#oh and did I mention. I was in charge this whole time because boss didn’t show up

[madredhattie]

shoves my head into a pillow and screams

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 6

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, sexually charged conversations, teasing/banter. Smut, sex toys, minor bondage, spanking. A guest star of Anthony DiNozzo! I didn't really want to bring in a whole THIRD fandom into this but it ended up working out really nicely and I can play around with it in future chapters too! It feels like it's been ages since I've updated this so clearly the last week was a long one lol. Remember how I said I wanted to be a chapter ahead from now on with my series? Yeah that quickly did not happen. LOL. I'm gonna try to keep up with it, and I promise y'all won't wait longer than a week between chapters, I just need to hunker down and write!

Working for Heather meant that you worked insane hours that could change at the drop of a hat, but it also meant that you could essentially make your own schedule whenever you wanted. You could do most of your job from home or a hotel, as long as you had Wi-Fi you were in the clear, you spent a lot of your time gallivanting around D.C to finish whatever tasks you needed to. Shuffling your schedule around constantly meant that you were more than given the liberty to a Thursday afternoon off and that is exactly why you were meandering down Wisconsin Avenue with Tony in tow. Some of your friends questioned why you always went shopping with him, but the truth was he knew style, understood expensive taste, always told the truth if something looked bad and the entire experience was more efficient. If you went out with your girlfriends on a shopping spree you got dragged into twelve stores you needed nothing from and had to wait while they tried on countless amounts of outfits. With Tony the most that would happen would you’d have some extra browsing time at L. Priori because he got distracted by the watches.

“You got some big White House party coming up or something?” He asked, taking a sip of the coffee you’d bought him earlier.

“Huh?” You glanced over your shoulder as you picked up the small bag, “no.”

“We’ve done jewels, we’ve done shoes,” he pushed the door open for you, holding it while you crossed through the entry way and back out onto the street, “you dropped off three dresses for alterations and looked through the catalogue of what’s coming in…”

“I just want to revamp my closet a little bit, make sure I’m prepared for summer, you know how many extra garden parties I end up at.”

“And your boss is okay with that amount of cleavage?” He asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I think you’re bullshitting me.”

“I got a little carried away doing spring cleaning and tossed half my closet.” You bluffed, “I work so much I forgot I actually wore the other shit and now need to replace it.” Veering off to the side your hand tugged open the door to Jaryam and Tony followed you inside.

“When’s your next date?” He asked with a grin.

“I never said anything about a date.”

“Then why did you just drag me into a lingerie store?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “I didn’t drag you anywhere, you love this shit. I just want some new pieces; you’ve got the right eye for colour and the masculine fetishistic imagination to tell me which ones I’ll look the best in.”

He chuckled darkly, not bothering to disagree with you as you made your way further into the shop, he was a pace behind you, fiddling with a price tag when he scoffed and you turned back to him with a raised brow, “I’ve heard you complain about the prices in Victoria’s Secret and that’s got nothing on this, a thong for a hundred and fifty dollars?”

“It’s… about the quality.” You shrugged, “thirty dollars for a scrap of fabric that falls apart in a month made in a sweatshop isn’t a good investment.” You picked up the pair that he was looking at, reading through the tag, “something hand stitched made with quality fabric that’s going to last? Worth it.”

“Hmm.” He replied, surveying you for a minute as you put the thong back on the rack, “you know, I noticed when you picked up the coffee that you used a black card…”

“You’re really working those sleuthing skills today, aren’t ya?” You teased back with a grin, moving onto a wall of lace bras.

“It’s not exactly a difficult mystery.” He smirked, following you, “fancy shoes, nice jewels, new clothes, expensive lingerie,” you turned back to face him, an unimpressed look on your face and he practically caged you into the wall, “who’s your daddy?”

“Ew, Tony, fuck off.” You groaned, shoving at his chest as he laughed, “coffee and meals can be turned into a write off. I used Heather’s card.”

“Bah! Fine, keep your secrets. I’ll just run your financials when I get back to the office.”

Now it was your turn to laugh, “they call you a very Special Agent DiNozzo?”

“Why yes, yes they do.” He smiled, getting a little smug about it and you shook your head at him.

“Then explain to me how running my financials would let you in on whose card I’m using.” You asked, watching as he opened his mouth to give you some witty response but he couldn’t find one, gaping for a minute before he let out a defeated huff and you tugged him in the other direction, “now c’mon, I know you have a good eye for lingerie.”

“Now that, I will not deny.” He replied with a smile and you did roll your eyes as he followed you deeper into the shop.

You combed through practically every shelf in the place, trying to figure out what kind of styles you were going to settle on before Tony started to share his opinions. He reminded you how good blue looked on you when you picked up a soft pink set and suggested the lace florals over lace butterflies. You were narrowing it down between a handful of choices and he was quick to intervene when he noticed you were eliminating all the variation.

“Wait,” he cut in, swiping the one you were trying to put back on the shelf, “keep that one. Get rid of this one.” He plucked the peach set from your collection, tossing it into the return pile.

“It’s cute!” You protested.

“Exactly. Everything you’re keeping is ‘cute’, you’re playing it too safe and I know that’s not you. The lilac one is the nicest, little hint of lace for a bonus, so get it.” He started flicking through the rack you had your favourites on, “keep the teal one for the crystals, plus it matches that pair of heels you bought. The rest of this batch can go but add these to your buying list.” He picked up a lacy black and red set that was mostly see through and included a garter belt, handing it off to you, and a gorgeous deep green set. “That’ll look great with your skin,” his brow furrowed for a second as he examined it, “wait it’s not your size, you’re what?” His eyes were suddenly on you and you groaned,

“Stop staring at my tits.” You stated dryly as he turned around, grabbing another one of the green set from the shelf.

“Thirty four C, right?”

“I don’t know whether I should be impressed or grossed out that you were able to figure that out.”

“They don’t call me Very Special Agent DiNozzo for nothing.” He grinned and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to go try these on.” You scooped up the remaining sets, “not for your viewing pleasure! Occupy yourself.”

You weren’t surprised in the least when all of Tony’s recommendations were right and you were happy to be leaving with a variety of options. Returning from the dressing room you found him near the till looking through accessories and he shot you a cocky grin as you placed all of his choices down on the counter. You shuffled the shopping bags in your hand over to the other one,

“Can you hold this?” You asked, handing him your purse as you pulled Emily’s card from within it, passing it off to the cashier. Once the purchase was completed and the cashier was wrapping up the lingerie, she placed the card down on the counter and out of the corner of your eye you saw Tony making a move for it, managing to swipe it up before he could get to it.

“Hey!” You swatted the back of his head and he grimaced.

“Ow. That was worse than Gibbs.” He muttered.

“You fuck around and you’ll find out.” You returned but he was too busy on his phone to really pay attention.

You took your purse back from him, tossing it over your shoulder as you thanked the clerk and added the bag of lingerie to the others with your shopping and the two of you made your way back onto the street. You jumped when Tony’s fingers prodded at your side, digging into your ribs.

“C’mon… let me know something, please.” He batted his eyes at you, “I just helped you pick lingerie; I deserve to know something. Doctor? Artist? App developer? Congressman?”

“Nope, nope, nope and hard nope.” You replied with a huff and he groaned so you finally turned back to him, stalling in your steps, “what I will tell you, is that she most definitely outranks NCIS, so you can officially drop it.”

“Ohoho… a new lady friend…” It was his turn to slow in his tracks, eyes lingering in the window of the next shop, “you need any special accessories for that?”

“Tony you’re insane if you think I’m taking you into a sex toy store.”

“Meh, doesn’t really matter since you’ve already covered that step.” He grinned and your brow furrowed.

“What?”

“Swiped your phone and went through your emails.” With a laugh he tossed the device back to you as you let out a gasp, “peach flavoured lube, nice. Nipple clamps? Kinky, didn’t realize you were into that kinda pain.” That earned him a hard punch on the arm, “but that double sided dildo with vibration? Now that sounds like a real party.”

“Anothony DiNozzo!” You scolded and he let out a small whine of a scoff, gesturing toward the sex store.

“I’m the perfect person to give sex toy recommendations, c’mon.” He protested and you sighed.

“Tony. You are a straight man. What could you possibly known about sex toys for me to use with another woman?”

“One of those wand things, Hibachi?”

“That’s Japanese barbecue, but nice try.”

“The wands!”

“You’re going for Hitachi.”

“Close enough!” He exclaimed, gesturing with his hands, “the big one’s better but I think they sell smaller ones too, more portable.” He waggled his eyebrows at you and you sighed.

“Think? Tony, pull your head outta your ass. Any self respecting person with a clit already owns one of those.”

“Really?” He smirked at you and you did your best not to groan.

“I’ve got three, a mini pink, a mini green and the big one, which yes, is far superior. Can we go now?”

“Fine.” He groaned, feigning annoyance, “you dragging me to a nail appointment next?”

“No, I was gonna buy you a late lunch.”

“You were? Or is your mommy dearest gonna buy lunch.” He exaggerated the word, nearly moaning as he said it and you immediately grimaced.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

“Yup, that one felt wrong coming out. My bad, that’s on me.”

**

Emily turned down dessert service, asking for the cheque instead as she gave the server a soft smile, picking up her cocktail once again as she turned back to you. In turn, you finished your drink, placing the glass down on the table as you stood, your hand coming to squeeze at Emily’s thigh softly as your lips brushed against her cheek.

“Give me a five minute head start, I’ve got a surprise for you.” You scooped up your phone, shooting Emily a wink as you sauntered away from the table in the direction of the elevator.

Her eyes followed you through the entrance of the lounge, narrowing in on your ass as you pushed the elevator button and the sparks began to fly through her body. It hadn’t been a particularly long week, but it was very safe to say that you had been on her mind more often than not. Images of your naked body strewn across the bed floating into her brain, making her cheeks flush while she was torturously bored with paperwork. A too long tedious conference call lead to her zoning out, daydreaming all the things she wanted to do to you, the noises you made echoing through her mind. It was almost a given that night that she had a rather self soothing shower when she got home, pulling her laptop out when she finally crawled into bed to take a look at what fun things she could buy to occupy your time with in the future weekends.

Emily settled the bill, slowly draining the rest of her cocktail until she was certain she’d given you enough time to do whatever it was you had planned before she finally left the restaurant. The key card beeped against the lock and she stepped inside the suite, letting the door swing shut behind her before she made sure it was locked. She stepped out of her heels, dropping her purse on the side table in the entry way before rounding the bed into the suite, catching a glimpse of you laid out on the bed and her lips twitched up into a grin.

“Well that certainly is a welcome sight.”

“Yeah?” You asked, sitting up and shifting onto your knees, “you see something you like?”

“I see plenty I like.” She walked up to the foot of the bed as you crawled on your knees to greet her, your hands settling on her hips as one of hers curled around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to hers for a kiss.

Her tongue easily slipped into your mouth when you let out a satisfied groan, both of you relaxing into the kiss, lips dancing with grace against each other. Her hand slipped into your hair, pulling out the pins to let it fall loose around your shoulders, pulling at it lightly. When her teeth scraped against your lip you couldn’t help but moan, your hands drifting up her body as you slowly began to unbutton her shirt. She broke the kiss to help you untuck the fabric from her pants, letting it drop to the floor behind her before her fingers began to trace the lines of the teal lingerie set, floating over the gems decorating your chest.

“You like the crystals?” You asked, small grin on your lips and she nodded.

“They’re gorgeous.”

“They’re Swarovski.” You replied with a near smirk and she let out a huff of a laugh.

“You really went all in, hey?”

“Just wanted to make sure I looked nice and pretty for you.” You shrugged coyly and she chuckled, giving you a once over.

“Well you do.” She leant down, kissing you gently before her hands nudged at your shoulders, “you’re not the only one who brought something fun, lie back princess.”

“I noticed.” You replied, a gleam in your eye as you dropped into the pillows, an arm extending to the nightstand where you picked up a silk tie, “multifaceted, curious as to what your intentions are.”

“First…” Emily rounded the side of the bed, “I want to see what’s under that gorgeous bra.” She nodded at you and you sat up, hands flying behind you to unclip it, gently tossing it to the side, “good girl.” She plucked the fabric from your hands, picking up a longer one from the nightstand before kneeling on the bed. “Give me your hands.” She instructed and you held your hands out for her, wrists gently pressed together as she began to wind the fabric around them, “is this okay?”

“Absolutely.” You replied, looking up at her with darkening eyes as she tightened the silk.

“Do you have a word?”

“I’m fond of peach.”

“Perfect.” With a wicked grin she placed a gentle kiss on your wrist before guiding you to lie back with your arms over your head and she looped the shorter piece through your bonds, securing the other end to the golden bar of the headboard. “No surprises there.” She purred as she slid off the bed, letting out a satisfied hum as her eyes dragged over your body.

“Hm?” You raised a brow, watching as she moved back to a spare chair.

“Just how pretty you look tied up like that.” Emily tossed a grin over her shoulder, “but you are going to need to roll over for the second part of your treat.”

You nearly let out a whine when her hands came to her belt buckle, eager to be able to see both what was coming next and what she had under her clothes. Instead of risking it you decided to behave, rolling onto your stomach, your arms stretching over your head as you twisted it to the side, just barely able to see Emily under your arm. She had busied herself with getting rid of her clothing, a neat pile forming on the small bench next to her bag as she pulled out the strap, swiftly stepping into it and securing it around her hips. Your mouth was practically watering already and then she reached into her bag again, pulling out a crop with a cute little heart on the end and you had to hold back a moan.

Emily could see the way your body tensed, how your hips ground down into the bed as she reapproached it and a dark chuckle escaped her lips. Kneeling on the bed behind you her hand grasped your ankle, spreading your legs further apart and you did your best to arch your back, presenting yourself to her.

“Such obedience.” She murmured, letting the crop lightly trace up your inseam as you let out an airy breath.

Emily slowly trailed the crop up and down your legs, just the slightest hint of touch that she knew you were absolutely begging for in your head. She could see the way your body twitched whenever it got close to the heat between your legs and a wicked grin took over her lips. The crop finally came up over the swell of your ass, softly circling and tracing patterns on your skin and you finally let out a whine. Since this was the first time you’d actually made a louder noise, Emily figured this was the time to both give in and start to really tantalize you now. She raised the crop, swatting it down onto your ass and you let out a low moan.

“You like that?”

“Mmhmm.” You eagerly nodded into the pillows and the crop trailed across to the other cheek, repeating the circles before coming down harder on that side and your breath caught in your throat.

“Ohh…” Your fingers interlaced, squeezing tightly, “harder, please.”

“My little princess likes it rough.” Emily husked from behind you, “somehow I’m not that surprised.”

The crop came down on the same spot harder than the first before she flicked it over your other cheek, swatting just as hard, watching the way your body reacted, jolting at the touch before grinding your cunt down onto the bed. She brought the head of the crop between your legs, pushing the fabric of your panties into your pussy, rubbing the leather up and down your folds as you moaned, arching into the touch.

“Fuuckk…”

Emily chuckled darkly, bringing the crop up before hitting your ass with more force, smirking at the louder moans leaving your lips, the way you were pulling against your bonds, wishing your hands were free. The sounds of the spanks echoed through the room, bouncing off the walls as your moans grew louder and longer, every time the crop was brought down onto your body it grew from a tingle to a pleasurable burn. Emily continued to trail the leather across your skin, occasionally her hand gently rubbing across the spot to sooth the burn, little praises and coos leaving her lips. The tingles each time she spanked you began to build, growing together with each hit of the crop until there was a fire building right under your skin, whimpers and whines leaving your lips as you buried your face into the pillows. Every swat of the crop made your entire body shiver and you were nearly about to start begging for more when she moved it back between your legs.

“You really like this, hmm?” She asked, pressing it against your cunt again, “making such a big wet spot on these nice panties.” She rubbed it harder against you, watching the way your wetness continued to soak the fabric, “you know, I’d take them off and stuff them in your mouth if you didn’t make such pretty noises…”

You groaned softly, your hips rocking back toward the touch, a little whimper leaving your throat when the crop nearly rubbed against your clit. Emily hummed softly, lifting the crop up before bringing it back down, this time onto your pussy and you couldn’t help the noise that escaped you.

“Oh fuucck…” Your head buried deeper into the pillows, your eyes scrunching shut as you felt your pussy fluttering around nothing, your clit nearly pulsing already, juices smearing across your underwear.

Emily’s hands grasped at your hips, flipping you onto your back watching as your legs instinctively fell open for her to see the growing wet spot on your panties. She brought the crop back to your cunt, rubbing it harder against you as you started to whine, resulting in another swat that brought a gasp from your lips.

“You like this even more, don’t you princess?” She asked with a grin and you nodded, “you want your pussy spanked too?” Spank. “Think you can come from just this?” Spank.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “more, please.”

“Always such nice manners.” She praised, her fingers slipping into the waistband of your thong, tugging the fabric down your legs and tossing it behind her. Her hands soothed up your legs, spreading them even further apart from each other as her thumbs dared to brush the edges of your cunt. “Such a pretty pussy. God you’re just fucking drenched already.”

Emily picked the crop back up, rubbing it through your slick folds, pressing harder as she brought it to your clit.

“Please.” You whimpered and she chuckled softly.

The first hit was on the gentle side, her eyes tracing up your naked body, watching your face for any sign of discomfort but all she found was a look of sheer pleasure. Your eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as breathy moans escaped them, it was all she needed to bring the crop down even harder the next time.

“Fuck.” Your body twitched off the bed, cunt pulsing as more juices dribbled out of it.

“That’s it princess.” Spank. “You’re doing so good for me.” Spank.

“Oh god…” Your hands clutched at the silk ties as your body shivered, pleasure building higher and higher with each time the crop hit your cunt.

“I know you’re close.” Spank. “Just a few more.” Spank. “Pussy’s so wet.” Spank. “Let go for me.” Spank.

“Fuck!” You cried out, your back arching off the bed, pulling against the restraints as your orgasm shot through you, pussy pulsating around nothing as your juices dripped onto the bedspread.

“That’s it.” Emily cooed, the crop gently rubbing against your cunt, smearing your wetness all around it and your thighs. “So pretty when you come for me.”

“Please…” you whimpered, “need you.”

“You want more?” She asked, gently spanking your pussy again and you whined.

“No, please! Need your cock.” You were absolutely begging, pussy fluttering, feeling so entirely empty. Despite the powerful orgasm you needed to be filled, stretched around Emily to finally feel completely satisfied.

“So needy tonight.” Emily teased, dropping the crop to the side as she climbed over you, running the tip of the toy through your folds, “this what you want?”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded furiously, “please.”

“Alright.”

Emily didn’t hesitate, knowing you were absolutely drenched she sunk her cock fully into you until her hips met yours and you let out a very satisfied moan. She pulled back just enough to sneak her hand between your bodies, turning on the vibration on the base of the toy, just against her clit and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She rolled her hips, pulling out until just the tip was left inside you and set a steady pace, fucking you thoroughly. Each thrust of her hips had your body twitching up off the bed, pulling against your restraints as you ached to touch her, pleasure shooting through your limbs.

“Fuck.” You groaned, “feels so good.”

