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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year ago

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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✶ 𝒓��𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･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.

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

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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fuckyeahgoodomens · 9 months ago

Text

Neil Gaiman, co-author of Good Omens:

My first encounter with Terry Pratchett was The Colour of Magic, as read on BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour. I was a young journalist and I reached out to his publisher for an interview, and thus became the first journalist to interview Terry Pratchett, in Bertorelli's Italian restaurant, in Gower Street. (We remembered it as a Chinese Restaurant in Goodge Street, demonstrating either the fallibility of memory or our fondness for Chinese food.) We became friends.

I was lucky enough to read Terry's books as he wrote them, to become one of his beta readers, and then to collaborate with him. Terry had a brilliant eye for the places where reality and narrative tradition intersect: he had a science fiction writer's mind, let loose on a fantasy world, and he loved to explain and show how things came to be. The last time we saw each other he told me I had to read a book about feeding Nelson's navy – and I still wonder, had he lived, about the Discworld novel he would have written, about ships, and naval battles and all, and the lessons he would have taught us. Because at his best, Terry was a teacher. The kind who makes you laugh while simultaneously realising that everything you have taken for granted so far is utterly wrong. I miss him.

#good omens #terry pratchett #terry pratchett day #happy birthday terry #gnu terry pratchett #speak his name #terry and neil #btb #fun fact #interview #neil interview #neil about terry

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gghostwriter · 4 months ago

Note

i saw you opened your fluff requests so how about this: reid recieves an invitation to a high-school reunion back in Vegas but he doesn't want to go because of his bad childhood. but his best friend (who is completely in love with him) convinces him to go, and offers to be his fake girlfriend to hype him up and make him feel more comfortable. he agrees and ends up confessing his love on the same football field he was bullied on

please feel no pressure to write this, it's just an idea i thought was cute

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader Trope: Friends to lovers; Fluff with a mix of pining wc: 2.1k A/N: Reader is not part of the BAU, but she just still work for the FBI. By far, this is my longest request written (it's a chapter length) and I don't know how it became so long but I hope you enjoy it still! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗 Main masterlist

Rewriting History. // Spencer Reid

It was the heavy scent of books and wood that welcomed you home. Street lights reflecting off the emerald green walls, bathing the apartment space a warm golden hue. There was peace and stillness, your roommate of two years, Spencer Reid, nowhere to be seen—a usual occurrence that came with his and your job too, being FBI agents under the BAU and CACU, respectively.

You sluggishly made your way to your bedroom, adjacent Spencer’s closed door. Flipping open the switch, your worn body collapsed on the plush vanity chair as thoughts about the darkness of your job slip away and get replaced with melancholy on your connection with the boy genius. It was a relationship nurtured by grueling times in the academy—a connection forged out of convenience at first before becoming this convoluted and intimate bond all because you ended up falling for him.

It wasn’t a conscious choice and Spencer didn’t make it any easier. He was a closed off castle complete with a moat and a secret password—painfully shy and awkward in nature. If it wasn’t for required partnership in physical classes, you doubted you’d get as close as you were now.

A beep brought you out of your musings.

And as if he knew you were thinking of him, it was a text message from Spencer informing you of his return home in a few minutes.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself out of the chair and changed into a set of clothes—a faded Caltech tee, that you never returned, and a pair of black leggings

Padding across to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator and silently thanked your past self for prepping dinner for two in advance. With how irregular both your schedules were and Spencer’s apparent lack of skill in cooking, it fell upon your shoulders to make sure he isn’t living off of cold pizzas and Chinese takeouts.

As the second plate of food was heating up in the microwave, the chiming of keys softly echoed from outside the mahogany door.

“Hey Spencer,” you called out from the kitchen counter.

A series of rustles and a soft hey answered back.

You tilted your head to the side in contemplation, something was wrong and as he turned the corner, shoulders curving in on itself and brows furrowed, something must definitely be wrong.

“Tough case?” You asked, bringing both plates to the rounded dinner table.

“Yeah—” Spencer shook his head. “Actually no, not really but I got an email from Las Vegas.”

Your spoonful of soup hung midair, immediately concerned with the email contents. “Is it your mom? Is she okay?’

Having visited Diana in numerous occasions with and without Spencer, you’ve learned to love that woman fiercely too. She was a breath of fresh air—blunt during her lucid days and smart during her academic lectures.

“It’s from my high school, an invitation for the reunion.”

Ah. “And you’re not sure if you want to go?”

