For The Times I Was Afraid To Go Out.

The authorities of the Islamic Republic of Iran have started to arrest prominent public figures. Not just journalists and activists, but also actresses, singers, athletes who supported the protests via their social media are now in danger of arrest.

The regime is desperate.

They are aware that their already declining economy is hit and made even worse due to the long daily internet shutdowns. Imagine you're unable to write emails at work or access your webshop. The Iranian government can't keep shutting down the web forever.

But the moment they reboot internet access the people in Iran will connect for more action and people outside of Iran will see what's happening.

Meanwhile, protests, strikes and civil disobedience are still taking place all over the Iran.

Dammit I was hoping I was wrong and Bunny would actually have someone that wouldn’t betray her

The Ties That Bind 1

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader x Mike Weiss (the Mike stuff will be brief) Word Count: 13,510 Summary: Your whole life, all you wanted was to be part of the Devil’s Advocates inner circle, but you were relegated to a tagalong, often forgotten unless someone needed something from you. You were invisible, to everyone, well, everyone except him. Warnings: Biker AU. Explicit language. Explicit sexual content. Soft!dark Ari if you squint. Mike is a bad friend (all the DAs kind of are). Reader is on the periphery of the DAs and kind of just…forgotten 🥺 Reader is sweet, shy, & socially awkward; she’s also sensitive & struggles w/anxiety. Mentions of drug use, addiction, almost dying from an overdose, & Narcotics Anonymous. Caring for a parent with Alzheimer’s. Verbal abuse. Attempted assault. Mentions of a size difference. Panic attack. Gaslighting, manipulation, & attempted blackmail. Angst. 

A/N: Oh hoe hoe, my dear friends. This is the Devil's Advocates storyline I've personally been waiting for. It's been living rent free in my mind for ages, and I am just so stoked to share it with you. I couldn’t resist submitting this first part for my Birthday Bonenanza 😊 I think this story will likely be a few parts at least, and SHOCKER: there’s only a hint of smut in this first part, so we are starting hard with plot and setup, for once LOL. I hope you enjoy this, and I can't wait to hear what you think. Enjoy! ❤️

Prompts: Biker AU + Shy!Reader + Surprise plot twist!

Your attention was pulled from the spreadsheets filling your computer screen when you heard the rumble of a truck engine outside, then the crunch of gravel beneath tires as a vehicle parked in the lot beside your small office building.

Perking up in your seat, you smoothed down the front of your new blouse. Well, new to you, since it was from the thrift shop, but you still liked it and took a second to make sure it was neatly tucked into your skirt as you straightened your spine and smiled as the front door opened and your boss, Mike Weiss, appeared.

Mike was so much more than your boss though. 

He was your life-long friend. He was a Devil's Advocate. And he was your crush.

It was silly, you knew that, to still carry a torch for him after all of these years, but you just couldn't help it. 

His father and yours had been close, an older generation of the DAs biker gang, so Mike had been a fixture in your life for as long as you could remember.

You may have grown apart over the years, but staying local to Newton helped, as did applying for the job as his administrative assistant at his small accounting firm.

Over the years, your role had grown to being an admin for all of the Advocates' legal business, not just the accounting firm but also Frank's Auto Repair and Everett Construction. You even helped with the backend for Jo's Pub, since both Andy and Curtis were partners with Jo on that establishment, too.

You couldn't ride a motorcycle, and you weren't an "old lady" to one of the crew (yet!), but you helped and were involved in your own small way. 

Even if it was overlooked more often than not.

Shaking that ungrateful thought from your mind, you smiled bigger as you greeted Mike, watching as he juggled his briefcase, a to-go cup of coffee, and his cell phone that was buzzing with an incoming message. 

"Morning, pip," he shot you a small smile.

You tried not to grimace at the nickname. Pip, short for pipsqueak, which Mike and some of the others used to call you when you were children because you were younger and smaller than all of them.

It wasn't the most flattering nickname, but it was yours, and from them, so you shrugged it off, quickly rising from your seat to take Mike's briefcase and coffee from his hands.

"Thanks," his smile grew bigger in gratitude as he followed you into his office. 

Rounding his desk, you set down his things and lingered to see if he needed anything. 

Mike took a moment to type out a quick reply on his phone before setting it aside, unbuttoning his suit blazer, and dropping into his seat with a sigh.

"So, what's on the agenda for today?" he asked, reaching for his coffee and taking a drink.

"I'm almost done with the data exports for the monthly P&Ls," you told him. "No meetings though, so it should be fairly quiet."

"My favorite kind of day," Mike grinned. "Maybe we'll both be able to clock out early, but shhh, don't tell the boss."

You giggled at his joke, your eyes soft as you watched him for a moment. 

He was looking much better these days, his pallor healthier, the bags beneath his eyes not so dark. Even at his worst, addiction wise, Mike was always a very good looking guy. 

You resisted the urge to sigh a little, stuffing down the anxiety that bubbled up in your gut as you looked him over, trying to spot even a hint that he was using again despite his promise that he was attending his daily Narcotics Anonymous meetings and clean for the first time in years.

You had been the one who found him when he overdosed six months ago, right here in this very office, and you didn't want to miss the signs again.

That awful moment would forever be ingrained in your brain, when you walked in and found Mike passed out on the floor, pale as a ghost and barely breathing as he laid in a pool of his own vomit.

You remember thinking he was dead and being more scared and devastated than you had ever been in your life.

"Anything else?" Mike's voice pulled you back to the present moment.

You wrung your hands, trying to shake out the sudden bout of anxious energy as you mustered a smile and shook your head. "No, but let me know if you need anything." You hesitated before asking. "You're…good?"

There was a flash of something in Mike's eyes at your trembling tone, something that let you know that he got your meaning, knew what you were really asking, and his smile faltered for a beat, even as his features softened. 

"I'm all good. Really."

"Okay, good," you nodded, swallowing nervously and blinking back the sudden wave of tears burning at the back of your eyes.

You weren't sure why you were feeling so emotional all of the sudden. Maybe because you loved Mike and just truly wanted him to be okay, to be happy and healthy, to thrive.

That's what you wanted for everyone, but especially Mike.

"I mean, I'm always good when I have you by my side, pip. We both know I couldn't function, let alone run this business, without you," Mike teased.

You shot him a shy smile, murmuring a quiet, "I don't know about that," before turning on your heel. You got as far as Mike's open doorway before his voice made you pause.

"How's your dad doing?" he asked. 

You slowly turned back to him, touched by his question. Then you tried not to be disappointed when you realized he was only half-paying attention to your answer as he scooped up his buzzing phone to reply to another text message.

But you knew Mike was a very busy man, and yet he still took a moment to ask about your father.

To ask a very loaded question.

Your dad's Alzheimer’s had progressively gotten worse, especially over the past year. You barely even recognized him anymore. His mood swings and the hurtful things he said to you…

It was a lot, and so very difficult. But you knew it wasn't really him saying those things. He was barely him most of the time anymore, and it was heart-breaking to watch–especially as a daddy's girl–the way someone you loved so much was diminishing more and more each day, right before your eyes.

"Uh," you hesitated, deflating when you realized Mike was all but ignoring you at this point anyway. "He's okay, thanks for asking."

"Huh?" Mike blinked up at you, then caught up to the conversation, smiling, "Yeah, of course! You know I'm here if you need anything, pip, anything at all."

You nodded before quickly darting from his office, your face warming as you imagined actually taking Mike up on his offer. 

Expressing your need for him. 

And maybe not the kind he was expecting, not at all. 

Not from you.

Eyes going distant for a moment as you imagined him sweeping you up against him in his office, gently cupping your face with his big hands, staring into your eyes as he slowly inched closer, until his lips were hovering right over yours, until–

You startled as your office phone rang, feeling more warmth rush through you at your ridiculous fantasy. 

Shaking your head at yourself, you pressed your cool hands to your hot cheeks before you answered the phone with much more pep in your voice than you actually felt.

"Oh, now I can run some errands before the post work rush," Amelia, your father's home caretaker, smiled at you, clapping in excitement as she rushed to gather her things. 

Mike had made good on his promise to let you leave early after a pretty quiet work day, so you had stopped at the grocery store to grab a few things so you could make your father's favorite dinner before returning home.

You smiled as Amelia stopped before you, reaching out with her soft, weathered hand to cup your cheek. She was much older than you, almost as old as your father, but you would never know it because she had such youthful energy. 

Over the past few years, she had become so much more than your father's caretaker, she had become a dear friend, and you appreciated her so much. You loved her like family.

"You sweet, beautiful girl," she cooed, tugging you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Her voice lowered as she glanced across the living room to where your father was sitting in his recliner, watching TV. "He had a pretty good day today, was more lucid than he's been in ages."

You brightened instantly, your smile growing hopeful as you glanced between Amelia and your dad. "Really?"

"Mmmhmm," she gave you a soft smile, patting your cheek before stepping away. "I'll see you tomorrow, love."

"Thanks, Amelia, have a nice evening." 

You walked her to the door, giving her a final wave and smile before closing it behind you and turning toward your dad.

You moved closer, hovering beside his chair for a moment. Your father looked so frail these days. Sometimes it was hard to believe he used to be a big, strong biker, a Devil's Advocate.

Your hero.

Blinking back the moisture in your eyes, you smiled, "I'm gonna make your favorite for dinner, baked ziti, how's that sound?"