Each thrust of her cock the head brushed right over your g-spot, pulling louder moans from you each time as your pussy began to clench down around her. You could feel your juices smearing across both of your bodies as she fucked deeper into you, picking up the pace as she knew you were getting close again.

“Are you going to come again for me angel?” She cooed, her hands gliding up your body to toy with your nipples, pinching them and rolling them in time with her thrusts.

“S-s’close.” You moaned, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet hers with each thrust.

Your hands tugged against the silk ties again, gasping when Emily’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking it into her mouth for her tongue to flick patterns across it. The double, nearly triple sensation if you counted the vibrations hitting your clit each time your bodies met was nearly too much, your pussy making almost more noise than the ones coming from your mouth. All you could do was whimper and whine, your head too fuzzy to get actual words to come out, the coil inside you got tighter and tighter until Emily’s teeth sunk into your chest and it burst through you.

“Fuck!”

Your body trembled, the tingles shooting all the way from the tips of your fingers to the tips of your toes as Emily continued to fuck you. Her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a low swear, now focused on chasing her own release. She sunk fully into you, pressing the vibrating part of the toy directly against her clit and it gave you the opportunity to roll your hips against hers, grinding the base harder onto her. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip as your eyes scrunched shut, another orgasm bursting through you from the sensation and Emily let out a soft cry.

“Oh god.” Her hand slipped between your bodies, switching the vibrations off before she sat up.

Emily panted slightly, attempting to catch her breath as she reached out, swiftly undoing the ties and your arms were finally free to drop to the bed. You let out a soft groan, flexing your hands before Emily caught them in hers, examining your wrists to make sure you hadn’t pulled too hard and hurt yourself. Once satisfied that you hadn’t she let them drop and shifted on her knees, slipping out of you and watching your juices dribble onto the bed.

“Mmm…” you sighed, your lips curving up into a grin.

“What?” She asked with a raised brow.

“That was hot.” You replied, “kinda wish you could come inside me though.”

“Well…” she leant over you, kissing you before nipping at your lower lip, “I’m sure that can be arranged for next time.”

_____________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sires-blog

[burnwater13]

DataWorks calendar page for January 4, 2024. Boba Fett on the throne at the palace on Tatooine. From The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 1, Stranger in a strange land.

Crime lord! Boba Fett was a crime lord! That just wasn’t right. Grogu wouldn’t have believed it if Fennec hadn’t told him herself. Now he didn’t know what to do. How could you watch one of your idols collapse under the unbearable weight of corruption? It was heart breaking. 

“Sir Grogu. Calm down. That lasted less than a couple of minutes. Daimyo Fett wasn’t a ‘crime lord’ as much as he was an interim leader for Mos Espa and eventually all of Tatooine.”

Grogu sighed. That was a big relief. He was glad that the Majordomo was there to clear things up. Interim leader sounded a whole lot better than crime lord, even though Grogu had no idea what interim meant. He wondered if he should ask Majordomo but decided against it. 

“The Daimyo has sent me down here to collect you. It’s meal time and he would like to discuss some opportunities with you and your guardian.”

Huh? What kind of opportunities? Majordomo should know by now that he couldn’t mention food and work in the same sentence with Grogu. He never got past the food part and thinking about what the Daimyo’s chef had made for them to eat that day. 

It was clearly a benefit of being in charge of Tatooine, even on an interim basis, that the best, most skilled artisans stepped up and offered their services to the Daimyo. The chef who looked after the Daimyo and his guests was more than a little special. First she knew exactly how to prepare Grogu’s favorite treats the way he liked them best. He didn’t know how she knew, but she did. Then she seemed to actually know what everyone else liked to eat too. There was never a bad meal when she was in the kitchens of the palace. That’s why mentioning food to him was so distracting. 

Grogu nodded at the Majordomo and pointed toward the main part of the palace. He’d been pacing in the Rancor pen because it was sturdy enough for how aggravated he’d been. He’d kicked the odd stone and bone out of his way and had ignored the pain in his foot because the pain in his heart had been too overwhelming. 

He followed the Twi’lek official back into the proper part of the palace and completely forgot about his concerns on behalf of the Daimyo and any work that he might ask Din Djarin and Grogu to perform on his behalf. He could smell the food that was being prepared and he wondered, when they finally reached the throne room, if he’d been floating along using the Force because he didn’t feel tired at all. 

“Sir Din Grogu!”

Grogu giggled. Majordomo loved announcing everyone’s presence when they entered the throne room. It seemed silly to Grogu. He was pretty unique and was certain that everyone there already knew him. But he knew that people should be able to do the things they loved doing so he never scolded the Majordomo the way his dad did. 

“Very good. Din Djarin let the three of us speak before we enjoy this feast. Fennec, please bring a chair over for Sir Din Grogu.”

“Sure Boss. Good to see you’re doing fine kiddo. I was wondering if you just rode the rancor back to Mos Eisley.”

Fennec addressed him as she walked over to an alcove and located the small seat that the Daimyo had fashioned just for him. It looked like a regular chair, but when Grogu pushed a button, it would float up so he was at the same level as the Daimyo and they could talk eye to eye.

Grogu grimaced at her and quickly signed that he understood things better now, thanks to the Majordomo.

“Oh, Majordomo explained it did he? Good. Then you should like this job he’s going to talk to you two about. It’s right up your alley.”

Huh? Grogu could swear that sometimes Fennec spoke in a code that he didn’t really understand. But he had realized that sometimes he just needed to go along with it and this was one of those times. Those fried gorgs were not going to eat themselves, although if they did, that would be cool. And gross.

“Very good. Thank you Fennec. Well, Sir Din Grogu, I have asked your father if the two of you were available to assist me with a special project. He said that you would make the final determination of whether or not you would invest your time and energy into the project. It is really quite simple. I would like to have a pond constructed within the palace grounds. It will need to be stocked with fish and other such creatures. Does that sound like something you would like to do? Find me some fish for my pond?”

What?!!! That sounded great! He and his dad could go all over the Outer Rim and collect specimens and bring them back and if any one of them over produced, well, Grogu could have a fresh gorg dinner! It would be perfect.

“Roger that!” Grogu announced with a grin. He could wait to get a start on the project…right after he ate a good meal. 

“Wow, Boss. I thought the kid would say no. After all, Kamino is pretty far away and all those species have been declared endangered. The New Republic won’t be happy about that.”

“Fennec, I intend to preserve them for future generations. Surely there is a societal value in that?” 

Din Djarin chuckled, but Grogu hadn’t bothered to pay attention to any of that. A crime lord wouldn’t be bothered with things like stocked fishing ponds, right? It would be like having a rancor pen under the throne room. You just wanted the things you cared about close by. That made a lot of sense to Grogu. Maybe Fennec had never had a pet and just didn’t understand how comforting they could be? 

Boba Fett talking to Fennec Shand, while sitting on the throne in Jabba's palace. Caption reads: What? I'm the crime lord. He's supposed to pay me. From The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 1, Strange in a strange land.

[tuesdayisfordancing]

Picard 3.3 thoughts part two:

“He’s not ‘Dad’.” “He’s a good man.” Relevance, William? Kid hadn’t said he wasn’t (though he will procede to lol) just pointed out that some guy you meet when you’re 23 isn’t automatically your dad because of genetics. (Also aw he said please.)

That being said Riker is pretty cute here overall. And Jack’s understated wtf face when he says “I spent 2 decades watching you get cooked up before you were born” is great. What a thing to say about a guy’s parents.

“Bigger the legend the more disappointing the reality” this is about WESLEY and I’m not wrong.

Um. Did they add the DNA line after seeing all the jokes about the accent being genetic or? I’m gonna be honest it would have been better by my lights to ignore this rather than call attention to it, but I’m sure some people prefer a slightly awkward explanation to none.

Oh my god I was right he literally did say “ugh no thanks” to the whole concept of having a dad. I thought based on the delivery of “I never had one” that I was wishful thinking. This is amazing. Oh man I gotta rewatch the first two episodes with the knowledge that Jack knows exactly who this dipshit is.

Holy shit Picard you PHENOMENAL JACKASS??? Literally changed his fucking mind about whether he should have protected Jack upon learning that Jack knew who he was and hadn’t wanted to meet him??? What the absolute everloving fuck????? !!!!!!

“I think it might be time you called me Number 1” was good

Raffi and Whorf are very cute but I’m having trouble getting properly invested because I just. Don’t we should be starting from a place of her being isolated and miserable to begin with!

Mixed feelings about Beverly being a better doctor because she doesn’t over rely on fancy new tech. I mean, I like it mostly but. Hm something bugging me and I can’t put my finger on what.

Beverly completely ignoring the CMO’s hypothetically being in charge is fantastic though because it’s both a strength (in this case she was needed!) and also an arrogance that could absolutely have led to her getting in the way and causing problems. Hope this is explored more.

She summons Jack to help her! Because they are a team! I don’t know like on the one hand it’s obvious, if nothing else probably the doctors and nurses on the ship would hesitate whether they should listen to her when she’s arguing with their boss, but the whole thing just felt like it got across so well the way they are used to relying on each other.

How is Raffi’s hood staying on while she runs? She and Whorf continue to be cute as hell.

Seven Jack teamup!! This was actually a secret item on my wishlist that I didn’t mention because it had nothing to do with themes I just really like Jack and want him to get to do cool stuff and what’s cooler than bonding with Seven? Also as far as I’m concerned this proves that that one fic is canon.

Are there going to be. Consequences later for Jack knocking out a security person or are we just skipping that? LMAO the doors though.

I really thought that guy was like, going to assume Jack was the bad guy, not that he was the bad guy? But anyway I’m ALWAYS down to whump the pretty boy. Yes please.

Curious like a proper sucker about the Seven hallucination. “Connect the branches. We’ll be together soon. Find me.” What does that mean! I also wonder if he’s picturing whatever’s going on as Seven just because actual Seven is there talking to him, or for another reason?

Hmm, okay it’s not that Picard doesn’t deserve a significant share of the blame but Will you were in command, you made the call to listen to him!

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 1

You Won’t Be Bored With Us

Thank you @discordantwritings for this request! I've been so excited to write some Cross Guild shenanigans, I hope you enjoy it! Also, this will be part 1 because I did turn it into a whole ass thing, lol. Just a miniseries, I swear!

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader (Eventual smut, but not this chapter. Reader is in a relationship with Buggy first, then meets the others in this chapter.)

Numbers Game Masterlist

Word Count: 2863

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: You left your stable/boring life as an investment banker to have some adventure. Unfortunately, that sweet Warlord of the Sea didn't follow your financial advice, and now you and your clown are at the mercy of his biggest lender and his new business partner.

Rating/Warnings: Eventual Smut, 18+, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Alcohol, Swearing, Angst, Established Relationship, Canon Typical Violence, Manipulation, mention/brief threat of slavery, Humiliation, Blood and Violence, Pet names, Power Imbalance, Crocodile is a villain

A/N: The reader starts out with Buggy, so Crocodile and Mihawk will be enemies to the reader at first. Crocodile in particular is a VILLAIN toward the reader at first, threatening violence and there's a mention of paying off debts by selling Buggy and reader into slavery, as he threatened in the anime. Please do not read this if toxic, threatening relationships are triggering for you. Dynamics will shift after the initial chapters, but he's still a villain and I wrote him that way in this fic. It's very much dark romance style/bad guys need love too/Mafia boss type vibe.

Fuck, my sister was right. 

“Hurry it up, Y/N, it’s time to go!”

“But, Captain Buggy,” you matched his near frantic whisper, “Your crew are calling for you. Don’t you need to give them orders?”

“Fine, fine! Just keep packing!”

You barely heard the commands and lies that he spewed from the balcony, your hands shaking as your mistakes blared through your mind.

You’d been so bored. You had a good, stable life. You were great at your job. You’d started at a bank, and soon you were managing investments for wealthy clients who didn’t want to do their own work to stay wealthy.

You were so good with numbers. So good at helping your clients make smart, safe choices.

Yet here you were, about to get killed by the fucking Navy because you’d wanted a little adventure.

The screams started getting louder, and you heard what had to be explosions, luckily not close by. Yet. 

Kat told me this clown would get me killed.

Tears burned in your eyes as you pictured your sister’s face, pinched with worry and shock.

“He works for the government now! I’m going to help run his organization, I’ll handle the finances, and his mercenaries will help the Navy out.”

“Are you fucking insane? He’s a Warlord! Not some Navy officer,” Kat almost yelled, face red as she leaned toward you.

“I… He’s different, okay. He’s really sweet,” you mumbled, looking down as your fingers twisted in your lap.

“Oh my fucking gods, Y/N, did you fuck that clown? What has gotten into you?”

You didn’t know what you were grabbing and packing, tears streaming freely now.

“Captain! The warships around the island are getting attacked!”

“Who’s helping us,” Buggy screamed, and the confusion and hope in his voice made you drop everything.

Racing to the balcony, you were just in time to watch two Navy warships go down in flames.

Desperate hope filled you now, and you reached for his hand.

He pulled away as news of who your savior was came closer, shouts of triumph sending chills through you, freezing Buggy in place.

“It’s Crocodile! He really does work for Chairman Buggy! We’re saved!”

Crocodile. Crocodile!

All those berries, drained away with Buggy’s antics. All those berries that you were technically supposed to be in charge of. 

All of it was Crocodile’s.

“Buggy, Buggy, please. Where can we hide?”

He turned at your hoarse whisper, his mouth hanging wide in shock.

“Buggy!”

“We don’t have the money to pay him. He’s gonna kill me!”

His strained voice grated your nerves as you pulled on his hand, dragging him away from the balcony, and the adoring eyes of his henchmen.

He was near babbling as you pulled him along, searching for anywhere to hide. 

A frustrated sob left your throat as you remembered what you’d been feeling recently, even with his idiotic spending, and refusal to listen to your words of reason.

I thought I was falling for him.

But the sight of him falling apart now, not only failing to protect you, but even himself, was making you regret every single moment.

Your heart felt raw, burning more with each yank on his hand, especially since his hand was only connected to that fucking pouch he likes to wear.

Then that hand was torn away from yours, Buggy’s yelp making you jump. 

Buggy went flying over your head, sliding down the hallway with a grunt. 

Before you could turn around, you were encased in someone's shadow. You shook as you felt the heat of a body, inches from you. The first thing you saw was the glinting gold of a massive hook, then you had to crane your neck. 

Towering above you was a man in lavish clothes, a purple vest with an orange scarf, and a fur coat. He seemed to be ignoring you, his cigar dangerously close to dropping ash onto your hair.

You felt like prey, like a rabbit. Shivering in fear, just waiting for the wolf to walk away or devour you.

“I know you,” he directed at Buggy, his deep voice rumbling through you. “I thought you’d try to flee without paying me back.”

I’m so close to him. How can he tell I’m so weak? If I had a weapon I could try to hurt him.

As if he could read your thoughts, Crocodile looked down at you, tapping his cigar off to the side before the ashes fell. 

“I don’t know you.”

Your mouth gaped open as you stared into his cold, scarred face.

“Well, you see, Crocodile,” Buggy started bullshitting, moving closer. “Buggy’s Delivery Service may look like it’s doing well, but we’ve, uh… We’ve lost a lot of our big earners, and…”

Buggy trailed on, spouting excuses that made you want to scream at him, until you felt his hand grip the back of your shirt. 

He slowly pulled you backward, away from Crocodile. New tears fell as your pathetic clown tried to shift his body in front of yours, shielding you.

He was too late.

The sting of cold metal wrapped around your neck as Crocodile’s hook captured you, like the prey you were.

He yanked you up, until your toes were barely scraping along the ground as he looked you over.

“If you can’t pay, clown, we can sell you into slavery. I wonder how much your woman is worth.”

“Come on, Crocodile,” Buggy drawled, inching closer again. “Don’t say such horrible things! We broke out of Impel Down together, didn’t we?”

“I lent you money for that sake,” he countered calmly, before looming over Buggy with even more danger edging his voice. “But if you can’t pay, you’ll have to take full responsibility.”

“Responsibility,” Buggy choked out, eyes flicking to you when you gasped from Crocodile's movements.

“I’m gonna found a new company, so I need money now.”

You could see the frantic wheels spinning in Buggy’s head before he puffed himself up, making his body look huge as he spread his limbs out in the red fabric.

“Then, let me help you with that business! This former Warlord of the Sea will serve under you. I’ll work off my debt! We have great resources!”

You brought your hands up to hold onto the hook as Crocodile lifted you even higher. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, or if he had just forgotten that he was holding you there. You watched Buggy try to sell the plan, try to save you both. 

“We have advertising design, printing, transportation, and the finest financial adviser on the seas.”

Buggy emphasized the last with jazz hands shaking wildly in your direction, and you cringed.

Crocodile hummed, setting you on the ground in front of him, but still tugging on your neck with that cold metal as he looked you over. You let out a breath when he released your neck, but then the sharp point of the hook traced teasingly on your cheek, stopping your breath entirely.

“W-Wait, come on, Croc. We’re pals! You don’t need to–”

“If you’re in charge of the finances,” Crocodile breathed down on you, ignoring Buggy’s pleas, “then it’s your fault that all my money is gone, isn’t it?”

You started to shake your head, but the cold prick of metal held you frozen.

“No, it wasn’t her fault,” Buggy almost yelled, voice missing its chummy tone now. “Please, we didn’t– I didn’t follow her advice. Tell him baby, you’ve got all those plans you made, right? The investments?”

Your eyes clenched shut, a wave of tears cascading down as he defended you.

“Is that true, girl? Did you try to keep this idiot from wasting all my money?”

His breath was hot on your face as he leaned over you. Your lip quivered as you waited for him to open his jaws, and swallow you whole.

“Tell me.”

“I… I created a plan to manage those funds, using much of them to invest and create reciprocal income for the organization.”

His eyes burned into you, silently demanding more.

“Unfortunately, I was not able to go forward with those plans,” you said weakly, eyes looking down, seeking freedom from his glare.

“I wonder why that could be, hmm?” 

He brought his hand to your face now, huge fingers gripping your chin to force your eyes back to his.

“Tell me why all of my money is gone. You are the financial advisor, aren’t you? Should I bleed the berries out of you?”

“No, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering down again until his grip on your face became painful.

“It’s okay, baby,” you heard whispered behind you.

“Ca-Captain Buggy did not follow the financial plans that I laid out for him, or my recommendations to adjust spending when funds became low.”

Crocodile’s lip twitched up, and he released you, making you stumble.

He reached for Buggy, hitting him again until he slid across the floor.

“No, please!”

“Why are you crying for this potato sack? He nearly got you killed.”

The menacing man sighed as you failed to speak, then grabbed Buggy by the hair.

“Don’t worry, we’re not killing him yet. Go get your paperwork, I wanna see if you really are a numbers girl.”

Shame flooded you as you nodded, doing nothing as Buggy was dragged away like trash. 

There’s nothing I can do. Numbers, money, that’s all I’m good at. 

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself that you are really good at that. And maybe that skill could help you get out of here alive. 

Maybe I can help Buggy after all. 

~ 

That sliver of hope vanished when you walked through the door, your briefcase in hand.

Off to the side you saw Buggy’s officers, eating and laughing happily, as if nothing had happened. 

