonghwa if i didn’t know any better i’d say you’re coming onto me,” you joke, looking for any fruit scraps you might have missed in your clean up.

“and what if i am?” he comes back, and you stop. you look up at him and he just quirks that damn eyebrow again as if to challenge you to respond. 

“i’ll see you tomorrow, hwa.”

“i’m just saying, we could help each other out!” he half shouts as you walk away, and you swat in his direction and tell him to quiet down. “think about it!” he calls after you one last time, and then you’re too close to the kitchen to hear what he might try to convince you with next.

-

you make it home just fine, warming up your dinner before you take a short shower. the whole time you go about your routine though, you keep thinking back to what seonghwa said. he was flirting with you, he made that clear. and when he said you could help each other out? your subconscious needs to hear more about that before it runs wild in your imagination. but you can’t just text him and say hey wanna come fuck?...right? 

you decide to distract yourself with a show, doing your best to focus on their drama and not your own. you start dozing off a couple episodes in, the exhaustion from your day finally catching up with you. when your phone buzzing wakes you up, you notice how late it is. your first thought is about the restaurant, this is usually closing time, and then your next thought it seonghwa. did he try your sangria like you asked? that’s when you realize the reason for you phone buzzing was the man himself. you check the message and it’s a simple “hey” which makes you scoff. you sit up, pausing your show before you respond. 

“hey,” you send. then, “did you try my sangria?”

“yeah,” he replies immediately. you watch as the three dots pop up for a moment, and disappear again. 

“and?” you prompt, wanting an answer about your concoction before you go in tomorrow.

“i have thoughts,” he texts back. is he always this dry over text?

“what are your thoughts.”

a few seconds go by, but it feels like hours as you watch him type, and type.

“let me tell you in person ? :)”

-

seonghwa gets to your house in less than 20 minutes, so either he sped all the way here, or he was already on the way when he was texting you. sneaky bastard either way. he knocked quietly, and you opened the door quickly to find him standing there looking delectable as ever despite just working a closing shift. you open your mouth to say something when seonghwa speaks first.

“it needs sugar,” he says quickly, grabbing your face and kissing you after. it’s hungry, but meditated, like he’d been waiting for this. you weren’t the only one with occupied thoughts the past few hours, because seonghwa couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do with you. the things he wanted you to do to him. while he’s got you by the mouth, you wrap your arms around his waist and fully pull him into your apartment, his foot catching the door to close it for you. you push him against it, hands itching to touch his skin as his hands settle at your neck. you grab wildly at his shirt, pulling him even closer to you so your breaths are becoming one and your lips stay locked together. seonghwa nips at your bottom lip, and you yelp, the pause letting his tongue explore your mouth. you moan at the taste of him, and he feels his cock stirring in his pants at the sound. with your hands still grabbing his shirt firmly, you tug him toward your couch, hoping you don’t back into anything as you walk. hwa’s hands fall from your neck to your waist, his eyes peeking open to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. 

you make it to the couch and pull seonghwa down on top of you, your hands sliding down his chest, memorizing every line and every dip, until your hands stop at his waist, trying to untuck his shirt so you can slip your hands underneath it and run your fingers over his skin. when he feels you make contact, he shudders, and you smile into the kiss, finally pulling back for a minute to catch your breath. 

“sensitive?” you ask with a teasing glint in your eye, and seonghwa grinds down into you, earning a shocked moan from you.

“no, you?” he asks mockingly, brushing the hair from your face as he hovers over you. the way he’s looking at you is too sincere for your liking, but you can’t help admiring him in return. you’ve never been this close to him, and you’ve never noticed how deep his dark brown eyes are, or the way his sharp features get more delicate the closer you look. your gaze trails back down to his plump lips, reddened from your prior make out, and you nip at his lips to entice him to kiss you again. he’s easy to convince, because he’s diving in again, kissing you deeper this time. your hands continue exploring his soft skin, but you trail them lower to his belt and work at getting it undone. you don’t bother taking it out, you just undo it and his pants, letting your hand dip down to cup him over his boxers. the touch has seonghwa bucking his hips, his breath fanning over your cheeks as he pants at the contact. you can tell he’s trying to get more friction by moving his hips, but you’re not having that. 