He shrugged, chewing his slice of chicken before answering. “There’s really no one I want to reconnect with, you know. No happy memories really.”

“That’s true,” you nodded along.

During the first few nights moving in the apartment, Spencer had shared the lows he had to go through just to get to where he was now at such a young age—endlessly mocked for being a geek, no friend group or single confidant to watch his back, and the utter humiliation of being tied naked on a football post. You had an inkling that the genius had gone through bullying, it was a sad norm in all schools, especially in public, but hearing it first hand had brought home just how much of his closed off and shy personality was a product of his trials.

You tapped your fingers on the table. “I think you should go.”

“What?”

“Yeah, yeah. To show all those mean bullies where you are now,” your back straightening from the idea. “They’ll talk about you in passing anyway, whether you’re there or not so might as well be there to show them up and defend yourself plus—” you paused, taking a sip of water before barreling through. “—you’ve become quite handsome since then. Don’t you think?”

His hazel eyes widened in surprise, further adding to his appeal. Spencer was so innocent that he didn’t know the effect he had on women—first evidence was yourself and the second was Lila Archer. “Y-you think I’ve become handsome?”

With warmth spreading on your cheeks, you nodded. “You’ve always been handsome to me.”

Spencer started coughing, hand beating on his chest as the food threatened to go down the wrong tube.

Alarmed, you quickly stood up and started patting his back for assistance. How embarrassing was this—the first time you blatantly flirted with the man you formed intense attraction for ends up with him almost choking. Was this a sign maybe to not push your luck? You’ve done just about anything to nudge Spencer’s mind in acknowledging your feelings, from remembering all his little quirks (all were just so cute), actively listening to his tangents (all very informative and interesting), and even sometimes delivering a box of donuts to his team (all in the name of seeing his face brighten up) but none seemed to have worked. So, you opted to tell him in words and look what that did to him.

You gnawed on your lower lip. Maybe it was best to pull back, maybe it was best to throw in—

He cleared his throat before his hand reached yours situated on his shoulder. There was a slight tremor before it closed around your all of a sudden clammy palm. “I’ll go if you go with me.”

Filter off your brain. “As a fake girlfriend type of thing?”

You shut your eyes closed, promising to yourself to stop reading those unrealistic romance novels that Penelope lends you.

“If—if you want,” his voice shaky and soft as rustles could be heard in the background.

Opening your eyes, Spencer was now fully facing you. Eyes roaming your face and body—profiling you.

A small smile graced your lips. “Okay.”

———

The second thing your brain thought of was how oddly fitting that the reunion was held at the school gym, located beside the football field. The first thought being how Spencer looked devastatingly handsome in his suit and tie.

His attire wasn’t that different from his usual in the FBI but there was a hidden meaning behind his choices. The patterned brown blazer was a gift you had given to him for his first anniversary working at the FBI and his tie matched the color of your dress.

It made you feel warm even though a shiver went down your spine as a sudden gust of wind passed by.

Spencer slid closer towards you. “Do you want my coat?”

“I’m alright, thanks for asking Spence,” you looked up, smiling in reassurance. The fairy lights hung in rows emphasized how structured his face was. A high nose bridge, similar to his mother’s, and high cheekbones that made your fingers twitch in want to caress. He was stunning to look at—a view you feared you’d never get enough of.

“Spencer Reid!” A booming male voice shouted from across the gymnasium causing a few heads to swivel. Based on the other attendees reactions—giving them ample space as they passed and the stares tracking their every move, you knew who he was right away. A former bully.

“How are you?” he reached out his hand for a handshake. One that Spencer stared at before bringing his hand up to a wave, lips in a tight lipped smile.

“Hey Paul, nice to see you.”

“Is it?” He chuckled before turning his eyes on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

You stated out your name, tone very similar when you’re on the field—cold and professional.

“Look at you, Spencer, having such a pretty girlfriend. Heard you work for the FBI now, is that how you two met?”

A saccharine smile spread across your lips. Your boy genius had been stiff ever since Paul called out his name. Having have heard how Spencer once reacted to a case where the unsub was a high school victim, you knew where his mind was at the moment. Grappling with the hurt from the past and trying his best not to lash out from the scars it had left behind. “Yeah, we met at the Academy and just clicked. He was such a gentleman that I couldn’t say no when he asked me out for a date.”

“That’s good to hear. Listen, man, is it alright if I talk to you for a second? Alone?”

