#HELLO??? SIR???? HOLD MY HEAD DOWN????

[pucksandpower]

Stitched Together

mafia boss!Charles Leclerc x surgeon!Reader

Summary: helping a man in dire need of medical attention leads you down a road you never could have imagined

Warnings: this is a mafia romance so … yeah (gunshot wounds, drugging, kidnapping, and Mattia Binotto)

The quiet streets of Monaco glisten under the soft glow of streetlights as you make your way home from a work dinner. The night air carries a slight chill, and you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, your heels clicking rhythmically against the pavement.

Suddenly, a pained groan echoes from a nearby alley, stopping you in your tracks. Your instincts as a surgeon kick in, and you cautiously approach the shadowed passage.

“Hello?” You call out, peering into the darkness. “Is someone there?”

Another groan answers you, and as your eyes adjust, you spot a figure slumped against the wall. Rushing forward, you kneel beside the man, immediately noticing the dark stain spreading across his midsection.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, your training kicking in. “Sir, can you hear me? I’m a doctor. I’m going to call an ambulance.”

As you reach for your phone, a hand weakly grasps your wrist. “No ... no hospitals,” the man rasps, his voice strained.

You frown, conflicted. “Sir, you’re seriously injured. You need medical attention.”

“Can’t ... risk it,” he manages, his breathing labored.

Biting your lip, you consider your options. “Okay, what’s your name?”

“Charles,” he replies, grimacing as he shifts slightly.

“Alright, Charles,” you say, your voice calm and steady. “If you won’t go to a hospital, will you at least let me take you back to my apartment? I’m a surgeon and I can patch you up there.”

Charles hesitates, his piercing green eyes searching your face. After a moment, he nods. “Okay.”

With some effort, you manage to help Charles to his feet, supporting his weight as you slowly make your way out of the alley. “My place isn’t far,” you assure him. “Just hang on.”

The short walk feels like an eternity, but finally, you reach your apartment building. As you fumble with your keys, Charles leans heavily against the wall.

“Almost there,” you encourage, guiding him inside and into the elevator.

Once in your apartment, you lead Charles to your couch. “Lie down,” you instruct, already moving to gather supplies. “I need to assess the damage.”

Returning with your medical kit, you carefully cut away Charles’ blood-soaked shirt. The bullet wound is clearly visible, and you breathe a sigh of relief when you realize it’s not as severe as you initially feared.

“Good news,” you tell him, meeting his gaze. “The bullet seems to have missed any vital organs. I can clean and stitch this up, but you’ve lost a lot of blood. Are you sure I can’t convince you to go to a hospital?”

Charles shakes his head firmly. “No hospitals. Please.”

You nod, respecting his decision despite your reservations. “Alright. This is going to hurt, but I’ll do my best to be quick.”

As you work, Charles grits his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. “So,” he says, clearly trying to distract himself, “what’s a surgeon doing patching up strange men in her living room?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Honestly? I have no idea. I guess I just couldn’t leave you bleeding in that alley.”

“Most people would have just called the police,” Charles points out, hissing as you clean the wound.

“Well, I’m not most people,” you reply with a small smile. “And you seemed pretty adamant about avoiding official channels.”

Charles studies you for a moment. “You’re not going to ask why?”

You shrug, focusing on your work. “It’s not my place to pry. Though I have to admit, I am curious about what kind of trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

A wry smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Fair enough,” you concede. “Hold still, I’m about to start stitching.”

As you work, a comfortable silence falls between you. Charles watches you intently, his eyes never leaving your face.

“You’re good at this,” he comments after a while.

You smile, not looking up from your task. “I should hope so. I didn’t go through years of medical school for nothing.”

“How long have you been in Monaco?” Charles asks, seemingly genuinely interested.

“About three years now,” you reply. “I came here for a fellowship at the hospital and ended up staying.”

Charles nods. “Do you like it here?”

You consider the question as you finish the last stitch. “I do. It’s beautiful, and the work is challenging. But ...”

“But?” Charles prompts when you trail off.

Sighing, you begin applying a bandage. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels a bit ... lonely, I guess. It’s not always easy to connect with people here.”

Charles’ expression softens. “I can understand that. Monaco can be a difficult place to truly belong.”

You meet his gaze, surprised by the understanding in his eyes. “Exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I love my job and I’ve made some friends, but sometimes I miss the sense of community I had back home.”

“Where is home for you?” Charles asks.

“Originally? A small town that feels like a lifetime away from here,” you answer. “Nothing like Monaco, that’s for sure.”

Charles chuckles, then winces slightly. “I can imagine. It must have been quite the culture shock.”

You nod, smiling. “You have no idea. But enough about me. How are you feeling?”

“Better, thanks to you,” Charles replies, attempting to sit up.

You gently push him back down. “Not so fast. You need to rest and let that wound start healing.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Are you planning on keeping me hostage, doctor?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Hardly. But I’d feel better if you stayed put for at least a little while. Can I get you something to drink? Water? Tea?”

“Water would be great, thank you,” Charles says, settling back against the couch cushions.

As you move to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, you can’t help but glance back at your unexpected guest. There’s something intriguing about Charles, beyond his mysterious injury and resistance to seek official help.

Returning with the water, you hand it to Charles, who takes it gratefully. “Thank you,” he says, his fingers brushing against yours as he accepts the glass.

You sit in the armchair across from him, suddenly feeling a bit awkward. “So, Charles,” you begin, “what do you do when you’re not getting shot in dark alleys?”

Charles nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly before letting out a surprised laugh. “You certainly don’t pull any punches, do you?”

You shrug, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Well, you did say it was better if I didn’t know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be curious.”

Charles regards you with amusement. “Fair enough. Let’s just say I’m in ... business management.”

“Business management,” you repeat skeptically. “That must be some high-stakes business.”

“You have no idea,” Charles murmurs, his expression turning serious for a moment before he shakes it off. “But really, I’d much rather hear more about you. It’s not every day I meet a beautiful surgeon with a penchant for rescuing mysterious strangers.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his compliment. “There’s not much more to tell, really. I work, I occasionally have dinners with colleagues, and apparently, I moonlight as a back-alley doctor.”

Charles laughs, then winces, pressing a hand to his side. “Careful,” you warn, “You’ll pull your stitches.”

“Worth it,” Charles says with a grin. “You’re quite something, you know that?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help smiling. “You’re not so bad yourself, for a guy who got shot and refused proper medical care.”

“What can I say? I like to live dangerously,” Charles quips.

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Clearly. Though maybe you should consider a slightly less dangerous lifestyle. I can’t imagine getting shot is good for your long-term health.”

Charles’ expression turns thoughtful. “Maybe you’re right. Perhaps I’ve been due for a change.”

An unexpected wave of concern washes over you. “Charles, are you in some kind of trouble? Is there anything I can do to help?”

He looks at you, surprise and something else you can’t quite place flickering in his eyes. “You’ve already done more than enough. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly,” you say dryly, gesturing to his bandaged midsection.

Charles chuckles. “Point taken. But really, you’ve been incredibly kind. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Just promise me you’ll be more careful,” you say, surprised by the intensity of your own words.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression serious. “I promise.”

A moment of charged silence passes between you, broken only when Charles slowly pushes himself to his feet. “I should go,” he says, though he sounds reJoristant. “I’ve imposed on you enough.”

You stand as well, moving to steady him. “Are you sure? You’re welcome to stay and rest.”

Charles shakes his head. “Thank you, but I really should be going. I have some ... matters to attend to.”

You bite your lip, concerned. “Alright. But please, take it easy. And if you need anything — if that wound gives you any trouble — don’t hesitate to come back or call me.” You scribble your number on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

Charles takes the paper, his fingers lingering against yours. “Thank you,” he says softly. “For everything.”

As you walk him to the door, you find yourself wishing he would stay. There’s something about Charles that intrigues you, draws you in despite the obvious danger surrounding him.

At the threshold, Charles turns to you one last time. “I meant what I said earlier. You really are something special. I hope our paths cross again under ... better circumstances.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, with a final smile, he’s gone, leaving you standing in your doorway, your heart racing and your mind reeling.

As Charles exits the building, he immediately pulls out his phone, his expression hardening into one of intense focus. He dials a number, speaking in a low, authoritative tone the moment the call connects.

“It’s me. I need eyes on someone, 24/7. A surgeon named Y/N Y/L/N. She’s under my protection now. No one touches her, understood?”

He ends the call, casting one last glance at your apartment building before disappearing into the night, already planning when and how he’ll see you again.

***

The glittering lights of the Hotel de Paris’ ballroom cast a warm glow over the assembled guests. You smooth down your elegant evening gown, feeling slightly out of place among Monaco’s elite. The hospital’s annual benefit gala is always a grand affair, but tonight feels different, charged with an energy you can’t quite place.

“Y/N!” A is familiar voice calls out. You turn to see Dr. Sophia Moreau, one of your closest colleagues, approaching with two champagne flutes in hand. “You clean up nicely,” she teases, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a small sip. “Thanks, Sophia. You look amazing too. How’s the night been so far?”

Sophia shrugs, her eyes scanning the room. “Oh, you know, the usual schmoozing and small talk. But there’s a buzz going around. Apparently, the director has some big announcement planned.”

Your interest piques. “Really? Any idea what it’s about?”

“No clue,” Sophia replies. “But whatever it is, it’s got the board members practically giddy. And you know how rare that is.”

You chuckle, nodding in agreement. The hospital’s board is notoriously hard to please, a fact you know all too well from your years of lobbying for transplant certification.

As if summoned by your thoughts, Dr. Henri Beaumont, the hospital’s director, takes the stage. The room falls into a respectful hush as he taps the microphone.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Beaumont begins, his voice carrying across the ballroom. “Thank you all for joining us tonight in support of our wonderful hospital. Your generosity never ceases to amaze me.”

You listen politely, expecting the usual platitudes. But as Dr. Beaumont continues, you feel your heart begin to race.

“Tonight, I have the great pleasure of announcing a new chapter in our hospital’s history,” he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Thanks to an incredibly generous donation from one of Monaco’s own, we will be embarking on a project that will revolutionize healthcare in our principality.”

You grip your champagne flute tighter, hardly daring to hope.

“Within the year, our hospital will become fully transplant certified,” Dr. Beaumont announces, his words met with a wave of gasps and excited murmurs. “And that’s not all. This donation will also fund a dedicated medical helicopter, allowing us to transport organs and critical patients with unprecedented speed.”

The room erupts in applause, but you barely hear it over the pounding of your own heart. After years of fighting, of presenting proposal after proposal, it’s finally happening.

“None of this would be possible without the extraordinary generosity of our donor,” Dr. Beaumont continues once the applause dies down. “Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in thanking Mr. Charles Leclerc!”

As the room once again breaks into enthusiastic applause, a figure rises from one of the front tables. Your breath catches in your throat as you recognize the man turning to face the crowd.

It’s him. The mysterious Charles from the alley, the man whose life you saved. He looks completely different now — impeccably dressed in a tailored tuxedo, his presence commanding the room’s attention. But those piercing green eyes are unmistakable.

“Y/N?” Sophia’s voice breaks through your shock. “Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You blink, tearing your gaze away from Charles to look at your friend. “I ... yes, I’m fine. Just surprised, that’s all.”

Sophia raises an eyebrow. “I’ll say. This is everything you’ve been working towards. You must be thrilled!”

“I am,” you assure her, your mind still reeling. “It’s just ... a lot to take in.”

As the applause dies down and the crowd begins to disperse, you find your eyes drawn back to Charles. He’s engaged in conversation with Dr. Beaumont and several board members, but as if sensing your gaze, he looks up. Your eyes meet across the room, and a slow smile spreads across his face.

“Excuse me,” you murmur to Sophia, setting down your champagne flute. “There’s someone I need to speak with.”

You make your way through the crowd, your heart pounding with each step. As you approach, Charles politely excuses himself from his conversation and turns to face you.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you, his voice warm. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“Mr. Leclerc,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Charles’ smile widens. “I’m full of surprises. Though I believe you already knew that.”

You glance around, noticing the curious looks from nearby guests. “Could we speak privately?”

“Of course,” Charles says, gesturing towards a secluded balcony. “Shall we?”

You follow him out onto the balcony, the cool night air a welcome respite from the crowded ballroom. For a moment, you both stand in silence, looking out over the twinkling lights of Monaco.

“So,” you finally say, turning to face him. “Charles Leclerc. I’m guessing that’s not the name you usually give to people who find you bleeding in alleys.”

Charles chuckles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not. But it is my real name.”

“And you’re ... what? A millionaire philanthropist?”

“Among other things,” Charles replies enigmatically.

You cross your arms, studying him. “Why didn’t you tell me who you were that night?”

Charles leans against the balcony railing, his expression turning serious. “Would you have believed me if I had? A man refusing hospital treatment, claiming to be a wealthy businessman?”

You have to admit he has a point. “I suppose not. But this ...” you gesture back towards the ballroom, “This is incredible. The transplant certification, the helicopter ... it’s everything I’ve been fighting for.”

“I know,” Charles says softly.

You blink, surprised. “You know?”

Charles nods. “After that night, I ... may have done some research. I was curious about the remarkable surgeon who saved my life without asking questions or for anything in return.”

“So this donation,” you say slowly, “it’s because of me?”

“In part,” Charles admits. “Your passion for your work, your dedication to improving healthcare here — it’s inspiring. But more than that, I saw an opportunity to do some real good. To maybe balance the scales a bit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Balance the scales? What exactly is it that you do, Charles?”

He gives you a rueful smile. “Let’s just say my business dealings aren’t always as philanthropic as tonight’s donation might suggest.”

A chill runs down your spine as the pieces start to fall into place. The gunshot wound, the refusal of hospitals, the mysterious “business management” — it all points to one conclusion.

“You’re not just a businessman, are you?” You ask quietly.

Charles holds your gaze, his expression unreadable. “No, I’m not. Are you sure you want to know more?”

You take a deep breath, considering. Part of you wants to walk away, to pretend this conversation never happened. But a larger part — the part that couldn’t leave a bleeding man in an alley, the part that’s drawn to the mystery and danger Charles represents — wants to stay.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “I want to know.”

Charles nods, respect flickering in his eyes. “Very well. But not here. This isn’t a conversation for a crowded gala.”

“Then where?” You ask.

“Have dinner with me,” Charles suggests. “Tomorrow night. I’ll answer all your questions, I promise.”

You hesitate, weighing the risks. But the memory of that night in your apartment, the connection you felt with Charles despite the strange circumstances, makes your decision for you.

“Alright,” you agree. “Dinner tomorrow.”

Charles smiles, relief evident in his features. “Thank you. I’ll send a car for you at eight.”

Just then, the balcony doors open, and Dr. Beaumont steps out. “Ah, there you are, Mr. Leclerc! And Dr. Y/L/N, how wonderful. I was hoping to speak with both of you.”

You plaster on a polite smile, trying to hide your frustration at the interruption. “Dr. Beaumont, good evening.”

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” Dr. Beaumont says, looking between you and Charles.

“Not at all,” Charles replies smoothly. “Dr. Y/L/N was just expressing her excitement about the transplant certification project.”

Dr. Beaumont beams. “Yes, isn’t it marvelous? And it’s all thanks to your generous donation, Mr. Leclerc. We can’t thank you enough.”

“Please,” Charles says, “call me Charles. And the thanks should really go to Dr. Y/L/N here. Her proposals and persistence were what brought this need to my attention.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Well, Dr. Y/L/N, it seems we owe you a debt of gratitude as well. Your dedication to this cause has clearly paid off.”

“Thank you, Dr. Beaumont,” you manage, still reeling from Charles’ praise. “I’m just glad we’ll finally be able to offer these life-saving services to our patients.”

“Indeed,” Dr. Beaumont agrees. “In fact, I’d like to discuss the possibility of you heading up the new transplant department. Your expertise would be invaluable in getting the program off the ground.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “I ... I would be honored, sir. Thank you.”

