#assistant!reader

[nottswitch]

omggg need !ceo theo as your boss..and you meet for lunch (18+)

── ⌗ assistant!reader meets ceo!theo for lunch at his penthouse

this ask is partially what made me create assistant!reader, so thank you !! so excited to finally write for ceo!theo, hope you enjoy <3

warnings: 18+ mdni, employer x employee, power imbalance, dry humping (it’s actually really wet), masturbation (f), praise, cursing, probably broken italian

if you said you didn’t know this would happen, you would’ve been a shameless liar. you did know; in fact, making it happen was your exact goal. but theodore wasn’t innocent, right? he should’ve expected it when he invited you to his penthouse for an ‘informal lunch’ to discuss the company’s latest project. you just so happened to have a very informal, low-cut dress which nearly made your tits spill out. and it was just an accident that you bent over right in front of him when you were picking up a teaspoon – which you had dropped purely due to your clumsiness. the outline of your lacy panties was just there, sinfully visible through the red satin of your thin, flimsy dress.

and theo just happened to lose his damn mind.

his cock was warm and heavy against your clothed ass as he rubbed it up and down between your cheeks, tightly hugged by the fabric. you were face down on the table, and he was groaning quieter than you’d like – as if he was still holding back, despite the situation – but you’d take what you could get. his hands were on your hips, rough, almost bruising – good, you thought, his control was slipping.

"così sbagliato,” theo muttered under his ragged breath, daring to open his eyes and glance down – his cock was leaving a dark wet trail of precum on the skirt of your dress, obvious evidence of just how weak he was for you. "così fottutamente sbagliato, ma non posso resistere, cazzo…"

you had a very vague idea what he was saying – something about it being wrong – but the raspiness of his already deep voice was doing magic. your hand was starting to get sore between your legs, trembling fingers sliding between your drenched folds – you could barely put pressure on your clit with how wet you were, but the pleasure was overwhelming. theo seemed to have noticed your jerky movements, which only spurred him on - his grinding picked up its pace, and his hands shifted from your hips to your ass. he took a hissy breath and pressed on his cock, pushing it further between your satin-covered asscheeks.

"so pretty…” he murmured, small pants escaping his mouth with every syllable as he watched how his length fit so perfectly against you. theo desperately wished he was inside of you – he’d been craving that for ages, but couldn’t bring himself to do it yet, his conscience battling with burning desire. so for now, he had to settle for rutting his hips faster and faster, chasing the release only you could truly provide.

"mr nott…" you moaned as your finger slipped inside – a pitiful substitute for what you imagine theodore’s cock would feel like, but you had no choice but make do.

theo groaned louder, and a shiver of satisfaction shot through your body, because he seemed to be getting closer. "don’t do that… don’t call me that,” he gritted out, pressing harder on his twitching, leaking cock. "you know— fuck, you know what it does to me…”

and you did, you did, but this time, it came out naturally, without any teasing in your soft, blissed out voice – you were losing yourself in the sensations just as much as theo was. a few more seconds, a slick melody of his precum seeping through your dress, your juices mixing up with it, and both of you were there. you came all over your fingers, and theodore spilled onto your dress, covering it in rapidly growing dark spots. heavy breaths filled the air around you, and both of you knew for a fact that this time wouldn’t be the last, no matter how much theo would try to forget that it ever happened.

more.

[maryangelex]

loser!reader x simon riley

loser!reader who’s hired by lasswel to help price with the immense amount of paperwork that he never gets to. who’s assigned to sit pretty at the beaten desk outside of his office. but I like the idea of reader not being the typical “sexy assistant” but more like loser girl frumpy sweater and thick rimmed glasses type of assistant who still gets these Kyle and Johnny riled up working extra hard and making dorks out of themselves trying to woo you but you’re just too oblivious to men’s advances. not simon though, he’s the one that’s the most awkward yet somehow effective? you get hired and on your first day, as you acclimate to your office with your matching pastel supplies that you so delicately organize across your desk to give this t-filled office a feminine touch, one by one the boys drop off their report files at your desk to be revised and handed over to price. the first one’s Kyle, who showers you in compliments that go way over your head, “sargeant Garrick sure is polite!” Is all you really think of it; kinda frustrating for him. the next one coming over is Johnny, who hands you his files with his eyes eating you up like you’re a bar of chocolate. Johnny makes you feel um, intimidated? it’s the way he’s got that look in his eyes that feels like he’ll eat you whole, like he’s got X-ray vision staring right through that bulky knitted sweater. It makes your cheeks turn beet red in embarrassment when he makes comments and one-liners to get you worked up. the last one to visit your desk that first day caught you off-guard. while you were turned around alphabetizing the manila folders in the file cabinet behind you, you turned around to the large apparition of a skull-faced man that might as well have been a hallucination because 2 seconds ago he was not there and a man that size should be impossible to go unnoticed. your heart jumps and gets caught in your throat when you turn around and see him; dark and massive and the only visible human feature in him are the dark brown eyes behind that mask. you greet him politely through a stutter as you return to your seat, and all he responds with is an extended arm with the reports in hand. you mutter a thank you, your throat constricted, and what you get in return is a grunt before he turns on his heels and disappears down the hallway.

you’re scared shitless of that man on your very first day.

little did you know, simon’s face under the mask was scarlet red and flushed hot the second he saw your innocent glimmering eyes behind your skewed frames, making him unable to get a word out and having no other option but to retreat.

[gurugirl]

Assistance Needed | assistant!reader

based on this request (thank you anon! hope you enjoy!)

Summary: Harry finds himself in an awkward position when you walk in on him in his office just as he's in the middle of something quite improper.

Word Count: 3,053

Warning: smut (oral sex), inappropriate relationship, power imbalance (boss/assistant)

| main masterlist |

. . .

How could you not know the lacy edge of your bra was peeking out from your lovely white silk top? Eyeglasses pushed up on your head while you leaned over the table and held the pencil between your teeth as you pointed to the paragraph in the document that you felt didn’t belong.

Harry stared down at the contract as you pulled the pencil from your lips to speak, “This looks like it doesn’t belong here. I feel like it was accidentally copied from a different contract altogether but we need to remove it.”

He looked up at your pretty eyes, already on his, and stood with a curt nod, “Yes. I think you’re right, Y/n. Once that’s done, print out enough copies for all the partners and we’ll sign them before the end of the day.”

You smiled at him and he felt his face warm. That’s all it took. Your smile.

But that was a problem because he was your boss. He paid your salary. You worked your ass off and you were the best assistant he’d ever had. You were even catching mistakes his administrative assistants didn’t. Sometimes he felt like you knew him better than his mom did. But that didn’t mean he was allowed to pine after you the way he was.

After closing the door to his office when you walked out he sat in his cushy leather chair and ran his hands into his hair. He couldn’t keep this up. His imagination would get the best of him at times but it’d been too frequent as of late. But part of him wondered why you had started wearing the things you were suddenly.

When you first started on, just over a year ago you always dressed professionally but very conservatively. There was no hint of anything particularly sexy or flirty. So Harry had never really looked at you like he had more recently. He always thought you were cute and smart and he was often surprised by how well you listened.

But then it turned into something like a friendship. He would seek you out for advice or to just chat, maybe even vent when the mood was right. He’d text you randomly midweek in the evening, then eventually he’d find himself shooting you a text on a Saturday afternoon, then a Saturday evening. And one day, when he was thinking about you while he was grocery shopping he realized he didn’t just find you refreshing to be around. Nor was he just simply happy to see you and enjoyed your company. No. He liked you. Liked you, liked you.

It really all blew up in his face, though, when you walked into the office one morning a couple of months ago wearing this dress that had his heart stopping and his tongue sliding out of his mouth (yes, just like a cartoon). He felt like a creep. He already knew he was developing feelings for you on some level but when he got a glimpse of you in something slightly more revealing it was like he was 16 again. It was embarrassing when he had to hide the front of his pants because all it took for you to make him hard was to wear a high heel or a dress that was on the shorter side.

Or wearing a thin white silk shirt tucked into a well-fitted pencil skirt and the tiniest peek of lace.

And he decided to do something he’d never done in his life. It’d be fast. No one would ever know and Harry could talk to you with a clear head and it would keep his boner at bay, at least until he left the office.

Scooting in closer to his desk he unzipped his pants and opened up his drawer to pull out tissues before spitting into his palm and smoothing it down his shaft. The relief was instant. He was swollen and already throbbing in his hand, which is why he knew it’d be fast. He could take his time later on at home, but in that moment, he needed to get off before you walked back into his office with the updated documents.

His breaths got deeper as he dropped his mouth open and closed his eyes and thought about your laugh and the curve of your bottom, your lips…

Pumping himself faster he laid one hand flat on his desk as he softly grunted the closer he got to this end. Another glob of saliva over himself made the glide of his big palm even better and he sighed when he felt his balls tighten and imagined your pretty lips wrapped around him, big, soft eyes looking up at him, the front of your shirt fully unbuttoned so he could get a proper look at the pretty bra he knew you were wearing underneath.

He was almost there when he heard a single knock at his door before it opened. You walked in with a folder and a smile on your face before closing the door behind you.

“I printed out copies for everyone. Michelle confirmed that the paragraph was transferred over from the Cota documents.”

Harry scooted himself into the desk and tried to catch his breath and act normal, hoping you wouldn’t see what he was doing or notice anything was off but he’d been right at the edge and his tip was already leaking as you laid the papers down on his desk. So far, it seemed as though you had no idea.

“Everything okay, Mr. Styles?” You suddenly paused and looked at his face. He seemed on edge.

“Yes. Fine. Thank you. I’ll sign these in a few minutes. Just, uh finishing something here.”

You squinted at him and noticed how flushed he was. How wide his pupils were. How dark his pink lips were. And his erratic behavior was a little odd.

“Are you sure? Is there something I can help you with?”

He looked up at you from his spot in his cushy chair and noticed the flirty grin on your face (was it flirty or was he just losing his mind?). The edge of your mouth quirked up as you slid your gaze downward to the space where the bottom half of his torso was just hidden underneath his desk.

“I don’t think that’s…” he inhaled, trying to calm his ragged breaths and will his erection away.

But instead of you stepping back and heading to his door to leave you cocked your head and sauntered to the side of his desk as if you already knew what he’d been doing and were determined to catch him in the act.

See, you’d been aware of his growing interest in you. And when the texts he’d send you on the weekends turned into flirtatious banter well into the evenings you decided to test out your theory. The first time you wore a dress that was just slightly shorter and tighter than normal with high heels that showed off your legs you realized he was checking you out.

So you did it again and again until you were positive it wasn’t just in your head. He was attracted to you. And it was so wrong of you to feed into it the way you did but it was hard not to enjoy the attention because Harry Styles was quite the specimen. Handsome and tall and witty… he was sexy, you’d always thought so.

And it was quite bold of you to assume anything but that day, you were feeling bold. Everything had been working for you since you woke up. Your outfit was banging (if you did say so yourself), your lipstick was staying put, you’d gotten the perfect amount of sleep, and your coffee order had been exactly to your preference. But what had you feeling extra confident was the double take Harry did when you stepped into his office that morning with his coffee.

“Mr. Styles,” you placed your hand on the edge of his desk and leaned down closer, “Tell me what you need.”

He blinked in surprise and swallowed, “I… what?”

Sliding your hand closer to the edge of the desk where he was you bit your lip as your shirt draped open slightly and you saw his pupils drag over your lacy bra.

You looked down at your cleavage and back up at him, “What? Do you like it?”

You watched him swallow again, a thick lump bobbing in his throat, “Do I like it?” He furrowed his brow and looked from your bra to your eyes, “It’s pretty.”

A grin took over your expression as you looked back down at your shirt, “Want to see more? I don’t mind.”

“I can’t. I’m…” he inhaled a shaky breath and looked down at his lap before pinning his eyes back to yours, “I’m your boss. This is inappropriate.”

You shrugged and pushed yourself back up, “I understand,” and turned to walk out. If he didn’t want to take it further you’d certainly not push it. But you knew he was up to something under his desk and you had a feeling what it was.

“Y/n wait a moment, please.”

You looked back at him and placed your arms over your chest with a soft smile, waiting for him to continue.

“Are you serious that you don’t mind?”

Shaking your head you released your arms, letting them fall to your sides, “I mean… this is embarrassing but I sort of wore this on purpose. Thought you might like it. So if you wanted to see more, well it’s for you anyway.”

“For me…” he repeated your words quietly as he considered his next steps.

“Yes. I’ve been dressing for you. I know I shouldn’t because, like you said, you’re my boss but… I don’t know.”

“I am your boss. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t been thinking about you in ways I shouldn’t be.”

“Like you were doing just before I walked in?”

His jaw clenched and he looked back down at his lap with a nod before turning his gaze back to yours, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I think about you too, you know.”

“Probably not like this.”

“Like what? Were you… Mr. Styles, were you touching yourself under your desk?”

He was like a deer caught in headlights. Eyes wide and scanning as he shifted uncomfortably, “I was. I apologize, I…”

Stepping forward you shook your head, “Don’t apologize. When I asked you if you needed something I hoped you’d let me, you know…” you breathed out a laugh and shrugged.

“You wanted to… help me? Like…” his brows scrunched together as if he couldn’t believe where the conversation was headed.

“Yes. If you wanted. We can pretend nothing happened and I’ll leave right now but I would love to– assist.”

He swallowed again, the gulp sounding in the quiet of his office, “Fuck,” he cursed and looked down at his length. He felt like such a pervert but here you were offering your assistance. When he looked back up at you, you’d already made your way back to his desk, eyes wide and hopeful.

“I can’t ask you to do that, Y/n. I don’t want to take advantage of you in that way.”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me. If anything I’d be taking advantage of you. I’ve been hoping it’d come to this and that you’d need me to help you. Whatever you want. My hand, my mouth…”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. His pretty assistant was standing there waiting for the word. You wanted it. He knew it would be a big mistake but he nodded despite his better judgment, “Okay. I’m already hard and I was pretty close when you walked in so it won’t take long. I’m not gonna make you use your mouth but if you wanted–“

“I would like to use my mouth if you’re okay with it,” you placed your glasses down and began to round the desk to be closer to him when he moved his chair back and you saw it. Ruddy tip, thick from root to crown, precum pearled at his slit and slowly dripping down the impressive length. It looked heavy. His cock was almost as gorgeous as he was.

“You poor thing,” you knelt down next to his chair and slid your hands up his thighs, “I want to make you feel good, Mr. Styles. Is it okay if I suck you off or would you rather me just use my hand?”

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back into his chair, “Fuck… fuck…” his cock twitched as you moved in, perching yourself between his thighs and waiting for his answer.

“If you want you can use your mouth. It’s up to you. I’m not in the position to be picky really, am I?” He laughed his green eyes on yours again.

You smiled back at him and let your nails scrape over the material of his pants before you allowed yourself the indulgence of wrapping your palm around him and he hissed, his head falling into the back of the chair again, but this time he kept his eyes opened as he watched you.

You licked your lips and smeared his precome down his shaft before fixing yourself on your knees and spitting over his head, “You can come in my mouth too,” you added before dipping down and tonguing at his slit for a taste of what was to come. He smelled clean and neutral. The precome was only slightly salty and bitter.

But the moment you took him in your mouth, lips stretching over his crown he gurgled a moan and placed his palm on the back of your head.

Smooth strokes of your mouth up and down, your tongue cradling the underside of his cock as you sucked and hollowed your cheeks. He was quite girthy and long. You clenched your thighs as you took him deeper, wondering what he’d feel like tucked into your cunt, pressing through your already clenching, slick walls.

“Oh fuck… Y/n… shit…” he let curses fall from his mouth as you lightly gagged around him, your drool starting to make a bit of a mess on his pants, “Fuck me… such a good girl. Oh my god…”

He was delirious. It was just what you wanted; to have him mumbling nonsense and praise and to have him shivering… soon he’d be pouring into your throat.

You bobbed over him, his chair squeaking as he tensed his thighs to keep the bottom from swiveling and you felt pressure on your head as he instinctually attempted to keep you in place with his hand. Your sinuses burned as he rutted up into your mouth, a gagged moan coming from the back of your throat as he throbbed and fucked his tip further back, “My god, Y/n… holy shit, such a good fucking assistant, aren’t you? Gonna take my come down your throat? Yeah?”

You moaned and let your blurry eyes slide up to his face and he groaned when he made eye contact with you. It was dirty and sexy, and completely improper for him to be balls-deep in his assistant's mouth. But fuck it was pretty. You were pretty but with your lips wrapped around him, drool slipping from your mouth and down your chin, and watery eyes blinking up at him, the scene was lewd.

He pulled you up so you could gasp for air, strings of saliva connected to his cock and your lips as you heaved in a breath and he wrapped his palm around your neck and pulled you in, his lips pressing against yours.

You were already slick in your panties but now this was making you dizzy. You moaned and pumped his cock slowly before he whispered against your lips, “You okay still?”

“Yes. So good. Let me finish you off.”

So he released your neck and you immediately encased his cock with your warm mouth again, sucking and bobbing and moaning wetly until he was quivering and thrusting his hips, hand pressed over your head once again as he began to pump hot, sticky cum into your mouth. You gulped him down and curved your tongue along his length as he let out a hoarse groan.

It was sloppy. You’d drooled a lot and you were sure your mascara was running down your cheeks, but you didn’t care. You’d risk being a bit of a mess if you could have him like this. You’d take what you could get of your handsome boss.