“ah ah,” you say, pulling back from the kiss and smirking when seonghwa chases your lips. “if we’re gonna do this you gotta be good for me. keep your hips still.”

“who said i have to listen to you?” he boldly quips, and a firm squeeze to the bulge in his pants has him caving quickly.

“my house, my rules,” you tease, tracing the outline of his cock lightly. “so? can you be good for me, sweet boy?” he eagerly nods, trying not to buck into your hand again as you cup him tighter. 

“tell me how you want me,” he says in a voice that’s just barely above a whisper, and if his lips weren’t ghosting over yours as he spoke you might’ve missed it. you smile at him and peck his lips sweetly, removing your hands from him completely to cup his cheeks. 

“on my bed? take your shirt off, and i’ll meet you in there.” he kisses you one more time, tongue dipping in to hold you there longer, but a quick pinch to his cheek has him pulling back sadly, sticking his tongue out at you as he untangles himself from your hold. you watch as he wanders toward the hallway, his hand reaching back to pull his shirt over his head. you could write sonnets about the way his back muscles contract as he moves, almost drooling as your eyes follow his every move. “second door on the right,” you call out to him, and then he disappears down the hall. 

you want to make him wait a minute, so you take your time getting up and taking your own shirt off, discarding it on the couch before tugging your sleep shorts up high enough to accentuate your ass (since you know seonghwa loves staring at it so much). you walk toward your room, heart racing at what you’re about to do, but a quiet cry pulls you out of your thoughts. you slide to your door, catching yourself on the door frame as you look on in shock at seonghwa palming himself and tweaking one of his nipples. you’d keep enjoying the show, but your dramatic entrance and the gasp you let out at what you found distracts him, and he blushes but smirks anyway, motioning for you to join him.

“you took too long,” he sighs, grabbing your hand to pull you on top of him as soon as you’re close enough. you slot yourself over his crotch, careful not to make direct contact with his cock just yet. you drape your arms over his shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while you speak. 

“before we keep going,” you start, “can i ask something?”

“am i harder than i’ve ever been right now? yes,” he replies, and you laugh.

“no, but thank you for the insight,” you giggle, the motion grazing you over his lap. he contracts at the contact, and you sit further up into his lap before continuing. “i just wanna be sure, you’re clean right?”

“y/n, i told you, it’s been months,” he deadpans. “and i was plenty clean before that. so yes.”

“ok, well, i was asking, because, um, i don’t think i have any condoms?” you say sheepishly, and the color drains from seonghwa’s face. “so either we just do oral or you can come on my stomach.”

“stomach please,” he says quickly, and you smile at how eager he is.

“yeah?” and he nods again. “lay back for me then.”

“what, already?” he asks, and you shake your head. 

“no baby, i’m gonna take it slow,” you say as you lift yourself from his lap so he can lay back on your bed. you crawl down his body, leaving kisses across his chest and down between the soft lines of his abdomen. “you’re really soft.”

“thanks,” he whispers, watching you intently. “new lotion.”

“hm, really?” you ask, kissing along the waistband of his pants. “what kind?”

“i’m not really sure babe, i’ll have to get back to you on that,” he says as he rolls his eyes, and you work on pulling his pants down. he helps you by kicking them off the rest of the way, and he keeps his hips raised, thinking you’ll take his boxers off next. you simply just press his hips back into the mattress and go back to sprinkling kisses across his waist, down his thigh, along the seam of his briefs, ignoring his cock completely as you move to the other side to repeat your motions. seonghwa groans above you, and it stokes your ego to know he’s affected by such meager attention. 

“you sure you’re not sensitive?” you ask tauntingly, looking up at seonghwa but leaving your lips hovering over his cock. his eyes fall to yours and he whines at the sight of you so close to him but still separated, and you decide he’s had enough teasing for now. 

