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janeyseymour · 1 month

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La Cosa Nostra- pt 1

*clears throat* ...hi. i present to you, the first part of the fic that @schemmentis are co-writing. and damn, if i do say so myself.

Summary: You're a part of the mob. Melissa is a part of the mafia. Together... it makes for an interesting life.

Let us know what you think because we are having an absolute BLAST with this!

WC: ~3k

You really don’t know how you ended up in this position.

One day, you were working at the local hair salon, the next, you learned that your boss was tied up in the mafia and needed some help getting out. Luckily for him; you already had contacts. Just not on the side he was with. Which means you couldn’t entirely get him out of trouble but you could help. And you did. You had called your “Uncle'' Joe for a favor. A big one. Taking the loans of your boss at the hair salon off the Italian’s books and claiming them to the Irish instead. At least then, you knew exactly who needed to be spoken to for the loans and what was owed. And that’s how you met Melissa Schemmenti.

Melissa had been sent on behalf of the Italian’s. To negotiate taking the salon’s books. She hadn’t given it up easily. The only saving grace was the fact that the Irish taking the books meant the Italians didn’t have a problem to worry about anymore. It was hard not to want to agree from the Italian side of it. They had nothing to lose. And you were indebting yourself a great deal to your own “family” by taking it on. Except you knew you could turn a profit if you were given the chance. You argued with the red-head spokeswoman tooth and nail, like your life depended on it. Yours didn’t, not yet. Your boss’ life did, though.

When Melissa finally agreed to turn over the books, she’d shaken your hand with an all too satisfied smile. One that you hadn’t forgotten since. You went around everyone in your extended “family” to ask her out. You half expected her to cuss you out and make it extremely well known you had tried. Instead, she’d said yes and told you to pick her up at six.

Fast forward seven years: you now own the hair salon, that red headed woman is your wife, and you have two beautiful little girls together. Everything is great- you would even dare to say perfect. Your front is working perfectly while still being one of the best hair salons in all of Philadelphia, your wife’s restaurant has taken off and she’s been named one of the most up and coming restauranteurs in the city, and your two children are well on their way to blossoming into two of the smartest kindergarteners you know.

The day your daughters were born is second only to the day you married Melissa in the happiest day of your life. Deciding to start a family as soon as possible, you began to lay down the foundations for a family. It had been decided that you would carry while attempting to find a donor that was as similar to your wife as possible.

The two of you had tried a few times before and hadn’t managed to get pregnant. The day that you went in to take a test and the doctor told you that were indeed pregnant was one that you’ll never forget- Melissa jumping out of her seat and tackling you in a hug, her hand already resting gently on your flat stomach. And when you found out that you were blessed enough to be pregnant with twins, Melissa had gripped your hand, making a cross over her chest with the other. She thanked God for blessing you with two; she thanked you for carrying them since she couldn’t imagine being the one to.

Having you carry was risky though, and it never left either of your minds through the entire pregnancy that you were technically on the forefront of this illegal business that you found yourself a part of now. But you were able to make it through your entire pregnancy without a hair on your head touched (you’re fairly certain Melissa had threatened both sides that if you were even looked at the wrong way they would be taken care of).

Melissa, even five years later, is positive you were only flattering her when you had requested to name one of your girls in honor of her. She was the love of your life, after all, you had argued. Caterina Ann had been born first, and two minutes later her sister followed. Melissa named her Rosalina Marie. Gifting one of her sister’s middle names despite their estrangement. When the two of them did finally reconcile and Kristen Marie met your rays of sunshine, she wept at their names.

And then, it all comes crashing down on you. You’re out with your wife to pick up the girls from their day at school when your phone rings- and not your personal phone: the phone that you use specifically for your business.

“Hello?” you answer softly.

“Y/N,” the manager on call replies. “We have a bit of a problem over at the salon.”

“You can handle it,” you roll your eyes. “I’m out getting ready to pick up the girls.”

“They ain’t takin’ no for an answer,” he says lowly. “Insisting you come speak to them directly.”

You hazard a glance at your wife, who is looking at you with furrowed brows. “Let me pick the girls up, drop the family at home, and then I’ll be in.”

“Make it quick.”

“Don’t speak to me like that,” you reprimand your employee. “Don't forget I can fire your ass.”

“All I’m sayin’ is, if you don’t get down here sooner rather than later, there’s gonna be a much bigger problem on our hands than we have now.” He hangs up.

You stuff your phone in your pocket, look up at the sky, and audibly ask the question, “Why?” All you wanted to do was pick up the girls and have a nice family night. You’d finally been able to take the day off after almost a month of straight work. Now though, that was being taken away from you, and you couldn’t even get a clear answer as to why.

“Why what?” your wife asks you, clearly concerned.

“After we get Cat and Rosie, I have to head down to the salon,” you huff. “Tony called and said someone is down there specifically asking for me over some sort of problem. So, I’m either giving out a ridiculous credit or I’m dealing with...” you trail off, knowing she’ll understand.

Melissa squeezes your hand. “Go. I can handle ‘em. Just... please be back for bedtime, because then I have to head to the restaurant to prep for tomorrow."

“I’ll do what I can,” you promise her. You peck her lips, and you turn in the direction of your business wondering what the hell you’ll be walking into.

You walk in through the staff entrance of the salon, swiftly ducking into the back office before anyone up front can notice. You dig through desk drawers and the small filing cabinet in the corner. You quickly slip one binder, the ledger of the illegal side of the business into the space between your belt and back before you tuck your blazer coat back over it. You grip the other binder you’d grabbed, the legal ledger, as you step back out of the office and towards the front.

“Tony,” You greet your manager with a big smile. Your eyes flashing your annoyance at him. “Who do we have here?” You quickly turn your attention to the two individuals standing in front of Tony. You hold your hand out to shake.

Instead of a handshake, a badge is flashed from each of the suits now focusing on you. “Agent Danik, and this Agent Shaw, FBI. You own this establishment?”

“I do.” You confirm. “What can I help you with?”

“We have reason to believe this salon is laundering money. We’d like to ask you a few questions,” Danik tells you lowly.

“I’d be happy to answer what I can.” You say, attempting to seem cooperative. You know it won’t help you to dig your heels in. “But I can’t imagine where you’d get the idea of money laundering. I’ve owned this salon for almost a decade.”

“And you bought it from Bobby Esposito, is that right?” Shaw asks, brow raised.

“That’s right,” you tell them honestly. “I worked for Bobby for a few years before that; managing the office and schedules. All that.” What you’re saying is true- for years you had sent out schedules, managed different finances, and became the best stylist your business has to offer.

“Were you aware Bobby was murdered a few years ago?”

You blink. You did know. It would be next to impossible for you not to know. “Uncle” Joey had ordered the hit on Bobby and informed you about it so you wouldn't be surprised. Now, you make an effort to look shocked. “Bobby? Murdered?” You echo, your brow furrowing. “Why would somebody do somethin’ like that? Bobby’s just…an old man by now.”

The agents’ faces don’t change. You feel a shot of ice down your spine at the thought they don’t believe you. “We were hoping you might have an idea about that. The PPD has been kind enough to lend us a room. You mind coming down to the station with us, have a chat about all this?”

“I don’t mind.” You answer as calmly as you can. “But I have two little girls waiting for me at home. I promised them a bedtime story and all, you know how it is. Couldn’t I meet you down there tomorrow?”

“I know how it is.” Agent Shaw answers with a sigh. “I have a little girl myself. Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to miss the stories tonight.” He does seem a bit regretful at the knowledge of you having children, but it doesn’t change the fact that they need you down at the station tonight.

You curse in your mind. Not only are your girls going to be disappointed; so is your wife. Not to mention the binder you’re still hiding that is definitely going to be noticed at some point.

“Right…” You murmur, glancing away from the agents. “Tony, call Mel for me, won’t you? Let her know I’m gonna be late tonight.” You say before starting to follow the agents out. “Oh,” You say, pretending to remember something. You glance over your shoulder. “And tell her to take that ziti of hers off the menu, huh?” You pretend it disgusts you to even think about it. It’s something you’d never dream of saying seriously. Which is why you say it now. When Melissa hears you said to pass that along, she’ll know something is wrong. Very wrong.

As you make your way out of your business and are escorted to one of the cars out front, Tony practically shits himself inside. He knows what’s happening, and he does not want to be the one to have to relay this information to your wife. Still though, an order from the boss is an order from the boss. He calls her cell phone on his own.

“Hello?” she answers as she juggles making dinner, assisting the girls with their reading, and making a list of things she needs to purchase for her own business tomorrow.

“Melissa? It’s Tony,” your manager sighs into the phone. “Don’t shoot the messenger when I tell you this, but Y/N ain’t gonna be home for bedtime stories tonight.”

Your wife nearly fumes. “What do you mean she isn’t gonna be... yeah, Rosie, that says ‘think’, good job sweetheart... What do you mean she isn’t gonna be home tonight?”

“She’s handling her business,” Tony states. “And you need to handle yours. Y/N said to take your ziti off the menu- it’s lacking.” And then he hangs up.

Almost immediately, the redhead knows something is wrong. That anger that had been there just a few seconds ago disappears in a flash- you’re in trouble somehow. You would never, ever tell her that her ziti is lacking. It’s your favorite dish of hers, and has been- it was the first dish that she ever made for you and had secured a place for her in your heart. It was the dish that you insisted be at your wedding because you knew that it would only make the one of the happiest days of your life even better.

She knows she has to call her manager and let her know that she won't be in until late tonight, if at all. The restaurateur is able to relay this information, along with the ingredients that she’s managed to put on a list to go shopping for, before turning her attention back to your girls and the meal that’s being made.

Once dinner is on the table, Cat and Rosie chat your wife’s ear off about their days- and while she would usually listen avidly, her mind wanders to you and what you could be dealing with right now.

“Mommy?” Rosie waves a hand in front of her mother’s eyes.

Melissa blinks a few times. “Sorry, baby. Mommy’s a little distracted thinking about the restaurant right now. What were you saying?”

She makes an active attempt to stay as engaged with the girls as possible. And they’re fine, up until bedtime. They know you’re supposed to be home by now; you had promised them that you would be home for a family night and to read them a story like you haven't been able to for a bit now.

“Mam is running late,” Melissa tells them regretfully. “But I’m sure she’ll read you a story another time, so can you please just let Mommy read and get to sleep? You have school tomorrow.”

That throws both of your girls into absolute conniption fits, and your wife can only get them to settle with her in the bed that the two of you share, each of them clinging to one of your pillows. The woman who so desperately needs to attend to her own business sighs as she settles into the middle of the bed, one of your twins on either side of her, and prays that you’re okay.

You rub your eyes as you sigh. Both Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek are sat across from you at the small table. The small interrogation room feels even smaller than it did when you entered. It’s warm with its lack of windows. It takes a good portion of your concentration every few minutes to remember you can’t remove your blazer despite the Agents having removed their’s a long time ago.

“For the fifteenth time,” You grit out between your teeth. Your hand falling away from your eyes to thunk onto the metal table. “I have no idea who would wanna hurt Bobby. He was a nice enough boss even if he was clueless about how to balance his accounting. I didn’t wanna hurt Bobby. I bought the salon from him years ago, which would have been the only thing he’d have that I’d want anyway.”

“Y/N, you know that just telling us the truth would get you out of here a lot faster.” Agent Dinek says. She doesn’t lean forward or uncross her arms that are over her chest as she looks at you. She looks bored now.

Your hand on the table curls into a fist. You’ve let the interrogation go on this long, hoping it would just be a few questions you could bat off. A couple answers and then home. Now, it’s nearing three in the morning and you’re still sitting in the uncomfortable chair. The agents are still staring at you from their seats next to the door. You swear the thermostat has risen a couple times since you’ve been here.

This, being in an interrogation room at the PPD with FBI agents, is dangerous. Asking for your lawyer is even more dangerous. If you have to resort to that; you’re well and truly fucked. In the few times you’d been in interrogation rooms, you’d only had to answer a few questions, clear up a timeline. That was it. Those moments though were never with the FBI.

They had only been with the PPD. Police officers you were more than familiar with. People from your neighborhood. People who knew you. People that came to the salon or your wife’s restaurant. A small handful on the force know exactly who you are and what your business really is. Those people though are in the families pockets. Irish or Italian, or both. Paid for their information their unique positions give them access to.

Agent Shaw and Agent Dinek aren’t in anyone’s pocket. They seem to know exactly who is, at least on the streets, though. They’ve brought up plenty of names you’re overly familiar with over the last twelve hours or so. Triple checking how you know them, and how well you know them.

You’re reaching your limit. If you don’t ask to speak with your lawyer, force the “interview” to end, your only other option is to come clean. You think about emerald green eyes. The eyes you fell in love with practically the first time you looked into them. You think about little faces that look like little minis of your wife even though she claims they look more like you. If you come clean it isn’t just you paying for this. Nevermind the people beneath you and the rest of the families.

What kills you to picture is your wife and your daughters paying for it. You don’t really care what happens to the Irish or the Italians at this moment. The entirety of Cosa Nostra could fall apart and you wouldn’t give a damn. If your wife or your girls are touched even the slightest, even just inconvenienced, you would raise hell.

You slowly lean back in your chair, feeling the binder beneath your blazer press into your spine. “I’d like to speak with my lawyer.”

TAGS, and let me know if you want to be added! : @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary

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kirame90 · 2 months

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Caught pt 33

Have a fully shaded Sniper because...yeah I got busy with this one and messed up the layers agaaaaaain.

I just love the dynamic between the Spies, even if I say so myself. They're best friends but aren't letting themselves get off easy. Snipers are way more chill, BLU doesn't seem half as bothered as his magnificent other half.

Anyway, this is the final part of Caught. I hope you enjoyed it, thank you for sticking around! More stuff is on its way from random silliness, animatics and NSFW pieces ;)

The coloured & uncensored versions are located on my Patreon in case anyone’s interested. Please note that all of the pledges are going to non-profit charities as they always have.

The charity of March 2024 is Save The Children

They are combating poverty, providing nutrition & education to the rural areas, advocating for human rights and rushing humanitarian aid to wherever it's needed.

You can read more about their work here

Thank you for your invaluable support, one and all! <3

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#tf2 #teamfortress2 #sniperspy #sniper x spy #bloodysuit #knifeparty #charity #comic #webcomic #fanart #tf2 spy #tf2 sniper

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schemmentis · 25 days

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La Cosa Nostra - Pt. 12

Cowritten w/ @janeyseymour

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11

Summary: Melissa's side business begins, and you begin to feel the heaviness of your situation.

WC: 2.3k

“Good morning, Tony.” Shaw greets the salon manager as he steps towards him and his partner. “Where's Y/N?”

Tony crosses his arms. “Takin’ a vacation.” He answers coldly. “You got more questions; you're gonna have to ask me.”