You brushed the back of your hand with his, bringing his attention to you. There was a slight furrow in between his brows and his stature was taut, like a stretched out bow that needs to release it’s arrow. This was one of the few times, you could tell, that Spencer was unsure what to do. There was no malice behind Paul’s request and although you weren’t a profiler yourself, the slight hunch on the former bully’s shoulder silently communicated his remorse.

Spencer’s eyes trained on yours and as if he found the answer within the depths of your gaze, he slightly smiled, squeezing your hand in his before turning back and nodding to the interloper.

“I’ll go get a refill,” you lifted your empty cup to excuse yourself.

In truth, you stood idly near the punch bowl and kept your eyes glued on the male duo. Paul was looking down, shuffling his feet, before taking a deep breath and looking straight at Spencer. He uttered a few words you couldn’t make of and in turn, Spencer’s body relaxed and he nods once. With an offer for a handshake, one that Spencer shook, Paul walked away as you made your way back to your partner’s side.

“Good talk?” you asked.

“He apologized,” Spencer muttered, eyes studying you before grasping your hand back to his. “No refill?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like it anymore. Say Spence—” he titled his head as an answer. “Want to get out of here?”

He chuckled, eyes twinkling with relief. “Thought you’d never ask.”

———

The cicadas were singing their tune as you and Spencer stepped out to the football field. The grass lush in color and the faint smell of wet earth wafted around. Grateful that you opted to wear sensible flats rather than the high heels Penelope was bartering you to wear, you held Spencer’s hand tight as he started recollecting the worst bullying that happened in the same place many years ago.

“That—” he pointed at the goalpost on the far right. “—was where I was left tied up. I remember feeling worried that I would catch hypothermia as the rain kept coming and going that day and I remember feeling sad when I got home and my mother didn’t notice me missing.”

Your voice caught in your throat.

He continued on. “They say people forget events as they grow older and I wished I had the luxury of that.”

“Because of your eidetic memory,” you sighed. It was a blessing and a curse to have.

“But I was thinking, maybe I could rewrite it instead?”

There was a thick layer of hope behind his words causing you to turn, fully facing him this time.

“I—I’ve been keeping a secret from you for 24 months and 182 days and I don’t know if this would change our relationship or ruin it but you’re my person, my best friend—” he took a deep breath. “—and I’m in love with you.”

People say there are moments in your life that would upend everything as you know it and tilt everything to an axis, you never understood what they meant by that, up until this moment. The twinkling night stars suddenly appeared brighter, the temperature warmer, and the force that tethered you to Earth was no longer gravity, it was now Spencer Reid.

You smiled, eyesight blurring from tears. His trembling fingers reached out to wipe the droplets making its path down your cheeks.

“I’m in love with you too, Spencer Reid, since the beginning.”

And as if the world needed more proof, he smiled—his bright, full teeth smile and you felt your heart halt before starting back up again.

It was proof that he owned the beating organ in your chest and all the emotion that came with it.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid request #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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dollishmehrayan · 1 month ago

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DAMIAN WAYNE HCS WITH A MIXED RACE S/O ── .✦

a/n: this was a request by a wonderful anon tysm (here) and omg tysm I love requests like these and I want to make different hcs series like these for them and how cool it would be like “Japanese s/o x batboys” or smth yk?

(Tags: damian wayne x east asian and european mixed!Reader)

CULTURAL INTEREST ── .✦

Damian would be deeply curious about your cultural background, eager to learn about traditions, history, and languages. Expect him to ask thoughtful questions and immerse himself in understanding your mixed heritage.

He insists on trying to learn the language(s) spoken in your family and, of course, perfects pronunciation with his usual perfectionist streak.

“You said it wrong, Damian.”

“No, I didn’t. Your dialect is just different.”

He reads up on your culture’s history with the same intensity he uses to study combat techniques. He doesn’t just skim—he knows everything.

“Did you know that in (any historical period)…”, “Yes, Damian, I know.”

FOOD ADVENTURES ── .✦

He becomes obsessed with authentic cuisine. He’ll try to make it himself, often with varying results:

“This isn’t supposed to taste like charcoal…”

“Maybe because you slightly burnt it?”

He’ll accompany you to markets, sampling street food with serious fascination, though he keeps a stoic expression even if something surprises him.

“It’s good.”

“You’re sweating.”

“…It’s just warm.”

If your family cooks traditional meals, Damian will be politely intense about helping in the kitchen, wanting to learn everything. Expect him to get bossed around by your relatives, which humbles him in the best way.

PROTECTIVE IN A SUBTLE WAY ── .✦

He’s always been protective, but with you, it’s different. He knows how important family and culture are, so he’s especially careful about making sure no one disrespects you or your heritage.