Harry moved his hand away from your head and you swallowed the last of him down as you pulled up, letting your tongue lick any missed cum, suckling at his tip before sitting back and looking up at him with a smile.

He was breathing hard as he reached for your face, “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” you laughed softly and pushed yourself to stand. “Think I need to clean up a little before I step out of here.”

Harry tucked himself back into his pants and laughed, “A little. I like the raccoon look, though.”

You opened up the cabinet next to his desk, the door had a mirror on the inside as you dapped tissues at your eyes, “You only like it because of what it represents,” you grinned. “Anyone else would be confused and worried about me if they saw me like this.”

Harry watched as you cleaned up and noticed you kept squeezing your thighs together, “What about you, Y/n? Need anything?”

You huffed a laugh, still feeling flustered and on the edge of crazy for doing what you just did, “Nothing I can’t take care of myself. Besides, there’s no time right now. You’ve got a conference call in a few minutes and I need to run these documents to the other guys before they leave.”

He stood up, following you to the door and stopping you before you could step out, “Will you come find me before you leave today?”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I always do, don’t I?”

Harry pushed a laugh out through his nose and nodded, “You’re right. You do. See you in a while then?”

You opened the door and smiled at him, “Of course, Mr. Styles.”

. . .

Feedback/Thoughts | Ko-fi | Main Masterlist | Patreon

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any support so remember to comment, reblog, & like 💕

Tags: @yousunshineyoutempter @tenaciousperfectionunknown @swiftmendeshoran @tiaamberxx @lukesaprince

@closureesny @angelbabyyy99 @damnasstyles @malwtilda @love-letters-to-uranus

@itjustkindahappenedreally @ssaama @onlyangellucifer @harryistheonlyoneforme @butdaddyilovehim-hs

@lc-fics @mema10 @hannahdressedasabanana @babegoalsreads @harrrrystylesslut

@elidoho @gotdrxnkonu @freedomfireflies @cathy-1997 @imgonnadreamaboutthewayyoutaaaa

@certainlysyko @tiredinwinter @princessaxoxo @angeldavis777 @lillefroe

@monicaalexandraaa @hsonlyangelxo @brittanyzelazno @lemoncrushh @golfrry

@caynonmoondreams @danaehldy @mellamolayla @ladscarlett @babyurthendofjune

@heartateasee @littlenatilda @virgopr1ncess @finelinepie @michellekstyles

@harrysredroom @harrydeary @mrs-anna-styles211994 @devilsqueen722 @bananabk9756

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive - congressman bucky barnes

okay not my best work, i swear i have like nine drafts i've come up with in a week, none of them good enough to post.

this is inspired by miss possessive by tate mcrae even though i completely lost sight of the song really quickly

part 2

part 3

~~~

you really had no right to be so jealous.

you watched him from across the floor, sipping on your flute of champagne. you'd grabbed it off of one of those waiters' trays as they were walking about the room.

it tasted like shit. you didn't like the taste of wine, and it wasn't even enough to get you drunk.

you knew this kind of event was difficult for him to sit through, but hey, he made his choice going into politics.

you watched as he made his rounds, speaking to various donors and attempting to charm them. you watched as all their wives fawned over your-

no.

you watched as all their wives fawned over him, bringing him in for a hug instead of a handshake. of course they were interested; he was the best looking man here. yes, he was the oldest man in the room, but appeared to be the youngest and was, regardless, easily the most attractive. and all the thirty-some wives of the cranky old rich white men wanted him.

it pissed you off. not that you had the right to be pissed, but. oh well. you're just a girl.

after two flutes of champagne, you watch as one of the donors receives a phone call, leaving his wife with Bucky. ever the gentleman, he would never leave a woman all by herself in a room full of sharks who might try to snatch her up. 

Bucky was very much a different man than he was in the forties, of course. doesn't mean he lost the ability to attract every woman in the room.

you can't stand idly by as she puts his hands all over him, and he can't take his eyes off of her. no, of course he would never go for a married woman. what he did know, though, was that if he pissed her off, her husband wouldn't donate to his campaign.

you roll your eyes and decide it's time for some hard liquor.

you hide in the corner of the room, drinking your much stronger beverage as fast as possible. no, getting drunk at a professional event isn't the best idea, but what do you care. you're not the star of the show.

he is.

he's the brilliant ex-POW who's turned his entire life around in a whole new century. he's the gorgeous soldier who not only survived, but is also electing to do something meaningful with his life. 

he's the star tonight.

he's the star of every thought you have of your future, but that can't possibly come to surface now. it's not the time or place. 

watching him entertain this woman truly boils your blood, but at least you have some actual alcohol in your system now. you no longer feel the need to justify why her hands on his pristine suit makes you want to grab her by the diamonds around her neck and yank her off of him. you can justify your desire to grab him by the tie to pull him away from her and yell at him for not focusing on what's important. 

you bite your tongue. you knew it was all a ploy.

doesn't mean you had to like it. 

~~~

while you stand at the bar waiting for your second beverage of the evening, a man comes up next to you, and the bartender takes his drink order. 

you give him a small, awkward smile as you briefly make eye contact. you're kind of shocked: he's definitely the only man in this room who appears to be younger than 60, Bucky excluded.

you almost startle when he speaks up, introducing himself. Michael, he says his name is.

you turn to actually face him this time. roughly 40, plenty taller than you, and brown hair sprinkled with some greys in there. your perfect type. you quietly tell yourself you're done drinking–no way you're gonna fuck this up. if you weren't so mad about Bucky's new admirer, you might be a tad less inclined to speak to him, but… 

you step closer as you give him a real smile and introduce yourself.

"so, correct me if I'm wrong, but something tells me you're here alone tonight," he begins, indicating to your left hand. no ring. 

you laugh a little. 

"you would be correct," you tell him. "I could say the same about you."

he smiles back at you. it's so beautiful you forget all about your boss and the woman he's now got on his arm as he continues to walk around–

well. you almost forget. good enough.

"you would also be correct."

you explain why you're here, you work for one of the candidates. although, you don't tell him who, exactly. he explains why he's here, one of the patrons. you have to pry the information out of him, but you appreciate it: he's trying to talk to you without flashing his money in your face. it's noble, you think.

you eventually learn he's interested in actually getting to know the candidates' campaigns, not just what they think they can offer him in return for his money.

"you know, I would be happy to learn more about your boss' campaign. from one of the people who probably understands it best," he tells you. you're slightly taken aback for a moment, not aware this was a business interaction. you never even told him who your boss was, so it was confusing, to say the least.

you felt stupid for thinking he was actually interested, for thinking that he was flirting with you.

"oh, of course-" you begin to tell him, but he interjects, "after I take you out, perhaps?"

your smile perks back up subconsciously. so you didn't have it wrong.

"I would love that," you tell him, carefully taking the lapels of his jacket into your hands. you feel his hands come to your waist, and it's like a jolt of energy runs up your spine.

you look closer and almost flip your shit as you see his eyes up close. they're Bucky's eyes. he's not Bucky, sadly, but. 

you're fucked.

"maybe dinner can happen... another time?" you offer, hoping he gets the hint. you realize you probably look like a whore throwing yourself at him like this.

he chuckles. "I've got a room upstairs, if you'd like to come have drinks instead of dinner."

hell yes. you're gonna score tonight, even if it's not with the man you dream about with your hands between your legs every night-

"I would," you say, and bite your tongue. "I just... have to stick around until this thing is over. yeah?"

he nods and steps back. "I suppose I should also do what I came here for," he chuckles. "I'll come find you later?"

you smile and you feel your face go pink. "sounds good."

you can't help the fact that your gaze reverts immediately back to your boss the second the man walks off. Bucky hasn't spared you a single glance all evening, but the second you look back at him this time, you're suddenly staring into his beautiful eyes. 

he holds eye contact with you for what feels like an eternity. his expression is muted, no real emotion showing. maybe... curiosity?

of course he's not going to look mad, or upset, or jealous. you have to stop thinking he'd ever look at you with anything other than pure professionalism.

because he's everything. and you're just a kid, lost in the world, desperately in love with your boss, and everything is fucking falling apart around you.

at least you've got a rich, hot, older man ready to fuck you tonight.

~~~

you kept to your word to yourself and didn't drink for the rest of the night, although you continued hovering at the bar for the semblance of safety it provided.

you continued staring at Bucky for the next two hours. the clingy woman's husband had, in fact, returned and took her away from Bucky. clearly, she was pissed, but tried to hide it. you had to bite back a smirk.

he didn't look back at you once for the rest of the evening.

eventually, the crowd dies down. you realize that now, you have to explain to your boss that you won't be riding back to the office with him, effectively telling him your exact plans for the rest of the night. embarrassing!

you're almost ready to bite the bullet and bid Bucky a good night, scanning the room for him, when you hear a voice from behind you. 

"we still on for drinks?"

you plaster a smile on your face as you turn around to the man standing behind you.

"absolutely," you say, taking his hands. "lead the way."

you begin to follow the man, telling yourself to try and remember to shoot your boss a text to 'not worry about you' before getting your clothes torn off by this man who's currently whisking you away.

you get into the elevator with him, what's his name, you think? oh, Michael, and yank him in hard, crashing your mouths together, putting all of your energy into how badly you need this.

you're startled by the sound of a clanging of metal, ripping your mouth away from the man's and turning to face the noise.

well, apparently, you were too eager and stupid enough to not wait for the elevator doors to entirely shut, because you see now that the noise was a result of Bucky's vibranium arm grabbing the elevator door. he pushes it open and steps inside, eyes piercing daggers through you the whole time.

you stand there, appalled. the man gently pulls away from you, reaching out a hand to attempt to shake Bucky's hand.

"Mr. Barnes, it's a pleasure," he begins. "my apologies for this... less than ideal meeting."

Bucky doesn't even look at the man, eyeing you up and down, taking in your smudged lipstick and the way your dress is slightly out of place.

the man attempts once more to interject. "Mr. Barnes, please, don't worry about her. why don't us men go back downstairs and have a real discussion? I'd love to hear more about your campaign."

wait. why do his words sound like they're throwing you under the bus, almost?

Bucky notices it, too, you realize. he tilts his head in the man's direction before actually averting his gaze to look at him.

"and leave the lady all by herself?" he asks.

"don't worry about that. she's... inconsequential. if you and I can just go back downstairs and–"

"what did you just say?" Bucky asks. you swear he doesn't look like your boss anymore, but someone... else.

the man is taken aback by Bucky's demeanor. his mouth gapes like an idiot.

"you do know this is my assistant, right?" Bucky asks him. the man's face goes pale as the pieces slot together in his head.

"Mr. Barnes, my apologies, truly," he says.

you just stand there feeling more stupid than ever. inconsequential? wow, okay. you almost don't even care that he's dismissing your entire existence, but you can't stand the fact that he's doing it in front of Bucky. you care more about what Bucky thinks of you than literally anyone else, and now? now he's going to see you as a fucking slut who isn't even good enough for a man to commit to for one night.

god, you're pathetic.

"shouldn't you be apologizing to her?" Bucky grits.

the elevator doors open to the man's floor, and he mumbles a sorry under his breath as he runs out.

great. not only do you look pathetic in front of your boss, but you're not getting fucked tonight, either. just great.

the doors shut behind Bucky, who has now returned his gaze to you. you wonder if he's going to press the button to go back to the lobby.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Mr. Barnes," you say, swallowing your embarrassment as you stand up straight and adjust your dress.

he just stares at you.

"what?" you ask.

"are you okay?" he asks, and he looks genuinely concerned.

you know he cares about you, you're his assistant, after all. but that's it.

"fine," you assure him, and begin to reach behind him to press the button to take you back down to the lobby.

he gently grabs your wrist before you can.

you look at him, confused. you know your face says it all.

"Mr.–" you begin.

"Bucky," he corrects.

"can I press the button, Mr. Barnes?"

he still hasn't let go of your wrist. you feel stupid for enjoying the feel of his metal hand against your skin, for getting to feel a part of him that's real.

"you know, you clearly picked out the worst of the men here tonight," he observes.

you roll your eyes and pull your wrist away from him before you do something stupid.

"are you kidding? this place was riddled with capitalist billionaires and politicians. like you," you say, smirking.

he chuckles a little.

you can't help yourself, though. can't let it go unsaid.

"clearly you had some interested parties of your own tonight."

he rolls his eyes and finally turns away from you, pressing the button for the lobby. you let out a quiet sigh of relief. being in this elevator any longer, with him? that would just about kill you.

"you noticed that, huh?" he asks.

"who didn't?" you mumble. but of course, he's not just a politician, he's an enhanced, so he hears it.

"look, I knew she was married, I was never going to-" he begins to explain, but you cut him off.

"oh, I don't care what she does in her own fucked-up marriage."

oh my god. what did you just say? did you just admit to the fact that the only reason you did care was because she was fawning over Bucky?

fuck.

the elevator doors open, and you rush out.

you can hear the smirk on his face as he trails after you.

"so, you were really going to sleep with that guy, huh?" he teases.

you stop in your tracks. most everyone has left by now, leaving only you and Bucky in the room aside from the clean-up crew. you turn back to face him.

"can we just go?"

he nods and calls for the car to come around.

~~~

twenty minutes, you remind yourself.

in twenty minutes, you'll have made it back to the office, and you can go get in your own car and take yourself back to your own place and you won't have to be sitting thigh to thigh with your boss in the back of a limo that would totally be hot to fuck in-

he clears his throat, and you turn your head to face him.

"what that guy said..." he begins. you roll your eyes in anger at the reminder. you didn't even care he said it, you just wish he hadn't said it in front of Bucky.

you wave your hand as though waving off the thought, and waving off Bucky's concern. but it doesn't quite work like that.

"you're not inconsequential."

he says it with such a conviction you feel it deep in your bones, in the very core of your being. he sounds so authentic that it almost hurts.

a million thoughts swirl in your head. you could say i know, you could get defensive, you could say thanks, Bucky...

a better one pops in your head.

"how did you know where I was? you didn't see me all evening."

the limo stops moving. the driver rolls down the divider to grumble something about traffic at this hour? before rolling it back up again.

great. now it's going to take even longer to get home to your vibrator.

Bucky sees the interruption as a way to drop the matter. you press it.

"Mr. Barnes?"

"god, would you stop calling me that?"

you see him turn away from you to look out the window, biting his lip and rubbing his forehead. you've now frustrated him, and he's mad at you. this is good. it's easier for you to deal with him being angry at you than him being nice to you.

you know he just wants you to call him Bucky, but you're a smartass.

"yeah, okay, sorry. Sergeant Barnes," you mumble, smirking to yourself.

he about flips his shit. why is he getting so worked up?

"seriously?" he asks, turning back to you. his eyes are blown back, in anger, probably. not lust, like you wish they were. because you're just a stupid kid, and he's just your boss with a lifetime of trauma. you could never understand him the way you wanted to.

"what?" you say, biting your lip as you smile, continuing to tease him.

you swear that for a second, he glances down to your lips.

SHIT!

in that embarrassing moment, you realize your lipstick is still smudged across your face from the moment in the elevator. your heart rate shoots up as you bury your head in your chest, bringing your hand to wipe away the mess of your face, before turning to face the opposite way from him.

you are, well and truly, stuck in traffic. some concert, or sports game, or whatever...

which means you're stuck, pressed up against your boss, in the back of this tiny limo right now, for only god knows how much longer.

you're pulling your phone out of your clutch when he says your name.

you want to lean into the feeling, how smooth it is. how crisp his voice is, how pretty it sounds saying your name, as though he's genuinely paying you any attention whatsoever.

"you're not inconsequential."

it flares your anger, all of it coming up from your gut and into your throat, as you respond.

"god, would you forget it already?" you snap.

shit, shit, shit. you fucked up. you just snapped at your boss, of all people. you try to backtrack, throw out a million comments of "sorry," but that's it, you're getting fired.

you finally look back at him, and he's actually looking at you. like, it feels like he's staring into your soul, seeing all the pieces of you that you're trying to keep hidden from him.

the car begins moving again.

~~~

he watches you, trying to figure you out, as always.

he can't think of a better word for it than the fact that you genuinely amuse him.

he sees the look in your eyes, the way you're desperately trying to cover up the shame you feel over what happened in the elevator. he's trying to be gentle about it, trying to assure you that what the man said was utter bullshit, but you keep shutting him down.

god, and you look so...

no. you're, like, 80-plus years younger than him (he rubs his temples every time he remembers his age) and employed by him. any interest on his part would be purely inappropriate, a gross misuse of his position of power.

and god, his fucking age, man. he shouldn't even be around anymore-

anyways.

you look at him with those fucking doe eyes, going back and forth between anger, and shame, and something else he can't quite pinpoint.

this is probably the worst part of what happened. you're always so unapologetically yourself, but he can tell this man has gotten under your skin.

even if it's not his job to comfort you, he doesn't want you to feel like that. because who you are is perfect. 

~~~

one minute, you're staring into his eyes, trying to read the look on his face. 

the next, you're bracing yourself as the car spins out of control, feeling hit after hit of various cars all crashing into you sequentially.

you don't register it until after it's all over. the way he's wrapped himself around you as though to protect you. his flesh arm cradles your head to his chest and his vibranium hand wraps itself around the back of your neck.

you take a few deep breaths and begin to pull away from him, looking up to his face as you do. his eyes widen in shock as he looks at you. what? what is it?