“Tony,” Danik sighs. “We've been through this before, haven't we? The first time we were here. You know how it works, how about you save us the time and call your boss down here?”

“My boss?” Tony echoes. After a moment he nods. “Yeah, sure. I'll call my boss for ya.”

The last time they were here, the agents had paced the front of the salon as they waited, eyeing everything they could in their search. Today, they stay in a corner, watching the few stylists and Tony at work. Danik is a moment away from asking Tony how long this is going to take when someone walks into the front from the back of the salon.

The man is tall. His dark hair slicked back on his head, shiny with the product used to keep it in place. He looks at ease, calm, as he approaches the agents. He flashes a smile when he nears, white teeth shown and his eyes crinkling at the edges with the motion. His hand is held out to Danik and Shaw individually.

“My apologies for keeping you waiting, Agents. I had to finish things up with my other business.”

“I'm sorry…” Shaw starts as he shakes the man's hand. “Who are you?”

The man chuckles, nodding. “Ah sí, sí, mi scusi. I forget myself this morning. Luca Bellino, at your service. I'm happy to answer any questions you have or walk you through the back again if you like.”

The agents share a look between each other.

“I think there's been some misunderstanding.” Danik says as she looks back to Luca. “We asked to speak with Y/N.”

Luca’s head tilts to the side, looking back at the confused looking agents, matching their expression. “Did you?” He asks as his brow furrows. “I was told you requested the owner.”

“Well, yes.” Shaw says, a bit slowly. “The owner. Y/N.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” Luca sighs in sudden understanding. “Please, come with me.” He requests, turning and leading the agents to the back office of the salon.

“You must not have been informed.” Luca says as he steps through the office, opening a drawer of the filing cabinet and pulling a yellow file folder from it before closing it once more.

He sets the file folder to the desk, facing the agents standing on the other side of the wood. Deft fingers open the folder, tapping the papers now visible. “You see?” Luca says, looking back up to Danik and Shaw. “I'm the owner now. The salon was signed over to me a few days ago.”

“Y/N sold the salon to you?” Danik asks as she's studying the forms in front of them.

“Sí.” Luca answers as his hands cross at the wrists to rest at his waist, his head nodding. “You've seen our books, no? The salon hasn't been as profitable in the last few months. Y/N tried to bring it out of the red but in the end it was safer to sell, especially with her little family to think about.”

“So, now you're going to try to bring the salon’s profits up?” Shaw asks.

Luca smiles, though this time it doesn't reach his eyes. “Do not tell the stylists, or Tony.” He says softer, leaning a bit forward. “I haven't had the chance to speak with them yet and I'd hate for them to learn from anyone other than me but I’m working out the details of shutting the salon down.” Luca sighs, looking for all the world like he wishes he had another choice. “It's just too much to turn around and the clients aren't coming in like they used to. It's the best thing we can do before it gets worse.”.

Danik raises a brow, but he relents.

The two agents head out, but not before Luca calls out to them, “Whatever you have against the Schemmenti family, drop it. They had nothin’ to do with Bobby’s demise.”

Your day is uneventful. You have nothing to do now that the girls are at school, Melissa is at work, and the salon is out of your hands. You mill around the house, doing as much cleaning as you possibly can before you groan and fall face first onto the couch, bored out of your mind.

You lay there for a few moments before you finally sigh and grab your keys. You make your way out of the house and towards Twelve Tables.

Melissa would say she’s shocked to see you when you come in through the back- but she isn’t. She knows how hard this is for you to not be involved in any of your work right now, both salon and other wise.

“Hi, my love,” you sigh as you pick up a knife and start chopping the broccoli next to her.

“What’re you doing here?” She just briefly glances at you before going back to her own work.

“I think I’m dying of boredom,” you tell her. “I can’t remember the last time I had this much time off from everything.”

“Would you mind chopping this up then while I attend to other business?”

“Other business?” Val asks as she makes her way out of the walk-in fridge.

“I have things to do in the office,” Melissa says, just a bit too quickly. “Scheduling, finances… I think we may need to look into other companies to deliver.”

You raise a brow, as does the manager, but you nod. You know that what she’s actually doing is trying to clean up the area in order to run your other business alongside this one. If you’re going to execute this, and execute it well, everything has to be in it's own place.

So, that’s what the redhead heads into the office to do.

“Melissa seems frazzled lately,” Valentina notes softly. “Is everything okay at home?”

You shrug. “I uh… had to sell the salon,” you lie through your teeth. “It hasn’t been making money, so… you know. She’s probably stressed over that.”

The woman hums, and for the rest of the time that you’re there until you have to pick up your girls you’re directed on what to chop, dice, slice, and grate.

Finally, you pop your head into the back. “Mel? I have to go pick up the girls. Are you coming with me?”

“Hmm?” Her eyes don’t even leave the new ledger that she’s creating. “I have to wait for the shipment to come in, so… I’ll be home for bedtime though.”

She isn’t. And your girls are beyond confused as to why the three of you can’t stop down at the restaurant for a quick hug and kiss from Mommy and why they can’t have coloring time with Valentina. You can’t tell them the real reason- you just explain that Melissa is busy.

“But Mommy is always busy, and we still always get to go there!” Rosie whines.

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” You sigh. You know you still could, technically, take them down to the restaurant. Just long enough to say goodnight. Except you can feel your wife glaring at you from across town if you did. Or worse, picture her having to keep her attention away from your girls because she's so busy.

It becomes a point of contention the rest of the night. Your girls both throw fits because they don't understand. Just getting them dinner fed has you stretched thin. By the time you're fighting with them about bath time you're feeling yourself begin to shake slightly. The girls’ attitudes and fits this evening aren't really what upsets you; it's just the last straw on top of everything else.

You just barely get them both towel dry from the bath when you tell them to pick out their pajamas. The one thing they don't argue with you on this evening as they get to choose their own clothes; one of their favorite things.

You kneel on the tile, letting the bath water out. One of the girl's towels still in your hand you lean to wipe up a small puddle. You toss the towel to the pile near the door to put in the laundry. You sigh, and instead of getting up you let yourself shift backward to sit on the bathroom floor with your back against the wall.

You bury your face in your hands as you try to stop the sudden tears from overflowing. You just need a minute, you tell yourself. Just a minute you'll let it happen and then you'll pull yourself together. Except you can't. You force deep breaths but you can't stop the tears still rolling from your eyes down your cheeks. You lean your head against the wall as you hear little voices calling.

“Mam! Mam!” It's both Cat and Rosie, steadily getting closer.

You really try to stop as you wipe your eyes. You don't want them to see you like this. Yet each swipe at your face just sees more tears filling your eyes.

“Mam! Look at my slippies! I did them on myself!” Rosie exclaims as she shuffles into the doorway, looking at her feet. She's wearing your wife’s house slippers. Backwards.

“Mam!” Cat is saying beneath her sister speaking, appearing at her side at the same time. “I don't have slippies! It's not fair, Rosie has slippies!”

You go to look up, but you hate showing any signs of weakness in front of your girls, so your head stays down as you attempt to pull yourself up from the floor. You lean against the sink, hands tightly gripping the porcelain sink, knuckles growing about as white as the utility in front of you. You keep your back to them, not wanting them to see you as the mess that you are right now.

“Girls,” you sigh shakily. “Mam cannot right now. Get yourselves to bed, and I’ll be in to read your story to you in a few minutes.”

“But Mam!” Cat whines out. You hear her stomp her little foot against the cool bathroom tile, and you can practically see the way that her arms are crossed over her chest- a look that she absolutely picked up from your wife. “Rosie has slippies, and I want-”

Wiping away your tears, you turn around. “Caterina Ann.”

At seeing your face so distraught and aged, both of your twins’ faces drop. “Mam?” They both ask.

“Mam just needs a minute,” you sigh softly, hating the way that your voice breaks just slightly. “Please, girls.”

At that, both of your girls slink off. Your oldest walks off while your youngest shuffles her feet quietly. You half-expect to hear her giggles at the way she’s heading down the hall, but you don’t. Even at their young ages, Cat and Rosie understand that your crying in front of them is not okay- something isn’t right.

When you find it in you to pull yourself out of the bathroom, you head for their room. When you get there though, they aren’t in their beds like you expect them to be. In fact, their pillows and the stuffed animals they insist on sleeping with every night have vanished too. That only means one thing.

You appear in the doorway of your own room, and you see them curled up in your bed. Silently, you thank God you had let your wife talk you into splurging and getting a king-sized bed. It comes in handy for nights like this when both girls worm their way into your bed and Melissa will be getting home and sliding in too.

“Mam,” Rosie pats the spot in between her and her sister. “We leaved room for you.”

Despite the sadness that had inhabited your soul just a few seconds ago, you let a soft smile slip at the kindness and thoughtfulness of your girls. You may not be doing everything right in this world, but you are raising two wonderful, wonderful young ladies.

“Give me a few minutes to change and prepare for bed,” you sigh softly as you wipe new tears from your eyes. “And then I’ll be in.”

It’s about ten minutes later, once you’ve gotten into your sleep apparel and shed a few more tears without the girls’ knowledge, that you slip in between them. Cat hands you a book- your favorite book to read aloud to them.

After their story, they both curl up into your sides and promptly fall asleep, tired from their crazy day in kindergarten.

And once they’re asleep? Your tears return. Silent sobs shake your body as you mourn the death of Bobby all over again, one that you never wanted in the first place- you had actually pleaded for them to not order the hit on the man. You bite your lip and let the tears flow over the fact that you’ve been taken off of the salon- that you have no idea what’s happening there now despite the fact that it’s only been a few days. You hate the fact that your wife is taking all of this on- that her restaurant is in danger now because you got the feds on your tail and don’t know how to shake them loose. Your heart breaks when you remember that Barbara is now in danger because she holds onto the ledger that determines your, and now your wife’s, fate, and she was still there for you in a moment of weakness at the church. It gets to a point where you’re just crying over it all, a hand clamped over your mouth as the sobs bubble up inside of you, and you have to muffle the noise or else you’ll wake your girls. You end up crying yourself to sleep, body exhausted with all of the emotions coursing through it like a river. You’re drowning- absolutely drowning in it all.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary fanfiction #la cosa nostra #collab fic

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leafywillow · 2 years

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Some useful? tips for disney dreamlight valley in case anyone's interested:

1. Always have someone hanging out with you! Especially if the role you gave them matches what you're currently doing (crop role when you're harvesting can get you double the crops!) But either way doing literally anything gives you friendship pts with them!

2. Do NOT convert dream shards. This one is kind of everywhere but it's too true lol so save them bitches

3. Get remy's restaurant asap! it unlocks butter, milk, etc which allows you to make soufflés which you can sell for a shit ton of coins

4. ALSO upgrade your house (exterior sign NOT the interior elevator) asap as it's the only way to increase the storage in your OG house chest!

5. Canola is the best crop to make a profit. It's $25 per seed bag but sells for $100+ per crop and only takes 30 min to grow! Grow it in its native zone forest of valor to grow it even faster too

Ok that's it for now hope this helps if anyone needs it! May make more tip lists as I go if anyone's interested but also youtube videos have been my bestie for making money fast so def check out those too if you want! Happy gaming 😁😁

#disney dreamlight valley #nonsims #kasey talks #ik this was very random but i just suddenly had the urge so here ya go #hopefully it helps someone or is at least interesting lol

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youareabird · 1 year

Text

Polygraph exam Pt. 1

You sat there nervously, looking around the room as you listened to the interviewer. "You have nothing to worry about as long as you answer honestly."

You nod, "Make's sense." you say, nervousness dousing your voice as you spoke. The administrator standing up as you watched him closely. In hand, he had the strap, instructing you to reach up your arms so he could put it around your torso.

"So you're like... legit?"

"Yes, I was a detective for the District Attorney's office. You're in good hands." he joked. Pulling at velcro, and slipping on the device to your fingers.

"I guess we'll see." you said lightly. The room was quiet as the man plugged in his equipment. Once finished, he gave a thumbs up to the interviewer.

"To begin, I'm going to be calibrating the machine by asking you some straightforward questions. Please answer honestly. Is your full name Y/N L/N?"

"Yes."

"Were you born (month,day,year?)"

'Yes."

"Are you about to take a polygraph exam?"

"Yes."

"Are you nervous?"

"Deathly." you say stiffly, sweat reaching your pals as they rested on the table.

"Alright, lets get started with your life-" she said monotonly, "You're a bit of an uprising celebrity, did you expect to blow up?"

"Uh no, I didn't, I started doing this as a hobby."

"You were homeschooled growing up, Were you a good student?"

"Yes." you say truthfully, the nerves starting to grow in your stomach as the questions reached your ears.

"Did you every cheat on a test?"

"I think everyone has, so yes."

"They're telling the truth." The man said, sat beside you at another table, reading the results of your test.

"Did your parents ever find out?"

"If they did, they never addressed it."

"You use to work at a popular store -" the interviewer said, pausing as she continued to read the questions, "There were allegations that you stole, did you?"

"No, I didn't. They didn't like me very much." You said lightly, looking over at the machine to see if it would lie.

"That's the truth."

"You looked over like you were expecting a different answer."

"I was trying to see if the machine would lie."

"And did it?"

"No."

"Lets move on to, your career."

"Alright."

"The first thing you've ever been in is, 'The Last of Us'?" she began, "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes, everyone was very welcoming and I've learned to love all of them."

"That's a lie." the administrator said.

"Which part?"

"Would you like to change your answer?"

"It's not a lie, The cast and crew is truly my family , I was in a commercial when I was younger though."

"And why did you lie?"

"It's embarrassing to be in a commercial like that."

"And, what was the commercial?"

"I believe it was for toilet paper," you pause hesitantly thinking back on to the misfortune you ensued to yourself. "I was young so I could be wrong."

"Do you think you'll be in another?"

"I don't think so, its not my forte."

"That's a lie."

"its not my forte, But I was just casted for a commercial, I wasn't suppose to mention anything"

"And why did you lie?"

"I don't like them that much."

"And what is the commercial?"

"It's for a non profit organization."

"How is that different than other commercials?"

"Its not ran by people just for money, they're not capitalizing on the cause."

"The next category is relationships."

"Perfect."

"You once said that this person-" sliding a photo of Pedro Pascal, "had a big impact on your life"

"Yes, that's correct."

"You said that without him, you wouldn't be acting. Is that still true?"

"Yes, he took me under his wing and continues to encourage me to do my best."

"And what about this person?" a picture of Bella making an appearance.

"They have also made an impact, yes."

"How?"

"They're just one of the coolest people I've met, super nice and friendly."

"Do they intimidate you?"

"No."

"That's a lie."

"Well, Kind of. They're very outspoken and confident in what they do."

"There are rumors stating you have a crush on this person, have you heard them?"

"I have, yes."

"And are they true?"

"No." looking at the machine, "I love them to death but we're just friends."

"That's a lie."