Your father blinked, slowly pulling his foggy gaze from the TV, his eyes lighting with warm recognition as he looked up at you. "Sounds good, honey. You take such good care of me."

He reached for you and you offered your hand, feeling a lump swell in your throat as he gently patted your hand between his with a sigh. 

"You're such a good girl."

And then his eyes returned to the TV and glazed over once more.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you made your way into the kitchen and got started on dinner. 

A few hours later, you were seated at the small dining table in the corner of the kitchen, picking at your dinner when your father suddenly slammed his glass down hard on the table.

"This isn't right!" he growled. 

Startled, you glanced up from your plate and gaped at him, confused. "W-what–?"

"Can't even follow a simple recipe, huh? This isn't how your mother made it," your father sneered down at his plate before flipping it off the table and onto the floor. 

"Daddy!" you gasped, leaning over in your chair to frown at the mess of pasta, cheese, and broken bits of ceramic now littering the kitchen tile. 

"You can't do anything right!" your father gritted, heaving himself to his feet. 

He planted his big hands on the table and leaned across it, until you were cowering in your seat and watching him with big, tear-filled eyes.

"I told you to carve your way into the inner fold, keep up my legacy with the club, but you're so damn worthless. You're invisible, to all of them."

It took you a moment to even follow his chaotic train of thought, from dinner to the Devil's Advocates. You processed his hurtful words, some of which were ones you had often thought to yourself, especially in those moments of suffocating loneliness when you had no one to talk to, no one to lean on as you struggled to buckle under the weight that had been thrust upon you.

"I-I'm not," you trembled at last. "They're my friends."

Your father's snort was derisive. "You don't have any friends, and we both know it. Pathetic."

You flinched at the insult–and the truth of it–watching as your father spared you one final sneer before shuffling from the kitchen. You heard the creak of his recliner as he took his preferred seat, and a moment later, the TV was blaring with some evening sports show. 

Sniffling to yourself at the sudden, awful turn the night had taken, you slowly rose from your chair. You scraped your dinner into the trash bin before cleaning up the mess your father made. 

Your hands trembled as you covered the baked ziti tray with some foil and stowed it in the fridge. You moved to the sink and did the dishes on autopilot for a few moments before you suddenly glanced up to the window over the sink.

You stared at your sad, teary reflection in the glass.

All alone.

Trapped in your childhood home with a warped, broken shadow of your father. 

You wondered suddenly what Mike and the others were doing.

They were probably at Jo's, where they spent most nights together. Having dinner and drinks. Playing pool. Together. All of them. Like a family.

Without you.

Feeling your lower lip tremble, you sniffed back more tears, trying your best to focus on the dirty dishes that needed cleaning instead of feeling sorry for yourself. 

No matter how much it was warranted.

You were just starting to wrap up your work day when the front door opened and Curtis filled the doorway of the office.

"Hey," he greeted you with a small smile, which grew bigger when his fiancée, Peaches, poked her head around his bicep and waved at you. 

"Oh my god, I haven't seen you in a million years!" she grinned, stepping around Curtis to move toward you and sweep you up in a hug. "How are you?"

Overwhelmed by the sudden attention–and their unexpected arrival–you just smiled stupidly for a moment before you processed her question and gave a flustered response. 

"Oh, I'm, I'm okay, thanks. Congrats on the engagement," your smile was more genuine now as Peaches flashed you her ring before giving a dreamy sigh. 

"He did good, didn't he?"

"He did," you laughed, glancing over at Curtis who looked torn between embarrassed and soft as he watched Peaches with figurative hearts in his eyes.

And god, what you wouldn't give to have someone look at you like that.

A certain someone even…

Shaking yourself quickly, you glanced between the two of them with curiosity.

"So, what brings you by?" you asked, clicking into business mode despite the late hour. 

"We just wanted to pass off some tax paperwork and receipts before I lose them," Curtis gave you a wry grin as he passed over a large, brown envelope. 

"I'm whipping him and his business into shape," Peaches smiled proudly as she hugged Curtis' arm and shot him a wink. 

Laughing, you stored the envelope in your desk drawer. "I'll go through and file everything tomorrow." 

"Is Mike still around?" Curtis asked. 

"Oh no," you shook his head. "He had an off site meeting and said he likely wouldn't be back before I closed up."

"He'll probably head straight to Jo's," Peaches hummed. Her eyes lit up as she glanced at you. "You should come, too!"

Your mouth actually dropped open at the invitation, even as your tummy swooped with excitement. "Me? Really?"

Peaches' smile softened. "Yeah, of course. You're always welcome, you know that."

Your wide gaze nervously shifted from her to Curtis, but his smile was just as soft as hers, his eyes just as warm. 

"You should come," he confirmed. "Dinner will be my treat."

"Oh no, you don't have to," you immediately started to decline his kind offer, but Curtis waved away your words. 

"It's a done deal." 

"Yay!" Peaches was already bounding toward the door, but Curtis lingered, waiting for you to gather your things before he stepped closer. 

Your brows furrowed as he pulled another envelope from his inner jacket pocket, this one smaller, white, and thick. 

"Should I put that with your tax paperwork?" you asked. 

"No, this is for you." Curtis handed over the envelope.

Confused, you peeked inside, eyes widening as you spied a stack of hundred dollar bills. "What…I–"

"I know things must be difficult with your father and the care he needs, so I…we," he corrected. "Just wanted to help."

"Curtis," your voice quavered with emotion as you kept your watery eyes on the envelope of cash, too embarrassed and overwhelmed to meet his gaze. 

You didn't think any of them knew just how hard it was, how you had drained all of your savings for your father's care and to continue to pay his mortgage and living expenses on top of your own.

How the financial aspect of it wasn't even the worst part and how you would sell everything you had–even your soul–to make him better again if you could. 

"I can't take this," you finally whispered, the idea of being a burden to anyone, to the DAs especially, making anxiety churn in your gut.

"You can and you will." Curtis' big hand came into your line of vision and he gently took the envelope from your shaking fingers before tucking it securely in your purse. "Hey."

You glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. 

"You know you can ask for help when you need it, right?" he ducked his head, hands squeezing your shoulders as he gave you a serious–bordering on stern–look. "We take care of our own, you know that."

And the thought that Curtis, at least, thought of you as one of them–thought of you at all–made something warm and fond bloom in your chest, just for him.

You resisted the urge to hug him as you nodded instead, trembling out a quiet, "Yes, of course. Thank you." Sniffling, you laughed at yourself as you batted away a stray tear. "Thank you, Curtis, really."

He gave you a small smile, squeezing your shoulders one last time before the front door was swinging open again and Peaches gave you both the stink eye. 

"Excuse me, but I am starving, and if you both don't get your asses into gear, I am leaving without you and eating both of your dinners in addition to mine."

Huffing a laugh, Curtis grinned at you. "She will, she's a bottomless pit when she's hangry."

"You love that about me," Peaches scoffed before shooting you a wink.

Laughing, you felt a stir of hope and comfort rise within you, especially when Curtis wrapped an arm around your shoulders, tugged you into his side in an almost hug, and led you from the office.

You took another sip of your cocktail, still on your first drink despite the way Peaches had been trying to get you drunk. 

Your lips quirked at the corners as you set down your glass on the table and glanced across Jo's to where the rest of the group had gathered around the pool tables at the back.

Peaches and Andy's girl were playing their significant others in a game of pool as Mike and Jensen watched. The banter between them all flowed so effortlessly, even with Andy's girl, who was the newest to the group but seemed much further enmeshed in the inner circle of the Devil's Advocates than you.

You thought of how you had stuttered out responses during dinner as you caught up with the others, overthinking every reply before you gave it and so very flustered under the attention of the group.

But still, you were here, with them, included at last, just like you had always wished for, so you tried your best to focus on gratitude rather than overanalyzing every little thing.

Rather than being sad that they had all wandered away, as if they had forgotten your presence altogether.

The front door opened, and a towering figure stepped inside, breaking you from your train of thought as your eyes were instantly drawn to him from where you were hidden away by yourself in one of the larger booths against the far wall.

He was big, and thick, his shoulders broad and testing the seams of his worn denim button up. His jeans were dark and fit him like a glove, causing your gaze to dip to the prominent curve of his ass without your permission, before darting back up. 

The stranger was painfully handsome, giving all of the DAs a run for their money in the looks department. His skin was golden, his hair brown and curling around the collar of his shirt, perfectly matching his thick, neatly kept beard. And his eyes–two deep pools of dark blue–were fixed right on you.

Your own gaze widened at being caught ogling, and just before your eyes dipped to the table top, your cheeks already on fire, you got a glimpse of the beautiful stranger shooting you a wink and a sinful grin before he was sauntering further into the bar.

You only dared to glance up again when you heard Mike whoop his delight, greeting the brunette with a big grin and one of those guy hugs that was more slapping each other on the back than an actual embrace.

"Guys, this is Ari, my buddy from NA that I mentioned…" was all you could decipher before Ari was welcomed into the fold and handed a cue stick as Mike ushered him over to the unoccupied pool table in the back. 

You startled as your phone buzzed from within the dark confines of your purse, fishing it out to read Amelia's reply to your earlier text thanking her for staying later than usual with your father so that you could enjoy a night out.

