#mailroom crush

[littlemisspascal]

Mailroom Crush Part 8

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word Count: 2900+

Summary: A story about Reader who works in the mailroom of the embassy and her encounters with a handsome, brown-eyed DEA agent.

Warnings: Language, fluff, angst, harassment--Stechner needs a warning all for himself, mild violence (a punch), blood, inaccurate depiction of an embassy mailroom, this is only loosely based on canon of Season 3 so the timeline does not 100% match the show’s

Author Note: *awkwardly throws this out there after several months of nothingness* Thank you everyone for the lovely support! Hope you enjoy this 💝

PART 7

Javier’s absence is sorely felt from the moment you first enter the embassy the following morning. The hours seem to drag by at a snail’s pace, your lunch break a depressingly lonely affair filled with worrisome thoughts about what your boyfriend’s doing right now. How was his flight? Has he arrested Franklin yet? What if there was a fight between them? What if he’s been hurt? 

You try to keep yourself busy to avoid overthinking things, offering to make Riley’s delivery rounds for her which she happily accepts. But even the usually bustling and loud atmosphere outside of the mailroom seems to have lost its energy, staff members quiet and on edge.

Recognizing your increasing anxiety, Riley sets up a radio on her desk to fill the silence. The music notes fill the space like water in a bathtub, slowly lulling you into a relaxed state as you organize a pile of letters. It’s almost as if a protective bubble has formed, and as long as you stay in it, everything’s alright. Javier will come home safe and sound. You’ll have another grilled cheese date together. Life will carry on like usual.

An hour later, Stechner strolls into the mailroom, the smarmy smirk on his face a needle putting a fatal end to your peaceful sanctuary. He walks right up to you, circling around the table and bracing his hip against the edge like he’s got all the free time in the world to bother you with more of his taunts.

You don’t think it’s a coincidence he’s chosen this precise moment to enter the mailroom when Riley’s stepped out to grab a snack from the vending machine. No witnesses means he’s free to speak whatever’s on his mind.

Stechner clears his throat, causing the hair on the back of your neck to prickle. He’s looking at the bundle of letters in your hands, mouth curled at the corner in what you would call a friendly smile on any other person in the universe. With him it only has your spine tensing up even more. 

“You’re a hard worker, that’s a good character trait to have,” he says as casually as someone would comment on the weather. “You’re pretty, too, always a plus. It’s just a shame you display some shaky judgment in men.”

It takes all your self-control not to clench your hands. Think of the letters, you tell yourself, neatly arranging them in a pile. People would be mad to receive torn and crinkled mail.

“You and Peña, still going strong I’ve seen,” he continues, looking at his cuticles now. You can’t help noticing how short his nails are, cut down to the plate, no hint of white. Or, maybe not trimmed, but chewed off. Maybe the man isn’t as immune to stress as he likes to present himself.  “I guess it’s true what they say, true love prevails no matter the opposition.”

Before you can bite your tongue, you find yourself responding, “Opposition? Is that what you call those pictures you sent me? Because I think a better term for them would be ‘misleading’. They didn’t exactly tell the whole story.”

“Maybe not,” Stechner agrees, a mocking note in his voice. “But around here nobody ever knows the whole story. Not even certain dashingly handsome DEA agents.”

Your eyebrows lift, annoyance buzzing under your skin. It’s growing steadily harder with every conversation with the CIA Station Chief to resist being dragged into the grudge match between him and Javier. You still don’t know your boyfriend’s reasons behind his obvious detestation, but at this point it’s not necessary for you to know them to join his side. You have your own laundry list fueling your disdain.

“Let me tell you something, honey, maybe it will make you hate me a little less or maybe not but,” he lifts a shoulder, not at all bothered which way you feel about him, “there’s always going to be new bad guys to fight. That’s what happens when there’s a war going on. And this particular battle with Cali, it needs soldiers willing to follow orders. Not heroes sticking their noses where they don’t belong and certainly not naive little mailroom clerks.”

Your vision seems to tunnel, teeth grinding against each other. The idea of stabbing this man with a letter opener abruptly comes to mind, but your limbs remain frozen stiff.

“I thought a little push might put you back in your lane, but no such luck,” he continues with a woeful sigh, and you feel something caged inside of you begin to rise to the surface. “I get it though. Really. Guy like Peña pays a nobody like you some attention, flirts a bit, takes you home…it would be hard for anyone to wanna close their legs. There’s not exactly a line of men waiting to fill the void. Although, if I’m being honest, I’d be tempted to try.”

Crunch.

It’s supremely satisfying to feel bone break beneath your knuckles and watch blood gush from his nostrils, staining the front of his suit jacket. Stechner lets out a pained grunt, grabbing at his face and staggering backwards a step. You relish the sight. He’s not untouchable. He’s just as fragile as any other man.

Riley walks into the mailroom then. All it takes is one glance at the scarlet fountain pouring out of Stechner’s broken nose to have her gasping aloud. “Oh my God!”

Her shout is a bucket of ice water on your anger. Dread swells in your chest, clawing at your insides, and you’re suddenly aware of how much your trembling hand is throbbing.

Oh fuck what have you done.

Several staff members have appeared in the doorway now, drawn by Riley’s distress. Their gazes dart between you and Stechner, putting the pieces together and murmuring amongst themselves.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Stechner’s saying to a worried Riley who’s offering him a box of tissues. “Just a difference of opinions.”

It doesn’t matter what filth he’d said to you, that he’s smiling right now through his bloody teeth. At the end of the day, you’re a lowly mail clerk and he’s the CIA Station Chief. This was a battle you were destined to lose.

~~

Naturally, you expect to be fired for your transgressions. You punched an extremely important and respected government official, it only made sense to cut all ties with you immediately. 

You walk into Ambassador Crosby’s office thirty minutes later anticipating being told to pack your things and catch the first flight back home. 

What you don’t anticipate, however, is being told you’re suspended for two weeks without pay. That the only reason you’re not walking out of there jobless is because Stechner apparently was gracious enough not to have hard feelings and insisted you stay, that the mailroom–no, the whole embassy in fact—benefited from your hard work and dedication to your tasks. 

Ambassador Crosby says you should be grateful to be sticking around. But when you leave that’s the farthest emotion on the spectrum you feel.

You have no idea what Stechner’s weird mind game is, and yet you have the sinking feeling you played along exactly as he wanted you to.

~~

Perhaps the only benefit of being suspended from work is now you have an abundant amount of free time to catch up on your chores. The pile of laundry has been overflowing for a good week or two, not to mention the dust bunnies multiplying underneath your couch. 

Riley calls in the afternoon, probably on her lunch break given the amount of noise in the background. She balances the thin, blurry line between a concerned friend and a nosy coworker hungry for a piece of what she calls the most exciting gossip to ever spread through the embassy. You’ve gone from an unknown entity to a public spectacle overnight, everyone curious to know what made you snap.

You collapse on your bed after she tells you that, staring up at the ceiling and wondering how the hell is this your life. It’s definitely not anything close to what you thought it would resemble after losing that dumb bet with your mother. Maybe handling mail all day isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but it’s safe, comfortable. Not a forever kind of thing, there’s still so much you want to do and see, but for right now it’s good. 

Wonderful, actually, because without this job, without the mailroom that has become your second home, you never would have met Javier. Never would have known the sound of his laughter, how his jaw clenches when he’s frustrated, what he looks like with swollen lips and hair tousled by your fingers and half-lidded eyes dark with arousal. Your heart pangs painfully in your chest, missing him dearly. 

He’s brought so much warmth into your life, so much of that precious unspoken feeling you think–no, you know you want to tell him, to whisper it against his lips, his skin. There’s no denying it anymore, no doubts or insecurities, just absolute certainty your heart belongs to him.

I love you, Javi darling. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else before.

~~

It’s almost midnight and you can’t shut your brain off long enough to sleep. Your eyes burn with exhaustion, pajama-clad body sore after a full day of vacuuming and scrubbing and dusting, splayed out on your mattress. And yet, your thoughts are stubbornly wide awake, ricocheting off your skull like a dozen bouncy balls. 

They’re not even coherent thoughts. More like…sensations. A silent alarm. An invisible clock counting down seconds. Anticipation of something about to happen, but what that ‘something’ is, whether it’s good or bad, you have no idea. 

You’re contemplating a late-night snack, maybe even a movie, when there’s a knock at your front door echoing throughout the apartment.

You lift your head from your pillow, wondering if you’re so tired you’re hallucinating sounds now, if it’s–

Another knock, harder this time. A fist striking the wood without concern for bruises.

Throwing off the covers, you make the short trek across the apartment, footsteps cautious as you approach the door to peer out the peephole. There’s a second of disbelief that hits you because that’s–that’s Javier on the other side. Javier who’s supposed to be on a manhunt in another country. Javier who you’ve achingly missed these last two days. Your Javier who you love.

You can’t unlock the door fast enough, fingers trembling and breaths coming out in short pants. Wrenching it open, you all but throw yourself at the man, arms winding around his neck. 

“You’re back,” you say needlessly, voice muffled against his throat where your face is buried. He returns the embrace just as tightly, hands roaming over your back and touching your hair, like he’s refamiliarizing himself with your body. 

“Tesoro,” he murmurs, lips pressing against your temple, and the nickname comes out as a shuddered breath, thick with restrained emotions. Your heart skips a nervous beat, those antsy sensations flaring up beneath your skin.

Something’s wrong.

“Javi?” you ask, pulling back for a better look at his face. He won’t meet your eyes, jaw set so hard you worry he’ll hurt himself. It’s not because of anger though. You’ve seen him mad before, seen him with fire in his eyes and a snarl on his lips, and this isn’t that. This is…this is something worse.

This is a man who’s on the cusp of falling apart, holding on by his own stubborn willpower.

“I’m sorry for coming so late.” He swallows, throat bobbing, and something inside of you aches. “I just…I had to see you.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you tell him, tugging on his hand. “Please, come on in.”

He follows without protest, through the door and past the couch, down the hall to your bedroom. With only the dim light of the lamp on your nightstand, everything’s softer around the edges, troubles not quite so heavy. You sit on the edge of the bed, Javier coming to stand in-between your legs, looming yet unthreatening, almost like he’s shielding you from the world. You grab onto his hand, find yourself tracing the creases and calluses. He’s lost one of his nails, the tender skin ugly and black, and you think about what that means. If it means anything at all.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, keeping your voice purposefully low, still staring at his hand. The fingers curl reflexively, a tremble he can’t quite repress.

“Oh, tesoro,” his answer seems to rumble out of the darkness, washing over you like icy rain, “I don’t even know where to start.”

You ignore the shiver of unease running down your backside, pulling instead at his arms and sleeves until he’s lying down on the bed beside you, faces scant inches apart, noses almost brushing. For the first time, you detect the faint scent of alcohol on Javier’s breath, brown eyes shining even in the dimness.

“Wherever you want,” you finally say, lacing your fingers with his. “I’ll catch up.”

And for a second time, Javier indulges your request to open up. Words tumble out of his mouth and are immediately soaked up by your ears. You say nothing, only listening, only gripping his hand.

Franklin Jurado has been arrested. His wife though, beautiful and blonde Christina, has been snatched away in the night by the very same cartel her husband works for. Her whereabouts? Currently unknown. She might not even still be alive. And without her by his side, Franklin refuses to cooperate. Javier’s case against the Cali Cartel has now become even twice as complicated. Has the risk of falling apart entirely if he doesn’t come up with a solution fast.

In the morning light, you think these bombshells he’s dropping will hit harder than they do now as the clock displays 2am. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep which keeps your emotions calm, like you’re floating outside of your own body; or maybe it’s his nearness, that greedy internal part of you too pleased to have him here to care about anything or anyone else.

It’s hard to imagine such horrors exist outside the walls of your apartment when the best thing that’s ever happened to you is nestled beside you in bed. 

But you see the look in his eyes, that scorching flame of determination he always has when talking about justice and bringing down the cartel, and it’s still there now, flickering in the midnight hours despite the crushing pain of disappointment and defeat. And you know that in the morning light he’ll be out there again, chasing after those unimaginable horrors, because Stechner, the fucking asshole, was right: Javier’s a hero.

And you—

Impossibly, you find yourself loving him even more.

Javier’s the first to fall asleep, nudging his forehead against yours, arm slung over your waist. He looks younger while he dreams, endearing in the way he curls his shoulders inward, making himself smaller in order to better fit in the curve of your own body. 

Your nose bumps against his, and it’s strange how the feeling of his exhaled breath against your mouth actually makes something loosen inside of you. A knot come undone. You lay a gentle hand on the side of his cheek, thumb ghosting along the smooth skin beneath his closed eye. It’s a gesture of affection and reassurance. 

A gesture that says: Sleep, my love. Tonight you’re safe with me.

~~

You wake up to a line of heat molded against your backside, lips pressing a trail of kisses along your shoulder, neck, ear, cheek. Each spot of contact makes your heart perform funny little flips every time. God, you’re so gone for this man. Your mouth curls into a smile even as your eyes remain closed, and you hear Javier’s quiet hum when he realizes you’re awake.

“I’m sorry tesoro,” he says lowly, not sounding very apologetic at all, “I couldn’t resist.”

You snort, imagining your bedhead and the pillow creases on your face are so utterly attractive. “I don’t mind,” you murmur, tilting your head to give Javier’s lips better access to your neck. He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you closer against his body and burying his face in the space, mustache tickling the tender skin. 

You really don’t mind. In fact, you’d love it if every morning began this way. 

With one hand still beneath your pillow, you move the other to run your fingers through his hair only to wince at the protesting throb from your knuckles. It’s been days now since you broke Stechner's nose, but the pain of the punch still lingers as an ugly bruise. You make a mental note to ice it later.

Javier shifts, lifting his head from your neck despite your disappointed noise, and you know the second he sees your injured hand because his whole body goes tense. In the next beat he’s sitting up, cradling your hand in both of his with the same gentleness one might handle a baby bird that’s fallen out of a tree.

You sit up too, legs folding underneath your rear, eyes flicking nervously between his eerily blank expression and your bruised knuckles. The warmth of the morning has all but evaporated, a cold chill piercing your chest that has your lungs constricting.

“Tesoro,” he says finally, bland and stoic and perhaps the closest you’ve ever been to Agent Peña.

“It’s fine,” you say, too quickly, and your teeth immediately sink into your bottom lip. This is not how you wanted this morning to go.

“Tesoro,” he acts as if your mouth never opened, gaze slowly rising to connect with yours, dark and inscrutable, “what happened while I was gone?”

[kirsteng42]

I am going through my favourite people and reblogging the stories and content that has kept me going through the last year, which has been the hardest in my life. Losing my gorgeous mam, my only family member, suddenly at the end of March, then having my accident which has kept me house bound and unable to do a lot of things for myself till just recently. If you already follow me, then you will have seen most of this already, but it’s all worth reading, seeing or watching again!!! @littlemisspascal is definitely 1 of my favourite people. The first video of Javier P/ The Killers, was the first thing I ever saw from Rae and as it had 2 of my favourite things involved I watched it and have basically watched everyday since!!! There is a section where it is all Javi walking away from the camera and it’s incredible!! The second video is her latest with Pedro clips, again brilliant. Rae also writes great fiction too, Mailroom Crush with Javi P and Love Triangles with Dieter Bravo are 2 of my favourites. She also keeps the massive and indispensable Pedro library which is awesome. Thank you Rae for all that you do 💖💖💖💖

[munsonsmixtapes]

I saw you were taking requests so I decided to submit one!

Thinking of some Older!Eddie smut where him and the reader are neighbors in an apartment complex. The reader has a huge crush on Eddie but is too afraid to say anything. They have bumped into each other a couple times and have had a few casual conversations in the mailroom or at the park. He notices her trying to move furniture into her apartment on her own and offers to help. How can she ever repay him? 👀👀

This might be my favorite request yet!

Older!Eddie x fem!reader

cw: reader is 25 and Eddie is 40, MDNI 18+ smut, unprotected sex (please don’t do this)

You stood in the lobby of your building, staring down at the giant chair that had definitely seemed smaller online. You had ordered a something small to read in and what had been sent to you could easily sit two people instead of one. There was absolutely no way you were going to get it upstairs by yourself and also no way you were going to going to ask anyone for help. You just felt like you were a bother.

Knowing that you couldn’t leave it in the lobby, you took a deep breath and grabbed onto one of the arms and pulled it. Once it didn’t move, you pulled again and again until it started to slide. You were able to get it across the floor to the elevator, but it got caught on something, causing you to fall back just as the elevator door opened.

“God, are you okay?” A voice asked as whoever it belonged to rushed to your side.

“I’m fine, it’s just this stupid fucking-“ you cut yourself off as you realized that your neighbor that you had been crushing on had been right in front of you. His brown eyes bored into yours as he searched for any sign that you had been hurt.

Eddie offered you his hand and you took it, letting him help you to your feet. You quickly pulled your hand away and brushed yourself off, afraid to look him in the eye. He was just too pretty and off limits. He was fifteen years older than you and you were sure that he wasn’t interested in you in the slightest.

You both had said hello to each other in the mailroom and at the park where the two of you liked to take walks, but him greeting you with a few words didn’t necessarily mean that he liked you. He was just trying to be nice, you were sure of it.

“Is this yours?” He asked, pointing at the chair and you just sighed, collapsing into it, causing Eddie to laugh. You were suddenly embarrassed of the thing, very much wanting it out of your sight.

“Yes,” you let out another sigh. “But it’s very heavy, so I guess I’m just going to have to leave it here and get in trouble with the building.”

Eddie felt bad for you being in such a predicament, and despite his want to never get to know any of his neighbors, he felt the need to help you. He couldn’t let such a beautiful woman try to get a large couch up to her apartment by herself, could he?

If he was being honest, he always looked forward to seeing you whenever you had run into each other. You had always been sweet to him and it had been very obvious that you had a crush on him with the way that your cheeks blushed when he made eye contact and your open flirting. Eddie was no fool.

“I could help you get it upstairs if you want.” You sat up at his offer, vigorously shaking your head as you did so.

“Oh no,” you stood up from the chair. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You did want the help, but felt like he probably (definitely) had better things to do.

“You’re not asking.” He stepped towards you. “I’m offering.”