“Excellent!” Dr. Beaumont claps his hands together. “We’ll set up a meeting next week to discuss the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to mingle with our other donors. Charles, Dr. Y/L/N, enjoy your evening.”

As Dr. Beaumont retreats back into the ballroom, you turn to Charles, still stunned. “Did you have something to do with that offer?”

Charles holds up his hands innocently. “I merely suggested to Dr. Beaumont that the project would benefit from your leadership. The decision was entirely his.”

You shake your head, a mixture of gratitude and confusion swirling inside you. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

“Then don’t say it,” Charles replies softly. “Just promise me you’ll use this opportunity to do what you do best — save lives.”

You nod, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the events of the evening. “I should probably get back inside,” you say reluctantly. “People will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “I look forward to our dinner tomorrow. There’s much we need to discuss.”

As you turn to leave, Charles gently catches your hand. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low. “Whatever you learn tomorrow, whatever you decide ... know that my feelings for you are genuine. That night in your apartment, it ... it changed things for me.”

You feel a flutter in your chest at his words. “It changed things for me too,” you admit softly.

Charles brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, then.”

As you make your way back into the ballroom, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and questions. You spot Sophia across the room, waving you over with a curious expression.

“Spill,” she demands as soon as you reach her. “What was that all about? How do you know Charles Leclerc?”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain the inexplicable situation you’ve found yourself in.

“It’s ... complicated,” you finally say. “And I think I’m about to find out just how complicated it is.”

***

As the sun sets over Monaco, casting a golden glow across the city, you find yourself standing in front of your apartment building, nervously smoothing down your dress. The sleek Rolls Royce that Charles promised pulls up, and a uniformed driver steps out to open the door for you.

“Good evening, Dr. Y/L/N,” he greets you politely. “Mr. Leclerc is expecting you.”

You slide into the plush leather seat, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive through Monaco’s winding streets is brief but gives you time to collect your thoughts. Before you know it, the car is pulling up to Le Louis XV, arguably the most exclusive restaurant in all of Monaco.

As you step out of the car, you spot Charles waiting for you at the entrance. He’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his presence commanding even among the elite clientele entering the restaurant.

“Y/N,” he greets you warmly, taking your hand and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “Thank you, Charles. You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckles, offering you his arm. “Shall we?”

As you enter the restaurant, you’re immediately struck by the opulence of the decor. Crystal chandeliers hang from intricately painted ceilings, and the soft strains of a string quartet fill the air.

The maître d’ greets Charles by name, leading you to a secluded table tucked away in a corner. Charles pulls out your chair for you before taking his own seat across from you.

A waiter approaches, offering you menus. As he leans over to pour water into your glasses, you notice his gaze lingering a bit too long on your neckline. Before you can react, Charles clears his throat sharply.

“I think we’ll need a different server,” he says, his voice cold and authoritative. The waiter pales, stammering an apology before hurrying away.

You raise an eyebrow at Charles. “That was ... intense.”

Charles’ expression softens as he looks at you. “I apologize if that made you uncomfortable. I simply don’t tolerate disrespect, especially towards someone I care about.”

His words send a flutter through your chest, but you push it aside, reminding yourself why you’re here. “So,” you say, meeting his gaze, “you promised me answers.”

Charles nods, his expression turning serious. “Indeed I did. But first, let’s order. This conversation may take a while.”

Once you’ve placed your orders and the new, much more professional waiter has poured your wine, Charles leans back in his chair, studying you intently.

“What do you know about the Monegasque underworld, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

You shake your head. “Not much, honestly. I know it exists, of course, but it’s not exactly something we discuss in the hospital break room.”

A small smile tugs at Charles’ lips. “No, I suppose not. Well, to put it bluntly, I am what you might call the boss of the Monegasque Mafia.”

Despite your suspicions, hearing him say it so plainly sends a shock through you. “The Mafia? Charles, that’s ...”

“Illegal? Dangerous? Morally questionable?” He finishes for you, his tone wry. “Yes, it’s all of those things.”

You take a sip of your wine, trying to process this information. “How did you end up in that position?”

Charles sighs, his eyes distant. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I inherited the role from my father. He built this empire, and when he died, it fell to me to maintain it.”

“And the gunshot wound?” You ask, remembering the night you first met.

“A disagreement with a rival organization,” Charles explains. “It’s been dealt with.”

You feel a chill at the implication in his words. “Dealt with how?”

Charles meets your gaze steadily. “Do you really want to know?”

After a moment’s hesitation, you shake your head. “No, I don’t think I do.”

“Smart,” Charles says approvingly. “The less you know about certain aspects of my business, the safer you’ll be.”

The waiter returns with your appetizers, providing a brief respite from the heavy conversation. As you start to eat, you find your mind whirling with questions.

“Why are you telling me all this?” You finally ask. “Isn’t it dangerous for you to reveal your identity?”

Charles nods slowly. “It is. But I trust you, Y/N. That night in your apartment, when you helped me without question, without judgment — it showed me what kind of person you are. And I find myself ... unwilling to lie to you.”

His honesty touches you, despite the circumstances. “I appreciate that, Charles. But where does this leave us? What happens now?”

Charles leans forward, his eyes intense. “That depends on you. I won’t lie — being associated with me comes with risks. But it also comes with benefits, as you’ve seen with the hospital donation.”

“Is that what this is about?” You ask, a hint of disappointment creeping into your voice. “You’re trying to buy my loyalty?”

“No,” Charles says firmly. “The donation was genuine. Your passion inspired me to do some good. This ... this is something else entirely.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I have a proposition for you. I’d like you to work for me, as my personal doctor when the need arises.”

You blink in surprise. “Your personal doctor? But I’m a surgeon, not a general practitioner.”

“Exactly,” Charles nods. “In my line of work, emergency surgical skills are more valuable than routine check-ups. You’d be on call for me and my ... associates when medical attention is needed discreetly.”

You sit back, considering his words. “That sounds an awful lot like being a mob doctor, Charles.”

He doesn’t deny it. “It is. But it would also give you the opportunity to save lives that might otherwise be lost. And I can promise you, the compensation would be ... substantial.”

The waiter returns to clear your plates and bring the main course, giving you a moment to gather your thoughts. As you cut into your perfectly cooked steak, you mull over Charles’ offer.

“What about my work at the hospital?” You ask. “I can’t just abandon that, especially not now that we’re getting the transplant certification.”

Charles shakes his head. “I wouldn’t ask you to. This would be in addition to your regular work, called upon only when necessary. Your hospital duties would always come first.”

You take a sip of wine, studying Charles over the rim of your glass. “And what if I refuse? What happens then?”

“Then you walk out of here, go back to your life, and we never speak of this again,” Charles says simply. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I trust you. If you choose not to be involved, I know you’ll keep my secret.”

His sincerity is clear, and you find yourself believing him. “Can I ask you something, Charles?”

“Anything,” he replies.

“Why me? Surely there are other doctors you could approach, ones with more ... flexible ethics, perhaps?”

Charles’ expression softens. “Because you’re extraordinary, Y/N. Your skill, your compassion, your integrity — they’re rare qualities, especially in my world. And selfishly, perhaps, I want to keep you in my life.”

His words send a warmth spreading through your chest, and you find yourself at a crossroads. On one hand, everything you know tells you to walk away, to keep your life simple and safe. But on the other ...

“What would it entail, exactly?” You ask, surprising yourself.

A glimmer of hope appears in Charles’ eyes. “Primarily, it would involve treating injuries that can’t be taken to a hospital — gunshot wounds, knife punctures, that sort of thing. Occasionally, there might be a need for more ... specialized care.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Specialized how?”

“Let’s just say that sometimes, information needs to be obtained through methods that aren’t entirely ... ethical,” Charles says carefully.

You feel a chill run down your spine. “You mean torture.”

Charles doesn’t flinch from the word. “Yes. Your role would be to ensure that lines aren’t crossed, that no permanent damage is done. To save lives, even in the darkest of circumstances.”

You take a deep breath, trying to reconcile the charming man across from you with the brutal world he’s describing. “I don’t know if I can do that, Charles. It goes against everything I believe in as a doctor.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know. And I wouldn’t ask you to participate directly. Your job would be to mitigate harm, to heal. Nothing more.”

As the waiter clears your plates and offers dessert menus, you find yourself at a loss for words. Charles watches you carefully, giving you space to process.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says gently. “Take some time to think about it. Weigh the pros and cons. I know it’s not an easy decision.”

You nod, grateful for the reprieve. “Thank you. I ... I will think about it.”

As you share a decadent chocolate dessert, the conversation shifts to lighter topics. Charles tells you about his childhood in Monaco, and you share stories from your medical school days. Despite the heavy subject matter earlier, you find yourself laughing and enjoying Charles’ company.

All too soon, the evening draws to a close. Charles insists on walking you out, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you exit the restaurant.

As you wait for the valet to bring his car around, Charles turns to face you, his expression serious once more.

“Thank you for hearing me out tonight, Y/N,” he says softly. “Whatever you decide, know that I meant every word. You’re an extraordinary woman, and I’m honored to know you.”

Before you can respond, Charles leans in, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth in a kiss that’s both chaste and charged with potential. You feel your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing at his proximity.

As he pulls back, Charles meets your gaze, his green eyes intense. “Think about my offer. And when you’ve made your decision, good or bad, call me.”

With that, he steps back, leaving you feeling slightly dazed as the valet pulls up with his car. Charles opens the passenger door for you, ever the gentleman.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says softly. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

As the car pulls away from the curb, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions and conflicting thoughts. You touch your fingers to the spot where Charles kissed you, still feeling the ghost of his lips.

Part of you knows you should run as far and fast as you can from Charles Leclerc and the dangerous world he inhabits. But a larger part – the part that yearns for excitement, for purpose beyond the hospital walls – is already considering his offer.

As Monaco’s glittering lights pass by outside the car window, you realize that no matter what you decide, your life will never be the same. The question is, are you ready to take the leap into the unknown?

With Charles’ business card burning a hole in your purse and the memory of his kiss lingering on your skin, you know that the decision you make will shape not just your future, but potentially the future of Monaco itself.

***

The shrill ring of your phone pierces the quiet of your bedroom, jolting you awake. Fumbling in the darkness, you grab your phone, squinting at the bright screen. Unknown number.

Your heart races as you answer, “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Charles’ voice comes through, tense and urgent. “I’m sorry to wake you.”

Sitting up, suddenly alert, you reply, “Charles? What’s wrong?”

There’s a brief pause before he continues, “I wish I could give you more time to consider my offer, but I’m afraid circumstances have forced my hand. One of my associates is badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

You can hear the strain in his voice as he continues, “If you’re willing to accept my offer, I’ll have someone pick you up right now. If not, I understand, and I’ll look for help elsewhere. But I need to know your decision now.”

Your mind races, weighing the implications. This is it — the moment of truth. Do you step into Charles’ world or walk away?

Taking a deep breath, you make your choice. “I’ll do it. Send the car.”

You can almost hear Charles’ relief through the phone. “Thank you, Y/N. A car will be there in five minutes. Be ready.”

The line goes dead, and you spring into action. Throwing on clothes and grabbing a bag with some basic medical supplies, you’re waiting outside your building when a sleek black car pulls up.

The drive is tense and silent. The driver, a stern-faced man, offers no conversation as he speeds through Monaco’s empty streets. Within minutes, you’re pulling up to an expansive, gated compound.

As soon as the car stops, the front door of the mansion flies open. Charles strides out, his face etched with worry.

“Y/N,” he greets you, guiding you quickly inside. “Thank you for coming. Follow me.”

You hurry after him through opulent hallways, your mind struggling to take in the surroundings. “What happened, Charles? Who’s hurt?”

“My right-hand man, Pierre,” Charles explains as he leads you down a staircase. “He was ambushed leaving a meeting. Took a bullet to the chest.”

You nod, your mind already racing through possibilities. “How long ago?”

“About an hour,” Charles replies, pushing open a door.

You step into what appears to be a fully-equipped operating room. On the table lies a man, his breathing labored and shirt soaked with blood.

Rushing to his side, you begin your examination. “Pierre? I’m Dr. Y/L/N. Can you hear me?”

Pierre’s eyes flutter open, filled with pain. “Y-yes,” he manages to wheeze.

You turn to Charles, who’s hovering nearby. “I need to examine him properly. Can you help me remove his shirt?”

As you and Charles carefully cut away Pierre’s bloodied shirt, you assess the wound. The bullet hole is below his right collarbone, and his breathing is increasingly strained.

“The bullet’s punctured his lung,” you announce, your mind already formulating a plan. “He needs surgery immediately. Charles, I’ll need assistance. Are you up for it?”

Charles nods without hesitation. “Tell me what to do.”

You quickly outline the procedure as you prep Pierre for surgery. “We need to reinflate his lung and remove the bullet. It’s going to be tricky, but we don’t have time to get him to a hospital.”

As you work, you fall into a focused rhythm, your years of training taking over. Charles proves to be a capable assistant, following your instructions precisely.

“Suction here,” you direct, carefully navigating the delicate lung tissue. “Good. Now hold this retractor steady.”

Hours pass in a blur of intense concentration. Finally, you step back, exhaling deeply. “I think we’ve done it. The lung’s reinflated and the bullet’s out. He’s not out of the woods yet, but his chances are good.”

Charles looks at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude. “Y/N, I ... thank you. You’ve saved his life.”

You nod, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion. “He’ll need close monitoring for the next 24 hours. Is there somewhere I can clean up?”

Charles leads you to an adjacent bathroom, where you wash the blood from your skin. As you emerge, you find Charles waiting, two glasses of whiskey in hand.

“I thought you might need this,” he says, offering you a glass.

You accept it gratefully, taking a long sip. The alcohol burns pleasantly, helping to calm your frayed nerves.

“So,” you say, meeting Charles’ gaze. “I guess this makes it official. I’m your doctor now.”

Charles nods solemnly. “Indeed. And I can’t express how grateful I am. Not just for tonight, but for taking this risk.”

You lean against the wall, suddenly feeling the weight of your decision. “I still have questions, Charles. About all of this. About what I’m getting myself into.”

“Of course,” Charles agrees. “Ask me anything. You deserve to know what you’re part of now.”

Taking a deep breath, you begin, “How often can I expect nights like this? And what exactly is the nature of your ... business?”

Charles considers his words carefully. “Nights like this are, thankfully, rare. Most of what I’ll need from you will be more routine — treating minor injuries, regular check-ups for my key people. As for my business ...” He pauses, taking a sip of his whiskey. “It’s complex. We have interests in various sectors — some legitimate, some less so. Gambling, real estate, import and export. And yes, sometimes that involves activities that aren’t entirely legal.”

You nod slowly, processing this information. “And the violence? The rivalries that led to Pierre getting shot?”

“An unfortunate reality of our world,” Charles admits. “We try to minimize it, but conflicts do arise. My goal is always to resolve things peacefully, but sometimes ...” He gestures towards the operating room, where Pierre lies recovering.

“I see,” you murmur. “And my role in all this? Beyond providing medical care, I mean.”

Charles’ expression softens. “Your role, Y/N, is to be a light in this sometimes dark world. To save lives, to minimize harm. And perhaps ... to remind people like me that there’s good in the world worth protecting.”

His words touch something deep inside you, and you find yourself nodding. “I think I can do that.”

A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only when a monitor in the operating room beeps. You both rush to check on Pierre, finding his vitals stable.

As you adjust his IV, you ask, “So, what happens now? Do I just ... go home and wait for the next emergency call?”

Charles shakes his head. “Not quite. I’d like you to stay here for the next day or so, to monitor Pierre’s recovery. After that, we’ll set up a more formal arrangement. You’ll have a secure phone for communications and a driver on call for when you’re needed.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And my regular job at the hospital?”

“Remains your priority,” Charles assures you. “This work will always come second to that. I don’t want to jeopardize your career or the good you do there.”

Relieved, you nod. “Alright. And ... us? Where do we stand?”