"fuck, we gotta get you to a hospital." 

~~~

part 2

part 3

masterlist

tag list

tagged: @clavedelune

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Mixing Business With Pleasure » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Assistant!Female Reader

Summary: You and Bucky decide to mix business with pleasure after work hours.

Warnings: Smut (18+), language, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, female receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, office sex, Sergeant kink, praise kink, vibranium arm kink, size kink, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF MADE BY ME!

“Sergeant Barnes, I have those papers you asked for earlier.” You say, walking in his office.

You stopped short of the door when you realized noticed that Bucky was on the phone.

“Oh, sorry.” You apologized softly.

“It’s ok. You can stay. I’ll be done in a minute.” Bucky whispers.

You nodded and put the papers on his desk and took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. You sat there patiently while you waited for Bucky to get off the phone. He got off the phone a few minutes later.

“Sorry about that. Fundraiser stuff.” He says.

Bucky walks to his desk and picked up the papers you put on his desk a few minutes ago.

“Is there anything else you want me to do before I go home?” You asked.

“No, that’s it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says with a smile.

You smiled back and stood up, walking towards the door.

“Actually…” Bucky stops you. “Can you stay for a little bit?” He asks.

“Of course, Sergeant Barnes.” You replied.

“One more thing, close and lock the door.” He says.

You nodded and did as you were told. You wondered why Bucky wanted the door closed and locked, but you didn’t question it. You walked back over to him, standing a couple feet away from him. Bucky walked around his desk.

“C’mere.” He motions you over to him.

You walked over to him. Bucky’s eyes scanned your body. He licked his lips, loving the way your dress looks on you. He walked closer to you. You walked backwards till you were stopped by his desk. Your breathing got heavier when his body was practically against yours. He put his hands on the edge of his desk, trapping you between his body and his desk.

“Sergeant Barnes…” You whispered. “I thought we weren’t allowed to mix business with pleasure.” You say.

“It won’t hurt to indulge a bit. Besides, we’ve earned it from how hard we worked this week.” Bucky says in almost a whisper, his voice sounding husky.

There’s no secret that you and Bucky are attracted to each other. You tried not to let it show. You’ve always thought it was wrong to mix business with pleasure, but maybe this time is different. Plus, it is after work hours. So why not indulge a bit like Bucky said. After all, you two have been working hard this week.

You gasped softly when you felt his lips on your neck. Bucky places soft kisses on your neck. His beard scratched against your skin, which feels so good. You tilted your head to the side to give him more access. He chuckles lightly against your skin.

“I knew you would want to indulge in this as much as I do.” Bucky murmurs softly.

You hummed in response. Bucky kissed you hungrily. You moaned against his lips. He picked you up and placed you on a clear spot on his desk. You spread your legs so he could in between them. You could feel how hard his cock is against your panty covered pussy.

You pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders. Bucky took it off and tossed it on his desk chair. You loosened his tie and took it off, tossing it on his desk chair where his jacket is. Your fingers unbuttoned every one of the buttons on his shirt, revealing his perfectly sculpted body. Your hands roamed his body, feeling all of his muscles. Bucky took his shirt off the rest of the way and tossed it on his chair where his clothes are starting to pile up.

Bucky’s hands found their way under your skirt to your panties. He hooked his fingers in the waistband and pulled them down. He shoved the wet fabric in his pocket. You watched his right hand go in between your legs. You moaned softly when his fingers brushed against your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Bucky whispers. “Are you gonna to be a good girl for me, babydoll?” He asks, whispering in your ear.

“Yes.” You replied. “I’ll be so good for you, Sergeant.” You whispered.

Bucky sank to his knees in between your legs. His hands caressed your thighs as his face moved closer to your pussy. His tongue licked from your entrance to your clit. You moaned softly.

“Fuck, you taste amazing.” He almost whispers.

You sat up on your elbows and watched as he ate you out like a starved man. Bucky put one of his hands on your stomach to hold you down. You bit your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning too loud, scared that someone might hear what you guys are doing in Bucky’s office after hours, even though you two are the only ones in the building right now.

“We’re the only ones here. Let me hear those pretty moans, babydoll.” Bucky says softly.

His name left your lips multiple times. Bucky was pleased to hear your moans. It was like music to his ears. The sound of your moans went straight to his cock, making it uncomfortably hard in his dress pants.

“Sergeant Barnes…” You moaned breathlessly, tilting your head back.

One of your hands found its way to his hair, carding your fingers through his soft slicked back hair. Your other hand kept you propped up on his desk. You stared down at your boss in between your legs as he ate you out. Bucky’s eyes flicked up at you. His blue eyes are now darkened with lust. He winked at you.

“I want-” You were cut off by a moan.

“What do you want, babydoll? Tell me what you want.” Bucky says huskily, giving your clit a few flicked either his tongue.

“I want your fingers.” You finally say.

“Which ones?” He smirks, wiggling his fingers.

“These ones.” You pointed at his vibranium fingers.

Bucky smirks at you. He has seen the way you stare at his vibranium arm when his jacket is off and his shirt sleeves are rolled up.

Bucky pulled his mouth away from your pussy. He brought his vibranium fingers up to your pussy and rubbed them in between your folds, coating them in your slick. You moaned at the cool feeling of the vibranium against your pussy. He then slid two fingers in your pussy. He fucked you with them at a decent pace. Your mouth fell open, moaning softly.

“Yes, fuck, Sergeant!” You moaned. “Just like that!” You moaned again.

His fingers moved faster. He curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside of you perfectly. You moaned loud each time he hit that spot. His vibranium thumb began to rub your clit in circles. Bucky’s name left your lips like a soft chant.

Bucky stood upright in between your legs, his fingers still fucking you. You could feel his hard bulge pressed against your inner thigh. He kissed you hungrily. You parted your lips just enough for him to slide his tongue in your mouth. You moaned against his lips.

“Sergeant…” You tilted your head back. “Fuck me please.” You begged.

“Cum for me first, doll face and then I’ll fuck this sweet pussy.” Bucky says.

Bucky sped up the thrust sped of his fingers. He curled them each time, hitting that one spot inside of you perfectly. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came on his vibranium fingers. Bucky gave your clit a few more rubs before pulling them out of your pussy.

“Holy shit…” You breathed.

After you caught your breath, your fingers unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his dress pants. Bucky unbuttoned your blouse, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders and onto the desk behind you. He licks his lips when he seen your lace bra. You bit your bottom lip and reached your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra, letting it fall from your chest.

You kissed him hungrily and slid a hand in his dress pants, rubbing his hard cock through his boxers. Bucky moans against your lips. He then took your hand out of his pants so he could pull down his pants and boxers just enough for his hard cock to spring out. He pulled you closer to him, your ass on the edge of the desk. He stroked his cock a couple times before rubbing it against your slick folds, coating it with your slick. A gasp left your lips when the tip of his cock entered your pussy. His tip alone split you open.

“Oh fuck…” You moaned, tilting your head back. “You’re so big.” You moaned again.

Bucky moans at how tight you are, loving the way your pussy squeezes his cock. He watches as his cock slides in your pussy. It’s sinful and hot. He couldn’t help but thrust faster. You wrapped your arms around his strong body, your nails digging in his skin. You pressed your lips against his skin, kissing along his skin softly. Your teeth nipped on the skin of his collarbone, marking him up.

Should you be leaving hickeys and scratches on your boss? No. Should your boss be fucking you senseless on his desk? No. Do either of you care? No. Something about all of this feels so right to you guys and you guys love it and neither of you want it to stop.

Bucky spread your legs wider and leaned over you, fucking you at a better angle. His cock hit that one spot inside of you perfectly. A pornographic moan left your lips. It was music to Bucky’s ears.

“Is that your little spot, doll face?” Bucky asks softly in your ear.

“Yes!” You answered and gasped softly. “Please don’t stop!” You moaned.

“I fucking won’t.” He growls softly.

Bucky increased the pace of his thrusts. Your nails dug in his skin, leaving red scratch marks on his back. He reached a hand in between the two of you, blindly feeling for your clit and found it with ease. You gasped when you felt the cool vibranium of his fingers on your clit. His vibranium fingers rubbed your clit in circles, helping your orgasm build up, in which it started to.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned.

A low moan left Bucky’s lips when he felt your pussy squeeze around his cock.

“You’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that, babydoll.” He pants.

His orgasm built up, along with yours. Your legs started to shake a little bit. You felt the coil in your stomach about to snap. Your orgasm was about to come crashing down on you.

“I can feel you getting close, doll. You gonna cum?” Bucky asks.

“Mhmm, yes!” You moaned.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” He whispers in your ear.

You arched your back in pleasure, pressing your breasts against his chest. A pornographic moan left your lips as you came.

“That’s a good girl.” He praises softly.

Bucky’s orgasm wasn’t too far behind yours. He leaned his forehead against your shoulder. His thrusts got sloppy, but he regained rhythm. A mix of a growl and a moan left his lips as he came, coming deep inside of you.

“Holy shit…” Bucky moans.

His thrusts came to a stop. He stayed in between your legs for a moment, his cock still inside of you.

“I’m so glad that I hired you.” Bucky says with a smile.

You smiled back and pecked his lips softly. He then pulled his cock out of you and cleaned the two of you up with tissues before you two got dressed. You checked the time on your phone. It was later than either of you expected.

“I’ll drive you home.” He says.

“Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” You smiled.

“Call me Bucky.” He politely corrects you and smiles.

“Bucky.” You say softly with a smile.

This the first time and definitely not the last time you and Bucky mix business with pleasure.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[theetherealbloom]

YOU'RE THE RISK, I'M GONNA TAKE IT

Summary: You help your boss, Joel Miller, buy flowers for his date. Or so you thought.

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, SMUT, Light Angst, Reader Dislikes Roses (i also dislike them :P), Kissing, Cheesy, Crush, Grumpy Single Dad, Office/Workplace Romance, Assistant!Reader, Billionaire!Joel, CEO!Joel, Boss!Joel, She Falls First and He Falls Harder Trope, Grumpy/Sunshine Trope, Idiots-In-Love, Confessions, PWP (wrap it up ya’ll), Fingering, Power Imbalance, Pet Names, ‘Good Girl’, ‘Darlin’,

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: SOOOO WE’VE ALL SEEN THAT PIC RIGHT???? FML, if I ever saw that man carrying flowers and gifting them to me, I would marry him right away. 

This is for @morallyinept Jett’s Flora & Fauna Writing Challenge for May! I was obviously inspired by the picture in the moodboard above and my love for Gracie Abram’s new song Risk! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated, thank you all for reading and supporting my deluluness tehe.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Risk by Gracie Abrams

Main Masterlist

In the elegant floral shop, the scent of fresh blooms enveloped you as you stood beside your boss, Joel Miller, a man of many responsibilities and hidden depths. His piercing gaze fixed on a display of vibrant roses, seeking your opinion on a matter close to his heart - choosing the perfect flowers for a date.

Joel, a handsome billionaire with a company to run, a daughter to care for, and a brother to watch over, often sought your counsel on matters both personal and professional. Whether it was a crucial business decision or selecting a gift for Sarah's upcoming birthday, he valued your input more than he let on.

You studied the roses with a critical eye, your brows furrowing slightly as you considered the implications of his choice. "I think Lauren will love it," you finally offered, your voice tinged with a hint of reservation at the mention of Joel's recent romantic interest.

The name 'Lauren' left a bitter taste in your mouth, a woman who seemed more interested in Joel's wealth and status than in him as a person. You couldn't shake the feeling that she was using him for her own gain, and the thought of Joel falling for her facade made your stomach churn.

Joel's keen observation didn't miss the subtle shift in your demeanor. "Why are you makin' that face?" he questioned, his narrowed eyes fixed on you with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Your heart raced at being caught off guard, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "What face?" you attempted to deflect, but Joel saw through your facade with unnerving accuracy.

"The one you make when you don't like somethin'. You're scrunchin' your nose and everythin'," he pointed out, his gesture leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Caught in his perceptive gaze, you struggled to find the right words, knowing that you couldn't deceive him. There was an unspoken connection between you, a bond that transcended the boundaries of employer and assistant, leaving you feeling both exhilarated and unnerved by his proximity.

Joel's expectant gaze bore into you, his hand resting casually on his hip as he awaited your response, a subtle sign of his contemplation or frustration. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a silent understanding passing between you as you navigated the delicate dance of honesty and restraint in your shared space.

You settled for the truth, pinching your lips as if you were thinking how to phrase the next few words, eventually meeting his brown eyes and saying, "I don't like roses." The words hung in the air, a confession that felt both liberating and terrifying.

Joel's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Before he could respond, you cut him off, rambling on in a nervous attempt to clarify your thoughts. "I know, I know, it's just... my preference. It's not that I don't find them pretty... I do. It's just, sometimes it feels like there's no thought into getting someone roses."

You really should shut up, but you couldn't stop, your words tumbling out in a rush. "That's not to say you're not like putting in the effort to get Lauren... roses or something. It's just there's a whole language to flowers and their meaning, and there's definitely more options than just a whole bouquet of roses."

The silence that followed was oppressive, Joel's eyes roaming all over your figure as if taking in every detail. You felt like you were going to vomit, because there was no way you had just told your boss that he wasn't being thoughtful as he was getting the bitch flowers.

"What d'you like then?" Joel's deep voice asked, his tone low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine. You took a moment to formulate an answer, your heart racing with anticipation.

"Red Peonies," you swallowed, the words feeling like a revelation.

"Why?" Joel asked, his eyes never leaving yours, and you swear he took a small step closer to you, the distance between you shrinking to almost nothing.

"Besides it representing love, it also represents passion, honour and respect," you explained, trying to sound calm despite the turmoil inside. "There's just something more to it, I guess."

The air was tense, Joel's gaze burning into you like a brand. You felt like you were drowning in the depths of his eyes, the silence between you a palpable thing. You knew you should look away, but you couldn't, your gaze locked onto his as if drawn by an unseen force.

The world around you melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of raw emotion. You knew that you had crossed a line, but you couldn't help the way you felt. The truth was out, and now you just had to face the consequences.

The sharp chime of a phone shattered the charged silence between you, pulling you both back to the reality of the moment. You reluctantly pulled out your phone, a sigh escaping your lips as you delivered the news. "Your 3 p.m. meeting with Bill and Frank is coming up. We should buy those roses and go—"

But before you could finish, Joel interjected, his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of reluctance. "We can come back for them later."

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard by his sudden change of heart. Quickly regaining your composure, you slipped back into your assistant mode. "I could have them delivered and—"

"Don't worry about it, darlin'," Joel cut you off, his deep Southern drawl sending a shiver down your spine. "Let's go to the damn meeting before Tess starts tellin' me off again."

Without another word, Joel strode towards the waiting car, the driver opening the door as you followed, slipping into the plush leather seat beside him. The tension in the air was palpable, the unspoken emotions between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

As the car pulled away from the curb, you found yourself acutely aware of Joel's presence, his warmth and the subtle scent of his cologne enveloping you. The silence stretched on, neither of you quite sure how to navigate the charged atmosphere that had settled over the two of you.

You stole a glance at Joel, his brow furrowed in thought, his fingers drumming a restless rhythm on the armrest. You longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had suddenly opened between you, but the weight of your professional relationship held you back.

The drive to the office was a blur, the familiar sights and sounds of the city passing by in a haze as your mind raced with a thousand unspoken thoughts. When the car finally pulled to a stop, you both exited in silence, the weight of the unresolved tension hanging heavy in the air.

As you made your way through the bustling lobby, Joel's hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You couldn't help but wonder if the touch was intentional, a silent acknowledgment of the connection that simmered beneath the surface.

But as you turned to leave, Joel's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Darlin'," he murmured, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "We need to talk."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, unsure of what could possibly be running through Joel's mind. The intensity of his gaze only added to the butterflies in your stomach, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of hope and trepidation at what he might say.

"What is it, Joel?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside you.

He took a step closer to you, his expression serious as he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you couldn't help but lean into it.

"I can't ignore this any longer," Joel began, his voice low and full of raw emotion. "I've been trying to fight it, but I can't deny how I feel about you any longer."

Your breath caught in your throat as he spoke those words, a rush of emotions flooding through you. Could it be possible that Joel felt the same way about you? Or was this all just some cruel joke?

"Joel..." You started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No, let me finish," he said firmly. "Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to get you out of my head. And when we spent that night together at the charity event...I knew then that I had feelings for you."

You were speechless, unable to believe what was happening. You had harbored secret feelings for Joel for so long and never thought they would be reciprocated.

"I know there's the whole boss-assistant dynamic between us," Joel continued with a small self-deprecating smile. "But I can't let that hold me back from telling you how I feel."

A mix of emotions swirled inside you, and you couldn't help but feel torn. On one hand, you wanted to give into the feelings that had been building between you and Joel for so long. But on the other hand, the thought of risking your professional relationship and possibly even your job was a daunting prospect.

"Joel, I-I don't know what to say," you stammered, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't have to say anything right now," he said softly. "I just needed to tell you how I feel."

Silence fell between you as you both stood there, lost in your own thoughts. You were torn between what your heart wanted and what your head was telling you was logical.

Finally, after what felt like hours, you gathered the courage to speak again. "Joel, I care about you too," you admitted quietly. "But there are so many complications..."

"I know," he said with a sad smile. "But we can figure it out together."