"You keep lying, why?"

"Cause if I say I have a crush on one of my friends then it'll be awkward. And ill have to deal with press and media telling me to date one of the people I love the most"

"You do though."

"I do, but if I admitted it then it would be true."

"You just did."

"That's true."

"Would you want to date them?"

"Is there any point in my trying to lie?"

"No."

"Then yes, I would love to spend every waking minute with them as possible."

"Final question - At any point, did you lie during this interview and we didn't catch you?"

"Unfortunately no." you laugh while shaking your head.

#bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey #bellaramsey #bella ramsey fanfic #hbo the last of us #bella #ramsey #bella x reader #tlou #ellie the last of us #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #lgbtqia

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skyeslittlecorner · 5 months

Text

Small gameplay tips pt. 1

I love to do my little shenanigans to take out as much as I can, so here are little tips, and maybe I can call it good practices?

I wanted to include a little more here, but oh well, in the end here I am with a math essay...

In summary: Buying keys for pancakes every day is very profitable.

Daily reroll

See these keys? Delicious, free keys? Yes. Free. What you get from them is worth more than what they cost.

For those who are curious why, you got the whole math below.

Let's write down the values right away:

S Devil - 80 pancakes A+ Devil - 20 pancakes S Artifact - 10 pancakes A+ artifact - 5 pancakes

I do not mention the L value because it is nice to have it, and besides, the chances of being drawn are so low that we will not use them to estimate the average.

Let's assume two small conditions.

1) You have some pancakes to start with, let's say at least ~300

2) You have a goal (and this is VERY important)

Buying keys with pancakes will give you 10 pulls a day, which you can use immediately. Do it. Remember what you got, it's best to take a screenshot. If the card or artifact you're looking for isn't among them, you sell EVERYTHING. Yes all. This artifact you need for development too. This evolution of your favorite too. All. If you have a large supply of pancakes, go ahead, you can save something, but below 500 it's better to be safe than sorry.

You leave only what you were hunting for from the beginning - most likely L's cards and artifacts.

Taking the average of the draw percentages, in 10 pulls you should get: 1x S grade devil, 4x A+ grade devil, 2x S grade artifact, 3x A+ grade artifact.

So, roughly estimating, averge return of pancakes should be around 195. Keys costs 180.

Example - random 10x pull i made to make this post was worth ~400 pancakes.

I'm surprised Gusion isn't here lol

So far, I have made many pull and there have been some that were both above and below average. In the worst case scenario, I made about 100 pancakes. Math is math, but luck is luck. That's why I advise keeping some savings. I would say 300 is the absolute minimum. I'm ultra frugal, so I like to have at least 800 pancakes on hand, but it depends on you when you feel safe.

There are also surprises, such as new cards that cannot be sold, but it depends on the account, so I didn't take it into account. General rule is the same for all.

If you hasn't used these keys before, I hope you will start. This is one of the most generous things from PB. It's worth trying :D UPDATE: I've been questioned about how to get pancakes, so here are the screenshots! You can sell both artifacts and devil duplicates in your inventory.

#whb #what in hell is bad #overanalyzing #whb tips

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bpfbanjar · 14 hours

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anika-ann · 1 year

Text

No Pressure - Pt.2 (S.R.)

Type: two-shot, early relationship, canon-ish (see A/N); Part 1

Pairining: Steve Rogers x reader (GG x Sparkles) Word count: 12,5k

Summary:

Having gotten a sound advice from a friend, you and Steve try to work things out. And maybe, it will end up with you two working out; because Steve Rogers does nothing by halves - less so with you.

Warnings: 18+ for some serious FILTH, SMUT, unprotected piv, brief mention of a jerk from Sparkles’ past, fluff, language

A/N: Standalone or a two-shot following Love on the Brain series and its oneshots - you might profit from checking the masterlist for characters; divider by firefly-graphics 😍

A/N: 6,8k of fluff done ✅it’s time for 12k of healthy communication and NSFW if you wanna spli the reading, look for “let alone such small bump on the road” - underlined

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.”

- E.E. Cummings

Having decided to spend the night at a hotel instead of rushing back to New York – no matter how fast the Quinjet could get – you said your goodbyes around one a.m., retreating to your room. Steve reserved a classy and slightly overpriced hotel for you taste, but as you walked through the surprisingly still lively lobby, you understood his choice. Even as it was Captain America with you on his arm walking by, no one blinked an eye – or didn’t approach you at least.

Hand in hand, you got into the elevator and you found yourself truly grateful for the privacy. Relaxed, you leaned your head onto Steve’s shoulder, catching his soft smile in the mirror. He dropped a kiss to your forehead.

“I had a really good time tonight, Sparkles. Thank you for taking me… all of us,” he muttered, causing you to grin up at him.

You couldn’t but agree with his sentiment – you had the best time too, seeing your two lives merge together effortlessly, with banter and laughs having left you tipsier than the little alcohol you had drunk. The merry atmosphere of the evening had now turned into a serene one, a slightly hazy dream of sorts – but the lightness of your heart remained.

Standing to your tiptoes, you pecked Steve’s lips chastely, hand on his shoulder for balance.

“My pleasure. Thank you for coming with me.”

Face to face, he lifted your joined hands, caressing your cheek with the back of his, eyes bright and proud.

“Always.”

You didn’t get the chance to process the butterflies in your stomach at his simple declaration as the door behind your back slid open, revealing the corridor leading to your room. Steve simply beckoned with his chin, lightly tugging at your hand and walking you out.

Leave to it Steve Rogers he’d only release that hand to hold the door open for you; you exaggerated the ‘why thank you, Mr.Rogers’ as you made a little curtsey and only then stepped in, taking a brief moment to scan the room as you kicked off your shoes.

A queen-sized bed with burgundy and cream cushions dominated the room, complemented by dark-wood closet with matching nightstands. Cream-coloured sofa aligned with the silvery walls; it almost faced, a little absurdly, the bathroom door, as if the guests could choose whether to watch the TV or hypnotize the door until it opened. Peeking behind the corner, you were welcomed by large and no-doubt one-way window replacing one of the walls, offering the view of city lights. Your overnight bags Steve had had brought up there sat by a drawer, right under non-descript modern art painting.

Despite the strictly hotel-like look of the room big enough to mimic a junior suite, you could still sense an air of home; but perhaps that was only the person you’d share the space with.

The door clicked shut with a barely-there noise, causing you to look over your shoulder with an automatic smile – one that turned curious when you found Steve still by the door, posture stiff and face focused. It seemed he had observed your every step, every little movement and as you spun on your heels to face him fully, his gaze flickered down for barely a second. And the moment he met your eyes again, your throat went a little dry, your brain registering something new in the way he was looking at you.

“What?” you asked awkwardly, pulse thundering so loud in your ears that had Steve decided to answer, you probably wouldn’t have heard him anyway.

Luckily, he was a man of action more often than not; and the new emotion you deciphered in his blown pupils was pure fire, speaking louder than words.

In three long strides, he was on you, hand cradling your jaw, mouth latching onto yours just as his arm wrapped around your waist. That was good thinking – the force with which his body had slammed into yours, the way he knocked all air from your lungs and had your head spin, would have probably had you lose your balance. Not to mention the same fire you had seen in his gaze licking at your insides, having your body melt into his.

But he got your back. Always.

He never released the firm grip around your middle as his tongue easily gained access into your mouth, tasting every whimper he elicited from you as he walked you backwards to the couch, hard muscle of his thighs brushing against yours with every step, his semi-hard bulge pressing just above your pubic bone.

A breathless sound of his name escaped you as he freed your lips in favour of breathing, mouth never leaving your skin, trailing along your jaw.

Had you had the mental capacity, you’d have wondered whether his supersoldier ears had heard your conversation with JJ – but the fleeting thought flew out of the window the moment the world spun and you found yourself falling, Steve’s strong hands catching you, his thighs wedged between yours, having you naturally straddle him as he planted himself on the couch.

You had no damn idea what had gotten into him, but you weren’t about to question it.

The way his lips dominated yours had you tingle all over down to your fingertips, a crushing wave of heat stirring in your belly and flushing your core when his hips bucked just an inch up, his jeans-clad thighs meeting your own unwitting movements. Your hands found purchase of his shoulder and his hair, fingers sinking into his carefully combed silky strands. He sighed into your mouth contentedly as you did so, fingers flexing on your nape as he pulled you even closer, chest pressed to chest. When his hand inched lower, from the small of your back to the patch of skin just above the hem of your jeans, sliding under it and squeezing over the thin fabric of your panties, you were not proud of the sound that left your lips – but Steve didn’t seem to mind, his fingers flexing in your hair just enough to make you feel it and boost your confidence, but not enough to hurt.

Crumbling his shirt in a loose fist, you panted when his lips released you and his forehead lightly bumped into yours; his frantic breaths fanned over your face, hand moving back up again, drawing gentle circles on your back. Several pecks on your mouth, soft kisses peppered on your chin, on your cheek and along your jaw. You could feel his grip on you loosening, only making you grasp at him firmer, because it felt like whatever this had been was slipping from your fingers – as did he.

He gazed up at you and the sight of him – eyes wide with want, lips bruised, cheeks flushed – would be most precious hadn’t you sensed the lust slowly evaporating from between the two of you, Steve’s retreat drawing a thick line behind the outburst of passion. His lips traced a path down your throat, soft and soothing, warm, but not burning; he rested his forehead against your collarbone, having you tip your head back and nearly whine when his hnd respectively returned above the hem of your jeans.

As you gazed to the higher corner of the room, you felt tears of frustration and shame prickling your eyes. All the heat in your body morphed into embarrassment, the last drop to the figurative goblet of patience finally leading to an overflow.

“Why do we always do that?” you whispered soundlessly, your voice cracking on its edge.

Steve winced, head snapping up so quick he nearly knocked into your chin in the process; the lack of coordination spoke of just how taken aback he was by that question.

He stared at you, eyes wide, expression equally startled and pained. You gulped against the lump in your throat, squaring your shoulders to feign courage at least to yourself. Steve didn’t say a word, simply looking at you; at least he had the decency not to ask what you were talking about. That was both wonderful and awful, because on one hand, you were on the same page about something happening – on the other hand, you were on the same page about something happening.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, painfully soft, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he heard you suck in a harsh breath.

“How do we always end up here? I don’t… I don’t want to push you, I don’t want to push me. But I- is there something- is this about crossing some line, that we- you--- fuck,” you cursed as three hot droplets rolled down your cheeks, causing you to grit your teeth as you stomach flipped in shame. You angrily wiped the tears away, unable to meet Steve’s no doubt panicked gaze. Stop. You’re being ridiculous. “God-dammit, I wanted to talk about this and not break into damn tears, I don’t want to be that person—sorry, just, please, forget about this-“

You made to stand up and step back to retain some sort of dignity, because being a soppy mess – on both your face and in your underwear because god damn, Steve was such a skilful kisser and you craved his hands on you so much it was absurd – on top of him felt like anything but. He never let you; his grasp was gentle but unrelenting, much like the trap of his gaze you vainly tried to escape.

“That’s a little hard to forget,” he said lowly, every syllable sitting heavy on your chest – and from the look of it, on his too.

“Well… try,” you pleaded, fighting to gather your composure back, because Jesus, why on Earth were you crying, who even did that, were you into emotional manipulation now? And were you truly crying because your relationship wasn’t moving fast enough for your taste? Alright, that was oversimplification, but still, to shed tears over this was ridiculous and vile.

You knew Steve hated seeing you like this, you hated seeing him losing his composure too, and you had the situation been reversed, you’d do anything to turn his frown upside down. Anything. And so would he. You were so not in for a pity fuck that would, in addition to being a pity fuck, ruin everything.

Why did you have to open your big stupid mouth instead of basking in the fact you were finally with the man you were pining after for two long years? Why couldn’t you keep marvelling at the luck, the privilege not many people had to be with your friend, your love, your GG?

You just had to go and open the pandora box, didn’t you?

Shaking your head, you pressed against Steve’s shoulders, causing him to frown harder – you could see the conflict on his face. He didn’t want to let you go, sensing you were truly upset and knowing his touch tended to ground you and him, but at the same time, he wanted to respect your need for space. Because he was a sweetheart. He’d never hurt you and if you just talked to him, explained your side of things, calmly, he’d hear you out and you’d work things out.

JJ had been right – you and Steve did need to talk. But now, with the chest of insecure thoughts unlocked in your brain, was absolutely not the time. Especially not with the scene you had just made.

Jesus, Sparkles, get a grip.

“I’m sorry. I’m just… I’m being absolutely ridiculous,” you chuckled self-consciously, the sound tasting foreign on your lips. You didn’t even recognize the crazy person who burst in tears a minute ago. You wondered if any of your profiler friends would give you a scientific explanation for that. Probably Spence. Maybe Rossi, having had gone through three marriages. Then again Derek probably had the most experience with variety of relationships – though the reason for that was that they never lasted long. Maybe Emily would-

A tender touch on your jaw stopped the frantic train of your thoughts; you blinked, focusing your gaze back to Steve’s face.

“Hey… I doubt that, Sparkles. Tell me what’s wrong. Is this about earlier, at the bowling alley? When you and JJ disappeared for a bit and you were upset? What exactly do you mean by ending up here?”

The flicker of fiery anger in his irises had the corners of your lips twitch weakly, your heart fluttering. ‘Do I have a beef with someone for making my girl sad?’ he had said, his protective persona reappearing.

Steve would beat up anyone who’d try to touch you within the inch of their life and you loved that about him. The issue here, however, was that he’d need to beat up either you or himself.

You genuinely believed this wasn’t the best time to discuss this – but the sincerity in his voice had you make a U-turn. Perhaps there was no time like present; especially since whenever Steve encountered a problem, he was like a dog with a bone. He’d never let it go and even if he’d allow you to steer the conversation elsewhere, understanding you wanted more space to think about it first, he’d just lie awake all night, the gears in his head turning endlessly. That wasn’t fair; neither to you, nor to him.

You licked your lips, taking a wavering breath.

“I mean… us. This. Is it--- is it something I do? Something to make you uncomfortable?” you asked in a hushed whisper, Steve’s eyes now growing wide as saucers. “Or is it that we’ve been friends for too long? Do you—can you even--- see me as-“

Unsure how to finish your thought, you gestured vaguely along your body, nearly slapping his hand still resting on your hip in the process.

Steve’s watched you intently, clueless, seemingly wanting to ask twenty different questions about everything you just said, because you explained nothing. He settled at the most obvious thing.

“See you as…?” he raised his low voice into a question and you bit your cheek, embarrassment eating up all your words.

See you as a woman? Too vague. As an object of desire? Steve would not have it, you even implying you could be an object, even if that was just how the collocation went. A romantic partner wasn’t quite cutting it, a fuck buddy wasn’t the correct term and a set of holes, now that was just unnecessarily crude. Asking him if he ever wanted to sleep with you or have sex with you just sounded basic and blunt and his eyes was still roaming your face and-

Oh.