As if their Captain’s head wasn’t dangling from Crocodile's hand, bruised and bloodied while that hook kept shoving against his skin.

Crocodile was seated on the plush, green couch, using Buggy’s limp body as a foot rest. He held Buggy’s head over the middle of the couch, between him and another man.

The other man’s cold, amber eyes felt like blades through your skin as you froze in the doorway. You recognized him, though you’d hoped you’d never meet the swordsman in person.

Dracule Mihawk. What the fuck has my life turned into?

Buggy coughed, spitting out a piece of paper. That stupid fucking flyer his men had made. 

They hadn’t even waited for approval before spending the money on printing and distributing it. You’d wanted to strangle every fucking dumbass that touched it when you saw the bill.

“The word ‘humiliation’ isn’t enough to express how I feel,” Crocodile growled, as Buggy apologized for the Cross Guild poster, showing Buggy as their leader. 

“As much as I’d like to kill him,” Mihawk mused, his voice filled with calm disdain, “it’s not a bad idea to have him as our figurehead. I would rather live peacefully than become an Emperor of the Sea.”

He stood gracefully, heading to the counter to pour himself a glass of wine. He turned to look back, his head tilted like an animal watching for prey.

“Let him take the heat, and we can get rid of him whenever we want.”

“You’re right,” Crocodile laughed, shoving his hook into Buggy’s mouth.

You let out a choked gasp, grateful that they weren't going to kill him now, but feeling the looming threat that the future held.

And there were Galdino, Alvida, and even Mohji and Cabaji, ignoring his pain, laughing and stuffing their faces. Their betrayal made you ache for Buggy.

Until you remembered the danger you were still in. 

I’m betraying him too. I’m going to work for these men. I’m going to stay alive.

“Who is this,” Mihawk drawled as he took his seat again.

“Uh, I–”

“This might be our numbers girl. If she proves herself,” Crocodile threatened, dropping Buggy’s head onto the floor behind the couch, before patting the cushion beside him. 

“Come here, girl. Show us how useful you can be.”

With wide eyes, you walked toward them, avoiding stepping on Buggy’s body as you sat between the two terrifying men. 

Crocodile’s arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, so you sat slightly forward, avoiding his touch. 

Mihawk tilted toward you, and you found yourself staring at the beautifully embroidered details of his black and gold coat, avoiding looking at his bare chest and abs between the rich fabric.

He cleared his throat, making you jolt, before bringing your shaky fingers to unlatch the briefcase. You struggled, gasping when Mihawk reached over your lap to open it for you.

“Gods, Galdino, will you bring this girl a drink," Crocodile huffed, and you could feel his eyes on you. "Where the fuck did the clown pick up such a skittish little thing, huh?”

You focused on your paperwork, pulling out some of the plans you’d initially brought to help manage the funding Crocodile had provided. 

Mihawk took them gingerly from your hands as Galdino passed you a glass of wine. You were sure that he must be pissed at being ordered to serve you like a waiter.

You chugged the whole glass of wine, closing your eyes while Crocodile chuckled, and Mihawk reviewed your work. 

“It’s well done,” he praised, handing it to his partner. “These skills will be helpful with getting this operation running.”

“As long as the idiots in charge actually listen, of course” Crocodile joked, flipping through the pages. 

He tossed the papers aside, motioning for Galdino to fill your glass again.

“Sorry about all of that in the hallway. You work for us now.”

“Okay,” you breathed out, barely audible.

The back of his hook touched your face, the smooth metal guiding you to look at him.

He studied you for a moment, and your brain tried to make sense of him, of what was happening. His black hair was slicked back, a few stray strands falling over his forehead. The long scar across the middle of his face made your brain hurt. You couldn’t imagine what kind of wound that must have been.

His deep set eyes were judging you, and you fought every instinct to hold his gaze instead of running. 

Finally, he let out a low laugh.

“When I find something of value, I protect it. Do your job well, and you’ll be taken care of. Better than with this clown, that’s for sure.”

You winced as his foot dug into Buggy’s body, eliciting a moan from the man who’d brought you here. 

Chewing the inside of your lip, you sipped on your second drink as they discussed plans to announce the lie that Buggy really is the leader. 

They don’t need me here. I’ll just go to my room.

Each time you almost stood, or asked to be excused, your brain went blank. You just sat there, between these two ex Warlords, these two men who radiated power. The night went on, until all of Buggy’s betrayers trickled out.

“Wait.”

Crocodile’s deep voice commanded as you stood to follow Alvida and Galdino out, desperate to not be alone with these men. But here you were.

“What’s your name? Unless you want us to call you Numbers Girl.”

You settled on the couch, still sitting away from the back to keep from leaning against Crocodile’s arm.

“It’s Y/N.”

“I am curious, Y/N,” Mihawk spoke up, swirling his wine in its glass. “How such an intelligent and attractive woman ended up with this pathetic clown.”

“Please, leave her alone,” Buggy’s weak voice creaked up from behind the couch.

“It’s just curiosity,” Mihawk continued, and you couldn’t help meeting his golden gaze, his large hat tilting down toward you.

“Come, Y/N,” Crocodile joined in, “I could use a laugh. How did you end up with Buggy?”

“We… We met at a bar.”

They stared, and your skin practically crawled at the pressure for more.

“I’m an– I was an investment banker. I was having a drink after work, and overheard Buggy discussing his new organization. I offered my services.”

You shifted your head slightly to look back and forth at them, and their confused faces almost made you laugh. Almost.

“Why,” Crocodile asked, his deep voice almost dangerous as he demanded an explanation. Mihawk just cleared his throat, and took another sip. 

You wanted to comfort Buggy. To remind him that you’d been drawn to him. That he was funny, and sweet, and that your time together that night was what made you want to join him. 

But you knew the real reason you chose to go with Buggy, and you knew they’d only punish you both if you talked about being with him. So you told the truth.

“I was bored.”

It felt like the air around you shifted. The weight of their stares, and the sound of their low laughter made your skin flush with heat.

They both leaned forward, surrounding you as they brought their glasses to tap against yours.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Crocodile’s husky voice rumbled beside you. “You won’t be bored with us.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter! It hurt beating up my Buggy boy like this, but I made it through, lol

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[dycefic]

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it.  They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

[thetaleoflevi]

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Lovers Who Hesitate

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Pairing: Levi x fem!reader

Content: NSFW, Modern AU

Content Warnings: Insinuated poor relationship with family, explicit language, workaholic reader, alcohol *wine, drunk reader, vomit, 18+ smut, rub a dub dub…sorry, hand job through boxers, PIV sex, breast play, clitoral stimulation, scratching, more 18+ things, 18+ warning no. 3!, friends to lovers

Word Count: 13.4k

Description: Just a whole fic dedicated to Levi and Reader acting like dumb lovers throughout their friendship.

A/N: I hate writing descriptions//summaries. You guys know this and yet I still mention it every time I post something. Apologies :p. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy! 💙

⭐️Taglist: @urfilgoth @ackermandick

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You were in love. You fell so hard, and it was the messiest thing you’d ever felt. It was upsetting when you finally came to terms with it, because you had given into one of those things you said you wouldn’t get into. “Money and success are the way of life,” you vividly remember your mother telling you when you were just twelve years old. Love had no room in the equation, or so your days on this popular, lonely planet showed you.

The universe was cruel for letting someone like him get in the way of you making life your bitch. It was stupid. He had a habit of walking into your office and watching you work, knowing he had things to get to before the end of the day. You found it childish whenever you blushed at the feeling of his body heat radiating from behind you. He enjoyed the rage that engulfed you when you were forced to stay later because your boss was a lazy asshole who pretended he didn’t know how to do his job so that you would do it for him. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. Right…?

“Hey, Levi?” You poke your head through the doorway of his office.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” He spins his chair to face you, folding his hands in his lap, giving you all of his attention. It shouldn’t affect you as much as it does, but you can feel your ears getting warmer by the second.

“Oh, um, I was gonna go get some coffee from the shop across the street, and I was wondering if you wanted something.” You straighten your posture, your whole body in the room now.

“Did you ask anybody else?” His lip quirks up a little. You’re too kind for your own good.

“N-No. You’re kind of my only friend here,” you chuckle nervously, your whole face now growing warm at the lame confession.

“I see. I think it’s only fair that I join you, then. As your friend.” He stands up from his chair, grabbing his coat from the hook built into his door.

“I can just bring it to you. You don’t have to come with me,” you insist. “It’s right across the street. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

“It’s lunchtime. I doubt you’ll be back in two minutes.” He grabs his keys, putting them in his pocket as he nears the exit. “The lunch rush is killer for that tiny shop.“ He’s out the door before you are, but when he continues walking and doesn’t hear you behind him, he turns around.

“Come on. We can even sit inside if you want.”

You nod, an awkward smile on your face as you follow closely behind him.

—

“Have you had anything from this place? I’m looking at the premium black tea. It says premium but in my experience, anything with the word premium before it is a simple product with an extra charge.” He scans the board filled top to bottom with different items handwritten in a curly font.

“Actually, I haven’t. I just really needed some caffeine, but my go-to cafe is closed today.” You inch closer to the person in front of you as the line moves forward.

“Ah, then I guess this will be a first time for the both of us.” He looks away from the board, facing you. Your cheeks have a pink tint to them. You shove your sweaty hands into your pockets, still clenching them tightly.

“I can help the next guest,” the cashier calls to you and Levi. “What can I get started for you guys today?” The brunette says, emerald eyes flickering from your breasts to your eyes.

“I have a question about your premium black tea. What about it makes it a premium drink? There’s an extra charge for it, so it must be deserving of it.” Levi talks to the cashier, not getting full attention from the him. His name tag said ‘Eren’.

“Uh, yeah, give me a second. Mikasa!” He calls the black haired woman in the other room. She was quick to get beside him.

“Yes, Eren?” Her soft spoken voice was a great contrast to her pretty face.

“The guest wants to know what makes the premium black tea a premium drink.”

“Oh, the tea leaves are imported from China. The price per pound is a bit expensive, so we do want to make sure we make our money back eventually.” Her tone is flat as she answers any follow up questions Levi has.

“Did you need anything else, Eren?” Her voice gains its softness again.

“No, that was it. Thanks, Mikasa.” He winks at her, the woman’s pale face going red in seconds. She walks away, quickly turning to hide her blush.

“I’ll try the tea, then. What do you want?” Levi turns to you.

“Coffee,” you blurt. You’re not blind. You can see the direction the man’s eyes are looking in, and it’s unsettling.

“Okay. Did you want any sugar, milk, or creamer?” Levi catches onto your uncomfortableness.

“Yes.”

“Okay. She’ll have her coffee with milk and sugar.”

The cashier rings it all up, giving Levi a receipt. Once the drinks are ready, Levi goes to pick them up. “It’s polite to look customers in the eye when helping them.” He picks up the two cups, looking at Eren’s name tag one more time before going to the table you sat at.

“This one is mine and this one is yours.” He puts the cup down in front of you. “I don’t think we should come back here.”

“Why not?” You bring the cup to your lips, the hot liquid instantly burning your tongue as it enters your mouth.

“I know somewhere better. We’ll have to finish our work quicker, but I promise it’s worth it.”

Why does he have to be so impressive? Why can’t he give you a reason to hate him? A reason to focus solely on your life and forget about him.

“That sounds nice, but when aren’t we slammed with work? We got lucky today.” You attempt to push away from the idea.

“Why does it have to be during work?” His sterling eyes look into yours, his focus unwavering.

You think you should just come clean. You can’t stray off the path of success. Sadly, happiness isn’t part of the equation either.

“Levi, I-“

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. Your boss’s name pops up on the screen.

“One second,” you say, clicking the green button. Your boss wanted to know where you were, and unfortunately you got an earful.

Levi took the time to admire your features. Your lips formed the syllables of every word so elegantly, and your word choice is so careful, like you’ve prepared for conversations you haven’t had yet for days. He looks down at your neck, a simple necklace decorating it. Levi realizes something as you defend yourself on the phone. You’re beautiful, kind, and you know what you want, but you seem unavailable. You seem oblivious to his advances, or just plain uninterested.

“Okay. See you there,” you say, ending the phone call. You exhale frustratedly. “Boss called. I have to go.” You stand up, pushing your chair in with one hand, picking your cup up with the other.

“If you have to go, I have to go.” A small smile forms on his face.

“No, you’re fine. He didn’t ask for you.”

“If I sit here alone, it defeats the purpose of me coming with you. I wanted to spend my break with you.” He stands, repeating the same process as you.

“Sorry, Levi. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy the drinks next time.” You blush as he gets closer. The smell of his cologne wafts into your nose, and suddenly you feel even more nervous than before.

“It’s fine. We’re not coming back here. Let’s go.” His palm lands on your upper back, guiding you towards the exit. He turns to look at the cashier one more time, giving him a cold expression before following you back to the building.

You went right back to your office and slaved yourself for another three hours, sipping on the coffee that got cold as you focused on the endless reports on your computer screen. You clicked the last key for the day, slouching in your chair immediately after. Your phone buzzed on the desk, and the screen glowed with a notification. Levi’s name popped up.

Have dinner with me?

Your blood ran cold and your heartbeat was erratic. What about you intrigued him so much? Why did he want to spend time with you? What made you special?

Okay. Nothing fancy.

Just for tonight. Let me take you somewhere nice.

‘This sounds like a date’ you typed before deleting the message.

This is a one time thing, Ackerman. What time?

9PM. I’ll pick you up.

Deal.

—

It’s eight forty-five and you’re still panicking about how you should do your hair. It’s so unmanageable, too. It keeps sticking out in different directions, and you’re stressing about it like hell.

Just parked. The reservation is for 9:30 and it’s a 20 minute drive. Not trying to rush you or anything :)

No. The smiley face. You wasted a solid three minutes staring at it, and your hair still looked crazy.

—

You got in his car, feeling proud of yourself for being able to tame your mane.

“God,” Levi says, gawking at you. He’s blushing and you don’t even notice because you’re too focused on second guessing your outfit choice.

“W-What? Don’t we have to get going? It’s nine ten.” You try to distract him from your appearance.

“Forget the reservation. I’m cooking for you.”

“Oh, but you spent all that money. Let me at least pay you back.” You open your purse and pull out an inch of your wallet before Levi pushes it back in.

“It doesn’t matter. You can pay me back by letting me cook for you. I promise my cooking isn’t as bad as you might think.”

You chuckle before giving in.

“Okay, fine.”

He grins, putting the gear in drive, before driving you to his lovely home.

—

“Make yourself at home. Can I get you like something to drink?” He taps your shoulder, signaling for you to give him your coat.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” You feel strange in his house, not comfortable, but not totally uncomfortable. Being in a house that isn’t yours makes your nervous for a number of reasons, the main one being that if something breaks or goes missing, you’ll be the first person to blame as the invitee.

“I was gonna have a glass of wine. Are you sure you’ll have the same?” He goes into the kitchen, heading towards a cabinet where he stores fancy alcohol that is reserved only for the most special occasions. The occasion of today—you’re spending time with him outside of work, and that makes him feel like a hundred lightning bolts are powering him up.

He feels good about having you in his home. He prefers it because it’s more personal for him to cook for you than to pay for someone else to do it.

“Yeah, that should be fine.” You tiptoe towards the kitchen, stopping on the nonexistent line that divides the kitchen and the living room. You watch Levi as he skims through the labels on endless bottles of wine, not knowing that he’s choosing the most elegant one to share with you.

“This one looks good. We’ll start you off with half a glass because I don’t know what your alcohol tolerance is like.” He reaches up to grab two bulbous glasses from the cupboard.

“I don’t drink much wine, so I wouldn’t be able to tell you either.” You chuckle, still awkwardly standing between the two rooms.

The scarlet colored liquid pours into the glasses, yours only filled halfway, as promised, while Levi’s fills up just a little more.

“I’m gonna boldly assume that you have a high tolerance for alcohol. Correct me if i’m wrong.”

“Exactly. I’m still going to sip on it, but only because I’m trying to prove a point.” He goes into the fridge and brings out colorful ingredients for the meal he’s going to wow you with.

“Which is?” You question.

“Hmm…I need this, and this…and some of this,” he mutters to himself as he picks more ingredients from the drawers. He puts them all in a basket, thoroughly washing them before setting the basket on the counter so that he can rinse his cutting board and a knife. The water shuts off and he sets the cutting board over a damp towel.

“I know how to cook more than just scrambled eggs and ramen noodles.”

He finally says something about the way you’re still standing between the kitchen and living room, quirking a brow at the strangeness. “Sit on that stool for me, will you?” He points at a circle shaped stool that positions you in front of him, with his knife. He rolls up the sleeves of his light grey dress shirt before starting the prepping process for dinner.

You talked about so many things while watching him cook. How he got lured into the company you both work at, how much you both hated your lousy boss, dreams, places you’ve always wanted to go to. You got stuck on that last one for the longest time because Levi kept offering to take you to the places you only saw in your dreams. You settled for going on a spontaneous trip to Salzburg with him. The only rule was that it couldn’t be any time within the next two years, and that the trip had to be spontaneous. He agreed.

“It smells so fucking good, Levi.” You inhaled the smell that filled the air deeply. The profanity was a surprise, but he was glad you liked the aroma of the food he’d put so much effort into.

“One more minute.” He leans against the counter, watching as you eye your glass of wine. Half of it was gone, and you felt fine, or maybe you didn’t. Maybe that’s where the vulgar word came from.

“Time is a weird concept, don’t you think? In another dimension, the food would be done already, and in another dimension you would barely be putting it into the oven. I hate to break it to you, but in another dimension, we got carried away finding out about each other, and your food burned.”

Levi had figured out that day that your alcohol tolerance was weak. “I think it’s ready. Let’s get some food in your stomach.”

His oven mitts were cute. They were a gift from someone named Hange, and regardless of how stupid Levi thought the penguin littered, baby blue mitts were, he didn’t have the heart to throw them away. Hange moved hours—miles away, and these were one of his prized possessions.

—

“This is so good. Where did you learn to cook?” Halfway through the meal you sobered up a little. Partially because you stopped drinking the wine and stuffed your face a little.

“I’m self taught. I came to a realization during my final year of university,” he takes another sip of wine, taking his time to tell you his background of cooking, while you’re hanging onto every one of his words.

“What was the realization after all of that?” You ask, finally taking another sip of wine.

“I never want to live off of instant macaroni and cheese or frozen pizza ever again.” He picks up the perfect serving of vegetables and steak with his fork, feeding it into his mouth. “For something that takes two minutes to make, you get some shitty paste of a meal, when really, if you take more time and put in a little more effort, you can make something healthy—something that actually fills you.”

You suddenly feel ashamed of your stash of Kraft macaroni and cheese.

“Do you know how to cook?” He asks, washing down his last bite with a sip of wine.

“Not like this. I can cook you a piece of steak at most.” You savor the last bite of your meal. It’s something you wouldn’t even think to make in a million years.

“I can teach you, if you’d like,” his face warms up at the idea of spending even more time with you.

“No, I can’t ask you to do something like that for me. I’d only test your patience, and your patience is already tested at work.” You smile politely.

“I would have so much patience with you.”

