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watchmegetobsessed · 18 days ago

Text

UNDONE I.

A/N: i've started like 3 wips these past weeks but finally finished one! so here is some boss!harry for you, let me know if you want more of it, bc i feel like i could def add to this story!

WORD COUNT: 8.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry is obsessed with Y/N. The only problem is that he is her boss, so he keeps this obsession to himself. But everything changes after one drunken night.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry has a love-hate relationship with the glass-walled meeting rooms in the office. Aesthetically they are bringing that well-known, usual vibe of every corporate office, nothing new, nothing unusual. Often, he is irritated that people tend to peek inside as they walk past towards the coffee machine or the restroom. He knows it’s second nature, they don’t necessarily try to intrude, but it tends to frustrate him when he is in the middle of a meeting and a random guy is just staring him down from outside. He tried to get the glass covered, but HR declined, they said something about transparency that just pissed Harry off even more, then he just gave up.

But lately, there’s been an advantage of those see-through dividers, because if people from outside can see in, that means Harry can see everything and everyone outside.

Like right now, as he is sitting by the oval table, laptop in front of him while the lawyers are talking about all the legal documents that are needed for their next deal, it’s an important step and Harry is usually great at focusing on what matters, but today his attention is somewhere else.

Outside of the meeting room, right by Y/N’s desk.

She is the latest addition in the department, a talented analyst who joined a little over three months ago. Harry knows she is great, because he was there at her interview. He is usually not one to attend interviews, but the hiring manager got sick and they needed someone from management to be there as well and Harry had a spare hour he wanted to use to get a little ahead on that tender he’d been working on, but that got thrown right out the window.

It was the last thing he wanted to do, listen to some random analyst who probably never even saw a DWH system, they always think they are qualified to deal with anything, but then they see just how much data they need to work with and then freak out. Harry was convinced it would happen that time too, but he was wrong.

Y/N walked in there, seemingly nervous, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan, looking like a frightened little rabbit, so innocent, so sweet, something surprising happened.

Harry was in awe.

He found himself being drawn towards her, interested in how she’d perform at the interview. He kept a straight face as the recruiter beside him asked her some basic questions and then he took over for the professional part.

He gave her his hardest questions, things even seniors might not know, he quizzed her about topics that are way too specific to work around and… she excelled. She couldn’t answer every question, but she worked up a logic she would use to at least try to tackle the matter and Harry knew she would succeed if she had the right materials.

She blew his mind away. Once she left, he turned to the recruiter and said:

“I want her. Get her to start next week.”

And she did. Next monday, she was holding her onboarding package, eyes bright as she got seated at her desk, ready to start working.

Now she is sitting at the same spot, wearing her blue light glasses, her eyebrows slightly furrowed behind them as she is working on something on her computer. She is wearing a long sundress today with a yellow cardigan to cover her shoulders. Harry has noted her colorful outfits every morning when she strolled into the office, brightening the otherwise dull atmosphere. It’s a whole floor full of developers, analysts and other IT professionals, they are not known for their exquisite fashion taste, but Y/N is different. Her wardrobe is full of colors and pieces others wouldn’t consider as business casual, but somehow she always makes it work.

She is the kind of person that has a nice word for everyone, she often brings coffee to Linda, whose desk is across from hers and they usually have lunch together, Harry has noted. She is always happy to help others, she is great at seeing problems differently and quick to come up with solutions. She is definitely a favorite among her colleagues.

Unlike Harry.

Not that he wants to be liked, he is head of IT, he needs to lead, keep everything under control and make hard decisions. He is not stupid, Harry knows most people in the department fear him, he is not known for being friendly and chatty. He usually has so much work he doesn’t have time left to get a coffee with anyone, not that he would have anyone to invite. He is the gruff boss who is always busy and people try not to cross paths with.

He doesn’t mind it. He likes to be focused on his work and most people don’t realize how hard it is to be the one to decide about budget cuts, downsizing and restructuring, because they don’t see what goes down behind these decisions, they just want to blame someone and that’s usually him. They don’t want to be friends with the big boss who fired their work bestie, even if it was a known fact they never did their job.

It was never an issue for him how his employees saw him. Until her.

Someone stops by Y/N’s desk and he watches her face light up as she gives them her attention. He can’t hear what she is saying, but when she laughs, it rings in his ears. He loves hearing her laugh.

“So what do you think?” one of the lawyers asks him and he snaps back, realizing he has no idea what they were talking about in the last five minutes. He quickly looks down at his notes so far, but there’s no use.

“Uh, I’ll leave it to you. I have to go now, do you think you can have everything set by the end of next week? We need it for the next sprint.”

“Sure,” the guy nods, his name is something with a J, but Harry can’t remember what it is.

He is relieved that he could dodge admitting he has no idea what was talked about, shutting his laptop he murmurs a thank you for the group and he is the first one to walk out of the room, heading towards his office.

Y/N is not at her desk when he walks past and he looks for her, hoping he is not too obvious, but he sees no trace of her. Is she having coffee with that guy who walked up to her desk? Are they planning something outside of work? Does he want to date her?

Harry’s thoughts are racing as he closes the door behind him, shutting out the general buzz of the open office outside. With a sigh, he sits down in his chair, places his laptop onto the desk, but leaves it unopened for a bit as he rubs his face with his hands.

He always has control. He plans and keeps himself to his plan, he gathers data, analyses and then makes a new plan. Easy as it is. This is why he likes his job, IT is usually exact, the problem might be deeply hidden, but it’s always exact, he just needs to find the data.

But he’s been feeling chaotic lately. He is disoriented, can’t focus at meetings and finds himself thinking about her when he is supposed to be working. He just can’t help it.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, then rolls his head, his neck cracks and he lets out a groan before opening his laptop and trying his best to get back to working. The code opens in front of him and he focuses on the lines he’s been trying to rewrite, but right when he is about to start typing, there’s a knock on his door. For a second, he feels irritated that he was interrupted again, but then he looks past the screen and sees her.

Harry nods and Y/N walks through the glass door, holding her laptop to her chest, smiling shyly. Harry likes to think that this smile is for him only, that he is the reason to bring it to her lips, though he doubts he has such an effect on her. But still, it’s a nice thought.

“Hey,” he greets her as she crosses the room and sits across from him.

“Hi. Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“I finished those tables you asked for yesterday, but I wanted to run a few things with you.”

“You… finished?” he asks as Y/N unfolds her laptop, nodding.

“Yeah.” She places the laptop onto his desk and he leans closer, focusing on the screen as Y/N explains what she found unclear, but Harry is still stunned when she is done talking.

“Is it… Is it bad? Not what you thought of?” she asks, seeing his face.

“No, it’s… Y/N, you did this all by yourself?”

“Yes?” Her answer sounds unsure and panic settles in her visibly. “I-I’m sorry if it’s–”

“Y/N, this is brilliant.”

She is taken aback by his compliment, it wasn’t the first time, but it feels like a gift every time for her.

“It is?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t doubt you could do it, but I didn’t think it would turn out this great and you also finished so fast, I thought it would take you the entire week at least.”

“Well… I did stay in a little longer last night,” she admits with a soft chuckle and it tugs on his chest right away. He looks at her over the desk, their eyes meet and for a second, warmth spreads through his veins as he fights the urge to reach out and touch her.

Clearing his throat he leans back in his chair.

“Send it over, I’ll leave comments on those sections and then you can start the migration.”

“Thank you,” she nods, taking her laptop and heading to the door.

“And well done, Y/N,” he calls after her. She just nods and smiles at him before walking out.

Harry watches her return to her desk, takes some deep breaths and forces himself to return to the code on his own computer.

***

Linda wiggles her eyebrows at Y/N once she is sat at her desk.

“Did you two eye-fuck again?” she asks and Y/N gapes at her, quickly looking around to see if anyone heard her, but luckily, everyone is too busy.

“Linda! That’s–We don’t do that.”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, twirling her pen around between her fingers.

“We just went over the tables. He said I did a good job.” She shrugs, but Linda doesn’t miss how the corners of her mouth curl up, though she tries to hide it.

“You do realize you’re the only one in this whole department he has ever complimented, right?”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. Zach go the best reaction from him last spring, when he spent two weeks refactoring a fucked up code, Harry said it was acceptable. That’s all. The fact that he said you did a good job is just another proof that he is into you.”

“Would you stop talking about the head of IT being into me?” Y/N hisses. “Come on, let’s get a coffee before you start screaming it.”

They go down a floor where the coffee station has better options and once they both have a mug full of coffee, they settle by a high table in the common area.

“I have a confession to make,” Y/N admits, but avoids looking her in the eyes. “Okay, go for it.”

“I’m meeting Archer today.”

“Y/N! Not your fucking ex! Why?!” Linda gasps. “Do you really hate yourself that much?”

“I don’t hate myself,” she gives her a look, before returning her gaze to her mug. “He texted me the other day.”

“And you texted him back?”

“Well, yes, of course.”

“Boo! You should have blocked his number a long time ago!”

Y/N has thought about that. A lot. Her asshole ex has come back a couple of times since they broke up about a year ago, they shared one or two nights, but it always ended with him disappearing and leaving her shattered. His comebacks slowed down the process of getting over him a lot and though she feels like she is finally okay, she couldn’t just ignore his text.

“That’s not like me,” she shrugs, ignoring the thought that she knows Linda is right.

“Hun, what do you think will happen today that hasn’t happened before?”

The question stings, right in her chest, because she knows it’s true. Her logical side knows Archer won’t just magically apologize for the way he treated her, even though it’s the only thing she wants from him at this point. To admit that he was in the wrong.

“We’ll talk. That’s it.”

“Please don’t sleep with him,” Linda sighs desperately. “He doesn’t deserve your time.”

“I won’t,” she says, though she is not entirely certain it’s the truth.

“Uh-huh, okay.” Linda checks the time on her phone. “I gotta go, I have a meeting in ten.”

“I’m coming too, I have a lot to do.”

Grabbing their mugs they head out of the common area, back to the upper floor.

***

Harry didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He is the last person to be interested in anyone’s private life in the office.

But when he heard Y/N’s voice as he was about to walk into the room, he stopped and hid behind the wall, listening to a conversation that was truly not meant for his ears.

Hearing the two women talk about Y/N’s ex has ignited something new in him, especially when it became clear that he has hurt her in the past. Harry is not one to become violent, he channels all his tendencies in the gym while boxing, but from what he heard of the guy, he would have gladly punched him in the face. A few times.

Maybe more than a few.

The short conversation tickled his curiosity about what happened, but when he heard that they were about to leave, he quickly walked away so they didn’t see him.

Now as he is back by his desk he can’t focus on the code in front of him at all, his thoughts are only about this mysterious ex Y/N is apparently meeting today. At one point, he even considers giving her some extra work to keep her in late and preferably miss the meeting, but that would be too petty even for him. Instead, he spends the next hour pretending to work while he just keeps fantasizing about different scenarios of what happened between Y/N and the guy.

Slowly, the office starts to empty out as the end of the day nears. Desks get abandoned, lights are turned off and Harry is still there, since he barely got anything done that day.

He sees when Y/N packs up her stuff and leaves and his jaw almost breaks as he holds himself still and just watches her walk out.

“I’m fucking insane,” he mumbles under his breath, willing himself to do some work now that he can’t get distracted by Y/N every time she leaves her desk.

It’s all new to him. This obsession he’s been feeling since the moment he saw Y/N at the interview. An invisible string has been pulling him towards her and it’s unlike anything he has felt with his exes before.

He wasn’t obsessed. He didn’t think of them all the time. He didn’t lose focus when he was seeing someone. But with Y/N, he is losing his precious control and it’s almost scary.

He finally manages to lock in for some work and time flies by. Next time he looks up from his screen the whole office is empty, only his desk lamp giving light and the green haze of the exit signs. It’s past nine and he can hear the cleaner vacuuming somewhere on the floor, so with a tired smile he shuts his computer off, gathers his things and heads out.

He moved less than a year ago and the place he bought is within walking distance of the office. He knows it might have been a stupid idea to get a place just because it’s close to his working place, he probably won’t work there his whole life, but he doesn’t see himself switching for a long time, so it’s convenient.

With his backpack hanging off one shoulder he steps out into the warm evening, the afternoon rush is over, now the nearby bars and restaurants are full of workers desperately needing to let some steam off before heading home.