Of course, honey, you enjoy yourself, for once. You deserve it.

Smiling, you tucked your phone away, head shooting up as you heard Mike call your name. Perking up, you quickly slid from the booth before hesitantly making your way over, trying not to appear too eager or pleased with his attention at last.

"Hi," you greeted him softly, your eyes flickering across the pool table to Ari.

He was grinning at you as he leaned over the pool table, lining up his shot. He took a moment to allow his eyes to dip from your face, over the rest of you, blatantly checking you out and chuckling quietly as you immediately began to fidget and your gaze darted away.

Part of you wished you had worn something better than your simple shirt dress and flats today, and you wrung your hands together before you, dazedly returning your attention to Mike as he moved closer to you. He smelled so good and was so warm, you had to resist leaning into his personal space as he began to talk.

"Hey, pip, do me a favor and go get us a fresh round of beers," he requested, fishing some money from his back pocket and shoving it into your hands, not bothering to wait for your response before he was circling the pool table to take his turn.

Your smile dimmed as you realized he had called you over to assist him, just like you did at work all day, instead of engaging you like the others, like you were a real friend.

"Sure," you murmured, swallowing down your disappointment as you turned on your heel and made your way to the bar. 

"Hey, sweetie, are you having a good time?" Jo greeted you with a warm smile as she stopped before you on the other side of the perfectly polished wood counter.

You mustered a genuine smile for her, nodding your head before ordering beers for Mike, Ari, and Jensen. You climbed up into one of the empty stools to patiently wait for their drinks, unable to help it as you spun in your seat to glance over at the gang. 

You froze as you watched Mike step away from the others for a moment, overly nonchalant as he dug his hand into his pants pocket as he approached his jacket. You saw him fiddle with something and then felt the acidic burn of bile at the back of your throat when you caught sight of the small baggie of white powder in Mike’s hand. He slipped it into his inner jacket pocket, and as he turned back to the others, you quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring.

Witnessing.

Sickness washed over you, roiling deep in your gut at the realization that Mike was using again. After everything. 

After almost dying.

And just like before, you had no idea. You probably spent more time with him than anyone, shut away together in the office all day, and still, you hadn't realized.

How could you not have realized?

Again.

"You Mike's girl?"

You jerked at the unfamiliar husky voice, straightening in your stool as Ari pulled up beside you and leaned against the bar so close that you could feel his body heat rolling off of him in waves. 

It took you a moment to register his words, so startled were you by his sudden appearance and proximity. Once you did, your eyes widened before your gaze dropped down to your lap and you twisted your fingers together.

"Me!? Oh gosh, no, I'm just…he's…we're just…friends," you muttered, peeking up at Ari because it was hard to keep your gaze away from him. 

He was so beautiful, especially up close.

His eyes twinkled at you as he gave you another leisurely onceover, grinning as you squirmed in your seat in response. "Well, maybe we can become friends, too, sweetheart."

Your belly swooped at the pet name and the way it was spoken in that deep timbre of his, and you could feel a wave of heat warm your cheeks as you fumbled for something to say.

Because you had never been hit on by someone that looked like him before, and you spent half the night by yourself as the rest of the group had a good time–without you–and it was nice to have someone to talk to, even if you didn't quite know what to say to seem interesting.

"We uh work together, too," you managed at last, meeting Ari's attentive gaze for a quick beat before you were looking away again. "Grew up together, my dad was a DA like his and the others’ so…"

"So I bet you know a lot of insider information, huh?"

Despite the teasing lilt to Ari's voice, there was something that flashed in his gaze, something intense that you couldn't quite place, but it had you squirming in your seat again as you frowned and shrugged, unsure of how to respond.

Because the truth was, you really weren't an insider at all, despite how much you longed to be, but that wasn't exactly something you wanted to admit, let alone chat about to a complete stranger.

Especially one who was showing what seemed to be genuine interest in you. 

You glanced down the bar to where Jo was still filling other drink orders, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt dress as you glanced back at Ari, then froze, your eyes going big because he was so close now.

You couldn't suppress your squeak of surprise, and Ari's face lit up in delight at the sound as he laughed quietly at how flustered you were.

"You're real sweet, huh?" he hummed, shifting even closer, until he was so close that you could feel the warm wash of his breath against your face as he continued, "I like sweet. I could just eat you all up."

The nervous giggle was falling past your lips before you could stop it, your insides clenching hard–especially once you caught sight of the way Ari's teeth were sinking into his bottom lip as he eye fucked you–and then you were startling again as Jo chimed your name, arriving with the three beers you had ordered. 

You immediately slid from your seat and gathered the beer bottles, then you turned and nearly walked right into Ari's chest, chirping in surprise before pulling up short. 

"You need some help, sweetheart?" he purred, looming over you and making your core throb with that warm, playful tone of his. 

"N-no, I'm good, thank you." 

"Well, since one of those are for me," Ari plucked a beer from your hold, giving you a panty-melting grin as you just stared, noticing how much bigger his hands were than yours as he took a deep drink. "Thank you," he winked at you.

"You're welcome." You shot him a nervous smile before carefully stepping around him, getting a whiff of his musky scent before you were scurrying back to the others to deliver their drinks. 

It wasn't long before you were back at the group's booth, all by yourself, but not minding too much as you were growing sleepy and eager to get home. 

It also gave you the opportunity to watch Mike, and it didn’t take long at all before he was turning away from the others, making like he was drinking his beer, but you saw it, the way he shook two white pills loose from his pocket and knocked them back along with the rest of his drink. 

Your stomach flipped, sourness filling the back of your throat as you watched Mike glance back at the others, as if to confirm he hadn’t been caught taking God knows what, before he was smiling and sauntering back over to the pool table. 

You just…couldn’t believe him.

After everything, after nearly dying, he was using drugs again.

Tears welled quickly as you recalled that day, finding him in the office, toeing the line of death from his overdose.

Shaking your head as your stomach roiled in protest at this new discovery, you grabbed your purse and shimmied from the booth. Scurrying across the bar, you made your way down the dark, back hallway toward the restrooms. You ducked into the tiny restroom that was the size of a closet, shutting and locking the door behind you before turning toward the sink and small mirror that hung above it.

You looked as devastated as you felt, your lower lip wobbling as a few tears spilled over. Sniffing hard, you wiped them away, turning on the cold water and splashing some on your face before patting your skin dry with some scratchy paper towels from the dispenser. 

You would just confront Mike in private, at work next week when it was just the two of you in the office. Maybe you had just misinterpreted everything. Yeah, perhaps you were just jumping to conclusions and being hyper-vigilant based on his history. 

Mind made up, and your stomach feeling a little more settled, you quickly used the restroom and washed your hands before ducking back out into the hallway, intent on calling it a night. 

You gasped as you collided with another. “I’m so sorry,” your words faltered as you looked up and met the dark, glittering gaze of Bryce Langley. 

Trying not to grimace, you eased away from him, noticing the way his hands lingered on your arms. You didn’t know Bryce well, as he was the youngest of the DAs, even younger than you, but from the few stray occasions you had interacted with him, he made you uncomfortable. 

Bryce was not a nice person despite the way he could turn on that charm of his to try to get what he wanted, and his ever-present cheshire smile did little to stop all the internal alarm bells from ringing in your head whenever he was in the vicinity. 

Especially now, when you were alone with him and out of sight and earshot of anyone else. 

“Um, sorry, Bryce.” You gave him a tentative smile as you tried to skirt around him. “Excuse me.”

Instead of allowing you to pass, Bryce shifted to block your retreat, leaning his shoulder against the wall and cornering you between him and the bathroom door as that slow, lazy smile of his unfurled across his lips.

"Haven't seen you around in a long time, pip,” he drawled. He was shameless in the way he gave you a long onceover, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips as he purred, “And my oh my, you've certainly grown up, huh?"

All of your hair stood on end as he shifted closer, making you back into the wall as you instinctively recoiled from him, which was a mistake as you suddenly found yourself pinned to the paneled wood behind you as Bryce loomed close enough for his body to brush against yours. 

"Oh, uh, yeah, I guess…" you quavered. You tried to hedge sideways, away from him, but Bryce’s hand shot out and planted against the wall, keeping you in place. 

That same hand touched your hip next, drifting low enough to pluck at the hem of your shirt dress as Bryce hummed, "You know, I'm not sure why the buttoned up little secretary look is doing it for me, but it really is."

You tried to laugh, like his observation–his come on–was a joke, but the sound was anything but amused, more like you were choking on air as you jerked at the feel of Bryce’s fingers on your bare thigh. “Bryce–”

"Come on,” he cut you off, giving you that megawatt grin that just oozed charisma and wreaked of manipulation. “Let's sneak out back and have a little fun."

The alarm bells in your head rang louder as Bryce gripped your wrist and yanked you against him. His free hand circled your waist, skimming along the curve of your ass as he started to walk backwards toward the back exit across the hall, taking you with him.

"I um…that's not really–" you started, but once again Bryce spoke over you.

"I'm just dying to know what kind of sounds you make when you're stuffed full of cock." There was a mean and hungry tilt to Bryce’s smile now, his eyes so dark they looked black–and evil–as he pulled you toward the exit.

“No, please, I was just about to leave.” Your voice was higher pitched than usual, tinged with alarm–with fear–as you tried to shove Bryce away from you.

