#Apartment Cleaning Services New York

[espinosaurusrexex]

Watchful Eyes

CEO!SteveRogers x Female!Maid!Reader AU

read Bucky's story here

summary: When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

a/n: So that just happened... I don't know where it came from, but please enjoy. (Please don’t be discouraged by the word count - I promise you it’s worth it and I kindly ask you to at least try 💛)

word count: 10.8k

warnings: power differences, Steve is pining, watching someone over secret livestream (is this stalking?), women being referred to as objects (not by Steve), just so much fluff, and also angst (there is a happy ending!), smut (masturbation - m, praise kink, oral - f receiving, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, unprotected p in v, size kink, breeding kink) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

“Can you start Monday?”

“I can start Monday.”

“Perfect.”

Holy fuckidy fuck fuck. 

You had a job. A job that would crinkle some noses but it would pay money. Good money actually. Well, better than other offers in the branch.  

It had been luck, really. Because during one drunken night, which had originally been dedicated to drowning yourself in self-pity over the last job that had let you go due to staff cuts, your friend Natasha had crashed your party with Chinese food and gossip from her workplace. She was an assistant for one of the CEO’s of Shield Protection Services. And during her lunch with Sharon, the other assistant, Sharon had complained about Steve Rogers and how he had fired the third maid this month because they, apparently, were taking pictures of his home or selling some of his things. 

There might have been some talk about how picky and stuck up he could be but the important info was that Sharon was desperate at this point and had asked Nat if she knew anyone with the decency not to breach privacy and willingness to clean the CEO’s home. 

The good thing - or bad thing, you weren’t sure - was, Nat knew you were desperate too. So she gave Sharon your number and before you knew it, you were an employed woman again. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It was too early for you to be roaming the streets of New York, but you had gotten instructions and so you had gotten up at 6 and headed out to the address. And when you arrived, it felt as though it was the first time you blinked since the subway - you were that tired. Definitely not a morning person.  

The building was huge, tall glass fronts stretching into the sky and the ride up to the penthouse took longer than your average elevator rides did. 

The doors opened and revealed a beautiful open floor plan. A whole wall of windows brought natural light into the place and offered a view so breathtaking, it took you a moment to collect yourself. The place was ginormous - a lot to clean up - but seemed tidy enough to at least get started right away. 

You placed your bag on the counter by the kitchen and took more of the place in when suddenly, a voice startled you. 

“Who are you?” You whipped around, big eyes searching for the source until they landed on a tall man standing in what seemed to be a dining area - well, one of them at least. He had broad shoulders, neatly styled hair and one of those toothpaste smiles you only ever saw in magazines. He was wearing office attire, blue dress pants that slightly stretched over his muscled thighs, and when your head wandered back up his body, piercing blue eyes seemed to stare right into your soul. 

Holy Shit. 

Before you stood Steve Rogers, three-time Forbes Magazine cover story, young entrepreneur turned filthy-rich hunk of a man, and CEO of the most successful security firm in this country. And he was talking to you - staring at you... waiting for an answer. 

Talking, you needed to start talking, you reminded yourself.

“I’m the new maid, sir. I’m so sorry I was told to come here at 7 as you leave for work before that.”

Mr. Rogers looked at you with an unintelligible stare. Meanwhile, you were nervously wringing your hands in the doorway, looking down. You hadn’t planned for anyone important to see you today. The worn-down Fleetwood Mac shirt you didn’t mind getting bleach on hanging over some pants you pulled from the back of your closet definitely wasn’t the kind of outfit you expected to greet Steve Rogers in. Great start. This was going awful.

“Well I’m here aren’t I?” His arms folded before his chest as his eyebrow raised, impressive biceps bulging beneath the white button-up, and - damn - it was hard not to stare. 

“Right. Yes. Sorry. I’ll come back later.” You turned to leave again but he stopped you.

“No need. I am on my way out.” The left corner of his mouth twitched into a cheeky grin when he grabbed his bag, left the newspaper discarded on the table, and placed his coffee mug in the sink. Interesting.

“Don’t snoop.” He whispered teasingly as he passed you, a whiff of expensive cologne paralyzing your senses and you weren’t sure if he was making a suggestion or actually warning you. That damn perfume seemed to hypnotize you. 

Your eyes followed his broad shoulders until they disappeared behind the corner and then the elevator doors shut. It seemed to take all the tension from your face. You exhaled long and then began to look around some more.

The place was huge, you’d already established that. But when you found the third bedroom amongst the private office and Pool table room, you knew you had to make a weekly plan to work off. You had to give Mr. Rogers credit, though. There was rarely any clutter lying around - it wasn’t dirty per se - just had the usual dust you’d expect in a place this size with only one person living in it. 

You huffed, resting your hand on your hips once you completed the tour. And then you got started. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve peered up from his computer screen when Bucky strolled through the doors of his office. A coffee in hand he had most likely tweaked from his assistant's desk on the way here, he shot a grin to his oldest friend and business partner. 

“What ya doing, punk?” The brunette asked teasingly when he circled the desk and settled on the window sill behind Steve. 

“Just making sure things stay in order.” He leaned back and turned around slightly, just in time to see his friend nod knowingly.

“Heard Nat got you a new maid.” Bucky dipped his chin towards the laptop still open on the desk. “That her?”

His eyes wandered to the screen where a live feed of his apartment streamed you changing his bedsheets. He hummed in agreement. 

“She’s pretty,” Bucky commented before sipping his coffee again and Steve felt an unfamiliar feeling bubble in his stomach. “But I bet you don’t care anyway. You’re all ‘don’t sell my stuff’ and ‘having things stolen from a security firm CEO is embarrassing’. Wouldn’t know a pretty thing like that if it climbed you.”

“Because it is embarrassing. And I highly recommend you monitor your staff to make sure they don’t do the same.” Of course, Steve knew you were ‘pretty’. Exactly his type, to be honest. He had noticed it the second you stepped into his apartment this morning. The way your hands wrung beneath you. And he had shot you a teasing remark in hopes of discovering a sassy fire in those timid doe eyes of yours. But you had stumbled over your words like a fawn.

Bucky clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Nonsense. Peggy is great - and too old to even carry anything valuable out of my place. I trust her with my life and house keys.” And then he pushed off the sill. “I think it’s time for you to get laid again. And that’s why I’m a great friend and organized dinner and drinks with Tony and Sam tonight.”

Steve fell back in his chair, hands over his eyes. “I don’t need your wing-maning me. I’m perfectly fine on my own.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious, Buck.”

“You can thank me later.” He stout towards the door. “You know... after you’ve been devoured by the pretty little waitress at the Ironbar.” Bucky winked before his face disappeared again. 

Steve just huffed as his eyes landed back on the weekly report on his desk and then swayed back to his computer screen. 

As unwilling as he was to admit it, it had been some time since his last late-night rendezvous. And as he saw you crawl up on his bed to place the bedsheets properly along his mattress, he felt his pants tighten slightly. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“We’ll get one more round of the good stuff.” 

“Of course Mr. Stark.” Tony winked and patted his waitress’s butt before she stalked away on her high heels and towards the locked glass cabinet behind the bar. 

Steve had designed it himself, a fiberglass shrine-like display for ridiculously expensive liquors, only to be opened by a passcode that got regenerated every week. He watched as Betty - the young and lanky waitress - retrieved a crystal bottle of whiskey and filled four glasses with the golden liquid. 

“God, I love that thing,” Tony sighed next to Steve and watched Betty with a satisfied smile.

“You better be talking about that cabinet, Stark.” Steve shook his head with a frown only to receive a wink from Tony, who was sitting closest to him at the round table. 

“So...” Bucky leaned over to Steve and spoke in a hushed voice. “You see anything you like?” He gestured at the bar where Tony’s carefully picked waitresses passed with filled and emptied glasses and bottles. They were all wearing tight black t-shirts and skirts or shorts that counted just as scandalous. One could foolishly mistake this place for a Hooters if Tony hadn’t made it one of the most pristine bars in all of New York City. 

It was popular amongst the clientele which mainly consisted of bored rich men that came here to get something to look at without being judged for it. But Steve wasn’t feeling the girls today. When Betty shoved her breasts in his field of view, all he could think about was how he had never gotten the idea to get his maids a uniform that catered to his... liking. And when Betty swayed her hips on her way to the bar, his thoughts became clouded by the image of you in a short little skirt, riding up just a little to tease I’m about what was hidden underneath when you kneeled on his bed to get the sheets sorted. 

Steve adjusted his pants at the little flashback, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter in his seat. 

“Oh, apparently you have...” Bucky grinned before his eyes hushed down to Steve’s crotch and back up just as fast. “Well then,” he leaned back with a satisfied grin. “Which one is it? Samatha? Tiffany? Though I think Megan is more your type.” 

“Just shut up, punk.”

“Okay you don’t have to tell me me... either way, my job here is done.” He brushed his hands off fake dust and smiled smugly. “You better be in a good mood tomorrow.” 

Steve just huffed and waited for Betty to come back with ‘the good stuff’ to hopefully drown out his annoying friends for the rest of the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them. No, he would do anything for the people he chose to have in his life. The group he found himself in right now had been through thick and thin with him, stayed through his fame and fortune, and was just as supportive before it had all happened to either of them. He was happy having the guys because they built each other up and aimed for greatness - together, they were fucking invincible. 

But sometimes, Steve felt a little out of place amongst Bucky and Tony. It was in situations regarding women most of all because he could never adapt the attitude to talk about them the way they did. And he never had the headspace to juggle as many as they did. He had tried the one-night stands. But he struggled to navigate the superficial pleasure maze New York City provided in masses. Because just as the ever-passing smiles on the streets, it wasn’t fulfilling enough for Steve. At least not in the way it was for his friends. 

He wanted what Sam had. A partner, a family, something constant and beautiful. And that was, why he found himself asking for pictures of Sam’s kids and nephews rather than listen to Tony’s latest bed bunny endeavor whenever the conversations took a turn in that direction. 

“Earth to Rogers,” Sam’s finger snapped in front of Steve’s face. “What this I’m hearing? You got a new maid? What happened to the old one?”

“She sold his stuff on Craigslist.” Bucky snorted and took a sip of the drink that had magically appeared in front of them. 

“You aren’t serious.” 

“I really liked that tie,” Steve grumbled into his cup. 

“Man, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with things like that. You rich people really are a different breed.” 

“You’re rich, too, Sam.” 

Sam just smiled above his crystal glass, having fun with the little joke he liked to pull for ages now. He wasn’t any less successful than any of the other men at their table. But other than them, he had settled in a beautiful neighborhood - despising the concrete jungle each of the other guys lived in. His house felt like home, like a cozy place that had seen love and time and nothing like the polished and sleek man caves the rest of them owned.

“Well, anyways, my amazing assistant organized him a new one, the prettiest thing - really. But he’s refusing to see it.” 

Tony chuckled. “Well, that's Rogers in a nutshell, isn’t it.” 

Sam just pursed his lips and glanced over at Steve with a soft smile, ignoring the comments of the other guys. They never explicitly talked about it, but Sam was a smart man, and it would have surprised Steve, had he not already figured out that he was more of a family man than their friends were as of right now. 

“To new maids that aren’t selling your clothes on the internet then.” He raised his drink and winked at Steve once their glasses clinked. 

And Steve? He visibly exhaled, silently thanking Sam for pulling the tension out of their conversation. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It had been a little over a week. And so far, things had been going great. 

By now, you had cleaned through the entire place once and set up a plan of what to do on which day. You weren’t surprised it actually took a full 6 days to cover every single room in Mr. Rogers’s apartment. You had already figured out which tasks were going to be your favorite and which weren’t. Like his bedroom. You liked doing that. Because even though the sheets were a bitch to get on the ginormous bed, you kind of liked the smell the room had. His pillows smelled of the cologne you couldn’t forget ever since the man had brushed past you on your very first day.

You were pretty sure you would never forget that since your knees literally felt like giving in at that moment.  

Today, it was bedroom day. That and the on-suite. 

With a smile on your face, you entered the apartment on the top floor, each day secretly hoping you’d catch a glimpse of the CEO before he took off to work. But even though you tried to arrive ten minutes earlier (you really couldn’t spare any more sleep for your own good), the first day remained an exception in Mr. Rogers’s daily schedule. 

You placed your bag on the stool at the open kitchen island, changed into some other shoes, and headed for the supply closet. Despite the size of the place, you actually got around pretty easily. Mr. Rogers was a very organized and neat man - you’d noticed that the first and only time you met him. So things were almost always where you’d think they would be. Which made your job just that much easier. But also prevented you from the advised ‘not snooping’ you desperately wanted to do. 

You knew better though. 

People like Steve Rogers probably had cameras installed in this place. And you would certainly not go and rummage through his underwear drawer after he had personally told you not to. Who knows what strings powerful people like him could pull. So, for the sake of not waking up on a cargo ship to Madagascar one day, you restrained yourself as much as possible. 

Of course, you didn’t stop your eyes from wandering whenever you swept the shelves in his walk-in closet or closed the drawers in his office space. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. And this girl had a nosy best friend on her back that wanted to know every little detail of her new job... and was also way too invested in celebrity gossip.

Though, as always, there was nothing out of the ordinary today - there never was. Sure, it was still exciting to see how the filthy rich lived but other than that, no scandalous collection of women’s underwear, or drug lord papers lying around. You started to believe that Steven Grant Rogers was a very boring man. Not that you could properly judge in your position, seeing as you did not really know him, but the whole being in his home seemed a little too intimate not to do so. 

So that day you finished the tasks for the day, packed your stuff, and made your way back home, hoping to see him in the morning or to at least find something more interesting than dust in his home. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve greeted the concierge of his building when he entered the marbled entree hall. With a little frown and a look at his watch, the man greeted him back before he resumed his work. 

Yes, Steve was home earlier than usual. He regularly stayed even longer than his original work schedule intended. Today, however, he was home even earlier. But after another banter with Bucky about Steve’s non-existent sex life, he couldn’t imagine making it past five in the same building as his persistent best friend. So, he fled the office and decided to work through the rest of his papers at home. 

Of course, Steve knew that Bucky only wanted the best for him. But the ways he tried to approach the supposed bothersome loneliness Steve had in his bed just weren’t for Steve. Those might have worked on Tony - hell, Tony probably invented setting his friends up with one-night-stands - but not on Steve.

He huffed and swiped some loose hairs from his forehead as the elevator dinged at the top floor. The doors opened to the window front of his penthouse apartment and Steve stepped over the threshold, immediately stopping in his tracks when he took in the scene before him. 

The vacuum was running while you were kneeling on the floor, wiping up some water he only assumed came from the vase missing next to his sofa. He would have found it rather amusing if it weren’t for the way you carried yourself today. Something wasn’t right. 

Steve knew that you weren’t usually this messy - that much he could tell from the livestream that had become a constant in his office by now. Your head hung low, your motions hurried and sloppy. He watched as you swiped the floor, one of your sleeves constantly slipping down your arm again until you angrily pushed it up further than necessary. 

It was worrisome. 

He couldn’t place the feeling he felt in his chest when he sat his briefcase down and approached you from behind. His foot carefully turned off the vacuum and then he stood still, careful not to startle you when you finally looked up at him. 

He could see it in your eyes then. The panic, the uncertainty, and something else he hadn’t seen in them before.

You looked around you as if you were seeing the mess for the first time and when Steve was still watching you with an arched brow after a minute of silence, you suddenly sprung up to your feet. 

“I am so Sorry, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t realize it was this late already.” You turned a full 360 until your eyes landed on his again. “I’ll have this cleaned up in no time and I'll be out of your way. I promise.” 

Steve watched as you scrambled to gather the vacuum cord, struggling with it when it didn’t immediately snap back into the caster. “The subway was stuck in a tunnel for an hour because some guy decided to pull the emergency break for fun. And then this lady passed out next to me and when the fire department finally got us out and the paramedics packed her in the ambulance, I realized that I still had her purse.” You finally got the cord in turning so fast that the wet rag in your hands sprayed some water on Steve. “And do you know how difficult it is to find out which hospital they’re taking people? Because it’s so much more difficult than it looks in the movies. I didn’t know that! And then it was almost 10 a.m. when I got here. I am so sorry. This won’t happen again I promise-“

“Hey,” Steve finally stepped forward and caught your flailing hands with his and it shut you up. “It’s alright.” He spoke softly, guiding your hands down and proceeding to carefully stroke your arms down. “Are you okay? Do you need a day off?” 

Your doe eyes stared up at him, round and shiny as if you couldn’t believe he was actually standing in front of you. And Steve had to admit, besides the concern breezing through his body, your face was capturing up close. He traced your lashes with his gaze, the way your lips were parted slightly, your teeth showing past your upper lip, and the way your eyebrows were raised in shock. 

“No... no, I’m fine.” You finally stammered and it made Steve relax a little. 

“Then take a breath for me, please.” You nodded and Steve watched as your shoulders moved when you inhaled with your eyes closed. It shook Steve out of his trance. He cleared his throat and retreated his hands from your arms, awkwardly standing up a little straighter now that there was no excuse to touch you anymore. 

You were fine - that’s what you had said. But you didn’t quite seem that way. 

He watched as you opened your eyes and gifted him a small smile. Then your gaze dew to the floor and the mess you were standing in. Your smile turned awkward. 

“I’ll clean this up real quick and then I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Steve shook his head with a smile. Maybe this was a nice opportunity to do as Bucky had suggested. It was true, Steve hadn’t been interested enough before. Had he taken more time to know his former maids better, he could have probably prevented his things from being stolen and sold. Maybe it wasn’t exactly what Bucky had meant by ‘interested’, but Save decided it would do for now. “You can do what you need to and you can take as much time as you need to. I’ll be in my office for some time, so please don’t rush. I didn’t mean to freak you out by coming home earlier.” 

His arms reached up to scratch the back of his neck and your eyes landed on his bicep. Those damn doe eyes. “O- okay.”

He nodded, buried his hands in his pockets, gifted you a tight-lipped smile, and then proceeded to grab his briefcase and disappear into his office at the end of the hall. 

After some time, he heard the vacuum pick back up. Steve peaked through his open office door and caught a glimpse of you roaming his living room every now and then. It was relieving to know that you were functioning again. You had him worried for a second there - a feeling the successful CEO hadn’t welcomed in a hot minute. But it was kind of nice, made him feel a little more human than usual. So he didn’t mind having you work while he was home. On the contrary, actually, even though he had a huge stack of papers to go through, having to do them with a little bit of white noise was much more efficient than he had thought. He liked it when the occasional sound of items being set down snook its way to his office just to be interrupted by the vacuum again. And before he knew it, the workload he had taken home with him today, was worked through. 

Steve made his way to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Though, as he waited for the machine, he found himself leaning against the counter and watching you work in front of him. You were currently bent over the sofa, arranging the cushions after shaking them out, your shirt riding up ever so slightly and exposing a strip of skin on your back. 

The fresh grounding of coffee beans covered the way Steve gulped loudly at the sight of you in front of him. This was definitely different than watching on his laptop screen. He felt his pants tighten ever so slightly as he imagined walking up to you and just taking you from behind. Your face would press into the pillows as he would easily push into you, hearing your drawn-out moans through the cushions. 

He couldn’t help himself, you were just so pretty. 

The smell of coffee drew Steve back to reality. It wasn’t that simple. Because Steve wanted you to want him as well. But you didn’t know him well enough yet. 

You pulled the vacuum around the corner and seconds later the sound of the storage room door closing echoed through the apartment. You walked back into the living room, adjusted the book on his coffee table, and then looked at your work with your hands on your hips. It was kind of cute to watch, Steve had to admit. 

“Well done,” Steve praised and your shoulders jerked in surprise. 

“Woah, didn’t see you there, Sir.” You relaxed again and then moved to change your shoes, before packing the other pair in your bag. You looked like you were about to leave, but Steve didn’t want that. 

“Would you like some coffee?” He offered and turned to grab the mug that was just filled with the steaming hot beverage. 

But you shook your head, raising your hands. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. I’m sure you’ve got work to do...”

“I wouldn’t have asked if it were an inconvenience.” 

You looked down and nodded, which made Steve smile and hand you the cup. Your hands encased it like it was a cold winter's day, timid looks roaming the room and landing everywhere but him. 

“You seem uncomfortable,” he tried, cautious not to intrude. 

“I’m not. It’s just that... I’m not used to,” you gestured around the kitchen, “all this.” 

“I know it sounds stupid but sometimes I feel the same.” Steve took in the high ceilings and shiny surfaces, the expensive paintings and furniture he had no part in picking out.

You just stared at him again before nodding and averting your eyes once more. It seemed like you were holding back, but Steve didn’t feel like he was in the position to ask. So he just had to do with your fleeting glances and diffident presence. It was fine for now. Though he didn’t know if he could actually stand it for long. 

“You got this job through Bucky’s assistant, right?”

“Natasha, yes. She’s my best friend.” Your eyes lit up and Steve celebrated the little victory in silence. He had finally found something to talk about with you. 

“How long have you known each other?” He took a sip of his own coffee, acting indifferent, though his gaze hung on your lips. 

“We’ve been friends since high school. But then we went to different colleges and for a moment, we lost contact. But when I called her after graduation, we reconnected. We coincidentally both moved to New York. It’s nice to have her back.”

“That does sound nice. I know a thing or two about reconnecting with old friends.” Steve smiled reminiscent. 