Charles steps closer, his eyes intense. “That is entirely up to you. My feelings haven’t changed since our dinner. But I understand if this is too much, too complicated.”

You find yourself drawn to him, despite the rational part of your brain screaming caution. “It is complicated. But ... I can’t deny there’s something here. Something worth exploring.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, genuine and warm. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll take it slow, see where this leads us.”

Just then, Pierre stirs on the operating table, groaning softly. You both move to his side, your instincts taking over once again.

“Pierre?” You call softly. “Can you hear me?”

His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first but then settling on you. “Who ... where am I?”

Charles steps into his line of sight. “You’re safe, my friend. This is Dr. Y/L/N. She saved your life tonight.”

Pierre’s eyes widen in recognition. “The surgeon ... from the alley. You recruited her?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “It’s a long story. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” Pierre croaks, attempting a weak smile.

You check his vitals as you explain, “The bullet punctured your lung. We’ve repaired the damage, but you’re going to need time to recover. No strenuous activity for at least a month.”

Pierre nods, then looks to Charles. “The meeting ... did we get the information?”

Charles places a hand on Pierre’s shoulder. “We did, thanks to you. But don’t worry about that now. Focus on getting better.”

As Pierre drifts back to sleep, you turn to Charles. “He needs rest. And so do we, for that matter.”

Charles nods in agreement. “I’ll show you to a guest room. We should both try to get some sleep before morning.”

As you follow Charles through the mansion, the events of the night start to catch up with you. By the time you reach the luxurious guest suite, you’re practically swaying on your feet.

“Get some rest,” Charles says softly. “I’ll have some fresh clothes brought for you in the morning.”

As he turns to leave, you catch his hand. “Charles ... thank you. For trusting me with this.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “No, Y/N. Thank you for taking this leap of faith. Sleep well.”

As the door closes behind him, you sink onto the plush bed, your mind whirling with the night’s events. You’ve crossed a line tonight, stepped into a world you never imagined being part of. But as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

For better or worse, your life will never be the same again.

***

As the weeks pass following that fateful night, you begin to notice subtle yet undeniable changes in your daily life. It starts with a prickling sensation at the back of your neck, a feeling of being watched that you can’t quite shake. At first, you dismiss it as paranoia, a natural reaction to your new connection with Charles’ world. But then you start to catch glimpses — a man in a dark suit lingering across the street from your apartment, a familiar face that seems to pop up wherever you go.

One morning, as you’re grabbing coffee before work, you decide to confront the situation. Turning abruptly, you lock eyes with a tall, broad-shouldered man who’s been tailing you for the past few blocks.

“Alright,” you say, crossing your arms. “Who are you and why are you following me?”

The man looks momentarily surprised before his face settles into a neutral expression. “Mr. Leclerc assigned me to ensure your safety, Dr. Y/L/N. I’m not meant to interfere with your daily life.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And does Charles think I need a bodyguard to get my morning coffee?”

The man — you decide to call him Shadow in your head — gives a small shrug. “Mr. Leclerc believes in being thorough. I’m here to protect you from any potential threats.”

Sighing, you shake your head. “Fine. But can you at least try to be a little less ... obvious? I don’t need my colleagues at the hospital getting suspicious.”

Shadow nods. “Of course. I’ll maintain a more discreet distance.”

As you continue your walk to the hospital, you can’t help but feel a mix of irritation and a strange sort of warmth at Charles’ protective instincts.

The surprises don’t stop there. Later that week, you return home from a long shift to find a large, elegantly wrapped package outside your door. Curious, you bring it inside and carefully open it.

Inside, you find a stunning designer handbag — one you vaguely remember admiring in a shop window weeks ago. Attached is a simple note:

A beautiful bag for a beautiful doctor – CL

You can’t help but smile, even as you shake your head at the extravagance. Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to Charles.

The bag is gorgeous, but you really didn’t have to.

His reply comes moments later.

I wanted to.

Is it not to your liking?

You chuckle, typing back.

It’s perfect. But you don’t need to shower me with gifts.

Perhaps not. But I enjoy it. Allow me this small pleasure?

Rolling your eyes fondly, you respond.

Fine. But nothing too outrageous, okay?

You can almost hear his chuckle in his reply.

I make no promises.

True to his word, the gifts keep coming. A rare first edition of your favorite medical text. A pair of ridiculously comfortable designer shoes that somehow fit perfectly. Each accompanied by a note signed simply “CL”.

But it’s not just the material things that change. One day, as you’re buried in paperwork at the hospital, a delicious aroma wafts into your office. You look up to see your colleague standing in the doorway with a bag from your favorite local restaurant.

“Special delivery,” Sophia says with a grin, setting the bag on your desk.

You blink in surprise. “I didn’t order anything.”

Her grin widens. “No, but apparently you have a very thoughtful admirer. This has been showing up every day for the past week. The nurses have been taking turns bringing it up.”

Your cheeks flush as you open the bag, finding a perfectly prepared lunch and another note from Charles.

Sophia leans in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “So, who’s the mystery man? Anyone I know?”

You quickly tuck the note away. “It’s ... complicated. We’re still figuring things out.”

“Uh-huh,” Sophia says, clearly not buying it. “Well, whoever he is, he’s got good taste. In food and women.”

As Sophia leaves, you can’t help but smile. Despite the complexity of your situation with Charles, these small gestures warm your heart.

The changes extend beyond gifts and food, though. You start to notice that things at the hospital seem to be running more smoothly. Bureaucratic hurdles that used to take weeks to clear now resolve themselves in days. Equipment requests that were once denied due to budget constraints are suddenly approved.

One afternoon, you’re in a meeting with Dr. Beaumont, discussing the progress of the new transplant center.

“I must say, Dr. Y/L/N,” Beaumont says, beaming, “the speed at which we’re moving forward is remarkable. It’s as if all the red tape has simply ... vanished.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, suspecting Charles’ influence but unable to confirm it. “Yes, it’s ... quite fortunate.”

Beaumont leans in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think our generous donor, Mr. Leclerc, might have something to do with it. He seems to have friends in high places.”

You force a neutral expression. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

Beaumont chuckles. “Let’s just say that certain government officials who were dragging their feet on approvals suddenly became very cooperative after a few calls from Mr. Leclerc’s office. But you didn’t hear that from me.”

As you leave the meeting, your mind is whirling. You appreciate the help, but the extent of Charles’ influence is starting to sink in. That evening, you decide it’s time for a face-to-face conversation.

You send Charles a text.

We need to talk. Dinner tonight?

His reply is almost immediate.

Of course. I’ll send a car. 8 PM?

At eight sharp, you find yourself being ushered into an exclusive rooftop restaurant. Charles is waiting, looking as handsome and composed as ever in a perfectly tailored suit.

He stands as you approach, pulling out your chair. “Y/N, you look lovely.”

You sit, fixing him with a serious look. “Charles, we need to discuss a few things.”

His expression turns concerned. “Is everything alright?”

Taking a deep breath, you begin. “The bodyguard, the gifts, the lunch deliveries ... it’s all very sweet, but it’s a bit much. And the thing with the hospital — are you pulling strings to make things happen?”

Charles listens intently, his face unreadable. When you finish, he leans back, considering his words carefully.

“I apologize if I’ve overstepped,” he says finally. “The protection is non-negotiable, I’m afraid. Your safety is paramount to me. But if the gifts make you uncomfortable, I can scale them back.”

You nod, relieved he’s listening. “And the hospital situation?”

Charles sighs. “I may have ... encouraged certain officials to be more cooperative. But I assure you, it was all above board. No bribes, no threats. Just a gentle reminder of how beneficial the new transplant center will be for Monaco.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “Gentle reminder, huh? And I suppose your reputation had nothing to do with it?”

A small smirk plays at the corner of Charles’ mouth. “I may have a certain ... influence. But I used it for a good cause. The transplant center will save lives, Y/N. Isn’t that what matters?”

You shake your head, but you’re smiling. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles reaches across the table, taking your hand. “I know my world is very different from yours, Y/N. I’m trying to bridge that gap, to make things easier for you. But if I’m going about it the wrong way, tell me. I want you to be comfortable with this ... with us.”

The sincerity in his eyes touches you. “I appreciate that, Charles. I do. I just ... I need to feel like I’m still in control of my own life, you know? Like I’m not just being swept along in your wake.”

Charles nods, squeezing your hand gently. “I understand. From now on, I’ll consult you before making any decisions that affect your life. No more surprises. Well, fewer surprises, at least.”

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate. “I suppose I can live with that. But maybe we can compromise on the bodyguard situation? I don’t need a shadow 24/7.”

“How about this,” Charles proposes, “The security detail maintains a distance unless you’re entering or leaving your apartment or the hospital. They’ll be there if you need them, but not constantly in your space. Would that work?”

You consider for a moment, then nod. “I can live with that. Thank you for listening.”

He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Always, Y/N. Your happiness and comfort are important to me.”

As the waiter approaches to take your order, you find yourself relaxing, enjoying the evening with Charles. The conversation flows easily, touching on your work at the hospital, Charles’ legitimate business ventures, and your shared love of classical music.

By the time dessert arrives, you’re feeling more at ease with the situation than you have in weeks.

“Charles,” you say, savoring a spoonful of soufflé, “I have to ask. How did you know about the handbag? The one I admired weeks ago?”

A mischievous glint appears in Charles’ eyes. “I have my ways. Let’s just say I pay attention to the things that catch your eye.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees with a smile. “But admit it, you’re starting to enjoy it.”

As you leave the restaurant, Charles’ hand resting lightly on the small of your back, you realize that he’s right. Despite the complexity, despite the lingering concerns about his world, you are enjoying this. Enjoying him.

Charles walks you to the waiting car, opening the door for you. Before you get in, he catches your hand, his expression turning serious.

“Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that I treasure what’s growing between us. I know my world is complicated, often dangerous. But with you ... I see a possibility for something real, something good. I hope you can be patient with me as we navigate this.”

Touched by his honesty, you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m here, aren’t I? We’ll figure it out together.”

As the car pulls away, Charles watching from the curb, you lean back in your seat, a small smile playing on your lips. Your life has certainly become more complicated since that night in the alley. But as you reflect on the past few weeks — the challenges, the surprises, the growing connection with Charles — you can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement about what the future might hold.

***

The cool evening air greets you as you exit the hospital, your shift finally over. You roll your shoulders, easing the tension from a long day of surgeries. As you walk towards your car, your mind drifts to Charles, wondering if he’ll be free for a late dinner.

Suddenly, a sharp prick in your neck startles you. Before you can react, a wave of dizziness washes over you. The world tilts, your vision blurring. You try to call out, but your voice fails you. As darkness encroaches, your last conscious thought is of Charles.

When you come to, it’s to a pounding headache and disorientation. You blink, trying to focus. The room is dimly lit, cold, with bare concrete walls. As awareness creeps back, you realize you’re strapped to a chair, your wrists and ankles bound tightly.

Panic rises in your throat, but you force it down, trying to assess the situation. You’re still in your scrubs, which means you haven’t been unconscious for too long. There are no windows, no indication of where you might be.

The creak of a door opening snaps your attention forward. A man enters — relatively tall, curly-haired, with a scar running down the left side of his face. His eyes, when they meet yours, are cold and calculating.

“Ah, Dr. Y/L/N,” he says, his voice carrying a slight Italian accent. “So good of you to join us. I hope you’re comfortable.”

You glare at him, finding your voice. “Who are you? What do you want?”

The man chuckles, pulling up a chair to sit across from you. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Mattia Binotto. And as for what I want ...” He leans in, his gaze intense. “I want Charles Leclerc.”

Your heart races, but you keep your expression neutral. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mattia’s laugh is harsh. “Come now, Doctor. Let’s not play games. I know all about your ... relationship with Charles. I’ve been watching you both for quite some time.”

“Why?” You demand, tugging futilely at your restraints. “What does Charles have to do with this?”

Mattia leans back, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Everything, my dear. You see, I used to work for Charles’ father. I was his right-hand man, his most trusted advisor. And how did the old man repay my loyalty? By kicking me out, exiling me from Monaco.”

You listen, your mind racing. Charles had mentioned conflicts within the organization, but this ... this was something else entirely.

“So this is about revenge?” You ask, trying to keep him talking.

Mattia’s eyes flash dangerously. “Revenge, yes. But also reclamation. What was taken from me, I intend to take back. And you, my dear doctor, are the perfect bait.”

Fear claws at your insides, but you push it down, channeling it into anger instead. “Charles won’t fall for this. He’s smarter than that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on his intelligence,” Mattia says, standing up and beginning to pace. “You see, Charles knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of. He’ll come for you, make no mistake. And when he does ...” Mattia’s smile is chilling. “Well, let’s just say I have quite the reunion planned.”

You struggle against your bonds, your mind whirling. “You’re insane if you think you can take on Charles and his entire organization.”

Mattia stops pacing, turning to face you. “Insane? No, Doctor. Prepared. I’ve spent years planning this, gathering allies, waiting for the perfect moment. And you ...” He reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. You jerk away from his touch. “You are the key to it all.”

“Don’t touch me,” you snarl, glaring up at him.

Mattia chuckles. “Feisty. I can see why Charles is so taken with you. It will make breaking you all the more satisfying.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. “If you hurt me, Charles will-”

“Charles will what?” Mattia interrupts, his voice mocking. “Come charging in to save you? That’s exactly what I’m counting on, my dear.”

You fall silent, realizing that every word you say is potentially giving Mattia more ammunition. Instead, you focus on studying your surroundings, looking for any potential way out.

Mattia seems to sense your shift in focus. He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. “Don’t bother looking for escape routes. This room was designed to hold people far more dangerous than you. You’re not going anywhere until Charles arrives.”

Pulling back, he checks his watch. “Speaking of which, I imagine he’s discovered your absence by now. Shall we give him a call?”

Your eyes widen as Mattia pulls out a phone — your phone. He scrolls through your contacts, finding Charles’ number.

“No, don’t-” you start, but Mattia silences you with a sharp look.

He puts the phone on speaker as it rings. After two rings, Charles’ voice comes through, tense and worried. “Y/N? Where are you? Your security detail lost track of you hours ago.”

Mattia’s grin is triumphant as he speaks. “Hello, Charles. It’s been a long time.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Charles responds, his voice low and dangerous. “Mattia. If you’ve hurt her, I swear-”

“Now, now,” Mattia interrupts. “Your precious doctor is fine. For now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t listen to him! It’s a trap!”

Mattia backhands you, the slap echoing in the small room. “Quiet!”

“Y/N!” Charles’ voice is anguished. “Mattia, I’m warning you-”

“You’re warning me?” Mattia laughs. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be making threats. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come alone to the address I’m about to send you. If I see any of your men, if I even suspect you’ve involved your friends in the police, the good doctor here will suffer the consequences. Understood?”

There’s a tense pause before Charles responds. “I understand. Let me speak to her.”

Mattia considers for a moment, then holds the phone closer to you. “Make it quick.”

“Charles,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. “Don’t do this. It’s not worth-”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Charles interrupts, his voice intense. “I’m coming for you. Just hold on. I promise, I’ll make this right.”

Before you can respond, Mattia pulls the phone away. “How touching. You have one hour, Charles. Come alone or she dies.”

He ends the call, turning to you with a satisfied smirk. “And now, we wait.”

The next hour is agonizing. Mattia leaves you alone in the room, your mind racing with possibilities, each worse than the last. You test your restraints, but they hold firm. The chair is bolted to the floor, leaving you no way to move.

Just when you think you can’t take the suspense any longer, the door opens. Your heart leaps, thinking it might be Charles, but it’s Mattia who enters, followed by two burly men.

“It seems your knight in shining armor has arrived,” Mattia announces, his eyes glinting with malice. “Let’s make sure we give him a proper welcome, shall we?”

He nods to one of the men, who moves behind you. You feel the cold press of a gun barrel against your temple.

“Is this really necessary?” You ask, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

Mattia shrugs. “Insurance, my dear. Can’t have you trying anything heroic when Charles arrives.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion outside the room. The door bursts open and Charles strides in, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N,” he breathes, relief and worry warring in his expression.