“if i say yes will you just take these off?” he asks, but you’re already moving to free his cock from his final layer. his cock bobs as hwa lifts himself up to remove his boxers fully, and you feel proud at how red and swollen it is just from a few touches. you softly grasp it, earning a gasp from the beautiful man above you. you spit on it before twisting your hand to work him up a little more, and the whines leaving his pouted lips reminds you of what he said earlier. 

“does it feel good, or am i hurting you?” you ask, wanting to make sure this is good for both of you.

“feels so good,” he breathes out, teeth clenched. “but i need to come soon.”

“really? couldn’t tell,” you tease, stroking him a few more times before leaning down to lick his tip. his precum coats your tongue, and you’re addicted to him and the sounds he’s making above you. you suck on the head, pulling back and spitting on your hand before you stroke him again, steadying him in front of you so you can swallow him in one go. when hwa feels his head hit the back of your throat, he cries out, shaking above you beautifully. you’re mesmerized by him, and you can’t help but watch as you bob up and down on his cock, stroking what you can’t fit. you flatten your tongue beneath him as you lick all the way back up, sucking on his tip again to get his attention. in his hazy state he stares down at you, eyes glazed over and mouth open slightly. he watches entranced as you go down on him again, and this time when you feel him at the back of your throat you suck, bobbing up and down messily, and you get to watch as seonghwa comes undone above you. his body jerks as he comes, shooting his load down your throat in spurts, but it’s such a strong orgasm you’re almost afraid he’ll never stop coming. you keep watching him even after he’s done, breathing heavily and sweat dripping from his forehead. you slowly remove yourself from his cock, holding the rest of his release that was sitting on your tongue in your mouth.

“so good to me,” he says breathlessly, watching you crawl back up to sit on his lap again. you give him a kiss, dipping your tongue past his lips so you can push the rest of his come into his mouth, and he moans when he realizes what you’re doing. his hands grip your hips, grinding you down into him, and you’re shocked to feel him hard again. you let hwa keep grinding you into his cock like that, making out with him slowly, until you can’t take it anymore. 

“can i ride you?” you ask after detaching yourself from his mouth. 

“do you even have to ask?” 

“help me get undressed then,” you reply, and seonghwa quickly grabs the elastic of your sports bra and helps you pull it over your head. his hands carefully trail over your chest, taking time to pinch at your nipples which makes you buck into him for once. his hands keep going, tracing down your back to dip into your shorts and squeeze your ass. he pushes your shorts off then, leaving you in your panties, a wet patch almost dripping over his cock. you grind down into him to let him feel how wet you are, and his head falls back as he groans.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says, tracing his fingers over your waistband before he dips a finger past the elastic to slowly pull those down too.

“death by pussy?” you joke as you help him take your panties off. “not a bad way to go.”

“yeah now that i think about it that might be a sweet deal,” he smiles. hands going wild trying to find purchase on your thighs, your ass, your waist. seonghwa watches with stars in his eyes as you grab his cock, lining him up at your entrance, and as you try to get him at the right angle he sees your arousal literally drip from you core, and you feel his cock twitch in your hand. “you are so sexy, y/n.”

“not as sexy as-ugh-you,” you grunt, feeling him at your entrance. you brace yourself on his strong shoulders, making eye contact with him before you sink down on his cock. “oh, fuck.”

“shit,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him. “maybe i did die. maybe this is what heaven feels like.”

“what’s it feel like?”

“soft,” he starts off, and then his face contorts as you grind down. “and warm. like you.”

“god, hwa, you feel so good stretching me out,” you tell him. “i’m gonna move now.” he nods, and you take that as enough encouragement to bounce on his lap, setting a fast rhythm to chase your own high. he shifts beneath you, trying to help you find the right angle, and when he moves just right and hits your g-spot you literally collapse on top of him, moaning straight into his ear as he bucks up to keep fucking you right where you need it. 