Your face goes rosy at his last sentence. He didn’t mean it that way, but sometimes your mind likes making you think in that manner.

“Well, i’ll leave that at a maybe.”

—

“More wine?” He asks for the fifth time that night.

“Yes, please, Mr. Ackerman,” you slur. He had drank the same amount as you, maybe even more, yet it made less of an effect on him than you.

You stare blankly at the remaining drops at the bottom of your glass.

“On second thought, I don’t need it. It’s getting late, and I have to walk home,” your eyes were halfway shut and you spoke sluggishly.

“There’s no way you’re walking home in this state.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “And why is that? You’re telling me I can’t go home?”

You’re a mess. A stubborn, beautiful mess. Levi feels honored to be allowed to see you this way. You’re not stressing over work, you’re not stressing over family expectations. You’re intoxicated and honest.

“Maybe,” he replies to your cold gaze. “I’ll give you two options. One: you spend the night here. I have an extra room you can sleep in and i’ll be right next door if you need anything. Two: we sober up in the next few hours and i’ll drive you home as soon as I can.”

You go into a pensive state, struggling to remember the first option.

“One is my favorite number so i’ll go with that choice.”

At least you forgot how irritated you were a second ago when Levi said you couldn’t walk home.

“Levi, my favorite number is one,” you repeat.

“You mentioned that earlier.”

“Becauseeee, it’s so lonely. I could keep it company.” You blink. “Are you lonely? Am I keeping you company?”

“Yes.” That answered both of your questions.

“I’m so happy to be here with you, you know. I have something to tell you, but you can’t tell anyone. Okay?” You scooch closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

“Okay,” he says, mainly to entertain you.

You lean in, cupping his ear as you whisper what you’ve kept to yourself for months, maybe even a year now.

“I have a crush on you, Levi.” You giggle in his ear. “You can’t tell anyone, though.”

His cheeks are bright red, and suddenly it’s difficult to sit so close to you. His silence scares you, and you’re scared he might spill tea that isn’t meant to be spilled.

“Swear you won’t tell.”

“Who would I tell?” He asks, turning his head to face you.

“Your friend Hange and the people at work. Please don’t tell them, Levi. It’s embarrassing.” You hide your face behind his shoulder. “Swear.”

“Okay, I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”

You come out of hiding and kiss his cheek multiple times, a surprise that spreads fire to his whole body.

“I like you a lot. I’ve been dying to do this since…” you hiccup. “I don’t remember, but it’s a really long time,” you slur as you hop onto his lap, holding his face in your hands as you pepper more kisses all over it.

‘It’s just kisses,’ Levi thinks to himself. If it goes further, he’ll put an end to it.

“Your hair is so soft,” you say, twirling a strand between your fingers. You sigh, your breath bringing goosebumps to his skin. Something must have disappointed you, because you stopped immediately and put your face in his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asks, looking down at you. He’s hesitant, but eventually he puts a hand on your head, smoothing down some ruffled parts of your hair.

“I-I don’t want to say it. It’s embarrassing,” you speak into his shoulder.

“You said i’m your only friend. That means you should be able to tell me anything.”

You hum in agreement, lifting your head to face him once again. You pull the straps of your dress down, revealing your bare shoulders. You can’t look at him as you do it, so you look at the wall behind him.

“I-I want you to take me to the bedroom, Levi.” You lower the bust of your dress, exposing the matching red strapless bra you’re wearing.

He wants this so badly. He hasn’t wanted anything as much as he wants you, in so long.

“How about we get ready to sleep?” He pulls your dress back up, sliding your arms back into the straps.

“But Levi, I need you.” You squeeze his waist with your thighs.

“You need to sleep it off is what you need,” he says, holding onto the bottom of your dress so it doesn’t ride up when he carries you to the extra room.

“Okay, maybe next time,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his shoulder as he stands up. He carries you as if you weigh no more than a feather. He can hear what sounds like quiet snores coming from you before you even make it to the room. He flicks the light switch on with his back, before moving towards the bed. He lays you down on the comfy bed, but you refuse to let go of him. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck tightly.

“You wouldn’t let me sleep alone in here, would you?” You mumble, your eyes still closed.

“I think it would be inappropriate if I stayed,” he whispers as he unlinks your arms from his neck. He straightens his posture, looking down into your barely open eyes.

“Levi, stay,” you whine, reaching your arms towards him slowly like a sloth. “You have my consent, look.” You put a thumbs up and grin toothily. “You can even bring me a notepad and i’ll sign the legal documents needed for you to sit your ass in that chair.”

If he knew you would be so needy, he wouldn’t have continued to offer you more wine after the third glass. Then again, it was nice to know that you trusted him enough to be around him in this state.

He sighs knowing he’s lost the fight. He won’t lay in bed with you, he’ll just sleep in his home office chair. Before he sits down, he turns you onto your side, and brings the trash can close to the edge of the bed incase you wake up in the middle of the night feeling sick.

“You gonna go to sleep now?” He asks, getting comfortable in the chair.

Your eyes roll as you fight off sleep, but eventually you stop trying to open your eyes. You nod once they finally close, and Levi watches you to make sure you’re asleep for good.

Levi didn’t go to sleep until almost four in the morning because you kept moving onto your back, and every time you did he had to put you back on your side again. You wiggled into a position where you laid flat on your stomach, and Levi decided that he preferred for you to vomit on the bed than to choke on your vomit in your sleep.

You both slept peacefully until seven in the morning, when the alcohol had finally begun to irritate the lining of you stomach. Your cheeks felt hot, and you felt uncomfortable in every position you laid in. You looked over at Levi who had fallen asleep with his cheek resting in his palm. The squish was adorable, but you couldn’t enjoy it due to the discomfort in your guts.

Your stomach gurgled and you decided to make a run for it, almost tripping over the bottom of your dress as you sprinted to the bathroom.

Levi’s eyes snapped open, and he sharply inhaled as he woke up from his light slumber. His head turned rapidly in search of you, and he quickly discovered where you were due to the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut.

“Shit,” he muttered in a gravelly voice. He quickly stands up and traces your steps to meet you behind the bathroom door. He leans against the door, hearing all the upchuck, gagging, and coughing coming from you on the other side. This goes on for a good four minutes. He hears the way you groan after you think you’re done, only for you to gag before spilling your guts into the toilet again.

You spit into the toilet one last time before flushing, whining when you nearly collapse as you attempt to get off the floor. You blow your nose, throwing the evidence away, and immediately go for some water from the sink. You rinse your mouth a few times before actually swallowing some water.

“Are you okay?” Levi asks, his knuckles lightly knocking.

You open the door, startling him a little with your appearance. The beautiful makeup that you stunted the night before was now an enormous mess on your eyelids, waterline, and cheeks. The residue of mascara on your eyelashes left fan shaped marks on the upper part of your cheeks.

“I’m disgusting. D-Don’t ever let me drink like that again,” your eyes gloss over with newly formed tears that eventually slide down your cheeks.

“You’re fine, sweetheart.” Despite the mess of makeup all over your face, and the wet spot of vomit on the front of your dress, Levi still manages to pull you into his embrace. You sob openly, mainly due to the embarrassment of Levi hearing you throw up in his bathroom, and the fact that you smell horrendous, yet Levi still holds you like it doesn’t matter.

“We’re gonna get you cleaned up. You’re gonna shower, and then we’re gonna get that messy makeup off your face.”

You pull away and look up at him, resembling a raccoon with all the dark makeup around your eyes.

“I don’t have clothes to change into,” you nearly start crying again, but Levi prevents it.

“I have clothes you can wear. Wait here.” He leaves you for a few seconds to bring essentials for you. A clean towel, a shirt, and some sweatpants. He also brought you a new bar of soap, assuming you might not want to use the one he’s been using.

“Shower, change, then call me when you’re done. I’ll be in the kitchen making your hangover cure.” He sets everything down on the counter, and leaves you to it.

The warm water feels nice cascading over you despite your body already being uncomfortably warm. You refused to take a cold shower, even if it was probably better for you. The smell of the soap was comforting and it didn’t make you nauseous as you lathered it onto your body. You used it generously—the thought of having puke on your dress earlier was even more repulsing now. You examined the bottle of shampoo sitting on the shower caddy and reached for it to wash your hair. You hope your hair turns out as soft as Levi’s on the first use.

You finished up in the bathroom and called Levi as told. He was quick to follow your voice. You stood at the entrance of the door, holding the door in one hand, the other holding onto the doorframe. You looked adorable in his clothes, even with the heavy traces of makeup under your eyes.

“Let me help you take the makeup off. Sit on the counter.” He opens the bottom cabinets, crouching down to get some wipes. “I know they’re not as good as the ones you probably have, but they’ll do the job.” He stands up again, closing the cabinets. You’re already sitting on the counter.

“I’m sorry…” you say almost inaudibly. You don’t want to cry again, but damn, you feel pathetic.

He’s listening, so he doesn’t say anything. He pulls a wipe from the pack, wrapping it around his index finger to be able to clean with more precision.

“You did nothing wrong. It’s fine. Now stay still.” He gets closer, the wet towel inching towards your face until the coldness touches you. He wipes gently to make sure your skin doesn’t get irritated.

“I’m never drinking again. I’m never leaving my house again,” you babble.

“You still have to go to work. Again, stop moving.” He folds the towel, covering the dark makeup residing on it. The darkness around your left eye had been completely removed.

The coldness touches your face again, this time beneath your right eye.

“I don’t deserve your friendship, Levi. I don’t know how I can still face you after what happened last night. Why are you even my friend?” Your head slumps as your pessimistic mind takes over.

He raises your head and holds the bottom of your face, your cheeks squished between his thumb and the rest of his fingers in a semi firm grip. He wipes at the splotchiness around your left eye, total concentration taking over because he’s trying to avoid your eyeball.

“I told you to stop moving, but you wouldn’t listen so this is what it had to come to.” His focus remains on your right eye as he speaks, collecting all the color onto the clean part of the wipe. “I want you to know that I invited you out because I wanted to. I knew there was a chance something like this would happen, but I still wanted you to be here.” He moves back a little to see if you had any stains from the makeup.

“You throwing up in my bathroom doesn’t change the meaningful conversations we had yesterday.” He releases the hold be has on your face and throws the wipe away once he’s all done. “I would go through all of this again if it meant you would keep hanging out with me.” His hands lay on the counter beside your legs.

“All done. You’re back,” he says looking into your tired eyes. You look back into his eyes, and they look just as tired, maybe even more. He looks handsome even with his disheveled appearance. His soft hair sticks out at random parts of his head, resembling the sun.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mumble, looking away.

“Like what?” His tone is soft, and it runs smoothly. He leans in a little, just enough to see the blush rising on your cheeks closely.

“Like that, so attentively with those eyes. You’re making me nervous.” You feel trapped by him. His hands have yet to move from their position beside you legs, and you feel the urge to move. You don’t want to accidentally brush your leg against his hand, it would make the situation awkward.

“It’s not my fault you can’t hold eye contact with me.” There’s a small grin on his lips. “Now, come on. Your hangover medicine is sitting on the table.” He backs up, allowing you to hop off the counter.

You follow him into the kitchen where you see the two unwashed glasses that held wine the night prior, in the sink.

“What a way to start off the morning, huh?” You joke, attempting to make small talk after what happened in the bathroom.

“I’ve seen worse.” He pours some tea into a mug and hands it off to you. “This stuff is way better than that premium crap at the shop.” He pours some for himself in another mug.

“But I don’t like tea. Do you have any coffee?” You take a whiff of the hot liquid in your cup. It smells good, and you decide you can’t knock it ‘til you try it.

“The tea is gonna help your headache, whether you like it or not. And no, I don’t have coffee.”

You take a sip, and scorch your tongue in the process. Your eyes water for a second, but now that you know how hot it is, you can take another sip knowing what to expect.

“It’s actually really good. Thank you, Levi.”

—

Levi took you home a few hours later when you felt better. You said you had things to do at your house, but in reality you just wanted to sleep in your own bed again. You wanted to feel comfortable with knocking things over, knowing they were yours.

Levi checked in every hour, and reminded you that if you needed anything he would get it for you. At some point in the afternoon, you knocked out and didn’t wake up until twelve in the morning. You checked the few messages that Levi left when you told him you were gonna take a nap, and then went right back to sleep.

—

You couldn’t stop thinking about your time with Levi as you made your way through the main entrance of your work building, carrying some folders in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. It’s seven in the morning. You need some form of caffeine pumping in your veins if you’re going to function even remotely.

You step into the elevator, back against the wall as you wait for the doors to close.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice says, breaking the silence you reserved. The doors shut a few seconds after he enters the elevator.

“Oh, good morning, Levi,” sleep treads lightly on your voice. You restrain from taking another sip of coffee on the elevator to avoid him smelling your coffee breath.

“Don’t tell me you just woke up.” The elevator dings as you reach your floor.

“Would that disappoint you?” You ask, a playful smile on your face.

“Very much.” He lets you step off first, following behind you.

“Well, that’s too bad. Not everyone can wake up at three in the morning every day like you.” You chuckle, waving as you head into your office.

He peeks his head into your office just to take the final word from you.

“For the record, it’s two thirty, not three in the morning,” he says in a jokingly matter-of-fact way, before walking to his office next door.

You giggle as you set your stuff down onto your desk. Your joyous energy leaves when you load up the work you have to do on your computer. There are so many reports that need to be filed by the end of the day, and you’re actually scared that you might have to take your break later in order to make a dent in the workload. You sigh, sitting down in your office chair. You realize there’s no point in just sitting there and sulking, so you roll closer to the desk and begin typing and clicking away.

At around twelve you get an email from Erwin, the department manager that says:

Hello _____,

Today I will have to leave work a little earlier than usual, as I am meeting my in-laws for lunch with my wife. They flew a couple thousand miles to meet with me and my wife today and I will not be able to finish the work I have pending for today.

Would you do me the biggest favor and finish whatever I don’t get to by the time I leave? It would mean a lot.

Thank you,

Erwin Smith

You shut your eyes tightly and think about how easy it would be to run out of the building and drive home, but instead of doing so, you reply to Erwin’s email.

Hi Erwin,

Hope all is well with your wife and the in-laws.

No worries, you can leave the remainder of your unfinished work to me and I will get it done. I will have to take a later lunch than usual because I have a lot of work to get done as well, but you can definitely count on me to finish the job.

Best of luck,

_______

You felt like bashing your head on the keyboard, but nonetheless, you continued to work through your weariness.

—

“Hey, by any chance are you taking your lunch anytime soon?” Levi asks, leaning on the doorframe of your office.

“Nope. I have so much work to do, it’s hilarious.” You don’t even take the time to turn and face him.

“You don’t seem to be laughing. Is there anything I can help you with?” He stands behind your chair, looking at all the reports you had to finish by the end of the day. “Hey, aren’t those Erwin’s reports? Why the hell are you doing his work again?” He moves over, standing next to you so he can see the screen more clearly.

“He has this lunch to go to with his wife and her parents. It’s not like I was gonna leave work early today, anyway.” Your typing was flawless, almost robotic. No typos or extra spaces, not a capital letter or punctuation mark out of place. “It’s fine, Levi. Are you going on your break?”

“I was going to, but you’re still working like a maniac. I’ll just wait for you.”

“No, it’s okay. Go take your break. You must be exhausted. I’ll buy you a cup of tea later if you go on your break now.” Your eyes scan the large lettering as you speak like your sentences have been pre-recorded so that you can say them while you work.

“Fine. I’ll take my break in here.” He sits in one of the extra chairs in your room.

“But Levi, I need to focus.”

“I won’t say a word to you. I’m just sitting here.”

You give in and let him stay while you work, and he stays true to his word. Not a word is said during his break, but you can feel him staring at you, and it makes doing your work just a little harder. You make more mistakes in your typing, and you can hear him ‘tch’ every time he hears you tap the backspace key repeatedly.

When his break is up, he puts a hand on your head before he goes back to his office. The endearing gesture made surprise goosebumps rise on your arms.

—

You finished all the work you had to do in record time. Erwin’s work was your top priority so you finished it first, then you finished your work. You didn’t get to take a break, but you did get some overtime in. Hopefully, Erwin is okay with it.

You turn off the computer and grab all your possessions before leaving the office for the day. Levi is waiting for you around the corner.

“All done?” He asks when you shut the door to your office.

“Yeah. I’m tired as fuck.” You chuckle at his wide-eyed expression. “Sorry. I’m really tired is what I meant to say.”

“We’re both adults. You can mean what you say.” He offered to carry your bag as well as your folders, and you let him. “What do you need, right now?” He asks as you walk side by side to the elevator.

“Rest,” you reply instantly.

“Okay, let’s get you home.”

“Let’s?” You question.

“I’ll drive you home, and once you wake up i’ll drive you back here so you can get your car.”

“That’s not necessary. You really don’t have to, Levi,” you insist. You enter the elevator and Levi follows after you.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I really appreciate you. Thank you for your kindness.”

—

He brought you home, and you invited him in because you thought it was the polite thing to do after everything he’s done for you.

“You’re welcome to anything that’s in the cabinets or the fridge, or just take anything you like.”

Levi was in awe at how organized your cabinets were. The truth was that you had organized them the day before, before you went to sleep, because when you laid down to sleep, the guilt of lying to Levi was eating you alive. You told him you had things to do at your house, and yet you were just about ready to knock out on your bed.

“I’m okay, but thank you.” He goes back into the living room with you.

“Come hang out with me in my room?”

He looked like you asked him to steal the Mona Lisa—confused, conflicted, unsure if he would go that far even if you were the one asking.

“Okay,” he finally says a few seconds later.

He follows your lead as you direct yourself towards your room. As soon as you are within reach of your bed, you toss yourself on it, spreading your limbs like a starfish.

“You’re welcome to join me,” your words are muffled by the pillows.

“I don’t think there’s any room there for me,” he mumbles as he searches for a small area to sit, where he won’t interrupt your starfish pose.

“Sorry, let me just…” you reposition yourself. You’re now on your side, curled up. “You can lay there.” You point to space next to you.

Levi lays down on his side, facing you. He doesn’t know if this is overstepping boundaries with you, but it feels nice.

“I’m sorry I don’t have an extra room like you do.”

His eyebrows furrow, displeased with your apology.

“Don’t apologize for something so unimportant.”

“Are you uncomfortable? I can sit on a chair if you want-“

His hand lands on your shoulder, immediately silencing you.

“I’m fine. You don’t have to go anywhere. Let’s just lay here together.”

You blushed furiously at how romantic the words sounded. If you were smarter you wouldn’t have gone for the kiss and your relationship would have kept its romantic and sexual tension, but you couldn’t take it anymore. You, the one who avoided love at all costs, were the first to admit you wanted to love Levi.

His heart raced as if he ran every day of his life, just to meet you here, in this moment. He pulled you onto his lap, your position exactly like the night he invited you over, only this time you were in total control of your actions.

His hand on your hip, his fingers threaded in your hair—it was the proof that let you know he wanted this just as much as you. It may have been wrong to just spring this on him, but if it wasn’t a moment for now, then it would be a moment for later, which sounded like forever in your mind.

You pull away to see the reaction behind all of this. His heart is uncontrollable. He can’t calm it down, and he can barely hear his own thoughts with the way his heart beats in his ears.