You could tell the exact millisecond the synapses in the beautiful brain of his sent the signal one to another to create the right image you were trying to paint so clumsily. You could tell because his eyebrows jumped high for a brief moment, before his expression changed into one of intense focus—oh god.

“Wait, so… let me clear something up. You are asking about why I don’t push further in our physical relationship?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, victorious and little desperate at once because there was no going back now. Courage, Jones. Like ripping off a band-aid. “Well… I guess I’m kinda asking—and this sounds awful, but is it you or is it me? Because I’m fine with slow!” Kinda. “I’m just--- we always start and then we stop and I… I can’t but wonder the stopping part is because of something I do, or something we are or have been, or if you feel… pressured into something you don’t want to do or… something…”

You trailed off, voice growing smaller and smaller under his searching gaze as did your vast vocabulary, until you couldn’t bear it and averted his eyes, pretending to find the way his navy-blue shirt contrasted against the creamy couch incredibly fascinating.

You were granted full five seconds before Steve decided – as you knew he eventually would – that he wouldn’t have it. The pads of his fingers applied the tinniest pressure to your chin, guiding you to look back at him; your eyes stubbornly stayed on the buttons of his shirt, until his thumb brushed over your swollen lower lip and your gaze met his at last.

“Sparkles… do you think that I don’t want you?” he asked slowly, so brilliantly baffled that your first instinct was to deny it.

“No! Of course not! It’s not that-- I mean--- I don’t- I don’t know…?”

His eyes softened, regret lacing the warm blue of his irises and you felt the suffocating weight in your lungs grow. Oh no. He pitied you. He thought you were an idiot and an oversensitive hysterical woman he had not signed up to date and you really needed to stop straddling him at least-

“Would you stop trying to get away from me, woman,” Steve huffed exasperatedly, his hands on your shoulder and hip growing firmer again. Not an unescapable cage, because your boyfriend was considerate to a fault, but tight enough to signal how much he wanted you to stay. Until he opened his mouth and made you want to climb out of his lap straight onto the floor in hopes for the carpet to swallow you. “Well, I admit, that is a little absurd--- stay where you are. Please. This is important, we need to talk about this.”

Fine. Fine. You stuck your chin up, crossing your arms on your chest, making Steve drop his hands to his sides. You only barely missed the way Steve’s lips twitched at your defiant gesture and sudden attitude.

You had to give it to him, however – you were much calmer. Somehow, he had managed to steer the tone of the conversation towards the way you usually communicated and despite the absolutely horrid topic of discussion, your insecurity and fear fell quiet, remaining nothing but a whisper in the very back of your mind.

“Okay, Mr. That Is A Little Absurd. Then how is it that you joked about leaving a mark just about anywhere almost a month ago and we didn’t make it past a hickey on my neck where marks are concerned and you never let me…” you paused, licking your lips, thinking about an appropriate way to address the issue of you having been the only to get off so far, “…touch you?”

A sad smile passed over his lips; this time, it was him who briefly lowered his gaze as if bashful.

“Well, you once said that my recklessness is in direct proportion with my ability to heal and… maybe you were a little right.” You couldn’t help it – your eyebrows arched, which didn’t seem to faze him, his hand finding its way to your thigh. “But not with you, Sparkles. I can’t afford to be reckless with you.”

You gulped, defiance leaving you in an instant, your heart touched by the display of vulnerability. But at the same time, you were completely at loss as to what on Earth he could mean by that.

He couldn’t be honestly afraid of accidentally getting you pregnant; for one, you knew for a fact Steve would handle the situation like a man and a champ, and for two, despite what Tony thought, the man out of time was well-aware of contraceptives, you were friends for long enough to know that. However, not being careful about that was about as far as your imagination went when associating the words reckless and sex.

“Reckless how?” you questioned softly, frowning as the gears in your brain turned and turned.

“I don’t want you to think I’m only after… that.”

Say what.

“GG, I would never think that of you,” you chuckled incredulously, thinking for a moment that he was making up a bullshit excuse – except his face was perfectly serious and he shrugged, nothing but sincerity written in his expression.

“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s not like that never happens, is it?”

Oh.

The memory hit you with surprising force and clarity – one of the rare off nights for the Avengers Steve insisted you should come for, maybe four, five months ago, plenty of alcohol and a silly game of truth or dare. It was Tony’s turn--- no Clint’s and you had picked a truth.

‘Aaalright, Johny-Jones, tell us about… your nemesis. Past or now—present. Go.’

It had taken you a minute and since you had apparently not been allowed to get philosophical and say that your nemesis was yourself at times, you picked Ryan. You both had been FBI in training and you had been an idiot, blinded by the fact a handsome guy whom you had sometimes competed against actually wanted you. You had thought it had been about passion; and in a way it had. Two weeks later, the night he had got his dick wet – you remembered now, that had been the exact phrase you used during the Avengers game night – he had been out of the door and then bragged about it, laughing in your face at any chance he had got. By the blessings of karma, he had had little to brag about when he had later failed psych eval necessary to sign up for the Profiling 101 course. You, on the other hand, had got in, never having to see that jerk again.

Only now when Steve indirectly pointed it out, you recalled that your GG had seemed to be particularly protective over you for the rest of the night and for the weeks that had followed.

Because he was always there, ready to defend you, to protect you from harm; should it be inflicted by others or himself.

Suddenly, your eyes burned for a different reason, your stomach tight with emotion as sweet as heavy. In the back of your mind, you cursed Ryan, the insignificant asshole of a man, for creeping into your life years later and adding to the small crisis in your current relationship. Relationship that was nothing like the one with him. It would have never even crossed your mind that Steve could be after getting his dick wet in your honey pot; the idea was more than just a little absurd considering the man you knew he was. But his supersoldier brain with eidetic memory worried it might have – because it had happened to you before.

He watched you for long moments, patiently letting you process. You didn’t know whether to kiss him senseless or smack some sense into him, because how could he even think that was an issue? Just about everything he had ever done for you without a promise of anything more than friendship solidified the notion of him being ridiculously virtuous long time ago. You knew in your very core that he was a good man.

Your man.

“Steve…”

“I don’t… I didn’t say that to be jerk. I just… I want to make you feel good and I want you to know you’re more to me than that. And I want to make sure I give before I take.”

Sweet mother of-

“Oh GG, but you’re already doing that, always! And-” You gulped, unable to say the word sex for some reason. “And it’s not always that I, uhm, I give you one and you give me one back and vice versa. It’s about making each other feel good, giving what the other needs… right? Making them feel loved.”

Look at you, suddenly being a relationship expert when you couldn’t get your shit together for the past few days.

Steve’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through your hair, regret returning to his eyes.

“I never meant to make you feel like I don’t want you,” he whispered, fingertips brushing along your jaw, stopping an inch from your lips. “I do. You have no idea what you do to me, sweetheart. The things I’d do for you, to you. I just… and you’re you. You’re perfect.”

If your heart skipped a beat at the implication of what he wanted to do to you, heat filled your cheeks when he even suggested you might be perfect even as you barely held back a snort.

Perfect. Right.

“I am most definitely not.”

But Steve just tilted his head to side, the charming bastard, that expressive blue of his eyes telling you not to dare and argue about how he apparently saw you.

Perfect.

It was just a stupid word, but damn, talk about pressure. It was a little hard to live up to the image when you were on a pedestal and maybe you had felt that too. Just another reason for why you didn’t exactly push Steve into crossing the line – because if you were being honest with yourself, even though Steve wasn’t the perfect human being, he was perfect for you and you wouldn’t want him to be disappointed when you’d get to be together that way. It was entirely reasonable for him to feel the same.

You could understand if he was worried about living up to expectations. You could understand if he wanted to make it perfect for you too. You could understand why he latched onto the thought of some lowlife who had once made you feel like you were nothing but a piece of meat and wanted to make sure you never had to feel like that ever again.

Tears welled up in your eyes, your breathing wavering. If you weren’t feeling like suffocating under the devastating affection behind Steve’s words, you’d scream in frustration, because you could have got this out of the way weeks ago, if you just communicated like two adults.

“It doesn’t help that I’m strong and sometimes I fail to be in control of that hundred percent,” Steve added, quickly following up when he saw you wanted to protest. “And I know you know that, just like you know I’d never want to hurt you, but if I get lost in you… I might. I never felt the way about anyone, not like I do with you, Sparkles.”

Overwhelmed by the direction the conversation took, into a perhaps strange, but possibly one of the most thoughtful declarations of love, it slowly dawned to you – much to your brief annoyance – that JJ had been right, again.

‘And what do you think are the chances that he feels just the same? I’d bet he thinks you’re the best damn woman and he really really doesn’t want to fuck it up either…’

You were two peas in a pot who ultimately just wanted for the other to be happy and comfortable but somehow forgot to mention it.

“So you… basically, you don’t want me to feel pressured, just like I don’t want you to feel pressured and you don’t want to hurt me and I don’t want to hurt you?” you piped up, earning a lopsided sad smile. “You just don’t want to mess it up just like I do?”

“Looks like.”

You let your forehead hit his lightly and he met you halfway, your eyelids sliding shut. Relief flooded your system in equal measure with exasperation, wining over just by nose.

“God, GG, we’re both idiots.”

His breathy chuckle tickled your face, his hands cradling your head. “Yeah… but you’re my idiot. Beautiful, considerate idiot-- no, all but the idiot part. You’re brilliant, Sparkles.”

You huffed, opening your eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at you – as if he meant every word.

“Beg to differ, but anyway. Pot, kettle.”

Steve smiled, his nose gently caressing yours before he retreated an inch. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I do want you,” he emphasized, no farther than a breath from your lips. “So much.”

“Noted. And… ditto.”

“And I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed, “that’d be nice, that sounds really-”

You never got to finish your sentence, silenced by his lips. You didn’t think you ever had been happier about someone not letting you say your part, never felt so calm despite excitement bursting in your chest. You were in Steve’s loving arms and he wanted you – there was nothing in the world you weren’t going to work through, let alone such small bump on the road.

You revelled in the taste of his smile and in the way his palm warmed your thigh even through your jeans. Parting your lips and yielding to his gentle advances with a sigh, all tension melted from your body, having you slide lower in his lap and catch yourself against his firm chest. A pleased rumble vibrated under your palms, large hand splaying over your back to press you closer to him even as the kiss grew more demanding, your pliant body bending backwards to accommodate Steve’s strength. His free hand gripped at the base of your neck to keep you still, a surge of arousal and confidence straight to your veins and muscles, nerves set on pleasant fire. You sunk your fingers into his hair again, body wrapping around his.

It had to be what he was waiting for, because a second later your found yourself in the air, clinging to Steve’s torso as his arm moved under your ass and hauled you up. The silent yelp of surprise was drowned in his mouth, your stomach flipping as you instinctively locked your ankles around his middle. You couldn’t care less where he carried you as long as he kept kissing you like that, but the direction he was heading was unmistakable.

At least you thought so until your back met the wall, eliciting a gasp from your lips, the bed flashing in the corner of your vision several feet too far. Your fingers dug into Steve’s bicep, clutching in his hair, heat pooling in your core. Oh god.

Oh the countless times you fantasized about this. Steve pinning you to the wall in a show of strength unmatched to another man, radiating heat and grabbing you like he couldn’t get close enough, tongue licking into your mouth as if he wished he could explore the depths of your soul and suck it right out of you.

The breathy ‘Steve’ when he retreated half an inch had to sound downright pornographic but you didn’t give a damn, because he wanted you, he wanted you just as much as you wanted him… right?

“You tell me if I do anything you don’t want or like?” he demanded, wording it like an order rather than a question, but your brain searched for a hidden meaning anyway, overanalysing even as you were slipping into kiss-drunken slumber.

You tell me. Anything you don’t like.

You shook your head, an echo of doubt guiding your fingers to cover Steve’s mouth and push him away.

Getting a first look on him ever since he lifted you, your mouth went positively dry despite the mouth-watering sight he made; his pupils were like smouldering coal and as much as you loved seeing soft affection in his eyes, you never wanted him to look at you any different that this ever again. He looked like he could eat you alive and have you begging for more. Even if his brows furrowed momentarily.

Focus, focus, Jones, you had an important thought.

“GG, wait. Don’t do this because you feel like you need to prove me something. We have time and we’ll figure it out, we… we can wait.”

HIs concern melted away, forehead narrowing, a sweet smile forming under your fingers before a kiss made you withdraw your hand and shut up.

His smile turned baffled – and then dangerous.

“That’s… really not why I want to do this,” he assured you, his voice dripping of amusement and something deliciously dark.

“Oh really?” you retorted, cheeky and unimpressed, ignoring (not) your position. “Because you never rise to a challenge.”

“Okay, that’s fair, but Sparkles…” he muttered, shaking his head and huffing a silent laugh that quickly turned devious when his body pressed against you so firmly that his hands completely released your body and you whimpered a silent oh my god because that was just his hips holding you against the wall and it should be scary but instead you just felt a shudder run up your spine knowing he would never drop you but that was the sheer weight of his body pinning you to the wall and you could probably let go of the death grip on his shoulders and waist and you still wouldn’t fall.

Those ridiculously warm hands of his cradled your face as you panted and licked your lips, Steve’s eyes flickering down to follow the movement and then stealing your breath altogether with a soft kiss that was everything you could want and yet not even close to what you needed. Your eyes slipped close but you could imagine what the scene looked like; you could feel his gaze on you, watching you with affection and heat, like something precious and his. And his you were, absolutely, he had no idea-

Wait, he was talking, he was trying to make a point--- what had you been talking about?

“Do you have any idea how long…“ he spoke directly to your mouth, one hand slipping lower, the pad of his thumb petting the hollow of your throat lovingly, leaving you unable to stiffen the moan bubbling right under his touch, “-how much I wanted this? Wanted you?”

“Steve-“

“I don’t want to ‘do this’ because it’s some challenge for me. Do you want to know why I do though?” he whispered, lips straying from yours, tracing the line of your jaw, hand sliding down your waist to your thigh as whoever was in control of your body had you nod frantically, earning a smile against your neck. “I want to do this to you because you loved being on the winning team today. So damn cheeky, enjoying getting one up on me.”

You giggled at the truth of his words, the sound turning breathy when Steve’s teeth nipped on your pulse point, your hips bucking forward despite having no space to do so in search for friction. Steve’s fingers flexed on your thigh at the futile attempt, a hiss escaping his lips when you tried to wiggle against his hard-on.

“I want you because there were so many guys just gawking at you tonight, but you were looking at me and you looked like you wanted me too.”

“I did—I do,“ you breathed out, all doubts and insecurities forgotten.

He was making very compelling arguments and the fleeting idea that this could have been some act of simply proving a point was long gone, poured down the drain of absurdity. Forget about that. You needed Steve. You needed him to do something, anything more than this and you needed it now.