“you good baby?” he whispers in your ear, and you just moan in response, thighs struggling to hold you up because hwa has managed to turn your legs to jelly. you regain some control by bracing yourself on his chest, rubbing your thumbs over his nipples as you try to pick your pace back up. you’re already close, and you clench down on hwa to test the waters, seeing how much more it’ll take before he comes too. “aw fuck, do that again, feels so good y/n.”

“you gotta tell me,” you huff out, squeezing him between your walls, “you gotta tell me when you’re close, remember?”

“i know,” he nods. “not yet though. loving your pussy too much, don’t wanna leave it.” his hands at your waist start to move, one circling around to cup your ass, the other sliding down to find your clit. hwa starts just by tapping it slowly, sending jolt after jolt through your core. your moans turn into high pitched cries, tears pricking at your eyes, and hwa slows to rub your clit with a determination to get you to finish before him. “look at me,” he says, and your eyes meet his. he takes in your fucked out state, bucking up to meet your hips again. you watch him as you crash into your release, almost yelling at how good it feels to have him fuck you through your orgasm. you’re quickly oversensitive though, so you bounce on him a couple more times before pulling off his cock, and the release from your warm walls has him coming as soon as the cold air hits his dick. you watch in awe as he jerks again, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he finishes on himself, come spurting up his stomach and even landing on your thighs still pressed up against his. you keep watching as he comes down, swiping a finger through the come that managed to land on you, and he sucks it clean off his fingers. he’s pulling you in for a kiss before you can do anything else, and then you feel his tongue pressing past your lips to deposit his release into your mouth. you pull back from him, spit and come connecting your lips, but you swallow and show him, a cocky smile growing over his face. 

“that was hot,” you say, still trying to breath normally.

“yeah, we need to do that again,” hwa replies.

“again? now?”

“no, not now, unless you want to,” he says with a smirk. “but i was thinking more like another day. when we need it again.”

“that’d be nice,” you agree, and seonghwa slowly pulls you down to lay against his chest. he presses a kiss to the top of your head before he speaks again.

“and i was thinking...if we did this again..we could do it at my place, and do it by my rules. what do you say?”

#seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa imagine #seonghwa one shot #park seonghwa imagine #park seonghwa one shot #ateez #ateez fic #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa fic #seonghwa x reader #ateez x reader #ateez imagine #ateez smut #ateez one shot

[gartenofbanny]

Loo Loo Land is the second episode of Helluva Boss and is in my opinion the episode where everything started to go downhill for this series. It was the first episode that was actually emotional, but the way it handles the overall plot is mediocre at best. So today, I'm going to discuss why it's the most overrated episode in Helluva Boss as well as why it's redundant.

Rushed Character Development

Loo Loo Land rushed Octavia's character development and her relationship between Stolas as well as Stolas' relationship with Octavia. It didn't rush Stolas' overall development because he's a character who isn't defined by a single relationship, unlike Octavia.

It's revealed around the time of the episode's release that, Stolas having an affair with Blitzo led to Octavia questioning whether or not Stolas would leave her with him. Before that time Stella and Stolas were at least neutral with each other since Octavia says "When I was a kid and my parents didn't hate each other" so around Loo Loo Land's release, Stella wasn't retconned into the shitty character she is currently. So before Stolas met Blitzo they were a functional family, but after Stolas met Blitzo they are now dysfunctional and Stolas was the cause of that.

So when Stolas and Octavia talk, he promised her that he wouldn't leave her behind and that he loves her and she essentially forgives him for what he did. This was all done in the span of 1 minute and 20 seconds and I gotta ask why was this development so fucking rushed?

Stolas literally ruined his family's life and Octavia just forgives him after he made a promise that wasn't even kept later on. That's just very fast-paced and rushed there's literally no way a 17-year-old would forgive a father for that in reality. In order to make this sort of long-term just have Octavia be skeptical of Stolas' promise and spiteful towards Blitzo since he was the guy who led to her mom being crazy and Octavia being depressed. Just having Octavia forgive Stolas is lazy and will lead to not much in the future because believe me it didn't lead to much because her development was already done. You'll see what I mean later on.