“That’s how I feel. How do you feel?” You ask, staring into the storm residing in his grey eyes.

He leans forward to reach your lips, luring you back to him. His hands now hold your waist, occasionally squeezing to ground him when his soul threatens to vanish from being there with you. His lips chase yours endlessly, and you hate remembering that you need to breathe in order to stay alive, because you love the intimacy of kissing. It gives you uncontrollable butterflies that you refuse to tame because you continue to do the thing that sets them free.

This time he releases you, taking in the dazed expression on your face.

“That’s how I feel.”

You both stare at each other like a new world has been introduced, and you’re waiting for each other’s approval to go in together.

“I want you, Levi. Make me yours.” It’s your sugarcoated, romanticized way of saying ‘claim me because I don’t want anyone else to do it’.

“You want me to…” his ears go red. He’s scared to assume you want him sexually, so he waits for you to specify.

“Make love to me?” You say in the form of a question. You cringe internally, but you think it matches the moment better than saying ‘fuck me’.

“M-Make love to you?” He repeats, flustered by the request.

“Please,” you say with false confidence. You can tell he’s nervous, and you know you’re nervous, so you have to show him as much fake confidence as you can muster if you want to progress with him.

“Let’s take it slow. Nobody is leading, and we’re gonna roll with however things go.” You put your hand on his shoulder, an attempt to calm him. “Does that sound okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees.

“O-Okay?” Your veil of confidence collapses after your last statement, and you go back to being putty in Levi’s hold when he pulls you down onto the bed with him. There’s no way he’ll abide to your ‘nobody is leading’ statement. He’s a natural leader, and regardless of how nervous he is, he will take total responsibility for the way he makes you feel.

You still jump a little when his hands meet the warm skin of your cheeks and stay there, but nonetheless, you like it. The touch feels familiar even if he’s never touched you like this before.

He takes his hands off your face and begins unbuttoning his shirt. Little by little, you begin to see pale patches of skin from his chest and stomach. You nearly panic when the whole shirt comes off, and reveals toned parts of his torso. You strongly believe he was sculpted by some artistically driven gods.

You’re wonderstruck, and even if he doesn’t know it, he’s ruined men for you in a way only you can understand.

“I’m not that striking,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks. You can now see that the color doesn’t start on his cheeks, but on his chest.

“I don’t even know what to say.” You’re smitten, and it was over for you the second his lips merged with yours. You played yourself by starting this, but there’s no way in hell you’ll go back to depriving yourself of him.

“Then don’t say anything.” He goes down to meet your lips again, his body feeling hot when you reach up to touch him. Physical affection is rare for Levi, and nobody has touched him like this in a long time, so deep down he’s really happy you’re the one he’s sharing a bed with. You don’t feel obligated to shed layers of clothing for him. He’s content with just having you, and though he would never admit it, knowing you had no words to describe the sight of him without a shirt was a major boost to his self confidence.

You reach down to untuck your shirt from your pants and begin unbuttoning it. Levi only noticed this because your hands weren’t running all over his body anymore, and he wanted you to keep touching him.

He almost chokes on his spit once your shirt is open, the loose halves laying next to each corresponding side of you. You picked the perfect day to match your lingerie. You donned a lacy black bra with panties that Levi had yet to see.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, scanning every inch of you that is now revealed.

“You think so?” Your cheeks glow like you’re surrounded by Christmas lights.

“I do,” the last words he says before he snatches your lips up again. Strands of his hair brush your face, tickling your nose and cheeks. You don’t think there should be a time limit for how long a make out session goes on for. It gives you an otherworldly feeling when Levi’s lips lock with yours. To say it’s electrifying would be a dulled down version of what you really feel.

The pace picks up suddenly, and your heart drops to your stomach. His hands hold your waist firmly, and your lips struggle to keep up with his. You don’t think you’re imagining the panting sounds coming from him as he kisses you with a fervor that can’t be pacified.

“Mmm…fuck,” he almost growls. “How are you able to make me feel this way?” He looks drunk on your affection.

You had an effect on him. The sweet, composed, professional Levi you knew as your best friend, was now bound to you.

He presses his nose to the column of your throat where he leaves so many kisses. His mouth ghosts over your chest, an occasional brush of his lips to your skin as he lowers down to your stomach. It’s such an intimate gesture filled with sincerity that does nothing but intensify the thrashing in your chest.

His hands wander, bringing goosebumps wherever they move. You see the way he looks at you—like he would devour you if this weren’t the first time he was bedding you. His eyes are so cold you think your gaze is frozen to his.

“Should I keep going?” His indirect way of asking for your consent again, even if you were the one who asked for this. You take the hint when you feel him tugging lightly at your pants. You respond by unbuttoning your trousers, shimmying them down your hips. He helps you get them completely off when they reach your thighs.

The black on black bra and panties combination… Something flipped in his head because for a few seconds his eyes just flicked up and down between the two areas. To capture this untainted sight of you for a few more seconds was all he wanted, because he knew that you wouldn’t look like this again for the rest of the night.

His hands roam around your body—running over your waist, then trailing down to your hips, which leads to them slithering down your thighs.

“Is that…” he points at the gusset of your panties, a darker spot contrasting the rest of the garment. It’s only noticeable because he’s so close. “Is that what I think it is?”

“U-Um…” you divert your attention from him. Your cheeks feel hot again.

“You’re so excited, yet we haven’t even done that much.” His hands splay on your thighs, spreading your legs as wide as you can comfortably have them. “Now I know what kissing does to you,” he says as he proceeds to kiss your inner thighs.

You inhale sharply, your stomach quivering a little.

“May I?” His hand nears your clothed cunt, centimeters away from the wet spot.

“Okay,” you simply say. Any more words and you’ll stutter up a storm.

Your heart might leap out of your chest with that gaze of his. His pupils are enormous, the lust almost blocking all the color in his eyes.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take it slow. I want to make you come once through your panties, and another time without them.”

Come? Panties? Another time without panties? It’s so strange hearing these words from someone who’s been just a friend for years. It’s strange hearing the words from Levi in general.

“O-Okay,” you stutter this time.

“Good.” His fingers finally make contact with the fabric of your panties, a circular motion stimulating your cunt. He can feel the wetness of your slick on his fingertips, the amount increasing with each pressurized rub.

Your arm comes up to cover your eyes, embarrassment flooding through you as Levi spectates you.

“Let me see your pretty face, please.” His voice is so commanding, you don’t think you can deny him of the things he asks of you.

Your forearm shakily raises off of your face, dropping down onto the mattress. He can now see the effectiveness of his fingers, on your expression. Your mouth is slightly open, your eyes begging for more from him. The whole thing makes the hardness in his pants twitch.

“Is this what you wanted?” He teases, knowing your words won’t beat the moans leaving your mouth.

“Mhm,” you whimper. “Please…please.”

“Didn’t think I would have you begging so fast.” He leans forward a little to whisper the second part in your ear. “That’s good, sweetheart. Keep doing it.”

You nearly lost it when he kissed the area below your ear right after.

“Levi… Levi, more please.” You can’t stand that look on his face as he continues to torture you. His teeth occasionally sink into his bottom lip. There’s so much lust behind the expression, that you’re actually nervous for what will happen to you after he makes you come the first time.

Your moans become more frequent, and you can feel that familiar heat in your core. You don’t remember ever touching yourself in a manner that made you feel this way, and he isn’t even touching your bare cunt.

“Oh, already?” He goes down your body, stopping at the elastic band of your panties and scattering kisses on the skin above it.

“Fucking—oh god—Levi,” you say, breathlessly. Your hands go to the back of his head and you tug his hair with unmeasured strength. He can handle the discomfort for as long as you provide it, and he won’t complain about something that makes his cock twitch. Your thighs shut around his hand, and you grind your cunt against it. It’s humiliating when he raises his gaze to watch you as you take control of your pleasure. At this point, you’re doing most of the movement, rolling your hips against the cupped form of his fingers.

“There you go,” he murmurs. He loves watching the way your chest heaves and hearing the cries of his name. The racing of your heartbeat is indomitable, you swear Levi can hear it over your breathing.

After a few minutes of catching your breath, you look down at Levi who’s mesmerized by the dazed look you give him.

“That was taking it slow?”

“Mhm. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” His hand brushes your thigh in a comforting manner. It triggers goosebumps in the area which brings a sly grin to his face.

“Excuse me? Your pants have a little something on them. Now let’s talk sensitivity.” You raise your arms, stretching your taut muscles, a strained groan leaving you as your muscles were freed of their tension.

You didn’t catch the way his eyes sparkled when you bit back, but in that moment, he knew you could handle his snarky remarks at all times and put him in his place when necessary. That was definitely a turn on.

“Please tell me you’re ready to go again.”

You laugh through your nose.

“You want me?” You tease. A gear rotated in your head, and you suddenly remembered something from the night he cooked for you.

“Yes. So badly,” he says.

There’s a wicked grin on your face. You sit up, leveling yourself on the bed with him.

“How about you show me that patience of yours I was promised.”

His head visibly tilted in confusion. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen him do.

“Let’s switch positions. Lay here where I am, and i’ll take your spot.”

“Okay,” he says, seemingly understanding so far what you said. He crawls over to where you sat and lays down, and you sit in the spot he previously sat in.

“Care to explain what’s about to happen?” His head rests on his folded arms.

The act is so sudden, so quick that his arms fly out from underneath his head to hold onto your hips. You straddle his hips, your legs on either side.

“Uh… u-um… what are you doing?” He swallowed thickly, trying not to let the brush of your cunt against his crotch unravel him.

“I think you deserve be taken care of, too, Levi.” You unclip your bra, sliding the straps off your arms before throwing it to a corner in your room. Your breasts are definitely a sight for him, a sight he isn’t sure he can look at without your permission, so he holds eye contact with you.

You lean forward, covering his chest with kisses. You can see the way the area turns red upon contact with your lips, like your touch sets him on fire. Your lips maneuver around his upper body, trailing up from his chest to his neck and the curvature of his jawline. He almost freezes when he feels your breasts against his chest. You cup his cheeks, looking into his enamored eyes before kissing his lips.

“Do you think you can handle what i’m about to do?” You press your forehead to his, looking into those fascinating eyes of his.

“I think so.” His hands ride up and down your sides, nearly touching the sides of your breasts.

“Good boy.”

His brain felt fuzzy when you said the words. It’s something he’s never experienced before when hearing them. You seemed to have reinvented the meaning behind the words when you used them in this scenario.

There you went again, going down his body, kissing everywhere you could. You discovered areas where he was sensitive, such as his ribs and the area beneath his navel. He gasped or shuddered every time you licked or sucked the skin in those areas.

“May I?” You ask, hooking a finger around one of his belt loops.

“Do whatever you want to me.” His hands go down to assist you in unbuttoning his pants, lifting his hips just enough to lower them until you could pull them off. He sported some dark blue boxer briefs, his erect cock forming a very noticeable tent. You now saw the large spot of pre-cum that had ruined his pants, on the blue garment.

Your hand wraps around the silhouette of his cock, the wet fabric wrinkling as your hand moves up and down. You see the vein in his neck pop out and the way his stomach tenses. You don’t need vocal proof of the way he feels because you can see it, but he still gives it to you anyway, and it just brings that much more excitement to you.

His breath is shaky as you rub his tip with your thumb, the fabric of his undergarment absorbing every drop of his pre-cum.

“You’re really pretty, Levi. I know that probably doesn’t say much for you, but i’m looking at you right now, and…” you sigh, completely astonished by him. To see someone like Levi with his walls completely torn down was beautiful. He’s tough. Not with you, obviously, but things don’t get to him so easily. To think that you were able to get him in a vulnerable position like this… He must really like you.

“You know, I really like you,” your hand speeds up a little. “I’m gonna be honest with you…I lived an enormous lie for what felt like an eternity. I tried to see you as a friend for so long. So long. But, sir, you made it impossible, because you never treated me like a friend.”

He shudders, his cock twitching beneath your grasp. You lean down to kiss his clothed tip. His mouth gapes slightly, his eyebrows creasing the slightest bit when it slowly disappears into your mouth.

“F-Fuck. You’re kidding,” he mutters under his breath. Your eyes look wild. It seems like you’ll have to hold onto his soul for a few minutes, because he’s floating.

The shape of his tip is completely outlined now, your saliva darkening the fabric of his briefs. Even the slightest brush of your fingers against his length has him shaking.

“Give it to me, baby. You’ve got it,” you say, encouraging him to let loose. Your hand speeds up a little more, and before you know it, Levi lets out a whimper and some grunts as he leaves yet another damp spot on his briefs.

“F-Fuck—a-ah—oh my…” he sits up halfway before you push him back down. His eyes shut tightly and you can see the protruding shape of his ribs with every breath of his as you continue to jerk him into overstimulation.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmur, your hand stopping when you see him writhing.

You giggle, watching as he catches his breath.

“Was that okay? I know it would have been better if I had actually touched…it. I just wanted to do something similar to what you did.”

“Don’t worry,” he sighs heavily. “It was perfect.”

You blush, watching as he fulfills his task of fully sitting up. You can clearly see the layer of sweat on his skin now. It gives him an ethereal-like glow.

“Are we gonna actually, you know… today?” You ask when he doesn’t say anything. He just looked into your eyes for a few seconds.

“I’ll do anything you want me to do. Do you want to?”

It feels wrong to want more, but you do want more of him. You want to feel him close to you. Right up against you, meshing into your skin, or just pressed against you as close as possible.

“I want you so fucking badly,” you chuckle. It’s almost pathetic how much you want him.

He tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, softening the intensity of your gaze on him.

“You can have me, just sit on my lap.” His eyes look down at your breasts, watching the way they move when you breathe. You smile, holding in a laugh when he looks back at you with a flustered expression. “You can hold them if you want,” you position yourself between his legs, your back to his chest. “None of this…” you grab ahold of his hands and drag them down your body. “…is off limits. Touch as you please.”

He hums, content with having you so near. You release his hands, allowing them to roam freely. The first thing he does is roll the elastic band of your panties down. You lift yourself a little, allowing him to roll the garment below your thighs. You kick them off your legs, and wait for Levi to finish getting his briefs off. You turn around, immediately looking down. A quiet gasp escapes you before you quickly face straight ahead again. He’s big.

“Say the word, and we can get started,” He mumbles into your shoulder. One of his hands reaches for your breast, the other slides down to your cunt. He toys with your clit, rubbing it just the slightest bit with his middle finger. He lures a breathy moan out of you, your decision being made quickly after.

“O-Okay, okay,” you breathe.

“Ready now?” His voice goes deeper, making goosebumps rise on your skin.

“Mhm,” you hum, rising up just the slightest to settle onto his lap.

“Easy,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist. “W-Wait. Not so fast,” he groans, as his tip nudges through your folds, the cockhead sliding into your messy hole while you sink down as slowly as you can.

Your moans are synchronized once he’s in all the way. You can feel his warmth inside you, twitching, even with your idleness. He lays his forehead on your upper back, soft wisps of his hair tickling your skin. Soft, warm breaths make their way onto the tippy top of your spine.

“F-Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You lean back against him, your head on his shoulder. Your eyes shut tightly, your mouth gaped open once he starts moving beneath you.

“W-We’re friends, right?” You have an obvious amount of difficulty keeping your voice steady. Gasps, and random pauses litter your sentences every time Levi pushes in and out of you. His hands were cupped around your breasts, your nipples wedged between his index and middle fingers. Your heart dropped every time you remembered that he bought you coffee as a friend two days ago, and now he’s taking charge of you in your own bed.

“Sure. What’s on y-your—hah—your m-mind?” His lips attach to your shoulder, sucking an intense mark onto the clear patch of skin, like he’s trying to draw blood. You wince, your back arching a little.

“This is the only way you’ll picture me after today, isn’t it?” Your eyes roll as his lips brush over your shoulders and nape for areas to leave more marks on. You hear the quick breaths that leave his nose and the sound of his lips slipping against your bruised skin. It’s a good way of not answering the question that’s eating away at you.

“Would that be okay with you?” He finally whispers into your ear, a slight rasp in his voice.

“Oh, fucking hell, Levi,” your hands find his thighs, your nails sinking into the pale skin, leaving red lines as you draw your fingers in close like you’re fisting sheets. “I—mm…You— Fuck!” You cry out impatiently, unable to form a proper thought, completely flustered due to how fucking attractive that simple gesture was.

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest. It’s like he’s taunting you.

“I’ve pictured you in so many different ways. This is definitely one of them, but not the only one,” he clarifies. A sweet kiss is pressed into the side of your neck. “You don’t have to worry about that ever. Understand?”

“Mhm…” you hum, lost in the way his cock prods so deeply inside you.

“Use your words, sweetheart. I don’t know what that response means,” he teases. One of his hands releases your breast, dropping down to play with your clit. You nearly fold in pleasure, leaning forward the smallest amount before Levi’s arm drapes over your chest, pinning your back to his chest. “I need you here with me. Now give me your words,” his finger rubs the tiny bud lightly, just enough to make you writhe in his lap from the pleasure.

“I—fuck—I understand, Levi. I understand,” you cry out, your eyes tearing up due to the way he holds you so close the edge. It’s not enough pressure, and he knows it, but he likes the tone in your voice, and he wants to hear it for just a tad bit longer.

“Do you now?” He hums, followed by a breathy ‘ah’.

“I do,” tears nearly flow out of your eyes. “Please, Levi. Need more of you,” you plead.

His pace doesn’t speed up, but his thrusts are stronger now. Your pussy flutters around him, the intensity of your arousal almost completely unbearable. His finger brushes your clit in a tedious manner. It has you trembling on top of him.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. The clenching of your pussy has his cock in such a tight hold—so snug inside your velvety walls. You breathe heavily, unable to stay still on his lap anymore. You’re now chasing his thrusts, meeting them halfway to strengthen the pleasure derived from Levi.

“Fuck! Please, please, please! Please, Levi!” You gasp, heaving every time you inhale. The knot inside you is on the brink of snapping in one of the most concentrated ways you’ve ever felt. Levi was close, too. His cock pulsated with every one of his thrusts, and every time your pussy clenched, it just inched him closer to his end.

He succumbed to your cries of his name, your trembling form now shaking in rhythm with his powerful thrusts.

Choked sounds, breathy mutterings of each others names, whimpers, and cries of passion filled the room.

“Levi! Oh god, oh fuck!” The final words leave you before an overwhelming tidal wave of pleasure consumes your whole self. You’ve never felt pleasure from suffocation, but Levi was almost inhaling you from how close he was, and you didn’t want him to back off. His arms held your writhing, trembling frame tightly against him, while he whispered things into your ear.

His hips continued to roll just a little slower, just enough to bring him right to the edge. Drool coated your lips, threatening to slide down your chin. You could feel almost every part of him on you—his arms, his legs, his chest, his abs, his lips. Being trapped by him was endearing.

“Fuck… keep doing that. D-Do that again, please,” he moans, breathing against the shell of your ear. You clenched around him again, and audibly heard him go weak. His shuddered breaths and strangled groans were the sexiest things you had ever heard. He painted your walls white, the feeling so immense that he clawed at your chest, leaving red streaks on the clean area of your chest. He whimpered out so many sorry’s, not stopping the roll of his hips until the overstimulation was too much.