“It’s really heavy.” You showed him by trying and failing to lift the side of the chair, barely able to even lift it off the ground.

Eddie moved towards the chair and you moved out of the way as he picked it up in one swift motion. You headed for the elevator and pressed the button with the up arrow on it, waiting for it to open. The way he was standing gave you a perfect of his flexing bicep that you wanted to wrap tightly around you as he pressed a filthy kiss to your mouth.

You were embarrassed by how badly you wanted him, thinking about him at pretty much every waking moment. Some of your thoughts were innocent, like how he would definitely hold you in his arms as you both fell asleep. And some not so innocent, like the way you wanted him to fuck you so hard that you couldn’t walk afterwards.

You didn’t know why you were even thinking about him or why you were so attracted to him. But he was so hot with the way he always had his hair pulled up into a bun and the way he dressed with his muscle tanks and jeans that hugged his ass just right. You were so down bad that it was sad.

The elevator doors opened and Eddie stepped into it, holding the chair as if it was light as a feather. You got in after him and pressed the button that would take you to your floor and the doors closed.

“Are you sure it’s not heavy? I can help.” You reached for the chair but Eddie just backed away.

“Nope, you just stand there and look pretty, okay?” You turned away, feeling your cheeks burn at his compliment, not wanting him to see your face.

Before you knew it, the elevator doors opened on your floor and Eddie insisted that you go before him. You walked down the hall and he followed you, adjusting the chair in his arms so it was more comfortable. You got to your door and quickly unlocked it before moving aside, letting Eddie bring the chair in.

“Where do you want it?” He asked and you pointed to the corner by the window that led out to your fire escape.

“Right there.” Eddie moved quickly and set the chair down exactly where you wanted it before collapsing into it with a sigh. He leaned back into it and rested his hand behind his head as he closed his eyes. You chewed your bottom lip as you imagined yourself straddling his waist as his hand rode up your skirt, gripping your thighs as you pressed your lips to his neck, eliciting the most beautiful moans from him.

“This is nice,” he sighed and you felt yourself getting wet at the sound. He then rose from the chair and stuffed his hands into his pockets as he headed towards you. “Was that all you needed?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for your generosity.” Little did you know that Eddie was having the exact same thoughts, wondering what it would be like to place his lips on yours. And that’s when he got the idea.

“How about a kiss?” Your eyes widened at that, but he quickly turned his face to the side pointing at his cheek.

“Oh, right,” you nodded. Of course that was all he wanted. How stupid of you to think he would have wanted a kiss on the lips.

You leaned forward and pressed a lingering peck to his cheek and he closed his eyes, loving the way your warm lips felt against his skin. You pulled back after a few seconds then stepped away, putting your hands behind your back so you wouldn’t be able to pull him in for a real kiss.

“Have a good night, y/n. And may I just say, you have excellent taste in chairs.” He gave you a small waved and you opened the door for him.

“Thank you.” You gulped, wanting him to stay. He couldn’t leave now. You had a feeling he would have if you had just asked, but you the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth.

“You’re very welcome,” he winked then headed out into the hall and you watched him walk the few steps it took to get to his own apartment that was next door. He stepped inside and gave you another wink before closing his door gently.

You slowly walked back to your own place and shut the door before leaning against it. The hottest man you had ever seen had just been in your apartment and you hadn’t taken the chance to jump his bones like you were sure anyone else in the building would have. You had heard the whispers when he entered the mail room, all of the moms giggling about how attractive he was. And you had seen people turn their heads when he passed them at the park. The was a fine piece of ass and you were kicking yourself because you hadn’t hit that. If you had just-

Your words were cut off by a knock at your door. You weren’t expecting anyone so you were unsure of who it could’ve been. You slowly stood up and took a peek through the peephole only to see Eddie on the other side. With your curiosity getting the best of you, you opened the door putting on a bright smile.

“Forgetting something?” You asked and Eddie stepped closer to you.

“Well, I was wondering if I could change my payment?” Change his payment? What the fuck could he have possibly wanted?

“Well, that depends on what you’re wanting.” You stepped forward so that you were toe to toe.

“Well, I was wanting a real kiss, if that’s okay?” That was so okay. More than okay, in fact. It was perfect.

“I thought you’d never ask.” You grabbed onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him inside as he pressed his lips to yours. His nose dug into your cheek because of the pressure but you hardly minded.

His hands grabbed onto your waist and pulled you to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. He stepped forwards and you mimicked him, the two of you moving further into your apartment as his tongue swiped along your bottom lip. You let him lick into your mouth as you back him up to the chair, breaking the kiss only to push him into it.

Eddie collapsed into the chair and you took no time to straddle his waist, his hand resting on your waist as yours moved to his hair.

“Go ahead,” he nodded and you removed the hair tie from it, putting it onto your wrist before fixing his hair and making it look nice. Why, you weren’t sure since you were just going to mess it up again.

“You looked so pretty with your hair down,” you told him. “Your curls are so pretty. You’re pretty.” Eddie blushed at that and if you noticed, you didn’t say anything about it. He considered himself to be an attractive guy, but hearing you call him pretty made his confidence skyrocket.

“If anyone’s pretty here, it’s you, hon.” Now it was your turned to blush, but you resisted the urge to turn away.

“Really?” You just couldn’t believe it. Maybe he wasn’t just being nice to you.

“Oh yeah. You’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And gorgeous.” A kiss to your other cheek. “And not to mention fucking hot.” His lips captured yours in another messy kiss as his hand slid up your skirt, his hand resting on the spot right above your ass. “Is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you replied, slotting your lips between his as you wound your hands into his hair, loving how soft it felt between yours fingers. Eddie’s hands slowly slipped into your underwear, giving you enough time to deny him if you didn’t want him to continue. He slowly pulled them down and you pulled away, causing him to stop everything.

“You really want to?” You asked, biting down on your bottom lip. You could have sworn that you were dreaming.

“I want to so bad, sugar.” The words came out more like a whine and your underwear got even more damp with hearing it.

“I guess it’s what I owe you for bringing this all the way up here.” You batted your lashes and Eddie felt his dick hardening at the thought of fucking you right there.

“You don’t owe me anything. I want you to want this, not because you think I deserve it.”

“I want it.” Eddie patted around his pockets, clearly looking for something and his eyes widened once he realized he didn’t have whatever it was.

“Fuck,” Eddie swore and your eyes snapped back up to his eyes.

“What?”

“I don’t have a condom.” That definitely wasn’t great, but you could work around it.

“Shit, me neither. But I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Me too.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Eddie pulled your underwear down as much as he could before you stood up and removed them completely letting them fall to the floor into a pile. You then removed your skirt as slow as possible, looking Eddie in the eye as you did so. He watched you, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes filling with lust.

You let the skirt pool at your feet then kicked it aside before removing your top and your bra. You let the strap fall from your fingers and clatter to the floor and stood there while Eddie rushed to undress himself.

He removed his shirt then unbuttoned his pants then pulled off his boxers before tossing them aside as well. Your eyes immediately fell onto his dick and you could t help but stare at how massive it was. Of course he was huge.

You climbed back into the chair and slowly settled yourself onto Eddie’s dick, you both letting out moans as he entered you. You rode his cock slowly, trying to get used to the feeling of it being bare inside your cunt. Once you got onto a rhythm, you moved faster, wanting it harder.

“Oh,” Eddie let out a moan as his hips bucked against yours, trying to get as far inside you as he could. “So good, baby. Love the way you look riding me.”

His words only encouraged you to move faster, the two of you moaning in unison at the sensation.

“And you look so good under me. You feel so good, Eds.” Your words came out like a whimper and that only made Eddie harder.

Eddie threw his head back, his eyes shutting tight as his hands found your ass, digging his fingers into the skin and you let out a gasp at feeling, but you didn’t hate it. You continued to ride him the fastest you could and you both let out moan after moan, not wanting the pleasure to end.

“Taking me so well, baby,” Eddie told you as his fingers dug further into your skin and you kind of wanted it to bruise so you could look in the mirror and remember that night.

“Well, it helps that you feel so good.” You each gave one last push and you normally would have been concerned at how loud you were, but with Eddie, you didn’t care. You were just lucky to have the chance to be with him like that.

You got off of Eddie and held out a hand to him to help him up from the chair that you were definitely going to wash thoroughly. You led him to the bathroom where you cleaned each other up before putting your clothes back on.

You couldn’t believe that you had just slept with your crush. Everything that you had thought about before falling asleep had come true and had been just as amazing as you could have hoped. It had all been so perfect that you were convinced that you were going to wake up in your bed any second.

You took Eddie by the hand and led him to the door before opening it. The two of you lingered in the doorway, neither of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye. Eddie pressed kiss after kiss to your lips, promising that it would be the last one, but they just kept coming.

“It’s late,” you told him through giggles.

“Sorry, honey. S’not my fault your lips are so kissable.” He pulled you in for another one.

“I have to work in the morning.” You tried to push him away, but his grip on you only tightened.

“Promise me you won’t be a stranger?” As if you’d ever let that happen.

“I promise,” you nodded, but he didn’t seem satisfied with that.

“Go out with me.” His words sounded so desperate and you thought you would have been stupid to say no.

“I think that can be arranged.” He finally let go of you but only after stealing one more kiss.

“Tomorrow night at seven?”

“It’s a date. Goodnight Eddie.” He finally let go of you but only after stealing one more kiss.

“Goodnight, neighbor.” He gave you yet another wink then turned on his heel. Once he was inside, you went back to your own apartment and let out a squeal as you raced to your closet to look for an outfit to wear on your date. You were beginning to think you should have thanked the delivery guy for dropping the chair off in the lobby instead of inside your apartment. After all, without him, you wouldn’t have even been going on a date with your hot neighbor. Maybe you’d write a note to thank him.

[whatsnewalycat]

Secret Admirer

Javier Peña x f!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: It's Valentine's Day. Which means it's time to take a chance on your workplace crush, Agent Javier Peña.

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Season 1 (ish), US Embassy, yearning, secret admirer, confrontation, drinking and smoking (real brief), smut, protected PIV sex, dash of angst and fluff

A/N: Yeeehaw, this was written for a valentines day exchange SOOOO Happy Valentine's Day to @typingcorgi 💌 This one is for you, I hope you like it!!!

The papers cradled in your arm dig into the sticky crease of your elbow. Your fingertips part the thick stack of faxes and run along the crisp edge of an envelope hidden inside. A bass drum starts thudding in your chest and heat creeps up your neck. 

One last peek over your shoulder at the empty, sterile mailroom gives you permission to do it. You slip the red envelope out from its hiding place and shove it into the cubby labeled JAVIER PEÑA. 

The shuffle of approaching footsteps sends your heart into an outright sprint. 

You scurry over to the fax machine and pinch the paperclip from the first fax, then slide the papers into the tray. As you punch the outgoing fax number into the machine, the footfalls grow closer, and soon start thudding against the shiny white linoleum of the mailroom. 

The low rumble of conversation between two men grows more distinct. You recognize their voices, but keep your eyes glued to the papers being sucked through the gears of the fax machine. 

“We’re gonna get a bottle of wine, candlelit dinner, put on some Marvin Gaye to set the mood,” Steve Murphy says, “Should probably get some flowers for her or somethin’, huh?” 

Javier Peña hums in response. 

They make their way over to the mailboxes. You stand there and try to blend into your surroundings as you wait for a fax receipt. The sound of them sorting the contents of their mail makes your stomach churn. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks as they start to walk away. 

“Let’s see,” Javier murmurs, then his footsteps come to a halt as he opens the envelope and he hums with curiosity. 

Steve stops, too, then chuckles, “Is that a fucking valentine?”

“Looks like it,” Javier mumbles, then directs his voice at you and says your name. 

You stop breathing and clench your eyes shut, then open them and turn around, trying your best to keep your face neutral, “What?” 

He holds up the unsealed red envelope and its folded up white contents between two fingers, “Did you see who left this?” 

You meet his dark brown eyes for a few devastating moments before dropping your gaze to the stack of faxes in your white-knuckle grip. All the moisture from your mouth evaporates. You clear your throat and shake your head, “No, sorry. I just got here.” 

“A secret admirer?” Murphy’s lips curl into an amused grin and he raises an eyebrow at Javier. 

You take another quick glance at the duo and realize Javier is narrowing his eyes at you, jaw working back and forth in subtle movements. Your skin burns and twists under his examination. 

He breaks his laser focus and looks to Steve with a shrug, “Guess so.” 

The fax machine roars to life behind you and starts printing. You spin on your heel towards the noise, and the men start off the way they came. Your hands are shaking when you go to grab the confirmation. 

—

The clack clack clack of your typewriter ricochets through the empty halls of the United States Embassy. Although you can’t see it from your desk, you know the sun outside is sinking below the horizon and giving way to the inky black of nighttime. 

Without Ambassador Noonan there to pull you into meetings for transcription, or assign you urgent outgoing faxes, or ask you to run any other number of errands she deems important, you’re able to perform the more “menial” of your clerical work. You sift through the stacks of papers at the corner of your desk, each one containing hurried handwriting scrawled by Noonan or one of her many Agents, trying to decipher their contents and transfer them into a more legible print. 

Footsteps sound from down the hall, but you’re too busy squinting at a puzzling clusterfuck of scribbles to pay it any mind. It’s not until your desk creaks under the weight of Javier leaning back against it that you notice he’s there.

With a jump, you clutch your blouse over your pounding heart and gasp, “Jesus fu—Hi, Agent Peña.” 

He comes to rest just inches away from your chair, arms crossed over his chest as he frowns down at you. Dangling between two of his knuckles is the red envelope you left in his mailbox earlier. Adrenaline pumps thick and hot through your veins. 

Your hands feel numb as you meet his gaze and manage to ask, “Can I help you with something?”

His jaw cocks to the side and he raises an eyebrow at you, then tosses the red envelope onto your desk, “What’s this?” 

“I—I—” you shake your head and widen your eyes, glancing between him and the letter. 

“Don’t play dumb,” he interjects. 

You swallow hard and hold your eyes steady on his as they bore into you. It’s a standoff. You don’t even dare to breathe. The silence is deafening. 

Javier breaks it as he clears his throat and picks the creamy white paper up off your desk, then unfolds it. Your stomach drops to the floor. 

He reads it aloud in a gravelly purr: 

“Oh, how I long to devour you. To unhinge my jaw And swallow you whole.  Do you feel it too?  Do you ache with hunger when I’m near? When I meet your starving eyes, I know.”

Your eyes stay trained on his as he peers over the paper at you like he expects you to say something. But you don’t. Your skin buzzes electric when he rolls his tongue against his pouty lips, along the edge of his dark mustache, then drags his gaze down the length of you. 

Javier sets the paper back onto your desk, taking a look around before he leans in and murmurs, “I do. I know.”

Then he digs into the pocket of his tan suit pocket and takes out a folded slip of paper. He pulls it away just as you go to reach for it. When your fingers curl back and you blink up at him in question, he searches your face, “This stays between us, ok?” 

“Of course,” you nod. 

His throat rumbles, eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, then he extends the paper to you again. This time when you go to take it, he lets it slide out from between his fingers into yours. 

“Come by when you’re done here,” he says, more of a demand than a request. 

“I will,” you try to suppress the grin stretching across your lips. 

Javier taps two fingers against your desk, then pushes off it and saunters back down the hallway, giving you a quick backwards glance before turning the corner. 

You look around to make sure no one is watching, then unfold the note, revealing an address written in his angular, messy script. Below this, it reads: 

Starved. 

—

Your knuckles rap two quick knocks against the door before Javier swings it open. His darkened gaze slides down your body like molasses as he steps back and lets you enter the apartment. The scent of his cologne wafts into your nose as you pass him. It’s light and crisp, clean smelling, contrasting his whiskey breath. 

You slide out of your heels and set your purse onto the ground, then study the dwelling with curiosity, dropping down two steps into the living room on your way to a leather couch. The walls are painted a cream color, pastel green and pink spliced here and there. It doesn’t seem to represent Javier at all. You figure the apartment was furnished by the Embassy, like yours. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air like a dense fog. It’s tediously quiet. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, striding over to a stand-alone dry bar, which hosts a variety of amber colored liquors. 

“Sure,” you answer as you sit down on the couch, smoothing out the black dress you changed into before walking over here. 

Javier doesn’t ask what you want to drink. He just pours two glasses of whiskey and hands one to you while he lowers himself onto the other end of the loveseat. 

Which, it’s a loveseat, so he’s still intimidatingly close. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, then swallow a mouthful of the alcohol, wincing at the burn as it travels down your throat. 

It’s not until now you realize you’ve never been alone with him. You’ve only experienced his intensity from afar. The way his eyes linger on you, seeming to study you when he thinks you won’t notice. 

But you’ve noticed. 

And you like it. 

You’ve been careful to only leave hints of your wanting. Flicking your gaze to his when you feel it on your skin. Holding it there until your heart starts pounding and one of you looks away. Letting your body brush against him in passing. No words spoken, only heated eye contact and near-touching. Following an acute awareness of the way you’re drawn to him, how fervently your blood courses through your veins when he’s near, how his presence seems to tug at the edges of you. 

“Did you write that yourself?” he inquires now. You take another sip and look up at him, meeting his eyes. 

It’s unbearable. Yet, you don’t want it to stop. Like magnets are buried beneath your skin and his, opposite poles, aching to meet in equilibrium. 

“I did,” you admit quietly, then tilt your head at him with curiosity, “Did you like it?” 

He hums and nods, glancing down at your mouth, “I’ve been watching you. I see the way you look at me.” 

“I know,” you respond in a whisper. The confession sends your heart racing… but you feel emboldened. You tip the glass to your lips and let the remaining whiskey slide down your throat, then lean forward to set the empty cup on his coffee table and scoot closer to him as you settle back into the couch. 

Javier sits up to place his drink on the table, and when he returns, he’s only inches away. He brings his breath to your ear and murmurs, “You like it, don’t you? The attention?” 

“Yes,” you answer. His hand rests on your knee, a branding iron that heats your core and steals the air from your lungs. 

“Teasing me with those short skirts,” he travels up your thigh, letting his rough palm drag along your skin. The touch sends a shock wave of pleasure across your body. 

You whimper and your eyes flutter shut. 