There’s a small park he walks through before reaching his street and it has always been dear to him, a nice change in the scenery of concrete and glass in the middle of the city. There’s even a small pond along the path that takes him across the park with benches and a handful of ducks are usually circling in the water peacefully.

Older people from around like to come here and sit or take a short walk and they are the only people Harry likes to watch. He admires their slow pace, no rush, just enjoying what they have, a state he dreams of reaching too.

Tonight, as he passes by the pond his eyes spot a familiar figure sitting on one of the benches. He stops in his tracks, questioning if his sight is right, because the person sitting there with her head hanging low looks just like Y/N. As he slowly approaches he notices the soft shaking of her shoulders.

She’s crying.

***

Y/N has been sitting on that bench for… God knows how long. Could have been minutes, could have been hours. She was planning to cry her eyes out at once, then move on by the time she gets home, but apparently, she needs more time to get herself over than she estimated. This spot seemed like a great one, it’s far enough from the lights so people don’t notice she is crying, but she definitely did not expect to be noticed by her boss.

“Y/N?”

Harry’s voice makes her jump and as her head snaps up, she finds herself staring up at the person she least expected to see. His eyebrows are furrowed, concern is written all over his face as he stands a few feet away from the bench, as if he can’t tell if it’s a good idea for him to get closer.

“Oh, hi!” She quickly forces a smile on her face, but she knows she is fooling no one. She wipes her tear-soaked cheeks with the back of her hand and prays her mascara is not smudged all around her eyes in panda style. “What–What are you doing here?”

“I live nearby, I’m on my way home. What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… I was just taking a walk and now I’m… not.”

Her brain does not function. She knows what she said didn’t make any sense, but she can’t think of something else to say. She is way too busy thinking about how Harry is standing right there just after her ex made her wait for him for an hour before texting her he is not coming and when she called him to confront, a woman answered his phone.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to draw the conclusions: Archer was only trying to hook up with her tonight, but apparently found someone else and ditched her. A classic move from an asshole like him, but that doesn’t make her feel less like shit. Mostly because she should have known better and not believe he would do anything other than hurting her.

Harry just stands there for a few moments and Y/N is expecting him to walk away and pretend like he didn’t even see her, but he surprises her when he walks over to the bench and sits beside her.

“Do you want to… talk about what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” she answers right away, but when she looks at him, it’s obvious he doesn’t believe her. With a sigh, she turns her gaze back towards the pond. She is hesitating between keeping it all to herself or just dumping it on Harry and then deal with the consequences later, but right when she is about to make up her mind, he speaks up.

“Is this about… your ex-boyfriend?”

She turns to him with wide eyes.

“How do you…”

A guilty look takes over his face before he shrugs.

“I heard you talking about him earlier. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“I shouldn’t talk so freely with Linda in the office,” she chuckles, shaking her head. They sit in silence, when Harry peeks at her she seems deep in her thoughts and he is desperate to get her to talk, but doesn’t want to push her too much.

As a last resort, he says:

“Do you want to have a drink?”

***

The tequila is burning her throat, she can’t help the frown as she bites into the lemon. When she looks at Harry, she is not even surprised he has the same, unbothered look on his face he had after the previous two shots.

“Uh, how are you taking it so well?” she coughs and then takes a sip from her beer. They were lucky enough to find a table at a bar nearby and she was quick to accept that maybe getting drunk is what she needs right now, even if the alarms are still going off somewhere in the back of her mind, because doing it with Harry might not be her brightest idea.

“I guess I still have some left of my college years,” he shrugs and she starts laughing.

“Don’t tell me you were a party animal in college,” she snorts. The three shots and half a beer has definitely set her tongue free and took away her sense of embarrassment after saying everything that’s on her mind. She will surely regret it in the morning, but right now she couldn’t care less.

Harry likes this version of her. She is always bubbly and talkative, but in his presence he often senses her nervousness. Now there’s no trace of that and he is sinking in every moment of it.

“What do you think I was like in college?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs, the words slurring a bit on her tongue. “Like a… hot nerd?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she realizes only then that she just called him hot.

“I-I mean… I don’t–What I meant is–”

“I was a nerd,” he says, saving her from her rambling. “I was in the robotics club, spent a lot of time in the library, trying to hack their system so I didn’t have to return some books I wanted to keep.”

She can’t help, but laugh as Harry is smiling at the memory as well.

“Did you succeed?”

“What do you think?”

“For sure.”

“Correct,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his beer. “But I went to parties. I had this friend group from highschool, some of them were friends with the popular kids so we were always invited.”

“I can’t picture you with a red solo cup, filled with cheap booze.”

“But it happened,” he chuckles. “Luckily, photos have been deleted from social media.”

“Did you wipe the internet?” she asks, leaning closer as if she was asking him about a secret.

“No, but I did message those who had the photos posted when I was getting higher in my career.”

“Clever,” she nods and grabbing her beer, she takes a few swigs. Then her smile fades. “Maybe I should tell you what happened, right?”

“Only if you want to.”

Sighing she leans back, pursing her lips as she squints her eyes, looking back at him. She can’t think straight. Her thoughts are jumping, one moment she is thinking about Archer, the next all her attention is on how plump his lips look when they are wet from the beer, or the way his top two buttons of his shirt have come undone and she is seeing fucking tattoos, along his collarbones.

She wants to kiss them.

“I was stupid enough to think that I matter to him and he wouldn’t… hurt me. But he did. That’s it, lesson learned.”

She would love to look unbothered, like it doesn’t affect her, but she can’t. Her throat is closing up and when Harry calls out her name softly, she looks up at him with tears in her eyes and wobbling lips.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be crying, I know. I’m sorry!”

“Don’t apologize,” Harry shakes his head, but it’s like she didn’t even hear him.

“I know it’s stupid, but I just thought it might be different this time, that he might apologize and I can finally… I don’t know.”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not. You’re allowed to hope, to want to be treated the right way.”

“But I should have learned my lesson before!”

“You could have, but it’s okay. You will now. You’re smart, smarter than you think. You’ll get over it, doesn’t matter how long it takes, you will get there. I know it.”

“How?” she asks in a whisper, unable to break the eye-contact.

“I don’t know how you’ll do it, but–”

“No,” she shakes her head. “How do you know it?”

He slowly runs his tongue over his lips, thinking his words through before speaking them.

“I just do. Do you believe me?”

Without hesitation she nods.

“I do.”

***

“If someone said one day I would be waiting for an Uber with my boss, drunk out of my ass at two am, I would have laughed them in the face.”

Y/N is holding onto a lamp post with one hand, twirling around it like a little kid as Harry stands by the curb, one hand in his pocket, the other one holding his phone, tracking the Uber that’s supposed to pick Y/N up and take her home. He is watching her with a tiny smile, it’s great to see her so carefree after her breakdown earlier.

“Which part is so unbelievable?”

She stops and steps closer to him. She can’t stand still, keeps shifting her weight between her feet and Harry is on alert in case she loses her balance.

“All of it,” she grins up at him, blinking lazily. “Except the drunk out of my ass. That happens sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Ooh, maybe I shouldn’t have said that. Am I in trouble?”

“Because you get drunk sometimes? You’re an adult, you can do whatever you want.”

“Yeah, but… you’re my boss,” she giggles, then starts swaying as if she could hear some music. “It’s not professional to get drunk.”

“Not when you’re working. But you’re not at work right now.”

“Nope,” she shakes her head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “I’m on the street, with Harry Styles, after drinking with Harry Styles! And now I’m gonna go home in an Uber that Harry Styles ordered for me!”

“Are you enjoying saying my name?” he chuckles, glancing at his phone again, The car is five minutes away. He is already dreading the moment it arrives, because that means the night ends. But he knows she has to get home and sleep it off.

“I do,” she sings. “It has a nice ring to it. It’s a cool name for a cool guy.”

“Oh, so I’m cool?” He knows he shouldn’t take advantage of her drunken state and keep her talking, but he just can’t get himself to stop.

“Yeah. You’re cool and smart and scary sometimes and mysterious, but not tonight,” she giggles as she keeps swaying around, while Harry can’t take his eyes off her, not when she is talking about him. “People at the office are scared of you, but I think you’re great.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. You’re amazing, I always look forward to seeing you. Sometimes I…” She giggles at whatever she is thinking about, completely oblivious at how intently Harry is listening to her. “Sometimes I ask you about things I know just so we can talk.” She shakes her head with a chuckle, but it’s enough for her to lose balance.

She gasps when she starts falling, but he is quick to grab her by her arms, yanking her towards him to keep her from smashing against the concrete. She is not laughing anymore, especially when she realizes that her chest is pressed against his, hands still holding her arms firmly. And his eyes are piercing into her gaze in a way that takes her breath away.

“I love when you come asking questions,” he admits. “That’s usually my favorite part of the day.”

Her eyes widen at his words and when his gaze shifts down to her lips, they part as she gasps for air. Her chest presses even more against his as she fills her lungs and she feels even more dizzy now than before.

“I want to kiss you.”

The words blurt out of her before she could think them through, unaware of the effect they have on Harry. His gaze darkens and it moves down at her lips again. But before he could say or do anything, the Uber pulls up beside them.

Harry lets go of her, then opens the door.

“Get some sleep, Y/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

She blinks at him a few times as he just stands there, waiting for her to get inside. She is confused. Drunk and tired and the longer she stays there the more awkward she feels, so she finally gets into the car, then Harry shuts the door and the car starts moving.

Y/N turns around and sees him still standing there, hands in his pockets, his head hanging low. Then she slides down in the seat, closes her eyes and then replays those couple of moments when she was pressed up against him over and over again until the car stops at her apartment building.

***

Sunday evening Y/N contemplates calling in sick. Preferably with something that keeps her away from the office… forever.

Once she woke in the afternoon of Saturday, sobered up, with a killer headache, memories from last night came crashing down on her and the embarrassment took over instantly. She spent the rest of the weekend in agony, cursing herself out for being so stupid.

Did she really tell her boss she wanted to kiss him?

Yes, she in fact did. After getting drunk with him, crying about her ex and telling him all kinds of stuff she never planned on admitting to him. Like that she finds him cool and smart and sometimes scary.

But the kissing part is obviously the worst.

No matter how badly she dreads Monday morning, time doesn’t stop or slows down, the week starts and she has to go to work and face the consequences of her actions.

Maybe Harry won’t be there. But he is always there.

Maybe she can hide all day and avoid him… until the rest of her life or until she finds a new job. Very unlikely, but whatever.

Her palms are sweating as she swipes her card at the gates and heads up to her floor. She’s getting paranoid, thinking that everyone in the elevator knows what happened on Friday, even though no one even bats an eye in her direction.

Luckily, as she logs into her computer at her desk, work swamps her and provides enough distraction to stop her from throwing up when she sees Harry for the first time.

It seems like he is having a busy day too, he is in and out of meetings for the most part of the noon, she only sees him passing by or sitting in his office with his AirPods in, a sign that he is in an online meeting. But even when he is free for a short time, Y/N makes sure she avoids facing him. She even considers moving to another floor’s common room with her laptop for the day if it means she can survive without running into him and God forbid, talking to him.

But then comes an email.

It’s a bit after lunch time when it pops up in her inbox and her stomach drops to the floor right away when she sees it’s from Harry. Then another wave of anxiety washes over her when she reads it.

FROM: Harry Styles

Come to my office at your earliest convenience. -H

“Oh shit,” she mumbles under her breath and it catches Linda’s ears across from her, who gives her a questioning look. “Nothing.” She just shakes her head, grabs her laptop and then heads to Harry’s office with shaking knees.

Is this the part where he tells her behavior was unacceptable? Did he maybe report her to HR for what she said?

She knocks on the door with a sweaty hand, Harry looks up from his screen with a blank face and nods at her to go inside.

“Hey. I got your email.” She sounds like a frightened little girl as she closes the door behind her and stills, hugging her laptop to her chest.

“Thanks for coming right away.”

Harry pushes his chair back lazily, stands and rounds the desk before leaning against it leisurely, his eyes glued to Y/N who is still standing by the door, too scared to go further. He doesn’t like the distance.

“Come, sit,” he nods towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

Obediently, she walks over and takes a seat, blinking up at him with wide eyes while he looks unbothered and almost… bored. He squints his eyes at her, tilting his head to the side a bit before finally speaking up.

“Is there a specific reason why you’re avoiding me all day?”

Her lips part at his question and her first instinct is to deny.

“I-I’m not–”

“Y/N, you are. Normally, you would have already asked me at least two questions, but instead you walk out of the office every time I step out of mine. You are avoiding me.”