You stayed in that position for a while once he came down from his high. He held you tightly, his head laying on your back. His warm cheek rested on your spine as he looked at the closed door of your bedroom. The long silence was broken by the sound of you sighing.

“We’re friends, right?” You ask the same question from earlier. Maybe his answer will be different now that he’s not as distracted.

He did take a little longer to answer than before. “We’re not like them,” he finally mumbles against your skin.

“Like who?” You question.

“Like those stupid people that do the whole friends with benefits bit. Tell me we aren’t them.” His postures straightens, and he pulls you close again, not holding you too tight, just allowing you to lay on his chest.

“We’re not them. This was… a one time thing. Right?”

“I don’t like that.” He moves the hair away from your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

Your eyes flutter shut, and a lazy grin appears on your lips.

“Let’s talk about this some other time. For now, we’re friends.” You break free of his hold and get off of him. You search for your clothes scattered across your room.

“I should probably get going. I really need to shower.” He picks his clothes off of the edge of the bed, putting everything back on.

“If only I had clothes you could wear. I would’ve loved to have you over for the night,” you say, feeling guilty once again for not being as hospitable as Levi. “I’m sor—”

“Don’t do that. Don’t apologize for dumb things like clothes, or the amount of rooms in your house.” He sits on the edge of the bed, slipping back into his trousers. “There’s always next time.”

‘This is a one time thing.’ Yeah, right.

“Well…” he exhales, running a hand through his damp, disheveled hair. “I’m gonna go. Thanks for…”

You suck in your lips, suppressing laughter at his inability to say what you both just did.

“Thanks for having me,” he finally manages to utter.

You simply nod in acknowledgment, a smile gracing your features.

“Get home safe, Levi.”

“I’ll call you.”

And call you he did. The phone call could’ve been shorter. A simple ‘I’m home. I’ll see you at work,’ would have sufficed, but it’s like he needed to have some sort of connection to you. He spent a good portion of the phone call asking about how you were feeling physically. He didn’t go any deeper than that, not wanting to put any pressure on whatever you and him were.

He did something spontaneous and didn’t know how to react as soon as it happened, so he hung up immediately. He said ‘Goodnight. Love you,’ the last two words so quiet that you didn’t even hear them through the thin layer of static on the line. And that’s why you were so confused when the dial tone sounded in your ear. You thought the call ended due to bad reception, and expected him to call back, but he didn’t.

—

The next day was no different from any other day. Levi greeted you on the elevator, and acted as he usually did. There was nothing strange in your relationship according to the way he acted, or the way he talked to you. It was like the day before never happened.

“See you at lunchtime?” He says, stopping at the entrance to your office.

“Sure,” you say, unpacking your things. “I’ll have time for you today.”

“Good. See you then.” He turns and leaves your sight, heading into his own office.

You power through your work, making as much time as you can for Levi. He never left your mind as you read all those emails mindlessly. You were a zombie, the feeling of his hands roaming your body was engraved into your memory. It made you zone out a lot, the memory rolling in your mind so vividly because it was literally yesterday.

Your heart begins to race, at the sound of him calling your name. So desperate and needy, so unlike the Levi you knew before.

“Hello? Are you there?” Levi says, tapping your shoulder. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Huh? Oh, Levi. What are you doing here?” You check the time on the corner of your computer screen. “Shit, it’s already two thirty.”

“Right. Lunchtime,” he says, focused on your blank expression.

“Okay, yeah. What do you want to do?”

Not much besides kiss you, hold you, and more.

“Are you hungry?” He sits in the chair behind you, folding his hands on the table.

“Not really. Are you?” You rotate your chair to face him. Those eyes are intimidating every time you look at them, now. His gaze feels more intimate.

“Not at all.”

“Any other suggestions?”

He swallows every ounce of fear he feels, and prepares himself mentally for how this conversation could end. He could lose you or he could gain more than just your friendship. He can’t gauge which direction he’s leaning towards because you’re both actively ignoring the things that occurred. The things that friends don’t do.

“Let’s talk.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach, your nerves on edge. You wanted this conversation to happen, and now that it’s happening, you want nothing more than to be swallowed by a black hole.

“Okay,” you respond, your hands awkwardly splaying on your thighs.

“Did we overstep any boundaries yesterday?”

You look to your left, the door wide open for your coworkers to see and hear your private conversation. You give Levi one more chance. Maybe he won’t go into detail.

“I didn’t think we would actually act on the sexual tension—”

“Okay, hold on.” You stand up and head towards the door, pushing it shut, and shutting the blinds. “We don’t need any more workplace drama. This is between just you and me,” you say, sighing as you sit down again.

“We’re friends is what you’ve been telling me, and i’m completely fine with that.” The truth hides behind those flimsy words. He would rather destroy his favorite teacup and throw away his entire cabinet of expensive tea than fully accept that you’ll never be more than a friend. “But how will we prevent this from happening again?”

“Easy,” you reply. “It won’t happen again. We hang out at work, and only hang out outside of work when there are others around.”

“That’s an immature way to fix our situation.” He wants all the time with you. No division with others. “We can control ourselves. We don’t need people around to prove that. That’s just…absurd.”

“It’s the best solution. We won’t be tempted to do anything we shouldn’t do. There won’t be any tension. It’ll all work out fine.” You look down at his hands, his knuckles are nearly white.

He chuckles. “God, there is so much tension between us. You can cut it with a fucking knife.”

“I don’t feel it,” you say, averting your gaze immediately.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He grabs onto the seat of your chair, rolling you closer to him. He decides you’re close enough when your knees are brushing his, a nudge with enough force would send his knee between your thighs and vice-versa.

“What are you doing, Levi?” You question, a perplexed look on your face.

“I’m only asking you to do one thing and it’s really simple.”

He leans in, little by little, not close enough to kiss you, but enough to make your heart race when he doesn’t stop until you can see his slate colored eyes up close.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

You do as told, and look straight into his eyes. The intensity makes your head spin. You feel so vulnerable and submissive. You look away for a second, and he clicks his tongue.

“Don’t look away from me,” he instructs. His eyes don’t waver at all. They keep their intensity, and look at you dead on. You’re pretty sure he can hear your heartbeat.

After a minute of silence and staring into his eyes, you made a decision. You didn’t think at all about what you were fighting for and went with what your heart longed for. You cupped his cheeks and crashed your lips onto his. They were as amazing as you remembered, even so, imperfect. It felt right, holding him like that. Your breathing was synchronized, the heavy pants coming from both of you bringing some color to your face.

You pull away looking into his eyes again. There was a major difference. His pupils were huge, and there was a tenderness to his expression. He’s so weak for you.

“Fuck,” he curses. He swipes his bottom lip a few times with his index finger.

“What was the point of that?” Your voice is filled with disappointment.

“It was a test. You failed horrendously.”

“You did that on purpose, Levi. You’re being unfair.” Your eyebrows crease with frustration. “You knew you would get me like that.”

“I thought you were more self-disciplined,” he teases.

“You kissed me back. You should have had the willpower to push me away,” your arms cross in annoyance.

“I didn’t want to.”

You sigh, trying so hard to be mad, but in all your faux anger, you crack a smile that eventually evolves into a giggle.

“We’re so bad at this.” You think quickly, trying to figure out what to say after. “I think the only way to fix something like this is for us to stay apart for a while,” is the only thing that came to mind. You really didn’t think before you spoke, and you didn’t mean it.

His entire demeanor changed. This was the worst idea you had ever come up with, and all he could do was hope you would take it back.

“What do you mean?” He asks, secretly buying time for you to change your mind.

“We can’t be friends right now. It’s not working out like it should.”

“No. We don’t need that. All that would do is make an awkward gap in our friendship. We’re fine, we can handle this like adults.”

You stand up in your chair. “Adults who are old enough to passionately fuck, and kiss, and look at each other with longing stares. Adults can handle things recklessly, too, you know.”

“Where are you going?” He watches you grab your coat, in search of your car keys. You find them, the jingling making them easier to locate when you patted your coat pocket.

“Out,” you respond, pushing your chair under your desk.

“Okay. I’ll be in my office.” He pushes his chair in, following you out the door. You can feel the shift in his mood based on the way he avoids looking at you.

You shut your eyes tightly for a second, silently cursing yourself for having a heart. You pull on the back of his collar, bringing him to a halt. He turns around to face you.

“Fucking hell, let’s go on a date, Levi.”

“What are you saying?” He says, looking around the office to see if anyone heard your announcement. “You’re giving me whiplash with your indecisiveness.”

“It’s now or never.” The ultimatum is weightless— it means nothing because you will forever hold a spot in your heart for Levi.

“Okay.” It was the simplest way to accept your proposal. If you had more time, he would’ve stuttered for you, but you were both on your lunch break.

You both walk to the elevator, hands next to each other, trying not to link. It was like a staticky zap every time you accidentally brushed fingers. Your hands quickly moved away from each other every time it happened. Once the doors shut, Levi pinned you to the back wall of the elevator, and kissed you with so much ardor that you could feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks. You went through that first date with him, nervous throughout the entire thing, but nothing made electricity course through you like that thirty second elevator ride.

[vinvantae]

Baby Steps

5/26

<<< Previous Part

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Explicit Language, alcohol and mentions of sex

**************************************************

Thankfully, Daniel seemed to ignore your little outburst in the garage earlier and you were grateful for that. You weren’t sure if he asked someone to explain it to him but he hadn’t even mentioned it - gone straight into qualifying mode. You’d decided to leave Milo with the sitter during the weekend, mostly because you wanted to focus but also because you were worried he’d ask Dan to get in the car; you had to explain to him that cars were only for adults and Daniel was only being silly when he’d asked.

You looked back over your shoulder from the pitwall as Daniel climbed into the McLaren, he gave you a small wave before disappearing into the cockpit. After coming 3rd in the championship last season - your team had clearly shown the driver you were a team worth driving for, so you really hoped the car would perform well enough.

“Okay. Let’s get some good times, don’t worry about the tires - just give it all you’ve got.” You explained over the radio.

“I’m a pro, I’ve got this… sit back and relax, Sheila.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you turned your attention to the data on the screen in front of you. Daniel was right, he knew exactly what he was doing - all you had to do was give him the data he needed to perform. You cursed under your breath quietly as a Ferrari and Alfa tauri did an absolutely stellar lap, you expected Redbull and Mercedes to do a good lap but where did that pace come from.

“C’mon Daniel…” You mumbled quietly, tapping your foot against the bar under your chair. “We need a top 10 start to the season.”

If you could’ve crossed all of your fingers and toes for Daniel to get a good time, you would have. As the papaya car came charging at the finish line, the team cheered - 6th for Daniel, 7th for Lando. Not perfect but a decent start to the season.

“That’s P6 Daniel, good job.”

“Didn’t quite have the pace I wanted in that middle sector but we’ll get there. Good job team.”

You knew the Australian needed to get used to driving the car; he was the captain of the late braking club and both he and the team would have to make adjustments to make the car work out. You and your fellow pitwall sitters crossed over to the garage after qualifying finished - you made sure to congratulate Lando as you walked past.

“Not a bad start to the season, right boss?” You asked Andreas, earning a kind smile in return.

“I wasn’t expecting that kind of pace from an Alfa tauri, that Pierre really is something. But I am happy. Let’s just hope they can keep it up in the race tomorrow.”

“A points start is exactly what we need!” Zak interrupted, clapping you on the shoulder - making you jump a little. “But first, how about that dinner?”

You smiled and gave him a firm nod. “Smart casual, remember. So don’t be outdoing us all with that killer wardrobe I know you have, boss.”

The American’s laugh boomed through the garage, drawing the attention of your fellow teammates including the drivers. Daniel smiled when he saw the awkward look on your face; he’d been on the receiving end of Zak’s sense of humour before so he wasn’t surprised that you’d got him howling. The Australian swerved through the garage to get to you, nudging you slightly to let you know he was now beside you - making you look at him, a much more relaxed look now on your face.

“I’m starving. Can’t wait for dinner, I’ve been a good boy all week with my meals so I can pig out tonight.”

You couldn’t help but giggle when Dan oinked like a pig. “It’ll be good, I’m sure. Gonna crack out one of your famous party shirts?”

“Oh you know it.” He grinned. “You’ll love it.”

He was right. As he waltzed into the restaurant, it was like you were seeing him in a whole new light. It was so ridiculous, pastel pink with palm trees printed on it, but on him? The way it skimmed his broad shoulders and down to his narrow waist… how did you not realise how attractive he was before? You weren’t blind, you always knew but this was different.

The Australian pushed his sunglasses into his curls and approached you. “Good evening. You look lovely.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You hummed, looking at him over the rim of your wine glass as you took a sip - not daring to be the one who broke eye contact first.

Something had changed in you, and he could sense it. The driver didn’t know how many drinks you’d had before he’d arrived but there was a gorgeous confidence. “Thank you. Are we waiting on anyone?”

“Just Lando, he’s picking up Luisa from the airport first. Drink? It’s on Zak.” You chuckled softly.

“What’s the most expensive thing on the menu?” He peered over your shoulder at the menu that was laid on the bar. “Think I’ll just have a glass of red, to be honest.”

You turned to order yourself another glass and Daniel his drink too; your cheeks flushed a soft pink when his hand ghosted the small of your back for a moment. He wanted to learn more about you, but as the fates would have it - everyone’s attention was stolen when Lando strolled in. The host led you all over to a group of large tables in the centre of the restaurant, you were the only patrons tonight and it was a good thing - there were so many of you.

“Lando.” Daniel whispered, getting his teammate’s attention. “You gotta make sure I’m sitting next to y/n.”

The young Brit’s mouth curved into a mischievous smirk. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, immediately regretting it when Lando cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled across the restaurant to you, where you were standing with William. “AYE! Y/N, C’MERE?”

You excused yourself from your conversation with William and walked over to the drivers. A concerned frown on your face. “Everything okay, Lando?”

“Wanna sit with us?” The Brit said, eyes flickering briefly to his teammate and Dan let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, glad that Lando hadn't completely thrown him under the bus.

“I’d like that.” You smiled, eyes moving over to Dan. “Shall we then?”

Dan pulled out a chair for you before the four of you sat down - you between the two drivers. You were on the largest table with Zak, Andreas and several other of the top engineers and Dan was eager to keep your attention on him for as long as possible and he knew just the topic to do it.

“So, tell me about Milo.”

The way your eyes lit up was truly beautiful, he could truly tell that Milo was your world. “Oh he’s amazing. He’s so clever?”

You were so animated when you spoke, with both your hands and facial impressions. You pulled your phone out of your pocket to show him baby photos; him in little costumes, a video your mum took taking his first steps towards you and Dan was annoyed at himself that the only thing he could notice was Dad seemed to be absent in all of the memories.

“He’s so funny. And look at his little curls, you’ll have to tell me what you do with yours because when he gets older I know they’re gonna get more unruly.”

“Oh for sure!” He smiled. “He’s such a cute kid. I can’t wait to get to know him.”

“He likes you already. Uncle Carlos is still his favourite and he likes Lewis and Lando too, but you’re definitely in the running.”

Zak clinked his knife against the side of his glass and stood up. “Hey everyone, I know she planned tonight but we’re hijacking it… we want to say a massive thank you to y/n.”

Dan watched as your cheeks flushed a dark pink and you lowered your head a little. You were so unassuming and humble that he knew that being singled out like this made you nervous, but that didn’t stop Zak from carrying on.

“You’ve been such a star player this past decade and we’re so grateful that you stuck with us despite other teams wanting to poach you with promotions, especially Ferrari.”

“I could never leave you guys, you’re like my family at this point.” You chuckled, trying to get the attention off of you and back to everyone else. So you raised a glass. “To McLaren!”

Everyone clinked their glasses together and Dan offered his to you, cheersing you. “Good job you’re still here, I’m glad you’re with me.”

You didn’t think you could blush any darker but you did, if you could have just turned invisible right in that moment you would. The way Dan’s honey coloured eyes were scanning over your face made you feel all weird and you didn’t know if you liked it. You hadn’t had this feeling for a long time and it was scary.

“…Lando.” You turned your attention away from Dan, looking to the man on your other side instead. “Ready for the race tomorrow?”

Dan frowned a little, clenching his jaw a little - all he wanted was to get to know you but you just kept shutting the door on him. He excused himself from the table for a moment and you took a deep breath. You didn’t like making him feel confused but you were just not ready to talk about your feelings, your past… anything. He didn’t know you, despite the fact he really wanted to.

“You should give him a chance, y’know.” Lando said, his voice soft.

“Excuse me?” You frowned.

Lando’s eyes widened. “Not like that! Just get to know him, he’s a good guy. He’ll have your back.”

You let out a soft sigh, taking a big sip of your wine. “I’m not very good at letting people in… I’m just a little scared I’ll say too much and scare someone away.”

“It’s Dan. You could have an extra set of toes growing out back and he’d be your friend. Just give it a go.”

Just give it a go.

If it was that simple you would’ve done it a long time ago, but when Dan reapproached the table you knew you had to at least try. You gave him a kind smile.

“I’m glad I’m at McLaren with you as well.” Your voice was quiet, a slight nervous tremor.

Dan placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “We’re gonna make a great team, y’know? I don’t know what happened in your past, I’m more focused on the here and now.”

He relished in the way your cheeks flushed. “…thank you. Look, I uhm, I’m not very good at opening up but I’ll try.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, okay?” He’d lowered his voice, practically a whisper. “I want to get to know you but your pace.”

You let out a soft sigh. It was just hard. Getting close to someone was terrifying because you didn’t want to get hurt again. The Australian felt guilty, he didn’t mean to upset you.

“Hey… come with me.”

Without thinking, he wrapped his hand around yours and led you away from the table. Your heart was absolutely racing, why did his hand feel good around yours? He pushed open the door into the patio area, the warm breeze was pleasant on your skin and the quiet felt nice.

“Nice out here right?” He hummed, the two of you took a seat at one of the patio tables. “Much quieter.”

“…being a single mother is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do and sometimes I wake up and feel like every choice I’ve ever made in Milo’s life was the wrong one.”

The word vomit came out before you could stop it - you expected Dan to excuse himself awkwardly but instead he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side.

“I’ve not known you long but you are a great Mum.” He whispered softly. “Milo is such a good kid. He’s funny, he’s kind… he’s amazing.”

You let your head rest on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. His fingers traced softly up and down your arm, just enjoying your warmth against him.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “I didn’t mean to just come out and say that.”

“Don’t apologise. I appreciate you opening up to me.”

You looked up at him, backing away a little when you realised how close your faces were. “I just wanted to keep this relationship professional but there’s just something about you that makes me feel comfortable and that’s scary.”

Dan’s heart was racing but he didn’t want to scare you away. Any declaration of his crush would definitely send you running for the hills so instead he just opted for a kind smile.

“I feel comfortable around you too… so, friends?”

The way your eyes sparkled in the soft lights of the patio gave him butterflies, the soft smile on your face was beautiful.

“Friends.”

***************************************************

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[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[fuck-customers]

I just had the Karen to END all Karens.