Overwhelming amounts of info

Loo Loo Land just forces a shit ton of information down our throats that either had no build up or was just unnecessary.

Now here are the things we learned that had no build up:

Stolas has a daughter named Octavia who's a depressed teen

Stella is an asshole but wasn't a one-dimensional villain as of that episode's release time

Stolas has a messy relationship with his daughter

Blitzo used to work at Loo Loo Land alongside Robo-Fizz

Robo-Fizzarolli entirely

Now here's some of the unnecessary information:

Loo Loo Land is a bootleg rip-off of Lu Lu Word, a theme park run by Lucifer that wasn't mentioned in HH by Charlie, his daughter.

Moxxie is afraid of mascots for some reason, why even add that when you can just put it as Trivia or a fun fact for the character

And lastly, Octavia was afraid of Robo-Fizz, but isn't anymore

So yeah that's a lot of information some that just came out of nowhere and went nowhere, some that was unnecessary, and some that had no build-up or were fast paced. In the second episode of the entire series, no less. Instead of answering questions that the fandom had, Loo Loo Land just immediately gives them an overwhelming amount of info that just leads to more questions that still haven't been answered to this day.

Seeing Stars

So that's half of why I believe it's overrated, but why do I believe it's redundant? Well, Seeing Stars exists.

Loo Loo Land and Seeing Stars both have the same concept just different execution. Octavia runs away due to Stolas being a bad father, IMP or Stolas goes out to look for her, Stolas finds her, they reconcile, and something is on fire later on. Seeing Stars is Loo Loo Land, but way worse and this leads me to question what's the point of Loo Loo Land when we have Seeing Stars? Seeing Stars is basically Loo Loo Land 2.0

This is a callback to my previous statement, Vivziepop developed Octavia and Stolas way too fast and as a result, she doesn't know what to do with their relationship. They expressed their problems, talked, and resolved them in the span of 1 minute and 20 seconds near the end of Loo Loo Land when it should've been at least a couple episodes long.

Octavia has a couple years amount of trauma on her, that trauma just can't be solved with a talk, a hug, and an eventual broken promise.

So in short, the inclusion of Seeing Stars just shows how Loo Loo Land rushed the development between Stolas and Octavia to the point where the writers just did it again eventually making Loo Loo Land a redundant episode.

Loo Loo Land isn't necessarily a filler episode, but it might as well be.

Conclusion

Loo Loo Land at first was the "perfect Helluva Boss episode", but now it's just another Helluva Boss episode to me. While this one isn't as insufferable as some other episodes, it certainly was a big missed opportunity to actually give characters some decently paced and thought-out development. Anyway, that's all I have for today. Thank you all for reading and I hope you all have a nice day!

#helluva boss #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #vivziepop criticism #vivziepop #helluva boss critique #helluva critical #vivienne medrano #helluva criticism #helluva critique #loo loo land #Youtube

[lau219]

Why Deny?

•• Leonard Miller x Female Reader ••

Announcement: I will only be putting up this initial warning for this story, as I personally feel that warnings at the beginning of every chapter takes away from the reading experience and also can be somewhat of a spoiler. I’m sorry if you don’t agree, but that’s how I’m doing it. Read at your own risk. This story will have:

!!!Mentions of guns and other weapons, violence, fighting, blood, injury, implied harm, sexually mature content and some other mentions that one might be sensitive to. 18+ readers only. You are responsible for what you read!!!

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Part 1

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The sound of her final shot rang out through the large room as she unfurrowed her brow and then lowered the gun. Looking out ahead to the silhouette on the target paper, she puckered her lips, evaluating her work before removing the protective earmuffs from her head.

She pressed the button on the wall to bring the paper down the track and back to her, and she let out a frustrated exhale as she saw that she still had a bit of work to go before she recaptured the expert aim she used to have.

​“You want another sheet, Y/N?” the attendant in the booth asked her through the intercom.

​“No thanks, Jack,” she replied. “That was my last one for today. My shoulder’s had enough.”