“Charles, no,” you plead. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s a trap!”

Mattia steps forward, clapping slowly. “Bravo, Charles. Right on time, and alone, as instructed. I must say, I’m impressed by your obedience.”

Charles tears his gaze from you to glare at Mattia. “Let her go, Mattia. This is between us.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Mattia replies, circling around to stand behind you. He places his hands on your shoulders, and you struggle not to flinch. “You see, your lovely doctor here is my insurance policy. Insurance that you’ll listen very carefully to what I have to say.”

Charles’ jaw clenches, but he remains still. “Say your piece, then.”

Mattia’s grip on your shoulders tightens. “It’s quite simple, really. I want what’s rightfully mine. The position your father stole from me, the respect I deserve. You’re going to step down, hand over control of the organization to me, and leave Monaco. Forever.”

You can’t stay silent any longer. “Charles, don’t do it! You can’t trust him!”

The gun presses harder against your temple, silencing you.

Charles’ eyes flick between you and Mattia, his expression unreadable. “And if I refuse?”

Mattia’s laugh is cold. “Then you get to watch your beloved doctor die, slowly and painfully, before I kill you too. Your choice, Charles.”

The tension in the room is palpable as Charles considers his options. You try to catch his eye, to silently communicate that your life isn’t worth the price Mattia is demanding. But Charles’ gaze is fixed on Mattia, his mind clearly racing.

Finally, Charles speaks, his voice eerily calm. “You’ve made one critical mistake, Mattia.”

Mattia’s eyebrows raise. “Oh? And what’s that?”

A small, dangerous smile plays at the corner of Charles’ lips. “You assumed I came alone.”

In that instant, several things happen at once. The lights in the room suddenly cut out, plunging everything into darkness. You hear the sound of breaking glass, followed by several muffled thuds. Someone grabs you, and for a moment you panic, thinking it’s Mattia. But then a familiar voice whispers in your ear.

“It’s me, Y/N. Hold still.”

It’s Pierre. You feel him cutting through your restraints. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you make out shapes moving in the room — Charles’ men, you realize, taking down Mattia’s guards.

When the lights flicker back on, the scene has completely changed. Mattia and his men are on the ground, subdued by Charles’ team. Charles himself is standing over Mattia, a gun pointed at his head.

“You’re right, Mattia,” Charles says, his voice cold. “This was between us. You should have left Y/N out of it.”

As Pierre helps you to your feet, you stumble, your legs weak from being bound for so long. Charles is at your side in an instant, supporting you.

“Are you alright?” He asks, his eyes scanning you for injuries.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “I’m okay. How did you ...”

Charles manages a small smile. “Did you really think I’d come unprepared? My men were in position before I ever entered the building.”

You lean into him, relief washing over you. “I thought ... I was so scared you’d give in to his demands.”

Charles’ arm tightens around you. “Never. I would never let him hurt you, Y/N.”

As Charles’ men secure Mattia and begin to lead him away, you turn to Charles. “What happens now?”

Charles’ expression turns grim. “Now, we make sure Mattia can never threaten us again. And then ...” He looks down at you, his eyes softening. “Then we talk about upgrading your security. Because I’m never letting something like this happen again.”

***

The morning after your harrowing ordeal, you find yourself seated in the hospital’s main conference room, feeling as though you’ve stepped into some sort of surreal dream. To your left sits Charles, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Across the table, the hospital’s board of directors fidget nervously, their eyes darting between you, Charles, and Dr. Beaumont, who sits at the head of the table.

The tension in the room is palpable as Dr. Beaumont clears his throat. “Well, Mr. Leclerc, Dr. Y/L/N, thank you for meeting with us on such short notice. I understand there’s been some ... concerns about security?”

Charles leans forward, his voice calm but carrying an undercurrent of steel. “Concerns would be putting it mildly, Dr. Beaumont. Dr. Y/L/N was kidnapped from your parking lot last night. I think that warrants more than just concern.”

You can see the color drain from Dr. Beaumont’s face. “Kidnapped? I ... we had no idea. Dr. Y/L/N, are you alright?”

All eyes turn to you, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. “I’m fine, thank you. It was a ... misunderstanding that’s been resolved.”

Charles’ hand finds yours under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “A misunderstanding that could have ended very differently. Which is why we’re here to discuss new security measures.”

Dr. Beaumont nods, still looking shaken. “Of course, of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Two of my personal security team will accompany Dr. Y/L/N at all times while she’s on hospital grounds,” Charles states, his tone brooking no argument.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before one of the board members, Dr. Rossi, speaks up. “Mr. Leclerc, while we certainly understand your concern, having armed guards in a hospital environment is highly unorthodox. It could make patients uncomfortable, not to mention the potential liability issues ...”

Charles’ eyes narrow. “I’m not particularly concerned with what’s orthodox, Dr. Rossi. I’m concerned with Y/N’s safety.”

You decide to intervene, hoping to smooth things over. “Perhaps we could find a compromise? The security team could maintain a discreet distance, only stepping in if necessary?”

Dr. Beaumont latches onto this suggestion eagerly. “Yes, that sounds more reasonable. We could provide them with visitor badges, allow them access to staff areas ...”

“No,” Charles cuts in firmly. “They stay with Y/N at all times. This isn’t up for negotiation.”

Another board member, Dr. Chen, leans forward. “Mr. Leclerc, please understand our position. We have protocols, regulations to follow. Having armed personnel constantly present could jeopardize our accreditation.”

Charles’ smile is cold. “I’m sure exceptions can be made, Dr. Chen. After all, I’d hate to think that the hospital values bureaucratic red tape over the safety of its star surgeon.”

The implied threat hangs heavy in the air. You can see the administrators exchanging nervous glances.

Dr. Beaumont attempts to regain control of the situation. “Now, let’s not be hasty. I’m sure we can come to an agreement that satisfies everyone. Mr. Leclerc, what if we were to increase our own security measures? Install more cameras, hire additional guards ...”

Charles shakes his head. “Not good enough. My men are highly trained professionals. They stay with Y/N.”

You can see the frustration building on the faces of the board members. Dr. Rossi tries again. “Mr. Leclerc, please be reasonable. We can’t just allow civilians to roam freely through sensitive areas of the hospital. There are privacy concerns, not to mention-”

“I think you misunderstand me,” Charles interrupts, his voice dangerously soft. “This isn’t a request. It’s happening. The only question is whether you choose to cooperate or not.”

The threat in his words is unmistakable. You watch as the color drains from Dr. Rossi’s face.

Feeling the need to defuse the tension, you speak up. “Perhaps we could implement this on a trial basis? See how it works for a month and then reassess?”

Dr. Beaumont seizes on this suggestion like a lifeline. “Yes, excellent idea, Dr. Y/L/N. A trial period would allow us to address any issues that arise and make adjustments as necessary.”

Charles considers this for a moment before nodding slowly. “A trial period is acceptable, provided there’s no interference with my security team’s duties.”

Relief is palpable around the table, but it’s short-lived as Charles continues.

“Of course, I understand this arrangement may cause some ... inconvenience for the hospital. To that end, I’m prepared to make an additional donation to help smooth things over.”

The board members perk up at this, their expressions shifting from worry to interest.

Dr. Beaumont leans forward eagerly. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. Leclerc. What sort of donation did you have in mind?”

Charles’ smile is predatory. “Let’s say ... sixteen million euros, to be used at the hospital’s discretion. Provided, of course, that my security requirements are met without further argument.”

The room falls silent as the enormity of the offer sinks in. You can practically see the dollar signs in the administrators’ eyes.

Dr. Chen is the first to recover. “Mr. Leclerc, that’s an incredibly generous offer. I’m sure we can work out the details of the security arrangement to everyone’s satisfaction.”

Charles nods, satisfied. “I’m glad we understand each other. Now, shall we discuss the specifics?”

What follows is a detailed negotiation of the security protocols. You watch, somewhat bemused, as the very same administrators who were stammering objections moments ago now fall over themselves to accommodate Charles’ every demand.

By the end of the meeting, it’s agreed that Charles’ security team will have full access to all areas of the hospital, will be allowed to carry concealed weapons, and will have final say on any security matters relating to you.

As the meeting wraps up, Dr. Beaumont turns to you, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Dr. Y/L/N, I hope you know that your safety is our utmost concern. If there’s anything else we can do ...”

You manage a small smile. “Thank you, Dr. Beaumont. I appreciate the hospital’s flexibility in this matter.”

As you and Charles stand to leave, Dr. Beaumont calls out, “Mr. Leclerc, a word in private, if you don’t mind?”

Charles nods, turning to you. “I’ll be right out, Y/N.”

You exit the conference room, your mind whirling. As you wait in the hallway, you overhear snippets of the conversation inside.

Dr. Beaumont’s voice, low and eager, “... sure there isn’t anything else we should know?”

Charles’ reply, cool and dismissive, “... all you need to concern yourself with ...”

A moment later, Charles emerges, his expression softening as he sees you. “Ready to go?”

You nod, falling into step beside him as you walk towards the elevator. “Don’t you think this is all a bit ... excessive?”

He stops, turning to face you. “After what happened last night, I’m not taking any chances with your safety. I can’t lose you.”

The raw emotion in his voice catches you off guard. You reach out, touching his arm gently. “You won’t lose me. But Charles, this is my workplace. I need to be able to do my job without feeling like I’m under constant surveillance.”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know. And I’m sorry if this complicates things for you. But please, just give it a chance. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”

You study his face, seeing the worry lines etched around his eyes, the tension in his jaw. Despite your reservations, you find yourself nodding. “Alright. We’ll try it your way. But if it becomes too disruptive ...”

“Then we’ll reassess,” Charles finishes, relief evident in his voice. “Thank you, Y/N.”

As you step into the elevator, you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into. The world of medicine, with its clear rules and ethical guidelines, seems far removed from Charles’ realm of shadowy deals and armed guards.

“Charles,” you say as the elevator descends, “what exactly did Dr. Beaumont want to discuss in private?”

Charles’ expression turns guarded. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just some details about the donation.”

You’re not entirely convinced, but you decide not to push it. As the elevator doors open, you’re greeted by the sight of two men in suits — clearly Charles’ security team.

Charles nods to them. “This is Andrea and Joris. They’ll be your primary security detail.”

You force a smile, extending your hand. “Nice to meet you both.”

Andrea and Joris nod respectfully, but their expressions remain impassive. You can already tell that this is going to take some getting used to.

As you walk through the hospital lobby, you’re acutely aware of the stares and whispers from staff and patients alike. Charles seems oblivious to the attention, but you feel your cheeks heating up.

“Charles,” you murmur, “people are staring.”

He glances around, then shrugs. “Let them stare. Your safety is more important than gossip.”

You’re about to argue further when you spot Sophia rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern.

“Y/N!” She exclaims, pulling you into a hug. “I heard you were in some kind of trouble last night. Are you okay? And who are these guys?”

You extract yourself from Sophia’s embrace, acutely aware of Charles and the security team watching. “I’m fine, Sophia. Really. It was just a misunderstanding. As for these gentlemen ...” You gesture vaguely. “They’re, um ...”

“Private security,” Charles interjects smoothly. “In light of recent events, we felt it prudent to take extra precautions.”

Sophia’s eyes dart between you and Charles, clearly bursting with questions. “Private security? Y/N, what’s going on?”

You can feel a headache building behind your eyes. “It’s complicated. I’ll explain later, okay?”

She nods, though her expression says this conversation is far from over. “Okay, but you owe me details. Lots of details.”

As Sophia walks away, you turn to Charles with a sigh. “This is going to be a nightmare to explain to everyone.”

Charles’ expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I need you safe. Everything else ... we’ll figure it out together.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing the mix of concern and affection there, you feel your resistance crumbling. Despite the complications, despite the danger, you know that what you and Charles have is worth fighting for.

“Together,” you agree softly.

As you head towards your office, flanked by Andrea and Joris, with Charles by your side, you can’t help but feel like you’re stepping into a new chapter of your life. One filled with more danger and complexity than you ever imagined, but also with a depth of love and protection you never thought possible.

The hospital corridors stretch out before you, familiar yet somehow changed. You take a deep breath, squaring your shoulders. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them head-on — with Charles (and now apparently with an armed escort) by your side.

***

A year later, life has settled into a new normal. You’ve grown accustomed to the peculiarities of being the personal physician to Monaco’s most powerful man, including the late-night calls and the sometimes bizarre injuries.

Tonight is one of those nights. You’re in Charles’ private medical suite, nestled within his sprawling mansion, tending to yet another gunshot wound. The room is state-of-the-art, rivaling any hospital, but with a touch of luxury that screams Charles.

“Ow! Easy there, mon cœur,” Charles winces as you clean the wound on his upper arm.

You roll your eyes, but there’s affection in your voice as you reply, “Maybe if you’d stop zigging when you should be zagging, we wouldn’t be here so often.”

Charles attempts a charming smile, but it turns into a grimace as you start preparing the sutures. “You know I can’t help it. Danger follows me everywhere.”

“Mhmm,” you hum skeptically. “And I’m sure you do nothing to encourage it.”

As you begin stitching, Charles lets out an exaggerated groan. “Y/N, you’re torturing me. Is this revenge for forgetting our dinner reservation last week?”

You can’t help but chuckle. “If I wanted revenge, I’d let Pierre patch you up instead. Now hold still, unless you want a scar to ruin your perfect skin.”

Charles pouts, looking more like a petulant child than the feared boss of the Monegasque Mafia. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Only a little,” you admit with a smirk. “Someone has to keep that ego of yours in check.”

As you finish the last stitch, Charles flexes his arm experimentally. “You know, for someone who claims to care about me, you’re awfully indifferent about my pain.”

You start cleaning up, shaking your head in amusement. “Stop getting shot if you don’t want stitches.”

Charles’ hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer. “But it hurts,” he whines playfully. “You should kiss me, treat me with care. I’m your patient, you should be good to me.”

You laugh, gently extracting yourself from his grip. “Nice try. But doctor’s orders are rest and recovery. No strenuous activity for at least a week.”

Charles’ eyes widen in horror. “A week? You can’t be serious. What am I supposed to do for a whole week?”

“I don’t know,” you tease, “maybe try not getting into gunfights? I hear it’s good for your health.”

Charles stands, testing his arm’s mobility. “You know that’s not what I meant. Come on, mon amour, surely there are some ... activities we could engage in that won’t strain my arm?”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “No sex, Charles. You’ll pull your stitches.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Charles groans dramatically, flopping back onto the examination table. Then, a mischievous glint appears in his eye. “What about just a little ... oral attention? That won’t affect my arm at all.”

You can’t help but laugh at his persistence. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Charles grins, clearly thinking he’s won. “But you love me anyway.”

“God help me, I do,” you admit, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “But the answer is still no. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

Charles sighs in defeat. “Fine, fine. But you owe me when I’m healed.”

“I’ll make it worth the wait,” you promise with a wink. “Now, let’s get you to bed. And I mean for sleeping, mister.”

As you help Charles to his feet, he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “You know, this whole stern doctor act is incredibly sexy. Maybe we could role-play once I’m better?”

You playfully swat his uninjured arm. “Behave or I’ll have Pierre stand guard outside our door to make sure you rest.”

Charles chuckles as you guide him out of the medical suite and towards the bedroom. “You wouldn’t dare. Pierre’s terrified of walking in on us after last time.”

The memory makes you blush. “Don’t remind me. I still can’t look him in the eye.”

As you reach the opulent bedroom, you help him settle into bed. He catches your hand as you turn to leave. “Stay with me?” He asks, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way few people ever get to hear.

Your resolve melts. “Just to sleep. I mean it, Charles.”

You kick off your shoes and climb into bed beside him, careful not to jostle his injured arm. Charles immediately pulls you close with his good arm, nuzzling into your neck.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Not just for this, but for everything. For patching me up, for putting up with my dangerous life, for ... for loving me despite it all.”