So we’ve had issues with this lady ordering before and she’s infamous between me and my boss (who helps me out with the phones). She always takes an absurdly long time to order between asking the same questions every time and basically drags on the call with needless chatting. Even during the dinner rush we’ve been glued to the phone because of her, with other orders pilling up.

“Oh, what do you recommend? Oh what’s on special tonight? Oh, I don’t like that. My son’s a vegetarian, what’s on special that he can have?”

Literally we go through this every time but always she gets relatively the same thing in the end. My boss has the record of being on the phone with her for over 10 minutes even though she orders like 3 things.

Anyways, last time we did screw up her order and added onions to her salad when she did request them off. She proceeded to call me and complain. And normally that’s alright, mistakes happen and we do our best to fix them. But no, she didn’t even want a new salad or a refund, she only wanted to yell at me about it. I had customers waiting, but I just had to sit and listen to her vent. She was super over dramatic about it too, as “If I WAS ALLERGIC TO ONIONS I COULD HAVE DIED” was a memorable quote from that conversation.

Well, fast forward to tonight, and she orders again. Same whole deal, going through the entire menu, asking the same questions, and getting the same thing anyways. She’s acting all snarky about how she doesn’t want onions too. “I want no onions, tomatoes , onions, and onions. Oh, did I mention I want no onions?” I STG she says it like 5 times before I finally snap back telling her we made a mistake last time, but we will not put onions on there. I even went back and personally told the cook no onions since I really did not want to hear from her again.

One thing I noticed was that she didn’t ask for no meat on her salad (which normally is included by default) which I did think was odd since I was 98% sure she was a vegetarian too. I thought hey, maybe I was wrong or maybe she switched idk that’s her business. Just to be safe, I repeat back her order, including all the things she did request taken off. I ask her if her order is correct and she confirms it. I end the call.

It apparently was not correct.

She calls back, furious we would give meat to a vegetarian. I tell her that was exactly what she ordered, and she even confirmed it. I even have the recording of the call as proof. But no, apparently this is still somehow our fault, and she wants a new salad. I tell her it would have to be full charge as we did everything correctly on our end. She absolutely blows up over that, and at this point my boss (who was just watching as she knew exactly who I was talking to just by hearing my end of the conversation) asks to take over.

Things last like 5 seconds before this Karen starts swearing at my boss, who informs her she won’t continue the call if that’s how she’s going to talk. Of course, Karen keeps on swearing so my boss hangs up on her. She calls back a minute later and first thing my boss does is repeat that the conversation will only continue if she talks respectfully. So yeah, we had to hang up on her again 2 miliseconds later.

So yeah, needless to say this Karen is now on our very short “Do Not Deliver To” list.

[elysiadjarin]

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

prompt 35 with sana, thank you!

Sana x Reader

Prompt n°35 : " I'm not letting them get away with this."

Pigs

"Hey baby, how was work ?"

That, was the one question you weren't ready to answer to. You didn't want to talk about work, the company or the people working there.

Sana was smiling waiting for your answer but luckily she received a text which made her forget that she even asked.

Drifting on an other subject you didn't know if you were happy or sad. You didn't want to annoy her with your problems but you wished she just knew somehow.

For the moment you decided to just go with the flow, trying to forget about what happened at work.

You listened to Sana's day with the girls until you fell asleep (her stories were always full of details maybe a little too much for you to keep track).

Sadly tomorrow was fast to come and with it a new day at work where nothing had changed over night. Your co-workers were still all men and were still reminding you every minute that you were only there for the company's image and quotas.

You were indeed the only female of your sector and they were making sure to treat you that way. You actually had to go down of two floor just to go to the bathroom because there wasn't any female bathroom upstairs.

If only it was just about bathrooms but no there was more, you were the victim of sexual harassment almost everyday. You only realised it recently but that was the truth there wasn't a single man in this floor who didn't make terribly sexualised jokes while talking to you nor was there any man who does talk to you with respect.

Over the last week you took note of those interactions and seeing them written only made them more real. On monday Chad was asking you out for a beer because : "A woman like you shouldn't refuse to go out with any man."

Tuesday it was David's turn to say you needed a man in your life while you were eating, he even try to wipe your lips with his thumb.

Wednesday it was Patrick your co-worker who decided that a crowded elevator was a good excuse to touch your ass.

Yesterday was the scariest, when your boss made it pretty clear that if you'd give him a blow job he would gave you a raise. The touch of his engagement ring on your hand when suggesting it only made you want to puke some more.

The last one was probably the one which actually hit you for good, even if all of those actions should’ve. You had enough but what could you do when your job was at risk. You loved your job, you really did but it was until the fear of going to work became louder than the want.

You were about to head off to work a couple of steps separating you from the door but something stopped you before you could reach it. At first you thought it was only the fear showing up and indeed even if you wanted to you probably would’nt have been able to pass the door. Yet the thing that really stopped you in your movement was no other than your girlfriend’s hand grabbing yours.

Sana was there holding your arm, while you were still too deep in thought to actually quite realised what was happening.

“Please don’t go.”

How you wished those words didn’t have such an impact on you but for some reason they sounded like your inner voice talking to you, asking you to stop the torture. 

You didn’t really noticed the tears until your girlfriend’s hands came wipe them away.

She took you back to bed, settling herself against the bed frame and you against her front, she knew. You could tell and not only because of your dairy open on the bed side table but also because it was bound to happen and you figured a long time ago how she’ll react. The simple sight of her eyes showed that she did read everything and now knew all about your condition at work.

“I’m not letting them get away with this.”

Your sobs just grew louder against her chest. She let you take it all out. There was no such thing as shame right now all there was was need, need of her but mostly need of someone on your side.

Because during the past weeks everything felt like a battle against the whole world.

You didn't go to work that day, neither did you the following days. On monday Sana was in your CEO's office threatening him of taking charges against the whole firm.

You wanted to go with her but she refused, there was no way she was letting anymore pigs talk to you or ask you for blow jobs under the table.

Soon enough she came back home still on the phone with someone.

After hanging up, she pecked your lips brightly, visibly happy.

"He is done, they all are. My friend from law school is taking care of it."

For the next twenty minutes she proceeded to tell you how your boss shit his pants at the mention of Twice revealing everything to the public and more especially his wife. He tried to corrupt her with money only to find out she was recording the all conversation on her phone. All that to say he was ruined.

"Can we stop talking about him now ?"

As content as you were about the way your girlfriend made sure that every men that disrespected you get what they deserve, you needed to move on now.

"Yes you're right let's talk about our vacation to Hawaï ?"

"Wait what ?"

And there your girlfriend proceeded to tell you every detail of why you were going on vacation and for once you liked that there was so much.

"Oh baby I almost forgot, congratulations Mrs. New CEO."

Hey, after I don't know how much time I finally finished this prompt. Hope you like it, give feedback 😁-Ael

[taeescript]

29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother. 

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?). 

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts.  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive. 

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something. 

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down. 

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say). 

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?” 

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects. 

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made. 

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.  

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.  

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”  

                                                            - Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.  

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

[soliverse]

the way of the househusband - n.yt

reader x yuta

genre: gangster au, marriage and family au, fluff humor

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, and cursing

word count:1.5k

networks:​

@nctcreations @kdiarynet @kpopscape @kwritersworld @culture-cafe @neowritingsnet @neoswitchnet @czennienet @nct-writers

ps: this was based off that cute little anime that I found on Netflix and I just had to write it. I didn’t have this beta’d because it was out of a whim and I needed to get it out my system.

 You grabbed your kid from her high chair and gave her a tight hug and plenty of kisses. You're about to leave once again for another workday, but you can't seem to get over leaving your child every single day.

///

"Kitty~"

 You cradled Yena as you made your way into the kitchen, where your husband, Mr. Nakamoto himself, was cooking breakfast for the three of you. Seeing him so domesticated made you giggle for a bit. His tattoo-clad body contrasts your pink frilly apron. You wiped his sweaty forehead and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 Yuta has been working hard as a househusband for more than a year now. He used to be utterly hopeless in the house, something that he couldn't have learned from his past profession, but your husband still tried to keep himself busy while you work, and he stays at home with Yena.

 You see, Yuta is a former head of a famous gang in Japan. When he heard that you were pregnant with his child, he had quit the lifestyle and disbanded the whole unit. It was his life, but it's a small price to pay for raising a family away from chaos. And for that, you are eternally grateful.

 "Yuta, the eggs are burning."

"Shit. I fucked up."

 You sighed.

 "Language, please." You covered your daughter's ears and made your way back to the dining table, placing Yena right beside you as you prepared the baby food you premade for when Yuta will feed Yena throughout the day.

 "I managed to save the eggs..." Yuta brought out the plate of eggs, smilingly proudly as if he's accomplished something. You took one look at the eggs, and apparently, his idea of fixing it was to throw away the burnt pieces. You are now left with irregular pieces of eggs. 

 "Looks yummy..." You took the eggs from him wholeheartedly. You couldn't manage to break the fragile heart of the former gangster head right in front of you. Yuta took out one of the eggs as well, munching happily like nothing ever happened to them.

 Your phone started ringing before you even managed to take a bite out of your breakfast.

 "Oh no. I've got to go!" You stood up from your seat and struggled to find your coat from where you'd left it earlier. You grabbed your suitcase and gave your husband and Yena a kiss goodbye.

 "But… breakfast..." Yuta was disappointed to see you go, so you gave him one last kiss on the lips before saying, "Bring them to work for me later. I forgot I had a meeting at 7."

 You wore your shoes quickly and headed straight to the door. Before you left, though, you shouted, "Yuta, can you go get groceries later after you brought me my lunch to work?"

 Like a puppy, he replied, "Yes, dear. I love you!"

 "Love you too, baby! Give Yena lots of kisses for me!" Before Yuta gets the chance to answer you, you had already slammed the door and ran off to the bus stop to get to work.

///

"Hey, kid."

When you're gone, Yuta likes to play pretend with your kid.

 "You think you're tough enough for the job?"

 He spoke as he dresses Yena up after a bath.

 "We don't take kindly to rookies around here, kid. Are you sure you're man enough to take on the whole Kuma group?"

 Yena answered with a giggle, a gesture that made Yuta's heart melt every single time. It was a habit that Yena picked up from you, and he was glad that she did.

 "Alright. Suit yourself. You will be in charge of holding daddy's grocery basket while we go deliver mommy's lunch. You think you can handle that, kiddo?"

 Yena started babbling some incoherent words, but Yuta took that as her daughter taking up the challenge. She's such a go-getter.

 And after strapping Yena to her carrier, the two of them went on a mission to finish delivering mommy's lunch and buy groceries in one piece. A feat that Yuta wasn't expecting to achieve that day.

 ///

 Yuta had successfully done his task for that day. At the same time, Yena fell asleep in the middle of shopping, so he had an extra time of peace to himself. That is until a group of men came running in his direction. He tried to turn around, whistling as he silently gets away from that situation. If one of them recognizes him, he's dead.

 "Boss!"

 Yuta resisted the urge to facepalm as he heard someone call his former name. He slightly turned around to see Shotaro, his former apprentice, right before the group disbanded. The eyes of the guys chasing Taro went dark. It seems like they have been looking for Yuta through Shotaro for a long time now. He had made sure to hide very well until someone recognized his tattoos showing his plain white shirt.

 "I'm not sure who you're talking about. I'm Nakamoto Yuta, unemployed, full-time househusband."

 "You're the infamous Akuma. You're him, right? The head of the 127 group?"

 Yuta shook his head and flashed a friendly smile.

 "I don't know who you're talking about. If you'll excuse me, you'll wake my daughter up."

 Yuta tried to turn around again, but one of the goons grabbed his shirt. It caused him to move out of balance, almost waking Yena up.

 His attitude started to change. There was a rumor that you should never touch the Akuma unless you wanted to die a horrible death. Now that he has Yena with him, that rule extends to her as well.

 He sighs, and he motioned Shotaro to come to him. The younger guy hesitated at first, but he willingly obliged. Yuta started taking off Yena's carrier and strapped them into Taro's body. 

 "If something happens to her or that basket of groceries, consider yourself dead."

 Yuta warned as he instructed Taro to walk away as far as possible. His fatherly instincts kick in, which the other guy didn't realize made Yuta even more dangerous.

 Yuta cracked his fingers and replaced his toothy smile with something more sinister. It is what they call the smile of death.

 "Now, who wants to die today?"

 ///

 Shotaro came back to the scene, horrified at the lifeless bodies that Yuta left on the sidewalk. Yuta went back to his giddy self again when he saw that Yena was still sleeping in her carrier.

 "You sleep so well. I'm glad that you also got that from your mother." His white shirt was bloody, but that didn't stop him from holding on to his daughter.

 "Taro, help me carry out those groceries some will you?

 ///

 The three of them came home a few more minutes before you get home. Yuta quickly washed himself to get rid of the bloodstains in his body. He also threw his clothes at the trash as they can't take the stains off of them in time before you get home.

 Shotaro just watched as his former boss, the most ruthless killer in Osaka, wears this pink frilly apron while he makes that night's dinner.

 "Would you like to join us for dinner, Taro?" The kid wanted to refuse, but Yuta was wearing that deathly smile of his again.

 "U-uh sure thing, boss."

 "And please, stop calling me boss. Not in front of my wife or my daughter. Just call me Yuta."

 Shotaro dared not to call his former boss by his first name. However, he nodded as a sign of agreement and helped him take care of Yena and prepare that night's meal.

 You went home to the fragrant smell of soup, a dish that had recently become Yuta's specialty. It was certainly better than half burnt eggs.

 "Oh baby, you won't believe what happened at work today. I--" You stopped on your tracks when you were greeted by another Japanese man that isn't your husband.

 "Oh, hi. Are you a friend of my husband's?" The guy nodded, smiling happily like a little kid. 

 Cute.

 Yuta then came out from the kitchen and greeted you with a kiss. However, even if he hid his face with his long hair, you still noticed tiny cuts along with his eyes and forehead.

 "What are those?" You stepped closer and tried to sweep his hair off his face. You were hoping to get a closer look.

 "Ahh, haha, those were from when I was attempting to install a shelf earlier. The screw got loose and hit me in the face. Right, Taro?"

 The kid looked panicked, but he nodded profusely like he actually meant it.

 "Alright. What's for dinner, then?"

 You knew that Yuta got in a fight again. You're not as innocent as he deems you to be. There is a reason why you were married to a former gang boss, after all. However, you saw Yena all cleaned up and well-rested. Yuta did an excellent job of taking care of her well. It didn't matter that he went back to fighting once again. It was in his nature, after all. 

 What matters is that every day, you will come home to him, Yena, and a bowl of freshly made soup after a day of hard work. That is all you ask for your househusband as of now.

[cblgblog]

So everyone seems to use Steve's search for Bucky between Winter Soldier and Civil War as evidence of his obsession with Bucky.

Anti-Steve Tony fans talk about him stealing or misusing Avengers (Tony's) resources on his personal mission to reunite with Bucky. Some of them even seem to think that Steve and Sam went behind Tony's back to do it.

And anti-Endgame-Steve Stucky fans claim that his 2-year search for Bucky show how devoted he was, and that someone who would devote so much time and effort to finding someone would never abandon them, it must be evidence of true love, etc.

But wasn't it also just...his job? Not to say that Steve didn't have a personal motivation, but isn't tracking down the Winter Soldier something the Avengers should be doing anyway? The movies are never really clear about what their jurisdiction includes, but surely it includes catching a genetically and cybernetically enhanced former Hydra assassin, no matter whose best friend he used to be.

This just seems like another way fandom re-writes Steve's character to be a reckless asshole who is All About Bucky.

Oh, for God’s sake…

Alright, let’s go then, Tony stans first because, for God’s sake:

The Avengers Initiative? It ain’t Tony’s thing, people. He has that joke in AoU about how he pays for things and designs things, but he is in no way in charge of the Avengers. The comics team cycle between leaders, but the films have never established anyone in particular as a leader who has more authority than the others. So, let’s stop bitching about the multibillionaire and “his” precious resources supposedly being squandered. This was not an Avengers thing. This was not a SHIELD thing. This was very much something Steve took responsibility for on his own, was willing to pursue on his own, except Sam chose to help him out, because Sam is a near-perfect human being.

Behind Tony’s back? Really?

First of all, Steve is not Tony’s pet, despite what some of the creepier fics would have us believe. Steve does not owe Tony any more of an explanation of what he chooses to do outside of Avengers stuff than anyone else does. Did Bruce okay it with him before going into space? I don’t recall that scene. Did Thor seek his permission before leaving in AoU? Thor would fucking cackle at the idea that he had to clear his personal business with Tony, and Hulk would smash. What about Tony building EDITH the magical murderbot 2.0? You know the one that fucked everything up in Far From Home? Doesn’t seem Tony mentioned that to anyone, does it?

Tony is not Steve’s boss. Steve is a grown ass man who can do whatever he wants to do, and not only can Tony not say shit about it, he most likely wouldn’t. Not to bring up Harry Potter on main, but these people did not have a Weasley clock that tracked each other’s movements. There was no, oh gosh I wonder where this person is, I’m so concerned. When Hulk flew off into space after AoU, there was no mounting of a space search party. Pretty much everyone just shrugged and didn’t see him for 2 years, and didn’t care. Same with Thor. After AoU, he went off to investigate the visions and the Stones and everyone was just, okay cool, later man. Hell, Avengers 1 goes out of it’s way to show them all scattering, and Fury saying that they wouldn’t necessarily regroup again until they absolutely had to.

These people were, all of them, very much free agents on their own time. They didn’t have curfews or weekly team meetings. Besides which, Steve wasn’t exactly hiding what he was doing. Natasha knew. Sam talks to him about it at Avengers freaking Tower, while everyone is there, at the party Tony is throwing. If Tony did not know—which is an ‘if’ in itself because what evidence is there that he didn’t?—it’s because he didn’t care enough to ask. And that’s not even a dig, that’s just literally how the team was written. They pursued their own goals outside of Avenging. They had their own lives. Clint had a whole ass family. Tony most likely either knew and did not care, or did not ask and did not care.

“Oh, but he would’ve cared if bad, evil Steve hadn’t LIED!”

First off, it’s fucking dumb of the Russos and Co. to say that Steve knew in the first place. He had a 2 second image of Winter Soldier, presented to him by a literal Nazi. It was an inference, at best, unless the file Nat gave him at the end of Cap 2 offered more concrete proof, or he found more evidence of it we didn’t see in the 2 year gap. Also, if Zemo could crack that footage, open those Hydra files, you’re gonna tell me Tony, the smartest hacker ever to exist in the whole world ever, that he couldn’t? He hacked the US government in high school, but with his smarts and resources, and 2 goddamn years, he couldn’t have discovered that himself, if he’d made even a cursory effort? Apparently he was too busy building murder robot 2.0.

But, Steve says that he knew, he takes responsibility for it, so let’s give him the black mark. He apologized, at least. He acknowledged he was wrong, and apologized. Has Tony ever done that with anyone, besides Pepper? Someone remind me if he’s ever done that with anyone besides Pepper.

Anyway. Side rant. The point is, Steve pursued his own leads, on his own time, it had nothing to do with Tonky Jesus, stop making every goddamned thing in the MCU or any universe about Tonky Jesus.