“Right, your business partner. Mr. Barnes.” You set your mug down when Steve shot you a surprised look. “Sorry, but it’s hard not to know things about you when every tabloid in the country has covered your story.”

Steve nodded, being reminded once again how different his life was now. Not that he didn’t appreciate it... it just used to be simpler. 

“Yes, Bucky is my oldest friend... we’d lost contact in-between as well. Now we spend so much time together, I sometimes wish it was that way again.”

“You don’t mean that,” you laughed and Steve swore it was the prettiest he’d ever heard. 

“Of course not.” He set his cup down once he noticed that you had finished your coffee and had grabbed your bag from the stool. 

“I should go,” you smiled sadly and Steve just nodded with a similar expression on his face. Then he pushed off the counter and walked you to the elevator. He caught your small wave before the doors closed, leaving his stomach feeling warm and fuzzy. 

This was definitely new.

❁ ❁ ❁

The next week was pure torture. 

Steve couldn’t work from home like he had wanted to. He also couldn’t go to work later to at least catch a ‘good morning’ from you. 

It had only lasted a couple more days. He had managed to trap you for a conversation with coffee two times after the first one and then it all went downhill from there. 

Steve’s work seemed to pile up in unusual amounts of papers on his desk. His e-mails and meetings were longer than ever and his frustrations built with every new message Sharon redirected to his phone.

It wasn’t until Bucky pointed out how unusually grumpy he was, that Steve realized, he missed you. How could that have happened? He barely knew you and talked to you even less than that. But he knew he was missing you. Because as silly as it sounded, the time he spent with you, he was more relaxed than ever before. 

“I’m headed home, now. Do you need anything before I go?” Sharon popped her head through the door of Steve’s office after the knock she placed there. 

Steve just sighed as he closed one of a dozen tabs on his computer. Then he shook his head. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early!” She beamed and Steve just waved her off. 

The door fell shut once again and Steve moved to close a second tab. The one open beneath was the video footage of his home. It was paused because Steve had categorized it as ‘not suited for work’ once he saw you climb on his bed to straighten out the sheets and his dick reminded him just how deprived he really was. 

Looking at the paused video now, his pants tightened again. There you were, on all fours on his bed, tugging the sheet under the headboard side of his mattress - ass up and struggling. Fucking hell. 

His hand instinctively moved to his crotch to relieve some tension and then his eyes fell to his office door. Sharon had gone home. He was likely the only one left. His gaze wandered back to his computer screen and before he knew it, he was rubbing his hard cock through his pants. 

He groaned lowly at the feeling spreading through his body, the image on his screen just intensifying the scenarios he usually imagined when he got himself off. Because now they had your face. And your perfect body. If he squinted at the screen, he could actually see a sliver of your underwear peaking out the top of your pants. 

“Jesus Christ,” He pushed through his teeth when his hands worked to open his belt and pulled his rock-hard length out. He was already leaking from the angry red tip. 

His thumb grazed over his sensitive flesh, spreading the beads of precum and his whole body shivered when he imagined you doing it instead. His knees spread further apart in his office chair as he squeezed the base of his cock, concentrating on his breathing to slow. And then, without thinking, his other hand moved to play the video. 

Steve’s eyes never left the screen as he watched you tug the sheets tight. Your ass bounced up and down with the motion and he began to pump his shaft, imagining pushing into you from behind. Then you crawled back slowly, careful not to pull the sheet off again, but one corner came loose anyway. As you leaned forward, your new position seemed even more obscene - with your arms stretched forward and your ass still slightly lifted off the mattress. 

Steve’s fist pumped harder up and down his cock, he was panting. He could already feel the orgasm building. His balls were on the edge of bursting - but he wanted to hold out a little longer. 

For a second, his gaze jumped to the little speaker icon at the bottom right corner of his screen. His right hand still pumping with a tight grip, the left moved to slightly turn up the volume on the stream. 

Just then, you released a frustrated groan, followed by a throatier, softer noise that could almost be mistaken for a moan and Steve lost it. His fist stroked his thick cock in hard fast motions, the tingle in his body building with every heavy breath you released. His thumb grazed over his tip when you fell forward like a fawn and it was enough to make him burst. 

He closed his eyes and threw his head back on the chair. With a last firm push, he tumbled over the edge, squeezing his flesh as he felt the hot ropes of cum cover his hand. His heart beat in his ears once the ecstasy subsided, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths.  

Steve stared at the ceiling, sighing in defeat. He was in deep now. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“So... how’s it going?” Nat’s voice rang through your speaker and you pressed your phone a little harder to your ear to hear her over the street noises. 

“It’s going really good. I don’t see him that often but he’s not messy at all, so it’s really not that bad.”

“Good, I’m glad!” Nat cheered on the other end of the line and you could hear her computer keys clicking beneath her fingernails. “Anything you wanna tell me?” Her tone was suggestive, and you kind of hated how well she knew you. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, we’re stating the obvious here. He’s hot!”

“Nat!” You gasped appalled. “I’m not going around asking you if you think your boss is hot.”

“Why not? I'm not ashamed to admit it. My boss is hot,” she stated plainly and shorty after a distant ‘You got that right, doll!’ was heard through your speaker. 

“Oh my god,” you muttered, watching around you as if anyone could hear what Nat was saying. 

“So...?”

“Okay, yes he’s super hot and I wish he would just grab me with his big muscled arms and kiss the life out of me every time I see him. Are you happy now?”

“Yes, very.”

You waved at the concierge when you reached Mr. Roger’s apartment building and then stepped into the elevator. “Good. I can’t believe I just made me say that out loud.”

“We both know it’s true. No shame in a little crush.” You could practically hear her grin through the phone and it just annoyed you even more. How could she call you out when she was a mile away?

“Great, now I’m actually imagining kissing him and running my hands down his chest,” You huffed as the elevator door opened and turned the corner just to stop in your tracks. 

“I knew it!”

“Nat, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, but-“ and then you ended the call as your eyes were glued to the kitchen counter. 

You stepped closer, your eyes never leaving where they had landed upon your arrival. There, on the polished black marble, stood a vase with a beautiful bouquet of pastel flowers. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers traced the colorful petals, and you leaned in to smell them. This was so sweet! A little giddiness shot through your body at the sight of the flowers. You’d never expected them from Mr. Rogers and it was nice to be appreciated. 

Feeling excitement all over, your fingers reached for the little white card lodged between a eucalyptus branch. But when you turned it over, all of it fell like someone had turned on gravity again. 

Happy one month!

Your mind repeated the words over and over again until they registered.

Happy one month.

You dropped the card and it made a dull clicking noise on the counter. How could you have been so naïve? Nat had put this stupid haze in your brain, getting you all giddy and excited. Of course, he had a fucking girlfriend. How could he not? He was Steve fucking Rogers.

You needed to take a step back and breathe. Those were a few too many emotions to feel in the early morning for you. Now you even felt guilty about wanting to run your fingers down his body. God, you’d even said it out loud - how embarrassing! 

“Okay, girl. Relax. Nobody heard,” you reminded yourself out loud. And then you took a deep breath with your eyes closed. 

“It’s not embarrassing if nobody saw. I’m the only one that can decide the level of awkwardness here.” Maybe stop talking to yourself then. You nodded and carefully placed the card back in the bouquet. 

“This never happened,” you whispered, more so to ensure yourself. “Just move on with your day.” 

Thank god it wasn’t kitchen day - you wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of those flowers any longer.

With your shoulders pulled back and your head held high, you made your way to the supply closet and got to work. 

It’s just another day. You reminded yourself when you pulled your cleaning supplies out and into the office. 

Just like any other day...

❁ ❁ ❁

Boy, had you never been any more wrong. 

Your phone rang at 7.30 that evening. You had already made yourself comfortable on your sofa, ready to binge a whole season of Gilmore Girls, after a successful day of pretending you hadn’t gotten the biggest turn-down of the century this morning. You had finished your cleaning plan, you had gone grocery shopping, bought yourself some own damn flowers, and even showered all before the sun had set. 

But now your phone rang and the caller ID could not mean anything good. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening!” Your name echoed through the speaker of your phone, a - for your taste - way too cheery woman on the other end. “I am very sorry I have to call so late. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“That’s alright, what do you need?” You bit your lip nervously, only dreading the next words of Mr. Rogers’s assistant.

“Well, actually it is not I that needs anything. Mr. Rogers requested for you to see him. Is that possible?”

“What? When?”

“Now would be amazing.” Your eyes widened at her words. Mr Rogers wanted to see you and it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? You must have done something horribly wrong. Oh, god, had he noticed you messed with the flowers? Had he seen you sniff his pillows? All possible scenarios of wrongdoing swarmed your head when you sprung up and bolted for your closet. 

“I can be there in thirty minutes,” you hurried through the speaker just to receive a satisfied hum from the other end. 

“Amazing! Thank you so much.”

She had hung you before you could even answer. It didn’t matter. You looked through your clothes, trying to decide what an appropriate ‘getting fired’ outfit would consist of - probably no sweatpants, so you could find the closest bar and drink your sorrows away in connection to the dreaded talk. 

You pulled out something, you could see yourself crying in and headed for the door.

❁ ❁ ❁

8.00 pm on the dot, the elevator doors opened to reveal a beautiful New York Skyline. Unfortunately, you neither had the headspace, nor the time to appreciate it properly. As soon as you turned the corner you saw Mr. Rogers casually leaning on the kitchen island. 

Instantly, you felt intimidated. He had never done anything to make you feel scared or in danger, but his mere presence was so powerful, you didn’t quite know how to act around him. Especially, because on top of it all, he was the most attractive man you’d ever laid your eyes on. 

“What did I do?” It just sprung out of you, your arms wanted to hug your body but you willed them still. He didn’t need to see how worried you really were. 

To your surprise, however, his face scrunched up in amusement instead. He pushed himself off the counter and gestured towards the flowers still standing proud on that polished marble top. 

“You forgot your flowers.”

“My... my flowers?” He nodded with a small frown, probably confused by your reaction. And to be honest, you were too. 

“Yes... I got you flowers. You’ve officially been working here for a month. That’s a record.” He shook his head with a chuckle and then rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m... very picky.”

His eyes met yours and a whole new wave of uncertainty washed over you. You didn’t miss the hesitation in his tone, the carefully chosen wording for something he didn’t exactly say. 

“So, I’m not fired.” God, why did it take so long for you to register. You just looked so stupid right now. 

“On the contrary.” Mr. Rogers took a step closer, though still keeping a respectable distance. “I think I can trust you. I’m very pleased with your work. You deserve them.”

“I do?” You looked up at him with big eyes when he took another step closer. He was so tall, you had to tilt your head up now that he was so near. 

“Can I trust you?”

His chest would almost touched you, if you were to breathe any heavier. Your breath hitched in your throat when the faint remains of his perfume reached your nose. It was as intoxicating - the way his eyes stared down at you - intense and looming. “Ye- Yes.”

“Good.” His voice was a raw timbre. His gaze drifted to the side, where his hand slowly reached up to lay on your shoulder. You felt warm and tingly from the touch. 

Not knowing what to do exactly, you just held your breath and stared up at his eyes. They were so blue - and up close, they were so much more captivating than any magazine photograph could ever display. 

You wanted to touch him, reach out, and pull him down towards you, but he had just told you he trusted you. Were you really going to risk this perfectly good job for a heated moment?

His other hand came up to graze your cheek with a careful touch and the worry of losing your job suddenly became very small. Mr. Roger’s hands were warm, his fingers almost hot even compared to your heated face. 

So you did it. Your hand reached forward and landed on the top of his chest, one of them traveled down the hard plane of his torso while the other clawed at his shirt collar. His thumb traveled to your lower lip, pulling it down and then stroking over the soft flesh, touching your teeth as well. 

Guided by the heat traveling through our body, your right hand tightened around his shirt and pulled him down and onto your lips. The blonde man jerked forward until his mouth crashed onto yours, immediately moving in perfect sync with yours. 

Your insides were tingling from the kiss when you felt his lips pull into a smile. His big hands roamed your body until they snook around your back, pulling you flush against his body and making you sigh contently. 

Mr. Rogers chuckled and then kissed you deeper. His touch was everywhere, yours too. Your mind was free of anything that wasn’t the tall, built, blonde man in your arms as soon as his tongue traced your bottom lip - asking for you to let him in. And you did just that. When he began to explore your mouth, you melted even further into his embrace. 

No man had ever kissed you like that. Which was why you dreaded the moment you had to pull away for air. 

Your hand landed on his cheek, thumb softly stroking his beard, eyes locked with his. 

“You’re very good at this.”

He just chuckled and pecked your lips once more. “Up.” He demanded, suddenly, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you as if you weighed nothing. 

“What are you doing?”

“I'm gonna show you how good I am at this.” 

Then he set you down on the bed and pushed you back until your head hit the comforter. His scent, the one you’d secretly been craving ever since you started working here, engulfed you like a big blanket. He stood above you, big and broad-shouldered, looming over you like a wild animal. But you weren’t scared.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking and licking bruises to your skin until you moaned beneath him and your hands clung to his hair. “I’ve been watching you,” he murmured to your neck and a shiver traveled down your spine. 

“I knew it,” you gasped when he reached a spot behind your ears that sparked more pleasure. The thought of him spending his day watching you made you all excited and impatient. 

“The way you stumble about this place when you clean it... How do you navigate the world being this clumsy, Bambi?” A whimper escaped you at the nickname he chose for you. “You need somebody to take care of you, huh.” 

You arched your back to brush up against him. His hard cock was already straining his pants, pressing into your own deliciously. “Ah, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Bambi, I’m right here. I’ll take real good care of you.” His fingers traveled down your body until they reached the hem of your jeans and began to tug on them. 

You pulled him down to your lips once more, guiding his head back to that spot behind your ear that had you squirming on the sheets. “So needy.”

His voice was so low and husky now, you barely noticed he had already worked your pants open and halfway down your legs. You kicked them off the rest of the way and arched yourself back against him just to have him grind down on your core. 

“Feel so good, so big,” you mumbled through the haze you already found yourself in. God, what was it with this man - he was out of this world. 

“You can’t wait any longer, can you, Bambi?” His hands moved beneath your shirt and began to massage your breasts. “But I get it. I don’t wanna wait any longer, either.” 

In a swift motion, he had you flipped on your stomach, his hands traveling to your hips to pull you on all fours in front of him. Then the bed dipped and you felt his fingers press to your soaked underwear. He rubbed the drenched fabric over your entrance, only driving you wild with need when his fingers reached higher to your clit. “So pretty.” 

“I need you,” you whined, “need you so bad.” 

“Believe me, I need you too.” He pulled the black lace over the curve of your ass and you felt the cool bedroom air hit your wet core, only making you shiver once more. 

“You’re so fucking perfect, you know that.” You could only whimper in response when his hand pushed your head into the comforter and his face suddenly pressed into your pussy from behind. 

“Oh, god.” A yelp escaped you as his tongue teased at your entrance, only to be pulled back to lick a long strip from your clit back to it. His hand massaged your cheeks and the constant moaning to your core shook you from the inside out. 

“This isn’t enough, is it, Bambi?” He dragged a strong finger up your spine. “You need me to fill you all the way up, don’t you? Need me to mark you, show everyone you’re mine.”

“Yes, yes, fill me up, give it all to me. Fuck me and make me yours.” You were so desperate at this point. His mouth had you squirming and aching for the promising bulge beneath his pants and you couldn’t wait to feel him raw - you’d let him do anything. 

You turned your head and watched as he unbuckled his belt. Within seconds, his cock sprung free from its restraints and your breath hitched in your throat. He was thick and long, a prominent vein running along his side up to his tip, pink and already decorated by a bead of precum. Of course, Steve Rogers had a pretty cock. What wasn’t perfect about him?

“You’re so wet already, Bambi. So ready for my fat cock, aren’t you? You’ll suck me right in, I just know it.”

“Please! I wanna feel all of you.” Another whimper got swallowed by the mattress when you waited in anticipation for him to finally fuck you. 

His one hand grabbed your ass and the other aligned his cock with your entrance. You could feel his head already breaching, a delicious stretch sending shocks through your body in hot and cold waves of pleasure. 

He groaned lowly and it sent shivers down your spine. “Relax, baby girl. You’re so tight. You’ll be so stuffed with me.”

“I need you de-. I- ah just please!”

He worked himself forward with small rocking motions, each time reaching a little deeper into your core and when you thought he was finally all the way in, he pushed even further until your ass was pressed flush to his thighs. 

You screamed into the covers and reached for something to grasp when he groaned behind you. “Gripping me like a vice, Bambi. Are you gonna be able to take it?” He shivered behind you and you could tell he was struggling to hold still until you answered him. 

“I can take it. Your big cock feels so good inside me. Oh, god, please move.”

“Fuck.” Wet noises filled the room when he drew back almost all the way, just to slam back into you. In this position the curve of his cock stroked your walls perfectly, making it hard to hold back the building orgasm. 

“I’m so close already, sir. I’m-”

“Fucking call me Steve,” he roared and pushed your face further into the covers. “You gonna come? Gonna squeeze my cock with your pretty little pussy already, huh?”

You could only whimper in response, the steady stroke of his body clouded your mind until you felt like you were floating. 

“I-“Another scream ripped through your speech when the pleasure exploded within you. Steve slowed his motions, seemingly unable to move with the way your muscles contracted around him. And when the pulsing pleasure lessened after what felt like minutes, he picked his pace back up again. 

“That was so sexy. You gonna do that again for me? I’m so fucking close.”

His hand reached around you and began to massage your clit in tight little circles and your body lifted off the bed. Steve had pulled you up flush against his chest and watched his hand work on your clit over your shoulder. 

“’S too much! Ah!” You were still pulsing around his cock with every circle he traced on your bundle of nerves, making your legs quiver.

“You’re doing so good, Bambi. You can give me another. Milk my cock dry.” He kissed your neck and bit your skin. “So fucking beautiful, how’d I get so lucky?”

“Steve!” You felt another wave of pleasure approaching, just for his fingers to still on your clit, his hand now pressing into your stomach. 

“I’m almost there, baby. Hold it a little longer.” His face fell into your neck and you could feel his cock twitch inside you while his hot breath licked down your shoulder. “Don’t you fucking cum until I say so.”

“I don’t know if I-“

“Yes, you can!” Steve pushed you until you fell onto all fours again and then guided your hips to meet his hard strokes. His movements became frantic and fast, making you lose your mind. 

“I’m gonna fill you to the brim, Bambi. Make you drip with my cum for days. You’re mine.”

“Steve! Steve!” You couldn’t hold it any longer, it was too much. He was so big, and his movements so fast, there was no way you were lasting any longer. 

“Wait. Almost there.”

“I can’t. I can’t! I’m- Oh my god!”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuck.” With one last hard slam, Steve shot his hot seed in your pussy. Your walls clenched with every lewd sound he pushed through his heavy breaths. “Cumming so much for you, Bambi. All for you. Uhnggghh.” He rutted into you a couple more times and once the intense feeling faded into lazy pulses, he fell forward and pulled you into his chest. 

Still buried deep within you, Steve pulled the covers over your bodies. Every little movement made you squirm and your pussy clench down again, drawing small grunts from the man behind you. 

“You did so good.” His hand stroked over your hair and his face nuzzled into your shoulder. “Now, rest. You deserve it.”

And with that, you let your body fall into its well-needed sleep - warm, content, and without a care for the morning.

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve woke up to the sound of his alarm. He smiled before he opened his eyes, his mind still reminiscing the night before. He felt warm and content at the thought of it. Your kiss was like nothing else.

He felt around his bed blindly after turning off the alarm only to be met by a cold mattress. Opening his eyes, he called out your name and sat up in bed. But when no answer sounded from his apartment, he got up and looked for you. After a few minutes of searching, he was sure you weren’t there. And it worried him. He had planned to order you breakfast. He wanted to talk about last night. He wanted to tell you how much it had meant to him. 

A look at the clock on his wall made him frown. Maybe you’d gone home to change for work. He decided to wait and get to work a little later today. It would all resolve itself, Steve was sure. 

But when seven rolled around, there was no sign of you. And even after another 25 minutes, there was no indication you’d show up soon. Steve really couldn’t push his time anymore. There was a lot of work waiting for him at the office. So he got up and grabbed his briefcase, only to be interrupted by his phone. 

“Good morning, Sharon.” 

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I’m just calling to let you know your maid just called in sick.”

“What? Until when?”

“She didn’t say. But she’ll call when she is better.”

“Do you know what she has?”

“I believe that’s private. Mr. Rogers.”

Steve just hummed absentmindedly. His brain already playing all the possibilities in his head. 

“Would you be so kind so send me her number?” He asked almost hesitantly, but still demanding enough for Sharon to agree right away. 

“Of course, one second.” And then his phone pinged with a message from his assistant. 

“Thank you.” Sharon just hummed in response and then she hung up the phone, ever the busy assistant he knew her as. 

Steve didn’t hesitate to call you right away. With every peep. His heart hammered faster in his chest. And when he was about to give up, a familiar rustling rang through his speaker. 

“Hello?”

Steve took a second to breathe and then he said your name - steady but careful. 

“Mr Rogers,” you sounded surprised, and Steve tried to suppress the sting in his heart at the sound of his last name. You had called him Steve just last night. Why’d you stop?