The sincerity in his voice touches you deeply. You turn in his embrace to face him, cupping his cheek gently. “Charles, I don’t love you despite your life. I love all of you, dangerous parts included. Though I could do with fewer midnight patch-up sessions.”

Charles chuckles softly. “I’ll try to schedule my injuries for more convenient times in the future.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “How about trying to avoid injuries altogether?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Charles teases, but then his expression turns serious. “I know my life isn’t easy, Y/N. I know I ask a lot of you. If it ever becomes too much ...”

You silence him with a gentle kiss. “Stop right there. I’m not going anywhere. I knew what I was getting into, and I choose this — I choose you — every day.”

Charles’ arms tighten around you, mindful of his injury. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Probably not,” you agree with a smirk. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”

As you lay there in comfortable silence, your mind drifts to the events of the past year. The increased security measures, the close calls, the exhilarating highs and terrifying lows of being part of Charles’ world. It hasn’t been easy, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“What are you thinking about?” Charles asks softly, noticing your contemplative mood.

You trace lazy patterns on his chest as you answer. “Just ... everything. How much has changed in a year. How different my life is now.”

Charles tenses slightly. “Do you ever regret it? Getting involved with me, I mean.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow to look at him properly. “Never. It’s crazy and dangerous and sometimes I think I must be out of my mind, but I’ve never been happier.”

The relief on Charles’ face is palpable. “Even when I wake you up at ungodly hours to stitch me up?”

“Even then,” you assure him with a smile. “Though I reserve the right to be grumpy about it.”

Charles laughs, then winces as the movement jostles his arm. “Fair enough. I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t accidentally stitched anything embarrassing into me yet.”

You grin mischievously. “Don’t give me ideas. I’m sure ‘Drama Queen’ would look lovely across your bicep.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Charles gasps in mock horror.

“Try me,” you challenge playfully. “Keep whining about your injuries and find out.”

Charles pulls you closer, nuzzling into your hair. “Alright, alright. I’ll be a model patient from now on.”

You snort in disbelief. “I’ll believe that when I see it. Now get some rest. Doctor’s orders.”

As Charles’ breathing evens out, you find yourself marveling at the turn your life has taken. From a chance encounter in a dark alley to this — sharing a bed with one of the most powerful men in Monaco, patching up bullet wounds in the middle of the night.

It’s not the life you ever imagined for yourself, but as you feel the steady beat of Charles’ heart beneath your hand, you know it’s exactly where you’re meant to be. Dangerous, complicated, and wonderfully yours.

You press a soft kiss to Charles’ chest, careful not to wake him. “I love you,” you whisper, knowing that no matter what challenges tomorrow brings, you’ll face them together.

As sleep begins to claim you, your last coherent thought is a mix of amusement and affection. You make a mental note to stock up on lollipops – it seems your most frequent patient has a penchant for post-treatment rewards, and you have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of his pouty face in the future.

But that’s okay. Because for every whine, every pout, every dramatic sigh, there’s also the fierce protectiveness, the tender moments, and the love that radiates from Charles in everything he does. It’s a package deal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to Charles and let sleep take you, ready to face whatever adventures — or misadventures — tomorrow might bring.

[hansensgirl]

☠️ — 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary. | Steve Rogers and his wife have a precarious arrangement in which she can have as many affairs as she likes, as long as she doesn’t ask for a divorce. But a man like him only has so much patience. And there you are, his child’s babysitter, too sweet to resist.

pairings. | Dark!Steve Rogers x baby-sitter!fem!reader, Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (brief), Peggy Carter x numerous OMCs (implied/mentioned).

warnings. | NON/DUB-CON (leaning more towards dubious consent), smut, age gap, Halloween celebrations, deceit, manipulation, Steve is mean to his wife, obsession, possessiveness, implied murder (not the reader), mentions of masturbation (m), fingering (f), kissing, nipple play, Sir kink, mild Daddy kink, creampie, dirty talk, power dynamics/imbalance, praise, mild degradation, pet names (sweetheart, sweetie, honey, baby, love), missionary, rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism, mentions of riding, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

word count. | ~4.8k

author’s note. | hello! happy belated halloween! i know i’m a bit late—i’m sorry. here’s the dark!steve fic i was talking about. it’s a Deep Water!AU. please enjoy and heed the warnings! thank you @cuttlefjsh for beta-ing and putting up with me! let me know what you think. thank you for reading! taglist: @hansensfics. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY

The leaves fall apart underneath the pace of his feet. The hill slopes downwards, and the branches snap and hit the ground. Steve keeps pushing—keeps running even though he’s long devolved from a jog. The burn in his lungs is beautiful. He’s breathless.

For once, he doesn’t have to think about little Sarah and her mother. He doesn’t have to worry like a housewife, even though he was once the man of the house.

Millions in revenue. Two vacation homes. Endless income. But it’s never enough for her.

When Steve reaches the creek, he stops. The Apple watch on his wrist clocks in an unhealthy amount of steps. Unhealthy for everyone else, at least. He’s always been above average, and now he’s just like the rest.

Another greying head in the sea of a crowd. Another typical client his shrink has with the same old problems—a cheating wife, a midlife crisis.

His phone buzzes, and Steve half-expects a reminder he doesn’t need. But it’s better—so much better than he could ever predict.

It’s you—your name with a heart. His spouse doesn’t even have that—she’s just got her entire government name with “wife” in parentheses.

Hi, Mr. Rogers. Hope you enjoyed your weekend! I wanted to confirm that I’m coming tonight. I texted Mrs. Rogers yesterday, but I haven’t received a reply yet. Sorry to be pushy. I just need to know in time. Thanks, and Happy Halloween! 🎃

He sighs. He’s never understood why you always go to Peggy first, even though you’ve seen her incompetency more than you do your own family. He’ll have a talk with you tonight—while Peggy is out on a date with her latest suitor.

Hey, honey. I hope your weekend is as wonderful as you are. Yes, we’re still on for tonight. Don’t worry about my wife. From now on, just come to me, okay? Be here by 7:00, please. Thanks. Happy Halloween! 👻

Steve replies a few minutes later, but you read his message immediately. The timestamp makes him smile. Soon, the ‘typing’ icon pops up and following it is your message.

Great, thank you so much! See you then :)

You even leave a ‘heart’ on his text message; he does the same to yours. A sigh escapes the older man’s chest. His heart has returned to its regular rate, and the sweat on his back has cooled.

The scene before him is gorgeous—but doesn’t even hold a candle to your beauty. The thought of you is more addictive than any illicit substance. It calms him down when he needs to and riles him up at the worst times.

Steve says it’s not fair. Peggy shouldn't have all the fun with her boyfriends—even when her husband gets rid of them quicker than need be. It’s exhausting to deviate from law enforcement for a woman who doesn’t care about her own family.

She gets to devise grand schemes and say mean words to him. She doesn’t bother with her own daughter. She doesn’t lift a finger or pay for a thing with money she earned. Steve has to live in the shadows—and he’s tired of it.

The almost 50-year-old man follows his usual trail back home. Sirens pass behind him, heading toward some emergency that he undoubtedly has nothing to do with. Not this time, at least.

He feels like a dog in the manger. Everyone can have Peggy (to a certain extent), but he can’t have anyone himself.

Fake cobwebs and pumpkins sit outside houses on each side of the road. It’s the spookiest night of the year, yet you have no plans. No parties to attend with some stupid little boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you the way he would.

When Steve unlocks the front door, he finds his wife’s heels strewn on the floor and his daughter watching cartoons in the living room. He kisses Sarah’s head and ensures she’s eaten the entirety of her breakfast. He tried his best with ghost-shaped pancakes, though they turned out more like blobs than anything. She doesn’t mind at all.

Sarah’s a brainiac, her new hobby being those kits that teach you how to hook wires into potatoes and other vegetables. Steve applauds her creations every time she shows them off, noting the little technological genius in her that he must’ve contributed to.

That is, if he’s her biological father.

The television screen plays her choice of cartoons, with a Halloween theme for the special day. He smiles when she laughs before heading upstairs.

Peggy has the largest room with the nicest furniture. She spends little time there unless she’s getting ready to go out or recovering from a hangover.

Steve knocks on her door. Despite there being no answer, he unlocks it and lets himself in. His wife is wide awake, eye makeup smudged a bit, but she’s wearing her signature jeans with a tank top.

She turns around and smiles at the sight of him. “What do you think?” she asks, gesturing to the costume she has laid out.

It’s a vampire—that’s as much as he gathers. The little voice in his head tells him how fitting it is—Peggy has sucked the life out of him for the last seven years.

“Perfect,” Steve tells her, giving her his most forced smile, and they both know she sees right through it.

“Good. And what are you going as?” she questions, turning her back to him. He genuinely contemplates this for a second.

For the last few years, he’s always worn a cheap cape and said he’s a superhero. But he’s tired of the same thing all the time.

“I’m not sure. I’ll come up with something, though. What time are you leaving?” Steve asks. “Oh, probably around six. Don’t wait up for me. You’ll take Sarah trick-or-treating, right?” Peggy smiles, unwilling to take ‘no” for an answer.

Steve says nothing and simply leaves. He takes his phone out of his pocket—sleek screen and a photo of you and Sarah as one of his wallpapers—and pulls up his conversation with you.

Hey, hon. Do you mind coming a bit earlier? 6:30 will do.

He doesn’t even have to wait for your reply.

Sure! Do you want me to stay the night, too? I don’t mind.

Always diligent. Always a sweetheart.

Please do. The door will be unlocked.

You give his message a thumbs-up, and he sighs.

Tonight will be the night. Tonight, he’ll finally get what he wants, and no one can stop him. Not even you.

You give the door a knock three times, even though you’re more than welcome to simply enter. It feels wrong, though. Too familiar, too casual.

Halloween is one of your favourite holidays. It’s a day full of excitement and creativity, and the month leading up to it is terrific. The turning leaves and the cold weather that lets you wear your coziest sweaters. The candy is the cherry on top of the entire delicacy.

You’ve never been on for extravagant costumes due to your procrastination. Tonight, you’re an angel. You don an all-white get-up; a lace dress, sheer tights, and matching shoes. You have a borrowed halo on your head and floppy wings on your back. It’s the best you can do for now.

Steve opens the door a few moments later, and he’s wearing a black suit. His hair is gelled, and he has a toothy grin—a change from his usual scowl. You smile at the sight of him.

“Happy Halloween!” you cheer, and he laughs. “Happy Halloween, sweetheart. What are you supposed to be? The devil?” he jokes. “Hardy-har-har. I’m an angel. But what are you? A CEO?” you ask, raking your eyes up and down his body.

The older man basks in your attention, his ears burning red.

“Actually, I’m a groom. Something different from the superhero thing, you know? It was the only thing I could come up with,” he sheepishly admits, and you wave his shyness away. “I love that! I never see anyone do something simple yet unique. But no decorations?”

You glance back at his front lawn and see nothing but withered flowers and yellow leaves from the neighbour’s over-arching tree. His porch simply has a bowl of candy with a threatening “TAKE ONE (1)” sign, assumingly written by Sarah.

“Nope. But there’s always next year!” he reassures. You giggle and nod your head. Your cheeks burn from smiling so much. Do you find him amusing? Or is it forced? Steve has numerous questions running through his mind, some exciting the butterflies in the attic that is his stomach, and some boiling his blood.

“C’mon in. No jacket? You must be freezing. You’re better than that, honey,” he chides like the father he is. He locks the door behind you—chain and all. “I didn’t think it’d be this cold,” you admit, removing your shoes. Steve takes them from you and places them on the rack where Peggy’s usual ankle boots would be.

You note the absence of her items and the lack of noise from the television. You don’t pay them much mind.

“Ah, rookie mistake. If you want, you can borrow a jacket from me,” he offers, picking up a stray black feather from the floor. You set your small backpack on the bottom step and follow his lead.

“So… What’s Sarah’s costume? She kept talking about being a minion, and then a cow, so I’m not too sure,” you laugh, and Steve does the same. “Peggy wanted her to be one of those Mario characters, but you know Sarah. Tonight, she’s Albert Einstein. Including the wig, of course.”

When you enter the clean living room, you expect to see her adorable face dressed as the notorious physicist. But she’s not there—and neither are the family photos.

“Um, sir, where is she?” you question, and he gestures to one of the sofas. You take a seat and wait for his return. He comes back with two drinks and hands you one of them. “Sarah is at her grandma’s. Peggy is at one of those parties she always goes to,” Steve coolly explains.

“Oh, are we going there? Or do you want me to stay back and give candy out?” You take a sip of your drink—a cherry limeade you once raved about to him. The sparkling water fizzles on your tongue. “No, she’ll be going trick-or-treating with her cousins.”

There’s a beat. A moment. And it lasts for a while.

“Uh, so what am I doing here?” you query. “Sweetheart. I’m a bit disappointed. You probably think that’s all I want you here for, don’t you? C’mon, you’re more than a babysitter to me.”

Steve places emphasis on his last word. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I really don’t understand what you’re implying,” you profess, downing more of your drink out of sheer nervousness. Are you being fired? Are they moving? Did you do something wrong?

“Oh, honey, c’mere,” he says, even though he comes to you. He moves from his position across from you—standing tall in his full, towering height. Steve sits down next to you and places his large, warm hand on your cold left thigh. “Don’t be scared. M’not gonna hurt you. You’re not in trouble,” he says in a low tone.

When he’s this close to you, you can see the details of his face entirely. Whenever you’ve tried to admire him from afar, it’s like he knows when you’re looking.

“You’re so sweet… So pretty. I bet you’re nice and soft, too, hm? And you’ll be a good girl for me?” he asks, and you furrow your brows. You open your mouth to say something to him, but you’re quickly shut up with a searing kiss.

Steve presses his lips against yours, and it’s better than anything he could have ever imagined. The fantasies he’s had during those late nights or showers with his fist wrapped around his cock don’t even compare.

He takes charge, pushing his tongue inside your mouth and exploring within. His strong hands scoop you into his lap, one of them holding the back of your head. You lean back as Steve’s forwardness dominates you. You’re not sure what to do, so you place your palms on his shoulders and use a bit of force to try to push him away.

The married man doesn’t budge. It’s getting hard to breathe, and you feel like he’s sucked the air out of your lungs. You sink your teeth down lightly on what you think is his tongue, and he hisses as he pulls away.

“Sir– We can’t do this. It isn’t right. I– I mean, you’re my boss, and you have a wife—and poor Sarah, she doesn’t deserve this–”

“Fuck Peggy. Do you really think she cares? I don’t love her, never have. I only love you, darling. Now, what you just di–”

“Love me? Mr. Rogers, I think you’re mistaken. Maybe it’s just because we’re alone, or you and Peggy have been distant, but you don’t love me, Sir. I won’t mention this to anyone, I swear. And I’ll find another job if you’d like,” you breathlessly explain, shaking your head.

Steve shushes you with a snarl. “You’re not leaving me.” His voice is stern, and his tone says it all—there’s no arguing. “Please,” you try to get off the older man’s lap, but he holds onto you tightly. “We’re perfect for each other, honey. Don’t you see? Sarah loves you, and you love her. And look! I’m your groom, and you’re my angelic wife,” he exclaims, pulling the halo and ripping the wings off.

You gasp at his strength and audacity. You’d try to fight him, but you know you’d end up more hurt than anything. “Please don’t make this difficult,” he demands, adding your name. The mention makes you flinch, as he rarely says it.

“Look at those eyes… All blown out. I bet you’re soaking, aren't you?” Steve asks, but you don’t reply. His blue irises seem much darker in the dim lighting. His pupils are wide, and it’s like looking at a man who’s been possessed. “You’re probably making a mess of your panties, and we’ve barely even started. Does that always happen when you’re around me? Gosh, I bet you smell so sweet.”

His words make you whimper, and he smiles. “Oh, and look at those perfect tits,” he hums, groping them. Your nipples are stiff as peaks, and the rough touch from Steve has you shuddering. “Pl– Please,” you beg as he pulls at the nubs. The pain teeters on pleasure, and you squeeze your thighs to put an end to the thrumming at your core.