As for the Stucky people. I have always said that I see the shipping potential. I get that. Don’t ship it, but I get it. I’ve also said that it was never written in a shippy way in the canon, because it wasn’t. Shippers are not being queerbaited and having the rug pulled out from under them when Steve carries around Peggy’s picture from his first film to his last, for 7 years after her death, and then ends up with her in the end. That is not a hard pivot, that’s not Rachel and Joey on Friends, if anyone didn’t see those signs, they chose not to. Doesn’t mean it’s not a valid ship or that it doesn’t deserve to be fanoned the hell out of, or that you aren’t allowed to view those characters in that light. It just means that canon wasn’t written the same way. 

Steve loves Bucky in canon. He absolutely does. We’re simply never given indications in canon, at all, that it’s romantic love. Yes, he went to hell and back for the man. Repeatedly. Because Steve is a good man, and he loves Bucky, and Bucky is a good man, and loves Steve. That does not make them canonically lovers, and it does not mean they can’t lead lives outside of each other. Hell, within the MCU stuff we see, they spend more years apart than they do together.

As for it being Steve’s job to catch WS, yes, you are right. He is also, undoubtedly, personally invested. There is no way he couldn’t be. If WS wasn’t Bucky, or if Steve didn’t know he was? Who knows whether he would’ve made catching the guy his personal mission? He may well not have. So yes, it’s Bucky, Bucky will always be a personal thing for Steve, as he tells Wanda in CW.

But here’s the thing. It’s about Bucky, but it ain’t all about Bucky, anymore than it is all about Tony. Say Bucky was Nat’s personal mission. Say they had some of their comics history, or that Nat just wanted to find the guy who shot her. Steve would have pulled a Sam. He would have gone with her on her quest, had she asked him to. He probably would’ve gone with her if she’d wanted to fly into space and find stupid Banner. He would’ve gone with Thor to Asgard if asked (which would’ve been fun btw). He gave Tony the phone. Hey, I fucked up, I’m sorry, but if you need me, I’ll be there.

That’s just how Steve is. He would’ve wanted to rescue the 107th from behind enemy lines even if Bucky wasn’t among them. As far as he knew, Bucky could’ve been dead already when he went in there, but he went anyway.

Yes, it’s personal. Yes, it’s about Bucky. But it is not, and it has never been, all about Bucky, anymore than it is all about Tony.

In short, Steve Rogers is his own character, not just a prop for your actual fave. He lived a long, happy, fulfilled life, and all the bad faith readings in the world and whining about the TVA won’t change that.

[egcdeath]

opposites attract

pairing: steve rogers x villain!reader

summary: based off of the lyrics:

“you and i are two oceans apart

we're on earth to break each others hearts

in two, and it's hard

with you, when i'm too far

from you, i look at the stars,

do you?”

from ‘ferrari’ by the neighbourhood

warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)

if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Thick, cushioned, cream colored walls. You supposed this was an upgrade from your last room, with its harsh and reflective steel. Every time you made an appearance here, it seemed there was a new, yet futile, attempt to keep you contained.

As you studied the pillowy surface, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table that your hands were currently strapped down to, and secretly hoped for your captor to rear his head, even if he was peeking through the double-sided mirror to your left.

Your mind proved itself to be a powerful thing, as the door ahead of you opened, and none other than Captain America stepped in, looking valiant and proud as ever.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” you greeted.

“Flux,” he said in a matter of faculty tone, nodding his head at you before pulling the chair in front of you aside and sitting down.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked, as if you hadn’t been tussling with him in the streets less than an hour ago.

“Y’know, just our biweekly catch up,” he shrugged, playing along.

“Can I suggest coffee for our next meeting?”

Steve scoffed, but you almost swore that if you squinted, you could see him blush. “Enough of that,”  he mumbled before opening a yellow folder and turning it to face you. “You ready to tell me about him?” Steve asked, pointing to a printed photo of Brock Rumlow.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Captain,” you responded, looking up and batting your lashes at the man. This routine was like clockwork for you two. Fight a little, get yourself caught after a moment of weakness, and end up in an interrogation room.

“Don’t play dumb with me Flux,” he warned in a snarl, wrapping his fingers against your wrist and making you yelp. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Ouch, Captain. You’re being rough today, even for you.”

“I’m always rough with you,” he insisted, raising a brow as he loosened his hold on you.

“You’re being rougher than usual, that’s what I just said,” you furrowed your own brows at him. “Something on your mind?

“You’re stalling,” Steve stated while squinting at you.

“I would never do something like that, Cap,” you closed your eyes and visualized the outside of the building. “Does it have anything to do with those accords?”

You opened an eye quick enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking, “I didn’t mean to strike a chord. Oh my gosh, ‘a chord’, accord. I really didn’t even mean to do that.”

You opened your other eye to get a clear view of him glaring at you. “Okay, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” you gave Steve a sly wink.

He stood up from the chair in a dramatic fashion, leaning down to get right in your face. “No. You won’t. Tell me everything you know about Rumlow.”

“Cap,” you pouted mockingly. “You’re not very good at this. Really makes a gal wonder why they keep sending you in to interrogate me, when you don’t seem to get much out of me.”

He grit his teeth while looking down at you, your eye contact both intense and passionate.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began, looking away at a plain wall in an attempt to focus a bit more on leaving, “I genuinely know nothing about him.”

Steve gave you a humorless look, and your eyes naturally flitted back to him, “really,” he said drily.

“Really,” you confirmed. “We don’t really work in that whole chemical warfare field. Especially with a guy like Rumlow? He’s bad news. Did you really think that all ‘villains’,” you made air quotations on the table. “Know the intimate details of each other’s lives and plans?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed aloud as he moved back, seemingly convinced.

“I was serious when I said that I’m leaving, though. You and I both have better things to do. But please tell Wanda that she did a good job for me, okay? I mean, civilian deaths are never pretty, but I genuinely would miss having you around.”

“I hate how you talk so much, but literally say nothing,” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna take that personal, ‘cause I know you don’t really mean that,” you sighed softly and looked away to visualize the outside of the building. “Hopefully the next time I see you won’t be UN sanctioned. Farewell, Captain.”

With those words, you were gone.

——

For the next few days of your life, you hadn’t stopped receiving an earful at the Brooklyn base. Mainly from your teammates, who seemed to never let things go, and were the nastiest gossips you’d ever met. Currently, rumor had it that Cecelia, your boss, was preparing to have a strong word with you.

You cracked your knuckles anxiously as you followed a teammate, Amelia, down into the sparring facility, as an attempt to calm your mind before whatever bad news was broken to you.

You passively listened to the TV in the corner of the room while wrapping your knuckles in preparation of getting your ass beat, and listened to the rapid fire reports from hours earlier in the day, but mainly tuned into the fight between the Avengers at the Leipzig airport.

“Have you heard?” Amelia questioned, tying up her lengthy hair as she sauntered onto the mat.

“No, tell me more,” you followed suit on the mat, rising onto the ball of your foot to the heel of your foot in an alternating rhythmic bounce.

“I guess some of it is that UN thing, but it’s probably because of the Winter Soldier,” Amelia bounced similarly to you before charging forward and throwing a left hook at you.

“No way! I thought that guy just disappeared after that S.H.I.E.L.D shit,” you dodged the swing, and went to knee her. “I swear, I asked Steve about it once.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at you, and caught your knee, pushing you down to the ground in the process. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“I think it’s mutual. And you said you’d go easy on me,” you whined, grabbing her extended hand and pulling yourself back up.

“You’re delusional, and that’s why Cec is pissed with you. In fact, Cecelia was so mad, that she couldn’t even form the words to tell you. At least, that’s what she told Naomi.”

“Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t been caught by him a million times already.”

“That’s the problem, though. What happens when they decide to send someone else in to talk to you? And they start waterboarding you, or some shit? All the sudden the Avengers know everything about us?”

“Well that wouldn’t happen, because I would leave,” you shrugged after blocking a few punches.

“I hope you’re getting all your aloof-ness out now, because Cecelia is not gonna put up with this attitude.”

You huffed, and marched over to get a sip of water, dramatically squirting it in your mouth before heading back to the sparring mat.

“Just let me enjoy this while I can, okay? I know how to protect myself,” you swung your fist in an uppercut, and Amelia maneuvered herself out of the way.

“Well, I was just reading something before this. Apparently your boy is a fugitive of the law now. It almost looks like your time is already up,” Amelia commented, delivering a stiff jab to you at the same time that you crouched.

Hearing this news, you froze up, and the punch landed right on your nose, an unsatisfying crack reverberating in your ears.

“Y/N, you alright?” She asked, approaching you as you reached a hand up assess the damage, and pulled away an extremely bloody hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled letting her lead you off of the mats and to the connected bathroom, so you could get a better look at yourself.

You were dizzy with pain, and you pressed your hand to your nose, willing it to heal. Though not your most frequently used ability, it certainly assisted some of the pain. You squeezed your face in a cringe as your bone rearranged itself.

“Is he in jail?” you asked, watching her face screw up in the mirror.

“You’re not really- you are a lost cause,” Amelia scoffed.

“You could be a little nicer to the person whose nose you just broke.”

“You’re fixing your own nose! You’re fine, okay?” she exasperatedly brought her palm up to her forehead. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Be ready to talk to Cecelia as soon as you leave this room. A word of advice? Don’t mention your work husband unless she mentions it first, okay?”

Amelia set a hand on your back and pat it, “good luck with her. If you need a sofa to crash on after this, my place is always free.”

You shook your head at yourself as she left, your own personal healing already fixing most of the damage. As you hopped into your own shower stall, you couldn’t help but question just how bad this confrontation was truly going to be.

——

You walked into Cecelia’s office after receiving a text message from her assistant, inviting you to meet with her.

You were handed a disposable cup filled with piping hot coffee as you entered, and Cecelia beckoned you to sit down in front of her. You obliged, nervously rubbing your hands on your pants as you sat.

“Y/N,” she began in a sigh, “what has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, just-“ the older woman put an open hand out, prompting you to stop.

“No, Y/N. You’ve let Rogers become your biggest blind spot. You let him catch you off guard and capture you nearly every single time you go out on the field! I’m starting to think that you want him to catch you.”

“What if I do?” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“It’s not a ‘what if’ anymore, dear,” Cecelia took a deep breath. “Especially after what happened in San Francisco.”

“I- Cec, you told me that you wouldn’t bring up California anymore!” you huffed and shook your head. “It’s not even like it’s a problem. They haven’t once received intel from me,” you added.

“Something tells me that you won’t be having the same interrogator for a while at least. We were gonna take you out of the field before this whole Avengers fiasco, but I think it’s time for you to just take a break as a whole.”

“So you’re firing me?” you huffed, “great.”

“No, you are taking a break. We can get you set up in the Prague safe house, and everything.”

You weakly threw up your hands and looked away from Cecelia, not even being able to bear looking at her for the moment. What a great day you were having.

——

You sulked the whole way up to your apartment, and reached in your jacket’s pocket with sluggish speed. It was as if you couldn’t catch a break today, which was all you seemed to be able to think about while grabbing your key.

You looked up at the door, and noticed something slightly off. The door was just the slightest bit ajar, as if it was deliberately cracked for you to see. Someone was inside. Waiting for you. You held in your groan as you came to this conclusion.

You really couldn’t catch a break.

Despite your better judgement, you devised a quick plan in your mind. You could probably protect yourself, right? You closed your eyes in a blink, and imagined your kitchen. The plasticky tiles on the floor, the dent in your countertop from dropping a mug, the wooden cupboards that you’d quickly fallen in love with. The next moment, you were standing in your kitchen, right next to your silverware.

As quiet as you could possibly manage to be, you slipped your sharpest and largest knife from its home in a wooden block, and defensively in front of you. Creeping out of the kitchen and into your hallway, you examined area by area for any sign of intrusion, pointing your knife with every turn.

After finding nothing and no one, at the end of the hallway you turned, walking back down and stopping in front of your living room after noticing a few dark stains on your carpet.

You took a deep breath before walking into the open space, the pit in your stomach growing at the thought of what it was that you were about to find.

With a few timid steps, you found a shirtless Steve Rogers, sat on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he released shallow breaths and attempted to apply pressure to a wound. With one look at him, you yelped and involuntarily found yourself back in the hallway outside of the room, your fear strong enough to force you into teleportation.

“Funny seeing you here,” Steve began, and you stalked back into the room, your steps slightly less fearful as you stepped over his discarded tactical gear.

“Steve?” You whispered, setting the knife on a random bookshelf before kneeling down on the floor next to him. You had a plethora of questions, but you couldn’t decide what was the most important. “I- Are… What happened?”

He shrugged weakly.

“Okay, well how badly are you hurt?” You questioned apprehensively.

“Pretty badly,” he responded.

You nodded slowly while you attempted to process the entire situation. You couldn’t tell if this was a scene from your wettest dream, or worst nightmare. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered, leaving the room to grab some water to help you speed up your healing process.

As you reentered your living room, you set down the bowl of water and squatted down next to Steve once again. Dipping your hands in the liquid, and placing them on an open head wound, you found it appropriate to question him.

“Steve,” you began, watching the forehead laceration quickly shrink into a small scar. “Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” he put plainly.

“A hospital, maybe?” you added, pushing away the hand that was currently holding down a rather bloody wound on his upper arm, and exchanging it for your own.

“Something tells me that a hospital isn’t the best place for a guy of my legal status to be at right now,” he countered while you halted your attempt to reduce the size of the wound, cracking your stiff knuckles in preparation for the final push of closing the abrasion. “Besides, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this before. You remember S-“

“San Francisco. Right,” you cut Steve off, and brushed off the previous comment. “This is gonna hurt a little,” you warned. before setting your fingers down, and putting an obscene amount of pressure on the bicep wound.

Steve grit his teeth so hard that you swore you could hear it. His muscles clenched as you resumed your attempt to soothe the sore.

“Hey, look at me,” you used your free hand, and gently pushed his cheek so that he was looking at you. “If I distract you, it’ll hurt a lot less. Trust me.”

He seemed to agree with you, and took in a deep breath while the corner of his eye twitched.

“How did you even find my apartment?” you asked, using your pinky to tilt his chin up, and force his view away from the cut.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, we’ve been tracking you and that ‘financial firm’ you work in for years,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You sure it’s not because you like to keep a personal tab on me?”

“No! Why would I…?”

“Because if all the Avengers knew where me and my teammates reside, we’d all be locked up already.”

“Fine, maybe I pulled a few strings. It’s just because I think you’re the biggest threat to the general public.”

“Really? The woman with the least destructive powers of all of us, not the one with super strength? Or the one who could manipulate elements? Or even, I don’t know, the person leading us?” you chuckled a bit at the poor excuse.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, but you could clearly see the soft flush on his face.

“It’s okay, Steve. We all have our favorite coworkers.”

“We aren’t coworkers, though.”

“It seems like you’re gonna need all the allies that you can come across. Don’t get picky with me now,” you tutted, finalizing your work on his peck, and leaving behind a small, pink scar.

You let out a breath of exhaustion as you pulled your hand away, and pointlessly shook out your wrists.

“You alright?” Steve questioned, adjusting himself a bit on the sofa and grunting at the rather simple task.

“Fine. What else needs attention?”

He gestured to the light bruising on his ribs that only seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

“We should take a break first, though. You seem tired.”

“I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” you countered, setting one hand on your chest, and pointing a lazy finger at Steve, “you’re the one that needs a break.”

Steve grabbed your finger and gently pushed it down, “I don’t really, but maybe we should take a break.” He gave you a kind smile, and your heart fluttered. Even bartered and bloody, Steve managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Well, any great Captain America plans to get yourself out of this mess?” you leaned against the sofa, and twisted your torso slightly so that you could get a good look at your visitor.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve pursed his lips slightly. “Any input from the lady who seems to get out of every rock and hard place she finds herself in?”

You snickered, and shook your head at this, “not at the moment. But you have me on speed dial, right? I can get back to you when I think of something,” you joked with a wink.

“I would laugh, but I’m honestly a little nervous that my lung might pop if I do.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you scooted away from him so you could be closer to the bowl of water once again. “Why did we take a break? You need urgent medical attention.”

“You needed a moment.”

You shook your head and frowned, catching the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, “don’t do that again.”

You dunked both of your hands in the water, then turned back around and set your damp hands on the bruising on Steve’s ribs, closing your eyes in concentration as you addressed the damage.

Steve howled out in pain, making you flinch as a result. With the hand doing less work, you blindly pat around in a search for something to shove into his mouth and dampen the noises he was currently making. Eventually settling on a blanket, you shoved the fabric deep into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you uttered while the muted noise of his pain rang through your ears, “neighbors.”

The task wasn’t the easiest for you either, healing what seemed like such a large break or fracture following several other injuries was depleting your energy quickly. Your arms and hands trembled as you began to watch the splotchy yellow mark begin to blend into the rest of Steve’s skin, and you were becoming more and more light headed by the second.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with your work, you pulled your shaky hands away, and leaned away from Steve’s body before losing your balance, and falling back onto your plush floor.

Steve yanked the blanket from his mouth, sticking out his tongue for a second as he attempted to pull a spare string from his mouth. He sat up rapidly, and looked down at you with raised brows, and big, frightened eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked breathily, still exhausted from his own exertion, “you still with me?”

Your chest rose and fell slowly, and you were silent for a moment before responding, “I just need a minute.”

Steve relaxed back into the sofa with the knowledge that you were at least still conscious, and waited a few beats before he spoke again, “thanks,” was all that he managed to utter.

The two of you sat there in an extremely loud silence, the only other noise being your nearly synchronized panting.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you announced after what felt like hours on your floor. You slowly rose, and dragged yourself to the bathroom in your bedroom. Hitting the shower valve, then sitting atop your countertop you let the suite fill with steam, reflecting on your bizarre day, but most of all, your interaction with Steve.

You let yourself dwell on this while you stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the warm tile as you considered the implications of every word shared between the two of you, and how you’d let this tiny crush get so far ahead of you. Maybe it really was a good idea to take some time away from New York. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you failed to catch onto the sound of the floorboard that loudly creaked in your living room, or the soft click of your front door opening and closing.

Changing into some more comfortable clothing, you exited the bathroom, and ultimately your own room ready to offer up your shower to Steve, and possibly even talk about your feelings in a serious manner with him. Yet, by the time you arrived at the couch that had held him just a half hour ago, it was vacant. In fact, your whole apartment was vacant. You’d checked three whole times.

Ending your fruitless search on your balcony, you settled down into the single plastic beach chair that you kept outdoors, and draped the blanket from your sofa that had previously been in Steve’s mouth around your shoulders. The chill of the night air contributed to the sting of your eyes when they welled up, and you told yourself that it was silly to ever think that this, you and him, could ever happen in the first place.

Gazing up at the stars, you cursed yourself for being so naive. For letting yourself fall so fast, and so hard for someone you knew so out of reach. The stars seemed to mock you, in all of their billions of years of knowledge.

Yet, part of you was comforted by the knowledge that Steve could be viewing the same constellations as you.

----

a/n: listen. i feel like these idiots have a lot of potential so if you want me to write any more of them i am totally down!