purple ౨ৎ ferran torres x reader
‘your buzzcut / and the scrapes on your knees changed but those eyes / i still know.’ -purple, olivia rodrigo.
(au) where you and ferran torres are agents sent on a mission in paris to steal high end fashion as a message to the world. as enemies, you two have to find a way to complete this without killing each other.
warnings: suggestive speaking, cursing.
ema’s note; the officer should be hansi flick lmfaoo 😭✋.
IT WAS ANNOUNCED YOU TWO WOULD BE WORKING TOGETHER ALMOST IMMEDIATELY. You wanted to strangle him. To pull on his annoyingly perfect chestnut hair and do the whole mission yourself.
The office was dimly lit, untouched books on the bookshelf behind the top officers wooden desk and leather chair. You and Ferran Torres sat on the velvet red couch, wanting to argue with the officer for sending you two on the stupidest mission together. At this rate, you wanted to send the location of the agents base to everyone in the world, though being wanted yourself for just working here.
“You two are most reliable for this mission,” Top officer took a drag of his cigar again, the room smelling like expensive smoke, “Paris. We’re sending you two out. By car.” He smirked.
Feeling your cheeks heat up, of hatred of course, you didn’t even want to look at Ferran. Great, a twelve hour drive with one of the most insufferable man to ever exist is just going to be wonderful.
FERRAN GIVES YOU A CHEEKY SMILE JUST TO PISS YOU OFF. He throws his heavy black back right next to you, getting close to you as he patted the seating. “Never drove in a Porsche, hm?” He smiled brightly, way too brightly, before landing his most unfunny joke, “I can tell by the way you’re basically making out with the window. Pick your head up, princesa.”
At his witty comment, you just turn away from him more, wishing to sink into the seat and die. Honestly, it would be better if it was him.
“Don’t pout,” He threw his arm around you, “This is going to be the best twelve hours of your life. Oh, and Paris is just so romantic, bebe.” He teased.
“I don’t need help in this mission.” You retort, lifting his bicep off of you, though you might’ve liked it. Ew, no. You pushed the thought out of your head quickly.
“Ehh, you have no taste, bebe. I’ll get you some extra fashion pieces, yea?” He winked cunningly. Oh, Ferran. He knew how to make you angered in all the right ways. “Or…we don’t need clothes?”
You groaned loudly now, “Just…stop! You don’t need to help me!”
“Stop whining in your…” He looked you up and down, “Expensive ass Dior clothes. It’s all daddy’s money.” Ferran scoffed, continuously laughing at his own jokes. He leaned back, finally deciding to leave you alone and look out the window. You decide to do the same, almost…missing his annoying yet insanely hot Spanish accent.
As the sun set, you look over at Ferran through half-lidded eyes and decide to look at the road, the cows, and the soft-looking grass again, imagining what it would be like if Ferran wasn’t so insanely annoying. Maybe, you two could be star gazing and then he leans over and kisses you. Fuck. You’re not even in the right mind.
IN THE MORNING, your vision is blurry but you feel a warmth spread across your chest. When you look up, you can see your driver hiding his smile as he looks at you.
No, he’s hiding his smile as he looks at you two.
You look up, panicked, and realize you’ve been cuddling with Ferran the whole night. You jolt up and grab your bags, thanking for the ride and looking up at your fancy hotel in Paris.
Right, Paris. You hit Ferran’s shoulder, “Wake up! We have to get this done immediately!” You scowl, pink still flushing your cheeks as you remember his arms around your waist, so strong and—
Ferran stirred, grabbing his bag as he was basically dragged out of the car into the hotel you two would stay at for one night.
“Ow, are you going to drag my ear or what?!?” He scowled, bending down to look into your eyes. You don’t look at him, you just keep walking straight to the elevators.
Your hotel room is gorgeous, to say the least. Everyone is staying here for the luxury fashion event opening tonight, so you two need to keep a low profile. You sit on the bed, tossing Ferran the wrapped chocolate sitting on the freshly made bed.
“You know me so well.” He smiled as he caught it, looking at you sit on the edge. He tilts his head teasingly, “You didn’t notice anything?”
You look around, confused to where he’s getting at, “No, why?”
“One bed,” He teased, laughing as he saw you roll your eyes. He sat next to you, chewing on the caramel chocolate and making it extremely hot in the room.
“We’re only staying here for one night,” You pick up your bag and find the agent head pieces, tinkering around with them until you get your officer and driver on the other end, “Test.”
Ferran grabs his and does the same thing, checking it and putting them both on the nightstand. You cross over to your door, putting on ‘Do Not Disturb’ and bundling your hair into a messy, lazy ponytail.
Ferran leans back on the bed, “Ahh, why’d you put ‘Do Not Disturb’??” He smirks, his voice going suggestive.
“Don’t get any ideas. It’s so the staff doesn’t get suspicious.”
The lights were dim and golden, and you shut the curtains on the Paris lights to prepare for tomorrow. You sat next to Ferran, both of you ready to go to sleep after you discussed plans.
“Enter the event and don’t split up. The event coordinators expect us, the guards are looking out everywhere. Don’t make a scene. So no of your so-called ‘shark attacks.’ Just listen to what our officers tell us.”
“Don’t mess it up this time.”
He smirked, “I won’t. Unless I’m distracted by your dress.”
You two laid down next to each other, but before he could reach out and touch you, you set a pillow right between you two, smiling.
YOU’RE STRUGGLING TO ZIP YOUR DRESS IN THE BATHROOM, FERRAN BEING THE ONLY OTHER OPTION. Grunting, you hold the top of your dress and peak your head out the door, “Ferran, I need help!” You called.
He immediately came to you, fixing his tie. Even if he wore a basic black suit, he looked so fine. You absolutely needed him, and you didn’t even deny it anymore.
And you did. Yet you wished he was telling you that while doing something else.
His fingers brushed against your back before zipping up your dress, “You know I got you that necklace, hm?”
“Worst gift I ever received,” You reply, your words harsh yet voice soft.
“Liar. Let’s go, bebe. We’re matching.”
“But my dress is prettier,” You trail your hands down the lace of the black dress that’s hugging your waist perfectly, Ferran wishing it was his hands hugging your waist, or guiding your hands trailing down your dress, “And I’m just prettier overall.” You add.
He leaned over as you two walked out to the car, holding your purse of equipment, “We’re the pretty agents of the team.” He laughed, “Visuals for the media. That’s exactly why he sent us.”
“Hm?” You turn to him in the car, placing your ear equipment in and covering it with your hair.
“He sent us so we can give a message to the fashion world. And, obviously, take expensive things back for his collection. But, the media won’t be mad at us with our pretty faces. Especially yours. If anything, we’ll look like a couple.” He kissed your hand, making your heart flutter.
“Well,” you whisper, “I’m honored.”
FERRAN STOOD CLOSE TO YOU THE WHOLE EVENT, leading you through hallways and staircases as you felt like all eyes were on you. Announcements and speeches came through as you two slipped into staff-only rooms, directed by your officer.
Ferran held you for a moment, and whispered, “Shark attack,” before letting the chandelier crash.
Everything felt like slow motion. Your officer demanded the message to be sent to the world now, but instead, Ferran leans in and kisses you deeply.
He looks into your eyes deeply, resting his forehead against yours and smiling on your lips once he pulls out, speaking his signature saying on your hot mouth once again, “Shark Attack.”