She shuts her mouth, trying to come up with something to say that could save her, but nothing comes to her mind.

“I’m sorry.” Her gaze drops to the floor, his stare is too intense for her. “I’m so ashamed about… everything I said on Friday, I didn’t know how to face you. I said all that… inappropriate stuff you definitely shouldn’t have heard. like… ever. I’m sorry.”

“Y/N,” he softly says, but her gaze remains on her shoes. “Y/N, look at me, please.”

Finally, she dares to move her eyes back to meet his and then he continues… in the most surprising way.

“What I’m about to say, it’s going to be fully unrelated to work. Can you treat it as something outside of this setting?” Y/N nods. “Use your words, I need to hear you say it. Do you understand that this conversation is outside of work?”

“I understand,” she answers weakly, her mouth running dry.

“Good.” He nods and then continues. “Do not feel sorry for anything you said. I’m glad I know all of that. The only downside of it is that now I need every ounce of self-control not to bend you over this desk and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

This time her mouth hangs open. For a moment she is not entirely convinced she hasn’t just imagined it all. That it wasn’t just her sick mind playing tricks on her. But then he speaks again.

“Did you hear what I said? That I want to fuck you into oblivion on this desk?”

“Yes,” she breathes out, trembling.

“Good. Now I want you to go back to your desk and think it through whether you want that too or not. If you decide that you feel the same way, stay late and come back here when everyone is gone. Understood?”

“Yes.”

She feels dizzy, but not the same kind she felt on Friday, this is entirely different. Turning around she walks out of the room, but she’s on auto pilot as she returns to her desk. She leans back in her chair and slowly looks around.

No one in the room knows what just happened. Everyone is just minding their own business while Y/N is on the verge of fainting.

“You alright?” Linda peeks out from behind her screen with a concerned look on her face. “What did he want?”

If only she knew! Y/N thinks. She is dying to share, to take the whole conversation apart and analyze every bit, but she can’t. Instead, she forces a smile to her face.

“Just checked in with me about the migration.”

Linda examines her suspiciously for a second, but then her phone rings and she returns to her work while Y/N opens her laptop as well, but as she stares at the document in front of her she was working on before Harry’s email, she can’t even make out a word.

Instead, she is busy thinking about what happens when the office empties out.

***

Harry was dragged into some urgent issue sometime in the afternoon and it gave him enough work to take his attention away from prying outside, impatiently waiting for everyone to leave while making sure Y/N is still there.

He answers one call after the other while emails keep popping into his inbox and he loses track of Y/N. When he finally drags his gaze away from the screen he looks up and finds the whole floor empty. All of it.

Meaning that Y/N left as well. Groaning he stands from his desk and walks over to the window, staring out into the night that has slowly creeped up on him. He truly thought she would stay. That she felt the same desire and thirst as him and she wants to explore whatever it could be, but maybe he read it all wrong.

How will this affect their work? He should have thought of that before telling her he wants to fuck her on his desk. Who even does that? He is supposed to be her boss, her mentor, this was so incredibly inappropriate, he is thinking about reporting himself to HR and–

There’s a knock on his door.

Turning around he freezes when he sees Y/N standing there with doe-like eyes and with just one look she is already making his pulse jump. He nods, barely noticeably, but she sees it and lets herself inside, closing the door behind her even though it’s truly just the two of them now.

“Hey,” she sheepishly says, stopping exactly where she did earlier when he wrote her that email. This time however, Harry is the one to cross the room and then stop just inches away from her. She wonders if he could hear the wild hammering of her heart in her chest, the dizziness is back and she hides her hands behind her back so he doesn’t notice them shaking.

“Did you think about what I said?”

Harry talks slowly and clearly and she couldn’t tell just moments ago he was freaking out too. But now that she’s there, every racing thought is gone from his mind, all he is thinking about is… her.

“Yes.”

“And what’s your conclusion?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” There’s a tiny bit of sassiness in her tone, just enough to start a fire in him.

She catches the way one corner of his lips curls up as he takes another small step towards her, his hands come up to cup her jaw on either side and he gently tilts her head back, angling it perfectly. Then slowly, he leans closer until his lips are almost touching hers, but then stops. As if he is giving one last chance for her to change her mind, but she is still there, waiting for him to finally break down the wall between them and he gives in.

He lets his hunger take over instantly. There’s no testing the waters, feeling each other up, he kisses her in a demanding, needy way that takes her breath away at first, but she is quick to react the same way.

Her hands move to his shirt, grabbing the fabric at his stomach while his hands are still holding onto her face, but then they slide down her sides, settle on the back of her thighs and she knows exactly what he wants her to do. So without breaking them apart, she jumps up, he catches her with ease as she wraps her legs around his waist and he blindly carries her to the small sofa by the wall.

He sinks into the cushion and she straddles him, giving her a bit of advantage in height this way, so now he is the one to crane his neck while she is leaning down to meet him.

It’s a mess, lip biting, tongues crashing, soft moans and grunts, his palms wander over his thighs and ass and then he sneakily peels her soft pink shirt out of her tight jeans so his hands can slip under the fabric and feel her heated skin.

She is desperate to feel more, to ease the aching throbbing between her legs, so when she starts rolling her hips and grinding against his rapidly growing bulge, he can’t help the moan that slips out of his mouth, right into hers.

His head drops to the back of the sofa and she takes the chance to kiss her way down the column of his neck. After dozens of fantasies doing the same thing during meetings, now she is finally tasting his skin, gently nibbling on a spot that has his hands grab onto her ass, pushing her even more into him.

When their lips meet again her fingers dance down his chest, feeling up his abdomen through his shirt and then settle on his belt, she starts undoing it, but he is quick to stop her, which breaks her out of her trance., scared that she did something wrong.

Reading her from just one look, Harry shakes his head softly.

“I know I said I want to bend you over my desk, but I don’t want the first time I’m inside you to be here. So we are gonna do it differently for now.”

As he speaks, his fingers work the buttons of her shirt, one after the other until the white, lacy bra is revealed underneath.

“Is it fucking Christmas?” he breathes out, hooking a finger into one of the cups and tugging it down so your breast spills out of it. An airy chuckle slips out of her, but it quickly turns into a gasp when he sucks her pebbled nipple into his mouth, even gently biting and tugging on it. Her fingers comb through his hair, his fingertips massaging his scalp as her grinding continues.

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do,” he murmurs against her chest, one hand freeing her other breast from the bra as well, so he can pay equal attention to them both. “You’re gonna grind that needy cunt of yours against me until you come, just so you can see what it is like when you’re not even undressed and imagine what will happen once I get to unwrap you.” He smacks her ass gently, a moan slipping out through her parted lips. “And I’m gonna leave marks all over tits and suck your nipples until they are so tender you can barely touch them, so when you go home and see yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember every moment of what’s happening right now.”

His hands grab her hips and make her roll them harder, his erection and the seam of her jeans rubbing into her soaking wet cunt. She eagerly takes the pace he dictated, desperate to chase her release that’s building in the pit of her stomach rapidly.

“Do you like that? Do you like my plan?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nipple, teasing her with his touch just enough to make her whine and ache for more.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, hands clasping the back of his head to pull him closer to her chest and feel his lips on her heated skin again and he complies happily.

“Then let me feel how badly you want to come.”

If someone told Y/N in the morning, that tonight she would be dry humping her boss like a horny teenager, she would have checked that person into a mental hospital. Yet here she is, grinding against Harry’s massive bulge, shamelessly rubbing her cunt against his erection while his mouth is full of her breast.

He has already left a few marks on her and she knows she’ll have to wear turtlenecks for the next 2 weeks, but she couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she cries out when she finds just the right angle where the seam of her jeans and the tip of his restrained cock rub her clit perfectly, sending sparks through her nerves.

“Go on, want to see you come undone.” He bites the side of her left breast and she hisses, but it feels so good, so fucking great she moans loudly, her head falling back at the sensation.

“Harry, I–Ah!”

His hands grab her ass and he pulls her in, making her fall forward, her chest pressing up against his as she buries her face into his neck, fastening her movements as her orgasm is nearing.

“Come on, Y/N. Let me see you come undone.”

“Wanna feel you inside,” she whines, but keeps moving.

“I know and you will. Just not now.”

She whines again in a disapproving manner, but doesn’t stop and Harry’s hips start moving as well. He encourages her a few more times, his lips brushing against her ear, sending shivers down her spine and right when she thinks she can’t take it anymore, the bubble pops.

She gasps and moans, her movements get dragged out and Harry forces her to look him in the eyes as she rides out her joy. She loses track of time, can’t tell if it lasts for seconds or hours. But when it’s over she collapses into his arms.

“You did so good. So fucking good,” he murmurs into her ear, kissing the side of her face wherever he can reach. When she finally catches her breath she sits up straight and looking down she sees that he’s still hard underneath her.

Instantly, she reaches down, ready to take him out and take care of him, but he stops her again.

“Not now.”

“But you… didn’t–”

“I know,” he smiles softly. “But if we go further now, I won’t be able to stop and I told you, I want the first time I’m inside you in a different setting.”

She understands and it’s flattering knowing he wouldn’t be able to control himself if they continued, but it feels unbalanced now that only she came.

“Are you sure?” she asks, hands flattening on his stomach.

Smiling, he nods. “Very sure.”

She thinks to herself for a bit and reaching up Harry brushes a lock of hair behind her ear as a smile stretches slowly across her face.

“What is it?”

“So… this means there will be a next time?”

The playful glint in her eyes amuses him. She is sitting on his lap, her chest still exposed, lips swollen from his kisses while his erection is still straining against his pants and she asks if there will be a next time.

“Oh yeah. I will watch you come undone over and over again in every possible way. If you let me.”

She bites into her bottom lip, sheepishly blinking down at him, but her answer surprises him for a moment.

“I’m not letting you.” His face falls and his heart drops into his stomach, but she is quick to continue: “I’m begging you.”

“Oh baby, for that, now I’m adding spanking to when I’m bending you over my desk and fuck you.”

Her smile only grows wider.

“Please, Boss!”

PART II.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut

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stripe-conlon · 7 months ago

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To add to this, it’s a very…Lancastrian Christian view to see “god commanded me to love you” and following through with it as a good thing. I won’t say it’s American fundamentalism as a whole (although continued ticket sales at Sight & Sound, their expansion to Branson, MO, and their recent foray into actual movies instead of filmed stage shows speaks for itself) but it’s definitely very Lancaster County.

can’t remember what particular flavour of Christian fundamentalism the owners of Sight & Sound are, but they did grow up and found their theatre in a heavily Mennonite and Amish area. It’s a very heavy Mennonite and Amish area and those views, twisted with fundamentalism, are obvious in every Sight & Sound production, even their lighthearted “history of Christmas music and celebration” style show. Doing the will of God, in the eyes of the owners and their creative teams, must always be presented positively and as if you do personally like doing it.

In Esther and…I think also in Ruth (or maybe Moses?) there are times when one of the Hebrew characters talks about not liking God’s will but it’s always played for laughs. It’s something I’ve always fundamentally disagreed with and felt uncomfortable seeing in their productions. And thanks to my uncle working there, I’ve seen a lot of the shows. Esther, I think, was the first time I’d seen a character express fear over their situation and that was a massive development over how they previously wrote their protagonists as firm, resolute, and confident in doing God’s will. But even her fear felt inhumanly confident compared to, for example, Thor’s clear moment of doubt, looking at his hammer, in the Avengers after he fell from the Helicarier. Sight & Sound’s biblical heroes, frankly, aren’t human and aren’t relatable, unlike the people they’re meant to represent. And that is an intentional choice by Sight & Sound, fueled by Christian Fundamentalism.

I know in another post you mentioned how the actor made that line sound like hatred, I can tell you with confidence that it was the actor’s choice and he would have gotten a note about not doing it again after the show.

Drew a scene from the Daniel musical but added a more angsty tone. This moment in the musical is meant to be seen as: 'Aww, look! God is making Daniel love the king despite everything he’s done to him, and he even cares about the king! Isn’t this wholesome?'

But I’m sitting here thinking: 'THAT'S NOT CUTE AT ALL!'

Also, this is not King Darius, it’s the first king that Daniel served, King Nebuchadnezzar (they kinda look the same at the moment).