His voice lowers to a rasp, “Staring at me with those fuck-me-eyes. You think I wouldn’t know it was you?”

He stops at the crease of your thigh and grips the tender flesh, pulling a wanton moan from your throat as your head falls back against the couch. 

“Look at me,” he demands, so your eyes blink open and you meet his heated, meticulous gaze, “Do you want this?”

“I want this,” you nod, bringing a hand to his cheek, working your thumb against the grain of his stubble. He studies your face, dropping his eyes to your mouth, kneading your thigh, drawing closer. 

You succumb to his beckoning lips, capturing them in a kiss. Fire sparks in your chest and spreads through your veins like wildfire, spreading to him as your tongues meet, rolling soft and wet, whiskey harsh on your shared breath. 

Then he’s on you all at once. 

Pushing your back flush to the couch cushions, rocking his hand against the seam of your panties, sliding the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders, liquefying your insides into molten need. He rids you of the red lace thong, tossing it on the floor while your trembling fingers unfasten the buttons of his shirt. You splay your fingers across his chest and slip the shirt off his shoulders. It joins your abandoned lingerie, followed by your dress, then his pants. 

Javier pauses to study your naked body, lust-blown eyes trailing along every inch of your exposed skin, hands dragging up your legs. You examine him, too. His smooth, bronzed skin. His broad shoulders. His lean frame. His swollen, needy cock. 

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you breathe, reaching out to him, rolling your hips against nothing, aching with lust. 

Your compliment pulls a rumble from his throat, then he returns to your body, to your lips. His warmth sends shockwaves down your spine. You arch your back into the sensation, drinking up every ounce of heat your thirsty skin can lap up. 

When he touches the slick pool between the legs, spreading your arousal up and down your slit, you both moan into the other’s mouth, and he pants, “So fucking wet.”

You slide your hands around his shoulders, whimpering, nodding, reveling in the exquisite heat stoked at your center, urging him to continue with a breathy moan, “Don’t stop—fuck, that’s so good—”

He groans and captures your lips in his, kissing you hard, messy, working you faster, and the flames licking your insides continue to grow hotter, breaking you out into a sweat, making you gasp and moan against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut and it’s just this aching, heated bliss building at the base of your spine, and your pleas for him not to stop, and his skin on yours, his mouth planting wet kisses down your jaw, your neck, his moans of secondhand pleasure vibrating down your middle, fueling this brilliant concentrated ball of fire burning a hole inside you until you reach the edge of something and push past it.

Ecstasy washes over your body and steals the air from your lungs. You release a shattered breath and start to free fall, but his touch doesn’t relent, and your body shakes with pleasure that’s too intense to bear, legs clamping shut around his arm as you start to whimper at the stimulation. 

Javier pulls back when your legs go jelly, his chest heaving, eyes wild and black and glued to yours. His pink tongue rolls against his lips, then they pout out into an O when he drags his fingers through your release. Your hips jerk at the jolt of his touch, heavy eyelids fluttering as you moan, and he smirks, “Wanna move this to the bedroom?” 

You bite down on the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip as your gaze drops to his engorged length, and you manage to respond, “Uh-huh.”

He stands and starts towards his bedroom. You follow him on wobbly legs, head swimming, ears buzzing. 

Just like the common areas of his apartment, his room is decorated tastefully and obviously courtesy of the Embassy. It’s surprisingly neat, though, the dark walnut chest of drawers cleared of clutter and personal effects, hardwood floor unencumbered by piles of dirty laundry, dark walnut four-post bed dressed with white linens. Based on the constant state of disarray his desk is in, you expected it to be messier, and wonder if he cleaned up for you. 

Javier strides over to a side table and pulls a condom out of its drawer. While he wraps himself up, you settle at the edge of his bed, legs dangling off the side as your eyes trail down his shoulders, his arms, the defined muscles of his back, swallowing hard when he turns to face you. 

He takes the two short steps to settle his hips between your knees and hums, bringing a hand to your chin, tilting your head up towards him as he presses his forehead to yours and purrs, “Is this what you wanted, sweetheart? Hmm? For me to fuck you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper, linking your hands at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer, feeling his breath puff hot against your mouth, grip on your chin tightening.

His lips find yours and he kisses you slowly, deliberately, with a tender sort of reverence that tightens around your skin and makes you whimper. The noise spurs something inside him. He cups your cheeks and picks up speed, climbing onto the bed, pushing you onto your back. 

It completely consumes you, the way his mouth works against yours, the way you writhe against each other, touch roaming, both of you tugging and rubbing and digging your fingers in and moaning at the fire blazing between your sweaty bodies. 

When the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, you wrap your legs around his back and arch against him, panting, “Fuck yes, give it to me.”

He stares down at you, holding your gaze as he plunges forward, working you open, and both your faces contort with pleasure. 

“Fuuuck,” he groans as he starts to rut into you at a steady pace. Every single nerve ending he rubs against buzzes with ecstasy. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair and you pull him closer, pressing your lips to his, immersing yourself in a series of messy, frantic kisses, swallowing each other's moans, working your bodies in tandem to fuel the hungry flames. You start to roll your hips against his thrusts, each one accumulating hot and gooey and tingling, tugging at the edges of you as you whimper, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—” 

“That’s it, baby,” Javier pants, his voice jumping in time with his hips as he drives into you, “So fucking good—feel so fucking good—” 

He kisses you then, and his eager lips, his soft tongue, the scent of whiskey on his breath, the burn of his mustache scratching your skin, the blissful ache of him stretching you again and again, it fully engulfs your body, like you’re melting together, the heat between you too great, the fire too intense to remain whole because this glowing molten core is growing wider and hotter with each moan, each touch, each thrust, and you beg Javier not to stop, fuck, don’t fucking stop, and he steals the words from your mouth with his own, fucking you hard and fast just like you knew he would, pushing you closer and closer to bliss, and then you reach it.

For one second, you’re suspended right at the edge, mind blank, body humming. Then it hits you, and it hits you fucking hard, euphoria breaking you into pieces and tearing a sob from your throat. Javier’s hips stutter as your muscles tense and your pussy convulses around him. He gasps against your mouth, then shudders as he finds his release. Both of your bodies slow their pace, cooling to a crawl, then a stop. 

The sound of your labored breaths fills the bedroom, heaving chests working against each other as sanity starts to return and your bodies struggle to recover. He rolls off of you and stretches out across his bed, inhaling deep and wide, exhaling a content hum. 

Then, without a word, he gets up and leaves the room. 

Your guts twist into a knot. It should give you whiplash, how fast you go from total satisfaction to nervous wreck. 

Since moving to Colombia for this job, sex has been a rare occurrence for you. And by that, you mean… it doesn’t happen. Even before the move, a series of long-term relationships have been your only claim to sexual experience. So this situation is uncharted territory. 

But you’re pretty sure this is your cue to get the fuck out. 

While staring at the ceiling, you kick yourself for giving him the note, for putting yourself in this position. Shame simmers hot under your skin when you try to imagine what it’ll be like the next time you see Javier at work. When you’ll both know what happened here tonight, but pretend it was nothing. 

Why do you have to feel this burning desire for someone like him? For someone so intimidating and closed off? And, more perplexing still, does he feel it for you? 

Your chest and throat tighten when it dawns on you that he probably doesn’t feel the same as you. Maybe he saw an opportunity to get laid and took it. Maybe… it was nothing to him. 

You sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed, peering out the bedroom door a moment before hopping down and padding across the hardwood floor into the living room. 

He’s doing something in the kitchen, so you fold your arms in front of your body and make your way over to the couch, snatching your clothes off the ground before you sit and start to get dressed. 

As you pull your dress down over your head, he returns to the living room. He’s wearing jeans now, but remains shirtless, and a lit cigarette dangles from his lips. 

You glance up at him and mutter, “Sorry, I can get out of your hair. Thank you for, um… indulging me.”

He plops down next to you and crushes the burning ember of his cigarette into a glass ashtray on the coffee table, then leans back and extends his arm along the couch behind you, frowning, “You’re leaving?”

“I—I guess, right?” you turn and search his face, meeting his eyes that are all puppy dog soft. They tug at your heartstrings, but you continue to stammer onward, “That’s—I don’t know, that’s what I’m supposed to do, right?” 

“If that’s what you want,” he shrugs, dropping his gaze to your lips. 

While you stare at him and try to understand what the fuck that means, he leans close, brushing his hand against your cheek, “Or, you could stay… we can ‘indulge’ ourselves again.”

“Is that what you want?” you ask in an attempt to parse out his intentions. 

“Is that what you want?” he counters in a low voice, furrowing his brow. 

You bite down on your bottom lip and nod, then blink and shrug, “I mean, if that’s what you—”

His lips cut you off before you can embarrass yourself more.

—

You woke up with the sun. Javier was still holding you close, his shallow, dream-drenched breath spreading across the nape of your neck in soft puffs. You wriggled out of bed and collected your things, then walked the city block to your apartment and got ready for work. 

The day passes by like any other, with the exception of your strained muscles making every movement more difficult. You don’t cross paths with Javier, but when you return to your desk after lunch, there’s a red envelope sticking out of your typewriter. 

You take a cursory glance around, then pluck it out and open it. A smile spreads across your face when you read the note inside. 

Roses are red  Violets are blue  Come over tonight  I want to see you XO, Your Secret Admirer

[anothermansjeans]

Hey i hope you get your mojo back! As my personal indulagance which hopefully also help you may i please requeat 6 and 8 from the first random dialoge list with spencer read and an NONbau reader, exstra love if its an neighrbour reader!

Love and kisses ❤️❤️❤️

thank youuuuuu!!!! i also want to apologize-- you didn't specify gn or fem! reader and i was just about done when i realized i did fem!reader, so lmk and i will happily rewrite if needed 🫶

i also don't know how i feel about this but i tried lmao

also only a little proofread...

prompts:

"Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn’t have to completely fall apart."

"This is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty."

cw: mention of family member dying, the word vomit being used

wc: 920

++

Spencer was very concerned. His neighbor– his very attractive, down to Earth, and kind neighbor– was frantic, eyes sunken, and just wasn't as… present as she usually is. Spencer was concerned.

His concern also may have been a bit biased because of the small crush he harbored for her… but he didn't want to think about that too hard.

He hadn't been around much recently, getting called into the BAU more often than not, but when time did allow him to linger around his building, he would see the distress on her from a mile away. The other day, right before a case, he was locking up his apartment when she was just getting home. It was quiet this time of day, but that was cut short when her phone started to ring.

“This is the one time I’m wishing they're calling about my car’s extended warranty.”

Her disgruntled mumble was pretty soft, and if Spencer wasn't right across the hall from her he wouldn't have heard it. He wanted to see if she was okay, but she answered her phone and he was being asked for his ETA at the BAU.

When that case was finally over, and he was walking back to his place, he suddenly stopped and turned towards her door. There was a package in his apartment that was placed with his mail in the mailroom, and only really looked at it last week; right before he left for a case. He would've given it to her then if he wasn't already late at the time, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving it in front of her door so this was truly the next best thing.

His plan was the following: knock on your door, tell you he has your package in his apartment, grab said package, and then leave with dignity. There was no way he could screw this up.

His knock was soft, but the way she swung open the door was a sharp contrast to that. “Please tell me this is the part where my life doesn't have to completely fall apart oh– you're not the delivery guy.”

Your dejected look caused a small ache in his chest. “No, but the delivery people tend to not come to our doors, they're supposed to stay in the mail room– you already knew that.” He was getting flustered. This was not a part of the plan. “Are you okay?” He couldn't help himself. After seeing the way you were last week, and how that hasn't changed one bit since he was gone… he really wanted to make sure all was well.

She barely waited a moment before answering. “No,” the crack in her voice was evident. “My great aunt passed and she was a horrible person, but the funeral directors were asking me which address to send the urn to and my sister stepped in making sure I didn't put mine down because I’m ‘most likely to lose aunt Pearl’s ashes’ and the rest of my family overheard and started running with the joke. With me being me I wanted to prove them wrong so I did give them my address and I still don't have the urn but they're saying it was delivered and oh my, God, I’m dumping all of this on you.” Her eyes were welled up with tears, and with how wide her eyes became he was surprised the tears hadn't started to fall. “I’m just going to… let you go on with your day. I’m so sorry, Spencer, maybe we can talk to–” she started to close the door, blocking her face that held a worrisome look.

“I have it!” It’s as if he suddenly remembered why he went over there in the first place “I’m uh, I'm assuming I have it…?”

“You do?” Her door was now wide open again, and a spark of hope was shown in her eyes.

“Yeah, that's why I came over here. I just got back from work and wanted to let you know before I grabbed it. They put it with my stuff and I didn't check it until a couple of days ago and then I had a case and–”

“Spencer?” She cut off his worried rambling.

“Yes?”

“Could you grab it please?”

“Oh! Yeah!” He was like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. His legs were not keeping up with his body as he quickly walked over to his place, unlocked his door, and made way for the box over in the corner by his bookcase. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ve been at work more than not recently and I should've brought it over as soon as I knew it was yours but–”

“Oh, I could kiss you right now!” She grabbed the box so fast it could be considered snatching, but Spencer didn't mind.

“Maybe after I take you on a date?” What the hell was that? She was excited, he was flustered, and for him, word vomit was real. “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I–”

“Spencer…” She stopped his worried ramble once again, and Spencer assumed he died and went to Heaven because there was no way the next words out of her mouth were real. “Ask me tomorrow, when I’m not all flustered. I’ll definitely say yes.”

Yeah, he definitely died and went to Heaven, because the next day, he saw her walking back from the grocery store, walked up to her, stuttered through asking her out for real, and she said yes. Just as promised.

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Mr. Mailman | Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Natasha has a crush on the mailman :)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Mild language

Word Count: 1.7K

Masterlist

A/N: This was an anon request. Enjoy!

“What’s wrong with her?” Sam asked as he watched Natasha forlornly stir her coffee while staring out the window.  

“She’s upset Y/N won’t notice her,” Yelena explained.

“Shut up,” Nat snapped, shaking her head and snapping herself out of her fantasy.

“I’m not wrong.  You’ve had his eye on him ever since he first showed up!”

“I said shut up!” While her tone was harsh, the blush creeping across her face told a different story.  It was true.  Natasha Romanoff, normally the stoic, unattached assassin, had a crush.  

From the first day Y/N L/N stepped foot on the Avengers’ compound as the new Stark Industries delivery driver, Natasha was absolutely smitten.  She didn’t know what it was.  Maybe it was the way his biceps bulged as he pulled the truck full of packages through the loading dock.  Or maybe it was the flourish he used flipping the clipboard back to the dock manager after signing the package transfer.  But truth be told it was the way he glanced up from the clipboard and smiled at Natasha the first day he saw her.  Ever since then she used every excuse in the book to be at the loading dock or mailroom whenever he was there.

******

You never anticipated that your first job after college would be a delivery driver for Stark Industries, but here you were.  While it wasn’t the office job you anticipated, driving the delivery truck was actually pretty cool.  Getting to step foot on the Avengers compound every day was cool.  Having Tony Stark as your boss was cool.  Sneaking a glance at Natasha Romanoff whenever you could?  Cool isn’t the exact word you’d use for that.

The first time you laid eyes on Nat was your first day of work.  You were signing for some packages that were being transferred from the compound to the main site when she walked by.  She was passing through, on her way to some other location.  All you did was look at her and smile.  She flashed a quick grin in your general direction before speeding off.  That was the last time she actually made eye contact with you, but it wasn’t the last time you saw her.  Most days she was either in the mailroom or the loading dock whenever you got there.  No words were exchanged between the two of you, but she was always there.  Sometimes you sensed her looking at you, but she quickly glanced away when you looked over at her.

Natasha was gorgeous, there was no doubt about that.  You never missed an opportunity to steal a quick glance whenever she passed by.  But you were always too scared to actually strike up a conversation with her.  She was the Black Widow: something about asking one of the world’s fiercest assassins out for coffee intimidated you.  There was always the slight risk that an unwanted advance would end in your assassination.  So you kept your distance for reasons of personal safety…or that’s what you told yourself.

******

“As the resident expert on waiting too long, don’t.”

“Drop it, Steve,” Nat chided.  “I don’t even like him.”

“Oh, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one,” Steve chuckled, dodging the coffee cup that came flying at his head.  “It’s okay if you like him!  I’ve talked to him a few times and he’s a nice guy.”

“No.  No, it’s not okay.  I wouldn’t know what to do if he liked me back…” she trailed off.

“You go out for coffee.  You talk, you get to know each other.”

“Steve I…I’ve never actually dated anyone before!” Natasha blurted.  Red crept up her cheeks as she finally admitted the one truth she never spoke aloud.  The only other person who knew the truth was Yelena and even she was sworn to secrecy.

“What?” 

“I know how to seduce people.  That’s part of the job and I do it well.  But it’s just the job.  I’ve never done it for real.”

“Come on, you’re kidding.  What about Connor?” Steve was shocked at the revelation.  He set his coffee cup down on the counter and rubbed his beard as he stared at Natasha.  

“That was a cover for the joint mission with MI6.”

“Lillian?”

“SHIELD mission.”

“David from Accounting?”

“Daniel.  Just sex.”

Steve didn’t say anything: he just stared.  Natasha glanced at her feet, kicking the ground in front of her as an awkward tension spread over the room.  She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole just to get her out of such an uncomfortable situation.

“Nat-”

“No one’s going to want to go out with a woman who’s never been on a date before,” Natasha replied tersely.  She gulped the lump that was slowly creeping up her throat as she once again swallowed her pride.  

It’s not that she didn’t want to eventually partner up with someone, in fact it was quite the opposite.  After so many years of excuses, she just figured it would never happen to her.  The possibility of something finally working out scared her.  Natasha worried she wouldn’t know what to do.  Sex was one thing.  That was transactional, something both parties rendered knowing there weren’t any strings attached.  Intimacy?  That involved being vulnerable and saying how you felt.  After so many years living so many lies Natasha wasn’t sure she was capable of such openness.  

“You’ll never know unless you try,” Steve encouraged, placing a hand on her shoulder.  

“Cut the bullshit, Steve,” Natasha snapped as she shook his hand from her body.  “We both know it’s not that simple.”

“It is with the right guy.”