His words filled you with hope and warmth, but at the same time fear also crept in. You knew that pursuing a romantic relationship with Joel would be risky and could potentially cause problems at work.

Before either of you could say more, there was a knock on Joel's office door. Startled out of your reverie, you both turned to see Chelsea peeking her head inside.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt," she said apologetically. "But, Mr. Miller, we have that meeting with McKenna about the upcoming merger in 10 minutes."

After Chelsea left, Joel turned back to you, a hopeful expression on his face. "Can I see you later? Outside of work, I mean."

Your heart raced at the thought of spending more time with him outside of the office. You knew it was risky and could potentially cause problems, but the thrill of taking a chance with Joel was too enticing to resist.

"I'd like that...a lot," you replied, unable to stop a small smile from forming on your lips.

His face lit up at your response and he took a step closer towards you. "Can I kiss you?" he asked hesitantly.

You nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."

Without any hesitation, Joel leaned down and gently pressed his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss at first, but quickly became more passionate as the chemistry between you two intensified. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.

Eventually, the need for air forced you both to pull away. You gazed into each other's eyes, both panting slightly from the intensity of the moment.

"I should go," you said reluctantly.

Joel nodded and gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go. "I'll see you later then? I’ll meet you at your place.”

You smiled and nodded before heading out of his office. As you walked back to your own desk, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and what this could all mean for your future.

Later that evening, as you heard a knock at your door, you couldn't help but feel excited and nervous. You had been thinking about Joel all day and now here he was, standing outside your door with a beautiful bouquet of peonies.

You quickly peeked through the door viewer, confirming that it was indeed Joel standing there. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi Sweetheart," he said with his perfect smile, his dimple making an appearance on the left corner of his cheek.

"Hey," you replied with a bashful smile. "Come in."

Joel stepped inside, holding out the vase of peonies towards you. "I brought these for you," he said, his eyes sparkling with affection.

You took them from him and breathed in their sweet scent. "Oh, Joel, you remembered.”

"Anythin’ for you," Joel said with a small grin.

You couldn't help but feel touched by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you for remembering. They're beautiful. Thank you."

He shrugged nonchalantly before turning to take off his shoes. "So what should we do tonight? I can cook us dinner or we could go out somewhere if you prefer."

The idea of Joel cooking for you sounded wonderful, but at the same time, going out together also seemed like an exciting adventure.

"How about we have dinner here tonight and then we can go out tomorrow?" You suggested.

"That sounds perfect," Joel agreed with a smile.

As he prepared dinner in your kitchen, the two of you chatted comfortably about work and other random topics. It felt easy to talk to Joel and be around him, like it was just natural for the two of you to be together.

After enjoying a delicious dinner cooked by Joel (who turned out to be quite the chef), the two of you sat on your couch watching a movie. As the movie played on, you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel, his eyes intense as they flicked between the screen and your face. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows that danced across his features.

Joel shifted slightly, his arm brushing against yours and sending a shiver down your spine. You turned to him, your heart pounding in your chest, and found yourself caught in his gaze. Without a word, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

The world around you faded away as Joel's mouth finally met yours in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume everything in its path. Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate.

You melted into each other, lost in a haze of passion and desire. Clothes were shed in a frenzy of need, skin meeting skin in a symphony of sensation. Joel's touch was electric, sending sparks throughout your body and setting every nerve on fire.

As you lay intertwined on the couch, your breathing heavy and your bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat, Joel's eyes searched yours intensely.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You couldn't form words as he began trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands explored every inch of your body, worshipping you with his touch.

"I want you," you finally managed to say, arching your back as he grazed his teeth along your collarbone.

With a growl, Joel lifted you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. 

He laid you down on the bed with a hunger in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. His hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve and dip as if he was mapping out his favorite treasure. You moaned softly as his lips grazed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Joel's kisses grew more urgent, more demanding, igniting a primal need within you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you whispered his name like a prayer. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth with a fierce intensity that made your head spin.

He teased and tormented you with his touch, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breath hitched as he plunged into you, filling you completely and setting your senses ablaze.

The rhythm between you grew frantic, fueled by a hunger that could not be satisfied. Every thrust brought you closer to the edge, your body yearning for his touch, craving the sweet release that only he could bring.

He whispered filthy words into your ear, his voice gruff and raw with desire. "You want it," he growled, "You need it." His fingers gripped your hips, guiding you onto his shaft with deliberate precision. You groaned, lost in the ecstasy of his touch, your body begging for more.

He kissed you fiercely, his tongue dueling with yours, their movements synchronized with the wild rhythm of their bodies. His hands roamed over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explored every inch of your body with a possessive possessiveness.

You moaned, writhing against him, your body trembling with need, your heart pounding in sync with the frantic beat of his, as he plunged deeper into you with each thrust. Your nails dug into his back, leaving crescent marks that would later serve as a reminder of this night.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as he nuzzled your collarbone, then your chest, and finally your nipples, which hardened under the gentle caress of his tongue. You arched your back, your body craving for more, as his hands cupped your breasts, kneading them with a ferocity that made you gasp.

As he continued to ravage your body, you could feel the heat building between your legs, a fiery ache that begged for relief. Your hips bucked against his, seeking that sweet release, the friction sending spears of pleasure through you. He groaned, his own arousal swelling, and he thrust harder, his hips meshing with yours.

His hands roamed your body, caressing your curves, leaving trails of electricity in their wake. You arched your back, your breasts thrusting forward, begging for his attention. He didn't disappoint, his mouth closing over one taut nipple, teeth gently scraping against the sensitive flesh, while his other hand trailed down your side, slipping between your legs.

Your breath hitched as his fingers found their mark, teasing your swollen folds, sending shivers of anticipation coursing through you. Your body trembled, desperate for his touch, for him to drown you in sensation. He obliged, his fingers delving deeper, slick with your arousal. 

The roughness of his touch against your sensitive skin became a symphony of pleasure, as he slid in and out, his rhythm perfect, his fingers working in unison with the movements of his hips. You could feel yourself nearing the edge, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust.

“Fuck, c’mon darlin, be a good girl, give it to me,” He groaned, as he sensed your impending release and increased the speed of his fingers, sending you over the edge in a wave of pure ecstasy. Your back arched off the bed, your nails digging into his skin as you cried out his name. He followed you over, spilling into you with a guttural moan.

You collapsed onto the bed, spent and breathless, but he wasn't done with you yet. He rolled you onto your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. You felt him smirk against your back before he slammed into you again, filling you up completely.

His pace was rougher now, more primal as he claimed your body as his own. You met each thrust eagerly, reveling in the raw passion that flowed between you.

He reached around to caress your clit, adding another layer of stimulation to the already mind-blowing experience. Your moans and cries filled the room as he drove you both to new heights of pleasure.

As you were both on the verge of climax once again, he flipped you over onto your back and plunged into you one final time. With one hand gripping your thigh and the other tangled in your hair, he pounded into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

When he finally let go and spilled inside of you for a second time, it was like a dam had burst within both of them. You clung to each other as waves of pleasure washed over you both until eventually subsiding.

You lay there tangled together in a sweaty mess, your limbs intertwined as you both fought to catch your breath. The air was thick with the scent of passion, the sheets clinging to your bodies in a sensual embrace. As the haze lifted from your minds and your heart rates slowly returned to normal, you looked up at him and smiled, your eyes shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.

"That was incredible," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the delicate moment.

His lips curved into a satisfied grin, his gaze burning into you with a intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You're incredible," he replied, his voice husky with desire, the words caressing your skin like a lover's touch.

You both lay there for a while, basking in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The sheets were tangled around the two of you, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of being intertwined with him, your bodies still connected in an intimate embrace.

A part of you couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension, a nagging voice in the back of your mind warning you that this was uncharted territory. You were jumping headfirst into the deep end, and the risk of drowning was ever-present. But as you gazed into his eyes, the warmth and affection you saw there quelled your fears, replacing them with a sense of exhilaration and anticipation.

"I can't believe this is happening," you murmured, your fingers tracing the contours of his face, as if to reassure yourself that this was real. "I never thought we'd end up here, but I'm so glad we did."

He chuckled, the deep rumble of his laughter sending a shiver of delight through you. "Darlin', you have no idea how long I've been waitin' for this," he confessed, his hand caressing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the passion that had just consumed them.

You felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you, a mix of joy, trepidation, and a deep, abiding love that threatened to overwhelm you. "I'm scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm also so excited to see where this takes us."

His expression softened, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, reassuring kiss. "I'm here, darlin'," he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. "We'll figure it out, together."

As you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, you knew that no matter the challenges, you would face them side by side. The risk of drowning may have been ever-present, but with him by your side, you were ready to dive in, to explore the depths of this newfound love and see where it would take you.

[letternotekisses]

nghhh your blog has made me think of the idea of Doomfist giving his assistant to Ramattra as a way of bridging an alliance between Talon and Null sector....Ram using the assistant as a little stress toy......help

Akande knows how to sweeten a deal.

He’s negotiated and bartered with so many powerful men that swaying them comes to be like second nature for him, but this time it’s a little different. This is no man and there’s no greedy human nature Akande can target. There is no weakness.

Your heels clack against the glossy mahogany flooring as you patter beside him, clutching important notices and valuable documents close to your chest like they might fly away. And you’re tittering away with a casualness that he’d let no another agent of his get away with, but Akande isn’t the only one listening.

Ramattra tilted his head with something that could only be described as curiosity. Such a small thing, you were. Surrounded by dangerous killers and meticulous assassins that would exploit your every weakness should you let down your guard, yet you led him through the halls with all the grace and confidence of a pampered feline pet.

Nothing you were saying was of any importance to the omnic, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, intently listening to every word that fell from your soft, pouty lips. You were valuable to Akande somehow, special in a way that had Ramattra craving a personal insight.

“My assistant will help you get settled in.”

Akande smiles at him, both knowing and smug as he offers him a key to what Ramattra assumes is the room he’ll be staying in. It is then when the omnic realises he’s been caught staring, but Akande only seems all too pleased.

He’d found his bartering chip, squeezed into an all too tight skirt and a low cut blouse.

—

It’s when you take him to the hilt that Ramattra finally decides on his answer.

Such a soft, sweet little thing you are. Panting into the air as he splays a hand onto your lower back, digging his metal fingers into the fat of your hips to drag you down further. Humans, so malleable, so weak, so soft. Your cunt flutters around the silicone of his cock, sucking him impossibly deeper despite the already snug fit.

“Ambitious, aren’t you?” Ramattra snarls, shifting his hips forward to bump the fat tip of his cock deeper, to bully himself into the softest parts of you. You’re whimpering into the satin sheets like a bitch in heat and it urges him to break you, to cup the soft pudge of your tummy and force himself as deep as he could ever possibly go.

Ramattra had little need for pleasures of the flesh, but there was something all too gratifying about watching you urge yourself on something much too big for you to take. For someone so insignificant, Ramattra was all too tempted to indulge in you, after all, you’d all but been handed over to him on a silver platter.

“Please..” You whine, your begging quickly silenced by a powerful pump of his hips, the cables attached to his head falling past his shoulders in disheveled waves. He wants to tear into your softness. Bury himself inside you and never come back out. He’d give Akande all of the resources he could want just for a few extra minutes between your plush thighs.

He all but cackles, the noise deep and synthetic as he watches your cunt flutter greedily around him. Ramattra pins you down by the back of your neck, revelling in your heat as it bleeds into his hands, warming the metal when he thumbs your nape in a soothing manner.

“Come on my cock, little assistant,” He purrs, his voice staticky with want, “And I will reward your excellence.”

[obxcc]

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ in which you work for drew as his assistant and can’t help but fall for him

pairing . . . drew starkey x assistant!reader

cw . . . profanity , drinking

series masterlist. next chapter.

CHAPTER ONE!

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ your phone

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ drew’s phone

taglist . . . @bradshawed

[cosmicwavelengths]

you're joking, right? (he's not)

minors, dni! - 18+ only

pairing: roman roy x assistant! reader

summary: you spend a weekend away on a business trip with your boss, roman roy, who asks you for an unusual request -- and you pray these are one of those jokes he doesn't actually follow through with. a/n: i swear this started with an innocent "roman gets pussydrunk" prompt i came up with but it spiraled into something completely different - enjoy! cw: smut (fingering, oral, face sitting - reader recieving), dubcon, explicit language (thanks roman), f! reader, roman is your boss wc: 1.7k | masterlist | ao3 ────୨ৎ──── “Did you not hear me the first time?”

Roman sits with a smug smile, arms folded up behind his head and feet on his desk. You shift nervously on your feet, taking sudden interest in the patterned carpet on the floor. “Roman, it’s late and I’m not in the mood for jokes. Please, just tell me what it is you actually want so I can go to bed.” Working for Roman Roy has its perks, but you often find yourself victim to his ridiculous antics. But this? This has to be the worst one by far.

He huffs out a chuckle before sitting up, putting his elbows on the table. “Are you slow? You really want me to repeat myself again? Just, fuckin’-, look here.” He rises and walks over to you, standing closer than you’d like. “I said, I am going to lie down—” He pauses, gesturing dramatically towards the bed next to him. “And I want you to pull down those little panties of yours—” He taps your hip where your underwear sits. You recoil from his touch. “—so you can sit on my face.”

You can’t convince yourself that he is joking by this point. You glance up at him. His eyes are dark with mischief, neck slightly tense. He leans back from you, throwing his arms out. “C’mon, don’t be a fuckin’ prude. And I’m not joking. Just pull off your little shorts and sit on my face, that’s all,” he all but whines, as if he were a petulant, spoiled child. You sigh at that, folding your arms. “Roman. Stop playing with me. Now, unless you have something you actually need, I’m going to go.” You turn to leave, but Roman grabs your wrist with a quickness, tightening his grip. He spins you around to face him, putting you much closer to him than you were before. “No, no, no. You’re not fuckin’ going anywhere. Whatever you think you’re gonna do, you’re not, so cut it out.” At that, he pulls you in for a hurried kiss. You’re unsure you can really call it a kiss, though, he all but bites your mouth, tugging your bottom lip with his incisors and causing them to bleed a bit.

You pull away quickly, face flushing with embarrassment. “Roman! What are you— Why?” Suddenly, you’ve never felt more alone in your life. You left your phone in your room, keycard on the desk. You have nowhere to run. At this realization, tears begin to prickle at your eyes. “I don’t want to, please don’t make me…” You trail off, words breaking off into a small sob. Concerningly, Roman seems unmoved by your unnatural display of overt emotion. He hushes you, bringing up his other hand to wipe away a tear that had rolled down your cheek. “Oh, don’t cry like that. Just take off your shorts.”

You really begin to cry now, genuine fear striking through you. You shake your head rapidly as one last plea to let you go. “No, no, please, Roman?” Losing his patience, Roman grabs you by the waist and pushes you on the bed underneath him. His hands roam all over your body, teeth coming up to graze your earlobe. “Don’t you make me ask again,” he grunts into your ear, hands having found the edge of your waistband. With quick movements, he yanks down your pajama shorts and panties, having exposed your slit, unwillingly slick with your arousal. “Shit, you’re actually wet? You’re a sick slut, y’know that? Getting off on me having my way with you…” You let out a sob of fear and pleasure as he drags a gentle finger through your folds.

You slide up to move away from him, but a firm hand on your stomach keeps you in your place. “Please don’t, Roman…” you try again, weakly, falling victim to the attention his thumb is giving your clit. You let out a quiet moan. “No, shut the fuck up and take it. Besides, why are you asking me to stop when you’re clearly enjoying it?” He drags his hand up your shirt for your tits, beginning to fiddle with one of your hardening nipples. You reluctantly arch into his touch, biting your kiss bitten lip to hold in a groan. At that, he teases your entrance with the tips of his middle and ring fingers, tracing the outside and barely dipping in. You throw your head back with pleasure. “Please, Roman?” you whine out quietly, a voice almost foreign to you. Roman stifles a laugh, so as to not humiliate you further. How kind. “Holy fuck, no way you’re actually begging me, now. Don’t be scared, just let me in.”

He shoves his digits in your cunt, causing you to cry out. His fingers reach that soft, spongy spot of your walls, causing you to flutter around his fingers and keen loudly for him. “Fuck,” you groan to yourself, eyes rolling back into your head. Roman angles his head to look at you, movements slowing down slightly. “You don’t need to beg me, sweetheart. I’m going to give you exactly what you need,” he says smugly. At that, he pistons in and out of your pussy. “You take my fingers like a fucking slut, I can feel the way your cunt mouths at my fingers,” he mumbles to himself, locked in to the way you’re being stuffed full of him. You babble mindlessly, getting closer and closer to release. He twists his fingers in a particular way and he makes you cum, loudly and pathetically. Your hips buck with reckless abandon, and your bones feel like they’ll dissolve under the extreme pressure at your core. When you’ve come down from your high you lie still against the bed, tired and breathless.

