Gotham Imagines and One Shots

Personal assistant - Part 3 - Butch x Reader

(Y/n) looked up at the clock on the wall. She hadn't realised that it was so late, that the rest of the office was now quiet. The personal assistant, getting up from her chair and straightening out her skirt, before grabbing her pad and pen, turning off the table light and then heading for her boss's door.

She had done her best to keep busy. To keep her mind off what Tabitha had said earlier that day. Choosing to concentrate on her work, on anything but her feelings for Butch Gilzean. But now, she had no choice, she had to go into his office and see why he wanted her to stay late. What else there was for them to work on. Not that she really minded, it was a nice thought that she would, for once, be really alone with him; no people coming to call, none of the goons and no Tabitha. Yet that didn't mean a tinge of warmth hadn't come to her cheeks, as she stood in front of the door. The words that the younger Galavan had said about her having a desire to have big, bad Butch bend her over his desk and show her a good time, making her heart race. The idea, the notion of him stood behind her, pushing up her skirt until everything was revealed; until she felt his hand rest against her backside, and he use his foot to kick her legs apart, making her insides flip. (Y/n) doing her best to calm her breathing, as she reached up and knocked on the door. The assistant straightening her clothes out again, before turning the handle and opening the door, as she heard the criminal call out for her to enter.

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Butch looked up, as he heard the knock on his office door. He hadn't realised that it had got that late; the kingpin choosing to bury himself in his work so that he could take his mind of (Y/n). He had tortured himself enough, earlier that day. Tormented himself with notions of holding her in his arms; of sweeping everything off his desk, so that he could sit her on it. So that he could gently push her backwards, his lips finding the soft skin of her neck, and then the even softer flesh of her bosom. The thought of ripping open her neatly pressed, pale shirt, of moving her underwear so that he could take her hardened nipples between his lips, as he let his fingers slowly make their way up the inside of her thigh, made the blood race through his veins. The crime boss forcing himself to focus on the paperwork on his desk. But now, he knew that he would have to face her. That they, for once, would really be alone. Butch taking a deep breath, doing his best to calm himself, before calling out for his assistant to come in. (Y/n) smiling, as she came through the door.

"Sir............" She began. Making her way over to the chair, as Butch pointed to it.

"Take a seat. I want you to take down a few things............" He told her. (Y/n) nodding, as she sat down.

"Of course, Sir.............." She replied, as she opened up her notebook, and prepared to take down whatever it was he dictated.

For a moment, Butch was lost. Sitting there and nothing coming out. In truth, there wasn't anything for her to do, this was just an excuse; and given that every time she called him 'Sir', all he could think about was her calling him that while they were in bed, his mind was even more lost than it might normally be.

"Is.........is everything alright, Mister Gilzean..........?" (Y/n) suddenly enquired. Her concerned tone shaking Butch from his thoughts.

"I..............do you like working for me..............?" Butch finally replied. The question causing (Y/n) to furrow her brows.

"Yes...........I..........I like working for you................"

"Why.............?" Butch countered, as he got up from his chair, and made his way around the desk. Taking a seat on the corner next to her.

"Well........the work is never boring..........I meet some........um. very interesting characters: and I find everything quite stimulating............." (Y/n) explained, as she placed her notebook on her lap. Not sure where all this had come from; not sure why he would ask, or if this meant that for some reason, she might just find herself without a job.

"And what about me..............?"

"You, Sir............?"

Butch enquired, as he turned to look at her. The personal assistant feeling her heart clench; her breath catching in her throat. Had Tabitha spoken to him? Had the younger Galavan told Butch what she suspected? That the personal assistant felt more for her boss than perhaps she should. And was he about to tell her that it was inappropriate? That he was her boss and she the employee, and that was all there was. Was all this so that he could inform her that there could be, and never would be anything between them, and that he thought it better that she should leave and not return? Well, she had to suppose that there was only one way to find out, and that was to tell him what she did think of him. (Y/n) once more doing her best to calm her nerves. Her head dropping as she thought about the best way to say such things.

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"Yes........what do you think of me........(Y/n)?" Butch asked. Quite surprised that he had been able to get out the words. That he had finally been able to ask the beautiful woman what he had wanted to ask for so long. His heart beginning to beat faster, as he watched her drop her head. The big man fearing that she was about to tell him that she thought nothing of him. That he was nothing to her but her boss. The she in fact found him old, ugly, dangerous. And the longer she seemed to hesitate, the more the awful thoughts multiplied in his head. Butch imagining all the worst scenarios, until he could take no more. The crime boss getting up from the corner of the desk, before dropping to his knees. Butch carefully reaching out and taking her chin in the palm of his hand. Gently raising her head so that she was looking into his eyes.

"Please, (Y/n). Tell me................"