“‘Please,’ what, sweetie? Hm?”

“Please, Sir,” you whisper.

The title makes him groan. “Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you,” Steve expresses. You don’t want to know. “Ever since we met… D’you remember that floral dress you wore? That you kept pulling up? God, I wanted to take you right there…”

You remember that day all too well. Seeing Mr. Rogers in all his glory was riveting, and the slight crush you developed lives on. Now—you’re not sure. Your brain is a mess, and you can’t think straight.

Your boss lifts you up bridal style, and he doesn’t let this go unnoticed. “See? We were meant for each other, honey. And we don’t even need a wedding.”

He sets you down on the bed in the room on the main floor. You’ve stayed here from time to time when Peggy likes to come out at two in the morning, and Steve is beyond worried for her.

Was it all a farce? You remember those times and how he never called her or insisted on picking her up.

Steve’s hands pull at your cheap dress, and he rips it down the middle. You regret your choice of not wearing a bra, but either way, it would’ve done nothing.

He cups your breasts, and you moan at the touch. He latches his mouth onto one nipple as he plays with the other. His mouth is skilled—his tongue flicking and teeth slightly grazing the sensitive skin.

Mr. Rogers’ fingers are just as talented. They pinch, pull, and twist at your other peak simultaneously. He switches eventually, and you’re a puddle beneath the imposing man.

Your back is arched slightly, and you’re practically pushing your chest into his face, and he chuckles. “So desperate. You need me so badly, don’t you?” he says, nodding his head and smiling when you mimic him for a split second. “Atta girl—so good for me.”

Steve pulls back, and you whine. He soothes you and pulls his jacket off. You can see the ripples of muscle beneath the white collared shirt. He unbuckles his belt with swiftness. You gnaw on your bottom lip despite its swollenness.

Soon, he’s back on you. Your boss hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, and he pulls them down your legs, admiring the strings of slick that break from the distance. He pushes the cloth into his pocket, and you clench when you think of the things he’ll do with it later on.

In your mind is a tiny voice that chides your every wrongdoing—how you haven’t fought back as much as you should. But there’s a louder one that was once lovesick over the married man before you, and it’s far more convincing.

Steve spreads your legs and curses at the sight of your sopping cunt. You involuntarily clench from the exposure. “You’ve got such a pretty pussy, baby,” he murmurs, leaning over you. One arm keeps him up, and the other bends your knees, giving him better access.

His fingers slide against your folds, collecting wetness as he caresses your lips. You let out a pleasured sigh, secretly wishing he would stop tormenting you and just get it over with. “So sensitive, too. I bet you’ll make such a mess on my cock.”

You never knew Steve could have such a filthy mouth—and God, do his words have your head spinning.

He quickly finds your swollen, throbbing clit and lightly touches it. The sensations on your little pearl are mild, but they’re enough to have you writhing beneath Steve. He draws light circles with the tips of his fingers. Your mouths brush against each other, and he teases you until you’re whispering pleas against his lips.

“Shh… It’s okay, love,” he reassures. Once he knows he has you worked up enough, Steve pushes the first digit into your pussy. The intrusion has you gasping, which turns into a whimper when he shoves another in. “Lookatcha, honey. You’re takin’ my fingers like a champ. This cunt is so tight, though. I’m really gonna have to stretch ya to fit my cock in there.”

The idea of his large cock barely fitting inside you makes your muscles involuntarily constrict against Steve’s fingers.

It takes a moment for you to adjust to the intrusion, though your walls welcome him like a familiar friend. His fingers are longer and thicker than yours, and with ease, he reaches that sweet spot most boys your age miss.

Eventually, Steve begins to fuck you on his hand. His digits slide in and out of you with ease as he picks up the pace. The skin glistens from your slick, and it’s a sight to behold. He creates a scissor motion with his two fingers every now and then, stretching you out while having you at his mercy.

It doesn’t take long for your moans to get louder while your face forms a frown of pleasure. The squelching sound of your cunt and that build-up just above your core are tell-tale signs that you’re about to come. “Oh, sir…!” you wail, and Steve picks up the pace.

“I can feel that cunt clenching on me, honey. God, you’re so beautiful this way. C’mon, make a mess on my hand. Come for me,” he rasps, rubbing his cheek against yours.

Your eyes squeeze shut when you come undone on Mr. Rogers’ hand. Your aching hole squeezes his fingers, and he makes you ride your orgasm out. Your back arches, and you let out a loud moan as pleasure shocks every nerve in your body. The lewd sounds of your cunt are noisy.

You find yourself immediately wanting more, even though you shouldn’t.

“Good girl—such a good girl for me,” Steve coos before slowly sliding his fingers out your channel. Your inner walls already miss the presence of his digits. You struggle to catch your breath, but in the midst of it all, you hear your boss pull the zipper to his pants down.

“I can’t wait to get inside of you, sweetie. I need you so badly it hurts,” he says while pressing kisses against the side of your neck. Steve climbs on top of you as he frees his aching cock from the confines of his boxers.

He grips himself by the base, his entire hand wrapped around his hardness. He gives himself a few strokes as pre-cum leaks from his slit, sliding down his bulbous head. His size is marvellous, a raging purplish-red with a thick base. Steve slaps the tip of his cock against your clit, and you flinch from the unexpected jolt of pleasure. “Fuck…” he curses.

“Are you looking, sweetie? This is such a special moment for us—I hope you remember it well,” he hums in your ear, and out of your natural obedient instinct, you lift your head to where you two are about to be connected. The sight of Steve’s cock makes you whimper. “Shit, what a good little slut.”

He drags the head of his dick through your dripping folds, and then he pushes in. The sudden stretch causes your skull to fall back against the bed. You try to close your legs, but Steve’s presence makes that impossible. He refuses to let you hide what’s his.

The older man completely sheathes himself inside your pussy. The squelching sound has you cringing in shame, but that quickly disappears when the feeling of fullness takes over. Steve’s balls touch your ass when he bottoms out, and your breathing is rapid from the sensuality of it all.

A hand wraps around your throat—though gentle, it scares you at first. Your eyes meet with Mr. Rogers’, and he looks at you with what appears to be adoration.

“You feel just like heaven,” he simply tells you. “I’m never letting you go after this—never was plannin’ on it, anyway.”

Before you can even process his words, Steve starts to fuck you. His pace is slow at first, and he hits your sweet spot with ease—a feat most boys your age are incapable of. Your moans are wanton and loud, teetering on the verge of pathetic for someone who was fighting against him at first.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimper, and your reaction makes Steve smile. “You love this, don’t you? Yeah, always knew you needed a real man to fuck this cunt.”

His thrusts are a bit quicker now, and he pulls in and out of your wet pussy roughly. The sound of skin on skin is thunderous, nearly covering up the wet noises from your stickiness. His thick cock shines from your juices. Steve ruts into you like a starved man—because he is one.

His pelvic bone hits your clit every now and then, and his swollen, heavy balls are against the curve of your ass. He’s relentless in claiming you as his, sucking, biting, and licking at the skin on your neck.

“Oh my God—Steve–” you mewl, the pleasure blooming inside you almost too much to handle.

“What’s wrong, honey? Are you gonna come again?” Steve questions with faux pity. He punctuates each word with a thrust, fat cock pushing into your tightness. “What a pathetic little slut, making such a big mess on her boss’ cock. And I’m married too. You just can’t help it, can you?” he teases, and his filthy words have you squeezing his length from the filthiness. He lets a groan out from the feeling, and he keeps the fervour going.

That elastic band inside your stomach begins to tighten, and you can feel another orgasm build up quickly. “Go ahead. Make a mess on Daddy’s dick, baby,” he urges, and as if on command, you cream around his thickness.

Your back arches off the bed, but you don’t go anywhere far with Steve’s chest keeping you pressed down. Your hardened nipples rub against the cloth of his shirt, and the added friction makes your climax all the more breathtaking. The older man pounds into your cunt vigorously.

Stars appear in your vision until you come back down. Mr. Rogers doesn’t stop fucking you, forcing you to endure the overstimulation. Even with your legs shaking, he refuses to give up. “Good girl—such a good whore for Daddy,” he praises. The tip of his cock pummels against your G-spot continuously.

Your tits bounce with each push of Steve’s cock. Sometimes, he grazes your cervix, but the mild pain dulls away when he presses chaste kisses to your face and brutalizes your g-spot. “‘S too much,” you mumble, legs involuntarily trying to close. “Nu-uh—It’s enough when I say it’s enough. Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill up that pretty pussy real soon,” he says, and as if on cue, there’s a change in the way he pounds into your cunt.

His thrusts become more sloppy, but they keep the same passion and desperation that he started everything with. There’s an intensity you can’t describe because it just feels so fucking good. The hand on your neck moves and begins to caress the rest of your body. Your pulsating walls hug him, practically refusing to let go. Your skin is hot and sticky, just like his—if not more.

Wandering hands grope your body, going pliant underneath Steve. Guttural groans leave Steve’s mouth while you’re gasping endlessly. “Shit—you were made for taking this dick, sweetie. I’m gonna fill you up until you’re leaking down your thighs,” he promises, and the threat of it sounds terrific to your fucked-out mind.

“Be a good girl and soak Daddy’s cock one more time,” he orders. The blur between your previous climax and the one that takes you over now has your head spinning. You grasp the bedsheets from the overwhelming pleasure. A silent scream leaves your mouth, which Steve accompanies with a grunt followed by a string of curse words. “Fuck.”

You squeeze Steve’s length tightly, soaking him in your wetness. Electric shocks run down your spine and unto every nerve in your body. You feel like you’re floating for a split second. You’ve never come that hard—ever. It’s difficult to breathe, and Mr. Rogers is mean enough to make you take the euphoria he’s doling out.

Wetness stains the skin that surrounds where you two are filthily connected. Your ass is sticky, and some of your cream stains the trimmed hair at the base of Steve’s shaft. It’s a mess—one he intends on adding to with his semen.

His cock twitches inside your pussy, and with a final shove, he stills with his pelvis pressed against your clit. Steve’s balls clench, and he shudders as he reaches his own high. Ropes of cum spurt from the fat tip of the older man’s cock, painting your insides. The feeling makes you whimper as you’re filled to the brim with his seed.

For a few moments, Steve stays in that position, catching his breath while he recovers from his orgasm. Your eyes dance along his face, taking in the pinched yet relaxed look he dons.

Eventually, your boss resurfaces from the depths of his climax. You’re more than exhausted and have half a mind to fall asleep right then and there.

But the sound of the front door opening and closing shocks you from your stupor. Worry is written all over your features when Steve looks at you. “Aw, don’t worry, honey,” he hums, and though it may seem impossible, you can feel him get harder inside your pussy,

Whether it’s your evident fright or the thrill of getting caught, you’re not sure. Both make you dizzy.

Peggy’s notable accent slurs a call for Steve. “Think we should put on a show for her?” he jokes, grinding his cock further into your pussy.

You’re sure that no matter what you say, he won’t listen. And what will follow will be a nightmare you can’t escape.

But those thoughts ebb away when you hear your other boss curse a storm and abruptly leave, even though she hasn’t walked in on the pornographic scene that’s taking place in the guest room.

“Well, there’s always next time—if she’ll even make it,” Steve grumbles under his breath, but the words are too vague for you to dwell on them. “Think you’re up for round two, love? I wanna play with those tits while you ride my cock.”

For the nth time, your body betrays you and tells him your true desires. Either way, he still would’ve gotten what he wanted. Steve Rogers always gets what he wants.

[menagerofmischief]

shrimp cocktail, cold appetizer, lobster, coca-cola, yes dessert, served by oscar piastri

Dia's Diner Menu

shrimp cocktail rivals to lovers cold appetizer rough sex lobster "I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy" coca-cola somnophillia dessert aftercare

Oscar Piastri x Ferrari!driver!reader

TW: one bed trope, unprotected sex (wrap you willy please), sleep dry humping

WC: 2k

A/N: I enjoyed writing this one a lot. Also I wanted to say I'm so thankful to all of you that sent requests and that I can't wait to write all of them but you'll maybe have to be patient with me because I'm a student and am pretty busy with school. I hope y'all are gonna enjoy this one.

Some bigger force, God or karma or fate or whatever else there is, was definitely out to get me. Because this had to be the worst fucking night of my life. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.

Why was this the worst night of my life?

We just made it to Singapore for the upcoming Grand Prix and went straight to our hotel. The whole grid was staying at the same place since it made things more convenient. I go up to the reception to check in and get the key to my room, all but ready to collapse into the mattress and sleep the jet lag off. 

“I’m so sorry Miss,” the receptionist says, tapping her fingers against the keyboard, glancing up at me every few seconds. Finally she looks up, her expression apologetic. “It seems there was a mistake with the booking and we double booked your room.”

I fight off the urge to groan and roll my eyes, instead plastering a smile on my face. “It’s fine, it’s not that big of a deal. Just put me in whatever room is available.”

She makes a face, looking down at the computer again and then returning her gaze to mine. “I really am sorry but there are no other rooms available right now.”

Now I really did groan. “Fantastic. Can I know who the other person occupying the room will be?”

Before the receptionist had the chance to answer, my worst nightmare in human form came up to the desk, standing right next to me. “Hello. I’m here to check in - it’s under Oscar Piastri.”

The woman - I finally glanced at her name tag, seeing her name was Alice - looked between us, then down at the computer before looking at us again. “Sir, as I was just explaining to the lady here, the hotel double booked your room by accident.”

“It’s fine just put me in a -”

“There’s no available rooms.” I cut him off. “Just the one.”

Oscar looked at me, narrowing his eyes. McLaren’s golden boy, affectionately nicknamed ‘the polite cat’ by the fans was the biggest thorn in my side for a long while now. Everything started back in F2 with our on track rivalry which grew with each race. Then I signed into F1, fulfilling my childhood dreams of racing in red and thought I escaped him. I thought too soon apparently because after my announcement post, his followed soon and I was once again back on track with him.

Did I have a reason to hate him? Absolutely! Was it awfully petty and possibly over-dramatic? Very likely. It was my first race in F2, I was about to finish P2 it was amazing. Then he crashed into me and drove us both into the wall, causing us both to DNF and lose out on a podium.

We have hated each other ever since.

“It’s okay - we’ll share.” Oscar’s voice brought me out of my thoughts, quickly turning my head to look at him.

“What!?”

Oscar took the key from Alice and dangled it in front of me, a smirk on his face. “I said we’re gonna be bunking.” He pulled the handle of his suitcase, “Come on then, Y/n”

✿ ✿ ✿

“You stay on your side of the room,” I said, putting the chair in the middle of the room to make it a half marker. “And I’ll stay on mine.” The one queen size bed would definitely be a problem as well, but one I would mention later.

“And how are you gonna go the bathroom since it’s on my side?” He asked, his voice holding a teasing tone.

“Bathroom if free ground, hallway too” I stated, crossing my arms over my chest.

Oscar’s gaze dropped down, stayed for a few seconds and then his eyes met mine again. He hummed, “And if I wanna open the window then what? Since it’s on your side.”

“Don’t act smart,” I told him. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“You wound me!” He gasped, pressing a hand over his heart.

“Shame it’s not fatal.”

✿ ✿ ✿

This was definitely the weirdest night of my life.

With only one bed in the room, no couch and neither of us willing to put our body in uncomfortable positions sleeping on the chair or on the floor, night before practice - Oscar and I made an agreement to share the bed.

One of the extra blankets from the closet was bunched up and put down the middle of the bed separating the two us. Not that it served much purpose considering that it was kicked down and off the bed while we were sleeping.

I woke up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the dark and then I felt it. The slow, yet desperately feral rolls, the pressure and the pleasure. I had to press a hand against my mouth to stop myself from moaning, taking in deep harsh breaths through my nose.

I came to a realization about three things, so goes:

Oscar had moved a bigger part of his body onto my side of the bed.

He had pulled me close and caged me in his arms sometimes during the night.