“And then you kissed me like no one was watching, but I knew about every single jerk looking our direction wishing they were in my place.”

“Oh yeah, tons of them, I bet-“ you muttered sarcastically, but somehow, with his nimble fingers sneaking under the strap of your bra and letting it snap back lightly, your words sounded more like a confirmation when you whimpered.

When his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, you were sure he was going to make you come just like that, with his words, his hands on your body and his tongue licking at your collarbone.

Jesus Christ-

“Uh-huh. I want you because these damn jeans leave nothing to imagination but I imagined what you’re wearing under them anyway. And my head is fuckin’ full of your perfume I want to taste it as it clings to your skin when you wear absolutely nothing and I want to still smell it when you wear my shirt the morning after.”

Yes, yes, you wanted that too, like yesterday was too late already-

“I want you because that little dance of yours had me so fucking hard I almost took you right there in front of everyone.”

“GG, stop talking and kiss me,” you begged him because truly, truly, you were convinced, utterly and unchangeably, now if he could just get to it and sooth the liquid fire your insides turned into, that would be just wonderful. A+ for his dirty talk, but-

He ignored your plea, glancing up, eyes hungry, lips swollen and impossibly red when he smirked.

“I want you because you make me imagine doing things that are everything but gentle,” he corrected you darkly, fingertips tracing the soft skin of your breast just under the cut of your shirt, tickly in the most delicious way. “Some punk kid at the bar tried to touch your ass today and I wanted to break his hand. Six days ago, at your first full training after recovery, Rodriguez held nothing back despite his instruction and I had to send Natasha to deal with him because I would have broken his hand, I’d rip it right fucking off because he hurt you.”

Through the fog of arousal, you recalled the training in question. Rodriguez had got you in the ribs good, even if you had barely felt it the next day. Steve had been furious, but he always was; even as your friend he had hated seeing you hurt, it was one of the things that both warmed your heart and made the butterflies in your stomach flip their wings like crazy, made your core throb long before you professed your love to each other, even if a completely different way than he was doing it now.

All his admissions made for a tremble in your muscles, a race in your heart; he was whispering his sins into your skin as if your body was a confessional and with every kiss he was asking for absolution. A thoroughly good man asking absolution for his wrath and lust and greed. Everyone who knew Steve Rogers even in passing knew all about his giving nature – and the way he had your body sing made him seem plenty generous. But his lips, tasting every inch of bare skin and marking his claim, his hands gripping you so hard it bordered on painful, these were nothing short of greedy, as were his words.

“No one touches you. No one hurts you. I want you and I want to do unthinkable things to you, over and over, just so all you know is my name and I want you to say it, whisper it or scream it until you can’t anymore.”

“Steve, please-“

“This is why I want to do this and I want it so much it’s driving me insane. You drive me insane,” he accused you fondly, lips detached from your skin at last as he levelled his face with yours. “It feels impossible to hold back sometimes.”

Here was the frustration joke: you didn’t want him to hold back. You were left breathless, speechless, molten lava coursing through your veins and the sight of him, face flushed, pupils blown wide, his breaths coming out short only fed your unbearable hunger. You could almost feel him tremble against you and you knew it wasn’t from the strain of holding you up against the wall – it was from the effort not to snap.

How he wasn’t fucking you six ways into Sunday already and managed to keep composure after everything he just confessed to was beyond you. And he was still talking, a raspy warning that had the opposite effect than intended – because instead of wanting to put the fire out, you wanted to pour gasoline all over it.

“This is how I want you and how much I want you. But I must not scare you away, Sparkles. You’re too important. I need you to say yes, I need you to tell me you want this too and I need you to promise me to tell me to stop if I go too far.”

Oh you could tell him yes and make all the promises he wanted. As soon as you’d find your voice. As soon as you’d figure where the gasoline and matches were.

“I don’t scare easily, Steve,” you whispered, a sound so choked one would think you he already had you scream his name over and over.

Licking your lips, you willed your fingers to pet the soft material of his shirt as it strained over his shoulders, a minute tremble in them as you undid the first button. Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed, but he stood tall, endlessly patient. The self-control on the man. You couldn’t wait to push just a little more to see it burn to dust.

“And if I ever get afraid, I have you to protect me, don’t I?” you taunted, undoing the second button, then the third, leaning in to kiss the newly exposed skin, a faint taste of sweat on your tongue.

You barely bit back a smile as his chest expanded with a rapid inhale. You loved the effect you had on him, your words – however true – intentionally playing into the role of a protector you knew was important to him and made him preen.

“You’d never let anyone hurt me. I trust you.”

With the fourth button, you found yourself with not enough space to continue. That was fine. You kissed your way up his sternum over the hollow of his throat until you found his lips, parted, hot and eager to receive – a kiss, another compliment. You let your hands appreciate the expanse of his chest, his biceps, his broad shoulders; you weren’t sure if the moan came from you or him. Maybe both.

“I know you would never hurt me, not for a lack of strength… but you can use that strength too. I won’t break, unless it’s for you,” you promised, whispering straight to his lips, satisfied at the groan it drew from his throat. “I want you to do everything you want to do to me.”

“Sparkles…”

You withdrew as much as the wall behind you allowed, taking care to look directly in his dark eyes. You hoped you spoke with conviction – and enough of an innocent smile, even if on the inside, you were smirking.

“And I know I’m more to you than a piece of meat. You’re nothing like… them. You’re a good man, Steve, a smart man. My man… my Captain.”

The last one was a stretch, a bold guess based on loose observation; you held your breath in anticipation as three long seconds of silent stillness followed, your words sinking in.

But then, the effect was immediate.

Steve’s body slammed into yours with ferocity that knocked the wind out of you, a movement so fierce you were worried you might crash through the wall straight into the next room. His mouth slanted over yours with a beautiful animalistic sound, an unapologetic claim with no regard of giving before taking. A bruising grip on your thighs, a minute retreat of his hips just so he could rock them back against your drenched core, having you clench around nothing and wishing for a breath just so you could beg to have something in there instead.

Your futile attempt to speak up was cut off by a nip of teeth on your lower lip, Steve long fingers stretching over your ass to press mere inches from your lower lips and making you keen in relief and need.

“You just fucking love pushing my buttons, don’t you,” he grunted, his other hand sneaking under your blouse and squeezing your ribs on the side of your breast.

Not giving you a chance to confirm nor deny, he claimed dominance over your mouth again as soon as you breathed in.

The tips of his fingers were barely touching you where you craved him, but with every second you felt yourself climbing higher and higher, gasping when the pressure suddenly disappeared, a chuckle rambling in his chest pressing against your breasts.

“Oh no you don’t.”

His hands settled on your waist, firm, lips moving to your ear, nipping on your earlobe. “You know me so damn well, sweetheart. But guess what… if you think you can play me as you wish, think again.”

The sound you made couldn’t have been human, a frustrated whimper and a plea. Your whole body was on fire, melting like butter and sinking into his rich honey-like voice wrapping your senses in the delicious threat that followed.

“‘Cause I don’t know you nearly well enough so I’m gonna take my sweet time learning about every inch of your body and every little thing that makes you sing before I give you what you need.”

Your head spun with a rapid movement – around and backwards you thought – the support behind your back gone for a moment and then suddenly there was no support at all. You couldn’t fly for longer than a second but you yelped anyway, the sound drowned in the cushions of the bed you safely landed in.

“GG!”

Vice-like grips on your ankles and you were being pulled until your legs hung down the bed and a hot wet kiss was pressed under your belly button, blouse racked up to your rapidly rising and falling chest.

Holy fucking shit, you weren’t sure what the hottest part of this was – the show of strength, the safety you felt despite the insanity he just pulled off, or the fact he was literally kneeling between your legs and his dextrous fingers already undid the button and the fly of your jeans and were working their way up your ribcage, exploring just as eagerly as his mouth. Your back arched under his touch when his teeth grazed just under the hem of your bra, providing him with the perfect opportunity to undo the clasps and push the offending piece of clothing out of the way.

You felt like you were about to explode any second, but Steve, while eager, was in no rush. He was like a reverent believer finally discovering the temple of the only god he ever worshipped for the first time. The way his hand supported your shoulder blades as he nuzzled your breast, nosing his way over the sensitive skin and licking at the peeked nipple filled you with impatience, pride and affection at once.

You had a non-selfish lover before, but you had never experienced something more sensual than this. You had never had a man make love to your body. Steve treated it as a piece of art and under his touch, you felt like a damn masterpiece.

He didn’t have to ask you to get rid of what stood in his way, but he appreciated the newly exposed skin with a pleased hum despite the clumsy way you managed to strip your tops with; pressing a little harder, sucking the flesh of your breast with enough fervour to leave a mark.

The oh my god, Steve- left your lips as a whine. Your limp hands found purchase of his hair, pulling him up to steal a kiss from those sinful lips. He followed willingly, stretching his body over yours, catching himself on his hand – but your felt the brush of his rock-hard cock against your core anyway and your hips tilted up, searching for the much-needed friction.

He groaned into the filthy kiss, his uncompromising hand pushing your hip back into the cushions.

“Steeve-“

Screw taking his sweet time. You felt like crying from how he worshipped you but some of the suffocating sensation most definitely stemmed from the sheer frustration of not being fucked into the mattress relentlessly yet. You released his hair in order to work the buttons of his damn shirt, barely managing to undo them with your shaky fingers, sighing in bliss when you got to touch the hot skin of his abdomen you drooled over for almost two years now.

“I want you so damn much-“ he whispered to your lips before he freed you, mouth tracing a hot path down your throat and sternum, lower and lower, fingertips trailing behind as the desperate words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“Then take me.”

The loveable bastard smiled, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just above the hem of your jeans, nimble fingers slipping under the denim and finally ridding you of the atrocious piece of clothing you were sure must have been soaked through at this point too. Regretfully, his touch disappeared so he could strip the jeans fully but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make as long as it moved things forward.

Much like when he had helped you lose your shoes the day you were released form the med bay four weeks ago, his red-hot palm cradled your calf. Except this time, a kiss landed just above your knee, coaxing your legs apart with the lightest pressure, muttering into your skin as he torturously slowly made his way up.

“Loved you for so long, imagined having you in so many ways…” he groaned, almost pained, and you couldn’t but glance at him, all curses you ever known on your tongue but none on them making it out as you white-knuckled the sheets.

The sight of Steve between your spread legs was going to be the death of you. You couldn’t imagine a better way to go except maybe if he touched you where you needed him the most before you went.

“Anything-” you choked out. Everything. He was mere three inches from your dripping centre and you were ready to sell your soul to the Devil for him to just move.

You didn’t have any brain space left to be self-conscious about him inhaling the heady aroma of your sex, not when the burning gaze you had met settled on his prize with unabashed hunger.

“God, look at you, you’re dripping for me. Gonna love on you, Sparkles…”

“Yes, please-“

He chuckled, the huff of hot air teasing your core over the useless fabric of your underwear. “Look at you, you little tease, so polite all of sudden…”

You didn’t get as much as a second to call him a smug bastard; with one sharp tug, your panties were gone and the tip of his tongue dipped into your soaked lips. His moan vibrated through your whole body, echoing the cry of his name.

“Steve-”

“Fuck, sweetheart-“ was all he said before he dived in deep, pushing your legs further apart to accommodate his broad shoulders.

His nose bumped into your oversensitive clit, his tongue gathering your essence off your lips before pushing between them and making you back out from the sensual assault even as you didn’t know whether you wanted to escape or lean into it. The forearm suddenly laying over your hips prevented you from either and left you with no option but to take it – even if it should kill you.

So be it. You could make peace with such fate.

Grabbing after Steve’s hair, you reached the starry highs embarrassingly fast with no more than one finger in pressing just right and Steve’s lips sucking on your clit – and a sob vaguely resembling his name on your lips.

Your body shook with the aftershocks as your lover licked at every drop, easing the pressure on your belly to let you ride it out. Your ears were still ringing when the first of his whispers crept into your consciousness, a husky voice full of affection, pads of his thumbs drawing soothing circles above your hipbones.

“Beautiful, so beautiful… always so pretty when you fall apart for me.”

Your vision was blurry as you stared at the ceiling, panting, heart hammering as if you just fought off an army of mercenaries. Steve’s soft lips travelled up your body, leaving a sticky trail in their wake, lingering anywhere they deemed fit.

His messy hair appeared in your vision first, a kiss landing on your jaw. You still couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, coming down from the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced.

Until a delighted chuckle reached your ears, your gaze focusing on Steve’s dark gaze shining with thousand stars.

“Oh, is this a way to shut your smart mouth, Sparkles?”

Shut my brain, more like, you wanted to say, but the only thing you managed was a small grumble, a blissed-out sound too tiny to have him believe you were mad. As if you could ever be mad at him for that.

“GG-“

He chuckled again, leaning in to kiss your lips, gentle at first, until you moaned at the bittersweet tang of your own juices and his fingers tangled in your damp hair, his warm weight covering you like a blanket. You were surprised when you felt two hot tears roll down your temples into your hair – and you weren’t the only one.

Steve freed your lips with a wet pop, his flushed face full of concern.

“You good?”

You huffed a laugh, blinking frantically as to stop more tears from coming.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, it’s not that it was that bad it made me cry-” you teased him lightly, chest so full of feeling you were no longer surprised your body needed to release the pressure somehow. “But also don’t let it go into your head too much-“

Steve shut your smart mouth again, clearly reassured, his lips tasting of victory and pride this time. You couldn’t really hold it against him – he literally gave you an orgasm so good it made you cry.

And you still wanted more.

He already gave and now it was time to take, but he sure had made it feel like you weren’t the only one receiving when he was giving. It was sweet. It was empowering. It made you feel thoroughly loved, even if he was still being a little shit.

You grabbed the opportunity to finally appreciate his toned stomach, revelling in the sensation of his muscles shifting under your palms, one of your hands moving to give some attention to his pectorals too.

He liked that, if the small sound in the back of his throat and the breath of your name was anything to go by. It was the perfect prompt to explore further. And boy, you did.

His body was downright unreal. Yet never had anything felt so real as the warm humming power under your touch, smooth and slightly damp skin stretching over the delicious dips and valleys, rising with every inhale. You doubted you’d let you have your time with him now – he felt heavy and hard against your belly, so much it had to be painful, and his mouth kept your own busy enough – but soon, you’d trace the same lines your fingers were drawing on his chiselled torso with your tongue instead and then would move onto his biceps, grazing the prominent vein leading down his arm with your teeth.

The prospect fuelled your arousal, impatient hands sliding under the opened shirt into his sleeves, pushing at the fabric, whining upon feeling his bulging biceps. Those were the arms that held you against the wall. Those were the arms that tossed you around like you were nothing. Those were the arms that would rip apart anyone who’d try to hurt you.