“If anyone makes an ignorant comment, tell me.” He says it with calm menace, but you know he means it.

He admires the balance you strike between cultures and often finds it inspiring. He quietly considers it a strength and respects how you carry yourself in both worlds.

“You make it seem effortless.” He’ll say this when he thinks you aren’t listening.

TRADITIONAL DRESS LOVER ── .✦

Damian adores seeing you in traditional attire from both cultures. He’s quietly mesmerized but would never be too obvious about it, despite he himself being arab Chinese he definitely feels connected to you being a mixed race.

“You look beautiful.” He’ll say it under his breath, but you can see his ears turning red.

If there are festivals or cultural events, he’ll dress the part, too, wearing traditional clothes with pride, looking stoic but secretly enjoying the attention he gets standing next to you.

RESPECT FOR ELDERS ── .✦

He knows the importance of respecting elders, and while he can be standoffish, he’s surprisingly polite to your family. He’ll even tolerate the cheek-pinching and blunt questions.

“Are you feeding him enough?” one aunt asks.

“I am fully capable of feeding myself, thank you.” (He then looks to you for help.)

Your relatives might joke about how serious he is, but they appreciate how much he cares for you. He’ll earn their approval through quiet acts of service—like helping clean up or taking care of you when you’re tired.

GIFTS WITH CULTURAL MEANINGS ── .✦

Damian gives gifts that have cultural significance. He’ll research deeply before buying anything, ensuring it’s meaningful and respectful.

“I read that this symbolizes prosperity. I thought it fitting.” He says it like it’s no big deal, but you know he spent hours researching.

He memorizes proverbs or sayings from your culture and sometimes quotes them out of nowhere. It’s both impressive and endearing.

(In your language) “As the proverb goes, ‘Patience is a bitter plant, but it bears sweet fruit.’”

“Did you just… quote that to me in perfect [language]?”

“I did.”

TEA AND LATE NIGHT TALKS ── .✦

He becomes a tea connoisseur if your family drinks tea regularly, perfecting the brewing method until it rivals even your grandmother’s.

He’ll sit with you during late-night talks, pouring tea and sharing quiet moments, appreciating the calmness you bring to his otherwise intense life.

“You make everything seem quieter,” he admits one night, watching steam rise from the cup.

SUBTLE ACTS OF LOVE ── .✦

Damian isn’t overly affectionate in public, but in private, he’ll hold your hand and rest his head on your shoulder when he’s tired.

“Just for a moment,” he’ll mumble, eyes half-closed.

He appreciates the balance you bring into his life and constantly falls deeper in love with the way you combine grace, strength, and compassion.

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mossyivy · 1 month ago

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Selfish || Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Dog Hybrid!Reader

Inspiration: Puppy Pound - Jazmin Bean

Content Warning: Baby's First Hybrid fic, Starts as Post RE4R Leon, Mentions of Suicide (no actual death), Spoiled Brat Reader, Pet Names (hehe but no really - Sweet Girl, Grumpy Bitch, Princess), Unrequited Love (Not really though).

Authors Note: Decided to post what I had so far of this. Test the waters for a part two if anyone is genuinely interested.

Leon was always lonely after that night in '98. The soul-crushing pressure of keeping the public safe from horrific monstrosities created by cults or money-hungry corporations alike. The bitter feeling of everyone around him moving on with their lives, while he constantly feels stuck.

No one to come home to at night. No one to even call his own. Devoid of the most basic of relationships. Hardly even able to call coworkers friends, maybe acquaintances at best if they're even that. No one to share laughs, or meals, or time with was starting to get to him. The heavy weight of loneliness stuck to him like a mouse in a glue trap. Just abnormally cruel at this point.

Until you came into his life a few years ago.

Just a sweet little dog hybrid sitting under a shop awning, trying to keep dry during a thunderstorm. Being dealt the shittier hand in life of not being brought in by a complete stranger like your siblings. Left to search through trash cans and dumpsters just to scrape by another day. Unsure of how you'd get by the next or even survive the night with how rough the city could be.

Your stomach aches with the familiar hunger of another day with no luck, even just barely making it under the awning. Starting to dry off with your damp hair. The fur on your ears and tail no longer puffed, just a drenched flat matted mess.

That's when he saw you, standing across the street with an umbrella overhead. A hot bag of Chinese takeout ready to be eaten, slowly going cold as he watches the sweetest girl he's ever seen look borderline pathetic. The way your tail is curled around your ankles as you tuck your knees closer when a clap of thunder makes the ground shake, it's so loud. The whimpering sounds you made were so loud he could hear them clear as day across the street.