“You can leave when I’m done having some fun,” Bryce cooed. “Besides, you should feel honored that you're even getting a scrap of attention in the first place.”

You winced at his barb, and the truth of it, feeling a new wave of tears building behind your eyes. “I said no,” you raised your voice as you renewed your struggles, yelping when Bryce flung you around and slammed you into the metal back door hard enough to hurt.

Your purse fell to the floor, the contents of it scattering around your and Bryce’s feet as he held you to the door with one hand on your throat and used the other to grope your chest hard enough to make you whine.

“Maybe you just need to be warmed up–” he started, but then his words turned into a surprised grunt as he was violently yanked away from you. 

You watched with wide eyes as Ari slammed Bryce into the opposite wall, his big hand circling the younger man’s neck and squeezing hard enough to make Bryce’s eyes bulge and his face turn beet red as he clawed at Ari’s hand. 

“I catch you touching her again, hell, I catch you so much as looking at her, and I will fucking end you, you piece of shit, do you understand?” Ari snarled close to Bryce’s face.

His hand squeezed harder, giving Bryce a rough shake to drive his point home. Looking almost purple now, Bryce nodded as best as he could, wheezing and coughing for breath when Ari’s hand finally fell away from his throat. 

Shaking in your spot a few feet away, you watched as Bryce hunched over and coughed and gasped for breath, Ari standing over him with a look so dark, it had you cowering when he turned your way. 

His features immediately softened, his brow furrowing with concern as he murmured, “You okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, giving Bryce one last glance as he staggered down the hallway and out of sight. Your relief at his departure–and at Ari’s appearance–was a visceral thing, and you sagged against the door, touching a hand to your chest and feeling the way your heart was still hammering away as it processed the last dregs of your fear and the adrenaline that came along with it.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” Ari asked, his gaze fretful as it glanced over you. 

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

You watched as Ari crouched at your feet and began to gather your possessions, carefully putting them back in your purse. You sank to the floor to help, feeling embarrassed for some reason and avoiding looking at him as you reached for your compact and lip gloss. 

When you went to return them to your purse, you froze as you caught sight of Ari’s big hand holding the envelope of money Curtis had given you earlier. 

“This is a lot of cash to be carrying around,” Ari told you. His eyes were shining with curiosity, and a new wave of worry, as you met his gaze.

“Yeah, I don’t usually, it was…unexpected.” For some reason, you felt like you owed him an explanation, so you babbled, “It was…a gift? From Curtis, and the others I guess.” You gently took the envelope and safely tucked it into the inner pocket of your purse. “My dad, he’s sick, and I’ve been taking care of him, and things are just…a little hard, you know? And expensive, everything’s so expensive, so…” 

More tears burned at the back of your eyes, everything finally catching up with you at once and warring with the deep-seated exhaustion you were always so good at ignoring for the sake of everyone who relied on you.

“So every little bit helps,” you tried to chirp, sniffling and mustering a small smile as Ari placed the last item back in your purse.

“I’m real sorry to hear about your father.” He truly looked it as he met your gaze. “It’s a good thing what you’re doing, taking care of him, but I’m sure it can’t be easy.”

“I make do,” you said as you rose to your feet.

Ari did the same, making you feel tiny in comparison as he stood before you. "I…I think it's time for me to go. I’m really tired.”

"Did you drive here?” Ari asked. When you nodded, he offered, “I'll walk you to your car.”

"Oh no, you don't have to,” you were quick to assure him, to avoid being an inconvenience.

"I want to,” he gave you a small smile, gesturing toward the other end of the hallway. “You wanna say goodnight to the others first?"

The others who were busy enjoying the company of each other while ignoring you for most of the night. 

The familiar hurt of always being on the outside looking in, always being left out, of being so forgettable, gnawed at you now more than usual after what had just happened, but you tried to stuff it down, down, down. 

You were here at least, and that was something. 

You should be grateful.

You would be grateful.

"Uh, no,” you smiled, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I don't want to bother them. It's fine."

Ari watched you for a beat, quiet as he observed you, his eyes shining with knowing and making more humiliation rise up as you curled your shoulders and hugged yourself tightly.

Could he tell, just by looking at you, how pathetic you were?

“Alright, let’s get you home then,” he eventually murmured.

You nodded, grateful as Ari motioned you past him but stuck close as you made your way toward the front exit of Jo’s and outside into the cool evening air. Your old-but-miraculously-well-operating car was tucked away at the end of the small dirt parking lot, and you stood beside the driver’s door now as you glanced up at Ari. 

Your smile was much more genuine as you told him, "Thank you, for handling Bryce. He can be kind of…"

"A dick?" Ari supplied.

You laughed, a real laugh, your belly fluttering as Ari grinned in delight at the sweet sound, his eyes looking warm as he watched you. 

"I was going to say ‘a lot,’ but yes also that,” you said. 

The two of you just stood there for a moment, and as shy as you were–as you felt–you couldn’t help but sneak peeks at Ari every couple of seconds because he really was beautiful. 

Something about the pure size of him, how big and thick he was, especially compared to you, had butterflies rising in your stomach and invading your chest. Had something warm and wanting sparking to life deep inside of you for the first time in a long time.

Your cheeks burned when your eyes met Ari’s and found an amused kind of knowing there, like he not only knew exactly what you were thinking and feeling but enjoyed your admiration. 

It struck you quite suddenly, that as much as you liked Mike, loved him and always would, you hadn’t actually felt it–this way–about him in quite some time.

But here you were now, painfully and instantly attracted to Ari despite having just met him, and you thought–and maybe hoped more than that–that he was attracted to you too, just a little. 

At the very least, he seemed to notice you when no one else did–you weren’t invisible to him–and that was something at least, and enough to make excitement bloom within you, hope, too.

"Well, you have a good night, sweetheart,” he husked. His gaze flickered down to your mouth for a beat, making your belly do a wild kind of somersault, but then he was tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans and taking a step back. 

"Yeah, you too,” you wisped, shooting him one final smile before unlocking your car door and slipping inside. Once you started the engine and rolled the window down, you whispered, “Goodnight, Ari,” your greedy gaze lingering on his handsome face before putting your car in reverse.

As you eased out of your parking spot, you heard Ari’s faint, "Goodnight, sweetheart,” and you couldn’t help but steal a few more glances of him in the rearview mirror as you started your drive home.

You were jittery with nerves as you sat at your desk, the work day almost over. 

You had spent most of the weekend trying to reaffirm to yourself that it was the right thing to do - confront Mike about what you had seen, make sure he was okay. 

He was your friend and you cared about him. You loved him.

And good friends took care of each other. 

Nodding to yourself, you quickly closed out of the remaining apps and your work email on your computer. Your belly turned topsy-turvy with another bout of anxiety just as you rose to your feet.

At the same moment, the front door to the office swung open, and there stood Ari, looking just as strikingly handsome as the first time you had seen him a few nights ago. 

Today, he wore another pair of faded jeans that fit him like a second skin, emphasizing the thick muscles of his thighs. His plain white t-shirt clung to his broad chest, doing little to hide the firm muscles that lay beneath, let alone his bulging biceps that were testing the white cotton for all it was worth. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

Ari’s concerned voice snapped you back to reality, and your face flamed in mortification as you realized that you had been full on ogling him and got caught doing so, again.

“Huh?” you replied dumbly.

Ari’s dark blue eyes sparkled at you as he sauntered closer, until he was looming on the other side of your desk. 

“I asked how you were doing and you were like a sweet little space cadet, total blank stare and everything.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, trying to stomp down another wave of embarrassment as your gaze dropped and you started to ramble to try to come up with an excuse for your behavior. “I’m just tired, it was a rough night with my father last night, and I guess it’s caught up to me, so…yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

The sadness in Ari’s voice made you feel even worse, so you tried your best to deliver a bright smile as you waved away your depressing overshare. “It’s okay! Um, are you a new accounting client of Mike’s or–”

“No, he’s here to meet me,” Mike answered your unfinished question as he emerged from his office, looking ready to leave for the day. 

“We were gonna head over to Jo’s for some dinner and pool,” Ari explained. “You should come with us.”

“I should?” you replied at the same time Mike asked, “She should?”

Ari shot him a disappointed frown that had Mike clearing his throat and shooting you an abashed grin. 

“Yeah, you totally should, pip. You’re always welcome to tag along.”

You flinched at “tag along,” your face warming once again as your eyes dropped to stare at the top of your desk.  

“I’d really like you to come with us,” Ari told you.

You blinked in surprise to find him standing right beside you now, throwing off an intense body heat and a faint woodsy scent that had your nipples pebbling beneath your blouse and your thighs pressing together beneath your skirt. 

You had never responded so viscerally to someone before, and it was throwing you for a loop so much, making it difficult to think straight, let alone string together an actual sentence, but you managed as much as you could. 

“I don’t want to impose,” you whispered. 

“You’re not, I invited you,” Ari’s smile was more of a pleading pout. “Come on, sweetheart, you deserve a little fun and to unwind after a long day, too.”

It was so funny, because Amelia, your father’s home caretaker, had told you something similar this morning before you left for work. 

“I’m here to lighten your load so you can live life a little, too, honey,” she said. “Let me help you; you don’t need to do this all on your own.”