******

Should be good after this last trip, you thought to yourself as you pushed the overflowing mail cart down the winding hallway toward the mailroom.  It was cold and rainy, a miserable day to be on the road, and all you wanted was to get out of there, drive the truck back to the city, and head to your apartment in Queens.  All that was left was sorting the mail and putting it in the right mailboxes.

The mailroom was a convoluted maze of boxes, bins, tubes, and chutes.  Everything had a specific spot and it was easy to mess up at first.  Once you got the hang of it, sorting everything out wasn’t too bad.  What once took over an hour only took you twenty or so minutes now.  Plopping the cart down in front of the mailboxes, you got to work stuffing envelopes, packages, and postcards where they belonged.  The work was mindless, meditative almost.  Once you got into the rhythm of it your brain shut off and muscle memory took over.  Today you were so in the zone that you didn’t notice the redhead walk into the room behind you, so when you turned around the shock of realizing you weren’t alone made you drop your armful of envelopes.

“Oh great,” you muttered, stooping down to pick up the papers.

“Here, let me-”

“No, it’s fine-”

“No, it’s my fault.  Let me help you.”  

You watched as the redhead knelt down in front of you, raking papers toward herself.  It was the first time you were ever that close to Natasha Romanoff.  A more looming, intimidating figure in your mind, she was surprisingly smaller and less threatening up close and in sweatpants.  If you didn’t know any better, you wouldn’t even know that she’s a trained assassin.  She was so unobtrusive, so inconspicuous.  She was also so, so incredibly beautiful. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that you were in here,” you sheepishly apologized as you stared down at the red ponytail that was flopping back and forth.  

“I have a bad habit of sneaking up on people,” Natasha admitted.

“Understandable,” you chuckled.  Natasha gave a slight smile as she handed you some envelopes.  God her eyes were the brightest green you’d ever seen.  You grabbed the envelopes from her, holding onto them and locking eyes with her for far too long.  Suddenly realizing you were actually a human being on earth currently existing in the moment, you cleared your throat abruptly and looked down at the letters.

“A lot of mail today,” Natasha mumbled.  She snapped her head toward the mailbox, trying to hide the redness spreading over her cheeks.  “Are you always this busy?”

“Uhhh, no.  Not always.  Normally it’s not this bad.  Did y’all collectively decide that today was the best day to order from Amazon?”

“That’s either Bucky or Yelena.  My sister’s always buying stuff she doesn’t need and Bucky loves the novelty of next-day delivery.  I think it’s that whole ‘born over a hundred years ago’ thing.”

“Funny.  Most of these packages are for you,” you teased, thrusting a stack of envelopes in her direction.  

“What on earth?” Natasha fumbled the packages, completely confused as to why she had so many packages when she didn’t remember ordering anything.  You watched as her eyes furrowed in utter confusion.  Her bewilderment was equally amusing and adorable.  “This has to be some sort of mistake.”

“I just deliver the mail, ma’am,” you replied.

“And make me feel old, Mr. Mailman.  You can call me Natasha.”

“It’s Y/N, but you can call me Mr. Mailman if that makes you feel better.”

“How about I just call you instead?” Natasha blurted without realizing what she was saying.

“What?”  

The second she realized what she just said, Natasha became totally overwhelmed with embarrassment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” she mumbled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.  “I’ll just-thanks for the packages.  Have a good weekend.”  She scrambled to pick up what she could before making a beeline for the door.

“Natasha, wait!” you heard yourself calling.  “Please just wait, please, ummm…”  She paused, still looking down at her packages as she faced away from you.  “Umm, coffee?  I mean, d’you want to get coffee?  Not right now, I’ve still gotta get the truck back to the city.  But maybe tomorrow?  Or I can do Sunday if tomorrow doesn’t work.  Basically whenever you’re free I can clear my schedule.  If you want.  No pressure.”

“Alright.”

“Sooooo tomorrow then?”

“Yeah.  Tomorrow.”  She glanced behind herself, shooting you a half grin that she was failing to stop from becoming a full on smile.

“Cool.  Great.  Awesome.  Yeah, see you tomorrow,” you replied, totally breathless and in shock at the situation.  A coffee date with Natasha Romanoff…what could go wrong?

[lovemesomeeddiemunson]

The Proposal - Part 1

Summary: When Steve Harrington is threatened with deportation, he blackmails his long suffering assistant, Eddie Munson, into marrying him. Steddie! The Proposal Au, Modern Au, Part 1 of 7. 4291 Words

Series Warnings: Blackmail. Food mentions. Mentions of unhealthy relationship with food. Cursing. Self harm (by means of tattooing.) Homophobia. Death of a parent. Abandonment by parents. Shitty parents. Homophobic parents. Parents with entitlement. Classism. Eventual sexual situations (no actual smut!) Brief allusion to a panic attack. Minor spoilers for Flight of Icarus.

Authors Note:  Hi there! I'm Dom, occasional dabbler in fanfiction. I started writing this story on June 29th, 2024. Roughly 30k in total parts later, and I'm unleashing her piece by piece 😂 This has been a true labor of love, and I hope someone out there enjoys reading it even a fraction of as much as I enjoyed writing it. Steddie forever.

Eddie Munson wakes up on a Monday morning immediately concerned by the amount of sunlight coming into his bedroom. 

Scrambling to sit up, his bleary eyes fell on the blinking red numbers of the alarm clock that had definitely reset at some point in the night, and was now mocking him with what was no doubt a wildly inaccurate time.

Filled with dread, he snatches up his wrist watch that's sat in front of it, peering into the little face before he screams, “Fuck!” Launching himself from his bed a moment later, cursing his luck.

He is so late.

He’s got a mere nineteen minutes before he’s supposed to be in the office with his nightmare boss’s morning coffee and protein box, or all hell will break loose. 

And with as many soul-crushing years as he’s poured into this job, he’s determined not to lose it over breakfast.

Desperate to save his own ass, he gets ready in record time, rushing out of the door with his work clothes in disarray as he speeds down the busy city street.

He’s cutting it way too close - but he’s hopeful he can make it - right up until he’s forced to skid to a stop as he breaches the front door of the Starbucks. 

A long line looms in front of him, the morning rush in full swing by this point of the morning, and his face falls at the sight.

However, before his devastation can fully settle in, he hears the call of “Eddie!” A hand behind the counter shooting up as a voice shouts out. “Your usual!” 

Tammy, a barista who’s been serving (and flirting with) him every day for as long as he can remember, smiles brightly as he jumps the line, handing him off two coffee cups in a carrier, along with a bag containing his boss’s breakfast order.

“Oh shit! You literally saved my life! Thank you so much Tammy!” Eddie drops a fifty on the counter from his emergency cash as he goes. The barista titters behind one of her hands at him, pushing a lock of tousled hair behind her ear as he bolts for the office.

He makes it to his building a few minutes later, just barely catching the elevator. Once it shuts behind him, Eddie promptly folds in half, chest heaving, practically wheezing to catch his breath.

Cursing himself for not being in better shape, he dismisses his coworker’s alarmed looks and manages to compose himself by the time he reaches his floor. Rushing out as his coworker Sam shouts “You’re cutting it close!” at him. 

“I know! I know!” Eddie’s replying, in such a hurry to get to his desk that he doesn’t account for the slow reflexes of the mailroom employee who’s come up to make his morning delivery. 

The two promptly crash into each other, one of the cups of coffee a casualty of their collision.

“Fuck!” Eddie exclaims. The hot liquid is now clinging to his button-down, and he can vaguely see the shape of the death of his career aspirations in the stain starting to form.

“Sorry!” The mailman sheepishly says, looking uselessly for something to clean it with before Eddie waves him off, muttering about how he was equally to blame.

Even so. Lamenting his no good, terrible, very bad, morning, he rushes to his coworkers cubicle, saying in lieu of greeting to him, “I need the shirt off your back, literally.” 

Patrick, it seems, could not care any less, looking disdainfully at Eddie’s ruined button down. “You’re kidding, right?” 

Eddie doesn’t have time for this. He resorts to bribery. “Red Hot Chili Peppers. This Friday. Two tickets and company VIP passes for your shirt. You have five seconds to decide.” Glances at the clock and starts to count down. “Five, four-“

“Deal.” Patrick mutters before popping the buttons of his shirt, and shrugging it off. Eddie does the same, giving him the stained shirt and donning the clean one as he starts to hear small pinging sounds throughout the office, notifications going from desktop to desktop. 

Just as Eddie is buttoning the last of the buttons, pulling his long hair from where it had gotten stuck in one of them from his haste, he dives into his chair, reading the chat that pops up from @Samantha.Stone that reads, HBIC incoming! 

The rest of the office reacts to her message accordingly. High heels are slipped on in place of comfortable flats, pocket mirrors are pulled out to make sure eyeliner is just so and that there’s no incriminating spinach in between teeth. Casual magazines are shoved away and spreadsheets pulled up - rosaries are clutched tight and prayed with. Like it’ll help.

At Sam’s warning, Eddie takes his place outside of the glass doors to his boss’s office. Righting himself, he straightens out his clothing and fixes his hair, holding out the coffee cup that was supposed to be his in one hand and the plastic breakfast box in the other.

Lo and behold, moments later, just as Sam had forewarned, the demon himself appears. 

Steve fucking Harrington. 

With his perfect untouchable hair and pristine suit, his discerning hazel eyes are locked in on his phone, not even noticing the fake smile Eddie puts on as he approaches, his walk brisk and evenly measured as Eddie chirps. “Morning boss! You have a half an hour until your conference call.” 

Steve doesn’t even look up from his phone as he nods in disinterest, leaving Eddie with the task of handing him the hot coffee and breakfast all while taking his bag from him, without dropping anything. 

“Yes I know.” He replies dryly. 

“Staff meeting at 9.” Eddie continues, as he walks into the office behind him, Steve settling into his large leather chair. 

“Did you call… um…” Steve groans, spinning said chair to face the desk, “Uh, what’s her name? The one with the ugly hands?” He snaps his fingers repeatedly as if that will speed the answer along. 

“Yes.” Eddie offers. Knowing who he means, nodding as he passes him a stack of papers. 

Steve goes into it immediately, flipping post-its and thumbing through pages. Eddie continues, “Yes, I did call her. I told her your thoughts about her client's new album and the deadline for getting the finalizations to the sound engineers.” 

Steve hands some of the papers back to him, straightening the remainders as Eddie goes on about the tasks on the agenda for today. “Also, your immigration lawyer called. He said it’s imperative that you-” Eddie’s words come to a stop when Steve raises his hand.

“Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets.” Steve pauses in his work, a bit of smugness to his tone as he adds. “Oh, and get a hold of PR, have them start drafting a press release. The little songbird my colleagues so generously called ‘unattainable’ is now performing at the Grammys.” 

Eddie’s eyes widened in awe. No matter how much of a terror his boss was, he was impressive in his own right, “Wow. Nicely done.” He compliments.

Steve scoffs, turning in his chair to his computer screen, all confidence and bitchiness as he replies. “If I want your praise, I will ask for it.” 

Eddie takes the words as a dismissal. Steve wasn’t going to ever actually ask him for praise. Eddie’s praise didn’t mean shit to someone like Steve.

So he goes, and as he does so, Steve moves to drink his coffee, pausing when he notices something unusual on his cup.

He clears his throat to catch his subordinate’s attention and Eddie stops walking, pausing in the doorway.

“Who is— who is Tammy Thompson? And why does she want me to call her?” Steve’s eyebrows are raised as he turns the coffee cup to show the side where it says, Call me! Above a phone number, signed enthusiastically by said Tammy Thompson, with a sharpie heart.

Eddie pales at the sight. Floundering as he timidly explains. “Well… that was originally my cup.” 

Steve looks down at the cup with scorn, voice dull. “And I’m drinking your coffee why?” 

Eddie is grappling. “Because your coffee spilled.”

Steve takes a sip, and after doing so, his tone becomes accusatory. “So, you drink lavender oat milk lattes?” He asks. 

“I do.” Eddie nods. 

Steve smirks at him then, “Is that a coincidence?” 

“Incredibly, it is.” The phone rings, and Eddie feels a small semblance of security that he can keep his job a little while longer as he crosses the room to answer it, “I mean, I wouldn’t possibly drink the same coffee you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be pathetic.” Eddie chuckles, voice laced with sarcasm as he picks up the phone. 

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington’s office.” Eddie greets. 

“Hey, Munson. It’s Hargrove.” Eddie hears as he spares a glance at Steve - who's already found something else to scrutinize if his back being to him with his fingers clicking away at the keyboard is any indication. 

“Hey, Mr. Hargrove.” Eddie responds, his words causing Steve to turn around abruptly, with a wicked smile that immediately unsettles him.

“Just confirming Steve and I are still on for our 8:10, this morning. He emailed me about it last night.” 

Eddie looks at Steve with a confused expression, answering reflexively although he had no prior knowledge of this meeting. “Actually, we’re headed to your office right now.” He puts the phone down when Billy’s line goes dead. 

“Why are we headed to Hargrove’s office?” He questions Steve, who gives him a dry look in response that Eddie interprets as ‘What’s it to you? You do as I say.’

A fair point if he’s being honest. And, rather than wait for an answer that won’t come, Eddie rushes ahead of Steve, beating him out of the door with a second to spare as he gets to his keyboard, working quickly to send a message office wide. 

@Edward_Munson: *is typing…*

Dings sound as his message goes out.

HE’S ON THE MOVE!

The notification spreads, alerting the whole floor as they all scramble to pretend to be working just as Steve comes strutting out of his office. 

Eddie follows him at a quick pace, trying to ignore his brain playing the imperial march after them as he takes advantage of this rare moment where Steve has nothing in front of him to ask, “Have you listened to my demo yet?” 

“Uh, I listened to the first few songs.” Steve responds, surprised, before the cool expression comes back, “I wasn’t that impressed.” 

Eddie sighs, disappointment stinging as he bites his lip, “Can I say something?” 

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “No.” 

Eddie persists, “I know my music, okay? There’s an album here. A good one - the kind of album you used to produce.” 

Steve rolls his eyes, “Uh, wrong. Also, don’t ever imply that I don’t still produce good albums, and, for what it’s worth, I do think you order the same coffee as me, just in case you spill. Which is, in fact, pathetic.” 

“Or impressive.” Eddie counters weakly. 

“It’d be impressive if you didn’t spill it in the first place.” As they approach the office they're aiming for, he reminds Eddie, “Now remember, you’re just a prop in here.” 

“Won’t say a word.” Eddie mutters, and follows Steve inside as he waltzes right up to their coworkers desk, the other man barely looking up to acknowledge him.

Ouch. Eddie knows Steve won’t take that lightly…and his stomach becomes unsettled by the display of testosterone he knows he’s about to witness.

They get right to it. 

“Our fearless leader, and his right hand man.” William “Billy” Hargrove jeers, still without pausing whatever it is he’s doing on his laptop. “So nice of you to visit my office.”

“Ah.” The side of Steve’s mouth quirks up in a smile, eyeing his office furniture. “Nice desk. Is it new?” 

“It is. Handcrafted. No one does artisanship like the Italians.” Billy replies without looking up. 

His statement, in their present company, could have easily been misconstrued as flattery - but Eddie knows better. Billy Hargrove doesn’t care enough to appeal to Steve, and so if he’s saying it, he must truly believe it.

Not that it would have worked anyways. Steve takes in his answer as he laments with a small sigh, mumbling “So true.” Like the fact of it is tragic, before he leads right into his next thought, with no hesitation or sympathy, declaring, “Billy, I am letting you go.”

Hargrove looks up from his computer then - eyes wide with disbelief, and even Eddie - who thought he knew Steve well - is looking at Steve with barely contained shock. 

“Excuse me?” Billy repeats, glancing at Eddie who expertly avoids his eyes as he closes the door in order to stop anyone from listening in on their conversation. 

Billy looks back at their boss as Steve goes on. “I asked you over a dozen times to get the performer I wanted for the Grammys, and you didn’t do it. You didn’t even try, did you?” 

“T-They’re unattainable-“ the other man stammers.

“And yet just this morning, I attained them.” Steve replied. Clicking his tongue in disappointment. 

“But…” Billy starts. 

Steve smiles sarcastically, nodding, “I know. I know. Celebrities can be a little scary. For you. That’s okay.” He placates. 

Moving across the office as he makes the other man an offer. “Now, I will give you two months to find another job, and then you can tell everyone that you resigned, okay?” 

Satisfied with his own generosity, Steve turns toward Eddie, motioning for him to open the door. They both walk out of the office hastily. 

Once they’re out of ear shot, his boss’ eyes shift to Eddie, walking at his side. “What's his 20?” Steve whispers at him, making Eddie look back for him. 

Behind them, Billy’s pacing in his office like a caged animal, pulling at his hair. “He’s moving. He has crazy eyes.” Eddie whispers back as he tries to match Steve’s steps. 

Steve frowns deeply, still whispering. “Don’t do it, Billy. Don’t do it.”

But it happens. Moments later, Billy charges out of the office screaming. “You son of a bitch!” The exclamation followed by collective gasping from onlookers. 

Steve and Eddie stop walking, both of them turning to Billy even as the pitying look settles across Steve’s face.

“You can’t fire me!” Billy yells. “You don’t think I can see what you’re doing here? Setting me up so you can get rid of me and make yourself look like a hero to the board!” Billy points, “Because you are threatened by me!” 

Steve's face changes then - pity turning to amusement as he breaks out in a playful smile in answer to Billy continuing on his rant, “You are a monster.” 

“Billy, stop.” Steve says, that smile being redirected as he looks reassuringly to the other employees that have started to watch the commotion. Ever the picture of ease, even as Billy hurls insults at him.

Billy goes on. “Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves.” Billy moves closer. “You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’ll have on your deathbed?”

He’s near enough to them now that Eddie can see split flying, the assistant flinching as he snarls “Nothing and no one.” 

But while Eddie winces at his words, Steve just lets out a sympathetic noise, moving closer until the two men are toe to toe, his answering voice honey sweet. 

“Listen carefully, Billy. I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. No.” Billy glances around the office in arrogant disbelief, as if aid will be found there.

Steve continues. “I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office.” Billy’s eyes widen as Steve goes on. “And if you say another word, Eddie here is going to have you thrown out on your ass, okay?” 