Roman pulls his fingers out of you, eyeing the way your arousal coats his fingers. He brings them up to his mouth for a taste. “Wow,” he states breathlessly, having fingered you rather aggressively. “You’re a shitty liar if you said you didn’t want that.” You remain quiet, still shocked by his initial aggressive demeanor towards you. You lean up on your elbows to look at him, dazed. “Okay, Roman, you’ve had your fun. Can I go to bed now?” He kisses his teeth, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. Besides, I haven’t actually had my fun until you sit on my face.” You offer a shy smile at that, hoping it will deter him from continuing to be pushy. “I don’t want to suffocate you. I mean, what if you can’t breathe?”

He sinks down on the bed so his face hovers above your pussy. His hands slide up, holding you open for him. He gazes at your glistening cunt, arousal stewing deep inside of him. “Then I’ll have to worry about that when, or If, that becomes a problem.” Suddenly, he hooks his arms around your thighs and rolls over so you’re on top of him. Even though you’re more or less the same size, you thought he wouldn't have had that much strength. He moans underneath you, sending shocks of vibrations through your clit and up your spine. You shudder with arousal, causing your thighs to shake.

“God, your pussy is so perfect f’me. Just like I imagined.” He eats you out wildly, tongue gliding through your folds and circling around your bundle of nerves at the top. You bring your hands up to hide your face out of embarrassment as you rock your hips gently against his mouth. “Hey-hey, keep your hands down, I want to see you cum.” His eyes fix darkly on you, “Be a good little assistant for your boss and take your hands down.” He sucks obscenely at your clit, causing your back to arch deeply and make you hold onto the headboard for support.

His hands slide up your hips, digging his fingertips into your flesh. “Roman, Oh God, Roman, please make me cum! Please?” you beg, still grinding on his tongue. He groans again, sending another flash of ecstasy through you. He pushes you up to get room to speak, “Fuck, be a good girl and cum for me.” Sitting you back down, his tongue flicks out again over your clit, aggressively shoving you over the edge. You shatter above him, waves of bliss coursing through your body. Your hips rock uncontrollably, unknowingly causing your arousal to spread across Roman’s face. He drinks up your orgasm, lapping at your hole as you ride out your orgasm. When you finish, you flop over unceremoniously next to him, legs going limp. Roman sits up on his elbows as he tries to catch his breath. 

You roll over to look at him and you see how your orgasm soaks his face and absolutely ruined his dress shirt. Your face blushes deeply as you scramble for an apology. “Roman, I’m so sorry about the shirt, I really didn’t mean to—”

He waves in your direction, silencing you. “Eh, it’s fine. I’ll just take the dry cleaning costs out of your next paycheck,” he says with a hint of bland humor in his voice. You pout at that, knowing that the few things he actually jokes about is your compensation. He throws a cunning look in your direction, filled with promise which makes you feel uneasy. “I guess that means you’ll have to make it up to me next time.”

--

The following week, you’re back at your desk at the New York office, typing away and organizing documents. Hearing a knock at your door, you stand up and round your desk to investigate. Upon opening the door, your vision is taken up by a huge bouquet of roses, about two or three dozen you think. The delivery man, struggling to hold the heavy vase, sets it down with a huff in front of you. After confirming your identity with him, he walks away trying to catch his breath.

You lean down, noticing a small white card buried in the petals of the flowers. Opening it, reading the  tiny letters printed in the card makes you feel light headed. Round two in Stockholm next week? — RR

[maitadori]

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER sfw jing yuan x afab!reader

word count : 1.1k

content / cw : fluff, suggestive, making out, smug and teasing jing yuan, cutie yanqing

summary : being the general’s secretary is such a piece of work. why does he insist on getting handsy instead of doing his job? or: in which jing yuan has fallen for his emotionally constipated assistant and your lips look too inviting.

a/n: DISCLAIMERRR!!!! as a poc with melanin, whenever i describe the reader’s face as “hot” that is up for interpretation, it doesn’t necessarily mean i’m saying your cheeks are red. just wanted to put that out there have this piece until i can try to conjure up ideas for weak willed cloud knight mwah mwah

DARK CONTENT BLOGS PLZ DNI!!!

“general.” you enter the room with a stack of papers in hand, trying your best not to groan when you already see a pile of undone documents sitting there. you expected as much, yet you still sighed in disappointment every time.

your general— who was on the verge of falling asleep— immediately perks up at the familiar click of your shoes as you walk into his office.

“[name], you’re here,” he sighs out, almost fondly. you ignore it in favor of giving him a scolding look.

“you haven’t done a thing since i left this morning, general. do i need to hold your hand through every single file?” your eyes are fierce and your mouth is molded into a frown. jing yuan can’t help but savor your features despite that.

in response to you, he mutters out wistfully, “maybe you do.”

you roll your eyes and set down his papers, right next to the other stack. “general, you can’t keep slacking off like this. lady fu xuan might sweep your position from right under your nose if you keep this up.”

“does that mean i get to spend all of my free time with you?” he ignores your words in favor of bringing you in by the waist. you grip his wrist and try your hardest to pry it off of you.

“don’t you do that already?!” your expression is flushed and he revels in it. even though you try to act and look angry, he notices the subtle way you lean into him.

he reels you into him, bringing you around his desk to where he’s sitting behind in his chair, making you stand between his legs. you’re tugged into his chest and you stop yourself from toppling into his lap by hastily pressing your hands against his collarbones.

“general! you are so inappropriate!!” your tone is scolding.

jing yuan sighs, a faux look of sorrow painting his features, “didn’t i tell you to call me jing yuan?” his voice has a small adoring tone to it, something that you don’t feel like digging deep into at the moment, aware of what you might uncover.

“didnt i tell you that’s improper of me? i’m your subordinate. what would people think if i called you by your given name? they’d suspect you favor me.” you shook your head in exasperation, sighing once more— you seemed to do that a lot in his presence.

“but you are my favorite, if they suspected anything of the sort they’d be absolutely correct,” he says, tugging on your formal wear. you stammer, putting your hand over his in a feeble way to stop him.

“could you shut up for once?!” you exclaim, yet in a whispery voice in fear of others who walk by hear.

“hmm?” he asks slyly, a smirk curling his lips.

“d—do your damn work! if you do, i promise to call you by your name.” by your face expression, jing yuan could tell this is taking a lot out of you and you’re extremely embarrassed. he would feel bad if he didn’t find you so adorable.

“will you let me kiss you, too?” he leans up into your lips.

“that’s definitely asking for too much!!!” you exclaim, face hot, and no longer worried about who might be outside this door.

but as he rubs circles into the fabric of your clothing, his breath hitting your cheeks, his lips nearing yours by the moment, your will is beginning to falter. before you can even realize what you’re doing, your eyes are slipping shut as your hands are sliding up to his shoulders.

“after this i’ll do my work, okay? i promise,” jing yuan whispers. from that alone, you’re nearly broken out of your trance, but before a word is able to leave your mouth his lips lock with yours.

he’s humming into the kiss, showing his obvious satisfaction. your face is warm and you reciprocate the kiss eagerly, almost embarrassed by the fervor.

you were really kissing your general.

he was nibbling your lips, pinching your waist to get access to your mouth, making your mind mush. you couldn’t believe this was happening.

jing yuan is stealing the breath straight from your lungs, and they’re replaced with breathy whimpers. his tongue is leaving no place in your mouth untouched, but by then, you’re already putty in his hold.

you can’t conjure up a single coherent thought, all protests from before becoming blurred and pushed to the back of your mind. his hand is at the seams of your top, his cold fingertips ghosting under it to ease his hands onto your warm skin. you shiver in anticipation.

his thumb rubs your waist before it slowly trails up to the fringe of your bra. he’s caressing the skin under it slowly, building you up for the moment his hand ventures under. you’re leaning into him further, trying to subtly goad him into giving in.

he smirks into the kiss, thumb sliding under the hem. but a loud, eager knock makes you both jolt apart.

before you can even comprehend the situation fully, you’re already backing away from him and adjusting your clothing, smoothening everything over.

jing yuan is watching you fondly, a tinge of smugness swimming beneath his eyes.

“state your name and business.” he calls out, eyes still on you.

“it’s yanqing, sir!”

you’re making eye contact with him now, your expression filled with flushed fury. “i cant believe you!” you whisper shouted before grabbing the small hand mirror that yanqing left on his desk to check your appearance.

your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets once you catch sight of your swollen lips. “y—you..! how— i..!!! ugh!!!” you sputter, pointing between yourself and your general before giving up.

your general does nothing but chuckle at your misery. “i got too carried away.”

“don’t you always!?” you growl, your finger against your lips as you somehow try to get rid of the red puffiness.

“general?” yanqing calls from outside.

due to your conversation, you both nearly forgot he was even there.

before jing yuan could call him in, you’re stalking towards the door. your hand grabs the handle, but before you pull it open, you look back to your general who’s smirking. “you better do your work, jing yuan. or this will never happen again!” you both sensed the lie in your tone, but one of you was too surprised to point it out.

you were only given a mere second to revel in his baffled look before you walked out, letting yanqing in.

“[name]!” yanqing calls happily. “can i come over to your place tonight?” he asks, face glowing.

you smile, patting his head. “of course you can. i’ll cook your favorite too, alright?”

yanqing cheers, “alright!! i’ll train as hard as i can, so can you please make dessert too?”

you give him a noise of confirmation, smiling at his joy before you’re walking off.

jing yuan could only watch the scene in envy, glaring down yanqing as he practically skips into the office humming a tune of “[name]’s making me dessert~”.

yanqing turns to his general, brow quirking at his troubled expression.

“what got your panties in a twist?”

“nothing.” he grits out. you had the audacity to call him by his name in your beautiful alluring voice, and invite yanqing to your house, in front of him!! next time he saw you it was more than your lips he was taking for his own.

a/n : anyone wanna be added to my jing yuan taglist? he’s been growing on me a lot so expect more of him too ^v^

[nottswitch]

⌗ CEO!THEO X ASSISTANT!READER ᭝

── 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫.

ceo!theo tries at first. cross his heart and hope to die, he tries hard to resist, fully aware of the fact that his attraction is highly unethical, that he could get in trouble if the nature of their relationship ever comes out. yet he’s still a simple man, and he can’t find it in himself to keep his composure when assistant!reader comes to his office in a tightly fitting blouse; her pencil skirts drive him up the wall, and every time he looks at her countless blazers, the only urge he has is to rip them off her body. his gaze is always intense, and at some point, he completely gives up on the pointless facade. but other than desire, he wants to take care of her; he wants her to be his, so that the job wouldn’t be an obstacle anymore.

assistant!reader is far less concerned about the unethical aspect of her infatuation. theo suspects, and she knows for a fact that every single time her cleavage is showing a bit too much, every time the slit on her skirt borders on unprofessional, every time her dress pants are a bit too tight around the hips – it’s completely deliberate. she does her best to remain nonchalant, as if she doesn’t know exactly what she’s doing, but every single move of hers is calculated, aimed to take down theo’s walls brick by brick and give into the tension that heavily lingers between them whenever they’re in each other’s proximity. and she just knows she will succeed.

nav. au. more.

[ifancyharry]

Ever since New York

what it is: in which YN is Harry Styles's personal assistant, but maybe she should quit her job?

September.

Harry was running late. He knew he was running late because he didn’t even have the time to check on his phone how much late he was running. He hated being late. It wasn’t really in his character. In his manners. It’s not because he didn’t like people waiting on him, he loves being the center of attention; he loves having all eyes on him when he enters a room.

He just didn’t like being late because of the wasted time. Wasted time he took off work. And as of right now, work was pretty much his life. His purpose. 

So being late, was kind of a big deal to him.

Y/N, on the other hand, was used to being late. And she, too, hated it. She hated the attention it came with it. But it was just in her nature, not because she wanted it, but because it happened to her. Like this morning. Her go-to local Starbucks was swamped with people, and she really wanted a pumpkin spice latte, since it was almost the beginning of fall and she still hadn’t had one. 

So, it’s not like she could skip the coffee run. But said coffee run took longer than expected and made her late to her job interview. On top of that, once she exited the cafe, winning cup of coffee slightly burning her hand, it started raining, and of course she hadn’t bought her umbrella, because who brings an umbrella to a job interview?, and plus she really couldn’t be bothered to carry the weight of said object with her all around New York.

So, when she enters the Madison Square Garden Arena, she’s soaked. She almost can hear the squishy sound her Converse make as she walks, her socks feeling rather scratchy against her skin.

She jogs a little towards the backstage area, trying to recall what was said on the email that was sent to her with all the interview details. She’s breathing heavily through her nose, not really used to all the running she had to endure, and she feels hot. She’s positive the heater is on and the sudden contrast with the chilly September air makes her coat feel too warm and her jeans too tight.

She takes a moment to stop herself, trying to calm her heart and breathing down as she takes small sips of her drink. She’s already late, soaked, and sweaty, she might as well enjoy her well awaited drink in peace. She’s sure she’s not going to get the job, anyway. Leave it to her to think she’d fail before even trying.

Harry Styles personal assistant? Yes, she’s known to be a dreamer, but not to that extent. When her friend Anna had told her that her boyfriend had a friend that went to college with Jeff Azoff (she didn’t even know that said Jeff went to college), that he was looking for trustworthy people who could be fit for the job and that he had recommended YN, she thought Anna was pulling a sad excuse of a prank on her. Little did she know, about ten days later, she’d gotten an email from Jeff himself where he asked her if she was down for a little get-to-know-me interview.

Anna knew how much YN needed the job.Young, jobless, and living in New York didn’t really go together too well, and she knew that YN wanted to save as much money as possible to fulfill her life’s dream of studying art in Florence, so she pressured her friend to at least go to the interview. So that’s how she got herself in this situation, sipping her coffee while she regained her breath.

She’s so lost in her own train of thoughts that she doesn’t even realize she stopped in the middle of a hallway. She’s reading a flyer on the wall absentmindedly when she’s hit by a big, sturdy object that makes her loose her balance. She tries to grip her hands onto something to gain some kind of balance, but that only results in her coffee exploding from its own paper cup that she squeezed too hard, the cap flying off and falling on the ground.

“Fuck!” She exclaims as her bum hits the floor with a loud thump. She can feel the coffee on her coat and all over her hands as she raises her eyes from her pumpkin scented, soaked coat and lays her sight on what she thought was an object, but was, actually, a person. Her employer, more like. If she wasn’t convinced enough that she wasn’t going to get the job, she’s sure as hell now. 

“What the fuck!” Harry, who had been running really fast to try and get on time to this stupid interview he had to endure, really hadn’t taken in consideration that someone could be standing in the middle of the hallway he was running down on. 

So, he really thought it was safe to run and check his phone at the same time; big mistake.

It’s not like he was checking his phone for his own personal business, he was just texting Jeff that he was on his way.

“Who stands in the middle of a fucking hallway!” He shouts, but he isn’t even looking at her as he speaks. He’s looking at his shirt, that now has a big, beige colored, stain on it. 

He grips the hem of the shirt with his hands and brings the stained part to his nose, which he scrunches immediately in disgust: “is this regular milk? God, it’s making me sick”.

YN really couldn’t get anything out of her mouth as she slowly gets up from her position on the floor and raises to her feet. She knows she’s supposed to say something, maybe apologize, but it suddenly feels like she doesn’t know how to talk anymore. She’s afraid, if she speaks, she’d blabber something incoherent and make a fool out of herself. Not that she didn’t already.

Plus,  if she’s really being honest, he kind of sounds like an asshole, so she’s not particularly keen on begging for his forgiveness.

“If you were walking like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened!” She murmurs, but he’s already too far out of reach to hear, otherwise she’s sure he would’ve said something else. She heavily sighs as she walks behind him, careful to leave a big amount of space between them so it doesn’t look like she’s following him.

When she enters the room, after knocking gently on the door, he’s already sat on the chair next to Jeff, a bunch of papers scattered on the desk in front of them. 

She clears her throat a little and Jeff raises his eyes to her, giving her a small smile and gesturing to the chair in front of them. 

Harry, arm bent at the elbow, one hand under the table and the other holding his phone, doesn’t bother to look at who came in until he’s finished reading his emails. He wouldn’t have to read his emails if he hadn’t wasted his time by being late, and mostly by being tackled by a wet puppy looking girl and her stupid pumpkin spice latte. The said pumpkin spice latte that is all over his designer shirt.

When he finally raises his glance, he’s met with a pair of big, wide eyes that remind him of those of a scared deer caught in headlights, and there’s no hint of a joke in his tone as he says: “fuck no.”

...

YN wonders whether she should quit.

It’s not her fault, really, and it’s not like she isn’t trying. She thinks she’s doing a fairly good job.

She’s trying really hard to make up for the coffee incident, and she begged Harry to tell her where he got his shirt so she could at least repurchase it for him, but once he’d told her it was Gucci, she realized it cost more than her rent so she let it go… trying the best she could to watch where she was going as to not repeat the accident again.

Harry is… well, he’s kind of difficult to work with.

She doesn’t know whether it’s because of the coffee incident or because he just doesn’t like her, but he’s really stand-offish.

He doesn’t talk much to her — only when the work demands it, and at first it was fine, YN understood why he’d act like that, but now it’s just getting kind of frustrating, especially because he’s making her job ten times harder than it already is.

She’s determined to show him that just because they started off on the wrong foot, she’s not just some clumsy little girl that had to have friends in the right places to get a job!

“Harry?” She trails off, peeking her head inside his dressing room.

He’s sitting on the couch, his back bent down and his hands fiddling with his shoe laces.

YN notices he’s dressed in his workout clothes (a pair of Nike shorts and a black tee), and she wonders whether he’s going to the gym? Maybe back at the hotel? It would be rather bothersome to go all the way back but she doesn’t say anything since it’s not her place.

When he hears her he raises his head to look at her, his brows hiking up high on his forehead. YN wonders why he’s even surprised to see her… she’s been on his ass for a month straight now, never really leaving his side unless when necessary.

“Hey” he greets her, nodding his head towards her.

“I finished everything you asked me t’do” she smiles, and if she wasn’t sure he’d find a way to piss her off, she would’ve felt at least somewhat triumphant. But she doesn’t.