He was grinding his very much hard cock into me -  in his sleep.

My cheeks were on fire and it felt like the rest of my body was too. The pajamas, which I purposely picked out because of how light they were, felt suffocating now.

I didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was done, my body moving on its own. One leg pushing slightly forward, opening just enough space for Oscar’s hips to chase mine and my ass slowly barely grinding back into him.

I was enjoying this much more than I should have and it was wrong. God, it was so wrong. But when his erection was rubbing so perfectly against me, I couldn’t bring myself to care.

I was wet, I knew I was. I could feel how soaked my panties had gotten and the uncomfortable feel of my slick underwear did not escape me. As the pressure increased I couldn’t help but let out a moan.

The noise felt deafening in the silent room and my eyes widened. Oscar’s body stilled and my breath caught in my throat, the dread of having woken him with my moans taking over me.

A moment passed, two moments passed. Then Oscar’s hands tightened around my body, pulling me even closer to him, my ass pressed just against the outline of his dick. One of his hands moved down my stomach, dipping into the waistband of my sleeping shorts and going straight down into my panties.

He ran a finger through my folds, coating it in my slick and it took everything in me not to moan. “You’re fucking dripping,” his voice in my ear made me freeze. Awake afterall. “This wet from me humping you? And here I thought you hated me.”

The pad of his finger touched my clit, a gasp falling from my lips at the pleasurable feeling. “Did you enjoy me rutting into you while I was sleeping, you dirty dirty girl?” He added more pressure, rubbing circles on my clit and this time I didn’t hold my moans back. “Woke up halfway through, when you started grinding your ass on me like a bitch in heat. You seemed so into it, I thought I’d just keep going.”

“Wasn’t,” I whispered.

“What was that?” He growled into my ear.

“Wasn’t grinding on you,” I said, through gritted teeth.

His fingers pinched my clit and my whole body surged forward, mouth falling open to let out a loud moan. “Don’t lie,” he said, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh don’t worry sweetheart, you will.”

Oscar pulled his fingers out of my panties, making me whine at the loss of friction on my clit. His chuckle vibrated through the room. He got up onto his knees on the bed, arms coming forward to grab my shoulders, and pulled me roughly so I was laying on my back.

I couldn’t help but look at him above me. His eyes were full of lust, pupils blown wide and cheeks red. As much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself, he looked absolutely ethereal. 

“Tell me to stop,” he said, fingers hooking into the waistband of my sleeping shorts.

I held his gaze, a shaky breath falling from my mouth. “Don’t stop.”

In one move he pulled down both my shorts and my panties, throwing them behind him without a care. Then he took off his own shorts, followed by his boxers - that ended up being thrown somewhere too. He pulled me up enough to take my top off, and then pushed me down again, leaving me completely bare. 

Oscar leaned over me, his mouth drawn in a smirk, his breath hot on my face. “Tell me not to kiss you.”

“Kiss me,” I whispered. He didn’t waste a second, as soon as the words were out of my mouth he was surging forward, his lips pressing harshly against mine, tongue pushing into my mouth. He pulled slightly back, my lip caught before his teeth and he gently bit down, making me whine into his mouth.

“Fuck me,” I panted into his mouth. “Please just -”

I didn’t get to finish what I was saying as he pushed himself into me fully in one go, making me scream. His hand pressed against my mouth, muffling the noises I was making. “Do you want to wake the whole hotel up?” He asked as he began thrusting, pulling himself out until only the tic was still in me and then forcefully pushing back in again. “Some people came here to sleep, not to listen to you moaning like a whore on my cock.”

His other hand went between us to rub my clit. I was practically sobbing as he worked his fingers in fast circles around my clit while roughly thrusting into me. My vision was blurred with tears that were spilling from the corners on my eyes.

Oscar’s hand moved only a little, leaving room for me to speak but close enough for my lips to brush against his palm with each word. “Cum,” I babbled. “Gonna cum! Oscar, please!”

“Yeah?” He asked, his voice hoarse. “Gonna cum for me like a good little slut? Go on then - cum”

I came with a moan, wrapping my legs around his waist and caging him in. Oscar fucked me trough my orgasm, his own following. He twitched inside of me before cumming, painting my walls and making me whine at how full I felt.

He pulled out of me slowly and went to the bathroom to clean himself up. After a moment he returned with a wet, probably warm, towel in his hands. He kneeled on the bed and gently spread my legs with his hands.

“Fuck,” Oscar groaned. “I love watching my cum leak out of your pussy.” His fingers dipped to collect some of his cum which had spilled out of me and was slowly dripping towards my ass, and pushed it back into me, causing me to gasp.

He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my forehead and somehow my cheeks burned ever hotter. After he gently cleaned me up and terrorized me to drink water, he laid down in bed next to me and pulled my body into his, arms wrapping around me.

“Are you finally going to let me take you out to dinner?” He asked, his voice husky and breath hot against the side of my face.

I hummed, my eyes barely open and already feeling sleepy. “Don’t crash into me while I’m winning on Sunday and we’ll see.”

“That was one time!”

I chuckled, placing my hands over his hand on my stomach. “Yeah, I’ll let you take me out to dinner.”

Believe it or not this might have actually turned out to be one of the best nights of my life.

[just-aake]

Widow’s Charm

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Natasha finds herself falling for Tony’s new lab assistant and weapons technician.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 3322

Natasha walks down the hallway towards Tony’s lab, holding her widow bite gauntlets in her hand. Typically, she would have just sent them down to be repaired, but an unexpected mission came up which means she needs them fixed sooner rather than later. Reaching the entrance of the lab, the doors slide open for her as she enters.

“Hey Tony, can you fix–,” Natasha stops when she notices someone else working in the lab.

You look up from your work table at the new voice in the room and see the Black Widow staring at you curiously. You have been working at the Avenger’s Compound as the new weapons technician as well as Tony’s lab assistant for the past few months. 

Since then, you’ve met all of the other Avengers already except for the mysterious Black Widow, though you have repaired some of her equipment that she had sent down previously. 

Tony tells you that she prefers to keep to herself, which you can understand. You settled with the fact that you may never meet her in person, so it is a small shock to see her standing in front of you.

Putting down your tools, you wipe your hands on your apron and walk over to her. Extending your hand to her, you give her a polite smile as you introduce yourself.

“Hello, my name is Y/n L/n. I’m the new weapons technician and Mr. Stark’s assistant in the lab. How can I help, Ms. Romanoff?” 

A small surprised smile forms on Natasha’s face at your words. Intrigued to learn more about you, she raises her hand to yours in greeting.

“Hi, you can just call me Nata–.” 

“No, no, no!” A voice yells from down the halls outside of the lab.

Tony comes rushing into the lab, breathing heavily. Looking around frantically, his eyes widen at the two of you. He rushes over to you quickly, grabbing you by the shoulders, and pushing you away from Natasha and out into the hallway. 

“I need you to go get the thing from Pepper,” he tells you.

“What thing?” you ask in confusion as you turn back around to him.

He gives you a brief wave before pressing the button on the side, shutting the lab doors in your face.

For a moment, Tony remains standing by the door, tensed as he purposely avoid looking at Natasha. Then, in the next second, his entire body suddenly relaxes, and he moves casually over to his workstation. 

“FRIDAY, what’s the plan for today?” Tony asks.

“The parts for the new repulsors arrived today, sir,” the AI voice replies.

“Great, get those plans pulled up for me, will you?”

Natasha blinks at the lab doors as she tries to process what just happened. She turns to Tony, looking for an explanation.

“What the hell was that Tony?” she exclaims.

Tony looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

“What was what?”

“You just suddenly pushed Y/n out of the room.”

Tony's mouth presses into a tight line as he gives her a confused look. “Never heard of her. Was there somebody here FRIDAY?”

“No, sir.” 

Tony nods back at her with a satisfied look.

Crossing her arms, Natasha was about to argue when the lab doors opened up again. 

Pepper walks into the room towards Tony.

“Y/n said you told her to get a ‘thing’ from me?”

Tony lets out a groan as he hangs his head. Sighing, he gestures to Natasha.

“Y/n met Natasha.” 

Pepper lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Really, Tony? We talked about this. You can’t place all the blame on her.”

Natasha raises her hands to get their attention. “Can somebody please explain to me what’s going on?”

Pepper turns to her, a small apologetic look on her face.

“Tony thinks you are the reason why his assistants keep quitting.”

Natasha frowns at the accusation. “How is that my fault?”

Tony scoffs in disbelief. “FRIDAY, pull up the timeline.” 

A holographic screen pops up between them showing the past year with certain dates highlighted. Tony points to one of the earliest dates in the year. 

“Avery Grayson. She met you on her second day on the job. A week later she asks you out but you decline. She turns in her resignation the following week.”

Natasha raises her eyebrows at the information.

“That doesn’t prove—“ 

Tony interrupts her, “Quinn Turner. She confesses to you a month after your first interaction. Gets turned down too and then quits three days later.”

Tony brings up the two most recent dates.

“Same thing with Riley and Harper. It’s a pattern. They meet you, fall for you, get rejected, and then quit.”

Natasha looks over at Pepper, silently asking if he was serious. In response, Pepper gives her a resigned nod as she rubs her head tiredly.

Tony gets her attention when he points at her accusingly.

“Do you know how hard it is to find competent people who know how to handle this level of equipment?”

Natasha lets out a huff of disbelief, crossing her arms. She remembers his previous assistants. To be honest, most of her interactions with them were completely professional. She didn’t get close to any of them personally or showed any romantic interest, which made each of the confessions surprising to her. 

Still, this doesn’t explain what he was trying to do with you. She raises her eyebrow at him.

“So your plan was to what? Hide your new assistant from me forever?”

“Not forever. Just until I can find someone for her so that she doesn’t fall for you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at his ridiculousness. Focusing back on her original intention, she places her widow bite gauntlets on the work table.

“Can you just fix these for me? I have a mission in a few hours.”

“Fine, but you stay away from my assistant,” he warns.

Natasha heads toward the exit and waves her hand, dismissing his words. It’s not like she intends to make you fall for her, but she has to admit that she is interested to learn more about you. 

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

You look up from your sketches at the sound of the lab door opening and see the Black Widow stroll into the room. You give her a smile in greeting.

“Welcome back, Ms. Romanoff. Are you looking for Mr. Stark?”

She walks over to your workspace, leaning slightly against the table as she looks at you.

“Actually, I was coming to see you, and you can just call me Natasha. We got interrupted the last time we met.”

Nodding your head, you laugh softly at the memory.

“Pepper explained to me what that was about.” You give her a teasing suspicious look. “So are you here to make me fall for you?”

Natasha gives you an amused smile. Most people don’t usually get comfortable around her so quickly. 

“Only if you want to,” she says nonchalantly.

You chuckle at her response.

“Unfortunately, you won’t be hearing a confession from me soon. I like my job here.” 

Natasha feels a tinge of disappointment at your words, her smile dropping slightly. You don’t notice though since your attention had drifted to the widow bite gauntlets on her wrists.

“Speaking of, did you want me to take a look at that?” You can see that there was some damage from a fight probably during her recent mission.

Glancing down, Natasha shrugs. “I can do it later myself.”

“Well, that explains why I don’t see your stuff across my desk that often.” You raise your hand out to her anyway.

She stares at you curiously before slowly placing her hand in yours.

You let out a small laugh at her action. “This is nice, but I actually want the gauntlets.” You hold her hand gently in yours before turning it around to reach the clasp on the weapon.

Natasha tilts her head as she observes you. You were focused but gentle as you worked, and you didn’t show any signs that you were intimidated by who she was. In fact, you were pretty cute as you scrunch your face in concentration. She decides to tease you a little.

“You know, I don’t usually let people take things off my body until at least the second date.”

You remove the second gauntlet from her other wrist with a start before you see the teasing smirk on her face. You let out a small huff before refocusing your attention on your table.

“I see what Mr. Stark means when he said you were charming.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Oh? And what else did he tell you about me?”

“That you didn’t like meeting new people, though now I think that may have been a lie.”

Natasha shrugs before leaning in a little closer to you.

“It’s sort of true. I just prefer to meet people that I’m interested in.”

You turn away from her to hide the smile on your face, pretending to look for some tools. 

The lab doors slide open as Tony walks in while reading the tablet in his hand. Looking up, he sighs sadly when he sees Natasha next to you.

“Did she get to you already?”

You give him a reassuring look. “No confessions from me. Natasha just needed some things fixed.”

Tony stares at the two of you doubtfully before pointing to Natasha.

“Don’t you have reports to do or something?”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha stands to leave. She turns to you with a soft smile.

“I’ll come visit more often now that I know you exist.”

You bite your lips to hide your smile as you watch her leave. 

As Natasha exits the lab, she hears Tony’s voice call out.

“FRIDAY, can you restrict her access to the lab?”

“I’m afraid Ms. Potts has already denied that request, sir.”

Natasha smirks at the AI response. She should get something for Pepper later as thanks.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

As she said, over the following weeks, Natasha visits you often in the lab. Sometimes with some equipment that needed to be fixed. Other times just to talk. Later, when she finds out that you usually eat your lunch in the lab, she would also join you if she had the time. 

You look up when you hear the doors open, already knowing who to expect. Natasha walks in, waving the take-out bag in her hands.

You groan in relief at the sight of her. “You are a lifesaver.” 

You stand and grab the food from her eagerly before moving it to an area where the two of you can eat.

Natasha sits on the edge of your work table as she watches you set out the food.

“Well, I know how you get absorbed into your work and forget to eat,” she tells you knowingly.

Her eyes glance at the papers on your desk that you were previously working on. Most of them had rough sketches of designs for some of the equipment of the other Avengers. Her name on one paper catches her attention. Picking it up, Natasha examines the details curiously. 

At the sudden silence, you glance up at her. You do a double take when you realize what she was looking at.

Over time, as you worked on her equipment, you’ve noticed that her current suit’s belt doesn’t hold much ammo or gadgets, so you had sketched some ideas that you had for her.

“That’s just some ideas of some upgrades that I had. It’s not really anything worth looking at.” 

Natasha shakes her head in disagreement before handing the paper back to you.

“I like it. I’m sure Tony will get you the parts that you would need if you want to work on it.”

“Really?” you ask her, astonished.

She nods at you reassuringly before pushing you back towards the food.

“We can discuss it later, but first, let’s eat.”

A few weeks later, you completed your first prototype, and you were excited to show Natasha and test it out.

Natasha admires the new belt on the table. It was still slim and compact, but she can see where you had added extra slots for her weapons. You also included her signature red symbol on the buckle.

You were practically buzzing with excitement.

“I just need to see if there needs to be any more adjustments with the sizing.”

Without thinking, you grab her hand to pull her closer to you. You move quickly as you remove her current belt. Taking the new belt, your hands wrap around her waist as you grab one end before bringing it to her front and snapping it into place. You fidget with the belt, checking for any snags or looseness, totally absorbed in your work. 

Natasha’s initial surprised expression melts into an amused and fond look on her face as she watches you. You were adorable when you concentrated on your work, and honestly, she’s not sure how much longer she can hold in her feelings for you.

After performing your final checks and detailing little changes that needed to be adjusted, you suddenly froze when you realized Natasha hadn’t said a word since you started. 

Your eyes widened, mortified when you see your current position. Your body had moved closer to Natasha’s when you were making adjustments. One of your hands was still placed atop the belt while the other was resting against her stomach, and you could feel her toned body underneath your hand. You swallow nervously as you look up at her.

She tilts her head at you as you continue to stare at her.

“Everything okay?”

The closeness between your bodies was making it hard for you to think. Eventually, you were able to get your brain to function enough to respond.

“Yeah…all good.” You unconsciously lick your lips out of embarrassment.

You see Natasha's eyes flick down to your mouth at the action, and you feel your face heat up even more. You should definitely step away from her now. As you go to move, Natasha’s next words causes you to stop in surprise.

“Would you like to go out with me?”