Billy opens his mouth to object, but Steve continues, “Another word. Another word and you’re out of here with an armed escort. Eddie will film it with his camera phone, and put it online. Is that what you want?” 

Billy gives the two of them murderous glares, but he doesn’t say anything. 

“Didn’t think so.” When he’s satisfied, Steve finally turns his back on them, walking down the hall. 

Eddie is glued to him like his shadow as Steve instructs him flatly, “Have the interns take his desk and move it to my office.” 

“Will do.” Eddie replies. 

“Also, I need you around this weekend to help review his clients.” He adds, Eddie stumbling to a stop.

“This weekend?” He repeats in surprise.

“You have a problem with that?” Steve glares. 

Eddie stutters, “No. I - Just - it’s  my uncle’s 65th birthday so I was gonna go home and-'' Steve waves a hand dismissively, clearly having been rhetorical in his asking as he heads into his office, not even listening to what Eddie’s saying as he stutters through promising to cancel and be available to Steve. 

Then Eddie deflates.

He hasn’t made it home for a birthday since Wayne’s 60th - back before he started this godforsaken job. And now he has to tell him that he’ll be missing another.

He knows Wayne will understand. He always does. But it doesn’t change the fact that Eddie works for the devil. 

The old man tells him as much on a call around lunch, suggesting, as he always does, that he quit if it’s making him miserable.

Eddie launches into his usual defense, until he sees Steve approaching, and then he’s changing his tone, using his customer service voice dismissively - feigning aiding a client - before quickly getting off the call.

“That your family?” Steve asks bitterly. No misapprehension on his end. Not even for a moment.

Eddie puts the phone on the receiver. Doesn’t lie. “Yes.”

“They tell you to quit?” He presses.

“Every single day.” Eddie replies, and then without missing a beat, picks up the phone as it rings. “Mr. Harrington’s office.” He greets, eyes still on Steve. His loyal devotee.

A woman’s voice on the other end of the phone overshadows Steve’s gloom as she tells him. “Hello, this is the office of Mr. Holloway. He’d like to speak to Mr. Harrington in his office as soon as possible, please.” 

“Oh. Okay. All right.” The two hang up.

“Holloway wants to see you upstairs immediately.” He tells Steve.

Steve groans in reply, “Fine. Come and get me in ten minutes with an excuse. We’ve got a lot to do.” 

Steve repeats it as he walks away, like Eddie is an idiot, despite him not failing him once in years. “Ten minutes.” 

“Okay.” Eddie answers, trying not to look at Steve’s ass as he heads to the elevators. And failing spectacularly, as he always does.

While he’s gone, Eddie stares at the clock as it ticks to the next minute. After five, he heads upstairs. He whispers a quick hello to Nicole, Mr. Holloway’s secretary, before hesitating outside of the office to the company president, waiting to interrupt down to the minute. 

Once it has been ten minutes exactly, he knocks, the voices inside halting before Mr. Holloway, is yelling for him to come in.

He pokes his head inside, still holding the door open, only to find the both men in pause, Steve turning his head at him, as Mr. Holloway sees who it is, his expression mildly perturbed. 

“We’re in a meeting.” He says in a clipped tone, but Eddie is infinitely more afraid of displeasing Steve than someone who at least must have a shred of human understanding in him.

He musters his most charming smile, “Sorry to interrupt.” Rattling off his excuse, he notes how Steve’s whole body seems to unload some of its usual tension, his whole demeanor changing. 

Steve’s looking at him with relief, and Eddie is put off by it, by the way Steve catches his eye as he mouths “Come here,” when Eddie is done speaking, his head jerking forward for Eddie to come in. 

Eddie obeys immediately, coming over from where he was standing at the door, walking slowly to Steve’s side as he watches Tom watch the two of them. 

Steve turns back to Mr. Holloway, “Tom I understand… I understand the predicament that we are in.” 

“And—” Steve spares him another look. “And…there’s…well, I mean…There’s something that you should know.” Steve clears his throat, building to this information as he looks at Eddie.

Then Steve declares, “We’re getting married.” 

Eddie blinks at him. “Who’s getting married?” He whispers, his incredulous question said loud enough for only him to hear. Steve smiles at him, the dazzling version he reserves for clients. But not Eddie. Never Eddie. 

“You and I, sweetheart. We’re getting married.” He nearly whispers back. Like it wasn’t news to them both.

Steve nods as if he has further settled into this idea, looking back to their boss as he repeats. “We’re getting married. Eddie and I.” 

Then Steve gives him a familiar look - one that has always meant ‘Do this or I’ll fire you.’

Eddie suddenly finds that he can’t nod fast enough. “Yes! Yes!” 

He looks back at Mr. Holloway as well as he confirms, “We are getting married.” The words feel clunky in his mouth.

And maybe it’s a joke, a misunderstanding, a test of loyalty that surely he’s going to pass?

Only the company president hesitates at his confirmation, addressing Steve as he asks in slight amusement but wholehearted confusion. “Isn’t he… your secretary?” 

“Executive assistant.” Eddie butts in to clarify, like it makes any difference at all. 

Steve laughs heartily, going for the kill. “Well, it wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries. Would it, Tom?” 

Tom gives him a wry sort of ‘you-got-me-there’ smile when he mentions it - Steve bringing to recall a similar event transpiring with his (third?) wife.

“So, yeah…The truth is, you know, Eddie and I. We’re…we are uh, just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love, but we did. All those late nights at the office, the music…” Steve squeezes Eddie’s arm then and continues, “I tried to fight it, and well, you can’t fight a love like this.” 

Tom actually looks satisfied and Steve clears his throat. “So… Are we good - with this? Are you happy? Because we are happy.” Steve gestures to the two of them, “So happy.” 

Tom smiles, voice soft. “Steve. It’s terrific.” He raises his hand, displaying his own wedding ring. “Just make it legal. Mmm?” 

“Of course! We uh, we need to get ourselves to the immigration office, huh? Straighten this whole mess out.” Steve chuckles, bidding him goodbye before the two head back to their own floor, Eddie’s thoughts a whirlwind.

Eddie tries to follow Steve’s fast footsteps. They’re not even on their floor yet, and the news has already spread. 

Computers ding with notifications, sounding off behind them as they go, the entire office looking at the two of them, unable to hold their whispers until they pass. Patrick snickers at him, making lewd gestures as he passes, his shirt stained with coffee.

Eddie wordlessly follows Steve into his office, closing the door behind him, and watches as his boss exhales a sigh, sitting on his desk and looking at Eddie expectantly - like they were here for a planned meeting and not like he didn’t just announce their engagement.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Reminds himself of why he works here. With this sociopath. Then he tells said sociopath, “I don’t understand what’s happening.” 

“This is for you too.” Steve replies, as though it’s all so simple. 

“Do explain.” Eddie deadpans.

“I was going to be deported, and they were going to give Billy my job.” Steve says, like it makes all the senses in the world.

“So, naturally, I would have to marry you.” Eddie gapes, tone as sarcastic as possible.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Steve is being sarcastic now too, “Were you saving yourself for someone special?” 

Eddie is mildly offended at what Steve is implying. “I’d like to think so. Plus, you know, it’s illegal.” 

Steve chuckles, “They’re looking for terrorists, not for music producers.” 

“Steve.” Eddie grits out, hoping his voice is coming out firm. 

“Yes?” Steve answers nonchalantly, like they’re just having another conversation about his job performance. 

“I’m not going to marry you.” Eddie insists. 

“Sure you are.” Steve snaps back, “Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of touching people’s lives with your lyrical prowess are dead.” 

Eddie’s jaw actually drops. Steve bulldozes ahead and breaks it down for him. “Billy is going to fire you the second I’m gone. Guaranteed. Which leaves you unemployed and connectionless in the music industry, begging producers to listen to some no-name’s track. That means that all the time that we spent together - all the lattes, all the canceled dates, all the midnight Excedrin runs, were all for nothing, and you can kiss being any kind of a musician goodbye.”

He continues, as though all hope is not lost. “But don’t worry, after the required allotment of time, we’ll get a quickie divorce, and you’ll be done with me. But until then, like it or not, you are mine. Okay?” 

He’s his.

The phone rings from Eddie’s desk. Steve gestures pointedly out the door, “Phone’s ringing.” 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with himself other than exit the office and pick it up.

“Good morning, Mr. Harrington’s office.” He says robotically.

Series Masterlist

Next Part: Part 2

[desertwritings]

A BREAK FROM STUDYING

A Jimmy Mcgill/Saul Goodman x Cis Female reader Y/N fanfic? 

TBH this is my first time posting my work on Tumblr so I’m still figuring out the formatting. This story is smut based... like heavily smutty and gross so you have been warned. If you like it enough for me to make it a series let me know!

NOW TAKING REQUESTS!

CONTAINS: age gap, daddy k!nk, cream pie, mild squirting, public(ish) sex. 

CONTEXT: You have been working with Jimmy in the mail room for years now and have always had a puppy love schoolgirl sort of crush on him since you first met, but always thought it wasn’t reciprocated. Now, one night, he shows just how badly he’s wanted you this whole time while you try to study for the bar exam. 

I only had another week left until the bar exam and I spent most of my time either working in the mailroom of HHM or studying in doc review. Howard had been supportive enough, allowing me extra time to focus on my studies, all while also paying for my school costs — even if it was just through the local community college. Go Suncats! Honestly, this had been the most support I had ever received. Maybe if I grew up having more support, I would be going to Harvard instead. 

“Heya y/n.” I heard the familiar raspy and pitchy tone of Jimmy as he leaned in the doorway of doc review, where I hunched over a textbook, an empty coffee cup, and a tear-stained notebook. 

“It’s like — almost midnight. What are you still doing here?” I asked, not taking my eyes off my pen and paper. 

I heard his footsteps get closer and the chair beside me pull out and creek as he sat beside me. “I have my reasons.” He answers in a half-assed manner. 

I turned to face him, the dim lamp highlighting his playful smile and I felt my core grow weak and mushy for him. 

The first time I had met Jimmy Mcgill I was working in the mail room, trying to get a job as an assistant or a paralegal for one of the partners. Freshly twenty-three with a bright and optimistic view of the world — full of drive and childish ambition. I was so focused on work and starting classes that I hadn’t taken any time to unwind — let alone care about boys or dating or anything like that. But the first time I met the mysterious brother to Chuck Mcgill, I’ll admit it was like I became a sappy, sick puppy dog. Sure, he was older — a little bit of a loser. But I was weak for the funny pathetic underdogs. Not to mention he was flirty and funny and fed into my childish delusions of how I could “fix him.” I flirted back, wore short skirts, wore the hoop earrings he complimented once, and wore my hair loose and fun. I tried. But for some reason, it never went past harmless office flirtation. I assumed maybe it was the age difference. Maybe he was uncomfortable with being with someone as young as me. Maybe he was just trying to do the right thing but not giving in to temptation with me. 

Now I was almost twenty-seven, and though the schoolgirl crush had dulled a little, there were times when I would catch myself looking at him like he could move heaven and earth. Like in this moment as he sat next to me in the dimly lit document room. So I cleared my throat and turned back to the papers in front of me. 

“Admit you just missed me.” I teased as the smallest of smiles tugged on the corners of my lips. 

“Objection. That’s hearsay.” He teased back, leaning closer as he slid my favorite energy drink across the table with a single finger — the condensation leaving a small streak of liquid on the wood top. “Some of us went out for drinks, and I noticed you weren’t there. Ernesto said you were here studying.” 

“Yeah, yeah he came and asked if I wanted to go but —” I shrugged, motioned to all the school work displayed in front of me. 

“You work too hard. You should take a break and come back out with us.” 

He carefully takes the pen from my fingers, puts the cap back on and sets it aside. It was a subtle and simple thing he did but I felt my skin grow warm. 

“I wish I could, but — I just have a lot to study still, and the exam is —”

“ — a week away.” He interrupts me. “Which means you have time to take one tiny break out of your evening to have a little fun and destress.” 

“I don’t know, Jimmy.”

“Oh, come on, y/n. It’ll be good for you!” He inches so close I can almost taste his cologne and the head and shoulders 2-in1 shampoo. “Come on — for me?”

And with that, I knew. I knew he knew that I had a stupid schoolgirl crush on him and he was using it against me, and fuck — it was working. I tried to fight a smile, shaking my head as my cheeks flushed pink. 

“Fine — whatever,” I said, slamming my book shut. “but only because you seem so desperate.”

He stands up with the dumbest grin. “See? That’s my girl.” 

I stand up, fixing my skirt that had ridden up, my thigh exposed past my thigh-highs, maybe even a bit of my black panties. I wasn’t thinking much of it until I caught a glimpse of Jimmy eyeing me like a lion eyeing a gazelle. It was unexpected, unfamiliar. He had looked at me before in a more appreciative way. This time it seemed more lustful, more desperate even, and it caused my chest and legs to grow hot. I could feel wetness going in between my legs, and for a moment, I got embarrassed.

“I just, uh — I just have to put this stuff in my car, and then we can —” As I was talking, he moved closer, not helping my flustered state. I stopped in my tracks, looking up at him.

I was about to say something. I was about to walk past him and run out of the room but his hands slid around my waist and I nearly forgot how to breathe. His bottom lip was pressed by his teeth, his brows furrowing in what looked like deep thought. Though it wouldn’t take a genius to know what he was thinking about. 

“Jimmy —” I said, his name barely above a whisper. 

“Look — am I totally crazy for thinking that you — that you want me?”   He asked, head tilting just slightly as his eyes didn’t leave my own.    “If I’m making shit up in my head tell me now and I’ll walk away and we’ll pretend this never happened. But if I’m right —”

I was so thrown off guard. This whole time I thought he didn’t want me. This whole time I thought I was too young for him or that maybe I wasn’t his type. But here we stood with his grip around my waist firm and hungry and waiting for direction. 

“I —”   I looked down and saw the bulge in his pants. He wanted me so bad in this moment he couldn’t even hide it. Without much thought, I got on my toes and pulled his neck down into my kiss. He let out a pleasantly surprised whimper, his grip moving down lower to cup my ass as he pulled me into his bulge. I could feel it stabbing me and twitching. I let out a soft and involuntary moan. 

“I wanna feel how wet you are.” He groaned into my ear, sliding his right hand under my skirt and rubbing his fingers on the outside of my soaked panties. He smiled, placing a rather fervent kiss on my neck and biting my skin gently. “Fuck — you’re so wet. You’re dripping.”

“Mhmm — you make me that way.” I practically moaned the words as he moved my panties off to the side and slid one of his fingers inside me, the wet sounds loud and affirming just how badly my body wanted him. 

“Come here.” He pulled his finger out of me, making me whine in protest as his hands wrapped around my waist to hoist me on the edge of the table. 

At this point, I was panting, aching, my pussy pulsing for him to touch me. He shoved his index and middle fingers in his mouth and lubricated them with his own spit before shoving them into my soaking pussy without so much as a warning. I gasped, smiling, laying back on the table as he positioned my legs over his shoulders. 

At first, he started off with a gentle, slow rhythm. In and out. With every push of his fingers, I could feel him pressing against my walls, making my back arch. “Faster.” I pleaded. And with that he was picking up the pace, ramming his fingers into me with force and speed. I couldn’t even handle it, my legs tried to shut as I began to feel overstimulated, but he pried them open and continued to finger-fuck me while I wiggled and writhed on the table beneath him. 

I let out a loud moan that was followed by his hand cupping around my mouth to stifle my pathetic little noises. I had forgotten where we were and that anyone could just walk in and see us this way. 

“You like that? Do my fingers feel good?” He was getting off on making me feel good, it was easy to tell. He was boosting his ego by making himself feel good by making me cum all over his fingers. 

“Mhhhmm” I mumbled under his hand as my eyes opened and looked up at him.

“God — you’re so beautiful.” He said, staring down at me. “Be a good girl and don’t get us in trouble, okay?” He laughed a breathless laugh as he lifted his hand from my mouth. “You’re getting wetter.” He said with a pleased smirk. 

“I’m so close, Jimmy, please —” and with my pitiful begging, he finger-fucked me harder, this time with three fingers while his other hand played with my clit. “I — I’ll make a mess.” I confessed, more like a warning. 

“Good.” He said, not slowing his pace or showing me mercy as my body tensed and my back arched.

“Fuck — fuck I’m coming —”  I squealed, wiggling around as I started to squirt just a little in between every push of his fingers — my wetness drenched his entire hand and forearm. He just kept going, too, making me moan and writhe around, all pathetic and out of control of my own body. It felt good, though, to not be in control for once. My mind wasn’t thinking about the bar exam, bills, or moving up in HHM. Truth be told, it was just thinking about Jimmy and the way he was making me feel. 

“Ah fuck — you’re so sexy.” He said, taking his drenched hand and slowly pulling it away from me, pressing it to his mouth and licking the tips of his fingers. “I knew you’d taste so good.” I grinned a little, out of breath and panting on the table. 

My eyes wandered to his disheveled hair and his cocky smile, then to his soaked hand that reached into his pants and pulled his erect cock out. He didn’t even need to hold it, it just stood there on its own — ready. 

I slowly sat up on my elbows, practically drooling over his cock, which was bigger than I had imagined. “I want you to fuck me with that.” I confessed, looking back up at his glazed-over eyes. 

He didn’t even say anything. He just grabbed me by the waist like he did before and flipped me over on the table with my ass and pussy exposed. I stuck my ass out just a little more, begging for his cock. But before he stuck it in me he kissed me down from the back of neck, down my spine, and then left a little bit on my ass cheek. Then without much warning he was shoving his hard cock into my still-soaking wet pussy. I gasped and groaned, tilting my head back at the feeling. 

“Ah — fuck.” he nearly whimpered, already breathing heavily as he started off with a slow and steady pace. He leaned over me and pressed his lips to the top back of my head while he said, “I want you to call me daddy.”  

I let out a soft whimper in understanding. “Please fuck me harder, daddy.” 

“Good girl,” he said, fucking me harder and shoving his cock deep into me, ramming into my walls and making me whimper with every thrust. His left hand came up to the back of my head and tangled in my hair as his right hand gripped my waist firm in place as he continued to fuck me.  