​When the paper arrived at the end of the track in front of her, she reached up and unpinned the target, looking over it again silently. She then released another audible exhale as she simultaneously rolled her aching shoulder.

​“Mediocre at best,” came his unmistakable voice from behind her.

​Lifting her head, she shifted on her feet and hung the paper over the railing before turning around to face him. He stood in the entryway to the range, leaning against the doorframe of the glass wall with his hands in his pockets and an expression of cocky judgement on his face. When she met his eyes, she felt the all too familiar feeling she got whenever she saw him – an unsettling mix of annoyance, amusement, and arousal.

​“Are you referring to my aim, or are you telling me what your date was thinking about you last night when you dropped her back off at her place?” she replied, raising her eyebrow at him.

​“Ouch,” he said to her, smirking in amusement before pushing himself off the wall.

As he walked towards her, she couldn’t help but think how immaculate he looked in the dark blue suit that could have been custom made just for him. He was so Goddamn sexy, and she mentally smacked herself upside the head for allowing herself to even acknowledge it. Shifting on her feet again, she put her hands on her hips as he stopped in front of her. He reached out and lifted the target paper off the railing she’d laid it over.

“You’ve got a ways to go yet,” he said, holding the paper and looking over her markings.

“Yes, I’m aware, Miller. Thank you,” she said sarcastically.

“I’d think you’d be further along by now,” he continued. “What’s it been? Six weeks?”

​“Five,” she responded, folding her arms across her chest.

​He lifted his eyes and looked at her over the paper. He then shifted his gaze to the floor, noticing her bare stocking feet and the black heels she’d discarded to the side next to the wall. Briefly, he let his eyes hungrily trail her legs, all the way up to the hem of her slim pencil skirt.

Did she wear pantyhose or thigh-highs? he wondered. He could easily slide his hands up that skirt and find out.

​“Pretty sure shoes are a requirement when they test you, doll,” he said, nodding down to her heels before looking back up at her.

​She looked down as well, scrunching her toes on the squishy rubber matting beneath them.

​“Yeah, well, when they test me, it’ll be on more solid ground. In heels, this floor is like quicksand.” She looked at him again and tilted her head mockingly. “You gonna write me up for being barefoot in here?”

​He grinned.

​“Quite the contrary. My only complaint is that you stopped at the shoes.” He took a step closer and then held the target sheet out to her. “How about you take something else off and then try your aim again?”

​His words simultaneously annoyed her and turned her on.

​“You first,” she said to him as she shoved the paper into his chest.

​“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied.

He let the sheet fall to the floor and reached for his waistband, pretending to undo his belt as he gave her a devilish smirk. Looking at him, she simply rolled her eyes and shook her head before turning around and bending down to retrieve her shoes. When she stood back up and faced him, he was watching her, standing with his hands in his pockets again.

“What time should I be at your office tomorrow?” she asked him, trying to ignore the skip of her heart that his gaze caused her as she met his eyes once more.

​He furrowed his brow, playing dumb.

​“What are you talking about?” he said.

​“Cut the shit,” she responded. “I know they gave you several of my assignments while I was out. I want them back. I’ll pick up wherever you left off.”

​“And what if I don’t feel like giving them back?” he asked her in a slightly taunting tone.

​She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head at him.

​“You probably haven’t even looked at any of it yet,” she said. “Just give them back to me.”

​“Well, that’s the nice thing about seniority,” he responded. “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to.”

​She narrowed her eyes again and blew out a frustrated breath as he looked back at her with a cocky smile.

He always loved to hold that over her head. He wasn’t exactly her boss, in that he didn’t have the power to fire her without approval, but he had a seniority that meant he could pretty much do anything else he wanted, including deciding what passed over her desk. Sometimes, they worked together, but he also did his fair share of keeping stuff for himself, and at the end of the day, he got to call the shots.

Stepping away from the railing, she intentionally bumped into him as she walked past him and headed out the door. She heard him chuckle behind her before he turned around and followed, soon falling into step with her as she headed down the hall.