#side question #since I haven’t seen Daniel #did they pull the cross out and do a whole bloodline of Jesus bit at the end?#tw religion #also one time I interviewed to be on the grounds crew #they asked me about my personal relationship with Jesus Christ #I was so shocked I stumbled through a half-assed answer and am pretty sure it’s why I didn’t get the job #the head groundskeeper didn’t care and didn’t ask #HR called me up later and said their interview guy ‘forgot to ask’ and asked me themselves

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sillyheartmagazine · 2 years ago

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#HR Interview Questions #Answers for Freshers

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12amconfessions · 2 years ago

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crazy that this time tomorrow I'll be interviewing someone for the job I vacated when getting promoted

#it has been the WORST experience and I may not even like the candidate #because upper management doesn't recognize #that people in my profession would like to work from home full time #and we still have to go into the office 2 days a week #even though there's really no reason to #we had to post it for an extra week because I only had 2 people pass HR to begin with #of the 10 people who applied in total - 4 made it past HR #of those 4 - 2 made it past my/my supervisor's review #of those 2 - 1 made it past Civil Service's review #like if I would have known that earlier I wouldn't have screened the people I did for not attaching their paperwork and then saying they di #just to see if they interviewed better than they filled out applications #but attention to detail matters so much #so if you answer a question saying you attached things and then didn't...? it tells me you didn't really want to have the job #and if I don't like them I have to wait another 60 days before I can have it posted again

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nxtclues · 5 months ago

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Mastering the 4 Key Types of Interview Questions

Anxiety Before an Interview is Natural … Don’t Worry, Just Prepare!

Preparing for an interview can feel overwhelming, especially when you’re unsure about the types of questions you might be asked. Interviews aren’t just about testing your qualifications; they’re about uncovering and knowing who you are as a professional, what is your thinking process, and how you’ll fit into a company’s culture for long term. To succeed, you must understand the four main types of important interview questions: Fact Questions, Soft Skill Questions, Attitude Questions, and Technical Skill Questions.

By mastering these types, you not only succeed in interviews but also gain insights into yourself—an investment that pays long-term dividends like building Soft Skills like leadership and communication skills. Let’s understand each type, with examples and tips to help you prepare.

1. Fact Questions: Establishing Your Background.

Purpose: These questions validate your resume and ensure your qualifications match the job requirements.

Example Questions:

Can you walk us through your education and work experience?

What certifications or training programs have you completed?

Have you worked on projects similar to this role before?

What They Uncover: Interviewers want to confirm facts like your qualifications, job history, and specific achievements. These questions test how well you can share your professional journey.

2. Soft Skill Questions: Assessing Your Conflict Management, Collaboration and Communication Skills

Purpose: These questions evaluate your interpersonal skills, teamwork, and ability to navigate workplace dynamics.

Example Questions:

Can you describe a time when you successfully resolved a workplace conflict?

How do you handle constructive criticism?

Tell us about a time you worked in a Team to achieve a challenging goal.

What They Uncover: These questions highlight soft skills like communication, problem-solving, and leadership. Employers use them to gauge your ability to work with others and adapt to diverse situations.

3. Attitude Questions: Measuring Your Work Ethic and Mindset

Purpose: These questions assess your personality, motivation, and cultural fit within the company.

Example Questions:

How do you handle failure or setbacks?

What motivates you to perform well at work?

How do you adapt to changes in the workplace?

What They Uncover: Employers look for positive attitudes, resilience, and a growth mindset. These are critical traits that determine how well you’ll align with the company culture.

4. Technical Skill Questions: Validating Your Expertise

Purpose: These questions test your proficiency in the specific skills required for the job.

Example Questions:

Can you walk us through how you would solve [specific problem related to the role]?

What tools or software or processes are you proficient in?

How do you stay updated with the latest trends in your field?

What They Uncover: These questions measure your technical expertise and problem-solving capabilities. They show whether you have the knowledge and skills to perform the job effectively.

So, Invest in Interview Preparation for Long-Term Success

Preparing for these important interview questions goes beyond just getting a job. By investing time and some amount in coaching for interviews, you not only learn how to prepare for interviews but also develop long-term skills like leadership, communication, and adaptability. These skills will help you grow professionally and stand out in a competitive job market and also at your existing workplace.

Remember, every question is an opportunity to showcase your strengths and demonstrate why you’re the best fit for the role. With the right preparation, you’ll not only ace the interview but also set yourself up for a successful career journey!

#Interview Questions for Fresher #hr questions and answers for interview #answers for interview questions for freshers #hr job questions and answers for interview #job search near me #job hunting sites #job consultancy near me

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plutoswritingplanet · 1 year ago

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Vicarious (Homelander x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: guys... you can't tell me y'all weren't expecting this. Title from the song "Vicarious" by Tool. Really wanted this to be a one shot, but as usual, I have shit to say. Will be Cross-Posted on AO3 as soon as they open the site back up.

Warnings: Nothing Explicit YET, some sexist remarks and creepy behavior from the man of the hour, Questionable Corporate Ethics, Set Before The Events Of The Show, Reader is written to be Plus Size.

Summary: Sidekick projects have been scraped completely after numerous accidents, but as a viral video of your hero work makes rounds through the public, you're forced to take part in a six moths program, that will forever change your life, as well as Homelander's

PT.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5

It all started with a video. An insignificant, minute-long nothing posted to TikTok by an account, that up until then, made short edits specifically of A-Train and some B-list no-name hero. Quickly, it gained traction, making rounds throughout the app, bleeding over to other services, all the way to national television. First, an independent local station, soon picked up by a Vaught-affiliated one. Normally, that's where it would've stayed. Stillwell would extend an offer of a chance at an interview, alongside one of the Seven. But for some unknown reason, that small piece of nothing climbed all the way up to the floor eighty-two of Vaught Tower.

Well, to be quite honest, Stillwell knew exactly why she was in this situation. After a very messy graduation speech at a small college, Homelander lost almost twenty points with a young adult demographic. It would've been an easy fix, if not for the delicate nature of the breached subject, and Madelyn knew, this sudden interest in a nobody from nowhere, who, coincidentally, fit the demographic perfectly, was anything but a happy accident. It was a test, both for Homelander, and for her.

Which is why, Madelyn Stillwell and Homelander, the Homelander, the most American supe to ever exist, are cooped up in your living room, glancing about the modest decor, as you pour iced tea into three glasses with tacky fruit print all over them.

You've refused every single invitation, every single Vaught representative that knocked on your door. Your inbox was flooded with emails, your phone number was blowing up two, three times a day. And yet, your answer remained the same. You were not interested in a collaboration, thank you for the opportunity, please leave me alone.

That wouldn't fly, not with Madelyn, who, pushed by the constant nagging from the upper levels of the Tower, decided a more direct approach was the right one. So, she dragged herself into this… Well, to be quite honest, bum-fuck-nowhere, and brought her star pupil with her. No one would refuse working with Homelander himself, after all. At least that's what they both thought.

-I appreciate the effort - there's a practiced, borderline bored intonation in your voice, and Homelander's hands flex on his thighs - But I've already talked with, um, Jerry? From HR? The answer is still no.

Your house is small, but cozy, with sunshine pouring through the windows, reflecting onto the beaded curtain hanging in the doorway to your kitchen. An artist's home, through and through. Homelander hates it, hates the ordinariness of it all. He was so much above all this, sitting on your worn down couch physically hurt him. And the smell. The smell was the worst part. Reheated lasagna, mixing with a lingering aftertaste of cigarette smoke, and an undercurrent of weed, that almost made him retch. If it weren't for that damned video, you would be nothing more, than another brainless ant under his boot.

-Well, we - Madelyn offers her best, brilliant smile, gesturing to herself and Homelander - are very passionate about discovering new talent.

Your mouth twitches into a knowing smile, and for just a second Homelander feels flames of intrigue rising in his chest. Not for long, though, because you recline back into an armchair, taking a sip of the iced tea, and his eyes flash to the way your throat moves as you swallow. You could be hot, he concludes. Young, and with a truly spectacular rack. But there was something off about you, like you were constantly on the verge of dying from boredom, some invisible weight always on your shoulders. No amount of fake smiles and high-end makeup could cover that up.

He'd fuck you. If you'd beg him.

-We want to offer you a new, revised contract - Stillwell extends her hand with a rather thick binder of papers, and you hesitate for a moment, before reaching over. - Hopefully, it will make you reconsider.

You don't even show them the decency of looking through it, placing it on the table instead, and Homelander feels an itch form itself in the corners of his eyes. Stillwell looks taken aback as well, her brilliant smile faltering for just a second. You on the other hand, take another sip of your drink, before placing it right in the middle of the contract, the moisture from the ice creating a wet circle in the paper.

Your heartbeat is even, it doesn't pick up even a smidgen, when you look between Stillwell and America's Greatest Hero, who is slowly but surely growing annoyed by your persistent indifference.

-Thank you, but I already said no - you repeat, and this time, Homelander shifts on the couch.

-And why not? - he asks, tension entering his voice in a way, that makes Madelyn squirm - Countless supes, with much more impressing powers than you, I might add, would kill to be in your place.

"To work with me" goes unsaid, but he can see in your eyes, you read it from thin air of superiority engulfing him. Annoyingly perceptive. You nod your head slowly, before turning away from them, looking out of the window of your living room. There's a small patch of grass, and a second house, so similar to yours, but at the same time, completely different. Your chin sticks out in its direction, and Homelander follows with his eyes.

There are paper butterflies stuck to the windows, cut out clumsily, most likely by children's hands.

-My neighbour, Missus Johnson - you explain - She lives there, with her three kids. Her husband died in a fire caused by your friend, Lamp Lighter.

Madelyn stills, Homelander raises an eyebrow.

-I can afford this house, only because my mother signed an NDA, after The Deep sank my father's fishing boat. - again, your heart stays completely unaffected - Accidentally, of course.

-I was not aware… - Madelyn starts, and it's hard to decipher whether she's talking to you, or Homelander.

Someone at the research department is going to have a very unpleasant evening.

-That's alright - you interrupt her with a raised hand and a small smile - This whole neighborhood is filled with similar cases. And I'm very, very attached to this place.

Why, Homelander couldn't tell. For all he knew, this was some shit hole, right in the suburbs outside New York. Not even the half decent ones. A forgotten by everyone, dying piece of land, that housed insignificant humans, who would never amount to anything, you included. He lived in a lavish apartment, inside a miracle of modern architecture. Who wouldn't want the same?

-And - there's something new entering your tone of voice - If I'm going to betray everything I stand for, I need to give something back to those people. Does your contract reflect that?

Madelyn bites the inside of her cheek, her scrutinizing gaze making your skin itch. Still, she sighs after a moment, excusing herself with that same, practiced expression she uses on every shareholder. Homelander follows her out, nodding his goodbye to you, but before he can leave this dump, Madelyn stops him with a hand pressed against his chest. She gives him one look, makes him aware that his job isn't over, and he can feel the muscles of his face twitch.

So, obediently, he lingers in your doorway, taking a few calming breaths, before facing you once more.

You've changed positions, your armchair abandoned in favor of sitting by the window, one leg bent in a way, that shows quite a nice view of your calf, your long skirt pooling around you. Homelander's eyes trail up with mild interest, and he indulges in his X-ray vision. He's just being curious, nothing more.

Your underwear is, well, for the lack of a better word, plain. The bra seems to be slightly ill fitted, digging into the sides of your breasts, making them almost spill from under your pits, and Homelander swallows thickly at the sight. There are little, pink hearts on your panties. The colors are dull and washed out from frequent use, and the once frilly lace is starting to fray at the edges.

Apparently Vaught's compensation was not sufficient for you to buy some decent undergarments.

-Do you want something to eat? Drink? - you ask from your place by the window, and Homelander is snatched back to reality - Do you even need food?

The bluntness of the question startles him, makes him feel defensive, but Madelyn wanted results, so he puts on a mask of his trained smile, and crosses the room. Back straight like an arrow, he looks wildly out of place between all the linens and cushions. He doesn't look at you, trapping your smaller form in the confinement of the window, as he watches over the neighboring house.

-I'm not hungry - he shoots down your offer with a wave of his hand - I've already eaten.

A lie, but he'd never stoop low enough to take any leftovers, especially from you. Still, the offer seems nice. He does like being pampered, even if it's with lackluster things. Your eyes linger on his boyish smile, another practiced thing, and Homelander shifts focus to your heartbeat once again.

-Alright then - your voice sounds indifferent as ever - Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to make some dinner for myself.