“Just like that, daddy, don’t stop.” I moaned, banging my hands on the table with nothing to hold onto. 

He gripped my hair harder, lifting my head up as he thrust into me even more fervently — nothing but the sound of our whimpers and moans and skin slapping together. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long.” He moaned, reaching his hand from my waist to my clit and rubbing it to the rhythm of his thrusting. It only made me moan and shake more. 

“I want you to cum inside me, daddy.” I confess, biting my lower lip. 

“Yeah? You want daddies cum to fill you up?”

“Please daddy — please cum for me.” I begged, barely able to get the words out. 

He picked up the pace to a new speed I didn't even know anyone was capable of reaching, moaning and groaning and sweating all over my bare ass until he made a pathetic whimper sound then the next thing I knew he was emptying his load into my raw pussy — filling me up with his warmth and sliding his cock almost out of me but not quite. I could feel his cock twitching as he continued to empty himself inside me. The feeling of his cum made me even more hot and flushed.

“Holy shit.” he huffed, slowly removing his now flaccid cock from me. I turned over my shoulder to look at him looking at my cum-filled pussy with an arrogant smirk across his face. He was fucking proud of himself. 

I was about to ask for a taste of his cum before we heard footsteps near the mail room. We frantically got ourselves dressed and I rushed to fix the desk and open my book back to make it look like I was still studying. Jimmy fell hard into his seat, hair all sweaty and slightly curled as he zipped up his pants. 

Two cleaning ladies came in with their cleaning cart, staring at us with confusion. “Hola, ladies.” Jimmy said, with a simple wave of his hand. “You can, uh, skip this room tonight.” 

They looked at each other, nodded, then walked out.

Jimmy turned to me with an amused expression, eyes moving down to the now cum-soaked chair I was sitting in and laughed a little. “Guess we should have let them clean.”

[satorusgirltonight]

"𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚎𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝" 

"𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖊𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖔 𝕴 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚❓" 

Modern Vampire (kinda stalkerish???) ! Choso x F! Reader 

tw// stalkerish tendencies, choking, mentions of blood, implied kidnapping? 

I didn't proofread this- reblogs and notes appreciated

You lived in a small townhouse, next to a pair of brothers who were quite friendly, but the eldest brother was.. 𝕢𝕦𝕚𝕖𝕥, to say the least. He never really spoke to you,  he just waved or stared into your soul. Yuji itadori, the younger brother was always super kind to you, whenever you would see him in the mailroom, or just around, he would come up to you and ask you things;

"𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶?"

Or sometimes, it was 

"𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘴?"

Yuji Itadori was far too young for you if he was trying to flirt with you, and he wasn't your type. You always answered his questions respectfully, but sometimes you were short with him, as to try and deter his weird questions. 

His brother, Choso Kamo, was quiet.. Interesting.. To say the least.. 

You would see him and try to say hi, but he’d never say hi back. It was weird, and eventually, you just stopped taking it personally. But then again, he was always 

Around. 

One morning in the sweet spring of April, you got home from your long day of classes, only to find a lovely bouquet of flowers, your favorite, on the doorstep of your townhouse. You picked them up, looking for some sort of note or tag that said who they were from. Nothing rang a bell, and you put them in a nice vase on the kitchen counter. 

Choso Kamo watched from a bush. The bush was quite uncomfortable and it wasn't a very fun place to watch you from, but what other option did he have? This was his first ‘advance’ he could say, trying to show his desires for you through anonymity. 

He always admired you. The day you moved in, Yuji had made banana bread and asked him to deliver it to you. 

That was the only time he has really ever spoken to you, and probably ever will.  Until he saw you in the mailroom. He could hear your pulse, and the vibrations your natural pheromones gave off to him were insatiable. 

The sun caught your face so well that day, and he accidentally made direct eye contact with you. Something he would not get over, as he had your attention for that split second. 

You had tried to talk to him that day but he left before you could say something. 

Then it happened at the convenience store down the street. 

Then it happened as you were both arriving home at the same time

Then it happened when you met up with your friend at the local park. 

Then he followed you to school. 

Then he followed you whenever you left the townhouse.

Yuji itadori soon realized he had some sort of crush on you, or at least a desire to know you, so he confronted his brother about it. 

Choso blew it off, and told Yuji to not give it any thought. 

Until Choso realized that you TALKED to Yuji. So Choso decided to bribe his brother with some money for video games, and had him ask you questions about yourself, your favorite things, and hopefully would invite you over. 

He just hoped you would never find his stash. 

No, not of cash, of blood, rather pigs blood, not human. 

But he so desperately craved it. YOUR blood. Just yours, and only yours. His mind was on it constantly, whenever he saw you, he could practically already taste it. 

But he never wanted to hurt you. As if he bit you, it would hurt, badly. 

Human bites are also binding. That’s what's killing Choso Kamo. 

When and if he ever did bite you, your soul would be bound to his, forever. You’d also stop aging, but you’d remain human, unless you decided you wanted to turn. 

It was a gamble he had to be willing to take at some point.. He knew it was you that it had to be, after 155 years of looking for someone that might actually interest him. 

You were sweet, almost too sweet. You left a sugary taste in his mouth, which always burned in his body for hours after. 

Then Yuji invited you over. 

He usually just sat on his phone while watching you and his brother play just dance, or some other video game. Eventually, Choso wanted to play. 

He couldn't get enough of you. It was a disaster at this point.

You found yourself getting closer and closer to Choso Kamo as the months went by, and by the end of the summer, you had his number. 

He was surprised when you sent the first messages. 

He was elated when you brought up the twice a week gifts at your doorstep, too. 

He found some sort of comedic relief when you brought it up to him while he was over at your place for the first time, without his brother in attendance. He took it all in, learning every inch of your space. 

"I just don't know who’s doing it, I would get a doorbell camera but I dont have the money for it” you said to him, sitting next to him on your couch, loading up the video game you wanted to play. 

“I wouldn't worry about it, the gifts are harmless right?” Choso said back to you, holding back his smile. 

“Yeah they are, but it’s just a bit off putting, I don't know anyone who would do it.” you said, grabbing him a controller. 

your voice was sweet, and your pulse was LOUD in his ears. 

He was at the point now where you considered him a best friend. He hated that. He wished you saw him as more. Although he couldn't read your mind, he almost wished he could, so he’d know how you truly felt. He knew you felt the same. You had to! There was no way you didn't, with the way you looked at him, accepted his gifts and texted him 24/7 with all your issues, hopes, and dreams. 

You often invited him over late at night, if you couldn't sleep, but recently he hasn't needed an invitation. He had stolen your spare key a while back, and when he saw you weren't sending him tik toks, he knew you had fallen asleep. 

Until he got caught. 

….

It was late and you had put your phone down after your long day, you were drained but you were still up due to the amount of caffeine you had. It was quiet, peaceful and serene, you almost fell asleep until you heard your front door open. 

Your heart froze in fear. You didn't want to move but you did anyway, grabbing a pocket knife you had in your bedside table and calling out. 

“Who’s there?”

Well getting caught was not on Choso Kamo’s bingo card. 

He froze almost as much as you did. There wasn't any turning back now, he was halfway into your living room space. 

 “𝓘𝓽𝓼 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓶𝓮” 

You recognized Choso’s voice immediately and relaxed. 

“Choso?” you called out to him, coming out of your room. You were wearing his sweatpants that he let you borrow, and a tank top. 

He was over the moon to see that.

“Yeah, hey” he said a bit awkwardly

“What are you doing here..? It's three in the morning” you said, seeing him in your living room. 

He could lie, but he didn't want to. 

He started inching closer to you. 

“You know that spare key you lost?” he said, all sense of sanity started to leave his mind. 

“Yeah, a few months ago” you said, in the darkness. 

“𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓲𝓽.” 

“Oh, uhm.. Why?” you said, starting to question everything you knew about your best friend. You let out an awkward laugh, now getting nervous as he backed you to a wall. 

“To be closer to you.” he said, bluntly, grabbing your hand, stealing the pocket knife from your hand. 

“You could've texted” you said, trying to piece the puzzle together.

Has he always been.. Like this? 

“Where’s the fun in that, when you look so pretty just existing.”

You were silent, not knowing what to say. He grabbed a piece of your hair that was in front of your face, and pushed it behind your ear. He could hear your pulse, and it was tempting for him to bite but he refrained. 

“I sent you those little gifts, I hope you liked them.” he said, his eyes not leaving yours. 

You did like them, and you would've liked them more if he gave them to you without love letters and anonymity. 

“Why are you doing this, I trusted you.” you said, angrily, confused in the three in the morning haze, being pinned to a wall. 

“When I saw you, in that mailroom for the first time, I knew you were born to be mine, and mine alone”

“That isn't love Choso!” you exclaimed, knowing he wouldn't like that answer. 

He pinned your body to his, fully. 

“I’ve done everything in my life to keep you with me, I KNOW I love you, and you need to be with me. It was love at first sight”

This was NOT the Choso you knew. 

“Love at first sight doesn't exist, Choso” you said, pleading, feeling his hand rise to your neck, lightly choking it, now feeling the main pulse on the side of your neck. 

It was heaven. He had you in his grasp, finally. 

"𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖔𝖜 𝖊𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖉𝖔 𝕴 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖈𝖗𝖎𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖆𝖞 𝕴 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚" 

He tightened his grip around your neck, and around the pressure points in your neck. You tried to struggle, but it was pointless.

“Let it happen, i’ll take such good care of you i promise.” he said, sadistically watching. 

Is all you heard as you felt lightheaded, and eventually, passed out. 

“This is the start of our perfect life together.” 

do y'all want a part two

PART TWO WOOOOOOOOO!!!!

part two  

[littlemisspascal]

Mailroom Crush hit 200 kudos on AO3 today and I’m just 😱😭🥰 Thank you x a thousand to everyone for all the sweet support of a fic I initially thought was gonna be a total failure 💜💜💜 

[emitheduck]

The Copier Room (Jason Todd x Reader)*

Jason and Reader have some fun in the copier room of Wayne Enterprises Warnings: SMUT!! UNDER18, GET OUT OF HERE / PnV, AFAB MASTERLIST

“Bruce, I’ve got the files you left at the house that you wanted me to drop off.” Jason told the other man as he walked into the office, tossing the folder down onto the large desk, not really caring if the papers inside spilled out. If he wanted them all neat and tidy, he shouldn’t have forgotten them at the house. “Thank you. That’s all I needed.” Bruce said, never looking up from whatever paperwork he was currently invested in. “I think (Y/n) has some files that need to go home if you want to stop and pick them up?”

Jason froze, shaking his head. “No can do. The last time I talked to her, I completely blew it and I don’t think I can mess up again.”

Bruce chuckled. “It’s cute that you have a crush on her, but she probably didn’t even notice.”

“I don’t have a crush on her! Well, ugh I probably do..” Jason groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Talking to her just makes me feel like I’m going to puke, I get so nervous.” 

Bruce dropped his pen down onto the desk, leaning back in his chair while he looked over at Jason who was playing with some paper clips. “Is the Jason Todd afraid of talking to my assistant?”

Jason tossed the paperclips into the trash. He had bent them beyond repair, and there was no use saving them now. “Listen old man, I’m not like you. I don’t usually have girls falling at my feet.”

There was a soft knock at the door, Bruce of course saying that the person could come in. In walked (Y/n), a folder in hand. “Sorry to bother you Mr.Wayne, I was just looking to get your signature on these.”

“It’s okay (Y/n), you weren’t interrupting.” Bruce smiled as she walked over to hand him the papers. “Have you met Jason? He’s been working part time in the mailroom.” That wasn’t a complete lie. Bruce has told Jason, if he wanted to continue to live at the manor, he would have to start working. So as of now, he was the personal errand boy and would bring paperwork home once every week. 

(Y/n) leaned slightly against the edge of Bruce’s desk while she looked over at the other man. She was eyeing him up and down and Jason could feel sweat start to form on the back of his neck. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. Normally every time I say hi, he runs right by.”

Bruce chuckled as the other man was trying to hide his face in the collar of his leather jacket. “(Y/n), if you get the chance could you give Jason the files I set aside for him to bring home? And could you be so kind as to show him where the photocopier is so he could make some copies?”

She nodded, grabbing the folder from his now outstretched hand. “Of course. Is there anything else that you need?” She asked him while she looked over at Jason who instantly looked away from her. 

“That should be good. I’ll let you know if I think of anything else.” Bruce told her as she nodded, leaving the office. He then turned to Jason. “I wouldn’t keep her waiting if I were you.”

“I’m going to kill you one day.” Jason hissed at the other man while he went to follow the woman, practically slamming the office door behind him. 

(Y/n) was standing outside the office door with a manilla folder in her hand, shoving it into Jason’s hands. “Here are the files he wanted to give you, now let’s go to that copier.” She told him, already starting to walk down the hallway. 

It was something about women in an office that kind of scared Jason. He swore, women in high heels walking on polished hardwood could go faster than him on a good day. Then again, he didn’t mind that she was in front of him; he had an amazing view of her ass in a pencil skirt. 

“This is the copier. We might have all the money we can dream of, but this thing is kind of a piece of shit.” (Y/n) told him with a smirk as she kicked the bottom of the machine. “You can’t repeat that.”

“My lips are sealed.” Jason chuckled as he got to work to make copies of the files. “How long have you worked here?” He asked her, eyes still focused on the buttons of the machine.

(Y/n) hopped up on the counter, crossing her legs at the ankles while she watched him. “A few years. I beat out a lot of other women for this job. But I think the fact that I don’t give him heart eyes every time I see him helps.”

“Normally at a lot of jobs, sleeping with the boss can only get you so far.” Jason mumbled. “How the hell do you work this thing?”

She rolled her eyes. “You put the paper in, and just hit the copy button. It’s not rocket science.” 

Jason did as he was told, of course it worked almost instantly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to having to do actual office work. That’s why they just send me on errands.” He told her, feeling his cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment.

“I’ll walk you out.” She smiled, hopping off the counter with a soft click of her heels as she went to open the door. The handle moved, but the second she tried to open the door, it didn’t budge. “That’s weird.” She said under her breath as she tried the badge that was attached to her shirt, swiping it on the key-card access. Still nothing. “Door won’t open.” 

“I’ll call Bruce.” Jason told her, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It rang twice before Bruce answered. “Hey, we’re locked in the copier room.”

“Oh yeah. We had to reboot the security. Shouldn’t be longer than 15 minutes.” The other man told him. “I would come let you out, but it seems I can’t leave my office either.” 

Jason held his tongue, wanting to rip the other man a new one, but decided his best option was to shut his mouth. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” He said through grit teeth as he hung up and turned to look at the woman who was back sitting on the counter. “Seems they had to reset the security, and we’re stuck in here for 15 minutes.”

(Y/n) shrugged. “That’s okay. I’m sure we can think of something to do for 15 minutes.”

“Can I tell you something?” He asked, tossing the papers on top of the machine before he hopped up on the counter to sit next to her.

“Of course you can.” She told him, slightly moving closer to him so her shoulder was brushing up against his arm. 

The slight touch didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I was going to tell you, that I’m sorry I’ve never stopped to say hi.”

She laughed, a hand over her mouth to try and suppress her laughter. “I shouldn’t be laughing. I just think it’s sweet that you said sorry.”

“What’s wrong with saying sorry? I would have thought you liked an apology.” Jason faked hurt, a hand over his heart as he turned to face her. 

“There’s nothing wrong with apologizing, but I just never thought you did anything wrong.” (Y/n) told him, sighing. “You know, you’re nothing like your brother.”

Jason blinked. She must have meant Dick, as Tim and Damian practically never came into the office. “You mean Dick?”

She nodded. “He really lives up to his name. No matter what I would do or say, I could never shake his attention. He would always hit on me, and while I was flattered, I just wasn’t interested and he didn’t seem to understand that.” 

“Yeah, he’s dumb as a brick.” He sighed with a chuckle. “If he really was persistent, it must have meant he liked you because he’ll follow anything with a pulse--no offense to you at all but he is just the biggest ass who has ever walked the planet.” 

“No feelings hurt here. Just sucked that I got all his attention, and none from the guy I really wanted it from.” She told him, glancing over at him and practically seeing the gears turning in his mind to understand what she was saying.

His mouth opened and closed, almost like a fish as he looked at her with confusion written all on his face. “Are you saying that you like me?”

(Y/n) smiled, her cheeks dusted a soft pink. “I would have enjoyed telling you months ago if you didn’t race out of here at the drop of a hat every time I tried to say good morning to you.” 

Jason groaned, his head falling into his hands. “I must look so stupid right now. There I was, too nervous to say shit to you because I thought you were beautiful and out of my league, and now you’re telling me you liked me all along?”

“Did you just call me beautiful?” She asked, nudging his leg slightly with her heel. 

“I must be dreaming right now. There is no damn way that this is real life right now.” He laughed, looking at her. “But yes, you are so beautiful. I’m never one to stumble over words, or get nervous around anyone, but you make me so nervous.”

(Y/n) giggled, gently grabbing his hand. “I think it’s cute.”

“Okay now I’m starting to think that I’m going crazy.” He smiled as he leaned forward, gently resting a hand on her cheek. “I’m going to kiss you now, is that okay?”

She didn’t answer, but leaned in and softly kissed him. Her hands were resting on his chest while his were on either side of her face while they deepened the kiss. She slowly leaned forward and crawled onto his lap to straddle him on the counter, causing Jason to pull away from the kiss.

“Are we going to…” His question trailed away as he raised a brow. “I’m game if you are, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Do I really make you this soft?” She asked while he started to shrug off his leather jacket. “I thought you were a bad boy? What happened to that?”

Jason smirked. “You want me to be a bad boy? Be careful or you might get yourself interested in something you can’t handle.”

“You can do whatever you want to me. Just make sure that I can make it back to work when we’re done.” She told him, her lips softly nipping at his ear.

“Pretty sure I can do that.” He chucked, his hand gently reaching down to start to unbutton her blouse. “Normally, I would just rip right through these tiny buttons, but I think if I did that you would never want to fuck me.” He mumbled as he gently took her shirt off, mouth going dry at the sight of the lacy black bra that was underneath. 

“Never seen a bra before?” She teased as she climbed off his lap, shimmying her skirt off; now standing in front of him in only her matching underwear.