He can't help himself. Leon's always been helpful. Now, only worse with his job, helping others is just his second nature. That's why he didn't even think twice about jaywalking the second he noticed you shiver once. The sound of wet footsteps caught your attention.

"Are you okay, girl?" Looking up, you're met with the sight of an angel looking down on you. Dull blue eyes sitting in dark exhausted bags stare at you as you take him all in. The light of the closed storefront made his blond hair shiny, along with his luscious lips and large prominent nose.

You're absolutely baffled that someone is even talking to you. Use to people waving you away from their sight or even chasing you off their property. The sound of a foreign language hits your ears, head tilting as you snap back to reality. Ears twitching in response to whatever he asked. Deep chuckles roll from his chest as he smiles at your clear confusion.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna help. You got an owner? I don't see a collar on you sweet girl."

Sweet girl. Your brain almost melts at the name alone. Slowly shaking your head, he holds his hand out for you, letting you sniff him and familiarize himself with you. Damp tail starts to wag as he cups your chin, turning your face.

"You wanna come home with me?"

And that was the question that sealed their fates for the next few years. That night, he took you home, fed you, bathed you and gave you the love and attention you'd needed for years. Giving him back companionship he desperately wanted without even realizing it.

You're far from a purebred but treated like one instead of the mutt you actually are. Pampered to the nines by the finest of things. Great clothes, food, products, doctors, anything for Leon's precious little princess. Toys o' plenty, even the most expensive dog bed lays ignored by you. Favoring sleeping with your owner nightly. Clinging to his side the second he got home for the past 3 years now.

Leon's 30th birthday, coming and going by with him just celebrating the day off with you. Cuddled up on the couch, clinging to his side as you napped on his chest. He sighs, watching the commercial for some random romantic comedy coming to theaters soon. Glancing down at the sleeping figure next to him, one of the few reasons on this planet he hasn't blown his own brains out yet.

Your soft features illuminated by the glow of his flat screen. Every soft little note he's made thousands of times before scribbled across your soft skin he's made soft over the time you've spent together. Taking in the details of the small things. The way your ears twitch when you sleep, the small little scar on the side of your nose you told him the story about getting at least thirty times by now, the tiny sharp canines showing through plush open lips.

Eyes linger, brain yelling at him to stop. He can't have his cake and eat it too. That's not his life anymore. That thought alone makes his heart hurt. A pretty girl he knows who'd be perfect for him, but fate decided to make you his glorified pet instead of a woman he could love without judgment.

Getting that familiar loneliness again, he runs his thumb over your cheek, making your face scrunch in your sleep. Not bothering to pull away because he knows you won't budge. That serene mumble you always do as you tuck your head under his chin to get comfortable again. His hand moves from your shoulder, hovering over your lower back like some magnetic force field is keeping him away. You settle down, his hand goes back between your shoulders.

He can't. He'd ruin a precious thing like you. Building you back up to how you deserve to be treated. He's worked so hard to keep you happy. Treat you like a spoiled little princess, even if you act like a grumpy bitch when he's away for long.

He just can't cross that line. Not with you.

Sighing, he flips through the channels, picking an older black and white movie to watch. Ads are rolling on this channel too. He's about to pick up the remote again when a new commercial pops up for a match-making service in the area. The number scrolling along the line at the bottom of the screen in bright pink with a little heart accentuating the end. All he can think about is Claire nagging him to try dating websites, since online dating is apparently the "hot new thing".

He's too fucking old for that... At least he thinks so. But this... This could work. Common interests tend to bring people together, at least that's what he tells himself, pulling his phone out of his pocket and looking up the website.

Jessica? No. Josie? No... Joyce? No! God, he's terrible with names sometimes... His brain can barely let him remember his dates name, he can't do this too.

Leon fumbles with his tie in the mirror, pulling it from the collar and back onto the pile of clothes he can't bother to hang up clustered at the bottom of his closet. The top buttons on his shirt come undone as he glances at you in the mirror. Lying so pretty on his bed, tail curled around your legs as you watch him get dressed for his date. Turning back to you, you sit up quickly. Tail thumping against the sheets as you stare in awe. As if you hadn't seen him in his button ups for work dozens of times by now.

"Well, what do you think, princess?" Your head tilts, ears flopping to the side with your signature cute smile.