He offers a small nod, and watches you from his position by the window, as you slip past him. It does require quite a lot of manoeuvering, but you manage to stand without touching him. He has to admit, watching you balance, as you try to avoid him, was amusing. Still, your heart beats calmly, and, not wanting to be left on his own, Homelander follows you to your kitchen. The beads of the courtain drum delicately over the bronze eagles on his shoulders.

The fridge is buzzing something awful. He can see just how run down the inside mechanism is, the hinges squeaking unbearably, as you reach for a box of reheatable spaghetti. There's cheep beer inside, a moldy lemon, a carton of milk pretty close to expiring, and a half-used bottle of spicy ketchup. Homelander doesn't even recognize these brands, they're not sponsored by Vaught, that's for sure.

Cheap, tasteless, basically offering no nutritional value.

-Would you step back for a second? - he asks, already wrenching himself between you and that pathetic excuse of a meal.

Again, your body sways to avoid touching him, and for some unknown reason, he finds it very amusing.

Then, you watch with a raised eyebrow, as he turns towards your spaghetti, a red sheen overtaking his eyes. An unbearably hot beam shoots out, making the insides of the plastic packaging sizzle. Finally, that gets him a reaction, as you gasp and reel back, colliding with the barely functional fridge. Your heart does a flip inside your chest, and Homelander soaks up your shock like a man starved.

Only when the red fizzles out of his gaze do you dare to move, approaching him slowly, your eyes bearing into him in a way that is frankly uncomfortable.

He turns to you with another one of his charming smiles, trying to handle this sudden scrutiny in as flippant a way as possible.

-I had no idea you can control the intensity of your lazer - you admit, voice slightly breathless.

-Pretty neat, huh? - perhaps he's fishing for more attention, but he doesn't care, because your eyes light up for just a moment in sheer wonder.

-Super cool, actually.

Yeah. Yeah, that's fucking right, he is super cool. And your heart is beating so much faster, and finally you're looking at him as if he's more than just some guy, some living advertisement you're determined to ignore.

And then your eyes shift, eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly, as you zero in on his shoulder. Something akin to a wave of amusement flickers across your expression, and to his general surprise, Homelander wants to know what's the cause of this shift. Your lips pull back into a smile, teeth peaking at him in all their glory. He can almost imagine them running down his skin, before he pushes the thought back all together, as the lower portion of his suit becomes slightly too tight for comfort.

-Well, thank you for saving the spaghetti - your eyes hold a spark of amusement - My hero.

Okay, alright, he's hard. There's no point denying it. However annoying and insignificant you were moments before, your quip goes straight to his loins, burning enough, for him to consider just how mad Stillwell would be, if he'd have a taste of this newly discovered talent.

If he stands any closer to you, he might find out, because this special little moment you two have shared, is crudely interrupted by Madelyn clearing her throat. Homelander nearly jumps back, you however barely turn your head, reaching for your spaghetti and arming yourself with a fork.

-I've spoken to my supervisor - Stillwell announces, clearly peeved by the way you start chewing on the noodles - A new version of the contract will be emailed to you as soon as possible. Hopefully it will be satisfactory.

-Thank you, Miss Stillwell - you answer with an inclination of your head.

With that, Madelyn nods her goodbye at you, refusing to shake your hand, which does amuse you, you're not going to lie. Homelander however, goes all out, capturing your fork-weilding arm, his fingers sneaking around your wrist like a bracelet. Or a shackle. Then, you watch with a confused arch to your eyebrows, as he brings you closer, until his lips press onto the protruding knuckles. Now that, admittedly, gets your heart going. You were not an easily embarrassed person, not by a long shot, but you could feel blood rushing towards your face all the same.

He has to hold his breath, as he kisses your hand in that charming, gentleman way he's seen in old movies. The smell of pasteurized tomato sauce blows in his direction, like a direct assault on his senses. Still, he needed something that would make you swoon. If everything failed, he knew how to be intimidating, but for now, perhaps he wanted to try something different. Something that would yield much more pleasant results, for the both of you. Mostly for him, let's be honest.

Madelyn asks him to stay back, spy on you throughout the night, and he begrudgingly agrees, if only to mask the fact, that he would do so of his own volition, had she not brought it up. And as such, he floats into the rapidly cooling air, disappearing into the darkening sky, where you wouldn't be able to see him even if you tried. He could see you however, and hear you, and he was about to make the most of the situation.

He spends the whole evening just watching you exist within your space. Normally, it would piss him off beyond belief. You weren't doing anything scandalous, anything that could warrant his attention. And yet, as he floats on, in time lowering himself just slightly, to get a better view, he just can't seem to look away. The spaghetti is gone in approximately fifteen minutes, as you inhale the supermarket food, walking around the living room, the kitchen, getting a few bites on the porch even. You seem so utterly unfazed by the events of the past hour, like you haven't just had America's Greatest Superhero try to convince you to work with him. It's honestly insulting, this lack of reaction.

Then, finally, he can hear a distinct ping of a new email come from your laptop, and you sit down on the couch with a small huff. Your eyes move, your lips twitch, and then he hears your heart stop in your chest. As if working on autopilot, your hand travels up, covers your mouth in shock, and you lean back against the worn-down sofa, eyes glued to the screen illuminating your face in a blue-ish light.

-...fuck… - you whisper, and despite himself Homelander floats even closer to your window.

Finally, he has the chance to peak over the curtain. To sneak into the backstage of the award winning production of your defenses, and see what goes on in those bored eyes of yours, when they're not guarded. And what he sees makes his suit feel much too tight, his body too warm. Quite an unusual thing to get so worked up about, but he's the goddamned Homelander, he can get hard whenever he fucking wants. And so, as saliva gathers on his tongue, he presses himself against the tiles on your roof, all the warmth of the day soaking into his skin through the thick material of his suit.

With a shaky hand you reach over towards your phone, putting in a number and pressing the call button, before standing straight from the couch, almost knocking the laptop over.

-Hey, what's up? - someone says on the other end of the line, and Homelander tries to focus more on the words flowing from the receiver.

-Oh, you gotta sit down for that one - you warn with an anxious chuckle, taking the familiar place by the window.

With your free hand you reach up to open the window all the way. Then, Homelander sees your fingers slip between the pillows and pull out a rather beaten up pack of cigarettes.

Naughty, naughty, he thinks, watching you produce a lighter from that same hiding place.

-Alright, I'm sat like never before.

The voice sounds vaguely female, although the shitty quality of your phone makes it hard to decipher. Your lips pull back into a toothy grin, and you blow out the smoke through the window. It curls upwards and dissipates into the air, right above the roof, where Homelander swallows thickly around a coughing fit.

-You will not believe who visited me today…

-The ICE - the voice deadpans, and you snort around another huff of smoke.

-Pretty fucking close, let me tell you - he doesn't appreciate the joke, not at all - Fucking Homelander.

The line goes completely quiet for a moment, and with every second your grin seems to be growing.

-Deadass?

-Yup - your lips purse, and Homelander zeroes in on the expression - Flew in all Star's Spangled Glory with some Vaught big fish. They tried to convince me to join the Seven.

-And obviously you said yes, because what the fuck else do you do in that situation?

Your grin slowly fades away, and you lean your forehead on the window frame.

-You didn't?

-I didn't.

Again, it's quiet.

Homelander shifts a bit in his position, adjusting against the warmed up tiles of the roof, his X-ray vision bearing into you. Out of curiosity, he looks deeper, eyes floating over your insides. You're relatively healthy. Some vitamin deficiencies, but nothing too serious. And despite that nasty habit lodged between your fingers, your lungs are clear, at least for now. There's a softness to your body, your muscles barely visible, as if you're just another gray human. Oh, and there's a bit of an eyesight problem forming, not enough to warrant glasses, but that shouldn't take long, considering your lifestyle.

-The contract they gave me was really good, you know - you muse to the phone, your leg dangling from the windowsill - Six months of working under Homelander, a Sidekick kinda situation.

-I thought they scraped the Sidekick program - the person on the other side wonders - Too many casualties or something.

-Yeah, well I guess they want to bring it back.

-Why did you say no then? I'm sure they pay is gigantic.

Again, you smile. This one much more reserved, bordering on sad. There's that strange kind of exhaustion settling into your bones again, same one Homelander noticed when he first saw you. Your shoulders slump forward, and you curl into yourself between the cushions.

-It was, it was… - you mutter - But I needed something more, for the neighborhood, ya know?

Your caller hums softly in understanding, and Homelander feels like something is passing him by. Some unspoken fact, that you and your friend find obvious.

-And - you hesitate, eyes flickering towards the laptop, your heart beat picking up ever so slightly - They sent me a revised contract. And it's fucking good. Really fucking good. It could help this entire place get back on its feet.

-But you still don't want to - the voice says for you, without judgement.

-No - you sigh - I really, really don't.

-Say no then - your friend supplies, and once again Homelander feels a flame of annoyance start to burn within him - No one else knows about the contract, there will be no expectations.

Slowly, you nod your head, clearly relieved by the way your friend reacted to the news. Homelander however, caught you right where he needed you. That's your lever. Not seduction, not intimidation, just plain, stupidly human guilt.

-Thank you - you whisper into your phone, finally smiling again - Oh, wanna know one more thing?

-Obviously.

-Homelander's wearing a padded suit.

Something's stuck in his throat, as he reels back from his position. Before he can stop himself, his eyes begin to glow red, because how the fuck did you know?

-Okay, that's bullshit.

-Unless his shoulder dislocated in the middle of talking, then no, it's definitely not bullshit.

Your friend gives out a choked laugh, one which you mirror with your own. If Homelander wasn't so utterly flabbergasted by your (correct) observation, he would've stopped to appreciate the sound. As it stands, however, he pushes himself off your roof, a couple of broken pieces falling off of the tiles. And then he's up in the air, cutting through the winds, headed straight for the Tower, leaving you in the comfort of your insignificant, smelly home.

The contract is leaked before the sun is up.

You're awoken to thousands of news articles flooding your timeline, all listing the truly wonderful and selfless points in the fated email. With a white face, you read them all, the speculations, the theories, the angry comments about you being chosen without an actual casting, while all those up and coming supes are busting their asses in auditions.

Soon enough, you're visited by every neighbour possible, congratulating, thanking you. A barbecue is set in the street, as a way of celebration, and you want to throw your phone, and subsequently yourself into the nearest river.

Madelyn Stillwell sends you an email, scheduling a meeting at the Vaught Tower. No need for pleasantries at this point, you stare at the bare bones invitation. "We eagerly await the start of our partnership" looks back at you, mocking your resolve. And thus, the end of your life as you know it begins.

"Project Delinquent"

The words are printed in an ugly, corporate font, and they stare back at you, outlining the mold you're supposed to fit in, in such a perfect way, it actually, almost makes you retch. True, during high school you were quite the little rebel, but people grown and learn, and seeing your character be watered down to that simple word, does send a wave of nausea through your insides. Even if this is hell of your own making, even if you're ready to swallow it all down with a smile, there's a pang of humiliation stinging your heart.

The armchair in Stillwell's office is uncomfortably narrow. It barely has enough room to accommodate your hips, and you wonder if this design is intentional. There is a growing ache in your calves, as you sit so close to the edge, you can't fully relax into your position, balancing on your feet instead. The armrests dig into your sides, and the way the sun is shining through the gigantic windows of the office, is shaping this charade of a meeting into an overstimulating nightmare. Still, you endure. For all the wonderful benefits enclosed in your contract, the charity work Vaught is going to supply.

Or at least, that's what you keep telling yourself, stuck between the marketing department representatives and a literal Devil of a woman.

Madelyn Stillwell doesn't know what to make out of you. Your files were filled with all sorts of questionable activity, especially around the college area. It's honestly a miracle you've managed to get your degree, and attend all those silly little demonstrations at the same time. Your criminal record has been wiped clean, weeks before you even agreed to sign the contract, just in case any leaks would find their way into the media. Leaks that were not orchestrated by Madelyn, of course.

High school rebellion was almost too easily marketable, Madelyn decided to focus on that part of your life as much as possible, her vision slowly coming to fruition. All she needed, really, was cooperation. And while you seemed to be mostly receptive to her ideas, she needed to make sure Homelander was on his best behavior. Which, well… Could go sideways in the worst way imaginable, but Stillwell tried to have some faith in her best superhero.