Jason shook his head with a dry chuckle as he quickly took his shirt off. “I’ve seen a bra, but it’s not about the clothes. It’s about the amazing boobs that I know are under there.” 

(Y/n) rolled her eyes as she bent down to pick up her skirt off the ground, causing him to wince. “Something wrong?”

“I hate to admit it, but you haven’t even touched me yet and I’m already hard.” He sighed, biting his lip while she reached forward to undo his belt.

His belt fell to the floor with a soft thud while she went to undo the button of his jeans. Sliding them down just enough to see where his dick was painfully pressed against his underwear. “Need me to take care of that for you?” 

“Yes please.” He said breathlessly as she lowered his waistband; his dick springing free and slapping his stomach.

“Holy shit.” She gasped. “You’re huge.” 

Jason turned red, not having the confidence to look her in the eyes. “I try not to brag.” 

(Y/n) leaned down, one hand reaching forward to gently start to stroke his shaft; causing him to instantly throw his head back at the touch. “You should. It’s impressive.” She shot him a wink before she dipped her head down. Her tongue swiped over the tip once before she took all of him in her mouth. 

“Oh my fucking god.” Jason groaned, one of his hands moving to her head as she started to bob her head back and forth. “You’re taking me so well. So good baby.” He could feel that he was getting closer; having not been touched like this in so long, he knew he wouldn’t be able to last if she continued to suck him off. 

She could feel him twitch in her mouth, causing her to pull off of him with an audible pop. “Close are we?”

He chuckled with a nod. “Yeah. Would rather cum in your pussy if I’m honest.” He was grinning like a fool as he got up off the counter, picking her up with ease. “I’m going to fuck you on top of this piece of shit until it breaks.” He told her as he bent her over, tits pressed against the glass of the copier. 

“I would love to see you try.” (Y/n) retorted as he slowly slipped her panties down. She was damp and sure of it, watching the piece of black fabric get tossed to the side. 

“Oh baby, if you keep teasing me it’s not going to end well for you.” Jason smirked as he reached one hand up to cup her breast, hand sliding under the bra with ease. “I have a condom or are you on the pill?”

“I’m on the pill.” She breathed out, arching her back towards him. 

Jason gently rolled her nipple with one hand while the other guided himself at her entrance. He slowly moved his hips forward with a sharp intake of his breath as he slid into her. “I’ll start off slow. I want to remember this moment.” He told her, moaning as she started to slide back onto him. “I never said you had to go slow.” (Y/n) gasped as he started furiously thrusting into her. Of course, still bent over the copier, pressing buttons with her hands randomly as he was thrusting. Loud beeping and papers flying out of one end all part of the fun as her body rocked against the machine. “Faster!” She breathed out, as Jason managed to up his speed, drilling into her. 

“I’m not going to fuckin be able to survive if we keep going this fast.” He warned between breaths. Thank god this door was locked and didn’t have a window. “You okay if I cum inside? Otherwise it’s gonna be on your back.” 

“Inside!” She had no problem moaning out as he gave a few final thrusts before coming to his release, burying his cock deep within her. (Y/n) was quick to follow, letting out one final moan as she came around him. 

Jason, slightly gasping for air, leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to her shoulder as he softened inside her, finally pulling out once he felt like he could see straight. “Holy fuck, that was amazing.”

(Y/n) pulled herself off the copier, noticing a slight residue of sweat from her breasts on the glass, and wiping it off quickly with her hand. “Now that we did that, you’re going to have to take me out on a proper date.” She smiled, pulling up her panties and putting them back on.

“I’ll take you anywhere you want. Whatever you want–Hell I’d do anything.” He told her while he started to hand her other clothing items; knowing it was more important for her to look professional rather than him.

“I just might have to take you up on that.” She told him with one quick kiss on the cheek while she slipped on her high heels. “Come find me at my desk when you’re dressed.” She told him, going to the door and being able to open it no problem, slipping out and leaving him in the room.

Jason wasted no time getting himself dressed; looking over at the copier and smirking. There on the paper tray was the photocopy of (Y/n)’s boobs, perfectly pressed to the glass. Yeah, he was 100% keeping that forever. He thought while he folded it up neatly and stashed it away in his pocket. Sending one quick text to Bruce before he left:

‘Hey, copier is broken, you should really get a new one’

MASTERLIST

[gabessquishytum]

Hob has a huge crush on his neighbor Dream in the apartment next to him, and recently has been trying to work up the courage to ask him out. Ever since he finally decided to do so, however, there’s been a problem: lately it seems like every time they bump into each other, Hob is somehow always looking like a hot mess, and it severely undermines his confidence.

They’ll have gotten into the elevator together after Hob is coming back from a workout, sweaty and gross and in desperate need of a shower, or coming in from the rain having forgotten an umbrella and doing a fantastic imitation of a wet dog. Or they’ll both happen to be making a stop in the mailroom while Hob is in ratty oversized sweats that he’s stretched out such that they hang from his hips, or in a crop top that says “Baby Slut” his friend Jo gifted him as a joke that he only wears on laundry days.

If this keeps up Hob is going to have to crawl into a hole and die from embarrassment. How is he supposed to convince the gorgeous and forever-put-together Dream to date him if he keeps looking like garbage??

—

Dream has a huge crush on his neighbor Hob in the apartment next to him, and feels like he’s gotten pretty good at hiding it. However, lately it feels like the universe is testing him, as every time they bump into each other Hob is somehow always looking like he just stepped out of some porno. He’d almost suspect Hob of teasing him deliberately, except he always looks so adorably flustered and shy every time (which also does not help Dream’s predicament). If this keeps up Dream might actually snap and pounce.

-🪽anon

This is so cuuuuute AND hot i love it. More hot mess Hob pls <333

It all comes to a head when their building's fire alarm goes off, and the occupants all have to troop outside. Naturally Hob was in the shower when the alarm started, and he's managed to make it out wearing... a towel. That's it. He's also absolutely soaked and he's quite convinced that he's going to have to move to a different apartment, because of course his hot neighbour is standing right next to him. Hob’s face is bright red but hey, at least he's not cold! The embarrassment is keeping him thoroughly warm.

Poor Dream has reached breaking point as he gazes at his beautiful neighbour, who is attempting to preserve his modesty with only a rather threadbare towel wrapped around his waist. For some reason the guy keeps putting his hands over his pecs, presumably to stop his nipples from hardening in the fresh air. Dream just can't cope with him any more.

The apartment manager finally gives the all clear to go inside, and Hob kind of skulks around, letting everyone else go ahead so no one can watch him going up the stairs. Of course Dream hangs about too, and soon they're the only ones left. And Hob is just about to straight up beg his hot neighbour not to make fun of him, any other time would be fine but please not tonight but Dream?? Interrupts by offering his jacket to Hob??? (Which he probably should have done earlier but sue him, he was busy being lovestruck).

So of course Hob does the sensible thing, and kisses him - dropping the towel entirely in process and leaving himself finally buck-ass naked in front of his hot neighbour.

Which Dream appreciates, of course. But he thinks that Hob would be a lot more comfortable naked inside his apartment? He sure would like to find out. And Hob has truly run out of fucks to give, so what can he say but "yes"?

[alluralater]

got a notif saying my package was here for my games & my microphone stand and i was so surprised cause i thought it wasn’t coming until tomorrow. i get downstairs and open the locker in the mailroom to see a destroyed box like half open but i can’t tell what’s inside?? so i try to pick it up and it weighs like (i thought with the stand it was like 30lbs max and i just being a baby but its actually a 60lb box with no structure bc its fuckin ruined) AND IT’S FULL OF DUNGEON STUFF??? like bro why is this box filled with metal shackle pieces and equipment. the pieces are literally labeled ‘drop forged shackles galvanized metal’ ???? my games inside are completely fucking ruined. like just absolutely crushed and scratched up/broken so boo :( any werewolves missing their shackles??

[juletheghoul]

a/n: I started writing fanfic when I was in my teens, typing away into the night as a way to feel connected to my faves. Eventually I stopped, maybe convinced myself that I'd grown out of it, but that definitely wasn't the case. Truth is the stories have always been there, and I've always wanted to tell them. I'm happy to have found my way back to fanfic, back to the sense of community and all those other amazing fucking stories that I've read here. I've been lucky enough to have my things put on rec lists and now I want to make one of my own. I've been compiling a list of submissions, along with some of my faves and I offer them up to you, humbly. This list in no way encompasses all of the masterpieces I've read, just doing my best with the shitshow that is my memory lol. I am beyond lucky to have reached such a wild milestone, thanks for following along-please enjoy and show these creators some love!

Story recs;

Each story will have it's own warnings**

Jack Whiskey Daniels;

Under Marula Trees (Jack x F!Reader) by @deadhumourist

Cognitive Dissonance (Jack x F!reader) by @prolix-yuy

The Cowboy Next Door (Jack x virgin!freader) by @ikissdin

Javier Peña;

Learning to Live (Javier Peña/f!reader) by @wheresarizona

Fear and Loathing (Javier Peña x F!Reader) by @joels6strings

Lie to Me (Javier Peña x DEA Agent fem reader) by @iamskyereads

Mailroom Crush (Javier Peña x f!reader) by @littlemisspascal

Girl Next Door (Javier Peña x f!reader) by @babybugwrites

Teach Me Tonight (Javier Peña x F!DEA!Reader) by @storiesofthefandomlovers 

Dieter Bravo;

Funny Girl (Dieter x F!Reader) by @radiowallet

Stay on the Screenplay (Dieter x F!Reader) by @jazzelsaur

Love Triangles (Dieter Bravo x Female Reader) by @littlemisspascal

Morning (Porn star Dieter x Porn star reader) by @write-and-buried

Dave York;

Appreciation (Dave x F!Reader) by @pedropascalsx

My Girl (Dave York x f!reader x Francisco “Catfish” Morales) by @foli-vora

Family Fun Series (Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader x Carol York) by @absurdthirst

Rare (Dave York x fem reader) by @ezrasbirdie

Din Djarin;

Take Me to Church (Din Djarin/Reader Western AU) by @frannyzooey

Vibes (Din x F!Reader) by @mandoblowmybackout

Boxer Din Series (Boxer Din Djarin x Masseuse Fem!Reader) by @djarinsbeskar

Like a Moth to the Flame (monster!Din x F!reader) by @the-scandalorian

A Brush of Life (Hades!Din x f!reader) by @charnelhouse

Pero Tovar;

Ego & Black Powder (Pero x F!Reader) by @psychedlic-ink

The Wolf Series (Werewolf!Pero Tovar x F!Reader) by @absurdthirst

Frankie Morales;

Weeknights (Frankie Morales x F!reader) by @frannyzooey

Please To Meet You (Frankie x F!Reader) by @intheorangebedroom

Still of the Night (Frankie xF!reader) by @foli-vora

Joel Miller;

West (Joel Miller x Third Person Female) by @radiowallet

September (Joel x f!reader) by @wheresarizona

Pedro Across The Street (Calls)

Good Things Take Time (PATS x f!reader) by @oonajaeadira

Masterlists;

@novemberrain-writes - masterlist

@thisishellfire - Pedro masterlist

@foli-vora - masterlist

@wheresarizona - masterlist

@frannyzooey - masterlist

@oonajaeadira - masterlist

@psychedelic-ink - masterlist

@nexusnyx - masterlist

@wardenparker - masterlist

@loversandantiheroes - masterlist

@whiskeynwriting - masterlist

@pedros-mustache - masterlist

@writer-darling - masterlist

@mothandpidgeon - masterlist

@littlepadika - masterlist

@pedropascalsx - masterlist

@absurdthirst - masterlist

@just-here-for-the-moment - masterlist

[asravenous]

plangere

task: how does your character react to learning of richard’s passing? vikram’s block in cambridge, the communal mailroom september 2nd 2005, friday in the evening (7.49PM)

“Are you quite sure you aren’t keen on meeting my sister? She’s a very pretty girl, and she’s interested in you.”

The mail room was never this noisy at night, though he already chalked it up to the ambush just now. He had found Mrs. Singh, ever the enthusiastic matchmaker, milling about outside of the mail room as he made his way there. Her face had lit up as soon as she locked eyes with him, not unlike a predator finding its prey. Vikram’s weekly routine didn’t take much sleuthing to figure out when he barely left the security of his flat, except for work and the occasional errand. In the communal mailroom every Tuesday and Friday? Target locked and loaded.

“Interested? I don’t believe we’ve met,” he mused absentmindedly, resigned to the same, tired conversation. He inserted the key to his mailbox and turned it, pulling the door open before reaching in to grab his small stack of letters. The mailbox was promptly shut and locked again.

“She was visiting and mentioned seeing you in the lift, so I thought why not set the two of you up! Oh, you two would make such a cute couple. Don’t you…” Shuffling through the letters, Mrs. Singh’s fervent pitch was slowly tuned out as he sorted the letters into urgent and unimportant (or as he liked to put it: things he could reply to whenever he was free, which was few and far in between). A familiar looping cursive gave him pause, the creamy texture and color of the envelope confirming his suspicions. Return address: Woodrow House. This was a level higher than urgent. Vikram ripped the envelope open with a faint sense of dread, pulling the letter free.

Dear Vikram, It is with a heavy heart that I write to you today…

The creeping dread set in immediately, gloom weighing down the air in the room. It was almost suffocating, as he struggled to take a steady breath in. Some part of him wished this was an elaborate setup of someone’s sick and twisted idea of a joke. Yet the handwriting was unmistakably Mrs. Tristan’s, and she was never one to tread lightly around such matters. His hand gripped at the letter firmly, skimming through the contents of the letter as his jaw clenched tighter with every word read. Just how… He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

“Dr. Mehta? Are you alright? You look like someone just—” Died. The word was never said, left to hang at the tip of her tongue as she was on the receiving end of his hateful glare. Taken aback, the woman watched quietly as he scrubbed his face in exasperation, seemingly much more haggard and exhausted than he had been a couple minutes ago, and sighed. What a pitiful man… All lonely too. If she had scrutinized him a little closer, she would’ve noticed the tremor in his hands. 

“Sorry. I need to go.” 

Vikram wasn’t really all that sorry, but the importance of courtesy was ingrained in him whether he liked it or not. She was left sputtering as he swiftly exited the mailroom; walking briskly at first before progressing into a jog, then fully leaping over steps as he made his way up to his flat. His hands shook as he tried to unlock the door, the key missing the keyhole a few times. “Fuckfuckfuck…” was the newfound mantra of a man who had trouble believing in the truth even though the facts were laid out bare for him. When the door finally unlocked, Vikram quickly entered and slammed the door shut, breathing hard. In, out, in out… 

The letter’s crushed up and thrown to the side as he made a few calls. The lead researcher, the colleague who asked him to give an introductory course on Quantum Mechanics, that one person who asked to get dinner together… No, that could just be a text. Then, how to get there; a one and half hour train ride to London and an eight hour flight from London to New York. At the earliest, probably tomorrow. The amount of tasks to do just kept growing.

You busy yourself the only way you know how: work. Grief is a strange thing to process when you have yet to accept the dying. It doesn’t feel real unless the dead body’s right in front of your eyes as proof; kind of like Schrödinger’s cat. Richard is still alive in your mind. If you don’t go back to New York, to Woodrow, he could possibly be just a call away. The thought briefly sat in his head, lingering as he threw items into the suitcase haphazardly. It’s such a dangerous thought to entertain. To have hope, only to be crushed by reality. Out of an inane need for confirmation, he picked up the letter from the floor all balled-up. Unfurled it and smoothing out the wrinkles, then read it word for word once again. (For all his hoping, they remained unchanged.)

…our dear Richard has passed away… …bid him farewell…

The sensation of disconnect was just as overwhelming the second time, threatening to swallow the very ground he stood on. It was just for a few minutes but it felt like hours had passed. Vikram had never personally dealt with the complexities of death before, only ever hearing about it from people or discussed in books, and he never had people to grieve for. When he had thought to search for his biological parents in India, he found out they had passed away years ago. All it took was a few phone calls. How do you grieve for people who were essentially strangers? This was truly the first time. Even after death, it seemed Richard was intent on giving him a lesson.

His very last.

[mangasimpqueen69]

Mailroom Crush! JJK x reader

University AU! Yuta Okkotsu x AFAB! Reader

Content warnings! none. cute fluff! slightly angsty. heavy kissing. implied smut if you squint. All characters are of age. MINORS and AGELESS DNI

This is a AU! where reader and Yuta are assigned the same job at university, and feelings begin to blossom. This is my first fic so please be kind! This will get a smutty part 2 maybe! Any creative criticism is welcome! reblogs and hearts are wonderful! Thank you so much for reading!

Ever since you had both been assigned to the mailroom for Work Study at university, you’ve had a crush on each other. He was calf deep into a mail bag sorting out things when you entered, skin golden and smooth like honey, fresh spritzed with a sweet vanilla perfume, and curly hair done up in two space buns, a few pieces haphazardly framing your face due to the humidity outside. It was early Autumn, and while things had been rather cool in the mailroom thanks to the air conditioning, you’d have thought your co worker had been running on a treadmill this whole time. You stand in the doorway before knocking.

          “Hey there! Just making sure I’m in the right place! You’re Yuta, right?” you greet chipperly.

So engrossed in his work, Yuta seemed to slightly jump at the sound of your voice. He dropped whatever mail he was hanging onto and looked in your direction, a smile forming on his features.

“Oh! Hi there… um yeah that would be me!” He responded in an exhale, carefully stepping over any strewn about packages or letters. As he came closer, you could see a small twinkle in his eyes. You also notice the slight blush on his cheeks but chalk it up to how hard he seemed to be working before you arrived. There was no doubt about how attractive he was. You guessed him to be just under 6 feet tall, deep sapphire eyes and lustrous dark hair, coming down to frame his face, hitting just at his cheekbones, though it being a little disheveled at the moment.

You introduced yourself and let him know you were also assigned here from the university. All your schooling was paid for through scholarships, so the work study was just a way for some extra income throughout the year, plus it worked around your class schedule. Formal introductions out of the way, he offers to show you around, though the space isn’t huge, and show you how things were done. You follow him around, listening intently. It was a simple enough job, sort mail and packages as they come in; mail goes into the slot matching the dorm building name and room number and packages get sorted by dorm building and sent next door for dispersal. Yuta showed you a few times how things were done, then offered that you give it a try. It was an easy job all things considered, memorizing what mailbox slots matched what dorm building was probably the hardest part. You helped him finish out the mail bag he was working on when you first arrived, and as soon as the bag was empty, the clock hit 5:45 pm.