"Handsome." The word flows through your lips so easily, his heart rate picking up as he feels the heat in his neck forming. It almost makes him blush at how blunt you can be sometimes. Clearing his throat is the signal for goodbye most days. Crawling over, your delicate hands go to his shoulders, rubbing the top of your head under his chin. Pushing your scent all over him. Even if it can barely be traced over his cologne, you know it's there. It's a mark of ownership over him, at least to you, even if humans don't exactly follow the same rules hybrids do. Other bitches will keep their distance.

"Alright, you know the drill. Don't answer the door and no wild parties. Be a good girl for me while I'm gone, okay?" Leon leans in, giving you a kiss between the ears and a light squeeze before he's gone. Out the door and to dinner with whoever he's going with.

Sauntering to the door, you sit and wait, staring at the thick wood for so long that your eyes start to burn. That's when your pathetic little whimpering starts. Just to walk off to the living room and sulk on the couch like you do every time he leaves without you in tow. Laying your head where he usually sits, his musky scent fills your canine senses and calms you slowly.

It's okay, he'll be back. He always comes back.

An hour goes by, the familiar click of the lock sounds. Ears perking up as you rush to the front door, an excited bark ripping through the air as your tail thumps against the floor. The door opens, Claire stepping through. Which isn't abnormal, sometimes when Leon and Claire go to dinner they end up back there to keep chatting for a while.

"Hi girl!" Claire gets smothered in a tight hug, muzzle buried in her shoulder as she squeezes you. Looking behind her, you see the empty hallway of the apartment building. The lack of Leon behind her, reprimanding you for crowding her when they got back. Your tail halts, stomach knotting up.

Where is he? If he's not home, then where is he? He was just going to dinner with someone. That someone wasn't Claire?!

The brunette immediately notices your distressed tension. Rubbing your back to calm you as she kicks the door closed.

"It's okay girl, he should be home soon. Leon just asked me to drop by and make sure you ate something. C'mon, let's get you fed, yeah?"

She gives you a little squeeze, stepping by to walk into the kitchen. Your eyes still transfixed on the door, plopping to the floor to start your routine of waiting again. Claire looks down at you, worry washing over her as she frowns slightly.

"It's okay girl, he'll be home from his date soon." Her footsteps led away, the sounds of buttons being pushed and the hum of the microwave heating up your dinner was enough to pull you from your rapid thoughts.

Date? What's a date? If he's not with Claire, who is he with? Is it other people you know? What if he's with a stranger? Could that stranger hurt him? Oh no, what if he's hurt somewhere!?

Whining starts again, louder than before, alerting Claire as she walks back into the doorway of the kitchen. Crouching next to you, stroking between your shoulders gently.

"Hey, hey it's okay..."

"Where is he?" Your mumbles come out as more pathetic than you intended. Eyeing Claire finally. Her soft smile does very little to comfort you.

"He's on a date, sweet girl. Y'know, like, a romantic outing. Having a fun time! He might even like her so much he could make her your new mama." The beep from the kitchen catches Claire's attention as she stands up and walks away.

Mama...? He's trying to find you a new mama? You don't need a mama, you want your owner. Only your owner. Taking another woman out on a romantic outing when he could have just taken you somewhere instead?

What are you, chop liver? No longer his little princess? His sweet girl? The light of his life?

He'd always seemed so obsessed with you, just like you were him. Loving him with everything you had and getting back what you thought was your equal share of his love in return.

But now you might have to share him...?

Your eyebrows furrow, eyes going back to the door before Claire calls you to the kitchen, just to get ignored as you angrily pout at nothing. Footsteps round the corner as she crouches next to you again.

"C'mon girl... You can't sit here all -"

"No..." You disobey, tone laced with a growl as Claire looks a little thrown off, not scared but surprised by the sudden attitude change. Her lips draw to a line, her hand coming to your shoulder as she squeezes it gently.

"There's food on the counter. Nice and hot just for you... Please eat it, he'll be home soon. You don't have to sit here all night." Standing up, she gives you a scratch between the ears, heading for the door. The lock clicks into place as you're left in the silence of the apartment again. Nothing but the sound of the outside world to accompany you.

After a few minutes of sulking, you walk to the kitchen to at least look at the food you were offered. Stew sitting piping hot at the kitchen counter with a spoon next to the bowl.

You aren't even hungry, your stomach still in knots as you glare at the food. You know you should at least try eating, unless you actually want to upset Leon.

A little defiant voice in the back of your head pushes through your thoughts to get a pint across.

Make him know you're mad at him...

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy

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