The idea of releasing details of your contract to the public, was a stroke of genius, she did not expect from Homelander, and she made sure he was thoroughly rewarded. With him, it was always better to choose the hands-on approach, unfortunately. With you, however, ideals were the key. Whatever feeling of solidarity you harbored towards your neighborhood, provided a leverage relatively easy to control. Still, as Stillwell looked you over, crammed into her office in your, frankly, lousy attire, she couldn't help but be just a tad worried about your compliance.

-…And then - the marketer continues with a dramatic gasp - Homelander comes in. America's Greatest Hero, offers you a mentorship. And you…

You look up at the representative with a rather sour expression. They have to work on that too. Media training was crucial. You won't be able to sell anything, if you keep grimacing like that all the damned day.

-… Are starstruck - your mouth twitches - You strike up a deal, selfless. A rebel with a heart of gold. Finally, you can make some real change happen, so you push aside your anti-corporate values, to discover, that Vaught is so much more, than you could possibly imagine.

It's hard not to laugh, and you swallow thickly, biting your lip, as a middle-aged woman you don't recognize gets up from the couch, and makes her way to the wall opposite of your torture chair. There, tucked in a corner and hidden under a black cloth, stands a mannequin, roughly your size. With a flourish you find utterly out of place, the woman tugs at the cape, and as it falls to the floor, so does your stomach. You can't hold it in any longer. A rough snort of laughter rips out of your nose, and you cover your mouth instantly.

-That better be a laugh of delight - Ashley, a ginger menace, mutters under her breath, and Stillwell turns to you with a tight expression on her face.

-Something the matter?

-I mean - you take a deep, grounding breath, tying your amusement in the back of your throat - I knew it's going to be skimpy, but this is…

You look around the room, seeing various stages of corporate outrage, and then you lock eyes with Homelander. Stillwell insisted on his participation in the meeting, as the both of you are supposed to work closely together, and throughout the whole ordeal, he looked borderline ready to die of boredom. Now, however, his eyebrows lift in a curious manner, as he takes in the, to be completely honest, horrendous costume, and your full figure. Something dangerously close to disgust twists your features, as he shamelessly drags his eyes all over your body.

Who would've thought America's Sweetheart was a fucking creep?

Rolling your eyes, you get up from the cursed armchair, your knees cracking loudly. Crossing the room, you take a closer look at the clothing, or rather, lack there of. Torn fishnets, plaid tennis skirt, and a corset top, made out of some leather-like material. Truly, a fetishists wet dream. Your fingers sample the fabric of the skirt. Surprisingly stiff, it seems to beg for a wardrobe malfunction. With a frown pulling down your lips, you lift the material up, and as expected, find no safety shorts underneath.

Homelander watches you intently, as you inspect the costume. Just the thought of your soft body in this skimpy, corporate bastardization of a rock star, makes heat rise in the lower part of his stomach. With every disapproving pull of your, and don't quote him on that, perfect lips, he's more and more convinced this whole charade is just an early birthday present. He'll have to thank Stillwell. Or better not, because as soon as he throws her a sidelong glance, he discovers, she's already looking at him. With a rather tense expression at that.

He feigns innocence, almost raises his hands in mock defeat, but decides against it at the last second. You're still watching him, torn between inspecting the costume, and shooting disgruntled looks in his direction.

Then, as if pulled by some invisible force, your hand sneaks to the front of the corset, fingers closing over the full cup, where your breast will soon reside. You give the mock leather two squeezes, and a high-pitched laugh wheezes out of your lips. Homelander's head nearly snaps with how fast he turns to look at Stillwell, confusion clear on his face.

She's looking at you cautiously. He knows that expression all too well, he's seen it multiple times during their partnership. She's calculating, with bated breath, just how much of a problem you'll inevitably become. How to turn it around in the company's favor, how to steer you in the right direction, should the need arise.

But then, you clap your hands, still giggling quietly, and turn to the designer, who's been watching your reaction with a growing distaste.

-That's one hell of a push-up bra - you comment with a raised eyebrow - My tits will fly straight out of this, if I even think about moving my arms.

Now, that's something Homelander would love to see, and you note his leering face with an uncomfortable shift in your posture.

-Your physique has to be god-like. There's no shame in a little padding - the designer answers simply, and your eyes glimmer with amusement.

-Oh, I bet - your eyes float for just a second in Homelander's direction, and he wonders if lasering you down right now would be too harsh of a reaction.

The image had to be kept up, however, and he deflects your blatant provocation with a bright smile. Or rather, it would've been a bright smile, if his cheek didn't twitch in a way, that portrayed exactly how forced his pleasantries are.

-There will be a press conference, seven PM sharp, where you'll be introduced to the public - Ashley informs you, her eyes glued to her tablet - Homelander will give a welcoming speech, explain that you're a temporary member of The Seven. Then, you'll need to say a couple of words. We'll send you the talking points ASAP.

-Right… - you mutter, not particularly thrilled by the idea of public speaking.

Stillwell looks over her shoulder towards Homelander, giving him an expectant, raised eyebrow. Slowly, he moves from his spot by the window, hand extended in a greeting, teeth flashing in a smile. Your eyes involuntarily shift towards his rather sharp canines, and for the first time, since you've signed the contract, you truly feel uneasy. His eyes are almost unnaturally blue, a perfect, American shade, that glimmers just a tad too dangerously. There's no need for super senses, he can feel your nerves in the very air you breathe.

-Welcome to The Seven - his voice is smoother than you've ever heard before - Fireball.

Wait a god-damned minute.

Confusion covers all previous feelings, and to Homelander's growing annoyance, you leave him with his hand extended, in favor of turning towards Stillwell.

-That's not my name - you point out, and Madelyn nods her head in a practiced expression of understanding.

-Due to some copyright intricacies, we can't let you use Smirnoff - she explains.

You suck in a deep breath through your teeth, looking back towards the costume. A moment's hesitation, you close your eyes as you breathe out, and once again Homelander feels as if he's able to peak under a carnival mask you carefully placed upon yourself. He lifts it just enough, sees the way muscles on your neck twitch. Your jaw sets in a way, that is slowly becoming intoxicating, and then you turn back to him.

-I'm honored - your voice is hollow, locked far away in the column of your throat, and you don't have enough strength to even attempt a smile.

That's alright, he has enough charm for the both of you, his imposing stature pushing towards you, as his arm sneaks around your shoulders.

Fuck, you're warm. He can feel the heat of your skin seeping into his costume. There's a vaguely familiar smell clinging to your form, mixing with the scent of cigarette smoke. Jasmine flowers, he concludes, and absent-mindedly remembers a rather large bush growing in your backyard. He wonders, if you'd let him fuck you, if he showed up with a bouquet at your door. Women seemed to like those, and although you didn't strike him as the most romantic person, he's positive he could charm his way into your pants.

-I'll show you to your room, sweetheart - perhaps he's laying it on a bit heavy with the nickname.

He can hear Stillwell's heart jump, and he immediately knows, he's going to have to sit through a stern talk later today. You, on the other hand, wrench your head to the side, disgruntled with this new form of familiarity. Your entire body goes tense, and you try to wriggle yourself further away from him. On instinct, his fingers dig into your shoulder, a mockery of a friendly expression, and with just a small fragment of his true strength, he pushes you forward, out of Stillwell's office.

He can do whatever he wants, and Madelyn is getting awfully pushy with guarding you from him. You're just a temporary toy to satisfy the higher-ups. A six months worth of an experiment, that he's forced to be a part of. After your contract is up, Vaught won't care whether you live or die, and you bet your rather ample ass, he's going to exploit that to the fullest. Not only is it borderline insulting, to deny him life's simple pleasures, it's pathetic.

-Nervous about the press? - he asks in a light tone, his jaw clicking softly, when your slide out of his grasp as soon as the doors close.

The casualness of this question throws you in a bit of a loop, but with a couple of rapid blinks, you're back to normal, letting him lead you towards the elevator.

-Public speaking isn't my best asset - you mumble.

Homelander presses the call button of the elevator, then leans against the wall, watching you with a strange twinkle in his eye.

-Sounds like someone's not a people person - he notes, wiggling his finger at you in a manner that is confusingly playful.

-I am a people person - you defend yourself, albeit a bit awkwardly - Just… Not when there's a lot of people.

He laughs at that, a practiced, almost theatrical bark that's as fake as his hairdo. All you have the strength to do, is flash him half of a smile. Thankfully the elevator pings before any more small-talk is required, and you slip into the confined space, standing in the corner. His eyes roam freely all over your body, a shameless act that makes your guts twist, makes the already small space of the elevator even more stuffy. And then, he enters after you, pressing a button to the right floor, and taking a spot much too close to you, than what's necessary.

You suppose it's one of the things you'll have to get used to. This constant invasion of your personal space. Perhaps, if it were someone else, someone that wasn't as empty as you, those actions would've been more intimidating than annoying. Alas, as you watch his chest rise and fall in steady rythm, out of the corner of your eye, his actions remind you of a petulant, spoiled child, rather than America's Greatest Hero. "I can't play with this toy? And what if I do this?" For just a second you entertain the idea of gentle parenting Homelander, and the thought makes the corner of your mouth twitch.

-Something the matter? - he asks, tension sneaking into his friendly tone.

-Just happy to be here, sir - you answer, and he knows it's a blatant lie, another one of your snarky provocations.

Doesn't matter for now, there will be a time to teach you some manners.

The elevator arrives at the right floor, and you bolt out of your place as soon as the doors slip open. Homelander follows closely behind, before closing the distance in a couple of long steps. Then, he's in front of you, and you nearly collide with his form, as he suddenly comes to a stop, in front of a pair of large doors. "Fireball" is etched into a small plack, and you throw the offending piece of metal a withering glance.

-That's your stop, sweetheart - he comments, and once again, you grimace at the nickname - Take a look inside, I'm sure it will blow your socks right off.

Why is he talking to you like you're a fucking child all of a sudden, you'll never understand. The door clicks softly, as you open it, revealing your living space for the next six months. The sight chokes a laugh out of you, because truly, the ammount of "punk" memorabilia is staggering.

-Does cocaine addiction come with the package, or…?

He doesn't even react to your joke, and you don't blame him. For all his creepiness and fake interest, he doesn't strike you as the funniest person on earth. There are guitars hanging over a rather large bed, there's a pristine stop sign next to them, which you suppose is meant to look rebellious. The usage of leopard print is tacky at best, and you truly start to wonder if they even consulted someone out of the corporation to design the space. Most likely no, wouldn't want to waste resources on such a small project.

-Fireball - Homelander's voice is barely above a whisper, but it makes your heart jump all the same.

He's standing so closely behind you, you can feel the warmth of his breath at the back of your neck, but for some unnknown reason, you can't force yourself to move. Instead, you feel him take a deep breath trough his nose, his chest brushing against your back. Your eyes stay glued to a drum set, pushed against a gigantic window. Light reflects off of the cymbals, in your mind you're already playing it, far away from this nightmare of a superhero.

-I'll see you at the press conference - Homelander's hand clasps itself over your shoulder, squeezing a couple of times, as if testing the softness of your body - Don't even think about being late, young lady.

You don't know when he dissapears, as you stand there, frozen. One foot over the threshold of your room, breathing shallow and borderline panicked. It could've been seconds, could've been hours, until your head finally snaps to the side. He's not there anymore, you're alone in the corridor, and as you slam the door closed behind you, something you've only suspected before becomes abundantly clear.

There is something deeply wrong with Homelander.

#my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #plus size reader #the boys amazon #the boys x reader #homelander #the boys fanfiction #homelander fanfiction #do we have to have a talk about how liking a character doesn't equal endorsing their actions or are we good?#it'll get much darker later down the line but for now have this blurb of barely conscious writing

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sonotpattismith · 4 months ago

Text

missed my heart

pairing: nurse!sukuna x patient!reader word count: 4.9k content: sukuna is mean but a secret softie what's new, mentions of shootings, violence, this would definitely land him a meeting with HR irl but who cares, FLUFF

nurse!sukuna who scares the shit out of all his patients.

He was most definitely the last person anyone would have ever assumed would go into a field centered around helpingvulnerable people. Hell— it surely wasn't his first career choice, but when his brother and sister-in-law died, he suddenly had a lot more to worry about than just himself.

It took a lot of internal arguments with himself, still grappling with the loss of the only family he'd ever known, and now he had a six year old to take care of as well.

nurse!sukuna who came to the begrudging realization that his preferred method of making a living that typically consisted of underground gambling, the occasional gig as a temporary hit man, and messing around with the wrong crowd definitely was not going to work anymore with this toddler waiting up for him every night.