“Hey fifteen minutes to spare, we did pretty good!” He beamed at you. You returned the smile, blushing a bit. “Let’s go get some dinner, my treat for a good first day!” He offered, you both got up and exited, Yuta locked the mailroom up.

          “What ya in the mood for?” Yuta asked. “Honestly, Taco Bell sounds great right now.” You laughed. “Taco Bell it is then! And we can just walk, since it’s only half a block from campus. I could eat a whole party box myself.” He relented. You laughed in agreement. The walk was nice. The Autumn air had cooled a bit, and the sky was clear, apart from a few stray clouds.

Once arriving at the fast-food joint, you both ordered and Yuta insisting on paying, even though you had cash in hand. The two of you made small talk as you waited for your order number to be called, Yuta telling you about his major and what he hoped to get out of his degree, and him shyly admitting he was an artist as a hobby. He mostly did pen or pencil drawings but created digital art from time to time on request. You asked if one day he wouldn’t mind letting you view some of his work when he felt comfortable, and he agreed. He questioned you for the same info, wanting to know about what you were studying and if you had any hobbies. You shared that you were a writer but didn’t want to disclose about what most of your content was.

He’d probably think I’m some kind of pervert if he found out I wrote romance/smut. You thought to yourself.

 “Oh, c’mon I’m sure it’s great! What kind of stuff do you write?” he teased. Before you opened your mouth to protest more, the woman working the counter called your order number and you breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s us!” you smile, and practically jump from your seat before Yuta can say anything else. Coming back with the food, you both dig in.

          On the walk back to the university, both of you enjoyed the other’s company. You shared silly dad jokes, talked about video games, what shows you enjoyed, your favorite TikTok’s and whatever else came to mind. Things went on like this for weeks. You two worked, laughed and talked together. On days you would finish up early, you would get dinner somewhere nearby. You became fast friends.

After about a month and a half of working together, the mailroom ran like a well-oiled machine. You both had found an ebb and flow to which you both could enjoy talking, even flirting heavily with one another more often than not. The ‘just a second too long’ glances and ‘accidental touches’ had been exciting for both of you, though neither would admit their crush on the other. Your work was not spared quality either, as tasks were accomplished early and with ease. As the semester wore on and as wonderful as things were, an incessant hiccup had started to appear. Her name was Isabella, though she would insist Yuta call her ‘Bella.’

Isabella would always visit the mailroom under the guise of picking up her orders, even though she knew that she was supposed to pick up the packages that were too big for the dorm mailboxes at the office around the corner. If you were the one who came to the counter, she always wanted to see Yuta, and if you happened to not be on shift with Yuta, she would just bound off without a word. She wasn’t ever necessarily rude, but it was too obvious she wanted Yuta to be with her. Yuta was always kind to her at the window, talking as much as he could, and would always politely excuse himself back to his work when he needed to. The way she would say goodbye to him was so sickly sweet, it almost gave you a toothache. She was a pretty girl, but you secretly hoped Yuta was not into her like that, though you were too shy to admit your own feelings as well.  He never seemed to outright flirt with her, but it was anyone’s guess as to how he felt about her on the inside.

This was the fourth time in three weeks Isabella had come to the mailroom. Yuta was scheduled to work, but one of the extracurriculars he was a part of with the school was traveling today and was granted the day off. You were prepared to hear the same long shrill of Yuta’s name from her lips that you had sworn you’d heard a thousand times at this point, and you sidle up to the counter, leaning against it to rest. You beat her to the punch. “Bella, Yuta’s not in today.” You sigh, taking a moment to think of how much better today would be if he was. Your mood would be much cheerier, not that you didn’t like your other coworkers, it was just always the most enjoyable with him by your side. His eyes would light up at the realization of the awful punchline you just finished a joke with. You would be able to make him double over in laughter and see his flawless smile. Isabella’s voice snapped you back to the present.

“Nope, sorry, only Yuta can call me that. Speaking of, where is that gorgeous thing?” She questions, trying to lean her head into the mail room as if you were hiding him away. “He had a trip with a school club or something.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t like how she talked about him when he wasn’t here. Yes, Yuta was very attractive, anyone with eyes could see that, but he was so much more than that. Isabella only seemed to want him as arm candy.  She only talked about his outer appearance and didn’t seem to care about much else.

She huffed a bit, then looked at you a little more intensely than was necessary. “I like him a lot you know.” She started. “Yes, everyone knows.” Both you and your coworker responded in tandem, having to resist the urge to roll your eyes. You laughed at the absurdness of the situation. “He is single right?” She asked. The temptation to lie was inexplicably strong. As much as you wanted to tell her he was with you, it wouldn’t be right. You had tried so many times to get the words to come out, but you always swallowed them back down, shamefully embarrassed. You and he were friends. You were too scared to ruin it with a relationship. “As far as I know.” You groaned, just wishing Isabella would leave. “Good, I plan on asking him out soon. Wouldn’t want anything in the way of that, would we?” She smiled sinisterly before heading off down the hall. Your thoughts begin to race at the realization that you may not have much time to confess before Isabella makes her move.

Once you are home for the evening, you call your best friend for some advice, and as much as part of your brain wanted to just hear them say not to worry about it, they laid everything out crystal clear. “Look,” your best friend started through the phone. “From what you tell me about him, how you talk about him, and the pictures you post on snap and send me of you guys hanging out and having fun, you like him, and he likes you! I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy since we went to the beach for my birthday last year.” You agree.  “You know I love you, but you have got to have courage here. The bottom line is, if you don’t say something, someone will come along and scoop him up before you get your chance. Don’t miss the opportunity to be happy.” You thank them and hang up, saying it is late and you want to get some sleep.

Another month and a half of the semester practically flew by. Both You and Yuta had been doing well in classes and were able to even help each other out with projects on occasion. The University was closing for Fall break in about two weeks, and you had to admit you’d be a little bummed about not seeing Yuta for a little while. Working with him several days out of the week had always made even the worst day a lot better for you. Isabella had been doing her twice a week visits, each time Yuta answering as kind and courteous at ever.

 You had heard through a few coworkers that Isabella would try to make her move today, and you still were not ready. You had been so in your head and back and forth, that you couldn’t keep track of everything. You see her come into view of the mailroom window, and your heart drops. You try to look as busy as possible, pretending you don’t see her so that she won’t see you looking so defeated. Tears threaten to leak from your eyes, and you decide you are not going to cry here. You quickly wipe away any tears and gather yourself together enough so that you can excuse yourself to the bathroom. Looking up, toward Yuta, you can see Isabella reach her hand out to hold his, and you swallow hard, forcing back any tears. Your face was red in embarrassment, sadness, and frustration.

“Hey Yuta, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, be right back.” You say, your voice coming out almost unrecognizable. He breaks the conversation from Isabella to voice concern over if you are doing okay, seeing as you sounded like you were on the verge of crying, but by the time he looks in your direction, you’ve already exited through the side door.

Through tears you search for an empty room, not really wanting to cry in the bathroom either, on the high probability Isabella decides to follow you in there to gloat about her new relationship. You test a janitor utility room door to find it unlocked, and quickly close yourself in. It was crowded with mops and brooms, light bulbs, replacement rolls of toilet paper, and several trash cans, but there was enough room for you. You moved some things around and found a perch on a sturdy stack of boxes. You sit in the dimly lit room, just letting the tears flow for a bit. You wrestled back and forth with your feelings. Maybe it was wishful thinking that someone like Yuta could want someone like me. We were never meant to be more than friends. He just deserves better. The negative thoughts came in quick succession, making you cry again after you had just dried up your tears.

While you never outright said anything to Yuta, it was not exactly a secret to the rest of the mailroom staff that you liked him. People put two and two together pretty easily. Whenever anyone brought up the two of you dating, you both played things very coy, assuring people you were just friends. Everyone always had the same reaction. They would laugh and say, “Friends, yeah okay, not with the way you two flirt.” and smile at us all suggestively. Both of your faces would turn red in response, and you would both just laugh it off. Surely with as often as Isabella visited, she knew of your crush. What did I ever do to fucking Isabella? You thought aloud. When the tears finally stopped, and you felt like you had returned somewhat to normal, you headed back to the mailroom. You we not sure how long you had been gone, and Yuta made no mention of it when you did return. You both finished your shift and went home for the day. Yuta tried to text you, asking if something was wrong, but you ignored it. Yuta decided it was best not to push it. After a few days, things between the two of you were back to normal.

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 Today was the last day the mail room was open, and it was only for half the day, so you were both wrapped up with work by 3:00pm. Most of the other staff and students had already gone home, as classes had also been let go early, while some professors opted to not have class at all.

“Whew! I don’t think I’ve ever moved that quick in my life!” You exclaimed, wiping the nonexistent sweat from your forehead. The mailroom wasn’t actually busy, you just knew Yuta loved it when you were all theatrical about everyday life. His wonderful laugh greeted your ears. “Don’t know how we survived!” He responded cheekily. “I say we treat ourselves to some Starbucks, the one down the block is open until 8 I think.” You offered. “And this time, I’m paying for you, Yuta.” You narrowed your eyes playfully, daring him to protest. He scoffed but played along. You both make your way outside once the mailroom is locked up.

 I’ve got to do it today. You thought, hyping yourself up to ask Yuta about Isabella. While she had not been coming around for the last bit before break, you assumed it was because she was dating Yuta, and had been seeing him outside of school. You were thankful for that at least, as seeing her with him would hurt you more than you ever wanted to admit out loud. It was probably rude to not be asking about his relationship, as he is one of your best friends, but you weren’t sure you had the mental strength to handle it. You were slowly working over getting over him, but it was harder than you had initially thought.

Once settled at Starbucks with your drinks in hand, you turn to head back to campus so you can both get your cars and head home. On the walk back, you fell into your same old rhythm, as if nothing had ever been wrong. Between laughter and talking, you could have sworn you seen Yuta eye your lips a few times and steal glances at your cleavage too. Your top wasn’t too revealing, but the V-cut of the neckline showed off just enough to be enticing. Your thoughts drifted to how his lips would feel on yours, his talking becoming slightly muffled in your ears. His lips were slightly plump, especially his bottom lip. They were a cherry blossom shade of pink, slightly bitten, as he would often chew on them when he was thinking of what to say. You wanted to feel them, on your lips, cheeks, neck, chest, anywhere. It wasn’t right to fantasize about him, but you wanted him so badly. It was almost criminal how much you wished for him to be yours.

“Anyway, that’s how I ended up with a big scar on my left shoulder.” Is what he was saying once you zoned back into reality. You look over at him. Your heart must have taken over in this instant, because your brain sure wasn’t in charge when you spoke next.

“Oh, hey Yuta, you saving some whip cream for later?” You laugh, motioning for him to wipe his mouth. You knew there wasn’t anything there, but you just had to know what his lips felt like, even if it couldn’t be from a kiss.

“Geez that embarrassing,” he laughs nervously, swiping at the corner of his mouth, feeling for the invisible bit of cream.

You smile at him. “Here let me.” You say, lightly placing your fingers along his cheek, and using your thumb to swipe across his lips.

They felt just as you suspected, dreamily soft.

Yuta swallowed the breath that had caught in his throat at your touch. “O-oh, uhm thank you.” He said, his cheeks turning a shade of cotton candy pink. You thought it was impossible for him to be any cuter than this. Just as the thought crossed your mind, you felt ashamed.

He is taken, what am I doing?

          “So, are you going home for break or?” You asked Yuta. “Oh no, I’m staying home. Actually, I’m about twenty minutes from here. My cousin has a place he isn’t using right now since he is overseas volunteering with some organization he’s a part of. He told me I could stay there since rent is already paid for the year. All I got to do is pay the utilities and keep it clean.” He says nonchalantly, as if it were normal to be that lucky.

“That’s pretty sweet actually.” You reply, wishing you had the same luck.

“I have an off-campus apartment too, but unfortunately, I have to pay utilities and rent. My roommate makes it a bit less lonely when she is actually there. I usually only go home for the Summer.” You emphasize the ‘and’ to be dramatic, earning a laugh from Yuta. You make it to campus and turn to say bye to Yuta. He interrupts you midway.

“Well, let me at least walk you to your car, wherever it is parked. You look like you know how to take care of yourself, but I wouldn’t feel right letting you walk alone.” Yuta offers.

“Ahh, I see I have a true gentleman in my company. Should I call you Mr. Okkotsu?” You tease him. He looks at you as if he is mulling it over, and you can’t help but snicker at him. “Yes, you can walk me to my car, thanks for offering.” You smile.  Not your boyfriend! You must remind yourself.

-----------------------------------in the parking garage--------------------------------------

“This is me!” You say, leaning back against the front door of your car to face Yuta. He is lagging a bit behind you but smiling at you, rubbing the back of his neck as if he is nervous. “Today was fun…” He begins, meeting your eyes. “I’m glad you got placed in the mail room, your jokes and talking with you makes things much better.” As he is talking, he is closing the bit of distance between your bodies.

“Well thanks! I’m glad my corny jokes work on somebody. You are wonderful to talk to also. Thanks for putting up with me the whole semester.” You respond sheepishly, unable to look him in the eyes. With only a few steps between the both of you, you take a second to remember what you wanted to say, your heart beating faster, breath quickening. Neither of you saying a word. You take a deep breath to steady your nerves, and to hopefully stave off any tears. “Yuta, I meant to say this sooner but congrats on you and Isa…” Your statement is cut short by Yuta reaching out and cupping your cheek as you did to him earlier that day. You could feel his hand tremble just slightly. His eyes seemed to twinkle in the low lighting of the garage. You meet his gaze; his cheeks dusted that same shade of cotton candy pink.

“You just have something right...." He leans in, his lips ghosting across your own. He seemed almost afraid, too nervous to go in for a full-on kiss. It was sweet and chaste. You had no idea a human was capable of being this gentle. “There.” He finishes, a small smile forming on his lips.  “Oh...wow.” you mumbled, not realizing you were holding your breath until he pulled away and you exhaled. Your body was instantly too hot, and you are unable to look Yuta in the eyes anymore. It was too intense a feeling.

“I am so, so sorry.” He begins to apologize profusely, thinking he had upset you. You halted him immediately. “No need to be sorry Yuta. That was absurdly sweet.” You reassure him, reaching out to lightly squeeze his bicep. You take a mental note of how much muscle he was hiding under his lean frame. “Wait, are you not dating Isabella?” You question, the dreamy moment being broken. “No. I mean she did ask me out, but I let her down as easy as I could.” He takes a second to pause, biting his bottom lip, as he always does, “Wait, is that why you left all upset that one day in the mailroom when she was at the counter?” he asks, remembering how any time he tried to bring it up, you shut him down saying it was nothing. You look at the ground, sort of embarrassed. “Yes, she let it be well known that she liked you, and that day was when she was supposed to ask you out, and I liked you so much it just hurt.” You confess, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Look,” Yuta began, lifting your chin to meet his gaze. “Isabella is pretty, but she’s just not for me. I’d much rather have you.” He smiles. You can’t help the bit of a laugh that comes out. “That was so corny.” You smile at him, doing your best to hide the fact that your heart is doing summersaults in your chest. “Well, I learned from the best.” He muses. “Corny or not, that doesn’t make it any less true.” He confesses wistfully.  “The relief that washes over you is immense.

 He likes you! All this time you were worried, and it was you he wanted! Let’s make up for lost time then! Your inner monologue excitedly rambles.

“In that case, allow me to reciprocate.” You say, smirking.

You pulled him back toward you with his forearm in your grip and rested your bodyweight on your car. Once his body was flush with yours, you draped your arms over his neck and looked into his eyes. “I’m going to kiss you back now, is that okay?” You asked him to make sure he was still into this. “Yes please.” he responded, barely above a whisper, as if he was trying not to get the two of you caught.

 Why is he so shy now? You wonder.

You lean up a bit on your toes to kiss his forehead, then went in for a kiss on the lips. Unlike his barely-there kiss, you wanted to give him a bit more. You pressed your lips to his, darting your tongue out to lick at his plush bottom lip. At that, he melted into the kiss and your body a bit more, as if asking you to do it again.

Who were you to deny this sweet man? Especially now that he wanted to be yours.

You grant his wish, and this time he parts his mouth slightly so that you can nibble on his bottom lip. He hums in approval, and you can feel his body heat as he presses into you. He smelled of Sandalwood and citrus, and you felt intoxicated by it. You take the initiative to take a finger and tilt his head to the side, where you would have access to kiss up his jaw to his earlobe. The whole time, Yuta’s hands are roaming your sides, lightly squeezing your waist, then traveling back up to rest on the tops of your shoulders, not yet daring to wander to your chest, though if you had to guess, he had been craving to feel your breasts.

Your heightened state of arousal emboldens you enough to whisper into his ear. “I can feel how much you want me.”

It was true. His erection had been pressing into you for a bit, and it was by no means unimpressive. His jeans made it a bit difficult to tell as far as length went, but you knew he was on the thicker side. Even nastier thoughts flooded your mind, as your cell phone began to buzz, interrupting the moment. “Ignore it.” Yuta mumbled, dipping his head to kiss your neck. You had thought about doing just that. This dream turned reality was too good to let slip by. No sooner had the buzzing stopped, your phone started dinging. Once, twice… four times, and then the buzzing again. You sighed. “Yuta, I have to check.” He gave you a chaste kiss to the forehead before moving back to give you room. Checking your phone, you roll your eyes in response.

“My roommate needs me home.” You relent. Yuta just smiles. “Okay, text me when you get home, so I know you are safe, okay?” “Don’t I always?” You tease him. You get in your car and start it up, as he steps back and waves goodbye. You are starting to back out when you see him run back up to your window. You just laugh and roll it down. “Yes?” You ask sweetly.

So, just to be clear, we’re dating now, right?” He asks.

You giggle at him. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Maybe I’ll invite him over next time my roomie is out. Your brain reels with the fun you two will have now that you are finally together.