“You can give them to me after we meet with Benton,” she said to him as they walked. “Obviously, you got the message from him about wanting to see us in his office tomorrow?”

“I did,” he confirmed.

“What’s it about?”

“I don’t know.”

She stopped and turned to face him.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “You mean the all-powerful, all-knowing Agent Leonard Miller doesn’t know something?!” She lifted a hand to her cheek and opened her mouth in feigned surprise. “I’m shocked.”

He smirked at her before he responded.

“It can’t be that important if he’s squeezing us in between lunch and his tee time, but it’s nice to know how highly you think of me.”

She rolled her eyes again and resumed walking.

“I’m assuming it’s regarding my re-entry and the date of my test. But currently, I’m still only cleared for paperwork. So, you’re gonna have to give me those case files back so that I have something to do. I’ve already gotten through everything else.”

Unbeknownst to her, he already knew when they were going to test her. She had another week and a half to prepare, and then, if she passed, she’d be clear to resume field work. If not, she’d be stuck with a desk job for the next 6 months until she could test again.

He had almost no doubt that she’d pass; the whole thing was just a formality after her injury. His only concern was her aim, which she still seemed to be struggling to correct since her shoulder had healed. By no means was she off by much, but they were going to compare her shots to her pre-injury accuracy. If it wasn’t an acceptable comparison, she wouldn’t cut it. And even though she rarely actually needed to use a gun, they were nevertheless rigid on the testing, and it was one of the few things he couldn’t pull any strings on. She either could do it, or she couldn’t.

“I’ll consider giving them to you,” he said as they rounded the corner, “once I know that you’re up to speed enough to take them off my hands. I’ll need to fill you in on all of it.”

“Fine, whatever,” she shook her head in exasperation. “When?”

“Over dinner tonight. How’s 7 o’clock sound?”

Stopping once more, she faced him again and tilted her head.

“Seriously?” she said in disbelief.

“Ok, fine,” he replied, looking at her. “7:30.”

“Miller...”

She shook her head again. She should have expected this. It’d been a while since he’d tried to get her to agree to a date with him, but he had never let it go, no matter how many times she turned him down. Not to say she wasn’t tempted. Very tempted.

In the two years that they’d been working together, there’d always been something between them. It was a potent combination of mutual attraction and mutual respect disguised with sarcastic banter. He loved to flex his authority, and she challenged him every chance she got. Truthfully, they each had a high level of regard for the other, but his ego and her sass also lead to plenty of tension. There’d been a few close calls between them in the past, during a late night in his office or a work party that went on a little too long, but she’d never allowed herself to cross that line. She wouldn’t get involved with a colleague, most of all him – it would just be too messy.

“Strictly business,” he continued. “I pick you up, we eat, we go over the cases, I take you back home. If you happen to end up in my lap at some point within there, then so be it.”

Butterflies danced in her stomach at the image he’d just planted in her mind, but outwardly, she kept her composure.

“I’m busy,” she said to him.

“Tomorrow night then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She sighed and folded her arms across her chest.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not going to date you, Leonard.”

“Fine,” he said, “just sex then. I’ll take whatever I can get.”

When she scoffed at him and made to turn away, he stepped closer to her and grasped her forearm.

“Come on, doll,” he said to her, his voice a bit softer. “You and I both know we’d be great together. Why do you keep denying it?”

She felt her skin heating under his hand. Standing this close, it was almost impossible to resist him as his cologne filled her senses and his eyes searched hers for permission.

“We’ve already had this conversation,” she said to him, stepping back. “I don’t get involved with colleagues.”

He smirked.

“Easy solution — think of me as something else,” he said.

“Oh, I do,” she replied with a smirk of her own. “But they’re not very nice thoughts, Mr. Arrogant.”

With that, she started walking again, leaving him standing and looking after her. She turned around when she was almost to the end of the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow with those case files,” she called to him. “Alphabetize them for me, would you?”

Then she took another step and disappeared through the door.

Part 2

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