“Okay,” you answered hesitantly, your eyes flickering to Mike, who was busy texting on his phone and not paying attention to your and Ari’s conversation in the least. Your gaze shifted to Ari’s. “If you’re sure?”

“Very sure,” he winked at you. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Belly fluttering at the way he was watching you–with so much warmth and hope that you’d never had aimed your way before–you could only smile like a dope, quickly gathering your things and trying not to swoon too much when Ari ushered you outside and walked you to your car.

A little while later, your belly was full from a good meal, and maybe a drink or two, and you were bent over one of the pool table’s at the back of Jo’s, your tongue sticking out in concentration and one of your eyes closed to try to improve your aim as you clumsily lined up your shot.

You were never very good at pool, but it was still fun to play. Luckily, Ari seemed to have the patience of a saint and didn’t mind playing you once Mike had wandered off to hang out with Jensen and Andy instead.

Pulling your cue stick back, you let it surge forward, pouting as the tip of it glanced off the cue ball before sending it weakly spinning aside, and nowhere near one of your striped balls. 

“I’m so bad at this,” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you took a step back and stumbled into Ari. 

His hands caught your flailing self by the arms, steadying you on your feet and grinning down at you as you stared up at him with big eyes and parted lips. 

Because you hadn’t realized that he had been standing so close, and right behind you.

“Can I give you a few pointers?” he asked, nodding at the pool table. 

“That would be very nice. Probably pointless, because I’m hopeless at this, but still very much appreciated.” 

“You’re funny,” Ari hummed, his voice a husky rumble as his eyes danced at you.

“Not often, I guess you just bring it out in me. Also maybe the alcohol helped.”

He laughed. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?” you asked in surprise. “You’d want to hang out with me again?”

Ari’s smile dimmed, a furrow forming between his brows as he ducked lower and told you, “I would. You’re not just a tag along to me.”

It was instant, the way your belly fluttered and bloomed with joy. Your breath hitched as you hugged your pool cue to your chest and blinked back a surge of happy tears at the thought that someone wanted to spend time with you, by choice, and just because.

“Come on, let me show you how to take a shot that actually progresses the game,” Ari teased.

You giggled as he winked at you, all too happy to have him lead you back to the pool table and give you some tips to help improve your game. 

And it actually helped! Within a few minutes, you could actually hit the other balls, and you even pocketed a few before accidentally doing the same to the eight ball and instantly losing. 

Ari just shot you a grin and a, “Maybe next time,” instead of teasing you mercilessly like the others would have. Then he insisted on getting you another drink before he sauntered over to the bar and you stared after him and enjoyed the view.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him, as he glanced back over at you as he waited for your drinks and shot you another flirtatious wink. Your belly swooped as you turned away, resisting the urge to cup your face between your hands and squee. 

So caught up in your exchange with Ari–at happily being under his undivided attention–you nearly walked right into Mike. 

“Whoa, watch it, pipsqueak,” he huffed. 

“Oh, sorry!” you quickly apologized. 

Mike just hmphed, looking irritable as he moved past you and toward his jacket, which was draped over the stool in the corner near the pool table. You watched him without trying to be obvious, your anxiety from earlier beginning to lap at you as Mike dug through his jacket pockets. 

You caught a glimpse of a small plastic bag filled with white powder, and then he was pocketing it and hurrying toward the restroom and out of sight. 

Stomach instantly sinking, you stared after him, dread and disappointment washing over you, because you knew. You just knew that he was going into the bathroom to snort whatever was in that baggie. 

The confirmation of one of your worst fears coming to fruition–Mike using again, potentially overdosing again, maybe dying this time–and the devastation that came along with it–hit you like a freight train. 

It was so sudden, the way you couldn’t quite catch your breath, your eyes blurring with tears as you touched your chest, and then clawed at it as your heart rate skyrocketed and felt like it would beat right through your chest.

You just needed a moment to calm down, you kept telling yourself as you dropped your pool cue on the table and staggered down the back hall, hastily pushing through the back door. 

You teetered on your feet for a beat, stumbling a few yards away from the exit as the constriction in your chest grew more noticeable–more scary–slowly crawling its way higher like some creeping dangerous thing, until it felt like there was something lodged in your throat and you truly couldn’t breathe.

You whimpered as the tightness in your chest began to overwhelm you. It was like there was no air to breathe as you sagged against the wall, clawing at your chest as you sank down into a crouch, quiet, choked sounds of fear spilling from your lips.

Dizziness swept over you as the sound of your slamming heart thundered loudly–deafeningly–in your ears, drowning out everything else around you. 

Just as blackness began to dance on the periphery of your vision and had you squeezing your eyes shut to avoid it, just as you thought that you really were going to pass out, warm hands gripped your shoulders and a deep voice called your name.

You blinked your tear-filled eyes open to find Ari crouched in front of you. His handsome face was twisted in concern as he reached for your hand and pressed it to his chest.

“Breathe with me, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Deep breath in,” he inhaled deeply, slowly, before exhaling just as slowly. 

You focused on the way his chest expanded and contracted beneath your palm. The way a silver chain peeked out from the collar of his shirt. Then, at last, you focused on the warm, hard mass of him, mesmerized as you unconsciously began to mirror Ari’s slow, calm breathing pattern. 

After a couple of moments, the real world flooded back into focus, your heart beat returned to normal, and you could fill your lungs with ease once more. 

You whimpered, collapsing onto the ground as a few tears slipped down your cheeks. You pulled your knees to your chest, pressing your forehead to them as you curled in on yourself, terrified by what had just happened and mortified that Ari, of all people, had been there to witness it.

“Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart.” Ari smoothed a hand over your head. “You’re okay now.” 

“I’m sorry,” you wobbled, sniffling back more tears. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Looks like you had a panic attack.”

You were shaking your head before you even processed Ari’s observation. “But I don’t…have those.”

“Did something happen?” he asked, his eyes flickering between yours. “While I went to get our drinks?”

You thought of Mike pocketing the white powder then hurrying off to the bathroom, your stomach flipping unpleasantly as you swallowed against the burn in the back of your throat. 

You should say something, right? You should tell someone, shouldn’t you?

But Mike had met Ari through Narcotics Anonymous, so that meant Ari was probably a recovering addict himself. What if this triggered Ari or upset him?

So maybe you should tell one of the others then? Curtis or Andy? But wouldn’t that be betraying Mike? 

He would hate you forever if you ratted him out. Maybe even fire you.

Because when it came to the DAs, the only thing worse than being invisible was being a rat.

You were in a lose, lose situation, and you didn’t know what to do. You felt so sad and scared and overwhelmed, and it just consumed you entirely as your panicked mind spiraled deeper and deeper.

“Hey, don’t cry, you’re okay now,” Ari soothed as you choked on a sob. He reached for you, gently rubbing your arm and giving your shoulder a squeeze on every ascent.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, covering your face. “I’m sorry.”

“C’mere, honey,” Ari said, gently tugging you against his chest and into a very firm embrace that felt like safety incarnate. 

His hands were slow and gentle as they smoothed up and down your back, and he shushed you softly as you wept against his chest, not easing up on his embrace until your crying had faded to sniffles and you finally straightened and pulled away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, wiping a few stray tears from your face. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Hey,” Ari gently gripped your chin and tipped your shy gaze up to his. “You have a lot on your plate, you don’t need to apologize for being overwhelmed or upset. Unfortunately, feelings are a part of being human. That’s what you get for not being a robot.”

Your giggle was watery as it spilled past your lips, and the dread in your belly eased when Ari gave you a big, warm smile. 

“Come on, why don’t we call it a night and get you home?

You nodded, not resisting when Ari pulled you to your feet before him. The exhaustion hit you once you were standing on solid ground, your shoulders hunching beneath the weight of it.

“I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car’s here,” you started to object.

“Mike and I can drop it off at your place later tonight so you have it for work tomorrow, okay? We drove here together, so it’s not a problem at all,” Ari told you.

“But–”

“Please,” Ari interrupted you, gripping both of your shoulders and ducking his head so your gazes aligned. “Let me do this for you. Let me take care of you in this small way.”

And that nearly set you off all over again. 

Because people didn’t take care of you. You took care of them. It’s what made you useful, of value, worth their time and attention on the rare occasions they gave it to you.

“Why?” you couldn’t help but ask him, your voice breaking on that one, simple word.

Ari’s face softened, more of that sad knowing shadowing his gaze as he watched you. “Because I want to, and you deserve it.”

You glanced away from him as your eyes filled with a fresh wave of tears, biting on your bottom lip to quell its trembling as you tried to rein in all of the big feelings stirring within you. 

“Come on,” Ari murmured. 

You didn’t object as he curled his arm around you, pulling you into his side as he led you down the alley and across the parking lot. In fact, you sank against Ari more fully, greedily absorbing his warmth, and his comfort, too tired to do more than follow where he wanted you to go as he urged you past your car and to his own instead.

“Hey.”

You startled, your eyes wide and your heart racing as you pulled your gaze away from the spreadsheet you had been so diligently working on to find Ari towering over your workspace.

“Hi,” you managed, feeling an embarrassed kind of heat wash over you. 

Because the last time you had seen Ari had been a few nights ago, after your unexpected panic attack. 

“I’ve been thinking about you,” he murmured as he circled your desk and sat on the corner of it.

“You have?”

His lips tilted into an amused smile at your obvious surprise. “I have. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you answered, your gaze falling away shyly as you squirmed in your seat. 