Because she knows Harry doesn’t like her, so no matter what she does, it will never be good enough to redeem herself.

“Everything, really?” He asks surprised, “hav’you folded all the merch like I asked?” When YN nods he goes on, “ironed my outfit?” She nods once again, “and ‘s my schedule ready for tomorrow?”

“Yes.” She nods swiftly, “I even color coded it” she grins.

He seems to think a bit about his next words, and then, “okay, then. Help me work out, will ya?” he says, refraining himself from smiling a mischievous smile at the sound of her groan.

He’s sure it wasn’t intentional, and she feels extremely embarrassed and hopes he hasn’t noticed or at least won’t call her out on it.

“Let’s go, YN, I don’t have all day” he chuckles darkly, patting her on the cheek as he walks past her.

YN knows she should definitely quit.

...

“What the hell is this! I thought ye said it was all done?”

YN really feels like she could cry. She’s 22 years old and she’s on the verge of crying on her job. A job she begged God to get, a job that’s fundamental to get her in the art school she’s always dreamed of. 

Things haven’t been easy. 

Harry has been a dick to her every day and there’s only so much one can take. 

He’s mean, rude, and always cold. He never smiles even when she brings him coffee (black with no dairy milk because it nauseates him), he never praises her (not even when she color codes his google calendar), and every time she enters a room he hushes as if he’s telling this great secret she’s not supposed to hear. 

Today has been a long day. 

She’d woken up at 5 am to grab him breakfast (not that he demanded it, but she felt as if she needed to in order for them to start the day on a good note — it hasn’t worked, it seems) and after that, she’d watched him workout at the gym in the hotel, the stuffy room nauseating her to the point where she had to beg him to turn the AC on to let the air change. 

After his workout, she’d made her way to the venue. 

He’s playing at Madison Square Garden tonight, and even if it’s not his first time, the tension could be felt in the air and in the way he huffed and puffed at everything she did. 

It’s her job to take care of the merch stand inside the arena, no matter what city they are in, she has to fold the merch and make the stand presentable and organized, so when the staff comes in before the show everything is neat and clean. 

She’s been doing this for a month now so she knows what Harry likes and how he demands it to be cleaned, and until now nothing about her work had disappointed him. So why is he acting like she’s this major screw up that can’t fold clothes?

It’s not the fact that he’s doubting her that hurts her, it’s the fact that he’s doubting her honesty. 

It was all finished. She had folded all the merch like he asked and the stand was in perfectly good tidiness when she left it; sadly, that’s not how Harry had found it, much later and much closer to the show. 

Maybe his pre show jitters made him a little more on edge, because the way he’s stomping his feet and pointing at the merch is making her feel really guilty for not doing her job correctly. Even if it wasn’t her fault, she should’ve checked before telling him she was all done!

“Harry,” she trails off, and she feels pathetic as she hears her voice come out all watery, “I swear, i did like you asked. Why would I lie!” 

She’s almost begging and pleading him, her eyes stinging with the devious tears she’s trying really hard not to let fall. 

“I don’t know why. But why is the stand in this mess? You know this can’t happen before a show, YN!” He reprimands her sternly. 

YN feels like she’s a bad student getting yelled at by her teacher, and she gulps before saying “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry doesn’t cut it now! Tidy here and then sod off!” 

She nods her head quickly and hurries to get back behind the stand, folding the clothes as fast as she can to fix the mess quickly. She hears him walk away with a grunt, and once he’s out of her line of sight she feels the warm tears start falling from her eyes. 

Finally. 

She chokes down a sob as she keeps tidying up, wondering what the hell happened to the very organized stand she’d left. 

Once she’s done, she double checks everything to make sure (just in case) and then she climbs over the counter to get out. She quickly makes her way to the dressing room as she hears the buzzing of the fans standing outside the venue, waiting trepidating for the gates to open, and she’s thankful she’d been fast, otherwise Harry would’ve fired her on the spot. 

She gathers her work bag and tosses all her belongings inside, sneaking out of the door when she realizes Harry is inside the bathroom showering. 

She doesn’t bother to call a Uber. She chooses to walk, hoping that the fresh air could soothe the headache that crying had left her with. 

It’s a little bit chilly, but she welcomes the cold October weather with contentment, finally free of the heat weave that had populated her summer days. She wishes she could enjoy it more, and if it wasn’t for her mood, maybe she would’ve grabbed a little drink and a sweet treat on her way back. But there wasn’t anything sweet about the way Harry had treated her, so she walks sulkily back to the hotel, ready to pack her bags and leave. She’s decided. She doesn’t want to be his assistant for not even another day. 

It had been a long day. 

…

it’s past 11pm when Harry crosses the threshold of his hotel room, immediately tossing his sweaty clothes on the chair next to the small desk. His room is nice, big but not uncomfortably large to the point of making him feel lonely, and his bed is soft just the way he likes it, and he can’t wait to shower and get under the covers, but… there’s something he needs to do first. 

So, he quickly showers and changes into way more comfortable clothes, a pair of black sweats and a grey treat people with kindness hoodie, slipping his vans on and walking immediately out of the door. 

He’d like to say the uneasiness he feels in his belly is hunger (he had only soup for dinner), but it’s definitely not. He’s nervous. And he feels like a dick. And he doesn’t really know what to say to YN to make it up to her. 

Should he say he was just tense because of the show? In his mind he knows that wouldn’t be too believable, because he’s been doing shows for most of his life, and if he acted the way he did before any of them, he probably wouldn’t have many friends. 

As he’s searching for things to say, he hasn’t even realized he ended up in front of her door, the light beige wood dooming on him and almost making fun of him. 

He closes his hand into a fist and knocks on the door, the pit of his stomach prickling. 

YN opens the door almost immediately, and he wonders whether she was waiting for him. 

He knows she wasn’t as soon as he sees her face fall once her eyes land on him. 

She actually looks pretty cute, all snuggly and sleepy dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and sleep shorts, but when she looks up at him he notices her eyes are a faint red color, and his heart tugs in his chest when he realizes she had been crying. 

It was never his intention to make her cry, and he really does feel bad. 

“What?” She asks dismissively, her body still shielding the room from his view. 

“Know ‘s late but… Can I come in?” He asks wryly, his breath coming out in puffs out of his nose as if he had been running. 

“I don’t know” she ponders. 

“Please, YN” 

She takes a moment to reflect and then opens her door wider (he’s technically still her boss), turning to the side to let him in. 

She closes the door behind him and waits for him to talk with her arms crossed against her chest. He doesn’t really know where to start, whether he should address the fact that she’s been crying or how he treated her, so he settles on “how are you?” And he feels stupid as soon as the words leave his mouth. She sniffles before shrugging. 

“Sorry, that was stupid” he pinches the bridge of his nose as he shakes his head. 

YN doesn’t know what happens next. 

She’s probably just tired, and maybe really hurt by how Harry treated her so she… she starts crying. 

She feels her eyes fill with tears, stinging her water line. And it’s really embarrassing but she really doesn’t care. She figures he’s going to fire her anyway so she might as well let it all out. 

She chokes down a sob, turning her head to the side to be as subtle as possible, but he notices straight away, walking quickly towards her. 

“YN please don’t cry” he pleas, stretching a hand out to her to squeeze her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” she sobs, hiding her face and her tears behind her hands, pressing the tip of her fingers to her eyelids. 

Harry really doesn’t know what to do. He thinks of himself as a good person and a good friend but this is different. He’s supposed to be her boss. But, he realizes, he’s also the reason she’s crying, and Harry is everything but cruel, so he tugs her by the shoulder into his chest, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, his hand caressing her back soothingly. 

She sobs into his chest, and “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what happened with that stand. I did everything like you asked”. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay” he comforts. 

To really tell the truth, Harry had forgotten all about the clothes. Yes, he had been pissed about the conditions he found the merch stand in, but she had tided up quickly, so in his mind everything was forgiven. He hadn’t really realized how stern he had come off to her. 

“YN I’m not mad about the merch stand. I’m so sorry I was so rude” 

“No,” she’s quick to object, “I get it, you want everything to be perfect. Trust me I know! But I’m trying my best to make everything perfect like you want” she sniffles, pulling her face away from his chest. 

She dries her face with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, sighing heavily. 

“You’re doing a great—“ he starts, but she interrupts him immediately, “I don’t know how to work with you if you’re like this. You’re probably going to fire me for saying this but I can’t stand this anymore” she shakes her head to reinforce her words. 

“Please don’t say that! I don’t want to fire you! I think you’re doin’ a really good job” 

“Really?” She asks surprised, he’s never really told her that. 

“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I’ve been a dick to you, for this past month. I… I’ve got some trust issues, ya know? and It takes me a while to get accustomed to new people but… I shouldn’t have been so hard on you. It’s not your fault” 

“I thought you kind of hated me” she admits. 

“I could never,” he shakes his head, “I’m so sorry I made you feel that way” 

“Yeah” she sniffles, “you really were a dick” she chuckles once she sees the surprised look on his face. “Plus I’m the only one who knows how to make your little soup” she adds. 

“Oh, you’re right” he agrees, “I could never fire you, then. You’re trapped” 

“Ah! You’re trapped” she giggles, the tears starting to dry on her face and a bit of color returning to her cheeks. 

“But… really, I’m so sorry. I promise it won’t happen again” he says again, looking directly in her eyes to make sure she understands he’s serious.

“Okay” she says softy, sniffling.

“Now” he trails off, “I’m really hungry. Should we go get something to eat?” 

October

“Halloween is not fun.” Harry says, crossing his arms on his chest like a petulant child. 

YN rolls her eyes for what seems like the millionth time, a groan escaping from her parted lips: “but it is!!” She says again. 

The discussion had been opened by Harry himself, claiming he didn’t understand all the excitement YN had claimed to be feeling about Halloween. 

It’s not like he doesn’t like Halloween, he just doesn’t like… scary stuff. 

He hates horror movies and he hates everything paranormal — sure, he loves Twilight (he’s watched it twice already since fall started) but that movie according to him is on a whole other level, and it can’t be described as scary as much as it is angst-y. 

So, when he heard YN all giddy and giggly about this god awful day, he couldn’t just not say what he really thinks of it. Of course she’d love Halloween, Harry thinks. 

“I think you just never truly had the whole Halloween experience” she shrugs from her position on the couch. 

“Trust me,” he says seriously, “I did. Jeff forced me to watch all the Saw movies… it was awful. Couldn’t sleep properly until Christmas” 

YN has to refrain herself from laughing. 

“That’s not what I mean! Watching scary movies is like… the last thing on the list of fun things to do for Halloween” 

“Yeah?” He challenges, turning around in his turning chair to face her, his skin dewy with the moisturizer he’d been massaging on his face. 

“Yes! My favorite is pumpkin painting” she beams excitedly. 

“Pumpkin painting? You have to have made that up” he furrows his brows. 

“What! No! It’s been a thing for… Ugh I don’t know but it’s really fun and I always do it. Come see!” She pats the couch next to her and grabs her phone from the pocket of her hoodie, opening her camera roll and scrolling with her finger until she reaches last year. 

He rolls his eyes at her, getting up from the chair nonetheless. 

He doesn’t sit next to her, instead he towers over her and lowers his head to look at the screen of her phone, his shin touching her knees “ye have a lot of pictures on that damn phone”. 

“Shh!! Here!” She opens the pic and shows it to him: a big pumpkin rests on what seems like a kitchen counter, its previous orange skin painted the brightest shade of pink, with some white splotches of paint that Harry thinks could be little ghosts by their pair of eyes made with two black dots. 

“Wow… that clearly is something…” 

“okay! — she sighs, locking her phone — I didn’t say I was good at it. ‘S just fun an’ I always do it with me mum!” She lifts her head and their eyes lock, his are a bright emerald green today, and she can see herself reflected in them, clearly, and she wonders for a moment how he sees her, what he thinks of her. It lasts only a moment, though, because he averts his gaze quickly, and just as quickly he straightens his posture, towering over her once again. 

“‘S a cute idea” he agrees, taking a step back to put some distance between them. 

YN nods in agreement, picking up her laptop to get back to work immediately. 

Everything is green. 

…

Harry is hiding something. 

He’s been giddy all day and YN noticed first thing in the morning, when she happened to toe his shoe off when he was walking in front of her and he didn’t say anything (it’s the only thing that drives him mad. Like… really mad. He once snapped at her in front of everyone because she kept doing it — accidentally of course). Now, this is not to say Harry can’t have a good day. Since that night in her hotel room, things have been really good between them, and even if their relationship is strictly professional, YN wonders whether a friendship could blossom between them. 

But, she’s also gotten to know him rather well in the two months she’s been working for him, and she knows when he’s hiding something. 

It all started yesterday, when he pretended he had to run some errands alone, and demanded YN stayed at the hotel “to check no one broke into his room” which is a really fucking stupid excuse. When he got back to his room it was late in the night and YN was snacking on some chips, all snuggled up and cozy in his bed, on the verge of falling asleep. 

Nothing seemed different about him since the last time she saw him, and she wondered for a brief minute whether he went out to meet with someone. Having a personal assistant be with you 24/7 can be really invalidating to any romantic relationship someone could want to establish. 

If the only way harry could get a significant other (or even only a sneaky link, YN isn’t one to judge) was to hide from her and demanded her to stay back, it was really pathetic on her part. She pretends like the thought of Harry with someone else doesn’t irritates her. (She’s been stuck all evening in his hotel room while he went out and about!!) 

“Whatcha doin’ in my bed, pet?” He teases once he enters the room, toeing his shoes off and leaving them by the door.

“Your bed is way comfier than mine” she grins, squeezing the comforter closer to her body. 

“I bet” he chuckles. 

“Yeah. But I’m the one working all day so I should get the comfier bed” she shrugs.

“You’re working?” He says, feigning shock as he brings a hand to his chest, “I thought you were my friend willingly!”

“Oh fuck” she sighs, “Jeff told me not to tell you… I must have forgotten” 

“You really are a menace” he chuckles and she giggles, making room for him as he plops down next to her.

“What are ye watchin’?” 

“Just an old episode of How to get away with murder” she says, pressing the “ok” button on the remote to show him the title.

“Never heard of tha’” he furrows his brows, repositioning himself so his legs are stretched out in front of him. 

“You’ve never… what?! That’s crazy! This is probably the best tv show since Grey’s Anatomy went down hill!” 

“Is it scary?” He asks, his brows furrowing on his forehead.

“No, not in that sense at least”

“Okay, then.” He gestures to the remote, “let’s watch it.”

She grins at him and nods, selecting the first episode from the menu. She presses play and when the show starts running, she grabs the chips she was previously nibbling on, putting them between their bodies and telling him that if he wants some to just take them. 

The light from the tv illuminates the otherwise dark room, and YN has to refrain herself from turning her head to look at his profile. 

She smiles Every time he gasps when something unexpected happens, and when the first episode ends, he begs her to put the second straight away. She does, and she listens to his calm breaths that almost lull her to sleep. The bed is comfortable and his warmth from beside her makes her feel safe and soft, and YN thinks it’s really nice he’s doing this with her. She doesn’t stop to wonder what it means. 

…

It’s only the next day that YN gets to finally find out what Harry has been hiding. 

Turns out, he actually wasn’t sneaking out to meet someone behind her back! 

That morning Harry had knocked loudly on her door, tantalizingly sing-songing her name. When she had opened the door, still wearing her pjs and her hair all messy, she had furrowed her brows deeply on her forehead: “Harry!” She had reprimanded him, “it’s 7 in the morning!” 

“Shh, lemme come in” he begged, jumping on his place excitedly. 

He’s wearing his workout clothes and YN knows from his schedule that he has an appointment with his personal trainer at 7.30.

“What’s wrong?” 

“Tonight, after the show, don’t make any plans. I need you for something very serious and very important.” 

And YN would really like to tell him that it’s not like she’d ever make any plans that didn’t revolve around him, but she nods nonetheless, still a bit startled from his irruption in her room that early in the morning. 

That’s how they ended up here, on the floor of his hotel room, probably more than thirty tubes of paint splattered messily in front of them, and two giant pumpkins resting between their legs.

“It’s officially a week before Halloween!” Harry had said, taking the pumpkin out of the bag and showing it to her triumphantly. 

YN had gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth shockingly. Never in a million years would she have thought that was what he planned to do. 

She feels warm inside, like a light has been switched up and is warming all her limbs, her chest, her belly. She doesn’t know if he realizes how much this means to her. 

She carefully takes the pumpkin he’s handing to her and sits cross legged on the floor. He sits down next to her, and their knees are brushing with every movement one of them makes. 

“Pass me the remote, please?” He asks.

She nods and grabs it from the bed behind her, handing it to him. 

“I really need to find out who killed her” he says seriously, turning the tv on. “Is it Sam?”

YN chuckles sitting next to him, shaking her head as she bends her back down to grab a paint brush.

“I’m not tellin’ you! That takes away all the fun” 

“I don’t care, YN. I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me!”

“You’re so dramatic” she giggles.

She hands him a brush too and he thanks her with a mischievous grin, “if I end up dying from exhaustion it’s on you!” 

“Shhh, ‘s startin’” she gestures to the tv and they both turn their head to it.

YN grabs a tube of red paint and opens it, squirting a small pump on the plate Harry had gotten her.

“What are ya making?” He asks her after a while.

“I don’t know” she shrugs, “I was thinking something simple like… red hearts”

“Tha’s cute” he agrees, “should I make it How to get away with murder themed?”

YN starts giggling, pushing his shoulder with hers, “that would be cute I guess”

“I’m just kidding. Although I think I could totally rock that”

“Yeah, you would” she agrees.

Harry ends up making it Mickey Mouse themed, drawing two big red ears a pair of big black eyes. He even helps YN with hers (she settled on something more minimalistic) which is ironic because even though she’s the one that loves art, she’s not really good at it.

Harry even snapped a few pictures to send to his mum, one with YN too, “wait, stay right there. Show the pumpkins!!”

“Harry the paint is still fresh I can’t — ugh fine!” She says lifting her pumpkin by the stem. 

He leans in next to her, their temples almost touching, and Harry snaps the picture, a warm smile on his face, dimples showing and all. “Mum’s gonna love this.”

They watch a couple more episodes of this tv show Harry has gotten obsessed with, and once the clock strikes midnight YN is so exhausted Harry has to finish her pumpkin for her. 

Her eyes are aching and she brings her fingers to press on them, hoping to relieve some of the burning. 

“Everything all right?” He asks turning his head to look at her.

“Yes” she nods, “just forgot my glasses and the tv is hurting my eyes”

“Wait” he tells her, standing up on his feet quickly. He heads over to his bedside table and opens the drawer, rummaging through all the stuff he keeps inside it.