“Get this damn thing off,” you cursed, for the first time realizing you were there lying completely naked and Steve had at least three pieces of unnecessary clothing still on.

He obliged with a hum, breaking your kiss as he balanced himself on his knees instead of his forearms. You took advantage of his momentary occupied hands and of the sudden space to take initiative, palming the prominent bulge straining the seams of his jeans. The most beautifully broken groan was your reward; you couldn’t wait to hear it again, making a quick work of unbuckling his belt before his infamous supersoldier reflexes could even kick in, his hands still tangled in his shirt. Once freed, he cradled your face and pressed your back to the bed with renewed eagerness.

You were fine with one hand on his bare skin and the other pushing his jeans down, all that while his tongue tangled with yours. You were still an agent; one feeling a little boneless after orgasmic high, but still a very efficient AI agent. You could multitask. If Steve overwhelmed all your senses, hot and throbbing in your hand, his cologne and the tang of sex and sweat filling your nostrils, his choked moan echoing in your ears once you freed him, you were more than able to process all that at once too.

In fact, the head of his cock nudging at your slit was the perfect cherry on top of it all the sensations and he seemed to agree. Until he realized it all felt all too good and retreated with a curse.

“Wait, love, I have to-“

You shook your head and pulled him back for another kiss. You were covered, so to speak and honestly you had no other protection at hand and the mere notion of stopping now was unthinkable. Honestly the fact he said I have to, taking the responsibility on himself, was the last touch to your decision.

“Pill. Clean. Please.” Just fill me.

His lust-filled eyes roamed your face for long seconds, whatever argument happening in his head cut off when you let your fingers curl around his length and pumped him, thumb stroking over the leaking head of his cock.

“Yeah, okay-- God- THAT.”

You grinned to yourself smugly, angling your hips for him to slide in. You were still so wet for him you knew it wouldn’t be an issue – even if his grith certainly would be a challenge and maybe you were going to regret your hastiness tomorrow… today.

Or not at all.

He went slow. Shallow languid thrusts, sweetened by deep kisses and praise spilling from his lips, giving way with a gently tightening knot in your belly instead of pain. Fingers interlaced with yours next to your head, drinking gasps and moans of pleasure from each other’s’ lips. A voiceless fuck give me a moment, you’re so tight, I can’t-, a glorious view of Steve’s face contorted in pleasure and reverence.

‘I love you’ whispered straight to your mouth once he settled all way in, filling you up to a point you thought you’d combust and thank him for it.

“Love you, GG. I didn’t mean to push you.”

You had no clue why you said that, but Steve didn’t give you a chance to panic, a breathy laugh shaking his chest, nose nudging yours. The image would be magnificent at any given time, but the circumstance gave the it an intimate aura of a secret thing shared between you two only.

“You only push my buttons all the time,” he hushed you, causing you to chuckle and whimper when he experimentally moved back and forth, clearly deeming you ready – and by lord, were you ready, every drag of his length nothing short of delicious, stoking the fire in your belly. “And please notice I participate pretty enthusiastically--- fuck, you feel so good, sweetheart.”

You noticed.

You appreciated the hell out of every ounce of self-control Steve had shown just a few minutes ago in order not to hurt you – but seeing the cracks in foundation opening and releasing the same man who pinned you to the wall was a hypnotic sight. His gentle touch morphing into grasps and squeezes, soft kisses and encouragement blending into claims and filthy praise. Arms having created a sense of safety wrapping around you tighter to keep you in place, fingers clutching at your hair not to hurt but to prevent you from escaping his advances. Flesh slapping flesh with every thrust, his pubic bone brushing your clit. The rubber band tightening in your belly threatening to snap with every word whispered gravely to your skin, to your mouth.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to be mine-”

“I am. Always yours,” you gasped, your voice cracking when his hand slipped under the small of your back, the change of angle making you stifle a moan, nails digging into his biceps.

“Damn right. Will keep you like this all night, take you over and over until you can’t think of anything else but my name and how it feels when I fill you up…”

As he rose to his knees, making you prop up on your heels, thighs shaky with exertion, you were more than grateful for his support; more so since your bones felt as if they have turned into molasses at this point.

“All night, every night. Every day, every fucking chance we get,” he promised feverishly.

The moan that spilled from your lips was obscene, but so were Steve’s words.

In a forgotten rational part of your brain, you understood what he had meant by scaring you off – thinking this would be too much. But damn, your lust-drunk mind had never heard a better idea in your life—this, this, you wanted more, you wanted everything he said. You needed him to break you just to put you together again, because you were his, his, his and you wanted him to claim you just like this, unapologetically, brushing the depths of you with every stroke, making you ache for him long before, during and long after--- you’d never get enough.

“Oh you want that?” he hummed with wicked glee as he felt you clench around him, fingers quick to gather your slick and circle your oversensitive bundle of nerves, rippling a mindless cry of please from your throat. “You really are mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes! Steve--- so close-”

“Yeah, I’m here, sweetheart. Give it to me.”

Never ceasing the attention to your clit or his frantic thrusts, Steve’s burning palm laid over your belly in a silent claim – and you were done for.

Chanting his name over and over as he rode it out with you, you almost missed the string of curses under his breath, his pace growing erratic, his hold on your turning bruising.

“Shit, doll, that’s it, that’s it--- fuck, look at you.”

Your walls fluttered around him again. Eyes snapping wide open, you caught him in a moment of utter bliss, crimson lips parted with a guttural moan of your name, messy hair sticking to his forehead, that unreal body having gone rigid as he spilled inside of you, nothing but small frantic motions of his hips as he prolonged his pleasure. With you. In you. You did that.

This was an image and feeling you’d remember forever – and planned to relive it many, many times to come.

A barely noticeable tremble to his muscles – you did that, the pleasure with you rendered a supersoldier boneless – he slowly, oh so slowly pulled out with a whimper on your part. You felt his seed spill down your sensitive lips as he lowered your almost limp body to the mattress, biting back another sound when the feeling sent a pleasant shudder up your spine.

Eyes fluttering open, Steve’s gaze trailed over your spent body before settling on your face, charming an exhausted but utterly satisfied smile for you. Stretching his warm body over yours, your hands instantly finding purchase of his broad shoulders, he graced you with a soft kiss to your lips, fingers carding through your hair. That was definitely a thing for him – and you couldn’t complain; you only catalogued it for a future reference, sighing contentedly into his mouth, appreciating the firm expanse of his back under your palms, the brush of rock-solid thighs against yours.

Your breath hitched when your brain registered another very solid part of his body, the small sound having Steve release your lips.

“Are you okay?” he fussed sweetly, your momentarily broken mind unable to appreciate the sentiment.

That’s not possible. That’s not how-

Your throat, already hoarse from crying Steve’s name repeatedly, turned sand-paper dry – or at least your choked voice sounded as if it did. You clenched your hand into fist to stop the urge to check what your mind had trouble to comprehend.

“GG, are you still…?“

Steve whole body radiated unnatural warmth more than usual already – but his face turned into a furnace as his forehead rested against yours, eyes closing.

“Serum. Not still… again,” he admitted reluctantly, having your racing heart skip a startled and giddy beat. Your body went stiff.

Oh. Okay. Right, right, right- That was fine. That realization didn’t feel like someone just rearranged your guts and had tingles run through your whole body. The prospect of this absolute god of a man ,who had got you off in ways all your past lovers combined could never, being able to do it all over again did not short-circuit all your rational thoughts. At all.

Steve most definitely misinterpreted your stunned silence as something else than positively horny.

“Just… give me a moment,” he muttered almost apologetically, loving lips pressing to your mouth, then your forehead. “I’ll get something to clean us up in a minute.”

Yeah, no.

Licking your lips, you feasted your eyes on Steve’s worn features, fingers sliding to down his hair to scratch soothingly at his nape. Bashful smile appeared on his lips, briefly brushing yours before he went to rise from the position on his elbows.

You were quick to wrap your leg around his gloriously pulp ass, his eyes snapping open in surprise.

“Stay a little longer?” you offered softly, heart racing against your ribcage as your plan to seduce him again slowly formed in your head. “If that’s okay… please?”

“I’m whipped, aren’t I,” he chuckled breathily, but obliged, earning a bright smile from you and kiss on his nose that made him laugh feebly, the lines of his abs and his hardness brushing against your stomach, enticing you to let your fingers wander.

Wander over the solid strings of muscle on his back, over his shoulders, that damn vein on his arm just calling out for you, over his ribcage expanding quicker and quicker with every passing second of your tender exploration.

“You’re a damn piece of art,” you whispered, biting back a moan when you reached the sinfully defined V-line, wrist accidentally skimming over his still very hard length.

A small shift of weight and Steve’s fingers locked firmly around your wrist, gentle warning written all over his face. You looked up at him, shuddering in excitement as you recognized he saw right through you. Yet, he didn’t protest when your free hand slid down his torso and you strained your neck to touch your lips where you could reach, to the sharp edge of his jaw.

“Sparkles…”

His chest rumbled with the single word, bringing a smile to your face as you used the hook you still had around his leg to push your hips up.

“Yes, love?”

His fingers tightened around your hand, his expression hardening – but you could see it. You could see the absolute glee behind his irises, the dark satisfaction at the fact he was not the only one insatiable. He wasn’t the only one who hadn’t had enough.

And some very, very primal part of his brain roared upon the realization. Conveniently precisely the part you wanted to unleash now that you had got a very thorough taste what Steve was like in bed. If he wanted to keep you there for the rest of your days, you were absolutely on board.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” he warned, having you licked your lips at the perfect opening for teasing.

“I don’t know, looks like it’s not me who needs to finish… something.”

The deliberately slow drag of your gaze down his body to the very evidence you were referring to was the last straw – or maybe it was the way your fingers stretched to touch the smooth skin of his cock again.

You didn’t even know how you ended up with both your hands pinned next to your head, but suddenly they were there. No pain in the movement – Steve was careful with that still, his thumbs even petting the insides of your wrists – but the glint in his eye was nothing short of dangerous. And it had your sensitive walls flutter around nothing, craving him filling you up again already.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it feels exactly like that,” you poked, chin pushed up defiantly, “Captain oh mine.”

The flash in his eyes spoke volumes.

Oh, you had done it now. And you loved it. But the reason why you could afford that, that you loved even more. The way Steve’s searching gaze roamed your face, checking, even if briefly, for any sign of discomfort and only then allowing himself to let loose, appealed more than anything to the last remnants of reason slipping from you. You had no doubt he would ruin your body in the best way; but you trusted him to rebuild it all the same. Playing with fire had never been so safe.

“Hm…” Steve pretended to muse, lips descending to yours, tenderly kissing your lower lip, before his teeth sunk into it and tugged at it, having your breath hitch. “Well, sweetheart, you know that sometimes I do rise to a challenge.”

One of your wrists released, your breathing quickened as Steve’s palm dragged down your side, cupping your ass, fingers dipping into between your tender lower lips again.

“We’ll see who’s gonna need what when I have one of my favourite fantasies played out right in front of me.”

Euphoria exploded behind your eyelids already as two of his fingers scooped his spent and entered you, slowly massaging your most sensitive spot before he scissored them.

“What’s that?” you humoured him, rocking your hips into his generous touch, a soundless oh god escaping you when his thumb flickered over your puffy bundle of nerves.

His mouth slanted over yours in a promise of pleasure, muffling your noise of protest when his thick fingers left you empty again, the smile forming against your previously preoccupied lips menacing.

“You writhing under me, senseless with need, desperate for what only I can give you… which I will… if you ask nicely enough.”

Three fingers slid into you with ease this time, making you cry out as the heel of Steve’s palm pushed against your clit. It was a touch of paradise, a surge of ecstasy to your veins – but you understood now that to truly seize it, you’d have to work and wait and plead. The premise had you trembling with need already.

“And you will, sweetheart. You will.”

Steve Rogers was a man of his word. Stubborn and determined, he delivered on his promise to the last detail. Pushing you right to the edge, only to stop and have you straddle him, have you work for it only to still your hips and steal your breathy cry, a taunting smile against your lips, his long fingers wrapped around wrist whenever you tried to cheat and touch yourself.

“Anything you need from me, love?” whispered to your mouth, the crack in his voice the only indication he wasn’t all that composed as he wanted you to believe. “I’d love to help. I’d love to see you come undone… you want that too?”

“Was that… a please? I didn’t quite catch that, you know I’m of age…”

A shaky delighted laugh at your pathetic ‘fuck you’ turning into a whimper when you found yourself on your belly all of sudden, fingertips teasing your inner thighs, brushing your lower lips, heady kisses with a devious smile coaxing another plea from you as his weight over you reminded you of how much of an upper hand he had.

The ‘good girl’ sounding a little choked, a testimony of how no matter how delirious he had driven you with pleasure, this was his fantasy played out with in front of his eyes. The ‘I’ll give you anything you ask, Sparkles. Everything. Always.’, fingers interlaced with yours when he finally gave you what you begged for, a reminder that despite the mischief and the indulgent dominance, you were utterly loved.

Broken and rebuilt all at once, exhausted to the point of barely keeping conscious when Steve kissed your shoulder, covering you with the warmth of his body, gently angling your head and whispering to your lips how he loved you, how good you were for him, to him, as if you had just made a terrible sacrifice. Tenderly cleaning you up where you had been joint, a fresh trail of kisses up your spine, bringing a faint smile to your face.

“I’ll be right back. Can I bring you anything, love?”

You only grumbled, genuinely too tired to move anything, even your mouth. Steve’s soft laugh was but an echo. You didn’t want to know what time it was – too sated to really care.

“Water and jelly beans maybe?”

You forced to corner of your lips rise higher, willing your voice to form at least a murmur.

“You did not pack jelly beans into your overnight bag,” you hummed.

At Steve’s chuckle and something landing a foot from your face, you cracked an eye open. A goofy smile spread on your lips, even as snacking was the last thing on your mind. This man. You spied a bottle of water in his hand when he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching to push damp strand of hair from your face.

“You’re perfect,” you murmured, gazing up at him with tired fondness, which he wholeheartedly reciprocated. “I’m keeping you.”

His smile turned brighter than the sun, making you close your eyes.

“Yeah? I’d like that,” he said lowly, fingers carding through your hair lovingly, before stroking your cheek. “Come on, Sparkles, gotta get some water into you at least.”

With a huff, you opened your eyes again, trying to regain control of your heavy limbs. He was right, but leaving the soft mattress, more so when you had Steve was right there, didn’t sound appealing.

Brows furrowing, guilt peeking from under his content smile, Steve helped you sit up, cradling your head to his shoulder.

“I’m s-“

Your palm landed on his bare chest with a small smacking sound.

“Don’t you dare, keeper.”

He kissed the top of your head, letting you feel his smile again when you nuzzled into him – comfort, warmth and familiarity.