“Yes... I heard you’re sick. Do you need anything?” He cringed the second he said it. You obviously didn’t want anything from him given that you had fled from his apartment before he even woke up this morning. 

“No, no. I’m good thank you.” There was an awkward tension in the static connecting the two of you. But Steve didn’t understand where it came from. Had you not enjoyed last night. Had he only imagined the affection you gifted him then?

“Well... I hope you are able to come back soon.”

You huffed into the phone. “Uh, yes. Okay.”

“Alright, then. I’ll see you.”

“I’ll see you.”

And then the line went dead. And Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that you had sounded a lot colder than before...

❁ ❁ ❁

Steve had taken the next day off. His mind was too occupied to work, anyway. He had caught himself glimpsing at his video feed several times that day, even though he knew you weren’t going to show. He guessed, somehow that you would appear anyway. It didn’t happen of course.

So today, Steve had to learn to do nothing. That included not thinking of you as well. Because as much as the thought of you distracted him from work, not working wasn’t exactly the best move to get rid of his thoughts. 

First, he had tried to stay in bed until 6. That was hard enough. Then, he worked out a bit, read an article, made a smoothie - okay he ordered one - and then he sat on his sofa watching as the clock above his fireplace ticked to 7 a.m. 

It was ridiculous. If every hour would pass this slowly, he’d go insane.

His fingers taped on his thigh as he watched the seconds hand tick. He had to do something, anything. 

The moment this thought passed his mind, he heard the elevator door ‘ding’ at his level. And before he could even turn around, your bag hit the ground with a loud thud. 

Steve stood up straighter, adjusting a tie he was not wearing, but the motion had become a habit. He was excited you’d shown up - visibly well and healthy that was. 

You stared at him for a solid minute and neither of you said a word. Your stare was unintelligible to Steve. He had to admit, that he didn’t know you well enough to read into your silent conversation yet, but he wanted to - he wanted to so badly. 

His hands moved to clasp in front of him and then he cleared his throat, but as he was about to say something, you moved past him, straight to the supply closet, and then disappeared into his guest bedroom. 

He followed you before he could tell his feet to stop, halting in the doorway of the room and watching as you dusted off the tall shelves above the sideboard. 

“What are you doing?” His voice was higher than he anticipated. 

“I’m working,” you answered bluntly, moving to the next object to dust off. 

“Why?” Steve had promised to provide for you just the other night. And, yes, while he might have been hazy from the incredible pleasure you had created, he had meant every word.

You suddenly turned to him with an angry stare. “I’m working because, unlike other people, I can’t just do whatever I want and not deal with the consequences,” you spat and then turned around again. The dusting motion turned a little more aggressive and Steve felt a cold shiver run down his back. Feisty.

Though, Steve couldn’t quite place your anger. Had he said something to offend you? How did the other night play into any consequences and why the hell were you working still? You’d said it yourself, you wanted to be his. And that was all he ever wanted. It just didn’t make sense.

Steve didn’t move. He just stood there like an idiot and watched you work your anger away on the poor dusty decorations of his home. You obviously didn't want to talk to him and he had no idea what to say to you. So he just watched... and watched until at least ten minutes had gone by. 

You were at a completely different corner of the room by now, trying to grab a book to dust off, but couldn’t quite reach. Steve had been standing in the doorway this whole time so he just assumed he was blocking your way to a ladder. But he took it as an opportunity instead. 

In three Long strides, he had walked up to you, reached for the item you stretched toward, and handed it to you. And for a second there, he could see those doe eyes return to your face, staring up at him.

Maybe he had misread the situation after all because your gaze drew him in again. He slowly closed his eyes before he could reach your lips, excitement rising in his veins when he thought back to the feeling of your lips on his–

*smack*

His eyes shot open when your hand collided with his cheek, a fire flickering in your eyes that made him take a step back, holding his heated skin. 

“You don’t have to mock me, okay?! I know it’s embarrassing and it’s stupid what we did, so please don’t make this more difficult.”

“What?” Steve was baffled, hurt. 

It was stupid what we did. Your words echoed in his mind until your voice penetrated the mantra. 

“Just leave me alone. Don’t you have work to do?”

He shook his head with an aching heart. You really had no idea. You thought he had used you, made you a bed bunny like Tony or Bucky would - he’d never do that. “I called in sick. I was so... forget it.”

You resumed cleaning and Steve just stood in your way watching. His chest stung with every second he spent with his eyes glued to you, knowing what you thought of him. He couldn’t stand it. He never wanted to make you uncomfortable, much less convey he’d only use you. 

“Can I ask you a question?” You ignored him, but he could see your movements stagger for a second. “Do you really regret what we did?”

Then you paused, your eyes trained to the surface in front of you. When you finally looked at him, Steve could see the tears shimmering in them. 

“No,” you whispered softly, Steve had almost missed it had his heart not skipped a beat. 

He instinctively stepped closer to you again, though cautious not to scare you away. He’d come this far and didn’t want to mess it all up again. “Then why are you ignoring me?”

“I'm not ignoring you.” It shot out of you like a bullet. You sighed, took another breath, and set the duster down. “We don’t know each other. We live in completely different worlds. There is not one scenario in which we could exist together as anything more than... this. I know that now.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m just the maid.” You gestured to Steve and then yourself and Steve hated the way you degraded yourself just because he had a couple dollars more in his bank account. It wasn’t right. 

He shook his head, his hand reaching out to you but dropping just before he could actually touch you, curbing into a soft fist instead. “And what if I told you that you are much more to me than that?” Now he finally dared to lay his hand on your cheek, tilting your head so he could come closer to you and still stare into your eyes. “I like you. And the night– ever since you came into my life, my days seem just so much less dull.” 

He smiled with shiny eyes, afraid your silence would last forever. “Please say something, Bambi.”

“You like me?” There was awe and disbelief in your voice and Steve wanted to kiss it away until every last doubt was erased from your mind. Whoever had made you this insecure about affection would eat his fist. 

Steve bit his lip to hide the chuckle threatening to spill. “I do.”

He slowly got lost in your eyes again. Those beautiful innocent orbs looked at him like he was a different type of special. He loved it so much. 

His gaze dropped to your lips, slightly parted and full, and then back up. And before he could lose himself in them again, your hands latched onto his collar and pulled him down toward you. 

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, need and desperation melting into sighs and tingles - he could feed off of it forever. His hands roamed your body and pressed you deeper into his. Your arms reached around his neck as your noses bumped against each other in eager anticipation. 

Nothing ever felt this right. Steve couldn’t possibly believe you’d doubted the chemistry for a second. Not when it felt like that. But he wouldn’t need to think back on it anymore now... now that he finally had you.

I couldn't decide which GIF to use, so here are some extras!

If you’ve read this far, I would be so happy to receive a comment or reblog. It helps writers reach more people in the community and also improve themselves. So, if you have the time, please consider giving me some feedback :) until next time ~Meg 💞

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♡ Cooking & Cleaning; Art Donaldson x Reader ♡

nsfw! (18+) cw: service sub!art donaldson, dom!reader, afab/fem reader, use of ma'am as an honorific, brief food play, oral sex (reader receiving), begging, handjob, brief edging, praise, degradation, multiple orgasms (character receiving), dry orgasm

wc: 6.3 k (whoops)

note: this was pulled from the most depraved parts of my brain. i refuse to be held accountable for the absolute filth this contains ! :)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆. ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆.

The very second that your key is in the apartment door and you're finally home, you find your legs nearly collapsing underneath you as you step inside and kick off your black kitten heels.

"God," you groan, shutting the door behind you before you move to peel your chic new blazer off of your shoulders. You toss it onto the coatrack nearby and bring a handful of your fingers up to your forehead to rub at it tensely, sighing deeply.

It had been a long day at the USTA (United States Tennis Association) office, and all you wanted to do was come home and see your husband.

-

After Art had lost several important and consecutive tennis matches, as well as his confidence on the court (despite his actual tennis skills still being phenomenal -- he just psyched himself out too much), he had decided to give up his life as a professional athlete.

At first, this devastated you. Not only did you love your partner and believe in him throughout his career, as well as believing in his very real ability to eventually win the US Open, but this decision of his also meant that your position as his coach would become obsolete..

You actually became quite anxious about you and Art's future at the time.. you had needed a purpose, and so did he. You both were just those kinds of people; you and him both wanted to feel that you were contributing to something bigger than just yourselves, and that you were being useful to someone or something.

Luckily, his many previous years of successful tennis playing had scored you and him a shit ton of wealth. Like, genuinely a lot. You were beyond grateful, but you still wanted a life of your own. You didn't dare to think about the idea of becoming a stay-at-home wife while he went out and did whatever he wanted. Yuck. It just wasn't for you.

Your fears and inner turmoil about this change in your lives were quickly eased once Art had sat you down about two weeks after he had left his tennis career behind. He had taken your hands in his, smiled softly like he always did, and told you that he wanted to stay at home and take care of everything in it while you went out and continued your career in the field of professional athletics.

Of course, you immediately and excitedly agreed with the idea of this new plan, and then that was that!

You two developed new lives and new roles as people over a short period of time, but it didn't take away from the love you two shared. That always stayed consistent and at the center of everything.

Eventually, after a month or so of coming home from your new job to Art doing things like vacuuming the wooden floors of your guys' expensive New York apartment, or making elaborate protein-packed smoothies for the gym sessions that you two still did together, you came to realize that the whole "house husband" persona was actually kinda hot.

He had realized it too. Quicker than you had, actually. In fact, he can distinctly remember the overwhelming feeling of heat that had pooled deep in his gut the first time he had ever served you a home-cooked meal after you came home from a long day at your new job. He had gently rubbed your sore feet that night while you ate, and then suddenly couldn't find a way to deny how this new practice of.. servicing you.. made him feel.

I mean, God, he loved doing that stuff for you.. cooking.. tidying.. pampering.. washing.. he would do it all. You knew that he worshipped the ground that you walked on—reminding yourself constantly of the time he had admitted to you during sex that he believed he would be "nowhere without you"—and you devoured the increased sense of power that came with it every. single. time. It eventually became very easy and comfortable for you to let him take care of you. You grew hungry for it.

And then this persona of his, over time, dissolved into something much more intimate..

-

After tossing your blazer on the rack and rubbing at your temples, you drag your pantyhose-covered feet across the floor and into the kitchen.

Your nose is instantly filled with the aroma of fluffy, vanilla sweetness and a bit of nutmeg. you sigh happily as you turn the corner and see Art standing over a mess of what appears to be flour and sugar in a large bowl on the kitchen counter. He looks over his shoulder briefly with a smile as he mixes the dry ingredients together with a whisk.

“Hey, hon,” he grins, before turning back to look down at his current baking project.

you shuffle up behind him and hug him, your cheek pressing against his warm upper back as your arms reach to wrap gently around his abdomen. You sigh deeply.

“Hey, babe.. ‘m so tired. It was such a long day.”

He laughs softly, which shakes you a bit as you hold him.

“What’d your colleagues do now?”

You shake your head against him, groaning dramatically.

“I don’t want to talk about it.. what are you baking? It smells good in here.”

“Nothing crazy, it’s just some holiday cookies. I found the recipe online this morning after you left.”

“How many are you planning to make? There’s already some in the oven.” you ask, peeking around his frame from behind to see him set the bowl aside and wipe his hands on the apron he’s wearing. (It was white with small pink hearts by the pockets. You got it for him when he started cooking for you everyday, and he used to feel weird about it. He said it made him feel “slightly emasculated”, but he quickly grew to absolutely adore it. It was just another way for you to claim him as your personal chef. One night before you got home, he jerked off while wearing it, but he would never tell you that.)

“I don’t really know,” he shrugs and chuckles sheepishly, “there are twelve baking right now, but I thought that maybe I could make some for our neighbors.”

You chuckle softly, your hands disconnecting from their place on his stomach to reach down and give his ass a small squeeze. He jumps a little at the feeling, embarrassed laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Where’d all this holiday cheer come from?” you smirk, pulling back from your position against his back to lean your hip against the counter. You just wanted to look at his pretty face. Your eyes quickly fixate on the fact that he’s got a bit of flour on his flushed cheek.. It’s only a small puff and smear of the white substance near his jaw, but for some reason it starts a flame in your lower stomach. There was just something about the way he got a little messy when he cooked or baked for you.

His cheeks plump up in shape ever-so-slightly as he grins at you.

“I don’t know.. I had time before you got home- I mean, well, before i thought you’d get home, and so i thought I’d just-”

You take a step forward, nodding at his words while your body is now only inches from his. You look up into his glassy blue eyes.

“You thought you’d just.. what?” you purr, your hand coming up to caress his lower back.

He swallows thickly, briefly looking down at the mess on the counter before he looks back to you. His body temperature is steadily rising as he feels your fingertips caress him over his loose t-shirt.

“I just thought I’d make some more,” he whispers.

You lean in, reaching your other hand up to gingerly hold the side of his neck while you press a kiss to it.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?”

He nods, slowly, his eyelids fluttering slightly at the feeling of your mouth on him.

“I..I mean, yeah, I guess.”

You lean in a bit more, sucking softly at his neck. His head lolls a bit forward, and you nip at him when the sound of his shaky breathing reaches your ears.

You pull back, a small smirk covering your face as you look up at him.

His focus darts from your eyes to your lips as he reaches both of his hands out for your waist, but he’s rudely interrupted when the timer for the oven goes off— cookies are done.

You both nearly jump out of your skin at the sound; the incessant beeping pulling you both out of the thick fog of tension between your bodies and minds.

“Shit,” he mumbles, flushing pink from his cheeks to the tips of his ears as he turns off the timer at the top of the oven and moves to hastily grab an oven mitt from the lower drawer.

He pulls open the oven door, and you step back to watch him pull the tray out and set it on top of the stove area.

He sighs, pulling off the mitt and setting it aside as he leans over the cookies. His eyes are inspecting each one, and he has a very focused expression plastered on his face. He was as much of a perfectionist in the kitchen as he used to be on the court, that was for sure.

Your body moves in to stand beside him, also peering down at the tray of gorgeous golden-brown cookies. You place a hand on his upper back, rubbing it encouragingly.

“These look incredible,” you say, smiling at him.

He nods, still inspecting them, “They look better than I thought they would.. I actually messed up earlier and accidentally added three-fourths of a cup of sugar instead of two-thirds..”

“They look perfect, don’t stress.”

He looks to you, his gaze meeting yours and then suddenly everything was back to how it was before the timer went off. His hands reach for your waist, squeezing at your hips as he looks lovingly down at you.

“Be proud of yourself, Art.. you did a good job,” you laugh softly, your hands reaching up to cup his face. He pulls you closer.

“I am.”

“Are you?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

You suddenly get a very filthy idea.

“Can.. can you tell me what the recipe called for?”

His brows furrow slightly as he seems taken aback by your request, his cock already starting to stir to life in his sweatpants just from holding your body. He didn’t want to talk about the damn cookies anymore.

“What?”

You roll your eyes, one of your hands dropping from his face to reach around the fabric of the front of his apron and grope him over his sweats. Your other hand moves down too, but just to gently hold the side of his torso. His whole body jolts forward and his lips part instantly.

“You’ll like where this is headed, trust me. Just talk to me.. tell me what you did to make the cookies look so perfect..”

He breathes unsteadily, his fingers digging into your waist as he feels your hand start to work his cock up to a full-blown, hot, twitchy erection.

“I.. uhm.. I just..” he breathes out, his eyes growing lidded as he absentmindedly bucks up against your touch, still trying to maintain eye contact as pleasure starts to flood his senses, “one cup of b-butter.. ngh-!.. two cups.. two cups of flour… and then- ugh!- two.. two-thir-r-ds.. of..”

His voice trails off, shaky and low and broken as he hangs his head a bit, leaking incessantly into his boxers. It was that easy for you to work him up.

You frown, “Uh oh.. come on, baby, don’t go nonverbal on me that quick.. we’ve just barely gotten started…”

A small whimper leaves his chest as he tries to finish his words, “Two-thirds, I m-mean- three-f-fourths of a c-cup of.. s-su.. sugar… one teasp’of vanilla.. and.. o-one.. teaspoon of nutm-eg.”

You smile, stroking his cock over the fabric of his pants, “Good boy.. God, you’re so pretty when you’re slurring for me..”

He moans obscenely, melting at the praise while he feels his length grow suddenly intensely hot. A certain kind of numbness starts to creep over his crotch before his hands are flying from your hips to your wrist.

“Wait! W-Wait!” he gasps, his eyes squeezing shut as he blows a concentrated shaky breath from his lips, his fingertips digging into your arm.

Your eyebrow lifts and you smile as you take in the way his body shakes and shudders as he holds it in for you. He knows how to behave.. what would make you happy.. what would make you disappointed.. After all, he’s been trained by you in more than just tennis.

“Close?” you whisper.

His body starts to slowly relax again as he regains some of his composure. He blinks his eyes back open slowly, looking into yours.

“Very,” he groans.

You pull your hands from his body, and he whines softly.

“Take off the apron. Put it on the floor.”

You’re sure you’ve never seen him move so fast— his hands reaching behind his back and undoing the tied string. Then, he pulls the apron off over his head, tossing it off to the side. He watches you study him with parted lips, and he bites onto his own.

“Now take your sweats off for me.”

He does as he’s told; his shaky fingers reaching down to slip his pants down to his lower thighs, and then down to his knees and ankles, and then he steps out of them. He kicks them gently next to where the apron was thrown, now making a mess of grey and white fabric where both items pooled on the kitchen floor.

You step close to his body, cupping his face before running a hand through his messy strawberry-blonde locks. But it doesn’t take long for your eyes to travel solely down to the bulge prominently pressing against the inside of his navy boxer briefs. You run a fingertip up and over the outline of his dick, relishing in the way it makes him shake. He was now just in his tee shirt, boxers, and white socks, while you stayed fully clothed. But not for too much longer.

"My pretty husband.." you coo to him, making his lips part to let out a few uneven breaths. You glance around his frame and notice a bowl off to the side that had remnants of the soft cookie dough from the first batch of the cookies. You smirk.

You lean forward and swipe your thumb along the inside of the bowl, gathering some of the sugary, buttery mixture on your digit. His gaze remains lidded and locked onto your face, not finding any importance in your hand's movements at the kitchen counter. You bring your thumb back in, showing him what you did.

He spares your thumb a quick glance, but then his eyes are back on yours, and then your lips, and then the way that your breasts are peeking out from the low-cut collar of your work top. You bring your thumb up to his mouth.

"Open," you whisper.

He does as he's told, parting his lips further and leaning in to encourage your finger to slip past them.

You push your cookie dough-covered thumb into his mouth, feeling him immediately begin to suckle on it; his tongue swirled over it, and his eyes fluttered shut right after they began to roll back. His brows furrow, and a couple of faint whines bubble up out of him as the taste of his homemade sweetness melts seamlessly on his palate.

While your thumb is in his mouth, you push it down softly on his tongue.

"Knees, baby," you say breathlessly.

Art knew this command like the back of his hand.

Effortlessly and steadily, he dropped down to his knees one after the other, keeping your digit in his mouth the entire time. He didn't dare let it go. He moved to sit on his calves.

"Good job.. good boy..."

He whimpered, the vibrations of his pathetic sounds causing your hand to buzz slightly.

"I want your mouth on my cunt.. can you do that for me, darling?" you purr, running your hand through his hair for a moment. He nods around you.

"Y'sh, m'm.." he mumbled, trying his best to speak while still relishing your touch with enough attention.

You pull your thumb from the heat of his wet mouth, and smirk as you watch his lips chase after it.

"What was that?"

You already had a good idea about what he had murmured, but it was just.. best to be sure.

"Yes, ma'am," he gasps out softly, his eyes glazed over.

He reaches up and pulls at your skirt, shimmying it down and over your ass and thighs, letting it fall to your ankles. You kick it aside, and lean your back against the countertop. Art positions himself on his knees so that he's on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. His hands shakily reach up to the sides of your pantyhose, his tongue licking out over his bottom lip. He digs his fingers into the taut fabric and looks up at you once more, beginning to pull them down.

Immediately you grab his wrists, halting his movements. His eyes look up into yours, worried that he had made a wrong move, but you shake your head with a soft smile.

"You can rip them."

He doesn't even mean to, but he moans when you give him permission to be a little desperate right now.

In an instant, his strong hands are pulling needily at your tights, causing them to rip from your crotch to your lower thighs. He hooks one of his index fingers into the inside of your panties, his thighs tensing up at the feeling of your wetness, and then he's pushing them to the side. His tongue rests out over his bottom lip as he leans in, holding the back of your leg with his free hand as his eyes flutter shut and he engulfs your heat with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck-!" you yelp, reaching down to tangle your hands in his soft curls, "fuck, fuck, that feels good, Art, don't stop.."

He moans, his eyes squeezed shut as he lathes his tongue up and down and over your wet hole. He lewdly sucks and swallows your slick that's quickly spilling over his tongue, trying to focus harder on your pleasure (and less on the feeling of his cock throbbing rapidly in his boxers.. he can feel himself leaking).

You remove your hands from his hair and move to unsteadily grip the countertop, your back pressing hard against it. Art hums around you in his mouth, moving his tongue up to lick sloppily at your clit. He opens his eyes, his brows furrowed, and looks up at you.

"God, you're so good at this.. you're doing so well.. i'm getting.. close.." you breathe out, studying the upper half of his face while the lower half remains buried in your pussy.

He doubles his efforts, smushing his face deeper against you, his lips pursing to suckle against your sensitive nub as his grip on your leg tightens. Art has half a mind at that moment to just scoot forward a bit and slot your ankle between his thighs, but he won't. You came first, in his mind. Literally, and figuratively.

You sling the leg that he's holding over his shoulder, giving him more access, and then you begin to feel an overwhelming, hot numbness creep over your lower half..

"ANGH!" you moan loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as your body begins to shake. Your fingers grip the kitchen counter so hard that you're afraid you'll break a nail.

"I'm going to cum, Art..!"

"Mm! Mm-mm!"

"I'm.. oh my god.... I'm... I'm-! Cumming-!" you whine, feeling your orgasm crash over you.

"MM-!" he laps at your pulsing cunt, squeezing his eyes shut before forcing them open so that he can watch the way your beautiful face moves to contort in ecstasy.

You groan and whine as your orgasm's aftershocks are uncomfortably prolonged by Art's relentless tongue, and your hands release the marble countertop to reach down and grab two soft fistfuls of his hair. You try to tug his head back from your cunt, but he just closes his eyes and presses his nose and mouth further against your core. The repetitive movements of his tongue over your folds cause lewd, wet noises to fill the kitchen.

"Art... A-Art..! Enough!" you slur out as the pleasure from before starts to melt into a prickly sting of oversensitivity.

His eyes flutter open and you shoot him a warning glance as he peers up at you.

"I said enough, yeah? " you snap, "stand up."

He immediately pulls his mouth away from your sticky body and stands up on shaky legs. His eyes look downward, guiltily avoiding your gaze, as he wipes at the clear slick covering his chin with the back of his hand.

You try to catch your breath for a moment, studying his chest as it heaves up and down -- him trying to catch his breath all the same. You reach out and take his lower jaw softly in one hand, forcing him to look at you properly.

"You got a little fucking greedy there for a minute.. didn't you?"

He bites his bottom lip for a second, nervously chewing on the inside of it as he debates what answer he could give that would result in the least amount of punishment from you.

"Did you hear what I said?" you whisper coldly, taking a step closer to him as your hand grazes against the erection standing proudly in his underwear.

His body automatically jolts forward, and he lets out a shaky breath as his brow twitches. "Yeah.. I did.." he huffs out.

You smirk, wrapping your hand around him over the dark blue fabric, "And what do you think, hm? Were you being greedy?"

He looks deep into your eyes, his lips parting as he feels you start to stroke him. He tries to stop it, but his hips start to shallowly buck against your grasp, and now he can't get any words out. He wants to, but he just.. he really can't.

You roll your eyes.

"You know what I want you to say, honey. Use that big brain of yours."

He moans softly, his hands coming up to hold the sides of your upper arms as his eyes grow lidded.

"I'm.. I was being greedy.. I'm greedy," he moans lowly, thrusting into your hand a bit quicker and with a tad bit more abandon.

"Yeah, yeah you are. You're a greedy little whore for this, aren't you?"

He nods slowly but repeatedly as his brows pinch together and his breathing picks up.

"Yesss," he says brokenly, his voice straining a little as his moans start to become whimpers and whines, "I'm.. s' greedy for you.. jus' for you.. mm..!"

You nod and smirk up at him as his face becomes pinker and pinker, "That's it, pretty boy.. good job. You like when I stroke your pretty cock?"

He lets out an obscenely loud moan as his abdomen curls in over itself a bit, his hands gripping the sleeves of your work top and pulling helplessly at the fabric as he feels a spurt of precome burst into the inside of his boxers.

You chuckle a little as you watch him visibly get closer to his climax, but then he suddenly releases the hold on one of your sleeves and urgently grabs the hand that's moving over his clothed length.

You look down to where his hand holds yours, and he lets out a filthy whimper as he pulls your touch off of him and then urgently pushes your hand past his waistband and down into the front of his boxers. You gasp at his seemingly impulsive actions, feeling your fingers finally come into contact with his slicked-up cockhead. Your fingertips just barely brush over his hot, leaking slit.. sliding over a thick glob of pre.. and then he's being sent over the edge. To the average person, the touch would be essentially imperceptible, but not to him.. not to Art. He was just far too sensitive.

Your husband lets out a startled cry as he doubles over your frame in front of him and frantically moans, his whole body trembling and tensing as his balls draw up, "I'm cumming!"

You don't even have time to really process what's happening until you feel your hand being covered in warm fluid, the substance dripping down your fingertips as Art basically comes untouched. You look up at him, dumbfounded, before you feel your abdomen grow warm and tingly. That was kinda.. hot?

"Jesus, baby," you whisper breathlessly as his hips jolt a few more times before stilling as he gulps air down into his lungs, "didn't realize you were that worked up.. that was a little quick, no?"

He moans softly, still feeling your fingers graze him inside of his boxers.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." he says, his breathing hitching in his throat as he tries to get the words out in spite of the pleasure still thrumming through his veins. He was still rock hard.

You smile, quickly using your clean, opposite hand to pull his boxers down to his lower thighs. His length slaps up lightly against his stomach before bobbing out in front of him, a tiny pearl-like bead of cum still leaking from his tip. He sighs shakily as he looks down at himself, and then up at you. You wrap your cum-covered hand around the base of his shaft, causing Art to jerk forward from sensitivity. He pulls a sharp breath in, his face scrunching up a little as he tries to control his body.

"I'll let you cum again," you start, watching his eyes light up, "but! you need to give me a warning this next time, okay? I want a clear warning, love."

He nods at your words, a more serious expression plastering over his face, "I will, I promise.. I.. I can give you a proper warning, ma'am.." he whispers.

And with that, you slide your hand from his base to his tip in one smooth motion, your thumb gliding over the head.

"GAH-!" he shudders forward, hissing in pain for a moment before he starts to moan again.

"You okay? Can you handle this?" you ask, your tone soft but seductive as you try to tease him but also legitimately check in. You two were always good at looking out for the other's wellbeing during your sessions together; the exchange of love and tender-care came easily to you both-- it was never something either of you had to question.

He nods, "Yeah, yes-ss, I can t-take it.." he slurs a little, watching your hand move up and down over his throbbing length.

"Look up into my eyes, darling," you purr, your hand starting to pick up speed, "does it feel good?"

He meets your eyes, his blue ones swimming with lust and desperation as he felt the beginnings of his second orgasm start to creep in, "Yes, fuck-! Yes! It feels so fucking good--!" he whines.

"Remember what we just talked about?"

He nods fervently, sucking his plump bottom lip in between his teeth as his focus darts from one of your eyes to the other. You speed up your hand, squeezing his shaft a little more to give him some pressure that you assume he needs.

He keens instantly, a loud moan rumbling from his chest as his thighs start to shake and his eyes squeeze shut.

"Art," you murmur in a seductive but warning tone.

He shakes all over, nodding his head, before his back stiffens up and he becomes incredibly tense. You keep your hand moving at the same fast pace, hoping his memory today is as good as his stamina.

"I'm going to cum," he whispers quickly, bringing his hands up to hold onto your shoulders as he pulls you closer.

You smile in approval, leaning in close to his ear and breathing warmly against his skin as you speak softly, "thank you for telling me, angel. do you want to cum for me?"

He nods, whining out a hasty "mhm". He lets out a breathy moan as he feels your hot words against his upper neck.

You press a chaste kiss there, and then you slide your hand up to gently grip his shaft while your thumb moves to rapidly swipe over his frenulum.

"Come."

And he does just that.

Art's back arches as soon as your one commanding word reaches his ears, cumming uncontrollably with an abrupt cry of pleasure. At first, his body is incredibly rigid as he lets go, his brows pinched up together as he feels the first, pulsing waves of his orgasm hit him, but then the full sensation of his release hits him and his whole body shudders deeply. He lets out little breathy moans and gasps as he relishes in the bursts of pleasure rolling over his cock. You slow your thumb down a bit as you watch him spurt rope after rope over your hand and onto the kitchen floor as he comes undone for you a second time.

"Fucking hell," you moan, now going back to stroking him fully instead of just rubbing a digit against his tip.

He grits his teeth in an instant, being pulled from his afterglow by the feeling of your hand forcing him back into a feeling of overstimulation. "Ah-! Ah!.. T-Too much, too much," he whimpers, his hands instinctively reaching down from your shoulders to push at your hand that's currently working him towards a third, uncomfortable orgasm that he's not even sure he wants anymore.

You use the hand that's not stroking him to move his hands away from your occupied one, giving him a small shake of your head.

"Hands behind your back, please. We're not done yet, okay?" you coo.

He quickly follows orders, moving both of his hands behind his back and away from his aching length, although not without letting out a sniffly whine of protest first.

"Please, ma'am.. I'm.. I can't do it I can't do it-- I'm-- AH!"

You cut off his soft moans of agony with a brief squeeze to the base of his dick, looking intently up into his eyes through your lashes.

"If you really want to stop, baby," you tilt your head teasingly, "you can always use the safeword, yeah?"

He bites his lip before he lets out a warped cry, his head lolling backwards in the same instant. You stop moving your hand.

"Art, darling," you whisper to him comfortingly.

He brings his head back upright to look down into your eyes, his face blank with pleasure; he almost looked drunk. His eyes were glazed over, his cheeks were pink, his hair was a mess, and his lips were parted to let out harsh little breaths of air as he tried to regain some semblance of being grounded in his own, ruined body.

You reach your free hand up to cup his jaw, brushing your thumb over the side of his face.

"Does it really hurt that bad? You know that you can be honest," you whisper, now a little concerned that maybe you pushed him too far.

He thinks for a moment before shaking his head slowly and swallowing a bit of drool that he realized has been collecting in his mouth for the past minute or so, "N-Just a little.." he breathes out.

You nod, giving him one soft stroke of his come-covered cock. He gasps and his torso jolts at the sensation, faint tears springing to his eyes.

"Sorry, sorry," you hum, "should we stop here then? I think maybe that would be best for you.. you've already done so well for me.."

The latter half of your sentence, that subtle bit of praise, gives him all the motivation he needs to want to unravel again.

He looks down at his still-hard cock, and then back up at you, and shakes his head. His tongue pokes out over his bottom lip and wets it as he tries to collect his thoughts.

"No.. no, I can do- I can go again, ma'am.. I pro-promise.." he slurs out, thrusting up into your hand.

You raise a skeptical brow at him and his movements, keeping your hand still.

"Are you sure? You know that I won't be upset with you if you want to stop, Art."

He shakes his head again, his lip trembling, "Please."

You smile softly and start to move your hand up and down over his cock again. Despite his previous indications that it was painful, the feeling has now seemed to morph back into unfiltered pleasure as he lets out a high-pitched moan of your name. He babbles endlessly, a mixture of pleas for more, letting out repetitive mumblings of "feels good", and "yes", and an assortment of stuttered expletives.

It doesn't take long for Art to get close again.

"I think 'm gonna come again," he mumbles, letting his eyes fall shut as his head slumps forward against your shoulder. You stroke him quicker, focusing on his hypersensitive tip as you feel a drip of precome come out.

"Oh? You want to come again?" you tease coyly.

You could be cruel, sometimes. He had known that this part was coming eventually.

He shakes his head against the crook of your neck with a whine, "don't do this, please.."

You stop your hand at the base of his cock, halting his orgasm just as his load started to rise up his length. Art bites back an obscenely loud moan of protest that is dying to be let out..

"No, no no noo," he squirms against you, repetitively shaking his head as his face remains buried in your neck.

"You know what you need to do, darling."

"Please," he moans, "let me come.."

"You want to come?"

"Yes."

"You do?"

"YES..!"

"How should I make you come?"

"Can y- keep stroking my- I want my cock to be- I-" he mumbles incoherently.

You place your free hand on the back of his head, pushing your fingers pleasurably into his hair as he trembles against you.

"You want me to keep jerking you off? Hm?"

"Y-Yes-ss!" he moans out brokenly, using every bit of restraint within himself to resist the urge to move his hands from behind his back and relieve his aching parts.

He would never do that, though.. no matter how much he wanted to. He would always follow your wants and needs first. Those were most important to him.

"Ask me for what you need again. Nicely; just the way I like it."

"Please, can I come?"

"Again."

He whines, his hips involuntarily bucking up against your stilled hand wrapped around him.

"Please," he sobs, "can I please come for you?"

"Yes, honey, you can come."

You start to stroke his cock once again, and within just a few pumps Art is releasing again. Even though you can't see them because his face is still in your shoulder, his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head as he lets out a couple pitiful squirts of white, sticky liquid over your hand. "Ooh, that's it.. good boy.. are you my pretty little slut?"

When Art hears this, he isn't exactly sure what happens, but it's like the orgasm that's already halfway finished just completely starts over.

"Ohh my fucking- oh my god-dd-! Ugh! HNGH-!"

It's like every single nerve ending in his body is lighting up at once, and he can't do a damn thing about it.. he can't stop it...

His legs nearly go limp underneath him, and he has to lean further into you to prevent himself from collapsing.

Art then releases the most pornographic moans you've ever heard and tenses up in your hold all over again. You're not really sure what's happening until he--

"I'm cumming again! I'm cumm-m-ing-! Again! Ohmyfucking--! GOD!"

He whines and sobs against your body, his arms still held behind his back as you feel his cock jump and pulse in your hand again. This time, nothing comes out. It's odd because it's clear that he's cumming for a fourth time, but there's nothing to show for it.

You slow your hand but continue to stroke his length which is now covered in the creamy-white filth of his previous loads. His cock softens a little, but you're unsure when his orgasm ends because, again, nothing is coming out.

Art's frame suddenly begins to jerk around every time your hand brushes over his tip, and he lets out a hiss of discomfort through his gritted teeth and a sniffle afterwards. As soon as you hear that, you know he's done and you quickly remove your hand. Any extra stimulation and he'd genuinely start to cry. You could save that for another time.. if he wanted you to.

You move your other hand from his hair to his clothed upper back and rub small, comforting circles over it.

"I've got you," you whisper, "you did such a good job, baby. You just came dry for me."

He nods, sniffling wetly and exhaustedly.

You continue to rub his back for a minute or so in silence as he comes back down to earth; the pleasurable waves of his release's aftershocks allowing him to bask in the ebb and flow of it all as he tries to calm his ragged breathing.

"I feel weak," he groans softly.

You nod, "I'm right here, you're okay.. take some deep breaths for me, honey."

He nuzzles deeper against your neck and sighs contentedly, the fuzziness in his head starting to dissipate with your caring words and gentle touch.

"You're my good boy," you whisper, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.

"Mhmm," he hums, "always for you."

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notes; WOAH. ok. so this has been like months in the making by now i think..? but i finally finished it :D thank u so much to everyone who has been patiently/loyally waiting for this one after i teased it for over a month on this blog 😭 + thank u to anyone who gave me some kind words of encouragement when i had to put this aside for a while. i luv u guys !! <3

reblogs are always allowed + appreciated!

#he's my wife #he's so silly #this was so obscene #im a little impressed with myself #mike faist #mike faist smut #art donaldson #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x reader #challengers 2024 #dodge mason #dodge mason smut #panic tv series #dodge mason x reader #sub!character #challengers movie #panic tv show #dom!reader #dear evan hansen #connor murphy #west side story 2021 #riff west side story #riff lorton smut #mike faist x reader

[50centexecutivembaclass]

This is my rule as the ruler

Getting them all with this champion sound

Getting them all with this champion sound

Getting them all with this champion sound

Getting them all with this champion sound

Getting them all with this champion sound

Hot song see you soon with it presenting my song Champion 🏆 sound

And

Now to present you with some of my accomplishments already

My New York City accomplishments

Trump is the whole package but he had boundaries he set boundaries and was strong against people especially the criminal element me I defend the proletariat the common man and woman with real issues and get them the laws passed that they need boost the economy with more money legalize weed get free college education for the city citibikes more money for people on Human resources administration and permanent employment from temporary seasonal jobs from decades long however much months work program they learn and then get kicked out and you can't support yourself and your family I made it where that after you finish that probation period you get the job the job security meaning your secure because you got a steady paycheck and now could build a future from there I got union contract for Starbucks workers and Amazon workers and more money on the city feps and seps voucher for their housing the city pay more rent for you so you and your family could rent in the neighborhoods you want with better schools and employment opportunities for the parents to provide a good future for their kids

I got hotels for the homeless in New York City 2021 it is now happens where everything that happens in New York City is under my name and my control of the city which is good because I do good for the people my name is Allen Henry notice the Henry Hall building with the Henry lives here sign on it next to 42nd Street Port Authority yes I live in New York City and thanks for the big announcement on your building symbolizing radio city music hall at Rockefeller center in New York City is shouted out about from a building with the Henry lives here sign on it let radio city music hall know I'm coming soon and thank you my super hero Batman and Superman my superhero days are just starting that's on 38th Street on llth Avenue in New York City Manhattan next to port authority on 42nd Street you could actually drive pass it and see it now it is actually a tourist site wow thanks that's amazing I love it thanks I'm honored I appreciate it again like the sign says I live in New York City and thanks for the big announcement on your buildings and don't forget the Henry apartment buildings in Brooklyn New York thank you I'm honored

I got Amazon workers their union contract

I got Starbucks workers their union contract

I got the minimum wage increased from $ 11 dollars an hour to $ 15 dollars to $ 17 dollars an hour put 100 million $ dollar boost in New York State economy proven math governor Kathy Hochul is signing that into law from where I already got it she is going to give it boost we need oh yeah very great and lovely governor we got now she is pretty good at doing her job I like her a lot and wish that the government of America go through with wage increase for all states and have the new federal minimum wage for a better rate of pay for all workers from the dishwasher , to the bike messenger to the Mexican American and union for job security is created for them to help immigrants and Kathy Hochul signs off on a new money adjustment plan to balance out against inflation and new tax cuts that help the common man and woman the employees that provide services in the places me and you have to visit

I got more money put on the housing vouchers the city feps and seps voucher so that homeless individuals and women with their kids and husband and wife can have better housing and a better life for themselves and their family And it's only going to get better more housing more safer housing where the housing crew does it's job and provide safe clean housing cleaning the apartment from Asbestos and using the wrong products that could harm the people in the apartment and their should be more NYCHA the projects job openings to the people in those surrounding neighborhoods the hood and any hood in the world to help clean their neighborhoods 20 men and women crews clean up crews drivers and even regular normal everyday people of those neighborhoods newly hired people that take pride in doing a very good service for the people of their community they have to educate the tenants on lead paint and checking their apartments carbon monoxide levels how to use a stove fire safety plans and evacuations plans in those apartments safety with electrical sockets for their children and toxic free apartments air conditioners and heating free cable so they can watch some good TV shows and movies and enjoy their summer and winter and they get WI Fi now hooked up with their house packages and hopefully more money on the voucher to help rehabilitating families to get their lives together better housing and better schools for their kids equal a better future don't forget to give New people moving into their apartment fire safety 🦺 training courses on unplugging their wires from the outlets and child safety outlets not leaving the oven on or stove on or leaving the stove and ovens on unattended child safety windows no water near electronics and electrical devices carbon dioxide early detectors and smoke detectors no smoking 🚭🚬 around fire hazardous materials and we should reduce the number of accidents and tragedies in NYCHA called the housing projects in our neighborhoods and enjoy your cable wifi air conditioning heat in the winter and your Citibikes .

I got the fair chance to compete for a job act of 2019 in New York City and California hopefully other cities and countries are going to follow suit

I legalized marijuana in New York City on March 31 , 2021 no violence in the hallways of the projects that we are from fellas respect people space and their kids in those hallways don't bring an violent atmosphere and environment around those kids when hanging out with our friends in the lobby that means no violence and violent talk around the kids while walking through projects NYCHA hallways go outside and enjoy the sun or the nice breeze that passes us and chill and enjoy outside that is so no laws will be passed restricting our laws .

I cleaned up fox square in Brooklyn , NY

Free college education in New York City

Free gym membership for people on Medicare

Citi bikes for New Yorkers

I got the second stage theatre in Manhattan , New York City meaning I got my second chance to perform music 🎼🎶 on a stage record and performing music, I rap .

Pictures of me as Christopher Wallace Biggie Smalls the Notorious BIG in Brooklyn New York City that is a big big accomplishment shout out to his moms how are you doing Ms . Violetta Wallace I'm very honored thank you Governor Cuomo legalized weed Marijuana the gaunja off of those pictures and across the street from the picture I got apartment buildings in my name the Henry apartments in Brooklyn on Rockaway Avenue in Brooklyn New York City

I brought Yo MTV raps to the Brooklyn Museum 🎨 an Art museum since I'm of the sophisticated crowd and Talented tenth from W . E . B . Dubois book and I'm a rapper from Harlem and Brooklyn New York City via Saint Croix U.S. Virgin Islands

I got my own subway street named after me called Respect Avenue in New York City New York and Brooklyn New York

Governor Andrew Cuomo gave me and opened an hospital named after me in Brooklyn , New York back in 2015 Brooklyn's 760 Parkside Avenue where my family is originally from when they landed in Brooklyn , New York City my uncle and his family 760 Parkside Avenue downstate biotechnology incubator hospital 🏥 thank you I'm honored and actually do put my sponsorship behind it not being funny it's just that it's an hospital and hospitals heal people and take care of them and I love that caring nurturing loving and nourishing environment of hospitals and the hospitality of the nurses doctors and specialists we never tell them we love them and thank you and I love you enough tell your doctor if he is doing a great job correctly say hey doctor I love you I love you all of my hospital staffs for providing a great service in my name I love you for taking care of God's people all of God's people I mean people from all communities we are all good people and deserve the best in treatment and the care that is given to patients when you visit my hospital and counselors should know the nutritionist and give out good advice even while your A casac counselor therapist and clinician do your job with passion , love and the intention of betterment for your patients and even those that come to work under and learn from you teach them how to doctor truly heal human beings through laughter , love a d being strong for them and doctor the soul through a warm smile and hug for all patients and pediatrics should know you have a great responsibility to love provide and care for all patients you have a very very important job and I love you we never know when you might need somebody to take care of our every needs, I love hospitals they should actually play Joyce Meyer and Joel Osteen in the care units to help heal the people in special care units play their TV shows and audio all through all units of the hospital

I won the Super bowl with Patrick Mahomes I got Clinton Dannemora back and I came home and took over the streets of NYC in politics Errol Louis of Channel 1 news would be proud of me

President Joe Biden presented me with a medal 🏅 of honor in the year 2023 for my heroism

Watch out Donald Trump my movement is doing very good now

I'm on 5th Avenue in the heart of New York City now

My gift 🎁 from Nicki Minaj the female rapper from her Young Money Crew thank you Nicki I got my own library in New York City thanks to her in the heart of New York City it is pleasing to me to be able to have a library that host after school programs for the kids and storytelling fun with their teachers and parents with Barney the dinosaur type characters to make the kids laugh and enjoy their selves that is a blessing for me coming from where I come from I had a rough life I grew up in Harlem New York City running the streets but I kept my nose in a book and part of that reason is because my mom was in college she would have tons of books on her bed and I fell love in books because of her she went to Monroe College in the Bronx and got her degree and even worked for the Board of Education for awhile and I got my love of books from her and to see that they give me a library is beautiful to me I know she is proud of me I made something of myself reading books I learned my way in anyway the library have costume animals Barney the dinosaur type costume animals for the kids to make them laugh and enjoy life is a blessing for me and it is in my building thank you I'm honored New York City and yes it is in the same building that I got my GED from in 2003 so I had already been going their for awhile they gave to me in 2022 thank you New York City and it's on 40th street and 5th Avenue right next to Grand Central and Times Square New York City and the same block wow as the Joel Osteen store so go get some Coffee ☕ and bagels and enjoy your day , their programs to help people returning to work , Cafe on the seventh floor outside rooftop so you could watch New York 5th Avenue like the empire state building and their are regular programs special instructors from any career is their to teach and instruct you on how to get where you would want to be in life it is so so clean the water fountains are the new ones where you place your bottle under some kid of water dispenser and it fills your bottles you could stand there and get as much refills as you want self service sanitized napkins to wipe your area where you are going to be reading I own the building so I eat at my seat the security guards is very professional that is their brand professionalism and high quality service with a smile they greet you warmly and treat you like you are at home it's mines so it is your home of course I'm like yeah yeah whatever but you would love it there make it a tourist attraction when you come to New York City I left school early I wish I didn't but the library is to give me a new start to learn all the on the job skills I need to excel in my career and it is there for you to hang out have fun meet some good people all New Yorkers are really good people and watch movies listen to music and to learn anything you want to make it there and enjoy yourselves

I won the Nobel Peace Prize 🏆 once for my caring Martin Luther King jr would be proud of me and love of humanity and with the helping of this page and Nobel memorial prize for economic sciences twice so that makes three Nobel prizes I won three Nobel prizes

Benefit monetary assistance increase for snap and cash assistance recipients

I'm John Wick in the movies John Wick series and I'm Neo in the Matrix and Matrix series congratulations to me I'm very Honored thank you Keeanu Reeves I'm very Honored thank you so much with tears in my eyes 💞 I love it everything I am now is bigger than what I been through in life and it is all because of people like you thanks and to my very close friend Laurence Fishburne true story real friend I mean we go back while he was studying to do the Matrix and I turned out to be a fine gentleman thank you and I found out I'm the one but the ones are the ones that study hard and work hard and making themselves into great people efficient and effective in constructive productivity their good at school , music or their career whatever they are good at is because they worked hard at it and that how we all can be an anomaly in society the good people .

Rikers Island tablet program podcasts and video games for inmates in jail to help stop crime violent crime in prison and to help rehabilitate the guy or woman and stop the back and forth of them going to jail . The tablet have podcasts and programs for Job Search legal research and books to read to help them become better citizens in the free society .

I was named The 16th Captain of New York City that is New York Yankees history and current captain of New York city New York Yankees hat history and time magazine 2022 man of the year the 16th and current captain of New York City , thank you .

I got meteors in front of the courtroom in New York City right in front of City Hall , 80 and 100 Centre street symbolizing I'm superman and I'm not the people of New York enemy I'm a friend and employers are there to help me if I just meet them halfway with some job skills they will employ me get me a job and for all that I say thank you for letting me work my way back into America's good people list thank you so much I mean I'm working and learning to give myself a job start my own business I'm learning how to do that but it is good to know that I got y'all white people the decent ones on my side not the ones that side with my enemies and haters but the ones that rock with me to be there to give me my life back with the meteors real live meteors thank you so much now in front of City Hall the famous New York City at 80 and 100 Centre where I first caught my first case at 16 years old🥇Joe Montana number thank you goodness for Bill Walsh is now in front of the courtrooms thank you for the chance again in my life to work and not stay idle in dangerous neighborhoods and environments which I'm teaching my way out of but thank you so much and I honor that thank you so much I'm proud to be an American 🏈

Laws I'm proposing

Job Safety and secure act - 2022

Fair banking act - 2022

Retirement investment plan for employees IRA act - 2022

Ready , willing and able Expansive territory act - 2023

Riverside drive Expansion project act - 2023

The new ferry from New Jersey to New York City - 2023

School sports culture expansion Act Copperas Cove , Texas

Rikers Island schooling expansion act Added on Basic education classes on Rikers Island on the tablet , college programs on the program , online school on the Tablet . -2023

NYCHA ( New York City Housing projects ) plans and ideas for improvement

The New Trench town rock - 2021 , 2022 , 2023

And many other pitches and proposals rebuilding the workforce , wages and structure of New York city and cities like New York .

Next order of business : My Plans for infrastructure in a utopian society hotels jobs pay raise on citizens paycheck from 15 $ - 17 $ dollars minimum wage pay to 19$ dollars to 20$ dollars an hour to better provide for all costs emergencies uncovered insurance payments due to partial health care coverage and full union membership granted to employees of any company free education grants and school loans payment plans

Pay raise for school teachers in every city at junior high school , high school and elementary school level since they are stewards of our children's future .

Pay raise for civil service workers and Civil service exams made and updated daily to the public , school crossing guards , correction officers , supervisors , probation officers , construction site supervisors .

Pay raise for day care workers

Free day care services for temporarily unemployed mothers and fathers

Pay raise for city fire fighters and police officers .

Job contractors fulfilling contracts with back to work public assistance programs that train and employ job candidates without their high school diploma or GED and granting them full employment with full medical and medicare coverage union membership and back to school Acces Vocational rehabilitation counseling and restoration of financial aid assistance for non violent crimes like drug sellers and abusers to stop recidivism to prison and to cure an addiction to a habit of committing perpetual crimes thus creating repeat offenders .

Jobs moving back to inner cities through the effort of study and research groups from urban planning courses from their neighboring colleges .

Tax abatement and financial incentives and business incentives and tax breaks .

Joe Biden and vice president Kamala Harris should include this law into all of their plan for cleaning up America I'm glad to see it go beyond New York City and other counties in New York I want to share this honor with author Michelle Alexander who I did my research from her book about mass incarceration of the black and Latino community and the political office and my friends that help put this law in place I reached out to hopefully stop the recidivism to prison and hopefully to help some of my friends and people that go back and forth to jail because they couldn't get a job due to the felonies on their record I recommend a certificate of relief of disabilities to all people returning to society if they haven't given you one go get it from your county's or borough courthouse it works wonders .

Next order of business : Tax cuts to help the everyday person keep more of their check in their pockets cut the tax rates in New York City by 4 percent I see it as New York State taxes % 8.82 to % 4 percent and business tax cuts to create more jobs Proposal For a Wage increase of $ 22 dollars an hour Including : Fire safety directors Security guards Librarians Fed Ex workers UPS workers Ready Willing and able with free vocational grants from access vr programs they should hire vocational rehabilitation counselors and job developers finding permanent housing and permanent job placement after the clients training Stock Clerks and cashier's at major stores like Gristedes , C Town , met foods , Burlington coat factory wage increase for all warehousing and factory workers jack pallet and forklift training for people with no experience and a starting salary at $ 17 - 19 $ dollars an hour and it increase with more time on the job how about the first year at that base salary of $ 17 - 19 $ dollars and on the even of that year the employee gets an raise of $ 2 dollars more on their check and other financial incentives as cash allocation from their check for newly place employee mutual fund packages besides with other benefits that said company is offering this helps to place that company on the stock market and grant their employees preferred stock options from their company that they work for at that current moment and because of the huge huge employee buy in it is like the employers are investing in their employees and their stores and company .

Educational requirements for jobs posted is less than a high school diploma but the job candidate has to be in a vocational program or GED preparation course half or full time hours .

Civil service jobs and exams posted weekly .

Sales professional salary plus commission on sales and stock options for mutual funds packages as bonuses with an wage increase to $ 19 dollars to $ 21 dollars an hour .

Newly added benefits to a job description benefits an employer on jobs posted give to their employees an employer get to hold back cash or take money out of an employees check to put towards a mutual funds stock fund option to help that client make more money as a second job the municipals funds and stock and funds and stock and then you gotta get hedge funds option packaged in to help the employees money make more money for them talk about overtime whew and at the same time that local market and store owner can put his company on the stock market and give out public shares thus in the end making it a good investment a regular place of shopping in a family like environment it is like getting to know your deli clerk , butcher , bakery attendant again only this time you are making money with the people you are spending money with Think about it that in turns build better communities better stores customer relationships safer neighborhoods and the beautifying of economically depressed environments more money for your kids college tuition school supplies newer roads being built leading to and from better neighborhoods and businesses and this is a future that we all as fellow New Yorkers can build together .

#Youtube

[hsllfirescoopsreblogs]

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「 ✦ Steve Rogers ✦ 」

╰┈➤ 18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all steve rogers stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!)

╭┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈╮

: ̗̀➛ code blue by @bonky-n-steeb

✮ Steve is angry on you for behaving recklessly and you decide to let him take his anger out on you in a very unprofessional way...

: ̗̀➛ oh captain my captain by @starryevermore

✮chris knows how much you enjoy captain america, so he makes sure you live out all of your fantasies. (chris evans pretending to be steve rogers)

: ̗̀➛ it’s you that i lie with by @lipstickbisous

✮pt 1- steve rogers realizes that his love for you is unparalleled, but when he chooses to return to you by the lake, he receives a certain visit from the time variance authority

: ̗̀➛ mr. perfectly fine by @sparkleofpizza

✮Hello, Mr. perfectly fine, how’s your heart after breaking mine?” - Taylor Swift (Mr. Perfectly Fine)

: ̗̀➛ @espinosaurusrexex

☾ forever, of course

✮Steve has a crush on you but your flirty character isn’t making things easy for him. Now he even has to marry you to please a 6-year-old superfan of his. Whether that’s a good plan or not, isn’t quite clear for Steve yet.

☾ watchful eyes

✮When your best friend gets you a new job, cleaning the apartment of the most successful man in New York City, you don't hesitate to accept. The pay is more than good, and the man himself is better than any eye candy you have ever seen. Unbeknownst to you, you've caught his attention just as much. Steve can't keep his mind off you, so much so, that he drives everyone around him insane with his grumpiness when you aren't around. It seems like he has to take matters into his own hands when he realizes, you're too shy to take things further yourself.

: ̗̀➛ something new by @buckyownsmylife

✮The one where Steve moved onto another woman’s arms after the blip, but now that you’re back…

: ̗̀➛ back to you by @literaryavenger

✮You've always been there for Steve, and now you're watching him go back to the girl he always wanted.

: ̗̀➛ hideout by @ronearoundblindly

✮Grant, a guest at your middle-of-nowhere motel, has needs not covered by the usual turn-down service.

: ̗̀➛ he’s just not into you by @sergeantbarnessdoll

✮Steve isn’t into Sharon, but he’s in Y/N.

: ̗̀➛ to know him is to love him by @anonymityisfunwriter

✮ to know steve rogers is to love him. to know him is to keep handing over your heart over and over again. to know him is to be broken by him.

: ̗̀➛ airbag by @ichorai

✮ five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

: ̗̀➛ lift by @str-spangled-banner

✮ You confess to Steve that you’ve always wanted to do the Dirty Dancing lift. Somehow, he agrees to do it with you.

: ̗̀➛ caught by @moonlightyeager

✮ you and steve get caught

: ̗̀➛ you’re stuck with me by @your-eternal-lies

✮ As his perfectly normal civilian neighbour, you’ve always been secretly curious about the Captain. Getting to know him while trapped together in your building’s elevator, however, definitely wasn’t on the agenda.

: ̗̀➛ hangry by @just-another-blog-of-fluff

•MASTERLIST

•MARVEL MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

#steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #marvel #marvel x reader #steve rogers one shot #steve rogers series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff

[pinkhoneydrop]

Its A Game

Pt. 1

[ A/N ] - I've been working on this for a little while now and i think it's ready to be shared :) this is unedited I'll be looking for beta readers once i get more into a flow with writing here and I'll have a master list up soon as well!! ps. please request a fic i love new ideas and i don't bite!

[ Pairing ] - Harry Styles x Reader!

[ Genre ] - Smut, Fluff and future angst

[ word count ] - 1.8k

[ All Parts ]

[ Masterlist ]

///

Fucking perfect. That’s what he thought about you every time he saw you. The most perfect person in his grasp as he pushed you up against the door and his finger tried to find the knob. His nose nudging against your neck as his lips found themselves kissing past your jaw. You always smelled like coconut. And if he focused really hard, he thought you almost tasted like it too. Your lips fell on the skin above his eyebrow as he hastily opened the door. Smudges of gloss left behind on his skin and he would get a tingling sensation when he would attempt to clean it off later. Your hands were so gentle on either side of his face as he paused to look at you. The two of you were leaning against the counter of the bathroom. In the mirror he could see his own reflection. Lip gloss sweat and lust tarnished his appearance. You whimpered at the feeling of his hips pressing against your own and his eyes flickered back to you.

“Shh, quiet down darling. Don’t want them to hear us.” And as those words left his mouth Harry took your face in his hand. Rings cold on your skin and nail polish contrasted against its color. He placed a soft kiss to your bottom lip, and you let out the most sinful sound Harry thinks he’s ever heard. He hoped to God someone would walk in and spoil is secret.

Did you think the same about him?

New York City in September. You weren’t from here. You flew out in his request a few days ago and we’re leaving back home tomorrow. And in 48 hours there would be pictures of the two of you leaving a party together. Matching blown out black irises and pink faces. It didn’t matter to him if the media didn’t think you matched up to any of his other exes. Or if they thought you were better. The media didn’t even know who you were. And he like it that way. Even if he hesitated to admit he was sprung for you and wanted more. Not that you made it easy though. It might have been better you were so young birthday just passed 6 years between the two of you and you were as beautiful as the bouquet of flowers you left for him after his last show. Ready to bloom in due time. He wanted to be with you every second. You just seemed to consume his thoughts. The songs he wrote about other girls all became about you. Every fan whose gaze lingered on him a little too long made him wish they were you.

Harry had 6 minutes till he had to start the show tonight and his pointer and middle fingers were knuckle deep inside of you. His lips pressed against your neck and his other had on your thigh. Warm skin against warm skin. Heart rates rising and heat collecting in the squared off room. Your phones forgotten on the sofa in the dressing room along with your belongings. Your naivety was draped across the floor along with your shyness and the coat you were wearing earlier. 6 minutes turned into 5 then 3 then a knock was heard on the other side of the door. Reluctantly the two of you parted ways. Labored breathing and frantic hands passed in between the bodies of you both. You were ushered to your section, and he was escorted to his starting point under the stage. It would be another 4 hours 37 minutes till you would see him again in his local apartment. A humble jet justifiably luxurious flat Sequestered away off some random street far away from Manhattan.

4 hours turned into 5 minutes as your car service pulled around and let you out in front of his building. Looking up to the sky you could just make out the balcony that was his from the front of the building. Pulling your jacket closer to shielded you from the cool air you walked into the lobby. The smell of leather and cleaning products were drastically different from the usual smooth scent the area had. Your heals clicked on the polished stone tile leading into the elevator.

Shiny metal doors closed softly, and you pressed the button with a 14 on it. You sighed and looked to your left to adjust yourself in the glass mirror lined wall of the elevator. Reapplying lip-gloss and being sure your lashes looked okay. A small smack of your lips and you decided you looked cute enough. As the elevator approached the last few floors you could faintly hear music playing from the speakers. The doors opened again to his pent house on the 14th floor. It was quiet for the most part and you shrugged off your coat setting it on the table placed near the elevator.  You pulled down your skirt as you walked further into the apartment searching for Harry. Your purse brushed against your leg as you peered around corners and called out for him.

“Harry?”

“I’m out here Darling I have a surprise for you.” Harry yelled back from the patio of his flat and you followed the sound of his voice as excitement filled your belly. You smiled hard as you rounded the corner seeing candles leading to the patio where Harry was sitting waiting for you at the table. It was gorgeous nothing was out of place, and you felt like you could have cried when Harry lifted a slice of cake with a lit candle in it. His voice rang out softly as he began singing to you.

“Happy Birthday to you…” it was so sweet of him to do this for you and you nearly melted.

“You had a show tonight…how did you do all this?” you fought back tears trying not to seem to taken aback by the gesture.

“I missed you birthday so I figured we could celebrate it together just us while you’re here.” Harry was deeply upset he missed your birthday. As someone who missed you when you were in a different room it was hard being in a different state or country as you. He watched as your eyes softened at the decorations and he just wanted to sweep you up and hid you from the world. You were so perfect. The candle light bouncing off your skin and hair. The smile on your face. You looked so delicate. Just so perfect and all for him. You let you a soft laugh and grabbed his face in both hands and placed a wet kiss to his lips.

“You going to make a wish?” Harry whispered into your ear as you pulled away. His eyes caught your right before you nodded and closed them to make your wish. The wind began to pick up, and Harry placed the cake slice back on the table. As soon as his hands were free, he pulled you into him fore heads touching and neither of you said a word. Your lips fell open, just barely touching his, but not kissing. You took one glance at Harry’s eyes, and you knew your wish was going to come true. Fuck it, you thought and pulled at the collar of his top to kiss him.

“Sorry. You’re probably so tired.” You started to ground yourself and remember where you were and what happened that day. Harry didn’t want you to pull away and his lips chased after yours. His hand slipped to your back and fell on the top of your ass.

Pulling you in closer he kissed the side of your ear before speaking. The heat from the kiss made you think back to earlier in the bathroom. How much you needed him then and how much you still want him now. The feeling was mutual it seemed. Harry snuck a hand between your thighs as you leaned into him further. The tip of his finger pushing past the hem of the skirt you had on and your eyes darkened as they ventured further. Harry took his other hand and gripped your face. The fat of your cheeks dimpling around his fingers as he moved you closer, if that was even possible. The top of your outfit doing nothing to prevent him from feeling how aroused you were at his actions.

Your hands were draped across his neck and you moved one arm so your other hand could wander. Through his hair, around his neck. Down the front of his shirt and to the front of his pants. He was dressed so nicely for this little celebration, but you wanted so badly to fast forward time to see him in all his glory. Then gain you would mis doing this. Your fingers slipped past his pants and Harry pulled away from the kiss.

“Darling not out here.”

“But Harry…I need you.”

“Okay.” In a rush harry propped himself up against the table and once again pulled you into him. He took hi hands and ran them up your thighs and under your skirt. The skin burned as you watched him. Waiting for him to hurry up. The need for him spreading to the very pit of your tummy and even lower as her hooked his fingers around the underwear you had on and slipped them down your legs. And patted one of his own after you stepped out of them.

“Go on. ride my thigh.”

You like to think you’re a person who follows directions well. You lifted one leg up and harry hiked it the rest of the way up to his hip and held on to you with the other hand as well. Your skirt was bunching up around your ass and your waist the more you moved back and forth on his leg. With one hand harry put some pressure on your hips and tensed the muscles in his thigh. Normally you would never be so hasty as to make mess of his pants but it looked like the two of you were racing to see who could do it first.

“I bet you want to cum darling, don't you? Beg for it.” Harry watched as you began to fall apart on top of him.

“Please, I need it so bad.” Your voice was strained. Trying to be quiet and fight back the moans the friction was causing. Harry ate every word up and maybe it was cruel of him but he wanted more. He always wanted more of you.

“Be a good girl for me and we'll see what kind of reward I have in store for your present.” Harry knew what he was doing when he said those words to you. You were hanging on every word and both of you were getting off on it.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #Harry Styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader smut #one shot #fanfiction #hslot 2023 #harry styles x black!reader #harry styles x y/n

[xoxoladyaz]

AU-gust, Day 9: Cleaning Crew

A/N: Avengers Crossover and allusions to smut, ahoy!

This ended up way hurt/comfort/fluff than I anticipated and there were almost no sexy times? And it was definitely the Avengers cockblocking Eddie and not the other way around so if there's still interest in that, I could see me writing THAT AU in the future! I just wanted Steve to be properly appreciated, you know? Anyways, happy AU-gust Day 9!

“This is the weirdest NDA I’ve ever seen.”

“Question, how many NDAs have you seen?”

Nancy Wheeler’s pinched face glared at Steve through his Starkphone. “Enough.” She rolled her eyes at Steve and restarted her perusal of the hefty contract Steve had emailed over to her (that she’d insisted on printing and making notes on, because even ten years removed from high school, Nancy Wheeler was thorough.) “There’s some things here regarding interpersonal relationships that seem a little unprecedented.”

“But?” Steve Harrington echoed, his eyebrows near his hairline.

“But you are dealing with the world’s first literal superhero team so these probably aren’t unreasonable requests,” she finished between gritted teeth.

“Great, so I can sign it then.”

“Steve,” Nancy sighed, and she pinched her nose between her eyes, “are you sure you want to do this? If it’s a matter of money - ”

“It’s not, Nance. Neither one of us has to work,” Steve argued back and hey, he wasn’t wrong. The government had been obscenely generous in their payouts after they’d finally defeated Vecna. And, okay, was it a little weird that instead of going to a fancy school or kickstarting his musical career or buying a weed farm that Steve rented a normal apartment and put the rest away into an investment fund? Maybe. Did he need to work, let alone work as a glorified cleaning service for the one percent? No, not at all.

But maintaining one of his (recently-divorced) mother’s properties had turned into a prosperous career because hey, it turns out all of those years spent cleaning up after the kids (and the interdimensional monsters they kept as pets) meant that he was, like, really good at cleaning. (And he was still incredibly insecure about his intelligence, or lack-thereof, and he didn’t want to be the only one who didn’t get into the dream school he applied for.)

And now he’d been personally asked – by Pepper Potts herself, of all people (who apparently played bridge with his mom?) – to take over the general care and upkeep of the personnel apartments at the newly re-christened Avengers Tower in New York City.

(Thank God he’d been out of town at one of Lucas’ basketball games when the whole attack happened; not that he wouldn’t have been willing to help but man, fighting monsters takes a toll when you’re not a superhuman. And he was only thirty.)

“This just feels like a cry for help, Steve. Do you really want to look after the world’s most difficult group of people?”

Steve stared at Nancy without blinking. “I babysat Henderson for years. I feel like I’m still babysitting Henderson.”

“I know, it’s just – I’m just worried that you’re not moving on, Steve.”

And, well, that hurt. Because sure, he didn’t have a doctorate like Robin or Dustin and he wasn’t playing professional sports like Lucas or spearheading global disability rights campaigns like Max or running a prosperous weed farm like Argyle or was part of the reporting and photography duo that was Nancy and Jonathan, nor was he part of a Grammy-winning rock band or a retired superhero or –

(It’s just, at the end of the day, Steve didn’t have really big dreams. After years spent fighting interdimensional monsters that liked to crawl their way out of walls, all of the other stuff – fame, fortune, money, a legacy – it didn’t really feel important anymore. All Steve wanted now, and truthfully, all he really wanted then, was a place to call home and people to belong to.

So honestly, it was really fucking rude of Nancy to judge him for just wanting that. And he was going to be working in close proximity with the Avengers of all people, like, how was that not success? Sure, he’d essentially be a live-in maid, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t doing important work.)

Steve didn’t say any of this to Nancy, of course; he didn’t need to. The looks on her face – shock, and then guilt – said enough.

“Steve - ”

“Thanks for your help, Nance,” he replied quickly, and then he hung up the phone.

(They were all split up now, they had been for years. And keeping them all together, staying together, being a family? That had been his dream for years.

But maybe it was time for a new dream now.

And maybe the Avengers Tower was the perfect place to start.)

/////

Working at the Tower meant that sometimes Steve felt like he was cleaning a frat house, mainly because the communal kitchen was usually covered in junk food wrappers and empty beer bottles and days’ old coffee mugs.

(“Trust me,” Pepper Potts had said drily the first time they’d had a check-in meeting, “this doesn’t come closeto a Tony Stark frat house party.”) 

Still, he was on time every day, kept to himself, and most importantly didn’t sell out any information to any of the many, many media outlets that sent him offers. That, along with the fact that apparently Steve had an obscenely high security clearance (thanks, Hawkins!) meant that he was asked to officially move into the staff quarters of Avengers Tower within his first month of work.

(Which had the added effect of him actually meeting the Avengers and, well, it was a little weird.

Because if Steve didn’t know any better, he’d say that they were flirting with him. Or, even worse, that they were staking some sort of claim, and that didn’t make sense, right?

Right?)

/////

1. Tony Stark

“Hey honeybun, how’s it hanging?”

“To the left,” Steve replied absentmindedly as he disinfected the industrial-grade espresso machine.

Someone choked behind him and – shit.

He’d just said that to his BOSS.

(His incredibly hot, incredibly wealthy, incredibly smart and powerful boss.

SHIT.)

“Mr. Stark!” Steve exclaimed as he spun to face his employer. “Mr. Stark, I am so, so sorry, that was so inappropriate - ”

“First of all, please for the love of god call me Tony,” Mr. Stark – Tony – ordered with a smirk as he leaned on the kitchen’s island. He was dressed in an old AC/DC tee that sent a pang through Steve’s heart because wowit reminded him so much of Eddie (although that’s where their style similarities ended, because Eddie always wore loose bottoms and Tony’s pants were always fitted to accentuate his ass.

NOT THAT STEVE HAD BEEN LOOKING.)

“And second of all,” Tony purred as he leaned further across the island, getting right up into Steve’s space, “don’t tease me if you aren’t going to follow through, sweetheart.”

Steve didn’t need a mirror to tell him that he was flushing bright red. “I – I - ”

“Mister Harrington, sir,” JARVIS spoke – which was a fully functional AI that Dustin would die to know about – “there is a call waiting for you on your personal line, a Mister Edward Munson.”

Speak of the devil.

“Oh,” Steve murmured, his face cooling off as quickly as it had heated and he spun around, hands shaking as he looked for a towel. “Yeah, let me just get a towel - ”

“JARVIS, put the call on my line,” he heard Tony order, and then a warm hand was at his back. “I’ve got this, handsome.”

Steve turned just in time to see Tony shoot him a wink and pick up his phone. “Eddie Munson, huh? I’ve heard a lot about you,” Tony started and then he was gone, disappearing out of the kitchen and towards his lab.

“I – JARVIS?”

“Mister Stark is a mystery to behold,” the AI replied with a sigh. “How about a glass of champagne?”

You know what? Fuck it.

“That sounds great, J.”

2. Steve Rogers

“ – and I said, ‘excuse me, but only one of us outsmarted some leftover commie bastards at the age of ten and it wasn’t you, Professor.’”

Steve snorted, listening as Erica detailed her most recent argument – and victory – with her prick of an international relations professor. (A few days after his weird interaction with Tony in the kitchen, he’d been granted access to accept personal calls in the main Avengers spaces, which meant that he had more time to catch up with his friends while cleaning which was a blessing because some of the dusting in this place? Took hours.)

“Doesn’t that break your NDA?”

“Please,” Erica snorted over the living room’s loudspeakers, “I’ve got Owens wrapped around my finger, just like you with a certain member of the one percent.”

“Sorry, what?” Steve paused mid-wipe, looking confusedly at the now-gleaming metallic coffee table in front of him. “What are you talking about?”

“Tony Stark, your knight in iron armor?” Erica replied in her best I’m-talking-to-an-idiot-right-now voice. “Or did you forget that he’s screening your calls?”

“He’s screening my what?”

“Please, we all heard about his little talk with the Nerd King,” she scoffed and oh yeah, he’d forgotten about that. (Honestly, he had no idea what those two had even talked about; when he asked Tony, the older man had changed the subject and ordered super fancy sushi instead.) “Now, if you had a bodyguard like that back at Starcourt, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten your ass kicked by the Russians.”

“What Russians?”

Steve didn’t scream, but he might have let out a high-pitched noise of surprise at the sound of Captain America’s voice. He turned around to find Steve Rogers standing at attention in the living room, his eyes glaring at the speakers overhead.

“Steve,” Erica’s voice echoed slowly, “am I hearing Captain America right now?”

“Just Steve Rogers, ma’am,” the tall blonde replied automatically.

“And just how long have you been there, Just Steve Rogers?”

“Long enough. Now, what is this about the Russians?” He asked, and his piercing blue eyes dropped onto Steve’s face and his heart was beating fast because he was nervous and for no other reason.

“Seriously? How do you not know? Haven’t you read Steve’s file?” Erica asked incredulously and okay, this conversation needed to be done immediately.

Piercing blue eyes grew shocked and Captain Rogers looked, well, sick to his stomach. “You have a file?”

“Okay!” Steve jumped up before this could spiral any further out of hand. “Erica, it was great talking to you, I’ll call you later, uh, Captain Rogers - ”

“Please, call me Steve.”

“Right, Steve, there’s nothing to be, uh, worried about - ”

“She said Russians,” Cap pointed to the ceiling, “so there’s definitely something to be worried about. Does Tony know about the Russians?”

“I’m sorry, did somebody say my name?” Tony popped his head into the room because of course he was also nearby.

“Did you know about this?”

“I know a lot of things, Cap, you’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Did you know that Steve was attacked by Russians?”

“Steve was what?!”

(Steve was then treated to the sight of Iron Man and Captain America reading his security file, staring at him in shock, and then stomping off to do something about their fury? The last part of that entire thing didn’t make sense, but JARVIS sent him some whiskey so hey, it could have been worse.

And if he let Captain Rogers tuck an extra blanket around him during movie night, well, that was just his business.)

3. Natasha Romanoff (and Clint Barton)

“I heard you lost a fight with some Russians.”

“JESUS!” Steve startled, barely stopping himself from dropping Tony’s mother’s expensive China all over the floor. (The porcelain set hadn’t been looked at in years and Pepper wanted to use it for the next investors meeting, so of course this is when the infamous Black Widow approached him.)

“Okay, first of all,” he said after he had set down the dishware and turned to face the smirking redhead, “I didn’t lose the fight, I knocked one out.”

“And then you got surrounded, captured, and were tortured for a total of two hours in a hidden bunker,” she finished. (How did she get her eyebrow to quirk like that? And why did he feel like she was flirting with him but also being mean?)

(And how could he get that skill?)

“I – yeah, you’re not wrong about that,” Steve muttered, glancing away from Natasha. “At least we all made it out alive. And we survived the whole Hawkins earthquake thing.”

Natasha snorted and murmured something under her breath that sounded like Russian but also sounded like metal and frankly didn’t make a lot of sense. She cleared her throat and spoke up and, well, whatever she said before must not have been important. “It’s a good thing you have us to train you.”

“Yeah,” he murmured absentmindedly. Then – 

“Wait, what?”

Which is how Steve started spending two hours out of every afternoon “training” with Natasha in the official Avengers’ sparring room. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much good it was doing, given that “training” mainly consisted of Natasha throwing him around the room and giving him bruises.

(Okay, that he was into, and she knew it too, judging by the wink she’d send him every time he headed off to the showers.)

After a few weeks, when she’d deemed him “competent” enough, she had Clint Barton start “assisting” as well, meaning there were two of them beating him up now which meant twice the embarrassment and twice the bruises.

(And twice the amount of time jerking off in the shower.)

(This was really starting to get out of hand.)

4. Thor and Bruce Banner

“This is really starting to get out of hand.”

“What is?” Robin asked as she poured the last of her Flaming Hot Cheeto dust into her mouth. She was the first person Steve had been able to secure a visitor’s pass for; Dustin was next on the list, followed by Max and Erica and then the rest of the gang (although according to JARVIS they were running into some sort of problem with Eddie’s pass, which could take up to an additional two months? He didn’t fully understand it, JARVIS had told him during breakfast a few days ago and he’d gotten distracted by Natasha throwing knives at Clint’s apple strudel and Steve accidentally breaking the toaster again.)

Steve grimaced as he watched her lick her fingers. “You mean aside from your Cheeto addiction?”

“Hey, this isn’t an addiction, I can stop any time,” she replied with a snort before tossing her empty bag at Steve. 

(Gross.)

“Sorry, what were you saying dingus? Something about things getting out of hand?”

“I don’t know, I just,” Steve set down his feather-duster (that he hadn’t even been using, he’d just been tossing it around like his old ice cream scooper) and got close enough to Robin so she could hear his whisper, “I might be reading things wrong, but I’m almost getting the feeling that they’re into me or something?”

Robin frowned. “Who, Eddie?”

“Eddie?” Now it was Steve’s turn to be confused. “No, the Avengers.”

“The AVENGERS?” Robin squeaked just as the door to the elevator banks opened. Steve and Robin whipped around to see Thor enter the main atrium with Dr. Banner on his heels.

“Steve!” Thor shot him a blinding smile and strutted over. Upon reaching Steve he wrapped him up in a hug and lifted him off the ground.

“Hey Thor!” Steve wheezed, trying to pat what he could of Thor’s back.

“How I have missed your countenance, my friend,” Thor boomed, and then he was setting Steve back on the ground – 

And kissing him on the lips. 

Thor leaned back and beamed, ignoring the fact that Steve was openly gaping at him. “It is good to be home.”

“Yeah? Yeah,” Steve breathed before shooting a quick look at Robin who looked completely and totally dumbfounded.

“And you must be the Lady Robin!” Thor said, turning his mega-watt smile upon Robin who flushed bright red. “Steve has told us of your exploits and your intellect. You would do well amongst the heroes of Asgard.”

“Thank you? I mean, thank you,” Robin squeaked.

(If Steve wasn’t in a state of complete and utter shock, he might have laughed at her, but he couldn’t move.)

“I have also seen the flag of your people,” Thor continued, like he didn’t notice Robin’s utter embarrassment, “and I have a lovely friend named Val who is searching for a paramour of her own. Do you think you would be interested? I could arrange a meeting.”

“Val. Val? As in - ”

“Valkyrie, yes,” Dr. Banner finally cut in sheepishly. “Also, hi, I’m Dr. Banner.”

Robin could only muster up a wave.

“Uh, hi, hi Bruce,” Steve shook his head, forcing himself to get it together it was only a kiss.

“Hi Steve, good to see you,” Bruce replied, and now he was bright red and well apparently Thor was the only person who wasn’t blushing right now and Steve needed to get a handle on this stat.

“That would be great, Thor!” Steve cut in, saving Robin from having to respond. “Robin’s going to be in town for a few more days.”

“Wonderful!” Thor said, turning back to beam at Steve. “I shall invite Val for dinner tomorrow but for now, I shall allow you to return to your revelry. Lady Robin,” he said with a bow towards Robin and then, turning to face Steve, he shot Steve a smug wink. “Steve.” And with that Thor was gone, headed towards Tony’s lab with a still-blushing Bruce Banner hot on his heels.

Steve turned to stare at Robin.

Robin stared back at Steve.

“Holy shit.”

“Holy shit.”

5. The Team

Surprisingly – or unsurprisingly – Robin’s date with Val had gone really, really well; in fact, it had gone so well that Robin transferred her graduate credits to NYU in a matter of days and moved into the Tower as well.

(“Steve. Steve. She’s a literal alien warrior goddess. Who cares where I work? I don’t even need to work.”

Still, the NYU transfer went incredibly smoothly, so smoothly that Steve confronted a certain genius billionaire playboy philanthropist about it. Tony had denied any input and distracted him with more sushi and a thorough tour of his sportscars which had ended up lasting for hours.)

Anyways, with Robin now living as an occupant of the Tower and the rest of the Avengers fully settled in and in agreement on a chore chart, Steve was starting to wonder just why he was still employed; like, what purpose was he serving? He really did try to stay on top of the cleaning, but the others were pitching in almost constantly, and it was a miracle if he was responsible for cooking even one meal a day.

“I just don’t get it,” he finally said to Robin on a particularly hot day in July. They were the sole occupants of the Tower’s rooftop infinity pool (as the Avengers proper were spending the day in a series of meetings), so this was the closest Steve was going to get to having a private conversation with Robin.

(Like, he was really, really glad that Val was so obviously head over heels for his best friend, but it definitely cut down on his and Robin’s cuddle time.)

“Don’t get what, dingus?”

Steve shrugged and ran a wet hand through his drying hair. “I don’t know, why I’m still here? I mean, they aren’t really using me as a cleaner anymore, and I mean, Bruce is a way better cook than me and he’s pretty much taken over so, like, what am I even doing here?”

Robin turned and pushed up her sunglasses so they were making eye contact. “Seriously? You’re serious right now.”

Steve nodded.

“You really don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Groaning, Robin slid her sunglasses back onto her face and turned back towards the horizon. “I’m not going to be the one to spell it out for you, dingus. You’re going to have to do this on your own. Or, better yet, why do you just ask?”

“Uh, maybe because I don’t want to get fired?”

(Robin shoved his head underwater at that which, frankly? Was incredibly rude.

He got his revenge later by knocking her into the pool after she’d finally dried off.)

+ 1 Bucky Barnes

Being fresh off of a highly-advanced plane-ship-thing from Wakanda meant that Steve hadn’t seen a whole lot of James “Bucky” Barnes. He’d sat next to him at dinner a few times, shared a couch during their re-watch of Game of Thrones, even sparred a bit at Natasha’s direction during Steve’s “training,” but they hadn’t really talked, which made the fact that after Steve’s un-helpful swim with Robin, he found said super soldier waiting for him in the hallway outside of his bedroom.

“Bucky, hi,” Steve nodded, rubbing his towel across the back of his neck. “Sorry, did you need something? Is there a problem with - ”

“No problems, doll, I just wanted to have a chat,” the dark-haired man purred, and Steve?

He felt his stomach tangle up in knots.

“A-about what, exactly?”

Bucky hummed and uncrossed his arms, the vibranium arm shimmering under the light. “Well, a little birdie told me you had some questions about what your place is here,” he said, a playful sparkle in his eye. “And,” Bucky stepped closer and backed Steve up until Steve was leaning against the door to his own apartment, “since it seems that my teammates haven’t made your position entirely clear, I thought I would take matters into my own hands.”

Steve didn’t even get a sound out before Bucky was surging forward, planting the sort of kiss on Steve that he knew he’d never recover from because for as forceful and passionate as it was, it was gentle too: the way Bucky’s cybernetic arm wrapped around Steve’s back and help him up; the way his other hand cupped the side of Steve’s face; the way Bucky hummed, like Steve’s lips were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted; 

The way he lifted Steve up and kicked open the door.

“I – I - ” Steve panted out as the door swung shut behind them. “I still - ”

“You’re home, doll,” Bucky murmured against Steve’s lips. “That’s what you are.”

And, well.

Steve couldn’t not kiss him then.

(And he couldn’t not give him every piece of himself in return underneath his silken sheets.)

Four Months Later

“Okay, now this is the weirdest NDA I’ve ever seen.”

Jonathan snorted from across the room as he fiddled with his camera. 

“Hey, you were the one that wanted the exclusive,” Steve replied. “I could have told you it would be more intensive.”

“Yeah, yeah, and who’s fault is that?” Nancy teased with a glimmer in her eye. “I’m not the househusband here.”

“Umm excuse me, that’s my job?” Robin piped up from her spot on Val’s lap. “Steve is obviously the trophy wife.”

“Hey!” Steve exclaimed, but then a pair of godly arms wrapped around his waist, a cybernetic arm wrapped around his shoulders, and a pair of expensive lips pressed a hot kiss to his cheek.

“Best trophy wife a guy could ask for,” Tony crooned in his ear and then laughed at Steve’s blush.

(His partners weren’t the good guys, they were evil.)

“Dude, Eddie would shit a brick if he saw this,” Jonathan said with another snort.

“Oh, how is - ”

“Who do you speak of? I am not familiar,” Thor cut Robin’s question off loudly, his thundering voice vibrating up and down Steve’s back.

“I think he said Freddie - ”

“Oh, like Freddy Krueger – Cap, we need you to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street - ”

“ – after the shoot! Do you think Tony will order us sushi again?”

“ – Steve first, Steve, are you in the mood for sushi?”

Steve felt Nancy nudge him, and he turned to see her smiling. “Hey. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Nance,” Steve smiled back.

“It’s good to finally be home.”

#steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington my beloved #avengers #tony stark #thor #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #stobin #stobin friendship #valkyrie #sorry eddie you snooze you lose #and now it is time for me to snooze because this is way too fucking long my god #august fanfic challenge

[justanarchiveforfics]

August Seventeen recs

Where's the fun in that? | @bluehoodiewoozi (fluff)

The mailman keeps mixing up your mail nearly every day. The guy who gets your mail often demands a gift of some sort in return for your stuff.

The very first night | @shuadrive (angst, smut)

the search for a new place to live takes a turn for the worse when the only person willing to split rent with you is your ex-boyfriend.

What? Like it's hard? | @starsstuddedsky (friends to lovers, fluff)

With the help of a little bit of bleach, Soonyoung is certified legally blonde–complete to last minute-dedication to scoring as high as Elle Woods on the LSAT. While he has no interest in law school, he’s notorious for never turning down a dare. So how does a frat bro in serious danger of failing his senior year get a 179? He asks the smartest person he knows. 

Or, studying for a law test has never seen this much chemistry.

Honey boy | @chocosvt (slow burn. fluff, f2l)

When you graduate high school, you realize you’re not really going to miss anyone, apart from a cute boy who doesn’t even remember your name. five years later, after accepting an offer to pass the summer at a friend’s lake house, he’s standing right in front of you. the universe doesn’t give second chances very often. you’re not going to let the honey boy slip away twice. 

Love & other clichés | @nnight-dances ( fluff, angst)

Hoax | @lovelyhan (mafia au, strangers to lovers, angst, smut)

You’re a hostess that’s drowning in debt, and jisoo is a man with too many secrets to keep. making a clean break for it isn’t as easy as you’d hoped.

Ode to you | @lovelyhan (angst, reincarnation, fluff)

If there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.

Eat. Play. Love | @husbandhoshi (slow burn, enemies to lovers)

Being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

Meet my blue | @smilehui (fluff, strangers to lovers)

Joshua hong doesn't really do love, but when you tumble into his life in a splash of color, he falls hard. and maybe you were right about those grays in the first place.

Starflower | @kmgkmg (angst, fluff)

Your guardian angel has come down to earth, what will happen?

Lily of the valley | @shuahoonie (fluff, meet-cute)

Hao thought the idea of a meet-cute was corny, impossible even. however, when he recalls the first time he met you, he knew he had to swallow a few choice of words and his pride.

And it was all yellow | @sunhoures (strangers to friends to lovers)

Wonwoo doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but he finds himself falling for you a lot sooner than he thought possible.

The soulmate service | @dkfile (soulmates au, fluff)

The soulmate service has one purpose: to help those who drew the short end of the stick and ended up without a person to live their forever with. after the heart wrenching realization that the boy you’ve loved since you were thirteen isn’t the one meant for you, you put your love life in the hands of vernon chwe — which, now that you think about it, is probably a very bad idea.

To live again | @viastro (time travel au, childhood friends to lovers)

It’s been years since your last milestone birthday; a time when everything still felt right in the world with youth and ambition. now that you’re older and times have changed, would you dare take a chance to save someone else in the past at the cost of your own future?

Under the collar |@miraclewoozi (fluff)

your unlucky-in-love best friend goes on a date with someone who, by all accounts, should be his perfect person. so… how exactly do you end up being the one who tucks his sorry, drunk ass into bed?

#monthly read #seventeen recs

[nichenarratives]

Hurricane Heller 20

A Niche Narratives fanfiction

last | first | next

20: Breaking Point

It's only November, yet the local stores have swapped their Halloween decorations for the traditional, garish reds and greens of Christmas, for it promises to be a good one. With the pandemic restrictions lifted, rationing rumored to relax in early December and the anniversary of the Great War's conclusion on the horizon, even non-Christian communities are filled with seasonal cheer, leaving New York revitalized, rejuvenated and more proud to be American than ever, even as winter rapidly descends upon the city.

Its residents drawn into an icy grip of freezing rain, sleet and an unerring frost that licks the window panes, Mordecai can at least afford to heat his home properly this year. He burns kindling and coal almost constantly when at home, and his landlady often enters to light his hearth before bed to ensure the apartment is not freezing when he returns. In exchange for that simple kindness, he buys the widower a steady supply of coal, ensuring her pension goes on sustenance and essential fabrics rather than just staying alive.

Kosher meat is more readily available once more, allowing Mordecai to reintroduce some much needed variety into his diet. While still rationed for the time being, a little chicken in his soup makes a world of difference. It adds flavour, texture and additional proteins that allow the tuxedo to regain some of the body mass he lost during the Great War. It also adds to his family's diet, ensuring his mother is as healthy as can be as the weather changes and exacerbates her cough.

Regarding his family and restoring relations, it's a tentative process certainly, but they've made steady progress. Esther and Rose adjusted to his return almost immediately, pulling him back into the comforting rituals of Sunday afternoons in an instant. He spends much of his time being shown Rose's newest sketches - which move from animals, to delicately sketched cityscapes and countryside from their father's old books - or helping Esther with chores around the house as mother rests, the morning service having exhausted her.

Reconnecting with his mother is more difficult. While she's obviously happy to have Mordecai back in their lives, former affections return slowly. It takes months to tease more than single word answers from her, numerous more to move from formal discussion to easier conversation. It was the evening she suggested he lead hamotzi he'd finally felt forgiven, an honour he'd willingly split with Esther from that night on. It's also a relief his mother never mentions returning to Temple or speaks of Nataliya, leaving his associating with the synagogue firmly in the past for their present relationship.

Unfortunately, his Mother's health declines as the seasons change; occasional coughing fits become asthmatic attacks, wheezing and persistent malaise that makes housework or cooking almost impossible to maintain. With an unrelenting schedule, Mordecai relies on Esther in particular to keep the house clean, food on the table and accompany their mother to her copious appointments, feeding back the results as he assists with dinner clean-up every Sabbath.

Regardless of the specialist or tests, the outcomes remains consistent; take medications as prescribed, keep the house clean and when possible, move to a quieter suburb.

The constant re-administering of old advice - coupled with a mounting list of ineffectual yet expensive medications - is an exasperating experience for the entire family, but none more than Mordecai. Moving his family to better housing was the main motivation for a foray into the criminal underworld. Yet nine years later, he has a delightful apartment while they fester in rental purgatory, an incessant onslaught of medical bills constantly chipping away at his hard work until he has to add another month to their intended moving date.

He and Esther talk for hours after Mother and Rose go to sleep, discussing potential short term reparations for their situation. Their landlord won't fix the drafts or the broken kitchen window, an act of unsolved vandalism during the Great War, so they've taped newspaper and cardboard over the hole to act as an insulator. They've similarly insulated leaking window frames with paper, hung up dense curtains donated by a kind Temple member for heat retention, and now keep a window situated at each end of the house barely cracked at all times for fresh air ventilation.

Unable to afford a professional chimney sweep, Mordecai had stripped to his vest and boxers and attempted to clear out the chimney with a broom handle topped with a damp cloth. The mess was immense; a white muzzle ended up indistinguishable from black fur, while his undergarments were so badly stained, they were still gray after four washes and had to be thrown out. The throwback from their next fire was definitely reduced however, well worth a pair of boxers and a vest, when their mother could breathe easier.

After noticing the abundance of mold under the window in his mother's bedroom bringing her some tea a few months prior, he began to dedicate an hour each week to removing the mold in every bedroom, before moving on to the worst offender in the house, the bathroom. The first time he scrubbed it clear of mold, his hands were raw and bloody. He'd gotten lectured by both Esther and his mother into investing in rubber marigolds, which have certainly saved his poor paws from further damage, even if he hates how they feel on his bare hands.

Despite these efforts, his mother's cough moves closer to a suffocating moistness that choked his youngest sister on the stairs that awful night. Esther notices too; when cleaning up tjegtehr, they share a worried glance across the kitchen before glancing at the ceiling, ears straining to hear her wheezing breaths afterwards, seeking reassurance their mother remains alive for another week.  

Returning home, Mordecai always counts his savings again each Sunday, willing eighteen months to pass in earnest. 

While loath to admit it even to himself, the unerring forward march of her illness has resulted in some unprofessionalism on Mordecai's part. He's short with his own employees, quick to become irritable in adverse conditions, and even less forgiving with the unlucky souls on the receiving end of interrogation. More than once, he's foregone any calculated discussion entirely for physical torture in a quest for swiftee conclusions, the job remaining in his least favourite line of work under Mr Savage's leadership.

Life continues on mostly according to plan though, until just two days before his twenty-first birthday, when Mordecai jolts awake to a banging on his apartment door. 

"One moment," he mumbles too softly for anyone to hear, then scrabbles on his bedside table to switch on the lamp. Retrieving his pocket watch, he pops it open and squints at the face a long moment before realizing he can't see without his glass. "Briln," he grumbles to himself, clumsily picks the eyeglasses up and sets them on his muzzle. He then peers at the time with bleary eyes, tilting his head to avoid the awful fingerprints he's just left on the glass to read the face.

3:17am. Mordecai groans and presses his face into a pillow, making his pince-nez wonky in its feathery softness as his arm falls to the mattress beside him. He's been in bed for a few hours, likely only asleep for one and a half. Certainly not long enough to be summoned from slumber and tempted to ignore them and roll back over, it's their desperate nature to eventually encourage the man, begrudgingly, to his feet. 

The disheveled tom pulls his robe over striped pajamas and steps into worn slippers, then causally stifles a yawn into a fist while retrieving the Colt from his shoulder holster. Gun in hand, he approaches the door and opens it without thought, the gun hanging at his side more habit than a careful plan. If anyone wanted him dead in that moment, he'd have been a sitting duck in his robe and nightclothes that Sunday night 

As luck would have it, there is no threat waiting on the other side of the door, yet it's somehow immeasurably worse to be faced not with a disgruntled, bankrupt client but Rose in just her nightdress and a thin robe, tears staining her cheeks in fresh streaks and body shaking almost violently. The sight is enough to wake Mordecai up entirely, though before a query can leave his lips, Rose has thrown her arms around him and buried her face in his pajama shirt, sobbing hot tears into the fabric without remorse.

Mordecai stands awkwardly, eyes wide and confused, Colt still hanging uselessly at his side while Rose squeezes him tight enough to knock the breath from his lungs. She should not be walking the streets of New York alone at all, let alone at night. She's hardly dressed for the weather, as if she just grabbed the nearest pair of boots and ran soon after waking up, unruly curls escaping from the dual braids uses to keep it from becoming tangled during sleep. 

Her attire is as bewildering as her presence, however after a number of seconds have passed, his familial instincts finally return. Bringing the hand holding the gun to rest against her lower back, Mordedai places his other hand on her head in an attempt at reassurance and comfort. It seems effective, as her tears redouble into his shirt, her arms so unnaturally cold to the touch through the thin fabric it makes him frown.

Only then does he finally look up and notice his Mrs Kovitz, his downstairs neighbour and landlady, also standing in the hallway. The elderly woman leans against a wall for support, her face smothered in anti wrinkle cream and frame almost skeletal thanks to the stress of losing both her husband and a son in the war, her palm beneath the opposite elbow to steady her hand as she puffs on a cigarette. 

*She say sumzing about motzher going into 'ospital," the elderly woman states between tokes. Her frilly nightgown is like a sea of white on her small frame, making her seem like she doesn't have feet. "I zink it best let her up to speak."

"I appreciate the forethought, Mrs Kovitz," the monochrome tom offers with obvious sincerity on a usually stoic muzzle. He glances down at Rose for a moment, gently stroking the back of her head as she begins to quiet down, before olive eyes rise to meet pale yellows. "Anything with which you require assistance, I would be most-"

She interrupts him with a shoo motion from both hands. "Go be wiv family, narr," she instructs with a sad smile, tired eyes moving to the sniffing girl pressed to his chest. It's her favourite thing to call her peculiar upstairs neighbour, when the man fixates on unimportant things, an affectionate term, even if it sounds somewhat cruel; jester. Mrs Kovitz motions to the girl she hasn't met before. "Time for being man of family, not pester old woman wiv help."

Mordecai nods gratefully before ushering Rose inside, her freezing hands a sure sign her shivering is not just from the expression of intense emotions. She needs a cup of tea to sip while Mordecai finds something suitably warm to pull on over her robe, then they'll go to the hospital together. Until they talk to a professional, Mordecai can only hope there's still something that can be done for his mother's poor health.

oOoOo

Even at six in the morning, the hospital still bustles; around slumbering patients and anxious relatives, nurses move in and out of wards fluidly, taking vitals and checking on their most vulnerable patients with admirable efficiency. Mordecai watches them silently from his chair beside his mother's bed once her cough has been brought under control. Hours flow past for while she and his sisters slumber, he cannot relax. There's no time for rest, not when he has new calculations and risk assessments to run regarding his savings plan.

He reclines in the armchair and stares at the ceiling, fingers entwined in his lap atop a white fedora. With just months left before saving enough to buy them a house, the sudden decline in their mother's health is a kick in the teeth. Doctors expect her to be discharged in three weeks and determined she won't return to a home that's slowly killing her, the time frame for success has significantly reduced to a mere tenth.

This comes with its own slew of problems; there's no way Savage won't notice if Mordecai starts scraping more than one percent off each business under his management. The numbers are simply too high to disguise as unexpected bills or degraded stock, yet Mordecai remains aware his current scheme can't earn the remaining funds in just three weeks, not unless he can exponentially grow his customer base in each consecutive week, unlikely in a post-war climate.

A low wheeze drawing his attention, Mordecai sits up and observes his mother carefully as she struggles to catch her breath, even at rest. The episode thankfully passes just as swiftly as it came when she rolls onto her side, but it's enough to convince Mordecai of his next move; temporarily increasing his embezzlement margins to three percent, and hope he can disguise it well enough to avoid the deception being uncovered.

It's a huge risk, but just two weeks of triple earnings is all he needs to ensure once his mother is discharged, she and his sisters can move into a new home. One without black mold under the windows. I can remain undetected for a fortnight. I have to, for mother's sake.

#lackadaisy #niche narratives #hurricane heller #mordecai heller #lackadaisy cats #fanfiction #tracy j butler #lackadaisy mordecai #fanfic #no beta we die like atlas may #this chapter killed me #but enjoy #please

[spiderleaks]

For Special Occasions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader 

Warnings: a little bit of fluff, angst, some religious mentioning, she/her pronouns in reference to the reader, minor season 2 spoilers, no use of y/n

Word Count: 968

A/N: This is for @mattmurdocksscars 1.5k writing challenge!! I hope you enjoy it because this was a lot of fun to write! The prompt that I chose will be in bold. Also if you like listening to music while reading I suggest you listen to New Home (Slowed) by Austin Farwell. 

If you enjoyed reading please be sure to reblog!

He never saw this day coming, granted Matt couldn’t see shit but he couldn’t wait to be by your side. His suit was cleaned just for this. 

He carefully felt for the suit on the rack with the different colored suits matched in a line, the braille on the card describing what he grabbed so attentively. 

Silk black, for special occasions only ;)

He noticed the winky face you put at the end of his note and a small chuckle escaped. Of course, you put that for your favorite suit of his, “It makes your ass look so perfect, Matt,” your voice echoed in his mind, “it should be illegal to let anyone else see that but me.”

He silently brushed away the stray tear that threatened to start falling from his face. Not yet, he told himself. Matt put the suit on knowing that the minute he leaves this apartment, it will be official, and something in him wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there had been a change. To many people, there won’t be, hell even Foggy won’t know. 

It was time and Matt said his prayers before he left. He prayed to God that he had the strength to make it through the service without a single tear, that he can be strong for you. He quickly grabbed his red glasses, the pair that you gave him for one of his birthdays.

“I can see your eyes just a little more clearly with these. I know you wear your current pair to hide away, but I want to see your eyes, I just want to see you.”

He grabbed his cane, unfolded it, and like the good Catholic boy that he is, he put on his glasses and walked to where you waited for him.

The walk in New York City was different this time, snow was gently falling and people seemed to be in a civil mood for once. The weather muted Matt’s senses, yet he could tell that the young boy that quickly crossed in front of Matt was excited to see Santa that night, setting up a whole plan to have his phone hidden in his teddy bear recording the entire night. 

Matt couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his face, he wondered if you wanted kids or maybe just a pet would better fit both your styles. He was too busy being Daredevil and Matt Murdock the shit attorney that fucked up Frank Castle's case, and you?

You had your job which was going well. Matt couldn’t be more proud of you for putting the work in and finally getting the appreciation you deserved.

His mind had wandered for too long.

He didn’t realize he was where he needed to be.

Shit.

Father Lantom looked up to see the man’s stone face. The snow was falling harder now, but it wasn’t too hard, the service can still happen.

“Matthew,” He nodded and stepped forward, “Are you ready?”

A weighted silence falls between the two men. Matt barely moves his head, ready to begin. The service couldn’t have run more smoothly and from what Father Lantom described to Matt you were beautiful. The dress was a brilliant white shade with an added shawl over your arms. The makeup was quite simple and yet your beauty shined through. Matt was just barely able to pick up the perfume that you were still wearing.

The service ends and Lantom asks Matt if he has any words he would like to share before they depart. Lantom waits, he knows how Matt feels he just wants the boy to admit it.

“I shouldn’t have left.” Silence once again falls after Matt’s admission. Lantom’s lips form a tense line as he steps closer in an attempt to be supportive.

“I shouldn’t have left.” While stepping away, he says firmer this time, “I thought if I went to call Claire, maybe she would answer and help or-” Matt takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts, his facade slowly breaking apart.

His tongue quickly darts out of his mouth out of habit to recenter himself. Feel the cold. Smell the trees by Morningside Park. Taste the hint of salt from his tears. He shudders out a sigh.

“Every single time something good enters my life, the Devil takes it away from me, without remorse or regret. I wasn’t-” He looks up trying to hold himself together, breathing harder, “I wasn’t enough to save her.”

“Matthew, what you do out there helps people. You saved dozens of people that night-”

“But not hers.” He gripped his cane with a strong intensity, trying anything to avoid the feeling of grief again.

“You can’t blame yourself for this happening,”

“She died in my arms Father,”

A bell tolls behind them as Lantom straightens his stance, finally moving next to Matt. “She trusted you. She understood that you did all you could have done at that moment. She loves you Matthew, and that kind of love doesn’t just go away.”

He glanced over at Matt who stilled. Father Lantom reached out and patted Matt on his back.

“Believe in whatever afterlife you’d like but she’ll show you the ways she loves you in different ways now. Just because she is physically gone does not mean she is gone forever.” Lantom nodded his head, silently telling Matt that he was finished.

“If you need to talk, you know where to find me,” He did a small wave goodbye while walking back into the cathedral.

Matt stood in front of your grave, his head swimming.

He couldn’t protect you from his city. He wasn’t strong enough, God he just wasn’t fucking strong enough.

And now you are gone because of him. Nothing more than a memory.

#amandas1500 #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #daredevil #marvel #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock one shot #i shouldn't have left

[lotrefcp]

Hidden Away - Last Chapter

pairing/AU: Javier Peña x female!reader

summary: When the DEU fails to catch Escobar you are sent to Bogotá to help the team.

warnings: I don't understand this so just gonna say mature content, 18+

word count: 1500+

I'm sorry for the terrible ending but I was just frustrated and just wanted it to be over with. Thanks for those who followed this story.

Chapter 25

Peña woke up expecting to have you by his side but when his hand searched for you on your side of the bed he only found an empty space. He looked around the room but didn't see you. He ended getting up, calling your name.

“Y/N?... Y/N?”, he called without getting a response. Maybe you had gone to your house to do something. And so he left his apartment and knocked on your door. After waiting for some time for you to open it, he took his hand to the doorknob and realized that it was open. Startled, he opened it and entered slowly, calling for you again. “Y/N, is everything okay?” But even before he could say your name again, he entered the apartment completely and found a totally empty space. Only the furniture remained. Your books were gone, your blanket on the sofa was missing, the television on the furniture. Already shaking, he went to your room in search of a sign of you, but when he opened the wardrobe doors he saw that it was also empty, the bathroom with nothing that showed signs of life. He quickly left your apartment and went to his, where he hurriedly got dressed to go to the embassy looking for you. Upon arriving at the building, he ran to the place where your desks were, without greeting anyone along the way, seeing Steve with his back turned, in the distance.

“Steve, have you seen Y/N?”, he asked bluntly.

"Good morning. Y/N? She has already left.”

“Left? Where to?”

“What do you mean where to? You don’t know? Medina sent us away. She thanked us for our service and said that our work here was finished. Only you will stay here. Congratulations, by the way.”

“And Y/N isn’t here anymore? Didn’t she come get her things?”

“No, she just took everything yesterday at the end of the day. Her plane left early this morning. She even went to my house yesterday to say goodbye after cleaning up her apartment. Didn't she tell you anything?"

"No..." And suddenly he remembered your tears on his shoulder after loving each other for what it would be, he discovered now, the last time. He dropped into his chair and, placing his elbows on the desk, rested his head in his hands. He had lost you for the second time in just 4 days. He could feel his heart coming out of his mouth, so hard was the way it was beating. After saying goodbye to Steve, Javi also started to tidy up his desk since, as a team leader, he would have the right to an office of his own. It was when he opened the drawer to take out his things that he saw an open notebook. Soon he realized your handwriting.

Peña, I hope you were able to forgive me last night, I hope I could have shown you how much I love you and how much I want you before I left. I'm sorry I didn't say anything to you but I knew I wouldn't be able to say goodbye. I hope that one day you will forgive me. By the time you see this, I'll be on the plane home, back to New York. Who knows if one day, destiny, will make our paths cross again. Until then, I just want to say that, although you don't believe it, you deserve to be happy and you should do everything to be happy. Thank you for making me feel safe and loved for the first time in a long time. I love you, now and forever. Y/N.”

And the days went by, the weeks, the months. Peña tried to move on without, however, returning to his life in the brothels. He tried a few dates, a few dinners, but nothing ever went beyond that. No matter how ephemeral your relationship was and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get you out of his mind. You hadn't left any contact details, perhaps in the hope that he would be able to move on, he thought, and he threw himself headlong into work, hoping that this way he would be able to forget about you, at least for a few hours a day. Until one day your name appeared again in his life. He was reading the report of the operation that had been carried out in New York to catch Chepe Santacruz, when he realized that you had participated in the ambush. You had been the one to fire the first shot that brought him down. And again, he never heard anything from you again. After Chepe's death everything unfolded very quickly and, suddenly, the Cali Cartel had been overthrown, causing all the other cartels to go into hiding, afraid of the DEA. And Peña also ended his work in Colombia.

Back in Laredo, Peña tried to move on with his life, helping his father with the daily tasks, but something was still missing. After a conversation with his father, Javi decided that he didn't want to make his life on the ranch and, after a lot of trying, he managed to get the DEA to send him to their headquarters in New York. The following week he was on the plane on his way to his new place of work. After quickly passing by his new apartment, he headed to DEA headquarters to report for duty. After speaking with his bosses, he went to the secretariat.

“Good morning.”, he began by saying.

"Good morning. How can I help you?”

“I'm going to start working here and I just wanted to know where I can find an old co-worker who was with me in Colombia. Y/N?”

“Let me check the system.”, the secretary said with a smile on her face. Peña couldn't control his nerves.

“I'm sorry but she no longer works for us.” He felt his heart exploding.

"What? Why?"

“She left after her last operation. It says here that Chepe Santacruz was the target of the operation but, although they managed to catch him, there were 3 more innocent victims in the exchange of gunfire. The next day she handed in her resignation letter.”

“Can you at least tell me where she lives? Her home number?”

“You know better than that. It is private information that I cannot disclose.” After much insistence, Peña finally got the information he wanted, but when he went to your apartment looking for you, he found a family of 3 living there. You had moved. But, fortunately, you had also left your new address in case you received mail there. Soon Peña went towards Y/N's house.

“Do you need help?”, asked a lady who lived in the next apartment when she heard someone knocking on the door non-stop.

“Is this where Y/N lives?”

"Oh yes. But she is not at home.” Again?

“And do you know when she comes back?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Well, thank you very much.”

“But I can tell you where she must be now. She spends entire afternoons there.”

It was 5 pm and the sun was already starting to set. You were on your usual bench in Central Park, book on your lap, reading. He saw you from a distance, from behind, and, approaching slowly, he reached your side.

“Is this seat empty?” Peña asked with a smile. Your whole body shivered at the sound of his voice, your head immediately snapping back. You couldn't believe he was there, in front of you. But you didn't know what to do, what to say. So much time had passed. Had he moved on?

"No. Feel free.” Peña walked around the bench and sat next to you.

“Do you come here often?” Javi asked.

“Yes, it helps me think. And it's also a great place to read. I love to read."

“And what are you thinking about?”

“About my life, about my future. I recently became unemployed and still don't know what to do next. Start a new life, I think. And you? It's the first time I've seen you here."

"I just arrived. I was transfered to New York, for work. Starting a new life too. I came here alone, without anyone, without knowing the city, without friends here.”

“There are some bars out there where you can meet a lot of people, make a lot of friends.”

"Hmmmm. I don't know if those are the friendships I'm looking for.”

“Oh no? What are you looking for then?”

"I don't know. People who spend hours on a park bench reading, perhaps?”

“Look how lucky you are.” And saying this, you stretched out your hand. “My name is Y/N. Pleasure."

With a big smile on Peña's lips, he accepted your hand, squeezing it lightly. “Javier. Javier Peña.”

"Peña? Beautiful name. Peña. I like the way it rolls out of my tongue.”

"Really? Funny that you say that... The only woman I loved in my life used to say the same thing.”

“The only woman, hmm?”

"Yes. Now and forever."

And so the two of you stayed side by side, watching the sunset in front of you, ready to start over, ready to start a new life.

TAG: @ttupelohoneyy @random-fandom-lady @appleperson2 @kirsteng42 @thelittleames @smashcrabsblog @viraghideg-blog @brendacookie13 @josiequantterbirk @anxiousbeech @omgbubble @feyredarling92 @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @ihave7wings @bees-fart-too @hoesheartme @itsyassbitch @xyz32 @beboldbebravethings @hopelessromantic727 @iamsenamentes94 @a-e-i-owe-you @xohmygosh @noelwen @longagoandfaraway @snowglobz @kiaradaniell @beanie513 @avenget @ermalicious @hermionelaufeyson @merlin-harry-percy @blueseastorm @welcome2my-darkside @hxpburn76 @pedroschmedro @hxpburn76 @amaraluvsyou @imherefordeanandbones @76bookworm76 @dandilionbuttercup-blog @nice-nice-dazey @friedbasementwonderland @morallyinept @lizette50 @cadedecides @tiwilleger @beckysmiler @thispoisonandwine @zell-quinn @mjoee13 @supernaturallover2002 @yt-123 @suckonmydickchokeonit @acnickelsblog @boldlybriefnight @imtryingtocare-y @jenna-mcgraw19 @missladym1981 @coffeeandcuriosities @nervousplaidtacoweasel @purplebellas @drewxoxo @www-me

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal sexy #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javi pena x reader #javi pena #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos

[maidulooknyc]

#cleaning services nyc #nyc cleaning service #maid service nyc #new york cleaning service #apartment cleaning nyc

[apoptoses]

🧠 (Daniel) & 🤩

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them.

okay so Daniel:

horrifically messy. living out of a suitcase for years did a number on his ability to keep a space organized, then living on night island where they almost certainly had maid service spoiled him to the point he just doesn't clean up after himself. #1 most likely culprit in the mystery of 'who left their socks on the living room floor AGAIN' at trinity gate.

i've said it before but i'll say it again: star trek nerd, his first crush was spock and that rewired his brain and primed him to fall for another weird, inhuman being with a dry sense of humor and difficult to read emotions.

nervous flyer, despite all the traveling he did. whether that's from the fear of turning and finding armand in the seat next to him during the chase years, or just because being trapped in an airplane is so unnatural, he always had a couple glasses of whiskey in the airport lounge to take the edge off before a flight (something he misses being able to do as an immortal now, because unless he can find a drunk traveler to steal a nip off he just has to grit his teeth and deal).

contrary to fanon, not that great with technology lol he's got a can do attitude and will try his damndest to fix the wifi when it goes down, but smart cars with computers in the dash board? every appliance in the house needing internet or blue tooth? he'll take the old school mechanical stuff you can repair yourself, thanks. trinity gate has a speed queen washing machine from the 90s because he refuses to push more than three buttons to do his clothes.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

oh wow HM who could it be??

i just really like armand's pov, he's got so much going on in his head, he's always a little out of place. you can just dig SO deep with him and his eccentricities. and there's so much in QotD that anne just montage'd. we don't get a real explanation for why he moved apartments so much, what drove him to leave new york for night island, why he wanted to visit annapurna.

you could take it all at face value (he liked trying on new clothes because they're something different!) or you can really mine the psychology behind it (issues with not having the freedom to choose his own looks most of his life, the desire to try on personas because he doesn't know who he is, wanting to torment daniel because he knows daniel drools over a man in tight high waisted jeans- the possibilities are endless!!)

he's weird, he's sad, he's fun, i adore him and all his crimes ♥

#apoptoses answers

[dailyunsolvedmysteries-movedd]

The Unsolved Killing of Georgette Bauerdorf

Georgette Bauerdorf was a young socialite with a grand future—until 1944, when her life was cut short in the dead of the night. Born to an oil tycoon in New York City in 1924, Georgette lived a life of privilege. She and her older sister attended a convent school on Long Island, where they were trained in goodness and propriety. When the girls’ mother died in 1935, the Bauerdorf siblings and their father moved to California, where Georgette was once again enrolled in a school that befit her place in society—alumnae of the Westlake School for Girls in Los Angeles included Shirley Temple and Myrna Loy.

Upon graduation in 1941, Georgette moved to West Hollywood to pursue an acting career. By the age of 20, she found work at the Los Angeles Times in the Women’s Service Bureau and at the Hollywood Canteen—a dining and dancing club that catered to young men in uniform. Georgette called El Palacia her home, a grand Spanish-style house that played host to numerous celebrities. Her evenings were filled with nights out on the town; she was courted often and enjoyed the attention of her many suitors. 

Exactly what happened on the night of October 11, 1944 remains a mystery. It was a Wednesday; Georgette was at the Canteen, where her role as a Junior Hostess meant she danced with and entertained the servicemen on layover in Los Angeles. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary that night. At the end of her shift, she climbed into her sister’s Pontiac coupe and drove home. At 11:00 a.m. that following morning, Georgette’s maid and a janitor arrived to clean her apartment. They were met with an unlocked front door. The cleaners entered and found Georgette’s lifeless body face down in her bathtub, the water still running.

She was wearing the top part of a pajama set. Her hair floated in the water. When police surveyed the scene, they found little evidence of a struggle—though the coroner later confirmed the bruises on Georgette’s body suggested she put up a fight before her death. A partially unscrewed light bulb outside her front door led investigators to believe that her killer had hidden in the darkness, perhaps even entering the apartment before Georgette arrived, lying in wait to make a move.

Police assembled a rough timeline of Georgette’s final moments: They believe she came home late, ate a snack in her kitchen, and was then killed by someone who may or may not have been a stranger. A downstairs neighbor heard screaming at about 2:30 a.m., along with shouts of “Stop! You’re killing me!” The neighbor assumed it was a domestic dispute and returned to sleep. The janitor himself claimed he heard the sounds of high-heeled footsteps from Georgette’s apartment, and then a crash—as if something had been dropped—yet he couldn’t confirm if there had been a second person in her apartment. Whatever occurred, Georgette’s last moments were certainly a desperate attempt to save her own life.

In the days following the murder, police received a letter from a Sergeant Gordon Aadland. Aadland claimed that a woman matching Georgette’s description gave him a lift through Hollywood on the night of October 11. In the letter, he described the woman as appearing quite nervous, though he would downplay this claim in later years. The killer, meanwhile, vanished into the night after the slaying, driving off in Georgette’s car. The vehicle was found some distance away, abandoned and out of gas. It was the last trace of the killer in a case that quickly went cold. Georgette 

Some speculators associate Georgette’s death with that of Elizabeth Short, a.k.a. the Black Dahlia, claiming that the same man murdered the two Hollywood hopefuls. Implicated in this theory is a tall individual with a limp named Jack Anderson Wilson, who plays a part—although peripherally—in both stories. The murder remains a mystery to this day. Seventy years from that fateful night, there’s little chance that Georgette’s death will ever be solved.

#Georgette Bauerdorf #true crime #crime #UNSOLVED MYSTERIES #unsolved #killers #cold cases

[haggishlyhagging]

“There was one last matter to clean up before the triumph of (male) scientific medicine would be complete, and that was the ‘midwife problem.’ In 1900, 50 percent of the babies born were still being delivered by midwives. Middle- and upper-class women had long since accepted the medical idea of childbirth as a pathological event requiring the intervention and supervision of a (preferably regular) physician. It was the ‘lower’ half of society which clung to the midwife and her services: the rural poor and the immigrant working class in the cities. What made the midwives into a ‘problem’ was then not so much the matter of direct competition; the regular doctors were not interested in taking the midwife's place in a Mississippi sharecropper's shack or a sixth-story walk-up apartment in one of New York's slums. (Although one exceptionally venal physician went to the trouble of calculating all the fees ‘lost’ to doctors on account of midwifery). It only makes sense to speak of ‘competition’ between people in the same line of business; and this was not the case with the midwives and the doctors.

The work of a midwife cannot be contained in a phrase like ‘practicing medicine.’ The early-twentieth-century midwife was an integral part of her community and culture. She spoke the mother's language, which might be Italian, Yiddish, Polish, Russian. She was familiar not only with obstetrical techniques, but with the prayers and herbs that sometimes helped. She knew the correct ritual for disposing of the afterbirth, greeting the newborn or, if necessary, laying to rest the dead. She was prepared to live with the family from the onset of labor until the mother was fully recovered. If she was a southern black midwife, she often regarded the service as a religious calling:

"Mary Carter," she [an older midwife] told me, "I'm getting old and I done been on this journey for 45 years. I am tired. I won't give up until the Lord replace me with someone. When I asked the Lord, he showed me you."

The [young] midwife responded, "Uh, uh, Aunt Minnie, the Lord didn't show you me." She say, "Yes Sir, you got to serve. You can't get from under it."

She did serve because, repeatedly, "Something come to me, within me, say, 'Go ahead and do the best you can.'"

All of this was highly ‘unscientific,’ not to mention unbusinesslike. But the problem, from the point of view of medical leaders, was that the midwife was in the way of the development of modern institutional medicine. One of the reforms advanced by medicine's scientific elite was that students should be exposed somewhere along the line not only to laboratories and lectures but to live patients. But which live patients? Given the choice, most people would want to avoid being an object of practice for inexperienced medical students. Certainly no decent woman in 1900 would want her delivery witnessed by any unnecessary young males. The only choice was the people who had the least choice—the poor. And so the medical schools, the most ‘advanced’ ones anyway, began to attach themselves parasitically to the nearest ‘charity’ hospital. In an arrangement which has flourished ever since, the medical school offered its medical trainees as staff for the hospital; the hospital in turn provided the raw ‘material’ for medical education—the bodies of the sick poor. The moral ambiguities in this situation were easily rationalized away by the leaders of scientific medicine. As a doctor on the staff of Cornell Medical College put it:

There are heroes of war, who give up their lives on the field of battle for country and for principle, and medical heroes of peace, who brave the dangers and horrors of pestilence to save life; but the homeless, friendless, degraded and possibly criminal sick poor in the wards of a charity hospital, receiving aid and comfort in their extremity and contributing each one his modest share to the advancement of medical science, render even greater service to humanity.

Medical science now called on poor women to make their contribution to that ‘most beneficent and disinterested of professions.’ Obstetrics-gynecology was America's most rapidly developing specialty, and midwives would just have to get out of the way.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

#barbara ehrenreich #Deirdre English #midwifery #amerika #male medicine #female exploitation #poor female exploitation

[floosies]

Radio

early 2000s au

eddie munson x oc!fem

warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing, eventual smut, mentions of abuse, friends to lovers 18+

(a/n: this chapter will focus on the troubled teen industry, which I did research on during one of my law classes back in college. its a sensitive topic so you can totally skip this chapter its sort of filler of what happened during their time apart from each other '10- early 2011.)

"I'd rather go to hell than be in purgatory. Cut my hair, gag and bore me. Pull this pin, let this world explode"

Purgatory ( the months of failures and success 2010-2011)

It all happened so quickly, which she had prepared for mentally. She didn't fight whatever was happening, she was just told that they were taking her to where she would get help. Placing her in a van with blacked out windows, she stared at her parents wondering why they ever even chose to become parents. The van drove for a whole day, no one spoke to her after the first couple of miles, they only spoke to explain what would happen when she got to the 'boot camp'.

Her belongings were taken from her and she was told that her parents placed her in the program because of her behavior. Instantly, she knew this was going to be like a prison. Every day was some sort of manual labor and any sort of attitude or supposed disobedience was met with all sorts of punishments from cleaning to being made to sleep out in the woods for as many nights as they deemed necessary. Sometimes they wouldn't get dinner, and the food wasn't even a meal just small things.

She never bothered to write to her parents or use her calls on them. Just to her best friend to ask how people were, still even that was heavily monitored. It was though, how she found out about Eddie leaving Hawkins and about the band blowing up. In her heart she was happy for him, but a part of her broke knowing she wasn't with him. Still her friend always reassured her that Eddie had loved her and even told Julie about what he did at her parent's house. It was the only small bit of hope she clung to when it came to him.

During those months in her incarceration she had made friends with a girl who was similar in age to her. Her name was Charlotte which she hated because of the book and how growing up people always asked if she was named after it. They both bonded over their style and music taste, which got them into more trouble at times. One night it even led to both of them having to sleep in the woods, which was something they tried to avoid from happening again.

Due to their closeness in age, they were both brought into some sort office in the facility, where they were told they would be getting released out of the program soon. In the state they were currently in, they could not be held after eighteen which technically meant they were free to leave. When they did get released Julie had made a decision to do like Eddie and leave Hawkins behind. There wasn't any real reason to go back to that place. Graduation and prom had already happened by the time she was out.

Charlotte had mentioned how she had planned to go to New York, in her possessions was a credit card her grandma had given her. She had mentioned to Julie that her family was wealthy and only really did this to her to get rid of her for some time. It was fucked, and Charlotte agreed but didn't really care because she was just going to start over. Julie asked if she could join her, promising that she would work for her end of whatever payments or bills that had to be paid. Her new friend shrugged saying it wasn't that big of a deal.

-

Inheritance had been a hell of a savior, as soon as they bought their plane tickets and landed in New York, they had a place to stay. Julie hadn't gone into the facility with much. She had brought her phone but it hadn't been paid, so no service, and her wallet only had twenty bucks and her ID's. Apart from that was a small duffel of clothes her parents had packed for her. So once they arrived and cleaned up, Charlotte let her use the card she had to buy new clothes and what not.

Within the month they had started to make do with their situation. Where Charlotte didn't really care for finding a job, Julie did and when she found one she started saving to have enough to replace her belongings and pay for rent. Eventually though Charlotte did get a job working for a friend of her family, who was close to her grandmother.

In-between all the working and saving though, they started going out to the clubs around the Manhattan area. Documenting everything through pictures and being asked back by promoters who had found both girls 'pretty' enough to help bring people in. It was how Julie ended up befriending Alexa Chung one night. She had no clue who this girl was, but everyone around them at the club did, and at the same time, Julie and Charlotte were just as popular in that spot. It led to them talking about it the whole night and soon enough Alexa's agency wanted to talk to both of the girls.

By the late summer the girls had signed onto a modeling agency and gotten approved for work visas to enter the UK. Julie wasn't as picky as her friend had been about everything, she started doing ads for shops and magazines, being a guest interviewer for music channels and online radio shows. People loved her sweet demeanor and cheeky manner. Lottie never held it against her, she knew Julie didn't grow up in the limelight like she had so she let her friend make her way on her own.

With this new freedom, it didn't take long for her to make drastic changes. She didn't want to be found and she didn't want her past to exist anymore, so with her agent and publicist she got on a flight to Indianapolis and signed all the paperwork that would change her name, she'd chosen something slightly foreign and bubbly sounding, Francesca Thompson, the name added with a nickname, Frenchie, was a hit, her team agreed the decision to make the change helped her career immensely.

-

Frenchie had been reborn and her popularity in the indie scene had begun to bloom. Everyone spoke about her as Alexa Chung's sister from another mister. However, where Alexa was dating someone in her scene, Frenchie had a thing for guys who reminded her of the guy who had stole her heart. Though she never wanted to forget Eddie, she knew by looking at his social media and magazine articles that he had moved on. She was happy for him though, she always look out for him and the band, but now as a fan. By the end of 2010, she had found herself with this new guy who was coming up with his band.

He was something of a mix between Julian Casablanca and Oli Sykes but he wasn't either and his band was well into the metal scene. Nothing about him was similar to Eddie though, they didn't click as quickly but his piercings and tattoos made her feel like she could make believe. Both of them were on the come up and their fans ate up their relationship.

They entered the new year with his band and her modeling gigs blowing up. Their names synonymous with each other's careers. It was beginning to get easy to forget what once had been. She was a whole new person in love with someone who was close enough to home without the pain it once carried.

-

Eddie was touring, the band growing in success and notoriety through the approval of all the older groups who insisted that Corroded Coffin carried the spirit of metal into the present day. Ever the front man he didn't mind being on the front page if meant people were tuning into what the band was playing. Of course it wasn't what he wanted the focus to be on, but he'd grown up on Fred Durst doing outlandish shit all the time so what did it really matter?

He'd tried to look for her every once in a while, but there was nothing to be found. Julie's best friend had only mentioned once that Julie was safe, but what did that mean and why wouldn't she speak to him? He never got answers, but in his heart she was always going to be his first true love. Where ever she was he only hoped she thought of him the way he thought of her, but he moved onto someone new.

-

In September of 2011, there was a business party for her boyfriend's record label, of course he took her as his plus one. The night was going well til she saw them walk in, there he was with the boys. They looked so different now, well put together and groomed, something she'd never seen Eddie as before. They didn't speak, she stood beside her boyfriend the whole night.

Only for a brief moment did they pass each other as she went to grab some more drinks from the open bar. He just barely glanced at her apologizing for reaching over her to get some beers from the ice bucket beside her. Though their eyes met, its as if they were complete strangers. Her hair was platinum blonde now, his was cut short and there was a stud in his ear where there hadn't been a couple years back.

That night when she got back to her place, she lied about a migraine from the drinks to get her boyfriend to let her be for the night with the promise of brunch in the afternoon. In reality she spent the remainder of the night crying in her bed to an old picture she had of her and Eddie from their last hang out at the band's gig.

Meanwhile Eddie got drunk that night, his mind thinking back to how familiar that blonde at the bar looked. His mind couldn't piece it together, how something about her eyes reminded him of someone or something. However with the liquor in his system and a flight in the morning he started to forget about her as quickly as he thought about her in the first place.

taglist: @writinginthetwilight

#eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #stranger things #joseph quinn #rockstar gf