He threw himself into researching professions that would afford him and his nephew a comfortable life— one where he could still make ends meet while having enough time to be present in Yuuji's life.

nurse!sukuna who realized in the midst of his frantic research that he could make a hell of a decent pay as a nurse while only working three days a week thanks to those brutal twelve hour shifts.

nurse!sukuna who had barely a high school education under his belt working his ass off threatening people to do his work for him trying to pass the prerequisites he needed in order to get into an accelerated nursing program.

He figured he'd have to cheat his way through nursing school, already having learned through his extensive research that the program was not for the faint of heart, and he essentially wouldn't have a life for the next eighteen months. At the very least, he had enough money stashed away to be able to focus on school for a while without completely drowning in bills. Of course, a big chunk of that savings went to paying for a damn near round the clock babysitter for his nephew.

There was no other way around it though, what with the countless three plus hour classes, the clinicals, the exams— Sukuna truly did not have a life any longer.

nurse!sukuna who, at the very least, was slowly realizing that there was no need for him to bully a classmate into giving him their study guides or paying someone to complete his grueling care plans for him— because he was actually getting it. Not only that, but he was kicking ass in nursing school.

Not even in a million years would he have guessed the learning about sepsis and arrhythmias would actually peak his interest, but he found the meticulousness of it all utterly fascinating. Sure, the long hours were beating his ass, but at least he wasn't completely miserable.

nurse!sukuna who finished his program at the top of his cohort and had no issue landing a residency in the trauma unit of a local hospital. Well— perhaps no issue was a stretch. The interview panel were definitely hesitant when the intimidatingly large and tattooed man sat down before them, wondering what a vulnerable patient might feel with thiswalking in as their nurse.

nurse!sukuna who put all their doubts to rest when he answered all their questions with flying colors, spit firing through their case study examples with an ease that even some of their more seasoned nurses couldn't pull off.

nurse!sukuna who quickly made a name for himself on the unit following the end of his residency.

The entire staff feared him— CNAs, unit secretaries, hell even some of the doctor's feared what might happen to them if they didn't put in the orders for Sukuna's patient's meds quick enough. He paid them no mind though, because he was making an honest living for once with four days to spare every week for his own life.

nurse!sukuna who became the go-to dump for the unit's more... difficult patients. If he noticed, he certainly didn't make any complaints. He knew he had an assertive air that got him farther with his patients than most of the other nurses who were too scared to put their foot down.

nurse!sukuna who had had HR called on him more times than he could count thanks to his... cold and abrupt approach with his patients. Each case was always dismissed though, because despite the fact that the patients might not like his firm attitude, they all received excellent care from him, and the unit knew firing him would be too great of a skill loss.

nurse!sukuna who had grown used to his coworkers coming to him to set their patients straight.

They didn't want to take their meds? Sukuna just had to cross his arms at their bedside with that daring look in his eyes and down the hatch those sleeping pills were going.

Male patient was getting frisky with some of the female nurses? Sukuna would insist that they switch assignments, because he'd love to see that bastard trying to grope at his ass while keeping his round the clock pain meds.

nurse!sukuna who's assistance was requested for a gun-shot victim who was refusing to let phlebotomy draw her blood for their routine checks.

He sighed, saving the charting he had been catching up on at the station before stretching from his rolling chair. The endless popping of his joints had onlookers staring over in concern, though everyone knew not to stare too long lest he snap at them.

Sanitizing his hands at the door, Sukuna's lips remained in a firmly set line as he strolled into your hospital room. You were staring blankly at the window by your bed despite the fact that one of the staff members had turned the small television on for you at the beginning of their shift.

Of course, no one liked hospitals, much less being stuck in one for days on end, but the bullet wound in your chest definitely didn't make matters any easier.

You had been in the wrong place at the wrong time— at least that's what everyone told you in a half-hearted attempt to urge you to accept the past that you couldn't change, but none of their reaffirming words would rid you of the memory of the piercing gun-shot ringing through your ears that night.

Gang violence is what the police had chalked it up to, almost as a means to clean their hands of the situation. You could hardly blame them for not wanting to get involved. After all, more than half of the time, each person that got caught meddling within their affairs often ended up dead or... in the trauma unit at the hospital wondering why the fuck they didn't just take the train home instead of walking through a bad part of town late at night.

Your head shifted at the sound of nearing footsteps, and you had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes in frustration. The action froze midway into your skull upon seeing the specimen that had walked in.

nurse!sukuna who looked way too devilishly handsome for someone who was already seven hours into his twelve hour shift.

His black scrub top strained against his bulging chest and biceps, threatening to pop at any moment if he should make too abrupt of a movement. It was tucked neatly into his matching, jogger-style bottoms that tied at his waist and accentuated his lean figure, and you had to remind yourself to look up lest he caught you gawking at him.

"How many phlebotomists does this place have?" You grumbled rhetorically as your fingers fisted into the stiff sheets below you anxiously.

"Not a phlebotomist, princess." He quipped with a click of his tongue, examining the way your body seemed to ease up at that reassurance. "You giving these people a hard time? They don't get paid enough to put up with your bullshit. So, why don't you give them your damn arm and let them help you, alright?"

Your cheeks heated at his sharp criticism. The last thing on your mind was trying to give the staff attempting to help you a hard time, but you were sure your veins would collapse if you let another one of them poke aimlessly at you for twenty minutes again. Turning your face back toward the window, you chewed on your bottom lip, crossing your arms carefully around your bandaged chest.

nurse!sukuna who actually thought he felt the strangest glimmer of remorse sting at his chest at your mumbled explanation.

"They keep saying I'm a hard stick. One of them was digging a needle around in my arm for ten minutes this morning instead of just looking for a different vein."

His ruby eyes drifted down to the slightly concealed crease of your arms where there were countless, deep purple hematomas lining the area. Hard stick or not, whichever dumbass phlebotomist that was on shift this morning seriouslydid a number on your veins. Clicking his tongue in aggravation, he made no explanation as he strode out of your room.

nurse!sukuna who returned to your room only five minutes later with the blood draw supplies in tow.

You shifted uncomfortably on the bed at the sight of the capped needle sitting menacingly in the plastic tray alongside the sample tubes. As he began snapping on a pair of rubber gloves, you quickly shook your head in protest.

"I told them I don't want to be stuck anymore." You insisted, though your voice was wavering with subtle panic at the memory of the needle digging through your already sore arms. "Blame me, say I refused."

Setting down the tray at the bedside table, the nurse crossed his swelled arms over his broad chest. The expression on his handsome face was ever-unimpressed, but there was an underlying determination hidden within his gaze.

"Like hell you refused." He grumbled as he raised the bed for better leverage. "Tell you what, if I don't get you on my first try I'll document your refusal request myself."

With an apprehensive gulp, you sized up the intimidating man. He by no means had the presence of someone delicate enough to handle a blood draw with the type of intricacy that the task called for. Still, if he agreed to document your refusal, the phlebotomy team would at the very least leave you and your poor veins alone for the day. Your teeth sunk into your inner cheek before offering the most subtle of nods in agreement.

nurse!sukuna who exhibited far more patience than you would have hoped to give him credit for as he reached for your wrist to outstretch your arm for him to see.

He shook his head disapprovingly at the countless bruises that marked the previously failed attempts.

"Make a fist for me." He ordered lowly as his warm, gloved hand still gripped at your wrist. The other flicked at your forearm in an attempt to find a vein. With a firm hum, he made quick work to tie the tournaqnuette just above your elbow before wiping at his chosen area with an alcohol pad. The sight of the thin needle alone as he uncapped it was enough to make you lightheaded, that queasy sensation settling at the pit of your stomach.

Glancing up at you and taking note of the paleness that had suddenly befallen your expression, he handed you a fresh alcohol pad.

"Breathe that in before you pass out on me."

nurse!sukuna who paid you no mind as you looked up at the ceiling, eyes squeezed shut as he carefully slid the needle into your arm. You held your breath as he slowly advanced it, waiting for the inevitable digging to start.

It never came though, and after only a second or two, the nurse was snapping the tourniquet off your arm and twisting on the sample tube to collect the blood flowing freely from the vein that he'd found on his first try.

He tried to appear nonchalant, but the awestruck expression on your scratched up face warmed his ice-cold heart. The nurse made a mental note to check who the fuck the phlebotomist on shift was this morning so he could bitch them out.

Once the final tube was filled, he carefully slid the needle out and placed it in the forgotten tray while holding pressure on the minimally bleeding puncture site. His forefinger and thumb wrapped easily around your arm with a firm grip on the cotton ball as he grabbed a bandaid to hold it in place.

nurse!sukuna who winked knowingly at you as he snapped his gloves off and tossed them expertly into the trash bin across the room. Collecting the tray with the over samples, he glanced over his shoulder on his way out.

"And if that bruises, I owe you a shitty cafeteria ice cream."

nurse!sukuna who saw that they had put you onto his assignment the next morning, already having deemed you a 'difficult patient' that apparently had become his specialty. He had half a mind to tell them that you weren't difficult, you were just tired of being poked and prodded at.

Still, he didn't mind having you on his assignment, so he didn't bother raising a fuss about it either way.

nurse!sukuna who found himself eager to come greet you that morning with an I told you so smirk because of the bruise he didn't have to check your arm to know wasn't present.

Upon entering your room after a warning knock at your door though, he found you still fast asleep. Humming softly to himself, he tore his gaze away from your sleeping form to replace the night shift nurse's name and pager number on your whiteboard with his own.

He quietly made his way over to your bedside to replace the saline bag on your IV pole that had run out. You stirred softly as he continued his routine checks, or as much of it he could do while you were sleeping. Given the nature of your injury and trauma, Sukuna wasn't sure when the last time you were able to sleep so soundly.

nurse!sukuna who shot straight up out of his spot at his charting computer when he saw phlebotomy making their way to your room just a short two hours later.

Scrambling to save his progress, he made quick work of barging into the room just as you had begun to protest the samephlebotomist that fucked your arm up the day prior. Spotting that familiar head of pink hair over his shoulder, there was a palpable relief glimmering in your eyes.

"I'll take care of it." He said simply, holding his hand out expectantly at the startled phlebotomist. "Didn't know they were hiring fucking dimwits in this place."

He knew he'd surely be getting another complaint filed against him, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he caught sight of your grateful expression, the soft smile you were attempting to hide breaking through your dry lips.

nurse!sukuna who made sure to use your other arm in order to give the one he'd poked yesterday a break. After having looked over your chart, he knew you had frequent lab checks, so the least he could do was make it as tolerable as possible.

Much like yesterday, the sight of the needle still had you squirming uncomfortably in the stiff hospital bed. Sukuna huffed out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he advanced the needle.

"Are you laughing at me?" You squeaked out, eyes still turned toward the ceiling so you wouldn't fall sick at the sight of your own blood.

"You got shot in the fucking chest but can't handle a butterfly needle?"

nurse!sukuna who kept forgetting to watch his sailor mouth when he was on the clock, but hey— it made you laugh.

nurse!sukuna who's interest had been peaked that morning as he was reading over your chart and discovered your admission paperwork, learning that you had come in for a gun-shot wound following a gang related incident. The bullet had grazed your heart, hence the need for such an emergent, invasive surgery that was evident in the fresh, straight scar running down your chest.

Sure, he had left all of that behind after taking Yuuji in, it had been years, but he still couldn't help but want more information. What he was going to do with it? God only knew.

"Gonna have to do some wound care on you soon, too." Sukuna prefaced as he finished up drawing your labs.

The thought had you flustered, even if you knew this was a professional. Sure, he'd likely seen more chests than he could ever care to wish for in his lifetime thanks to his field of work, but it didn't make the prospect of this way too hot for his own good man seeing you so exposed any less intimidating.

You should have ripped the stupid stickers connecting you to your heart monitor off your chest when you had the chance, because the anticipation of the moment alone was causing that embarrassing beeping to sound off again from your gown.

Taking a few deep breaths and glancing away from him, it luckily steadied out just as he pulled the box up to inspect it once again with furrowed brows.

nurse!sukuna who came back almost an hour later with various supplies in tow to do his job as you had been dreading for the past sixty-four minutes.

nurse!sukuna who, despite his typical, sharply astute nature, remained completely oblivious when your heart monitor spiked in tandem with your loosening the ties on your gown as he busied himself with prepping the supplies so as to provide you some privacy.

