no funny business | levi x reader

one [ nsfw ]

The first time you see him is at the club you frequent with your friends. He's sitting at the bar, holding a glass of something that looks like whiskey in his fingertips. Quite literally, 'in his fingertips'- he's holding the rim of the glass. 

He's ridiculously attractive, from what you can see: dark hair, styled in an undercut, sharp features. One of your friends notices you staring and pokes you. "He's hot," she says with a grin.

On cue, the rest of your friends follow your stare. One of them whistles. "You sure know how to pick 'em!"

"He's really good looking," you agree, sipping some of the fruity drink you'd ordered to start.

"Go say hi!" your friend urges. "You're hot, he'll like you."

Normally, you'd say yes. You'd suck up the courage and go sit down on the bar stool next to him, maybe say hi and try to start up a conversation, but he looks quite intimidating and you don't have nearly enough alcohol in you to try and keep your self esteem intact if he shot you down. 

"Not tonight," you say, turning back to your friends. You raise your glass. "Tonight's about you guys!"

They all cheer and tip their glasses in. Your eyes flicker to the mystery man only once more before you tip the rest of your drink down your throat and remind yourself that you're here with your friends, not for one night stands.

.

The first time Levi sees you is the same night, when you're on the dance floor with your friends. You're wearing a tight red top and flattering leather pants that make your ass look great, and he curses himself for staring too long.

You're just another pretty face, and there's plenty of those to go around. 

He pours the last of his whiskey down his throat, then allows himself one more glance at you and your friends. You're spinning in circles with one of your friends, laughing like you don't have a care in the world. You're decently attractive, sure, but probably just another airhead like the last woman he brought back to his apartment. 

Levi leaves that night, alone, brushing you off as just another face.

.

Your internship- a four month long paid opportunity in the office of a supply company- starts the next Monday, and you intend to make the best of your last 'free' weekend.

You go back to the same bar the next week on a whim. That maybe there's a prayer of a chance that you'll see that handsome stranger again. And this time, you wouldn't be with your friends: you'd be on the hunt to find someone to go home with. If not him, then maybe another attractive stranger.

To your delight, he's there. Even though he's got his back to you, you know it's him. Same hair, same posture, lifting a glass by holding the edge of it. He's wearing a dark grey shirt and black pants, and when he turns his head to look towards the dance floor, you see the same sharp jaw and thin lips that you had a hard time not staring at last time.

What had seemed like a good idea suddenly becomes more daunting. "Alcohol," you muse to yourself. Yes, definitely, if you were going to talk to him. You'd need all the liquid courage you could get.

You step towards the bar stools and take a seat two stools away from your mystery man. Close, but not direct. "What can I get ya, miss?" the bartender asks.

You order your favorite drink and then a shot of tequila. He brings them to you, and you take a sip from the larger glass before closing your fingers around the shot glass, ready to toss it into the back of your throat and get the taste over with.