“Come on, Sparkles. Water, teeth and then sleep,” he negotiated, setting an example as he downed half the bottle, never easing his support to your body. A part of you wanted to complain it was easy for him to say with his serum-boosted stamina, but for one, you didn’t want to be a cry baby, second, you were too blissed out to even think to voice any complaint and third, how could you grumble when your GG was once again so effortlessly nurturing?

He dutifully supported your weight when he seated you on the bathtub to brush your teeth, carried you back to bed, settled you against his chest when you laid down and gave into the exhaustion before you managed to wish him goodnight and he didn’t say a single word of complaint – though maybe he snickered a bit once or twice. Fondly.

Tipping over the edge of consciousness, you thought you felt a kiss on your forehead, a gentle whisper covering you warmly just as you were slipping under.

“I’m keeping you too.”

Steve Rogers masterlist // Love on The Brain masterlist

I’m imagining Sparkles’ phone ringing in the morning to get ready for their brunch with JJ, Will and the kids and Reid - Steve reluctantly picking up instead, when she sleeps like dead. I see him apologizing, claiming you had trouble sleeping. JJ muttering ‘you go girl’ under her breath, but responding with a motherly wannabe worried voice, offering to make it a lunch instead, and self-highfiving the second she ends the call😅 Steve being too content to worry about it and snuggling back to Sparkles 💕

ANYWAY. Thank you for reading and for your feedback!

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #former bau agent reader #agent reader #steve rogers fluff #criminal minds x mcu #mcu x criminal minds #love on the brain #no pressure #anika ann

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ivysenpai3 · 2 months

Text

Bonten x Fem! Pimp! Reader.

Different

Pt 2

Chapter 1

L/N Y/N rode through the city of Tokyo late at night in her black BMW X6, driving to one of the clubs which Bonten owns in order to count her profits, for her girls worked at a couple of the clubs which was own by Bonten.

Tonight's chosen location was called 'The Glasshouse'. When she arrived, music was blasting as well as the flashing lights. She sighed deeply, her distaste for loud places evident, even though she regularly went to such places due to her job. She went in and dove through the large crowd, trailing up the stairs and arriving in front of the private room for only Bonten members. The guards in front of the room looked at her, assuming she was one of the whores who worked there, but there confusion grew when they noticed her dressing. Her large, pompous fur coat hanging over she shoulders, her black suit fitting her perfectly, her (Your hair length) (Your hair color) flowing freely. But none the less, the guards let her proceed.

When she entered the room, everyone turned their eyes towards her, the Bonten members as well as the girls they were with. Aside from Kakucho and Kokonoi, no one else knew that Y/N worked hand in hand with Bonten, so the rest thought she was just a common whore and they were perplexed why she dressed in a way that showed no skin at all. Ran was the first to approach her.

"Are you lost, angel?" He asked her "If you're gonna be a slut, you gotta dress the part, darling"

Y/N looked at him in disgust, her nose scrunching up before walking past him and going towards Kakucho and Kokonoi. She was stopped by Sanzu who pointed a gun at her head.

"I don't see the reason why a common whore should act all high and mighty. Who the fuck do you think you are?" Sanzu said with a slight crazed glint in his eyes "Should I blow your brains out right now?"

"Stop that, Sanzu. Put the gun down, she's a business partner, the girls who work in some of our clubs are hers" Kakucho said.

The eyes of the girls in the room widened, finally remembering who she was and they shivered with fear. Y/N looked at all of them "I thought I told all of you how to greet me?" She asked.

The girls immediately got off the couches and got on their knees, their heads touching the floor and their pupils dilated in fear. "Sumimase!!!" They all yelled, shocking the Bonten members except Koko and Kaku.

"Leave. All of you" she said.

"Hai!" All the girls yelled and got of their knees and rushed out the door.

Y/N sighed as she sat beside Koko. "It's been a while since you last came here" Koko said. "I got bored, so I decided to see how much I had made." Y/N replied, crossing her legs and leaning her head back on the leather couch with her arms hanging out either side.

"Everyone, this is L/N Y/N. Like I said earlier, she works hand in hand in Bonten, her girls work in at least 70% of our clubs" Kakucho formally introduced her then turned to face her "I assume you know each and everyone of us already" he added and Y/N briefly nodded.

Before they could go any further, another of Y/N's girls barged in, her eyes filled with tears. Some guys called her ugly and some other harsh words that messed with her self-esteem. She ran in front of Y/N and explained the situation. Y/N held her hand and took her in front of a full length mirror then stood behind her.

"You know what I see?" Y/N asked

"What?"

"I see a strong, confident, beautiful young lady"

"Really?"

"Oh look, you're here too" Y/N laughed loudly, her words made the girl burst into a fit of tears. Y/N's grip on her the girl's shoulders tightened. "Cut the bullshit, this is what you're fucking paid for, so suck it the fuck up and go back out there and do your fucking job" Y/N said with the best smile she could fake and pushed the girl out of the room. She sighed and turned around, going back to sit beside Koko. She looked up and said "Now, shall we proceed?". Every single one of them were impressed with her straightforwardness, going straight to the point and not wanting to waste a single second.

As the night went on, Y/N remained in the Bonten's private room, counting how much she had made so far after not being present for a month. Even when she was done, she decided to stay because other than Koko and Kaku, she hadn't personally met any other executives of Bonten. In the middle of her stay, a call came in. She looked at the caller ID and sighed when she saw who it was. She answered and put the phone against her ear, "What is it, Slickback?" she asked, a hint of boredom could be noted in her tone.

Slickback was her 'co-worker' who was in charge of her business back in America. They worked together for almost 2 years.

"Cristal's dead." Slickback replied

"The fuck do you mean 'dead'? Cut the bullshit, she was the fucking best we had. What happened to her?"

"Murdered by a client. We found her body in a hotel room."

"Murdered? Ugh... Not this again, I'm tired of replacing these girls."

"What should we do with her body?"

"What we always do with the bodies of the others. Take it to a butcher, or do it yourself, chop it up and dump it in the lake, or the ocean. Preferably the ocean since that's deeper."

As Y/N said this, the Bonten executives all looked at her in shock, not believing the words they just heard. Y/N noticed their gaze, but didn't think much of it and turned her attention back to Slickback.

"Look, I'll call Kel and tell him to get a replacement that looks exactly like Cristal. Do not let anyone know about this, not her family, not her friends, no one. Got it?" She said.

"Got it. How long is that gonna take?" Slickback asked

"Probably like a week or two, he needs to find the right one with even the slightest similar features as Cristal, and needs to modify everything else. I'll give him a call. Alright?"

"Alright"

At that she hung up and sighed again, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger "Dumbass Slickback, can't do shit right"

She stood up and started walking out, getting tired already.

Ran was the first to stop her, immediately realizing that they might not see her again for quite a while and they most definitely cannot let an exquisite character like hers just disappear into thin air.

"Hey, wait." He called out, causing Y/N to turn around "Hm?"

"Can I have your number?"

The rest of the executives deadpanned at his request.

"Sure" Y/N replied, throwing her business card at him then finally walking away, leaving the executives, particularly the trio, to stare at her gold card in awe.

Taglist

@kokonoiscoconut @sirachano0dles @otaku-4-the-win

#tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers #bonten x y/n #sano mikey manjiro #haitani rindou #pimpways #ivysenpai💅#different series

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justimajin · 6 months

Text

The Profit & Love Statement » Pt. 21

↠ Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

↠ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ 4.5k / CEO AU

↠ Summary: Through hours of endless training and hard work, Kim Seokjin is finally the CEO of Kim Electronics. He has everything at his hands - status, money, power. He owes it all to you, his rigid and sarcastic mentor who overseed his entire training. But as he steps into the shoes of becoming the CEO, he can only wonder what it means for your relationship now.

↠ A/N: If anyone would like to see the clip referenced in this chapter for research purposes, here it is.

↠ Next Update: Tuesday, November 21 (series masterpost here)

Jin is hunched over, features screwed shut.

You’re currently inside his office, keeping a hand on his back and watching as he curls up in pain.

A huff leaves you. “I told you not to overdo it.”

“And I told you I had to!” He protests – only to immediately regret it and deeply wince.

A defeated sigh leaves his lips. “I just wonder how long I’ll be like this.”

“By the looks of it, a good week.” You retort, “Why didn’t you just take the day off?”

“I’m the CEO…” He mumbles, opting to plant his face against his desk.

You let out a long drawn-out sigh. In this case, the single person responsible for his dilemma was simply himself.

Planting a hand against your hip and cocking up a brown, you’re extremely blunt with him.

“Well, this is what you get for karaoking so hard.”

Jin glances at you, a pout on his lips from your choice of wording. But you don’t budge, knowing exactly how this all conspired.

The whole concept of the evening came from one person.

“Karaoke?”

“We should go!” Jungkook exclaims, speaking with you as he makes his coffee. “I already asked everybody.”

“I don’t know,” You bite your bottom lip, “I’ve never done it before…”

“It’ll be fun,” He insists, slipping a card out from his suit’s pocket. You peer at it, noticing the words ‘brand new location’ at the top, which happened only a street away from your workplace. “Bring Seokjin along too.”

You snort, “Are you sure the two of you won’t start fighting?”

“No promises.” He says with a sly smile.

You had decided to bring it up to Jin after work – who to your surprise is extremely onboard with the whole idea. He surprises you even more by mentioning that he actually loves doing karaoke and that he even dragged Namjoon down with him one time, to which you could ask him just how talented he is at it.

Ultimately making the decision to go, you’re not quite sure what exactly to expect when you open the door to your assigned room.

Your irises round at the pure chaos.

The very first thing you notice is how cramped the room is, an abundance of both snacks and alcoholic drinks littering the humongous table in front of the karaoke machine. The second thing would be where all your friends are situated – Hoseok and Taehyung are loudly cheering next to the machine as Jimin sits on the bench sheepishly with Yoongi, slowly clapping his hands as the latter holds an amused smile with crossed arms.

The last thing you notice is Jungkook holding one of the mics in his hand, abruptly switching from singing softly to straight up rapping, leaving you astounded.

Behind you, Jin glances around with a huge smile and you slip in next to Yoongi on the bench.

“Having fun, I assume?” You shout a bit loudly over Jungkook’s vocals.

He grins, appearing to have had a drink or two. “You came at the best part.”

Jimin shuffles closer to Yoongi, making eye contact with you. “Jungkook’s pretty good, Y/N!”

You hum in agreement, watching him continue to rap as Hoseok takes the other mic, hyping him up with background sounds. Taehyung reaches over, smiling as he offers you some fries they had previously ordered, something that you gladly take.

Your eyes widen when Jin slips off his suit jacket, tucking it next to you.

“You’re going?”

He cheekily winks. “Of course, I have to show you how talented I am.”

After a couple more lines, the song ends and everyone claps for Jungkook. He wipes some sweat away from his temples and Jin leans over to Hoseok, presumably asking him for the second mic.

Jin smirks, rolling up his sleeves. “I bet I can rap better than you.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jungkook inquires.

Your gaze nervously darts between the two of them, already seeing the brewing tension. However, you fail to acknowledge the playful look in Jin’s eyes as the music begins and Loner by Outsider starts to play.

Your mouth draws wide open when Jin starts rapping.

You’re not the only one with the stunned reaction, the friends surrounding you are all instantly struck with awe with how effortlessly he raps – even Jungkook, who quickly pitches in with hyping him up.

At one point, you, Jimin and Yoongi start bobbing your heads to the beat, fascinated with his good flow. Hoseok chuckles when he skips over some words, but still claps for him nonetheless as he continues.

But then you’re leaning against Yoongi, attempting to stifle your laughter when he starts sounding angry, almost like he was reprimanding someone instead of karaoking.

After speeding through the words but still managing to stay on beat, he draws towards the end of the song and Hoseok quickly encourages him to drop the mic, to which he does.

Everyone practically roars with a cheer, loud enough to alert nearby rooms.

Jin appears absolutely exhausted, but gets tackled by Hoseok and Jungkook, who are still cheering for him. Even Yoongi shouts, clapping his hands with a proud smile.

He stumbles over to you, grabbing a drink from the table. Your eyes are glued to him, still staring in awe.

“I didn’t know you could do that!” You exclaim over the song Taehyung begins to sing.

“Do what? Rap like a genius?” He quirks up a brow, clearly amused from your reaction.

“Well, yeah!” You profess, “You were amazing!”

He grins, leaning down and pecking you on the cheek. “Just wait till you hear me sing.”

Putting his drink down, he heads over to Jungkook for the mic. The latter looks up at him with bright eyes, whispering something along the lines of ‘we need to do a song together!’ to which Jin fondly nods at.

A warm smile stretches on your lips.

***

Jin wasn’t lying. At all.

After Taehyung finishes his song, he takes the microphone and puts on a balled, before handing Jungkook the second mic.

The soft music plays and you are thoroughly shocked for the second time of the day.

His voice is both beautiful and melodious, akin to being angelic. Jungkook joins him after one line, harmonizing effortlessly and their voices mix together, resonating throughout the room.

As Taehyung hugs Jimin who giggles at the action, Hoseok raises his drink and sways side and side while Yoongi hums along, a small smile on his lips.

You are left with simple staring – being impressed once again by him. It’s something he practically thrives on, darting his gaze over at you consistently and fishing for compliments, which you gladly give to him.

The rest of the night flashes by – more songs being added to the queue and empty cartons and bottles scattered all over the table. Everyone ends up being either drunk out of their mind or utterly exhausted with the strain on their vocal cords.

You were forced to wrench off Jin from the karaoke machine once the clock struck midnight, but he had continued to sing, running high on energy as he bounced up and down. Hoseok ended up helping you, turning off the machine as you grabbed Jin’s hand and brought him outside with everyone else.

Which segways into your current dilemma – aka Jin managed to karaoke to the point where his back gave out.

“I’ll need to leave.” You inform Soyou, eyes downcasted. “I have... bit of an emergency.”

“Of course, Y/N.” She immediately responds, “Please keep me posted about it.”

You nod, thoughts running astray.

About my boyfriend’s karaoke condition? Of course.

Turning to head towards your cubicle, Yoongi peeks out from his side.

“Is he alright?”

“Not really.” You mutter, “He’s been in pain all day and refused to call in sick, so I forced him to take the rest of the day off.” Taking your bag, you sling it against your shoulder, “I’m leaving too, he needs someone to look after him.”

“Well, he did put on quite the show yesterday.” He points out, voice soft. “I hope he gets better soon.”

The corners of your mouth lift, and you leave, waving at Yoongi as you do. Heading down on the elevator, you find Jin at the front, still hunched over against the wall and waiting for your arrival.

To your shock, he’s with someone else.

“Your back is giving out?” The man throws his head back, laughing loudly.

Jin scoffs, “How come you’re fine and I’m not?!”

“Because you’re old and I’m still youthful, of course.”

“Yah!”