He sits back down after a minute, closer than he was before, and he shows her a pair of glasses, “here”.

She looks at him surprised, and “thank you” she says, grabbing them from his hand and sliding them on.

The glasses are comfortable, with a kind of thick frame, and she understands immediately they are a much better quality than hers.

She’s surprised she can see clearly with them, and she enjoys the much needed rest the glasses provide. She leans her head on the back of the bed behind her and sighs contentedly.

“Better?” He asks.

“Much better.” 

“I didn’t know you wore glasses” he says after a while, his gaze still on the tv, “never seen you wear ‘em”

“Yeah” she agrees, embarrassed, “‘s just… don’t really like the way I look in them. Plus it’s not like I’m completely blind!” She hurries to add “they just get really tired and… yeah”

He turns his head to look at her, his brows furrowed on his forehead and his eyes scrutinizing her face.

She feels embarrassed under his gaze and she squirms imperceptibly in her spot. 

“You look proper cute, actually” he says with a swift nod as to reinforce his words. 

She blushes and prays that he doesn’t notice, mumbling a ‘thank you’ and quickly averting her gaze back to the tv.

She feels once again that warm feeling inside her, but this time it’s all over her body and it’s kind of overwhelming. 

She debates whether she should leave or stay, but Harry’s presence is so comforting beside her, and it’s not like his comment has to mean anything. 

It’s just a compliment. 

Like a friend would to another. Right? 

…

It’s not easy to avoid your boss. 

Harry is everywhere, and it’s not like YN wants to avoid him, it’s just inevitable since she realized she actually has a crush on him. 

On the span of these three days YN tried to tell herself it wasn’t that big of a deal; Harry is handsome, he almost resembles an angel, and he’s funny, and since he’s warmed up to her she realized he’s also nice, and caring, and soft. His smile is bright as the sun. His eyes are a peculiar shade of green she has never seen before and she noticed some nights they turn almost blue and she really would like to ask him why but she figures that’s way overstepping her boundary so she just keeps quiet every time she notices it.

And he’s many things all together. 

And maybe if she avoids him this feeling will go away and everything will go back to normal sooner than later. 

On the fourth day, he catches her on her way back to his dressing room and she almost has an heart attack. She had been so careful up to that point!!! 

She was sure he was still in the shower, and she needed to grab her sweatshirt from the dressing room since it was starting to get chilly, but once she opened the door, there he was, sitting on the couch in only a towel and a sweatshirt. Her sweatshirt. She feels like she could combust any second.

“YN! Hey!” He cheerfully greets her once he notices her, locking his phone and leaving it next to him on the couch.

“Hi, H” she replies “just needed to grab my… sweatshirt” she clears her throat embarrassed, pointing towards his torso.

He looks down to himself and then his eyes widen in surprise, “this one’s yours? I’m so sorry pet, thought ‘t was mine!” 

“Tha’s fine” she shrugs, trying not to dwell too much on the fact that he called her a pet name.

“You wan’ it back?” He asks, grinning.

“No, no that’s fine, I’ll find something else” but before she can even answer he’s already getting up, slipping out of the sweatshirt. He walks towards her and hands it to her, “hav’to get ready soon anyway”.

She nods and as he walks to his clothing rack where his outfit is already displayed, and YN lets her eyes linger for a brief moment on his back, his skin is already moisturized and YN wonders if it feels as soft as it looks, his little moles and freckles look like little constellations on the skin of his back, like the Gods blew stars onto it when they created him, and the color of his skin is almost lunar-like, despite how much sun he gets.

“Feel like I haven’t seen ya in ages” he interrupts the silence after a while, and YN watches as he picks up his tank top from one of the hangers and slips it onto his head.

She nods when he turns to her, the tank top is white and she can see the faint ink of his tattoos, “had so much work to do” she sighs.

“Are you sayin’ I’m overworking you?” He chuckles, and she’s quick to say: “no! No! Just… you know with Harryween coming up there’s so much stuff to do”

“Yeah” he agrees, “maybe tonight we can watch a couple of episodes…?” He questions tentatively. 

YN would really like to say yes. She really would. 

“I’m really tired, Harry…” she trails off, “maybe another night?”

“Yeah of course” he shrugs.

He leans down to slip on his leather trousers, tossing the towel on the couch next to him.

“But you can obviously go on though!! I already know what happened and…”

“What? No! I don’t want to watch it without you, that’s our thing.” He says, shaking his head and furrowing his brows, “‘s okay, I can wait a couple days. Even though I hav’to tell ya… i think I may be in withdrawal… i have been tempted to look up spoilers online”

She giggles at his playfulness, “Harry! I told you not to do that!”

“That’s why I didn’t! But eventually I have to know, I have a couple of ideas on who did it though”

“I’m not saying anything”

“Fine” he groans jokingly, “but you have to admit I deserve an award for putting up with all your torture”

“You’re so dramatic!” She laughs through her teeth.

“Yeah, yeah. Actually!” He starts, and he smiles a malicious smile YN is afraid to know what it means, “everything would be forgiven if you came shopping with me tomorrow”

“Harry! I have so much stuff to do! I can’t just ditch everything to go shopping with you”

“Please!!” He pleas almost like a petulant child, “I don’t want to go alone! ’s boring!”

“Jeff gave me so much stuff… you know how he gets when I don’t get things done” she sighs. She’s still holding the sweatshirt he gave (back) to her, and she squeezes it against her chest.

“Screw Jeff” Harry shrugs, passing a hand through his hair to comb it.

“He’s literally my boss”

“No” he’s quick to say, walking towards her and stopping when he’s in front of her, crossing his arms on his chest “Jeff is your employer. I’m your boss” he chuckles darkly, poking her in the stomach playfully.

“Uggh fine! I’ll come” she sighs, finally giving in to his demand. “But you’re buyin’ me coffee tomorrow”

“Deal” he nods his head swiftly.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a little shove on the shoulder, “see ya after the show! Good luck”

“Thank you pet” he says smiling at her softly.

She gives a small smile back and turns to walk out the door.

Once she’s out, the cold air of the AC hits her, and she’s quick to slip over her head the sweatshirt she actually came to get in the first place.

It’s still warm and his sweet musky scent lingers on it. She buries her nose into it and walks to find Jeff, telling him the new plans for the next day.

…

“I need you to do my makeup”

It’s the 31st of October, just a couple of hours before Harryween, and Harry still isn’t dressed in his Dorothy costume. 

His makeup artist had texted him that she wouldn’t be available to work on Halloween (she has young children and couldn’t miss a chance to spend the holiday with them!), but Harry was so busy he hadn’t paid too much mind to it. He knew if it got to the point where no one else was available, he could do it himself. It’s just makeup, it’s not supposed to be hard.

Well, turns out, it is hard. 

So, YN was really his last hope. 

That’s why he knocked loudly on her hotel door, impatiently waiting for her to open it. 

He heard her groan and then the sound of feet walking quickly towards him. 

“What!” She says before even checking who it was.

“I need you to do my makeup”.

That’s how they ended up in her room, both sitting cross legged on her floor with a bunch of makeup bags opened next to them. 

She would really like to be fussy and pouty about it, because not only he has her working on Halloween (she didn’t specifically ask for the day off, but she figured it wasn’t necessary for her to be at the entire show and he could’ve maybe let her off a little earlier, but, no — he had demanded she stayed through the entirety of the show) plus now she’s going to be late and she probably won’t have time to do her own makeup like she wanted specially for her costume!!

but… how can she possibly complain when he’s sitting in front of her like an obedient puppy, looking at her with curious green eyes every time she takes a product out of her bag?

This little crush she has on him is starting to get out of control! Instead of being annoyed at him she’s referring to him as a cute puppy! what is wrong with her!

“Wha’s that for?” He asks, pointing to the little tube of moisturizer she takes out. 

“Moisturizer. This one’s lighter than the one you use because I have oily skin, but I reckon it could work as well” she pops the cap open and squirts a small amount on the tip of her fingers.

She warms it between her hands before looking at him questioning, silently asking for his permission to touch his face.

He nods immediately once he understands, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Hold your hair for me please” 

He brings a hand to his forehead and tucks away the curls that fell onto it.

YN feels her heart beat hard against her chest as she gets closer to smear the cream onto his face, massaging his cheekbones and his sinuses to ease the product into his skin. 

Harry sighs once she starts massaging his temples, and he makes sure to thank God in his head for his makeup artist and her children, because YN is really gentle.

She has really soft fingers and her touch is delicate, and he thinks she touches him like something fragile that is worth preserving. And he likes the feeling a little too much.

“All done!” She beams, removing her hands from his face (she even dragged the cream onto his neck!).

“Now I think we should do eyebrows” she takes out a small black spoolie and she starts brushing through his brows, “I don’t think yours need much filling.” She ponders, “maybe just in a couple spots we can make ‘em more thick if you’d like”.

He nods, “I’d like that”.

“Okay!” She grabs her pencil and draws a couple of stray hair. 

“Now… I think mascara. And then we’ll do the blush. Close your eyes” she instructs, unscrewing the tube of mascara and removing the excess on the tip. She brings a hand to his eye and presses her thumb to his eyelid, that way she can see his eyelashes better.

She starts coating them with the mascara, first one eye and then the other repeating the same process as well, “your lashes are so long” she whispers, almost to herself, but she hears him chuckle through his nose nonetheless.

“All done!” 

He opens his eyes and they flutter a couple of times, the new added weight of the mascara kind of uncomfortable at first.

Once he gets accustomed to it, he looks at her with his piercing bright green eyes.

YN looks between them as she closes the tube mascara; they’re the deepest shade of green today, and the black coating his lashes is only making them stand out more. 

“Now?” He asks, and she tries to hide her blush as she tilts her head down to rummage through her bag.

“Blush! I’m thinking lots of blush!” 

She takes out a bright cherry blush and “that’s way too red” he protests, furrowing his brows.

She shushes him immediately, “just trust me on this ‘s gonna look so cute!!!” 

This time he doesn’t close his eyes, but he chooses to look at her.

The concentrated expression on her face is really cute, her brows are furrowed as she applies the blush with her fingers (she explained she prefers fingers because brushes can irritate the skin and cause break outs and she doesn’t want that).

He feels her apply some on his nose too, and he involuntarily scrunches it. She giggles at it and then keeps blending the blush on his skin.  

From this angles YN can see he has freckles on his nose, and she doesn’t know why but it makes her feel warm. He seems more real like this, his nose sensitive and with a constellation of freckles on it. She wonders if they get darker in the sun, and she figures she’ll probably know once the summer arrives.

“Looks proper cute!!!” She sighs dreamily, looking at his face to admire the finished look. “I just know your fans will go crazy” she smiles softly.

He grins at her and gets up on his feet, heading for the bathroom to look at himself.

“Fuck I look good!” She hears him say from the bathroom, “the blush is my favorite part”.  

She smiles to herself as she starts tidying her makeup back into the bags, even if it’s pointless really because she has to do her own now.

She gets up from the floor and checks for the time on her phone that’s charging on the bedside table, just as Harry gets out of the bathroom. She still has a hour and a half to get ready, and she thinks she could make it work.

“Thank you again, pet” he smiles down at her and she suddenly feels too hot and breathless.

“It’s okay, no problem at all!” 

…

It’s past midnight once YN finally returns to the hotel. 

A guy from the crew named Peter (he’s a light technician) invited YN to go out with him and his friends, but she’s so tired she declined politely, promising to make up for it another time.

She doesn’t really know what Harry is doing, and she wonders if Peter invited him as well and if perhaps he declined, but she doesn’t have to wonder much because not even half an hour later she hears a knock on her door.

She’s already wearing her Halloween themed Snoopy pajamas, and if it was any other situation she’d probably feel embarrassed, but she’s so tired she just can’t wait to get to bed.

When she opens the door she sees it’s Harry, and she notices — happily — that he’s wearing his pajamas as well (His consist of a pair of plaid pants and a grey hoodie, but still a pajamas nonetheless), and his face is free of the makeup she’d put on him that same afternoon.

He holds in his hands two full grocery bags, and she looks pointedly at him. 

“Can I come in? My arms are starting to get sore”

She nods and moves to the side to let him in, closing the door behind them after. 

“So.” He starts, placing the bags on her bed, “I was about to go to bed when I realized it’s still Halloween”

She furrows her brows at him, “I thought that was like the whole point of Harryween?”

He chuckles at her, “of course, I know. That’s what I’m saying exactly.”

“I don’t follow?”

“I had you work on Halloween! You told me before how much you love Halloween and I didn’t think to give you the day off”

“Oh, Harry. It’s okay, really! Don’t worry about that, it’s stupid!” She says, but not without blushing a little.

She knows it’s just decent courtesy to remember conversations one shared with another, but she says a lot of stuff and she didn’t really think he would remember! Plus, he doesn’t really like Halloween, so she thought he’d actually regard her interest in celebrating it as annoying.

“It’s not stupid” he shakes his head, “I thought to remedy as best I could. But I have to confess, Jeff did the grocery shopping so I can’t take credit for it.”

She giggles and walks closer to the bed, peeking her head to look inside the bags, “it’s okay. You were busy”.

He laughs and nods, spilling the bags onto the bed. An undefined amount of sweets fall on the bed, and YN gasps at how many choices of candies and chocolates Jeff picked out.

“Fuck! i think he got every possible candy available” he snorts.

She agrees with a laugh, “what are we supposed to do with all this food?”

“I know it’s not the best but I thought we could watch a movie and eat it? But if you want to go to sleep that’s fine I mean I-“

He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels embarrassed.

What was he thinking? Walking into her room like a maniac with two bags full of candy and expecting her to be down to watch a movie with him. She works for him. This is entirely not appropriate and he’s aware of that, but… when he saw her on the side of the stage, singing mindlessly along to Golden, dressed as Princess Belle he realized how cruel he had been to take Halloween away from her.

Not only had he deemed it as “not fun” right in front of her enthusiasm, he also specifically requested for her to work, and even if she had not expressed formal complaints, she probably should have.

Because he had been a dick.

So, in his quick pee break, instead of freeing his bladder, he texted Jeff if he could do him a big favor and grab every single candy he could get his hands of, recommending specifically to get as many choices to pick from as he could (he didn’t know what YN liked and he couldn’t risk it).

YN quickly interrupts his train of thoughts, “okay!!! But I get to choose the movie though”

“Okay, -- he nods amused -- Deal. But — he says, picking up the remote from the coffee table to hand it to her — Nothing too spooky”

YN gets comfortable on the bed next to Harry, the candies resting at their feet. He has a package of Sour Patch Kids resting on his tummy, and every time YN wants one she has to move her arm, and it brushes against his chest. 

She feels… weird. It’s weird to her that he would do something like that, and she doesn’t know what to make of it. If it was any other case, if a guy did something like this for her, she’d immediately thought of it as a date, or a way to show interest in her but with Harry… it’s different.

She doesn’t think he likes her like that.

Maybe he sees her as a friend? She doesn’t think she’s particularly fun, but he always chooses to hang out with her, even after a tiring day…

She gets shaken out of her thoughts once she hears him gasp from next to her.

“Oh God, what happened?” She looks at him pointedly.

“I told you no scary movies!” He whines childishly, closing his lips in a pout.

“Harry! ‘S Caroline! It’s not scary!” She can’t help but giggle at him. 

“It’s scary to me” he huffs, taking a candy from the package and popping it into his mouth. He takes another one and shows it to her, which she gladly takes from his fingers. 

“I promise if you get past the scary part it’s really good” 

“Fine” he nods, “I’ll watch it. But please tell me once it gets scary again”

She smiles fondly at him and nods back, “yes, don’t worry about it.”

...

“You know, you were right… once you see past the scary scenes it’s actually a pretty good-“ 

It’s after the movie has finished that Harry realizes YN has fallen asleep next to him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth to bite back a smile, grabbing the remote to shut off the tv.

She must be so tired.

He has her working non stop while she should be out and having fun at her age. She isn’t that much younger than him, but he knows how much can change from your early to your late twenties.

He also knows he should get up from the bed and go sleep in his own one, but… he’s really comfortable right now and she’s really warm next to him, and she smells like candies and vanilla, the perfect scent to lull him to sleep.

He’s also very tired, and before he knows it, his eyes are closing shut and his mind is already wondering to faraway countries, with cotton candy skies and chocolatey grass.

The air smells like vanilla, and he doesn’t know if he’s dreaming or if it’s her next to him, he just knows he was definitely wrong; Halloween isn’t as bad as he thought. 

it's hereeee and it's halloween themed ;))) (!!!!!) let me know what you think and if you want part 2!!!! taglist: @gem1712 @jerseygirlinca @lexiecamposv @ameerakane20 @lovrave @mema10 @sunshinemoonsposts

[maryangelex]

Part 2 of assistant!reader

(or loser!reader but I feel bad lol lmk which you prefer) since you guys loved it so much!

assistant!reader who is shellshocked by the sight of the large masked man who said no words to her but a muffled grunt on her first day on the job.

not to discredit the other 2 boys but you get along the best with your (very gentlemanly and handsome) captain, and when he asks you about how your first day went and you tell him about the “big man with the mask”, all he does is chuckle and tell you how he’s his best man on the team and not to be fooled by his appearance. but of course that’s hard for you to believe.

on your second week working there you see Johnny and Kyle again when they pass by to give their weekly reports and that’s just as much as you see of them unless they’re meeting with price. but you can’t say the same about “Ghost”, who comes in during the middle of the week to drop off the file containing his report but…it’s nowhere near complete. where are the remaining 15 pages of this thing?! You’d think the “best man” would know better than to leave his work unfinished.

the next day he’s dropping off another 5 pages continuous of the first few he gave you the day before. you huff when he turns on his heel and walks away without a word again, just silently hands you the folder and carries on his day. and the same happens the day after that and the one after that also until bit by bit the report is complete.

you’re on your third week working there and ghost carries on his daily routine of incomplete reports, now adds a courteous “give you the next one tomorrow” and it’s the first time you hear his low, baritone voice that makes your face hot, but doesn’t stop you from being annoyed. doesn’t he know it’s much easier to get it all done at once rather than turn in every 5 pages and have to…come back…every day…? wait…

just then it dawns on you that maybe he’s not stupid, maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing. but you don’t have it in you to really believe he’d make that effort to just see you. That’s ridiculous! You?! Of course not… so you push the thought to the back of your mind, and ghost continues his charade.

and all he can think of is how he looks forward to seeing your face even if it means being facetious with his work.

[iamthatonefangirl]

miss possessive part 3 - nsfw congressman bucky barnes

okay so forgive me i know nothing about how it works to be elected for congress i apologize

also just pretend that Bucky's assistant is like lowkey his campaign manager ok please humor me.

part 1

part 2