“Your nurse yesterday didn’t call in a cardio consult for you?” He questioned mainly to himself, recalling the fact that you had been slightly tachycardic yesterday as well. Making a mental note to make the call himself, he hummed when your timid voice informed him that you were ready.

Your hands were clutching your gown anxiously over your breasts as well as you could while still allowing him access to the wound site that was residing just above your right breast.

Wanting to make this as quick as possible in order to cut your discomfort of being exposed in front of a stranger short, Sukuna made quick work to carefully undress your wound. The entire surrounding area was a grueling, greenish-yellow hue, but that was to be suspected with an incident so recent.

nurse!sukuna who was no stranger to gunshot wounds given the crowds he used to get himself involved in back in the day, but the sight of one on someone as unsuspecting as you made his jaw clench.

Perhaps it was the fact that he knew it was gang-related that irked him so deeply as he cleaned the site as gently as a man so large could possibly manage.

The nurse knew how these sorts of things went. The police never wanted to touch that side of town, someone always knowing somebody else, or that people who were meant to be protecting the little guys were too fearful of getting involved. They would tell you that they were working diligently to apprehend the individuals at fault, but nothing would happen— no justice would be brought to you.

You who he thinks is the first person in a long time to have been comforted by his presence rather than scared by it. You who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You who’s sweet and timid smile those assholes would never have the pleasure of seeing because there were never any repercussions for their actions.

You who could be brought to justice with just one phone call to the right person who Sukuna knew he could find with just a few minutes of concentrated searching.

nurse!sukuna who hadn’t felt the urge to have someone else’s blood on his hands if weren’t to help them in so long, but he could practically feel the substance crusting deliciously under his fingernails and into the crevices of his knuckles now as he thought about how satisfying it might be to call in one last favor.

nurse!sukuna who has to pull himself from his murderous thoughts when he heard your voice cut through the haze of his imagination to ask how much longer this would take.

“You bossing me around now?” He huffed in feigned annoyance, but the mirth hidden beneath his eyes gave him away. “Don’t forget who’s the only bastard here who’s been able to find your worm-ass veins.”

You attempted a breathy laugh at his mocking, but you found it difficult to release anything but a pathetic, choked gasp as his head dipped down to get a better angle of his work. Catching a waft of his subtle cologne, it was becoming increasingly impossible to not act like you’d never been touched by a man before.

Still, the pink-haired man didn’t catch on, too focused on assuring each nook and cranny of your wound was cleaned lest you become septic on his watch to notice your flaming cheeks.

nurse!sukuna who’s movements paused altogether when your traitorous monitor began going ballistic once again just as soon as his hand grazed too close to the swell of your breast by accident.

He blinked slowly, his ruby irises seeming to move in slow motion as they shifted from where his hand had wandered to the small box monitor resting just beside you.

“...Oh.” Was all he said.

You held your breath, hoping his abrupt halt was due to his concern for your cardiac health. Those prayers were in vain though, because after only a few seconds, he looked back up at you with the most infuriating of knowing glints glimmering in his prepossessing eyes.

Gulping down the anxious lump in your throat, your eyes immediately shifted in an attempt to escape his rapturous gaze, landing on the tiled ceiling above your head.

“Hm,” Sukuna hummed in amusement, finally tearing his eyes from your flushed face to begin putting down some fresh gauze. “Gotta say, I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Oh, please,” Your nervous scoff wasn’t at all convincing, but you were grasping at straws here. “You’re the only person I’ve seen in days that isn’t over forty or collapsing my veins.”

“So, if the phlebotomist was hot, I wouldn’t be here right now? That what you’re saying, princess?”

“Please either finish this or pull my plug and leave me to die here.” You begged as the back of your head hit the pillow so you wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“You’re not on life-support, dumbass.” Sukuna quipped with a smirk, but, despite his teasing, worked quickly and efficiently to secure the fresh gauze around your wound before tossing the used supplies into the bin. “All done.”

“Thank you.” You managed to breathe out even through the tremble in your tone, quickly moving to shrug your arms back into your gown.

Still unable to look him in the eyes, your breath hitched when you felt his cold hands at your nape, tying the back of your gown so you didn’t try to lift your arms above your head and pop a stitch. Despite having his literal job on his defense, you couldn’t help but feel as though he was doing it on purpose now, given the deep chortle that reverberated within his chest at the sound of your heart racing out of your ribcage once again.

“Don’t think of me too much while I’m gone.” The nurse mocked as he sanitized his hands on his way out before throwing a mischievous wink over his shoulder. “Wouldn’t wanna have to call a code on you.”

nurse!sukuna who notoriously never picked up overtime, marching over to the charge nurse as soon as his shift ended to let them know that he could come in tomorrow if they needed the help— with the exception that he could keep his same assignment, of course.

And, let’s be real, when didn’t they need the help?

nurse!sukuna who would drop whatever he was doing when it was time to draw your labs, because he’d be damned if someone was going to mark you up again on his watch. Phlebotomy had already stopped bothering to pass by your room, opting to simply leave your needed lab tubes at the station by Sukuna’s computer. It didn’t matter if he was drowning in work, he would always somehow find the spare five minutes if it meant making you more comfortable.

nurse!sukuna who would come back early from his lunch to spend the remainder of his break with you under the guise of doing a routine vitals check. Nevermind the fact that you had informed him through fierce confusion that the nursing assistant had just checked you only an hour prior.

“You telling me how to do my job?”

nurse!sukuna who scoffed out in frustration upon noticing that you had only been barely picking at your food trays, though he could hardly blame you— feeding this shit to human beings should be considered cruel and unusual punishment. Despite his understanding, he would adamantly hover in your room until you at least finished your protein.

“This ain’t a fuckin’ hotel— eat your dry ass chicken.”

nurse!sukuna who would still sneak you in sandwiches from the employee cafe when your meals would look particularly gruelling.

“Quit looking at me like that. I want you to go home, I’m sick of seeing your sorry ass on my assignment.”

He left out the part where he just wanted you to get better so he could slip his phone number onto your discharge paperwork, and maybe he could meet you over coffee that didn’t have to be decaffeinated per your nutrition plan. Seeing you everyday wasn’t so bad though.

nurse!sukuna who pushed you to get out of bed everyday, even if you were digging angry, red crescents into the flesh of his arm as you looped around the room.

“I feel like everything winds me.” You would sigh out through tears of frustration.

“Don’t be a pussy.” He would always reply, but the ice cream he would always inevitably sneak into your room later on in the day let you know that he was proud of you, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

nurse!sukuna who ran into your room when the nurse call button above your door started blinking— because you never called for anything.

“You okay?” His words nearly slurred together as he burst into the room, his brows drawn so fiercely together that they were practically kissing.

You were perched calmly on your bed though, the head raised up so that you were in a sitting position that he insisted you remain in unless you were sleeping. There was a palpable excitement etched onto your expression, albeit shocked, but happy nonetheless. Looking over at him eagerly, you nodded toward the small television screen on the far wall of the hospital room.

Trying to calm his racing nerves from the scare you had just given him, he slowly trekked farther into the room to stand at your bedside as he looked up at the news you seemed so excited about.

“The fuck am I looking at?” The nurse deadpanned, his ruby eyes scrutinizing the various police cars surrounding a dingy looking apartment building as depicted on the screen.

“They caught him!” You babbled incredulously, and the elation in your tone made him tear his eyes from the television to see how that joy would manifest on that sweet face of yours. Fluttering your gaze between the screen and your nurse, you blinked back the relieved tears that threatened to spill from your waterline. “The guy that shot me. They said an anonymous tip was sent in with information of all the people involved in that gang.”

He only hummed, but there was a faint smirk of satisfaction tugging at the corners of his lips.

nurse!sukuna who may or may not know why that tip wasn’t as anonymous as you believed it to be.

“You called me in here for this?” He grumbled in feigned annoyance, but even you could see right through his cool facade. “Thought you were finally going into cardiac arrest at the thought of me.”

“Sorry…” Your voice trailed bashfully as you looked down at your blanket-covered lap. His heart stirred at the shade of red quickly swirling onto your cheeks. “I just… just thought you’d wanna know.”

Clicking his tongue softly, he pushed off the side rail that he’d been leaning on, taking you by surprise when he grasped at the nape of your neck. With a gentle tug, you were being pulled in closer to him, completely shell-shocked when you felt the warmth of the very lips you had been fantasizing about for nearly a week pressing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing you all together.

“We can celebrate when you get out of here, yeah?” He quipped with a tender wink and ruffle of your hair.

nurse!sukuna who would definitely miss the way your heart monitor betrayed you each time.

a/n: sorry for such a short post after being away for a while, I'm getting back into the swing of things and hope you still like it :')

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

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demie90s · 24 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐃 𝐔𝐏 & 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ DIANA TAURASI X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

2/? Part 1 Part 3 Part 5

MASTERLIST

⭑ pairing: Diana Taurasi x fem!rookie!reader

⭑ summary: Rookie of the Year, team favorite, and everybody’s newest obsession—you can’t keep your mouth shut during a live interview. Diana Taurasi’s sitting right next to you, and your talent for getting under her skin is almost as good as your game.

⭑ genre: humor, flirtation, slow-burn tension, public chaos

⭑ warnings: light language, suggestive flirting, press/fan reaction

⭑ word count: ~0.8k

The lights hit, the cameras roll, and the crowd’s already screaming before you touch the mic.

You flash a smile. The one that’s been on ESPN since draft night. The one that had people tweeting “that rookie’s got something dangerous in her eyes.” Rookie of the Year. A walking headline. And today? You’re mic’d up next to the Diana Taurasi.

She leans back like she doesn’t care. Like she hasn’t noticed you’ve been sitting with one leg over the other, relaxed and shining, making it your mission since preseason to get a reaction out of her.

You adjust the mic. “Thanks for having us. I was told I had to be professional, so I left the crop top at home.”

The audience laughs. You glance over.

Diana doesn’t blink.

“Probably for the best,” she mutters, straight-faced.

You grin, unbothered. “You say that, but I’ve seen how you look at me in practice. Don’t play.”

The team—seated in the front row like this is reality TV—loses it. Sophie slaps her knee. Skylar covers her mouth. Brianna pretends to be shocked for the camera.

Diana sighs. “Here we go.”

“C’mon,” you shrug. “I’m Rookie of the Year. Let me be annoying. It’s in my contract.”

“You’re doing great at it.”

The moderator, God bless her, tries to regain control. “So! How’s the dynamic been, with such a strong rookie presence on the team this year?”

“Strong is a word,” Diana says flatly.

You lean into the mic again. “Obsessed is another.”

“She’s been flirting with me since training camp,” Diana says, dry as desert air.

“And yet you never file a complaint,” you fire back, smirking.

“HR said no,” Sophie yells from the crowd.

Everyone’s dying. Twitter is probably already clipping it. You can see the phones held up. You’re trending again, and it’s not even noon.

“I just think she’s fine,” you say, waving your hand like you’re stating the weather. “It’s not my fault I got good taste and no filter.”

Diana finally looks at you—really looks. Her mouth tight, fighting a smile. “You should focus more on film and less on flirting.”

“I’m a multitasker, mama.”

“Oh my God,” Skylar groans behind her. “She called her mama.”

Diana rubs her temples.

You sit back, pleased. You’re killing it, as usual. The league loves you, the fans adore you, and your favorite hobby is cracking through the ice wall that is Diana Taurasi’s tolerance.

The moderator asks another question—something about your first season, about pressure, about your historic run—but you only half-hear it. Your eyes stay locked on the way Diana finally, finally cracks the smallest smile.

You live for that smile.

You answer clean, smooth, charismatic as hell. “Pressure makes diamonds. Or whatever Rihanna said.”

“Didn’t know she coached now,” Diana says.

“She could,” you shrug. “You’d listen if she did.”

“So would you,” she says, then instantly regrets it.

The room explodes.

You turn, all teeth. “So you admit I’m your type.”

She lifts her mic. “I admit nothing.”

The crowd is loud. The team is crying. And somewhere deep down—even if she’ll never admit it—you know you’ve cracked her just a little.

MASTERLIST

#diana taurasi x reader #wnba x oc #wnba #wnba x reader #wbb imagine #wbb x reader #phoenix mercury #uconn wbb #Gxg #diana taurasi #i am gay

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chvoswxtch · 1 year ago

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oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

#court's 4k followers celebration #court's 4k friends celebration #court's cafe #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x female reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock headcannon #matt murdock request #matt murdock smut #daredevil #daredevil headcannon #daredevil request #daredevil smut

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