Jungkook childishly snickers and you’re stunned to see Jin begin to protest more against him.

“Jungkook?” You question, watching him whirl around with crossed arms. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” He gestures to Jin, “Someone had to make sure our lovely Ahjussi made it to the elevator.”

Jin’s eyes are boiling in rage and you’re speechless as Jungkook grins, like he knows he’s said something to tick off Jin.

“How dare you call me that?!”

“That’s what you get for being old!” He calls out. “I’ll leave him in your care, Y/N.”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Get back to work already.”

His eyes crinkle and he spins on heels, lightly jogging back.

Leaning down, you take one of Jin’s arms and place it around your neck, letting half of his weight rest on you.

“I didn’t know the two of you were so close.” You sing-song, walking outside with him. Rummaging through your pockets, you locate your phone and call for a cab.

“He’s such a brat.” He remarks, “But I suppose he’s not so bad...”

You chuckle, setting your phone down.

“Says the person that was jealous of him.”

“Hey, that was before I got to know him!” He protests.

You let out a sigh, recognizing and waving the cab driver closer. He stops right in front of the two of you by the curb, and you help Jin inside the car.

“So sorry.” You smile cheekily in his direction. “You’re right, I won’t say anything else about your new best friend.”

A deep pout mars his lips and you giggle, slipping into the car with him.

“You need to stop moving around!”

Jin grimaces, features twisted up. He keeps shifting around, attempting to stagger forward towards your apartment on his own.

A pained huff leaves him, “How else am I supposed to walk then?!”

“I told you already, just lean against me.” You chide, attempting to support his weight. He walks rather lop-sidedly, another wince running through him.

You finally arrive at your door and jam your keys in, turning the lock.

Entering inside, you let the door close behind you and trudge towards your couch, to which Jin plops down on quite dramatically.

You let out a huge exhale of relief, spinning on your heels into the direction of your bedroom. A quick glance at the clock tells you it’s still early in the afternoon and that Yuna wouldn’t be home anytime soon, still being at school.

Returning to your living room, you emerge with a blanket and toss it onto Jin.

“Don’t get up.” You state.

He recoils on the couch with a laugh, “I wasn’t planning to.”

Lightly shaking your head at that, you swiftly pace over to your kitchen and place a heating pad in the microwave. After a couple of minutes pass by, you take it out.

Stepping back over to the couch, you help Jin into a seating position and assist with tugging off the suit jacket he adorns from his broad shoulders.

“Ow.” He loudly winces when you pull too hard on one arm, and you remorsefully grimace.

“Sorry.”

You manage to yank the article of clothing off, much to Jin’s protests. He lies right down on the heating pad you give him, with it positioned underneath his back. You unfold the blanket you had given him earlier, covering him entirely.

“I think that should be okay for now.” You huff, glancing in his direction. “Are you comfortable, Jin?”

Instead of his voice, silence greets you back. Curiously, you get up and peer over at his face, only to see his eyes fluttered shut and small snores already beginning to leave him.

You softly smile, taking that as his response.

***

A deep breath leaves your lungs.

Your eyes are squeezing shut as your heart races in your chest, fingers trembling.

Opening them up, you let the feeble confidence take over.

You take a step into your kitchen.

The plan was simple – Jin had been dozing off on your couch for a couple of hours. In that time, you had gone to the grocery store and picked up a handful of ingredients, arrived back home and checked on him, and then proceeded to change out of your work clothes and into your pajamas.

Jin hasn’t said anything to you yet, but the tension in movements and the fatigue radiating from his eyes are enough to tell you how well work has been going for him. Coupling that with the spiking pain he’s now having to deal with and the deep slumber he’s plunged in, you made the assumption that he would awaken around when it was time for dinner.

To put it in short and simple words, your plan is to essentially make your boyfriend a nice home cooked meal the moment he wakes up.

Sucking in a harsh inhale, you take out the chicken, broth and rice, hoping to make something that is both filing and delicious.

You first begin to preheat the oven for the chicken, before proceeding with taking out two pans. In one, you heat the broth to make soup and in the second, you put the rice into a pot of oil. After that, you douse the chicken with layers of oil and salt, to then begin cutting giant chunks of vegetables for the soup.

You pause for a moment – heavily considering if perhaps consulting a recipe would be the best in this type of situation.

You wave the thought off, firmly believing that your hard work will be enough.

Sweat gathers at your temples as you focus on cutting pieces from the veggies, dunking them straight into the boiling soup. The oiled and generously salted chicken goes into the oven as the rice soaks up all the oil in an instant.

Two hours pass by like seconds. There’s a giant soup filled with broth and floating with humongous vegetables, and chicken that’s simultaneously flaky but oily. It’s accompanied with crispy rice, something you’re especially proud of.

It’s not long before Jin stirs.

“Hey,” You softly call out from the kitchen, “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He blinks his sleepy eyes, grasping onto his shoulder. “I still feel the pain, but it’s less intense.”

“That’s good.” Your eyes avert, landing on the meal displayed on the kitchen counter. “Say, do you have a minute?”

He grins, “I always have time for you.”

You recoil at the mushy statement. “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little.”

“You know the normal response is to call something like that romantic, right?” He stands up from the couch and you hurriedly rush over to him, resting your hand on his arm.

“Don’t strain yourself.”

“I’m not, don’t worry.” He chides, eyes landing right on your display. “What’s all this?”

“I…um, cooked for you.” At his inspecting gaze, you look the other way.

“Wait, what?” He looks touched, voice dropping into a whisper. “You cooked for me?”

You shyly nod, feeling squeamish underneath all the attention. His eager eyes are sweeping all over it, as if trying to memorize the food before him.

He takes a pair of chopsticks right away, digging in.

Your irises are large, attached to his words and surveying every hint of emotion that arises in his expression.

He chokes.

You simply watch as he abruptly bursts out into a chain of coughs, before he’s pounding a hand against his chest, as if forcibly trying to keep the food down.

Once he swallows, you blink.

“W-Wow, it has such…unique flavor…”

His tone is too sweet, unlike his regular humorous one.

You deeply sigh, all too familiar with this type of reaction.

"Is it bad?" You quietly ask.

"N-No, of course not!" He accidentally coughs again, clamping a hand against his mouth.

“Jin…” You sincerely whisper, reaching out and holding onto his other hand, "I'd rather you tell me the truth instead of just letting me poison you."

There’s something that flickers in his expression – the realization dawning that you’ve caught on and he can no longer bluff.

He remorsely looks at you.

"So…I can be completely honest?"

"Yes.” You state, encouraging him.

He sucks in a deep breath, and the Jin you’re very familiar with emerges.

"It's horrible.” He states, before a cord finally snaps and he’s unloading everything, “Like really horrible. It tastes like the rice’s been deep fried and the chicken’s been covered with oil and way too much salt. The soup is also so bland, like it barely has flavor–"

"Hold up!" You snap, "Can’t you be a little nice in giving criticism?! I’m not going to just improve overnight!”

He nods, voice dipping into an overly sweet tone, but somehow the deeply rooted sarcastic bits don’t go unnoticed by you.

"Alright, so rice isn't supposed to be crispy and the chicken doesn't need to be salted so much. It also doesn’t need to be cooked for that long so next time, make sure to set a timer. The soup needs more salt and pepper in it, but don't go crazy with it, okay?"

A pout lines your lips, his words actually being kinder and quite informative. “Okay…”

“Good,” He kisses your cheek, hand already lifting the dish. “Now let me handle this.”

“Wait, no!” You spin around, tugging on his shirt. “Jin, I wanted to do this for you. I just can’t have you cooking again, I–”

You grimace, acknowledging that you would just have to profess your shortcomings and simply ask.

“I-I want to learn.”

He raises a brow at that, and you can see it all unfold.

There’s a huge smug smile on his lips. Almost as if he’s aware of the skills he has.

“If you want to learn,” He taunts, crossing his arms and arching up a brow. “You have to say the following – ‘Kim Seokjin is the best cook in the world.’”

“Are you serious?” You snap, “How childish are you?”

He turns around, beginning to clean up the counter and sweeping the dish away. Your hands shoot out immediately, grasping his wrist.

“W-Wait!” You deeply exhale, willing every fibre in your body to not roll your eyes.

Sarcasm weaves in as you repeat his words. “Kim Seokjin… is the best cook in the world.”

Your voice quiets down in the end and Jin leans in.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Jin!” You whine, and he laughs loudly, squeakiness echoing through the kitchen.

“Okay, I’ll teach you.” He announces. “But listen to me carefully.”

You eagerly nod.

Jin crosses his arms, a heavy gaze to his eyes and a scowl lining his lips.

“You need to measure it out first, Y/N.”

“Measure out the salt and pepper?” You spin around, bewildered by his instructions, “I just dumped it in.”

An annoyed ‘tsk’ leaves him. He scans the contents of the broth, before grabbing a spoon and tasting it.

He cringes.

“Now it’s way too salty.” He offers the spoon to you and your reaction is the same.

A deep exhale leaves you. “I’ll just start over.”

“You don’t need to start over.” He grabs some pepper and a glass of water, “You just need to correct the overseasoning.”

You observe as he pours water and seasons it with pepper, stirring it carefully as it boils. Lowering the heat, he dips the spoon into the mixture and brings it up for you to taste.

You’re stunned. It’s not per say incredible, but it tastes so much better than before.

“Your measurements have to be precise, and that includes your timing too.” He preheats the oven, showcasing the time he was setting it up on, “I think you heated it properly, but you left it in for too long.”

You hum and he moves, filtering around the kitchen as if it was his own.

He brings over a board, knife and vegetables. “We also need to seriously work on your chopping skills.”

Taking up the challenge, you grab an onion and start obliterating the vegetable.

“Woah, woah, hold on!” Jin takes the knife away from you in an instant. He brings it to the board, slowly cutting the vegetable and coming into a natural rhythm with it.

He catches your gaze. “See? Gently. No need to murder the poor onion.”

You scoff as he pauses and hands the knife back.

You attempt to mimic his actions, but he nearly shrieks when a slice of onion goes shooting out and your knife slides against the board.

He latches onto your hand, whispering underneath his breath. “And here I thought no one could be worse than Namjoon…”

You swivel, “What?”

“Nothing!” He sings-songs, chuckling in a high tone. Deciding to come up behind you, Jin’s hands gently reach over to envelope your own shaky ones.

He proceeds to swiftly cut the onion, following a rhythmic motion.

Much to your complete surprise, you’re actually able to cut a few decent chunks. “I-I can’t believe it…”

“It just takes time and practice, Y/N.” Jin smiles, stepping back and letting you continue. He spins around, checking in on the chicken inside the oven.

However, a painful sting abruptly emerges, and you’re forced to set the knife aside.

“Ah–” You rub your eyes, regret filling you in an instant when it burns even more. “Oh my god.”

Jin turns around with a frown at your words, only to see thick tears streaming down your eyes.

He hurriedly abandons the chicken, grabbing onto your hands, “What happened?” His gaze darts all over the cutting board and then back to inspecting your hands, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I just–” You squeeze your eyes tightly, “I-I think it’s something in the air.”

Puzzlement crosses him at that, but then his field of vision lands onto the cut up onion and suddenly everything makes sense.

“Hold on–” He brings you closer to the sink and turns on the faucet. Reaching over, he helps to splash water onto your eyes until the burn finally begins to subside.

The coolness of the water lets you see again, and you blink in disbelief towards him.

“What was that?”

He smiles lop-sidley, “It's what happens when you cut a lot of onion. You have to be careful about them stinging your eyes.”

You’re flabbergasted at the notion. Not only did you not know crucial information about the blasted vegetable, you hadn’t even cut them properly enough to notice.

It all boils up, the tension merely amplifying your frustrations towards cooking.

“This is so hard!” You proclaim, planting a hand against your temples, “How am I supposed to know all this when I’ve never done it before?”

You huff and Jin leans back, attempting to hold back the amused smile on his lips. He doesn’t do a great job though, and you’re glancing at him perplexed from the reason, but then it dawns on you–

He’s smiling like the once very annoying intern he was.

“It’s okay.” He tenderly pats your back, a presumptuous grin on his features. “I still think you can do it.”

You loudly scoff as he snickers.

***

The hours churn by easily and with Jin’s much needed assistance, you are successfully able to cook the chicken and create a broth that doesn’t want to make your insides recoil. He ends up cooking the rice, deep distrust running through him when you genuinely thought cooking it in oil was the right way to go. However, you observed the way he carefully shimmers it in water until it’s completely soft.

There’s an entire meal presented in front of you and he flops down onto a chair near the kitchen counter, long overdue for his back to act up again.

“Wow.”

You whisper, staring at it all in amazement.

Glancing over, Jin grimaces a bit and you smile gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I still mean what I said before, you know?” You sway side to side sheepishly, “Cooking isn’t easy, but it’s a good skill to have.”

Jin softly grins at that and you curiously take a bite, eyes widening.

“It tastes so much better!”

“See what happens when you don’t drown stuff in salt and oil?” He teases and you chuckle, “Now next time, make me something like this instead of trying to kill me.”

“I was not trying to kill you.”

“Are you so sure about that?” He glances at the previous dish, the crispy rice meeting his gaze.

He raises a brow and you stare at him silently – before the two of you are bursting out in laughter.

The door to your apartment widens.

Yuna stands by it, throwing intrigued glances at the sounds resonating from the kitchen. She walks in to see you standing by the counter with Jin seated on a chair facing you, alongside the entire buffet displayed on the counter.

At the sound of her footsteps, you swivel. “Yuna!”

You embrace her and she looks around, “What happened here?”

“I cooked!” A shudder runs through her spine immediately, and you quickly try to ease her thoughts, “It wasn’t just me though, Jin helped too!”

Curiosity runs through her at that and you spin around, filling up a plate for her. Yuna sets her bag down, sitting on a chair next to Jin.

“How was school?” He questions, her eyes brightening up.

“It was fun, we’re working on our next play now.”

“I look forward to seeing it.” He grins, and she smiles back at him. There’s a plate of food landing in front of her, and she pokes her fork at it in wonder.

You tightly grasp onto Jin’s hand, breath hitching as you watch her raise the spoon to her lips. As she slowly chews, your heartbeat seems to grow louder and louder.

A deep frown crosses her features – making you tense, but then it’s replaced with utter confusion, and she stares back at the plate you’ve given her.

It’s when she goes for another bite that you freeze.

“I-It’s good…” She whispers, as if she was suspended in disbelief. Her gaze lifts, staring at you in awe.

“It is?” You question in astonishment, despite having already tasted it yourself.

Yuna nods, before breaking out into a wide smile.

You are absolutely ecstatic, watching her eagerly go for more bites and humming in content.

Jin practically yelps when he’s tackled into a hug, surprise flickering onto his features to see your arms wrapped around him.

Although he slightly winces from the sudden weight, he merely just chuckles and hugs you back.

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