~~~

nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos that would come when you got the news.

he's been elected.

everyone in the office is running around. the constant ringing of phones continues to fill the room, people are loudly talking over each other, trying to celebrate and stay on task at the same time. 

it's insanity, really.

right now, you feel like you're going crazier than anyone else. you have to coordinate everyone, make sure things are getting done, and you're scrambling for time. 

Bucky has to give a speech tonight that you have to prep him for, accompany him to, and you've barely even finished making the arrangements for the press and the location and the timing and where the hell is Bucky?

you're just trying to keep up, let alone remind yourself that you're going to be jobless after this. 

you're on the phone, still on hold, all while typing out your formal thank-you note to go out to the donors. 

amongst all the chatter and everyone continually bothering you, you were getting fed up of sitting at your desk. so when you found Bucky's office empty, you figured it's a relatively quiet spot. you can finally get some work done, and no one will look for you here. perfect.

when the person on the other line finally takes you off hold, Bucky opens the door and walks in. you mouth sorry to him for having taken up his desk, and try to make your phone discussion as short as possible.

he's standing there, on the other side of the desk, watching you with a small smirk on his face. you can't help but smile back at him while you continue to talk, maintaining the intense eye contact you've held since he entered. 

fuck, he looks good. hands in his pockets, hair slicked back, wearing that navy blue suit that makes his shoulders look broad and his waist look snatched as fuck. 

the past months have been insanely stressful, both of you working long hours, all of it leading up to today. yet it's been utter bliss getting to spend every minute with him, getting to sleep in his bed on nights you work way too late and are too tired to drive home. 

you finally hang up the phone and sigh in exhaustion, leaning back into his chair and rubbing your forehead. "fuck, who knew it would be this crazy when it finally happened?" you comment. 

"I just can't believe it happened," he admits to you, still standing there, still looking so delectable. 

you look back up at him. "of course it happened. you deserve this." 

he can see the tiredness in your smile, the way the stress has been following you around all day. he knows you're both going to be here late tonight, even after he gives his acceptance speech this evening. 

he watches as you prepare to stand from his chair, shutting your laptop. "sorry for stealing your office, my desk-" you begin, but he interrupts, walking around the desk and standing in front of you.

"where do you think you're going?" he teases. 

"uh, my desk," you quip back. what's he getting at...  

"nope. you're not going anywhere," he smiles, gently urging you to sit back in the chair. you do, but begin to protest, "Bucky, I have so much-" 

your words catch in your throat as you watch him get down on his knees in front of you. 

it's probably the hottest thing you've ever seen, but you have so much work, you can't do this here, not now-

"Bucky," you gasp as he begins to run his hands up your thighs, under your pencil skirt. "I'm so busy, and we're literally in the office, and..." you trail off as he begins to put his mouth on the inside of your thighs.

you try to protest some more, but he tells you off. 

"you gonna keep whining, or are you gonna let me make you feel good?" 

you feel lightheaded in only the best way. you nod. this is so reckless, and so unlike you, but fuck if you don't love the sight of him on his knees in front of you. 

you let him lift your hips as he rolls the skirt up just high enough to expose your entire lower half, still in awe of how strong he is, how easily he can move you without even trying. 

you feel him run his thumb up and down the wet spot on your underwear. you can't even feel embarrassed at how quickly he turned you into a drenched mess because you know he loves it. 

"that's it, that's right," he coos as you lean back in the chair, letting your eyes shut. "just relax for me." 

if you had told yourself when you first started this job that you would end up sitting in your boss' chair, with said boss about to eat you out in said chair, you wouldn't have believed it. you'd have called yourself delusional. and yet, here you are. 

you watch him use both hands to peel your panties down to your ankles before diving in. 

fuck, his tongue is exquisite. 

this is so wrong. you have so much to do. you can hear the people outside buzzing around the office, trying to get things done for you and for him, and you're in here doing this?

you don't care.

you run your hands through his hair, gripping tightly as you grind your hips against his face. in this moment, screw everything else. it's just you and him. 

the five o'clock shadow on his face does nothing but work you up even more. you lean into the feeling, letting go of all the stress, and reminding yourself of the good things, like Bucky's mouth between your legs. 

you're probably suffocating him, you realize, and force yourself to get a grip, letting go of his hair to give him room to breathe. 

he pulls back. "nah, baby, come on-"

"don't want you to asphyxiate," you pant.

"fucking hell, baby, want you to take what you need." 

no way you're saying no to that.

you lace your fingers back in his hair, interlocking them at the back of his head, and you do exactly as he told you. 

you're probably a fucking sight right now, rutting against his face like there's no tomorrow, but god it feels so good. 

he loves when you finally let loose, letting go of all inhibition to let him get you off. 

"that's right, baby, come on," he encourages, pulling back for just a minute, replacing his mouth with his fingers. "look at me."

with all the strength you can muster, you look down at him, eyes surely black with lust for him. god, his face is soaked. you let out a groan at the sight. 

"you're gonna come like this, with my mouth on you, then I'm gonna bend you over my desk, got it?"

he doesn't give you the chance to respond before his tongue is back on you, and it doesn't take much longer. your mind goes fuzzy, cotton in your ears, and you're willing it, just waiting for the drop–

you exhale deeply when it finally happens, and you let him work you through it until you twitch from overstimulation.

a moment passes where you finally catch your breath, and then he’s picking you up by the hips and seating you on the desk. your hands come to his shoulders lazily as he manhandles you, not even opening your eyes, too engulfed in the aftermath of the pleasure he's just drawn from you. 

you suppose he forgot about bending you over the desk, because he’s facing you and pulling you in to kiss him as he unbuckles his belt and pushes your legs apart with his hips. 

“you okay, baby?” he asks. 

you nod your head, eyes still shut, smiling. he chuckles. “there you go. that’s what I like to see, all fucked out 'cause of me, isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

you nod as he brings his hand to your face, cradling your head and running his thumb over the faded scar on your forehead before bringing his lips to press a light kiss to it.

you know he still feels terrible about the accident, even months later. you remind him as often as you can that it’s not his fault, shit happens. he makes sure to remind you every day how beautiful you are, scar or no scar. 

and then he’s stretching you out on his dick, making you moan out wantonly. 

he begins rambling in your ear as you cling to him, barely able to listen to his words with the feeling of him fucking you on his desk.

“this is all I’m gonna be thinking about tonight, baby,” he begins. “gonna be at that podium… reading whatever fuck-ass words on the teleprompter… thinking about you, baby,” he says, rubbing his hand over the scar again. his words are messy and breathy as he tries to get them out, but it’s music to your ears, listening to him as he takes you apart, only for him. 

“love you so much, don’t know what I’d do without you,” he whispers. you lift your head from his shoulder and press your lips messily to his. there’s little coordination, and you’re too busy moaning out into the room, barely making any effort to actually kiss him, but it’s perfect. with him, it’s always perfect. 

“love you,” you whine as you get closer. “so… much… love you.”

“gonna let me fill you up, baby?” 

the fog in your head lifts for a moment as you remember where you are. you shake your head. “not now… later,” you urge him. “later, Bucky, promise.” 

he nods, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as you clamp down on him, reaching your peak. 

he pulls out only moments before he comes, making a mess all over his hands. 

you breathe heavily, leaning back on the desk, resting your weight on your palms as he cleans the both of you up. 

your eyes barely open to look up at the clock. fuck, you just lost so much time.

“Bucky, fuck, I have so much to do–” you begin, but he cuts you off with his lips on yours. 

“I know, baby. I know. but just think, tonight, after my speech, we’ll come back here and do this all over again, yeah?”

you nod. the night ahead is guaranteed to be the busiest one yet, but you know he’ll make good on his promise regardless. he’d do anything for you.

~~~

part 1

part 2

masterlist

join my tag list

tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @josis-teacup @idkman5335

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Better Job Offer » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky witnesses how horrible your boss is to you so he steps in and stands up for you. He also offers you a better job as his assistant, in which you happily accept.

Warnings: Angst (not you and Bucky), Fluff, language, crying, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

GIF MADE BY ME!

Bucky was walking down the street to a nearby coffee shop when he heard and seen your boss yelling at you. He stopped in his tracks with a great amount of distance between you and him to watch, just in case things got out of hand.

“What is this?” Your boss asks.

“Ice coffee.” You answered.

“I told you I wanted hot coffee, not ice coffee!” She says loudly.

“You told me you wanted ice coffee.” You say, recalling her words from a few minutes ago.

“I did not say that! Either you weren’t listening or you’re just fucking stupid!” She says loudly.

She took the lid off the cup and threw the ice coffee at you. You gasped at the coldness of the coffee and ice cubes. The coffee got all over your brand new shirt. Bucky’s jaw clenched when he saw that. He walked over to you.

“That was completely uncalled for.” Bucky says to your boss.

“She got my coffee order wrong.” Your boss says.

“So you resorted to throwing it at her?” He asks.

“Yes, because she’s fucking stupid and doesn’t know how to get anything right.” She says.

Your eyes teared up and your bottom lip quivered, a few tears rolled down your cheeks.

“She’s human. Humans make mistakes.” He says.

“Not like her. Besides, she’s barely human. She’s an idiot.” She says, looking at you.

To be honest, you hate your job. You’ve been wanting to quit for a while. You were always scared to speak up to her.

“I quit!” You finally say.

“Excuse me?” Your boss says.

“I quit!” You repeated.

“You can’t quit.” She says.

“Yes she can. She can do whatever the hell she wants.” Bucky says.

Your boss scoffs before approaching you and got in your face.

“I want your shit off your desk today.” She says.

Your boss walked away. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Are you ok, ma’am?” Bucky politely asks.

“Besides being soaked in coffee and being out of a job, I’m ok.” You say.

Bucky went inside of the coffee shop and got some napkins. He gave them to you and you tried to dry the coffee on your shirt.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asks.

“Y/N.” You tell him.

“I’m Bucky.” He introduces himself. “Can I buy you a coffee?” He asks.

“I would like that.” You smiled.

You threw away the coffee soaked napkins and walked inside the coffee shop with Bucky. You ordered your usual coffee and so did he. You and him sat down at a table to talk for a little bit.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I don’t have a job.” You say.

“If you’re up for it, I have a job offer for you.” He says.

“What kind of job?” You asked.

“I need an assistant.” He tells you. “All you have to do is tell me about yourself and the job is yours.” He says.

“Are you sure you want me to be your assistant?” You asked. “You heard what my now old boss said. I’m a stupid fucking idiot that can’t get anything right.” You say, looking down.

“Hey.” He put a comforting hand on your hand, getting you to look at him. “Don’t listen to a word she said. She’s a bitch. In my opinion, I think you have potential to be an amazing assistant.” He says, making you smile.

“When do you want to interview me?” You asked.

“Does tomorrow morning at 9am work for you?” He asks.

“Yes.” You replied.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, doll.” He smiles.

You and Bucky exchanged phone numbers before leaving the coffee shop. You went to your now old job to clean out your desk and went home. You wanted to get out of the coffee soaked shirt. That’s what you exactly did when you got home. You pretreated it before it stained. You made sure to print out your résumé for your job interview with Bucky tomorrow. You also picked out an outfit for your interview with Bucky tomorrow.

———

When you got there, you patiently and nervously waited for Bucky. One of your legs was bouncing up and down while you were fidgeting with your fingers.

“Sergeant Barnes will see you now.” A woman said.

You got up and followed her to Bucky’s office.

“Sergeant Barnes, your 9 o’clock is here.” The woman says to Bucky.

“Great! Thank you!” Bucky smiles as he stood up and walked over to you.

The woman gave Bucky a nod before walking out of his office. Bucky closed the door before turning his full attention to you.

“Good morning. How are you?” Bucky smiles, holding his hand out for you to shake.

“Good morning. I actually slept well last night and I don’t know why I just told you that.” You say nervously.

“Are you nervous?” He asks.

You nodded.

“It’s ok. I understand.” He smiles.

Bucky gestures for you to sit down, in which you did. He sat down in his desk chair. You nervously handed him your résumé. He took it and looked at it. You looked at the pictures on his desk, smiling when you seen a picture of him and Steve Rogers.

“Your résumé looks great.” Bucky says.

“Would it help if I said I played sports when I was a teenager?” You asked.

You felt stupid for asking that, but it was just your nerves talking. Literally.

“That’s nice to know, but you won’t be using athletic skills while you’re working for me.” He says with a smile.

“Working for you?” You asked, making sure you heard him right.

“You got the job.” He smiles.

“Oh my god! Really? Thank you so much!” You say happily and excitedly.

“You’re welcome, doll.” He says softly.

Bucky stood up from his desk chair and walked over to you. You stood up from the chair. He held his hand out for you to shake, in which you did.

“How about I show you to your new office?” Bucky suggests.

“I would like that.” You say.

You followed Bucky out of his office and across the hall to an empty office that only has a desk and a chair in there. It’s nice, spacious, and big.

“Holy shit…” You mumbled, looking around the office.

“Do you like it?” He asks. “If not, I can show you another one if you’d like.” He says.

“I like it!” You say fast. “It’s just- it’s way bigger than my old office. My old boss gave me a small supply closet as an office.” You say.

Bucky put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“Forget about her. You have a way better job now.” He says softly.

You looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“Do you have any questions?” He asks.

“I have two questions.” You say. “When do I start and am I allowed to decorate my office?” You asked.

“You start tomorrow morning and you can decorate this office any way you want.” He replies.

“Really? Oh, thank you!” You exclaimed happily.

You gave him a hug, catching both of you by surprise.

“Oh god! I’m so sorry! My excitement got away from me!” You apologized profusely.

“It’s ok. I understand.” Bucky says with a smile.

Bucky, being the gentleman he is, walked you to your car after your interview.

“Thank you for the job, Mr. Barnes.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome.” He smiles. “Call me Bucky.” He adds.

“Bucky.” You smiled.

———

The next morning, you made sure to wake up early so you had enough time to get ready. Normally, you’re never excited to go to work, but today you are excited. You think it’s because you have a new and better job. You have a feeling you’re going to love it.

When you got to work, everyone is so welcoming. They smiled at you and said good morning to you. When you opened the door to your new office, you seen a vase of flowers on your desk. You smiled and walked over to your desk, admiring how pretty the flowers are. You were curious to know who got you flowers. That’s when you found a small card in the midst of the flowers. You picked it out of the flowers and read it, smiling when you seen you got you the flowers.

Good luck on your first day of your new job. You’ll do great.

-Bucky

“I see you love the flowers I got you.” Bucky says as he walks in your office.

“You’re so sweet. Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome, doll. I wanted to make you feel welcome.” He says with a smile.

“I do feel welcomed.” You smiled.

“I’ll let you decorate your office to your liking. Let me know if you need anything.” He says.

“I’m the assistant. Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?” You playfully joked.

“Good point, doll face.” He chuckles. “I thought you’d like to ease into the job today.” He says sweetly.

“You’re so sweet, Bucky.” You say again and smiled.

“I have a feeling that we’re going to work well together.” He says with a smile.

“Me too.” You say, smiling back.

Bucky gives you a smile before leaving you to decorate your office. You looked around your office with a smile on your face. Even though it’s your first day, you absolutely love this job. You love it more than your old job. You wouldn’t change it for the world.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll