#go on. sit on your flimsy director’s chair and tell me everything about why and how you did the thing. I’ve still got popcorn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jae-daddy · 3 years

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Duff (7)

im jaebum au series

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine masterlist

pairing: im jaebum x reader genre: angst, smut, cheating, CEO! plot: you are the duff and guys use you to get close to your best friend, Heather, and turns out Jaebum is no exception, but as time goes on the tension between you and your best friend’s unofficial boyfriend grows a/n: if ya like send something in or leave a comment! I love reading them! next part is going to be interesting, hope yall liked the bit of spice. not edited, hope y’all enjoy it! <3

“Stop,” Jaebum ordered.

Every nerve in your body told you to disobey and continue to walk out of his office, but your feet stopped. Your back faced him as your eyes settled on the plain dull wall in front of you, save for a painting that wasn’t much interesting.

It wasn’t truly his office yet. Jaebum hadn’t added any personal touches to the cold space in the past month of him acting Director. He remained detached from the office, employees and the job as much as he could.

Except for you, Jaebum always seemed to be looking for a way to get under your skin. Find new ways to bother you, to annoy you. It was almost as if he enjoyed seeing you fume at him with anger. Your face red with fury brought him peace and happiness. It made that easy cocky smirk on his lips grow each time his melting eyes met your raging ones.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said.

You didn’t turn around instantly. Instead, you took a deep breath in and turned with a vacant expression, “I’m sorry, sir. Was there something you needed?”

Jaebum shifted in the chair, annoyed. Once again, he wasn’t seated in the big boss chair on the other side of the desk. He chose one of the two placed on the other side instead, with papers splayed out in front of him, on the desk.

Your eyes went to the mess and your lips pursed. Your hands itched by your side to sort through the junk and organise everything in a proper fashion. But Jaebum knew what he was doing, he knew exactly where each paper was. He worked like a genius; chaotic and completely self-relied.

You looked back at him to find his lips drawn into a thin line, his brows drawn together as he stared up at you. For the first time, Im Jaebum did not have the cocky smile that normally danced on his lips. His eyes didn’t watch you as if he understood every thought that zoomed through your head.

He looked at you utterly lost, distraught and confused.

“Don’t try to play this game, y/n. Stop that, tell me what’s wrong, why have you been avoiding me.”

He was almost begging at this point, and for the first time in the past week, you smiled. It wasn’t a kind smile, it was cruel and relished his misery. Your tight posture relaxed as you tilted your head holding his troubled gaze as you sang, almost taunting, “I have no idea what you are talking about. I have not been avoiding you, sir.”

Jaebum rose out of his seat and towered over you in an instant. He gritted, “Stop calling me that.”

“Calling you what, sir?”

Jaebum’s eyes darkened as he took another step towards you. You didn’t move away, you held your ground, your head tilting back to meet his stormy gaze. His jaw ticked as he sneered, “Do you enjoy this? Do you find pleasure in torturing me like this?”

“Torturing you?” You tsked, the smirk on your face growing, hiding the pounding heartbeat in your ears. You turned walking away before spinning on your red-bottom heels, “If someone were to hear, they’d think I was actually hurting you, sir.”

“Stop it!” He spat, the anger leaving him. All Jaebum was left with was desperateness as he continued, “Stop calling me sir, y/n. I’m trying to have a conversation with you as a friend--”

“A friend?” You chuckled, cutting him off. “We are not friends.”

“So we’re back to this again?”

“Yes, we are.” It was your turn to sneer at him as you took a step towards him. All coolness evaded your body and all you felt was red and hot. Anger sparked through every core of your body, your eyes shone with distaste, as you looked down your nose at him, “I will never be friends with a loathsome disgusting dog like you.”

“Dog?” Jaebum snickered at the weak insult, but the embers of the fire began lighting up inside him as he watched your lips draw into a scowl.

“Yes, a dog. A terrible, horrible cheating dog.”

“Is that the best you can do?” Jaebum jeered raising his eyebrows mockingly. “Call me a dog and say nonsense?”

“I am not speaking nonsense, you bastard,” you spat. Jaebum flinched at your words, but you continued, the fire blazing inside you. “I saw you and that woman in your office that day. Don’t think I will forget that easily. I know how disgusting you are.”

“What day--”

“Or do you mean which day-” you cut him off, stepping closer to him. The poison hissing from your tongue, “You have flirted with any woman that you ever crossed path with; at the club, at work! It doesn’t matter to you that you have a girlfriend, and you might think it’s okay, but it is not. I would never do that to my friend. I won’t sit back and hold my tongue-”

“Then why haven’t you done something about it if I’m so bad,” Jaebum cut you off this time. The easy smile returned on his lips, dancing with malice as he looked down at you as if you were a crazy lady talking about stars and the end of the world. “If you can’t differentiate between being friendly with others and flirting, then that’s on you, not on me. It’s not my fault you're an emotionless closed off mumpsimus who doesn’t know that people can simply just be nice to one to another--”

“Yes!” You scoffed up at him. “Because almost fucking a lady on your desk is just being friendly.”

“I was not about to fuck her!”

“Oh yeah?” You nodded, sarcastic.

“I was not cheating. I was not flirting with her.”

“Then what were you doing, Jaebum?” Your eyes were blazing with so much rage you felt as if it would consume you. “Do you hug everyone on your desk? How did Paul like it when you dry-humped him on the desk and called it a friendly hug?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Jaebum groaned, “It was just a hug and she slipped! I was helping her get steady!”

“And I just happened to walk in that exact moment. What a crazy coincidence!”

“If you’re so certain, why haven’t you told anyone then?” Jaebum questioned, after a deep breath. “You tell Heather everything, why haven’t you told her this yet?”

“She already knows what I think of you.”

Jaebum tried not to flinch at your words, “But have you told her about what you apparently saw last week in this office?”

Your cheeks painted red, as you tore your eyes away from him. You stared at the wicked desk instead, “No.”

“Why not?” He drawled, as he took a step closer towards you.

Your chest swelled with resentment as you refused to look at him and the victorious smile you knew was on his lips. You bit your tongue before you answered, each word cutting your throat, “I was not sure.”

“What was that?” He crooned, you could hear his smile. You felt the chuckle in his cool breath as it brushed your forehead. When you didn’t reply, Jaebum placed a finger under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet his.

His haunting gaze still shone with anger, but his lips painted the picture of the easy ocean after a stormy night.

You wanted to smack that smile from his lips. You wanted to erase the victory bubbling inside of him. You met his eyes, not looking way. Your mind repeating one thought over and over again.

I hate you.

It was unfair to blame all these emotions on Im Jaebum when it was not all his doing. You knew Jaebum wasn’t a flirt by choice, but by nature. He was like a golden retriever who couldn’t help but spread love wherever he went. And he didn’t just get friendly with any woman around his age, but with old grandmas, mothers, other males and grandfathers too. It was just who he was.

You knew you were being harsh, you knew it. But you couldn’t back down.

You would rather blame it on Jaebum. You would rather pretend that it was all his fault that you hadn’t been smiling, sleeping or eating this past week. You didn’t want to give that asshole this power over you; you didn’t want to admit the power he still had over you.

Jaebum’s eyes searched yours and the storm in them vanished. His eyes held yours, his fingers on your chin holding you in place as he searched through your mind. And just like always, he finally found the answer. You saw the recognition shine in his eyes; he knew this wasn’t about him.

You knew it wasn’t this that you had you so removed from life. But it wasn’t like Jaebum didn’t do anything wrong too. You still didn’t know what had happened between Jaebum and that lady, or more like, what would have happened had you not walked in at that moment.

“I walked in too early, Im Jaebum,” you exhaled, the venom dancing on your tongue as you met his cool gaze. Your eyes burned bright once again in accusation, “If I had walked in a second later, I would have caught you red-handed.”

“Red-handed?” Jaebum repeated, the smile easy on his lips, the raise of his eyebrows graceful, “Red-handed doing what exactly?”

You glared at him, “I would have found you about to fuck her.”

Jaebum chuckled in reply. The burn of his fingers easing on your chin. He opened his eyes, a new kind of darkness in his eyes; his lips smirking with secrecy.

His fingers lingered on your chin, his thumb grazing your lower lip, his eyes falling for a moment. Your heart stopped when you saw him lean in closer, but then he stopped.

His fingers were a whisper against your skin. It lightly traced down your throat, over your faint collarbones and over your shoulders. His fingertips grazed down your back smoothly, his touch burning through the flimsy white shirt you wore. His fingers stopped on your lower back, before both his hands landed on your hips. His fingers spreading over the curve, searing you with its touch.

His hands gently nudged you backwards, making you take a step back. Jaebum’s steps followed you, making you walk backwards until you felt the edge of the dark wood on your lower back.

Jaebum’s eyes never left yours as he eased you onto the desk. Your legs parted effortlessly as Jaebum slipped between them; your skirt bunching up as it rose up your thigh. Jaebum’s hands finally left your body and your chest expanded.

The ghost of his touch burned you with its sudden coldness.

A strong arm reached behind you on the right. His left hand fell on your knees, slowly, dangerously moving up.

You weren’t breathing; you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move under his touch.

You couldn’t move under his heated gaze.

Jaebum’s eyes did not leave yours as he leaned in closer. His dark eyes flickering to your lips, a knowing small smile on his lips as your chest heaved. You gulped nervously as his lips drew closer, so close you could taste his breath on your tongue.

You closed your eyes as you felt him lean in closer. His tortuously slow left hand deliciously moved higher, his fingertips gracing the inside of your thighs.

His lips touched you, barely missing your lips. A small sigh left you, and you felt a smile blossom on his soft lips. Jaebum placed another kiss, lower, and then another. Another soft sigh fell from your lips when his lips kissed your neck; you felt his lips drag upwards towards your ear.

His fingertips dug into your thighs, as he gently blew into your ear. You held your breath to stop the whimper from escaping you. You felt so hot; you were sure if Jaebum's fingers as much as travelled any bit further he would be able to feel your body reacting to him.

You could feel your core tangled and a mess of nerves, and a heartbeat down below, in anticipation.

“I have barely touched you and you’re such a beautiful little mess, love,” Jaebum whispered into your ear. You closed your eyes swallowing the painful truth in his words and the shame climbing over your body. “Trust me, if I ever wanted to fuck someone you wouldn’t have to guess. You would know.”

You believed him. If something more was happening that day, you would have known.

You felt him move away, but you kept your eyes closed. Your breath leaving you shakingly as you tried to regain control over yourself. You could feel him look at you; you felt his gaze burn you as he took you in.

You wondered what he saw. How much could he see?

Could he see your cheeks deep with a blush? Your lips wet with anticipation? Your chest heaving? Your breath shattering? All because of him and his nearness, how much could he see... what did he think of it...

Could he see your mind racing with thoughts of him? Racing with all that could happen next? His lips on yours, your moans filling up the quiet office as he groaned, filling you up, spreading you wide open on his desk.

Could he see how you were trying to control yourself?

You opened your eyes and wished you hadn’t. You would rather see them clouded with rage, even unfiltered lust would be better than the softness you found. The honey brown in his eyes met your gaze with desire, want and longing.

It was disgusting.

It was terrible.

It was horrifying how Im Jaebum could make you feel when he was looking at you like that. As if his hands burned beside him, begging to touch you. As if he would cease to exist if he did not touch you, kiss you, hold you. As if you were all he could ever want in the world, but you were the only thing he could never have.

You would rather take animalistic lust over that.

You tore your eyes away from him. Jaebum took a step back and you hopped off the desk. You straightened your skirt avoiding his face. But Im Jaebum wasn’t looking at you as well, his gaze focused on the floor but his mind somewhere far away.

“I won’t worry Heather with this,” you croaked out. Jaebum nodded absent-mindedly, and you began walking out. You were almost to the door when you stopped. You bit your lip, unsure, but decided to say it anyway, “Don’t take it personally, Jaebum. It’s not you, I’ve just been in a mood and caught up with something else. I- I guess, that’s why you thought I was avoiding you.”

“Oh,” Jaebum replied, softly. You turned around to find him giving you all his attention, “Is there something I can do to help you?”

You shook your head with a small smile, “No.”

The moment you had been dreading finally arrived that afternoon.

“Good evening, Meridian Firm,” you answered, automatically. You hated answering phone calls, you would rather email.

“Hello, I’m calling from Spring Industries-”

You knew. You knew.

“I’m calling on behalf of our CEO Park Jinyoung,” the lady on the other spoke, and you tried to control your breathing. “He would like a meeting with Director Im.”

“I will let Director Im know.”

“Can we pencil a meeting date right now, and you can confirm it later? My boss really wants an answer,” the lady on the side spoke sounding more humane.

You knew what she meant by that too. You knew how he got when he didn't get what he wanted.

“Of course,” you pulled out the calendar planner looking for the next empty date, “How is next week Thursday at five-thirty in the evening?”

“Hmm, let me check,” you heard a few clicks on the other side, and prayed it wouldn’t match. “Oh, perfect! Hope to hear from you soon!”

“Alright, goodbye,” you say before hanging up. You sighed, tired, as you run your fingers through your hair.

You knew this moment was coming, but you hadn't expected it to come so soon. You weren’t sure if you were ready. Your stomach churned at the thought of seeing him again.

“Hey, you alright?”

You looked up to find Im Jaebum standing by your desk with concerned eyes. You nodded, smiling slightly at how adorable he looked worried, “I’m good.”

“I...” he started but trailed off. “Let’s go get dinner.”

You were about to say no when he added, “Heather and Bam are already on their way. And Heather said she wants you there.”

You sighed, exhausted, “Alright.”

“Oh, and uh,” you paused, biting your lips, breathless. “The CEO of Spring Industries wants to meet you next week Thursday at five-thirty, how should I reply?”

“Am I free?” You nodded in reply. Jaebum just shrugged, nonchalant, “Cool, tell them yes.”

You nodded once again, doom already clouding over you.

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achubbydumpling · 3 years

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[unfinished] Pile It On

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1561

Relationship: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Not underage, Fat camp, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Fat!Bucky

So, I had a great conversation with @wotvagyok about my fat camp AU Bucky and what might've led to Bucky breaking a bed like I mentioned in this ficlet. Thanks for the inspiration!

(I'm sorry, I can't think anymore right now. I'll fill in the spaces tomorrow, but if I don't publish this right now I'll probably not finish this challenge at all.)

“Team Cap sets up their attack, Wanda touches, high ark to Wilson, Rogers is probably their best chance at winning… but, no, Wilson sets for Barnes, is that the right decision? Let’s see if he can even get off the ground to—Barnes kills it! Stark can’t block that and with that his team is out! 21-19! A neck-and-neck race all the way. Congratulations, Team Cap!” Thor excitedly commentates jumping up from the beach.

The entire team piled onto Bucky to hug him and scream in his ear. Steve gave him a very bro-hug, grinning wide and shouting at Bucky.

“That jump was insane!” Steve yelled at him again.

“You’ve said that.” Bucky’s cheeks ached from how much he was smiling.

“I know!” Steve said in the same tone of voice, then squeezed Bucky tightly one last time and quietly added, “See you after lunch” with pointedly raised eyebrows, like Bucky wouldn’t immediately get what he was hinting at.

Read on AO3

They’d worked out a pretty good system over the past few summers. Plus, Bucky knew that quiet tone of voice all too well and Steve basically saying out loud that he’d sneak away to Bucky’s cabin in his lunch break? For a second everything outside of those words and Steve’s body pressed against him faded away.

However, the chatter of all the other campers came crashing back into Bucky’s consciousness when Steve turned away and started directing the other campers to the dining hall like he didn’t just—

Breathe, Barnes, he chastised himself and made his (very sore) legs to the dining hall. Scarf down the bland food, charm (beg) his way into seconds, head to the cabin and eat whatever Steve stashed there during his morning “contraband” sweep.

[...]

“Yeah, to make sure no one would find everything. Why didn’t you check the top bunk?”

“It says on the bed post the top bunk is only rated for 300 pounds?”

“Oh. Well, you don’t weigh that much more.”

“Yeah, just like 100 pounds.” Another cramp from his overstuffed belly forced a groan out of him. “Feels like double that right now.” Steve quirked his eyebrow and flicked his eyes at the ladder to the top bunk. Steve’s blue eyes darkened with the fantasy he was clearly playing out in his head right now. The air punched out of Bucky’s lungs.

“What if I break it?” he whispered. He couldn’t force himself to speak up. This— Sure, a flimsy chair had broken under the weight he’d piled on, but a bed? He’d have to tell someone. A sickeningly hot twist of pleasure raced down his spine. He’d have to admit out loud—

“Go on,” Steve interrupted his thought process, pushing Bucky to say that out loud.

“I’d— Fuck, I’d have to tell a counsellor. They’d probably take me to see Fury.” Steve swallowed drily.

“Why would they take you to the director?” Steve’s hands were clenched in fists on Bucky’s gut, belly rub forgotten for the moment.

“Get me weighed.” Steve nodded encouragingly, whispering “Why?”

“If I broke it now— Must’ve gained weight.” Bucky whined low in his throat and grabbed uselessly at the expanse of his belly before him.

“You’ve been here three weeks, you really should’ve lost some weight by now.” Steve pushed himself up from where he was sitting next to Bucky and straddled him. He pushed both his hands into the fat overhang spilling over his waistband and heaved Bucky’s belly up. Muscles and tendons working in his forearms.

“But I can barely lift this thing up.” Steve teased, then let go, letting all the fat slap back onto Bucky’s legs. That jostled his overstuffed gut so badly, Bucky wanted to curl into himself, but he was effectively immobilized by the weight of his gluttony.

The heat of his humiliation sparked his arousal like tinder. He was achingly hard. Trapped against his own fat. Twitching. Trying to rut into that friction. Steve shoved his hand between his fat pad and the fat hanging over it to blindly grab for his dick. When he found that bit of hardness, he squeezed. Tight.

“Not yet. You eat what I give you.” Bucky screwed his eyes shut and shook his head.

“Can’t,” he whined, shook his head again. Steve’s unyielding grip kept Bucky from coming all over himself at just imagining himself crawling up there and eating even more.

“Yes.” The command pierced through Bucky’s middle, making him squirm.

[...]

Dry heat raced through his core, having him press his hand over his dick. He was riding that edge so violently he felt like he should be coming all over his own fingers, but his briefs were still only stained by that spot of precum.

“Oh, fuck, get down here. You just— Bucky!” Steve was scrambling at his back, helping him back down the ladder. Once he was firmly back on the floor, Steve plunged his hand into Bucky’s briefs. Mouth on his neck. Other hand on Bucky’s sweat-slicked sides.

Steve jerked him fast and inelegantly, but Bucky didn’t care in that moment. Too consumed by the realisation that he’d gained enough weight to break the top bunk without even putting his full weight on it. Steve gasping, “you cracked the slats,” finally got him over the edge. Coming over Steve’s hands in his brief.

Bucky’s knees finally buckled under him, and Steve manoeuvred him to lie back down on the bottom bunk, which he was also rapidly outgrowing with the amount of calories he was consuming daily. Bucky was still caught up in the afterglow to help Steve much with getting off. He just felt bone-deep tired.

Steve was standing in front of the bed, one arm propped against the frame and resting his forehead against it. Bucky felt impossibly fatter when he let his head fall forward to look at Steve. He could feel his double-chin bunching up around his neck. His body taking up half his field of view.

Bucky couldn’t even see Steve’s hand on his dick, just the repetitive movement of his arm. The way the muscles moved, his right pec flexed and relaxed again and again. His whole body slightly jerking every time he fucked his hips up into his own fist. The bitten-off moans on his lips. All that over Bucky. The milky soft mountain of fat sitting on his upper body. The solid mass of food rounding out his stomach.

Steve’s forehead slipped off his arm and he just let his head hang for a moment. Then snapped up and locked eyes with Bucky. His pupils blown wide, lips bitten raw and coming over his own hand and torso.

Something fluttered and clenched when Steve climbed slowly onto the bed, wiped them both down with Bucky’s discarded shirt and tucked himself into Bucky’s side.

Bucky’s head reeled with a sudden realisation.

“What are we going to do about the bed?” Instead of answering Steve curled further into himself and hummed noncommittally.

“Hey, I’m serious. I don’t want to get kicked out.”

“Slat’s barely cracked, ‘ll tell Fury after end-of-summer check-in. They’re not gonna kick you out.”

“Maybe not, but I don’t think they’ll let me back in next year.” Bucky rubbed at the back of his head. “Maybe you could—I don’t know—come up to my place or something.”

Steve opened his eyes again but didn’t look at Bucky. Instead, he started playing with a loose thread on the comforter.

“One more summer. Then I’ll—” Bucky sighed, his hand found its way into Steve’s hair.

“I know. I know. Degree, then job. Wherever that takes you. Just thought it’d be— We’d have more than like an hour and a handful of moments to enjoy… this.” Bucky gestured very specifically to his middle and did not think about what else he’d like Steve to want. “What if they won’t let me come back next summer? Don’t really think I qualify for the asthma camp across the lake.”

“Fury’s determined to help everyone lose weight and Stark’s stubborn as hell.”

“They’ve failed three years in a row. This time pretty hard. Y’know after breaking camp property because I gainedweight while being here.” Steve stayed quiet for a long moment. They’d had this conversation a few too many times for them not to know all the arguments by now.

“You don’t think the sneaking around’s kinda fun?” Bucky just wanted to sighed. He felt the urge to shake Steve and make him see that Bucky was in this for a whole lot more than sneaking around to fuck like high schoolers.

“Speaking of your time’s up.” Bucky felt Steve moving up, about to lie down on Bucky’s chest and say those familiar words, “just five more minutes, Buck” but when Bucky kept his eyes firmly trained straights ahead the words died in his throat. Steve sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, then pushed himself up with a deep breath.

“Do you want anything special for tomorrow?” Bucky shrugged. His eyes suddenly felt to heavy to keep them open.

“Surprise me.” A barren olive branch.

Steve disappeared into the bathroom and Bucky finally let the sigh, that had been trapped against his chest, out. He stayed on the bed with his eyes closed until Steve padded out of the bathroom, across the cabin and pushed the squeaky door handle down.

“One more summer.”

#stucky #weight gain #Fat!Bucky #Get Beached

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wittystiles · 5 years

Text

The Bluff || Mitch Rapp || Part 15

Author: wittystiles

Word Counter: 2k

Warnings: Cursing, idk.

Relationship: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Chapter Title: The Cleanup

Summary: Mitch cleans. Stan gives Irene an update.

A/N: ((THIS IS THE REAL ONE)) I didn’t write for this forever. And then I did. And I hated it. So I walked away, and then I came back and I finished it. This story is my nemesis but it’s for y’all, so I hope you all enjoy it. Please comment, reblog, like. Whatever. Feedback is crucial. I adore y’all.

(Y/N) reached across herself, feeling around for her phone on a nightstand she’d forgotten was no longer standing. The huff that left her was part defeat, part annoyance as she sat up, her head throbbing in it’s own loud protest. Her stomach gave a churn, threatening her with the proposal of vomit, and she fought her hardest to stifle that urge. She’d not consumed alcohol in so long, she’d nearly forgotten how unwell she felt after guzzling bottles of wine. Bitter red being the worst offender.

Opening her eyes she was met with dry soreness, and she shut them again, rubbing them tiredly with the sides of her fists. It took her a few long breaths before she could once more open her eyes, looking around at her devastated room. She plucked a tuft of comforter stuffing from her hair and watched for a moment as it fell to the bed and joined a mound that was already there. (Y/N) was struggling to force all of the things that she was feeling deep within herself, to a part of herself where things wouldn’t be found. Where she wouldn’t get to acknowledge the anger that was beginning to fester at her remembering the destruction of her apartment. It wasn’t like she was going to be able to stay there long, anyway, regardless of its devastation.

She admonished herself for not being wiser to the longevity of the ‘mission’ that Stan and Irene had forced upon her. She should have known she was never going to be free of her ‘Paris savior’. Throwing her legs off of the edge of the bed, (Y/N) willed herself to stand, head feeling a bit dizzy but manageable.

With her hand on the wall to brace herself, (Y/N) made it out of her bedroom and down the hallway to her living room. She took the scene before her in, mouth daring to drop open in amazement. “Mitch?” She muttered, seeing a figure laying on a pile of folded blankets, facing the wall. The entire living room was immaculately clean. No remnants of broken glass, wood, or couch innards splattered the floor. There were large black trash-bags stacked up against the wall near the front door, and every piece of ruined furniture was no longer in the room.

Her hand came up to cover her mouth, her feet carrying her from the living room to her kitchen. Everything was clean in there, as well. Her drawers had been returned to their places, the cabinets shut and some even put back onto their hinges. She was stunned. “Mitch,” she called again, this time louder and clearer. She heard a groan from behind her. He must be waking up.

“Mitch, did you do this?” She wondered, returning to the living room to crouch beside his sleeping form. She rest her hand on his hip for stability and he nearly jumped out of his skin. His torso sprang up and his hands flew behind him to keep himself upright, his chest rising and falling rapidly. (Y/N) retreated from him so fast, her balance got thrown, and she fell backwards, landing with a loud thud on her ass.

Moving with concern for (Y/N), Mitch found himself at her side in a heartbeat. He rest his hand gently against her shoulder blade, looking over her face quickly. “Are you all right?” He asked, moving to sit back against his ankles, taking his hand away from her shoulder. She nodded, looking a little startled but no worse for wear. He ran a hand through his tangled hair, regretting it at once.

“I cleaned,” he stated matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders. He settled back against his heels, deciding on just pushing his hair back and away from his face. He absently wished that he had a hair tie. Maybe he could handle the mess of hair that was on his head. “I was gonna do the bedroom but you were just - sleeping so soundly? I dunno, I couldn’t disturb you in order to clean. I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) was at a loss for words as she stared at him, eyes wide. “Are-are you apologizing for the fact that you cleaned? That’s, that’s insane. You literally turned this entire apartment right side up, Mitch. I walked out of my room and was flabbergasted over the fact that this place didn’t look like nineteen bulls trampled through it. I can only say the sincerest thank you, Mitch. Really.” She paused, “why did you sleep on the floor?”

“There wasn’t much room in your bed. I don’t know if you noticed this, but, your mattress was decimated. Irreparably, I’m afraid. There was only enough room for you. And barely, at that. You were curled up so tight around yourself it was like you were going to solidify and be stuck in an immovable (Y/N) ball.”

She stared blankly at him, “you’re not very clever first thing in the morning. Are you?”

“I spent the last twelve hours cleaning up your demolished apartment by myself. I think that I deserve a little credit when it comes to witty remarks.”

(Y/N) nodded, a smile forming on her lips. “Can I make you breakfast? As a thank you?”

“Your fridge is empty.”

She sighed, “the markets a five minute walk from here. I can go out, get some things. Make you a really hearty breakfast. All of the fixins! You could maybe shower, while I’m gone? You smell.”

“I do not,” he grumbled, trying to slyly smell himself without her noticing. It didn’t work.

“You’re right, you don’t,” she laughed. “Though a shower probably could only help you at this point. I’m sure you’re sore…”

Standing from the floor, Mitch shook his head. “I’m fine, but I will shower. At my own apartment. Don’t go to the store. Period. I’ll go out, get something for you to eat while I’m gone. And I will figure out this whole fucking situation.”

(Y/N) watched him with confusion, “what do you mean you’ll figure out this whole fucking situation?”

Mitch stretched his arms over his head, cracking his shoulders in the process. “It means I’m not done saving your ass.” He gave her a wink, walking out of her apartment without another word.

Stan sauntered into Irene’s office in something far below the considerably appropriate marker for ‘business’ or even ‘business casual’. His tucked in white crew neck had the beginning of holes around the collar from years of being pulled off over head. His blue jeans were faded on the thighs and knees, from years of sun exposure and wrestling around in the mud. He was clutching a blue and white paper cup filled with now lukewarm coffee, and looked three-days overdue for a shave.

“Go away, Stan,” Irene called out without looking up from her file. “I’m busy and I don’t have time to entertain you.”

Stan settled himself into the chair across the desk from Irene, resting the ankle of his left leg over the knee of his right. “I’m not here to be entertained,” he announced, bringing his coffee up to his mouth to take a few long swallows. He tossed the cup into the trash beside her desk, the lid popping off upon impact, falling to the floor ungracefully. He wondered how flimsy those cups really were as he leaned forward to pick the lid up, tossing it into the trash. “I’m here to update you on the Mitch case.”

“Don’t call it a case. It’s nowhere near official, Stan.” Irene finally turned her attention away from her computer, looking at him with boredom in her expression. “I know everything that’s happened with them.” She commented, sighing softly. “Also, in case you were wondering. I do have a telephone. You’re welcome to use it to get in contact with me, and avoid this hassle of coming all of the way down here just to inconvenience me.”

Stan’s eye roll was involuntary. “There’s been a new development in the situation.” He crossed his arms over his chest, sighing softly. “(Y/N) called me this afternoon, said something about how Mitch cleaned up her apartment.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment, racking her brain to figure out why that mattered to her. “You dragged your sorry self down here, just to tell me that he /cleaned/?”

Stan glared, “if you’re going to give me attitude, Irene, I will just leave. You can have a fun time trying to get the information I was going to nicely give you out of Mitch. We both know how readily he tells you things.”

“I can call (Y/N).”

Stan chuckled, “you can’t. She’s scratched her most recent cell phone, and won’t have a new one for a while. You’re going to have to send someone to her to get her to talk to you, or have her dragged in here. And I really don’t think you want Mitch getting suspicious about her getting brought down to the CIA building. He’s always so flighty.” He shrugged, “then of course you can go to her. But, that’s an inconvenience that the director wouldn’t want to put upon herself now is it?”

Irene clenched her jaw, trying to keep herself steady and not show the clear annoyance to him. “You’ve made your point, Stanley. What is this groundbreaking information that you’ve got?”

“I never claimed it was groundbreaking.”

The two shared a moment of silence, Irene leaning back in her chair to get herself more comfortable. “Are you ever going to speak?”

“I was just waiting for you to apologize for being rude to me initially.”

“Well that’s gonna be a cold day in hell, Stan. You had might as well leave right now, if you’re really expecting me to apologize. Unlike you, I have work to do. I cannot sit here all day and play these juvenile games with you.”

“I’m not playing any games.”

“Okay, well. The door’s that way. I’m sure you’re capable of finding it.” She turned away from him, eyes training back to her computer screen, fingers poised over the keyboard to start writing.

“He cleaned her apartment, because the two were together the entire night.”

“I’m aware. Your plan of destroying her apartment worked smashingly. He rushed out of here and straight to her. Arrived to her apartment in record time, where he promptly removed the cameras we installed. The little bastard even found the two I didn’t show him in the video.”

Stan chuckled, “sounds about Mitch.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

“(Y/N) said he left for an hour earlier today. He brought her back food and then disappeared. She didn’t know where he went, and when she tried asking he shut her down with a ‘are you my babysitter’.”

“Fascinating,” she mused, continuing to keep her eyes on her computer. “Is this everything?”

“No,” he sighed. “According to her he told her that he isn’t, and this is a direct quote, ‘done saving her ass’.”

She raised her eyebrow a little, “what does that mean?”

“It means that he’s committing himself to her, or so it seems. Not in the romantic way, I’m guessing. But in the way that the two of them are linked longer than she anticipated she would be. Which is good for the two of us,” he sighed.

“Yes. I am aware. It’s good that the two of them aren’t breaking ties because it would have made every second of this little thing mute.” Irene shook her head. “Is there something you’re not getting at?”

Stan shook his head, pursing his lips out a little. He was having fun with the little game that they were playing. Irene, of course, wasn’t. However he always enjoyed getting underneath her skin. He especially enjoyed when she wasn’t showing her frustrations and annoyance for him. Her not looking at him was, to him, like the equivalent of a dog not looking at you when you yell at them for pissing on the carpet. It wasn’t that she was upset because she’d done something wrong, no. It was that she was upset that her life was saddled to Stan’s.

“Jesus Christ, just spit it out!” She nearly shouted, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Stan smirked, taking a moment before answering, “she’s moving in with him.”

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