What did you say to someone who had seen you in such a vulnerable state? 

Someone that you liked so much even if a small part of you thought that you shouldn’t.

Things like drugs and crime had been on the periphery of your life as long as you could remember, but it came with the territory of your dad having been a Devil’s Advocate, and now working for Mike, Andy, and Curtis. 

Still, you were pretty far removed from all of that, so the idea that Ari was likely a former addict made you nervous. 

You didn’t think any less of him–or Mike, for that matter–but you were definitely outside of your depth when it came to that kind of stuff, and well, you just couldn’t help but wonder if maybe you shouldn’t like him so much? 

If maybe he was even bad news, or potentially dangerous?

“You did it again, zoned out on me,” Ari huffed a quiet laugh. “I really gotta up my game if you find me so boring.”

“No!”  You squeaked instantly, reaching for him and gently touching his hand without thinking. “You’re not boring at all! I’m so sorry–”

Ari’s big hand turned over beneath yours, his sudden, unexpected grip on you causing your words to taper off into a startled gasp.

“Stop. Apologizing,” he admonished, and there was a grit to his voice that made your insides clench hard, especially with the way his gaze was so focused on you, so intense.

“I’m sor–” you started, and then abruptly snapped your mouth shut.

Ari laughed again, gently playing with your hand, so gently, in fact, that it was kind of mesmerizing and making your body perk up and tremble with a kind of anticipation you had never experienced before.

“Um, were you looking for Mike?” you wisped. “He’s gone for the day, but if you want me to give him a message or something, I can.”

"Actually, I was looking for you."

"Me? Why?"

"Come out with me,” Ari said, his thumbs brushing along your knuckles. His gaze lifted from his touch to your wide eyes, and he smirked. 

"Uh, what?"

“Why are you always so shocked that I want to spend time with you?” he asked.

The ever familiar heat of embarrassment was back as you squirmed in your seat, your shoulders hunching up to your ears as you shrugged. “I’m just not used to people seeking me out, recreationally, I guess.”

"Well, get used to it,” Ari replied, giving your hand a soft squeeze before releasing his hold on you and pouring himself to his feet. “Come on, I'll buy you dinner. I heard the diner’s good but I haven’t tried it yet. I'm new in town, and I don't really know anyone besides Mike, so, you’re kind of stuck with me and might as well get a meal out of it.”

You laughed, feeling shy once more under Ari’s attentive gaze. 

And the fact that he genuinely wanted to spend time with you. 

You.

“Okay,” you breathed, shutting down your computer and reaching for your purse. “Just let me text my father’s caretaker and let her know I’ll be a little later than usual.”

“Sounds good, and I’ll drive,” Ari offered. “So we can spend more time together on the way over. I can drop you back off here to get your car after dinner.”

“Sure,” you agreed easily, still smiling as you grabbed your things and tried not to combust from giddiness as Ari corralled you in front of him and ushered you outside.

“How’s your father doing?” Ari asked as you sat across from him in the diner booth enjoying your meal. 

“Oh,” you covered your mouth as you finished chewing, waiting to swallow before continuing. “He’s doing okay, I guess. He has Alzheimer's, and it’s been getting progressively worse as it does. I think he may need to go into a care facility soon, but the thought just…guts me,” you whispered, “So I want to hold off on that as long as possible.”

“It sounds like a very sad situation. Are you and your father close?”

You took a sip of your drink before responding. “Yeah, I’m definitely a daddy’s girl,” you grinned, shrugging bashfully at Ari’s soft smile. “My mom passed away when I was twelve, and it was just us against the world, you know? He always tried so hard to give me a good life, so the least I can do is return the favor now that he’s the one who needs looking out for.”

“You’re such a pleasant surprise,” Ari said.

You blinked at him, unsure if his words were a compliment or not.

He must have been able to easily read your uncertainty, because he chuckled. “In a good way,” he promised. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mike and the other DAs seem great, but I’ve never met someone so…pure in this kind of inner circle.”

“I’m not really part of their inner circle,” you confessed.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ari countered. “They seem fond of you. You work for them, spend time with them, your dad was an Advocate, I mean, you’re in the fold, sweetheart.”

Feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the topic of conversation, and how far off from the truth Ari was, you stared down at your plate, fiddling with one of your fries before picking it up. “I guess,” you murmured before taking a bite. 

Once you were done with dinner and dessert, because Ari had insisted you deserved it, you found yourself back in his car, enjoying his quiet company as you started the drive back to your own car.

You were enjoying the quiet alongside Ari so much that it took you a few moments to realize he was driving in the opposite direction of the office and where your car was parked. 

“Oh, I think you got a little turned around,” you said as you perked up in your seat. “You’ll want to go back the other way to get back to the office.”

“I know exactly where we are,” he shot you an easy grin. “Just thought we could enjoy a drive for a bit, spend a little more time together before you head home.”

“Oh,” you sank back against your seat, your belly fluttering as you tried not to smile too big at the fact that Ari wanted to spend even more time with you. “Okay.” 

A few minutes later, he pulled into the empty parking lot facing one of Newton’s public parks. It was desolate this time of day, and you couldn’t help it as your nerves kicked up as you sat in the dark car beside Ari, just the dim light from a nearby streetlamp softly illuminating the area. 

“You spacing out on me again?” Ari teased.

“No,” your gaze shot over to him, your cheeks warming at the sinful smile he was aiming your way. “I’m just…nervous.”

“Nervous?” Ari tutted, shrugging off his seatbelt and turning his big body toward yours. “Don’t be nervous.”

Your breath caught as he reached over and undid your seatbelt, leaning more in your personal space than was probably necessary as he gently guided the recoiling belt away from you and over your shoulder. 

When his hand touched your face, fingers tickling beneath your chin to turn your eyes his way, you swore your heart stopped. And then it was kicking into high gear again and hammering away in your chest as you struggled to meet Ari’s penetrating stare. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, trailing his knuckles along your warm cheek. 

You nodded, words failing you entirely as Ari’s thumb dragged along your bottom lip and a quiet grunt at the softness of you caught in the back of his throat. 

When his hand moved to cradle your cheek and hold you still for his approach, you sucked in one shaky inhale as your wide eyes met his before Ari’s lips were touching yours and your eyes fluttered shut. 

He was so gentle as he kissed you. His lips soft and plush and warm as they pressed against your own. He tilted his head, knocking his nose against yours, and when you gasped in response–made a soft mewl of surprise–you could actually feel his grin before he was kissing you with more intensity this time around.

By the time Ari deepened the kiss, and his tongue swept into your mouth, you were pressing as close to him as possible with the center console between you. Your fingers curled into the denim of his button up as you relented to the very enthusiastic onslaught of his mouth and tried your best to keep up with every eager press of his lips, every sinful stroke of his tongue. 

When he finally pulled away and allowed you to catch your breath, his big hand descended from your cheek to cup the side of your throat, his thumb brushing over the wild pulse fluttering just beneath the surface of your skin.

Then his hand descended lower still, his touch grazing your breast and making your breath hitch as he stopped to test the weight and feel of you. He groaned when you keened in response, leaning into his touch and not objecting once his hand was back to gently cradling your throat as the other snuck between your thighs.

Your glazed eyes met Ari’s as his fingers teased along the front of your panties, his lips curling into a roguish grin when you squirmed and rocked against his touch, spreading your legs wider for him.

"Ohhh, sweetheart, you're trouble,” he murmured, watching with a sinfully dark gaze that harbored a hint of pleasant surprise as you dropped a hand to his wrist and encouraged the pressure of his touch against your cunt.

“I’m not,” you denied, your free hand clinging to Ari’s shoulder as you subconsciously stared at his kiss-swollen mouth and licked your lips. “Please.” 

You wanted to kiss him again, and again, for a good, long while. You wanted to memorize his taste on your tongue, and feel more of his warm, firm body beneath your touch. You wanted his fingers filling your cunt and making you cum until you couldn’t think straight, and then you wanted to bask in the feeling of being wanted, of being desired by another.

By him.

Your foggy mind was spiraling out at the very idea–and your need for more–so it took you a moment to absorb Ari’s next words. 

"Yeah, you're a good girl, aren't you?” he cooed, giving the front of your panties a final caress before his hand retreated, and his grip on your throat grew firmer. “Which is why you're gonna tell me everything you know about the Devil’s Advocates, about Andy Barber and Curtis Everett, all of them. You're gonna be good for me and do exactly what I tell you to do."

When his words finally sank in, you recoiled from him as if you’d been slapped. 

It actually felt like you had been, you were so jarred by what he said. By the way he was looking at you now with steely determination in his eyes, no warmth and amusement to be found. You felt fear spark inside of you and shuddered as a chill raced up your spine. 

"What?” you blinked, your lashes fluttering as you pressed yourself against the passenger side door and stared at Ari, trying to determine if maybe he was joking? Was he just trying to be funny and it fell flat?

You tensed when he leaned closer, but all he did was reach past you, popping open the glove box. You struggled to swallow against the dryness in your throat when you caught sight of the black gun and the shiny, silver police badge beside it.

"You're a cop?" Your voice wobbled, tears blurring your vision and something inside of you wilting at the realization that this was why Ari had been paying you so much attention. 

He wasn’t really interested in you, he didn’t care about you, he didn’t want you. 

He was just trying to get information out of you, he was just using you, like everyone else.

"A detective, actually,” he said, not sounding apologetic in the least as he closed the glove box, leaned in close, and murmured, “You're willingly involved with a gang of criminals. I can't even count the number of accessory charges we can tack on your pretty little head. So, you’re gonna tell me everything you know, and you’re gonna start with the murders of Neal Loguidice and Robert Pronge from the East Street Gang.” 

You shook your head, your mind still reeling and your brain struggling to process the turn your night had taken, how stupid you had been. 

“Focus,” Ari gritted, giving you a little shake and aiming your cloudy gaze his way. “Tell me about Loguidice and Pronge. Who killed them? Were all the DAs involved? Was it premeditated? Was it Barber? Everett?”

The names Loguidice and Pronge didn’t ring any bells for you. All you knew about the East Street Gang was they were a rival gang of the DAs and they had taken Andy’s girl months ago and tried to hurt her. And the only reason you knew that was because you had accidentally overheard Mike on a phone call the night it had happened before he rushed out of the office without an explanation. Then Andy’s girl had gone off the grid for a while before only emerging with Andy and the others again a month or two ago. 

Ari huffed your name, impatience coming off of him in waves, and it was so unlike how he had treated you up until now that you couldn’t help it as your chest hitched with a muffled sob and a few tears finally broke free.

"I-I don't know anything. I don’t know those names. They don’t tell me that kind of stuff, I just work for them and–"

"Bullshit,” Ari snarled, his grip on your throat tightening as he collared your neck and aimed your gaze at his. “You grew up with them. You see all their books. You're a fly on the wall and invisible to all of them, so you know much more than you think you do and you're gonna be cooperative, my eager-to-help confidential informant, or I'll make sure you rot in prison beside all of them.” He leaned closer, his nose nearly touching yours as he whispered, “And you won’t be able to take care of your father from there, sweetheart, so you better start talking.”

It was painful this time as the sob caught in your chest, more tears streaking down your cheeks as you met Ari’s hard gaze and trembled beneath his harsh touch. 

You couldn’t believe what was happening, that he was threatening such horrible things, to take you away from your father, who needed you so desperately. 

“Please…why are you doing this?”

“Because Loguidice wasn’t just a rival gang leader. He was my cousin’s fiancé, and she was fucking gutted over his murder and has been a shell of herself ever since. I owe it to her to solve this case and put violent scum like the DAs away for good.”

Distantly, despite your own shock and terror, you felt a pang of sympathy for Ari’s cousin and the loss she was dealing with, but it was shaken away when Ari gave you another rough jostle. 

“So, you’re gonna sing like a fucking bird for me, or else.”

He leaned over once more, opening the glove gox and rifling through it, and something about the sight of his phone and watching him click into the voice recorder app–knowing his expectation of you talking and being a rat against the only family you had ever known–finally had your fight or flight instincts kicking in.

Reaching behind you, you yanked on the door handle, falling out of the car and hitting your ass on the ground hard before you scrambled to your feet and took off across the park for the nearby woods.

“Goddamnit,” you heard Ari hiss behind you, then the sound of his car door opening before his heavy footfalls sounded on the pavement, in hot pursuit.

You cleared the last swing set, your flats sliding along the overgrown grass as you gasped for breath and tried to ignore the stitch in your side as you ran. All you could think about was getting past the line of trees and to the entrance of the woods that could possibly give you cover because you knew them better than Ari from growing up in Newton, from playing in this very park, and tagging along with the DAs in these very woods.  

A small sense of elation filled you once you cleared the tree line, and leaves and twigs crunched beneath your feet, and then you were tackled from behind and choked on a scream as you went down hard.

You were so discombobulated from the fall, from the adrenaline surging through your system, that you didn’t even fight him as Ari rolled you over onto your back and pinned your hands above your head. 

His big body was heavy as it sank against your own, settling between your sprawled legs and trapping you beneath him as you stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He didn’t seem furious at your attempt to flee like you expected; he seemed almost…excited.

His handsome face had a pink flush to it, his eyes so dark they looked black, and his broad chest heaving as he stared down at you with a smirk curling his lips. 

“Gotta give you credit, I didn’t think you’d actually try to run away from me, just like a sweet, scared little bunny, huh?” There was a husk to his laugh that had your cunt clenching, and shame filled you at your body’s reaction given your current circumstances and what he wanted from you.

"Please, I don't know anything and…” you swallowed, your words more truthful than defiant as you told him, “I wouldn't tell you even if I did. They’re my family.”

"Mmm, you're braver than I gave you credit for, too, bunny,” Ari sighed. “And more stubborn. I dunno why you're so eager to protect them when they could care less about you.” 

He watched as you flinched at the truth of his words, taking no joy in saying them or their effect on you as you looked away from him as a few more tears streaked down your cheeks and you quietly sniffled. 

“Maybe I went about this the wrong way,” he hummed, watching you thoughtfully as you squirmed beneath him. “Maybe threats and scare tactics aren’t what you need. It’s okay though, I can be persuasive in other ways.”

You gasped when Ari suddenly rutted against you, your stunned gaze shooting to him and drinking in the wolfish glitter in his eyes, the sinful satisfaction. “D-don’t,” you trembled, trying to shove away from him.

“Don’t try to play hard to get now, sweetheart, I know you want me,” Ari purred as he ducked close and nosed along your jaw. “If I didn’t come clean about being a cop back in the car, I would have had you riding me within minutes of showing you some soft attention.”

You shook your head, words to refute his claim failing you because you both knew he was right.

The pit of shame–of devastated disappointment–widened within you, and you couldn’t help it as you started to cry. 

“I-I’m not like that, I thought you liked me,” you quavered.

“I do like you,” Ari cooed. He pressed a kiss to your tear-stained cheek. “Everything I said to you so far has been the truth. You are a pleasant surprise, and not who I was expecting to encounter at all when I went undercover for this case, which is why I want what’s best for you, and the DAs aren’t it.” Sighing, he shoved away from you, rising to his feet before bending to grab a hold of you and pull you up as well.

His hands were shameless and lingered as he gently swept the dirt and leaves from your clothes. He framed your face between his hands, holding you and your gaze captive as he watched you for a long moment. 

“I think I have an idea of how to make you cooperate–”

“I won’t,” you whispered, trying to recoil from his hold. 

“We’ll see,” Ari countered. He tugged you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead, his gentleness belying the looming threat of who he was and what he wanted from you. His lips tilted into an almost smirk when you stilled and didn’t try to push him away. “But we’ll save that for another day. For now, let's get you home, bunny,” he hummed, smoothing a big hand over your head before corralling you close and leading you out of the woods. 

“You’re gonna keep this between us,” Ari spoke sternly as you reached his car. Turning you to face him, he pressed you back against the passenger side of the vehicle. “If I find out you made a peep and blew my cover, I’ll have Weiss locked up so quickly, your head will spin, got it?”

All you could do was nod, hugging yourself tightly as you sniffed back more tears, your mind whirling out of control and your body exhausted from everything that had happened tonight. 

How quickly, and thoroughly your life had unraveled. 

That the DAs were in serious danger. 

And the fact that Ari was behind it all.

He snapped your name, and you blinked back to reality, glancing up at him in question from beneath your lashes. 

“Say it, that you understand, that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

“I understand,” you whispered, more tears gathering as you promised, “I won’t tell anyone.”

A glimmer of that familiar soft warmth sparked to life in Ari’s gaze as he watched you surrender to him in this small way. 

“Good girl,” he purred, eyes twinkling as you shivered at his words, at his praise.

Then he turned you toward the car, and gave your ass a gentle pat of encouragement, watching in satisfaction as you hopped to and slipped back into his vehicle without any resistance at all. 

AHHHHHHHH, YOU GUYS. I AM SO LAIWJEFOIFJWOEIFJ OVER THIS. THIS STORY HAS BEEN LIVING RENT FREE IN MY MIND FOR YEARS AND I AM SO SO HAPPY IT IS FINALLY COMING TO LIFE AND SEEING THE LIGHT OF DAY.

PLEASE OH PLEASE TAKE A MOMENT TO DROP ME YOUR FEEDBACK, REACTIONS, ETC. I NEED TO SPIRAL ABOUT THIS LIKE YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW LOL. ❤️

—

I no longer do tag lists, but if you'd like to be notified when I post new writing, follow my side blog @‌sirisshamelesshoelibrary​ and turn on notifications to get pinged when I drop some new hoe fuel 😘

Please note that I do not give permission for my work to be translated, reposted, or published anywhere other than my Tumblr. Reblogs are most welcome and encouraged though! ❤️

Just sending you some love, Dibs 😘

Also, imagine being seated between those thighs on a nice summer day *swoon* 🥰

How did I miss this ask? 😳 I love ya Carly 💞

But yes, sitting between his legs would be absolutely divine. Drabble time!

+++++

You were a scorned woman, set to marry the Prince. You were bred to rule beside a man, raised for the Crown. Hands unmarked of any labour, dress ironed and laying perfect over your figure and your virtue intact; you were the vision of a proper lady who would one day be a Queen.

The winds of scandal were sudden and took your life by a storm, ravaging your reputation and life in one fell swoop, and you were ruined. The woman who would have lived in a castle became a name whispered with suspicion, pity and scorn.

Sherlock did his best to save the last shreds of your dignity, proving your innocence and worth to the society. But a fallen woman is not easily raised, and your dreams of being a Queen were dashed away.

You didn't know what to do with your life then, having no further need of royal etiquette lessons. You found yourself leaning on the one man who had promised to salvage your image. He was witty, sharing the details of his cases that took your mind away from your future that seemed shrouded in fog.

Carriage rides, walks in the park, you didn't know when it happened when you stopped thinking before taking his hand and resting your head on his chest. His strong arms seemed to be the only thing holding you together.

You figured that he looked like a Prince too, with his curls fluttering in the summer breeze as he watched you approach him under the tree. His pipe was smoking and you felt jealous of it for it felt those sinful lips over it way more than you did.

"What are you thinking?" He asked you, offering you a hand and bringing you down to sit between his thighs. Strong muscle surrounded you, and his eyes pierced you like sunlight through rolling clouds.

"Don't you already know, Mr Holmes? They say you know everything." You whisper, bringing his pipe to your mouth and blowing smoke on his face. He smirks, holding you close and nuzzling your neck.

"Your mind? Yes. Teach me to read your heart." He said.

You shifted to look at him, your beacon of light that parted the clouds that surrounded you. His lap felt a way more worthy throne than the one in palace would have.

"For you, my heart is but a mirror. You'll only ever see yourself there."

+++++

This is so sweet 💜

First Date

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: Steve has the best first date thanks to you. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Fluffy fluff, light pining, first date, first kiss, mentions of the holidays, Steve Rogers (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Sixth day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to Steve Rogers. Requested by the incredible @buckyownsmylife. You deserve only good things! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If there was one thing Steve still wasn’t used to after the serum, it was that women wanted to date him. It was strange even after he was taken out of the ice that people actively sought out his company when they used to overlook him. Bucky no longer had to convince his dates to bring along another girl for him. And Natasha, of course, did her best to set him up with a few different women.

He relented when he realized she wasn’t going to stop.

She gave up when the third girl she set him up with didn’t work out.

“What was wrong with this one?” she asked.

“Nothing was wrong with her,” Steve told her truthfully. “She was just wrong for me.”

He wondered if he was doomed to be alone.

Until you asked him out.

A breathtaking new agent with a loving smile who could easily put men twice your size on their backs. He was inexplicably drawn to you and wouldn't be breaking any bylaws by dating you. He planned to ask you out, but you beat him to the punch one day after sparring.

"Would you want to grab dinner with me Saturday?"

"A date?" he asked as you nodded.

"Yeah, a date," you said with a hopeful smile.

It felt good to have you smile at him that way.

"I'd love to," he smiled back.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at six o'clock. Dress warm, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiled more, wondering what you had in mind.

He got his answer when you showed up at his apartment right on time.

“Oh, wow,” you whispered when he opened the door. He heard your heart rate speed up as you gazed at him. You told him to dress warm, but he still wanted to look his best. “Sorry. I’m staring.”

“It’s okay,” Steve chuckled. You told him to dress warm, but he still wanted to look his best. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m staring, too.”

You looked at your feet with a small smile before you lifted your head again. “I don’t mind.”

The breathy tone in your voice had his heart racing, too. “We should probably get going, otherwise I’ll just stare at you all night,” he teased.

The other dates he had been on had initial awkwardness in the beginning, but he felt none of that when he held out his hand for you. Even through the fabric, he felt electricity crackle between the two of you. Like a natural fit.

“Now, I should warn you,” you began as he led you out of the apartment building. “I kind of deviated away a bit from the normal first date dinner."

“I’m sure whatever you have set up is going to be amazing,” he smiled, giving your hand a small squeeze.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I wanted to make it something to remember.”

“If I were a better gentleman, I would’ve been the one to plan this.”

“You think I’d make you plan your first date since you’ve been unfrozen?” you asked incredulously as you began to walk again. “Never.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly as you pulled him along the sidewalk. He didn’t have the heart to tell you this wasn’t his first date. Not when you looked so happy.

“Here it is!” you grinned.

A large horse and carriage stood by the curb with a coachman who tipped his hat. The red plush bench had a blanket for extra warmth and Steve noticed a small table with two drinks and a large box across from where they’d sit. He could smell the pizza from where he stood.

It was from his favorite restaurant.

“I thought we could have pizza and drinks while we looked at lights around the city. And there’s a bakery stop along the way so we can have dessert,” you explained as you approached the carriage. “I figured this would give us a chance to talk and see how beautiful our home looks when we’re not fighting to keep it safe.”

Steve didn’t get in right away as his eyes met yours, memorizing how beautiful you looked under the city lights. You held your breath as he stepped closer. He knew you put a lot of thought into this evening. That alone made him feel special.

"But if you hate it, I can-"

“This is incredible,” he said as you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Really? Because your silence made me a little nervous,” you giggled.

Steve held up a hand to stop the coachman from helping you in, wanting to do it himself. “I'm sorry. I’m told I can be a bit stoic,” he joked, settling into the carriage beside you once you got comfortable.

“Didn’t I tell you? This is a stoic free carriage,” you teased.

"If anyone can make me smile, it's you."

He hoped that didn't sound cheesy.

"I like making you smile," you said as the carriage began to move.

The two of you traded stories as you ate and rode through the city. The lights brought warmth to the night sky, but he found himself staring at you more than the scenery. By the time you finished eating the pizza and stopped for warm, freshly baked cookies, he had his arm around you and the blanket over both of your legs.

"So, is this how you pictured your first date?"

"No, I didn't. This is even better," he smiled, brushing a bit of chocolate from the corner of your mouth away with his thumb.

"It is?" you asked, your voice soft as he brought his thumb to his mouth.

"It is," he said, unaware of how enticing he looked as he licked it clean. He bet you tasted just as sweet. "I wish Natasha had set you up with me first."

The longing in your eyes shifted to confusion. "First? What do you mean?" you asked before you nodded in understanding. "I'm not your first date, am I?"

Steve briefly closed his eyes. Shit. He didn't mean to say that. He was a terrible liar though, so he knew he couldn't come up with an excuse.

"No," he said.

"I'm so sorry," you said, picking a bit at the blanket and avoiding his gaze. "That was a really dumb assumption on my part."

"It wasn't dumb," he promised. "I don't exactly go around broadcasting my personal life."

That happened to him enough while he was under the ice and you wouldn't have known.

"It was dumb, but thank you."

He didn't want you to feel bad or embarrassed. "Look at me, please."

It took a moment, but you slowly turned your head toward him. He wanted to kiss the uncertain expression off your face. Leaning in, that's exactly what he did. The brush of his lips against yours was soft and full of promise.

Perfect.

"This is the best date I've ever had," he whispered.

"Our date isn't over yet," you smiled when he leaned in for another kiss.

With your lips against his, he imagined what it would have been like had he taken you out in the 40's. Maybe the two of you would have gone dancing. Any excuse to hold you close like this.

It would be the perfect second date.

Steve deserves something sweet. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Steve Rogers Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

I may like Logan more than I thought 🥵

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

The feels on this one! The angst, the hope, how my heart skipped

Fucking Ransom and the way he is written in here he could totally have my heart

@stargazingfangirl18 is definitely one of my favourite writers 😍

Say It

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader Word Count: 3,039 Summary: You went and caught feelings and scared Ransom away…and then he shows up at your door at four in the morning. Warnings: Explicit language. Angst with a happy ending. AU. Soft!Ransom.

A/N: This is for the lovely @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s 500 followers celebration. Congrats, sweet soul! I so appreciate you and your kindness and hoeing. Thank you for hosting this challenge. Enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

Continuar a ler

Jesus Christ I definitely have a thing for dark Jensen now 🥵

What kind of dark individual would Jake Jensen be, I reckon he be like cyber stalker and with his military training kinda scary combo for a guy after you but when you meet him his like this awkward guy having trouble stringing a sentence along in his awkward yet charming way an when you find out what's happening what are you going to do he's best friend is a sniper. Do you know anyone who has written a dark Jensen

Ohhhh! I love this dark HC for Jensen!! I’ve always had trouble picturing dark!Jensen, but this is such a brilliant concept that I can totally see!!! Thank you for sharing it, my hoe brain delights 🥴🤤

I’ve not come across a lot of dark!Jensen fics. The only one I know of is the in progress series Hiding by @bonkywobble 😍

Fellow hoes, any other dark!Jensen recs?! Please share if you have any! 😘🙏🏻

𝖊𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖙 | priest!Steve Rogers x reader

summary: anybody can get a boy into bed, it’s not very hard if you have low standards (which you, historically, have), but it takes a special kind of woman to seduce a man of the cloth.  the question is, while you’re tempting him away from a life of holiness, can he convince you to change your ways as well?  

word count: 8.7k

warnings: smut!! (including rough sex, oral sex m & f receiving, fingering, and a bit of dubcon at some points), an overwhelming amount of religious references, sex in religious places, use of a confession booth as a glory hole (i’m so sorry), very slight breeding kink, a non-sexual slap, semi-public sex, implied age gap, dommy reader but steve has some dom moments too, and she calls him ‘Father’ because that’s his title so… just be prepared for that

Continuar a ler

𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯.

this is your daily reminder that yes- your comfort character would absolutely want to rearrange your guts and cuddle you afterwards.