Your eyes widen at her question, and you see a hopeful expression on her face as she waits for your response. Instinctively, you want to say ‘yes’ and close the distance between you two, but you stop yourself, hesistating. 

Natasha sees the conflicting feelings on your face, so she decides to ease the pressure a little with some teasing. 

“You know, according to Tony’s theory, since I’m the one who confessed, a rejection would mean that I would need to quit my job.”

You can't help but laugh at her reasoning before giving her a playful smile, teasing back. 

“Well, we can’t have the Black Widow quitting over a failed confession.”

Natasha places her hands on your waist, pulling you in closer. She tilts her head at you in question.

“I haven’t failed yet. Technically, you never gave me an answer.”

You move your arms to wrap around the back of her neck as you pretend to think about your decision.

“So I still get to keep my job?”

Natasha nods reassuringly. “For however long you can stand working with Tony’s ego.”

You give her a fond smile.

“Then yes, I would love to go out with you.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Tony was throwing you a party to celebrate your first anniversary since working with the Avengers and him, even though you insisted that it wasn’t necessary. He disagrees, saying how nobody has lasted this long, so you relented.

Naturally, you went with Natasha as your date since you have been dating her for several months already. The only problem is that you forgot to update Tony about your new relationship.

When the two of you enter the party, Natasha leans down and whispers next to your ear, “I’ll go get us something to drink.”

With a light touch against your back, she walks away toward the bar. 

You are lost in your thoughts as you admire her walk away, so you are startled when Tony slides in front of you, excitement in his eyes.

“Y/n! Good, I found you.”

You smile at him, used to his frantic energy by now.

“Hello, Mr. Stark, was there something that you needed?”

He waves his hand dismissively at you.

“This party is for you, and you’ve been working with me for a year now. I’ve told you to just call me Tony.” 

You give him an apologetic look before asking him curiously.

“You said you were looking for me?”

Tony claps his hands at the reminder.

“Yes, I want you to meet someone. She’s a nice person, has a great personality, and she works as a pilot.”

You raise your hand to try and stop him. “I already have some—“

“Oh, here she is!”

You give him a tight smile as the woman approaches the two of you. Tony pats you on the back in encouragement, turning to leave.

“Alright, I’ll leave the two of you alone.”

“Wait, Tony—,“ you try to stop him, but he rushes away. Turning back to the woman, you give her a polite smile as she introduces herself.

Meanwhile, Natasha was standing at the bar, waiting for your drinks.

“I am the greatest boss ever,” Tony exclaims, sliding in next to her.

Natasha rolls her eyes at his words. Deciding to indulge him while she waits, she asks him to explain.

“How’s that?”

“I just found the perfect date for our favorite weapons techie.”

Natasha frowns when she realizes what he said. Turning around to look at where she left you, she sees that you were currently talking with a beautiful woman. 

Her posture relaxes when she reads your body language. You had a polite smile on your face as you listened to the woman, but she could see how tense your body was, and your hand at your side kept fidgeting with your dress. 

“Now I don’t have to worry about her falling for you,” Tony says smugly.

“No, we wouldn’t want that,” Natasha smirks as she turns back around to grab the drinks that the bartender just placed in front of her. 

Tony notices the two drinks in her hands and raises his eyebrows at her.

“You have a date?”

“Girlfriend.”

Without explaining further, she heads back toward you. By the time Natasha reaches you, the other woman was already turning to leave, nodding at Natasha in acknowledgment. 

You let out a breath of relief as Natasha comes back to your side. Thankfully, the woman was understanding when you explained the situation to her. 

Natasha hands you your drink as she returns her hand around your waist, pulling you against her. She sighs in disappointment as she watches the woman leave.

“Here I thought I had the chance to be a hero and save you.”

You give her a teasing smile. “Maybe next time.” 

Natasha presses a soft kiss to your lips in response before pulling away.

You tilt your head curiously at her. “What was that for?”

Natasha gives you an affectionate look.

“First, because I love you.” 

Her expression shifts into a smirk.

“Second, is Tony freaking out?”

You look over her shoulders at the bar and see Tony gaping at the two of you, pointing accusingly at Natasha while Pepper holds him back from rushing over.

You turn back to her, giving her an amused look.

“He’s going to lock you out again.”

Natasha just shrugs, unbothered. “He can’t keep me away from you.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively at you. “He also can’t stop you from visiting me in my room during your breaks.”

You push her lightly before bringing her face close for a kiss.

When you accepted this job, you never thought you would end up in a relationship with the Black Widow. Then again you never imagine that she would end up falling for you.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

[alastor-simp]

“I Won’t Ever Be Scared Of You” - Alastor x Female Reader

❥Summary: Alastor transforms into his demon form to defend the hotel. He promised himself he would never reveal that side of himself to you, but what happens when you do see it?

❥Tags: Sequel, Alastor x Fem Reader, Unafraid Reader, Alastor Demon Form, Hazbin Hotel Episode 5, Dad Beat Dad Episode, Mimzy, Lucifer Morningstar, Confessions, Friends to Lovers.

❥Notes: This is the sequel to a previous story I had written "I See No Fear In Your Eyes." I really wanted to do a bit of a continuation on how the story ended, so I conjured this up. This also takes placed during episode 5 (Dad Beat Dad) of Hazbin Hotel. Hope you all like it. Enjoy:)

Sequel to this fanfic I wrote - Link

"LETS GO EVERYONE!!! WE GOTTA MAKE THIS PLACE PERFECT FOR WHEN MY DAD GETS HERE!!" Charlies voice rang out in the lobby, as everyone scattered about, preparing for when the king of hell arrived. Husk and Niffty started to sweep up while Sir Pentious helped to bake cookies for everyone and Lucifer. You decided to help string up some welcoming decorations around the higher part of the wall, as well as place a "Welcome" sign for the king to see when he arrived. You had never met Charlies dad before, sparking your curiosity on what he was like.

Your thoughts were cut off by loud static surrounding you, making you turn to see Alastor next to you, eyes monitoring the door with a strong hatred, demonic symbols floating above him. What's up with him? Finishing what you were doing, you walked closer to Al and gave him a bit of a poke on his side. His eyes quickly flashed towards you in anger, until he realized it was only you, which calmed him down. Ever since the confession you had at his radio tower about why you didn't fear him, your relationship with him had grown. His mannerisms were still the same, but he had adopted a softer, sweeter demeanor when he was around you, even allowing you to touch him on certain accusations. You still hadn't figured what to call this relationship you now had with Al. Affectionate friends or very close partners? It wasn't romantic per say, but it still left you a bit confused. "Oh, Hello my dear! Something troubling you?" Alastor tilted his head at you, eyes growing soft at the sight of you. "I should be asking you that. Whats with the sudden power surge? Are you angry about something?" Alastor froze for a moment, hands grasping at his microphone a bit tightly before turning to gaze back at the door. "No." Alastor said it quickly, but you can tell he wasn't being truthful. "Do you dislike Lucifer?" You asked him with a tilt of your head, copying him. Alastor remained silent before he gave a loud sigh. "I'm not very fond of him, my dear. He is the ruler of hell, with tremendous power, and yet he hides himself away and refuses to accept his responsibilities."

His eyes had turned into radio dials, for a split second before calming down, yet his smile was widen enough to reveal his black gums. Giving a sigh, you motioned to grab one of Alastor's hands that was still holding his microphone tightly, giving it a soft squeeze, causing Al to look at you with confusion. "Look, this is important to Charlie, and she needs to ask her dad for help with heaven. I'm not telling you to all of a sudden change your view on him, but please try to behave a bit. Just for today, please?" Alastor's eyes continued to stare at you, before he closed them and opened them again with softness. He could never refuse those kind eyes of yours. "Alright, my dear. Its a deal!" He said, jokingly, making you laugh. "Thanks Al." You gave his hand, another squeeze before letting it go, going back to setting up.

Fast forwarding to now, you watched as both Alastor and Lucifer were having a "I'm the better dad" song battle for Charlie. Welp, you tried. You knew Al had tried his best, but after a couple insults between the two, the deal you had with him completely broke, honestly it was shocking to hear Alastor say "F✪✪k you" since he has almost never swore ever, since he arrived at the hotel. The song fight continued on, until it was interrupted by a short chubby demon, who came badgering inside the hotel. She quickly introduced herself as Mimzy, one of Alastor close friends, and also being a singer at a club she ran. She started chatting with everyone at the hotel, indulging herself in the liquor that was at the bar, it was surprising how much she could drink. You noticed that some of the liquor supply was getting low, so you thought it would be best to get some more, since everything had calmed down a bit. You had pulled Charlie to the side, letting her know that you were going out for a bit to get some more alcohol for the bar, which she nodded at, giving you a thumbs up before she run back over to chat with her dad. Grabbing your wallet, you ventured out the hotel, looking back to see the others listening to Mimzy chatting about before you went outside and shut the door.

*Few Hours Later*

"MIMZY!! WE KNOW YOUR IN THERE, YOU LOUSY BIT✪✪!". A voice rang out as a loud bang was heard from the other side of the hotel doors, causing the hotel to shake. A group of loan sharks had arrived at the hotel, heavily armed with weapons and attempting to break down the hotel doors with a battering ram. The residents of the hotel began to panic as large fireballs were crashing through the windows, nearly hitting them and causing large shards of glass to scatter everywhere. Vaggie had quickly grabbed her spear, ready to fight the loan sharks, until a hand was place on her weapon, causing her to lower it. "No, my dear, leave it to me. It's time I remind everyone why I am h̨̭̹̠̍̚e̷͑ͥr͉͢͝ȩ̬̤̺̇ͮ̕."

The air inside the hotel began to change, as the static started to get louder. Alastors eyes had turned demonic and a green aura began to cover the whole hotel. Dark tendrils had materialized from Alastors back, allowing him to levitate into the air. "A reminder to all, ŇØŦ ŦØ Μ€ŞŞ ŴƗŦĦ ŦĦ€ ŘΔĐƗØ Đ€ΜØŇ!" Belting out an evil cackle, the tendrils had bursted out of the hotel, destroying the catapult, and crushing the loan sharks into bloody puddles. Growing into a monstrous height, Alastor emerged out of the hotel doors, horns growing in size as well as his eyes turning into radio dials and multiple tentacles protruding from his back; "Ɨ ŴƗŁŁ Đ€VØỮŘ €ΔĆĦ ΔŇĐ €V€Ř¥ ØŇ€ Ø₣ ¥ØỮ!

*Alastor POV*

"Oh how much I have missed this!" Alastor thought to himself, as he massacred the loan sharks that were scattered outside the hotel, running for their lives to escape his deadly clutches. It was futile, as no one comes into the radio demons territory and gets away with it. Scanning his eyes for more prey, he held one of the poor souls in his hand before dropping him in his jaws. "Hmm not quite as tasty as venison, but who could resist fresh sushi!" Alastor thought, as he cackled away, his tentacles continued to tear apart the loan sharks to pieces, organs and blood scattering the ground. The screams soon stopped and the only sound that could be heard was overwhelming static and monstrous growls, as glowing bright eyes scanned all over, making sure all of the annoying pests were disposed of. "Al?" a soft voice had come from below him, making him freeze in shock. Turning around in his gigantic form, his eyes casted down, spotting you, gazing up at him with wide eyes, mouth opened into a perfect O shape.

"Oh no! Oh no no no no no! She wasn't meant to see this! She wasn't meant to see this grotesque part of me!" His thoughts were scattering, feeling fear for the first time. Alastor remembered when he promised himself that he would never have you see his true demonic form, fearing that once you saw how he looked, the eyes that you gave him that held no fear, would be no more. A sinner as sweet as you, who confessed to him about everything that you admired about him to his face, shouldn't have to see this. Alastor didn't know what to do and quickly turned away from you, ashamed at himself, until he heard a "Wow!" from behind him

*Your POV*

"WOAHHH HE'S SO TALL!" Your mind was racing with many thoughts, as you walked closer to Al, putting the bag of alcohol bottles down on the ground. "Holy crap, you got very big. Can you hear me from up there Al?" You raised your voice up a bit louder, figuring Al couldn't hear you since he was almost the size of the hotel now. Alastor slowly turned back around, with his radio dial eyes still present, but they looked at you with slight concern. Alastor had bent down a bit, trying to get closer to you, but keeping a good distance as he worried it would startle you. "Đ؀ޅ.ĐØ€Ş ŦĦƗŞ ŞƗĐ€ Ø₣ Μ€ ŇØŦ ₣ŘƗǤĦŦҀР¥ØỮ, Μ¥ Đ€ΔŘ? His voice was booming, possible due to being in his demonic form, but it was softer then when he was munching on the loan sharks. Gazing up at Al with confusion, you asked him why would you be frightened. Alastor had closed his eyes, turning his head to face away from you; "Ɨ ΜΔĐ€ Δ ƤŘØΜƗŞ€ ŦØ Μ¥Ş€Ł₣ ŦĦΔŦ ¥ØỮ Ŵ€Ř€ ŦØ Ň€V€Ř Ş€€ ŦĦƗŞ ŞƗĐ€ Ø₣ Μ€"

Narrowing your eyes at him , you let out a huff, before walking closer to him. "Pick me up." Alastor turned back around in shock, not expecting you to say that. After some hesitation, Alastor placed one of his large hands down in front of you, allowing you to step on to it. Holding on to one of his large fingers, you allowed him to hoist you up, becoming eye level now. Once you were eye to eye with him, you crooked your finger at him, telling him to move closer. Alastor hesitated again before moving his head closer towards you, his forehead and eyes being extremely close to you. Reaching one of your hands up, you placed it on his forehead, before moving closer and pressing a soft kiss on it. Alastor eyes had widen at your actions, but he didn't move from his position, as you continued to pepper kisses on his forehead. Removing your lips, you nuzzled your forehead against his, "Alastor, I told you before that I would never grow to fear you. Whatever form you take, I will never be afraid of you." Stepping back, you gazed into his bright eyes, lips drew into a soft smile.

Crimson dial eyes remained locked on you, as they slowly closed. A chuckle was heard from Al, as he shook his head from side to side, before moving closer to you, placing his forehead back against yours softly. "Darling, what a wonder you are." His voice had returned to normal, no ounce of static etched in it. The two of you remained in that position, before Alastor had pulled away, bright eyes peering at you with admiration. "As much as I love this form of yours, it would be better if you shrunk back down, especially since you won't be able to fit through the doors." You said with a laugh, earning you a loud booming laugh from Alastor, as his whole being shook, having to hold on to his fingers to steady yourself. "I suppose your right." Alastor said, as he slowly brought his hand back to the ground, allowing you to jump off his hand.

Your eyes continued to gaze at him, as his body slowly began to shrink, eyes returning back to normal slits, and large tentacles disappearing from his back. He was soon back to his old self, rubbing parts of his suit to be rid of any dirt or grime. His joker-like smile was still trained on you, but it was full of tenderness, as he look down at you. "There he is, the handsome devilish radio demon is back!" Smiling brightly at him, you placed your hand against his cheek, giving it a soft rub. Alastor gave you a genuine smile, grabbing your hand from his cheek and placing a soft kiss on to it. Releasing your hand, his arms had wrapped around your back, pulling you into a soft hug, his head moving closer to your neck, giving it a nuzzle, making you giggle at the ticklish sensation. The sweet moment was interrupted by the sound of clapping behind the both of you. Looking ahead, you saw Mimzy approaching, a bit of a smirk on her face. "Oh Alastor! What a fantastic show! Bravo! As always. Thanks for helpin' lil' old me out of a tough spot, you're always such a pal!" Her dialogue got cut off, as some debris from the hotel fell next to her, making her jump a bit in shock. Appearing unapologetic, she looked back at the two of you, "Oops. Heheheh… sorry about the mess, but I'm sure the lil' bug can take care of it for ya."

Alastor had loosened the hug, turning all the way around, but not before hooking his arm with yours, keeping you close to him. His smile was still stretched out as always, but his eyes held irritation. "I think you should go, Mimzy. Now." He said towards Mimzy, stunning her for a bit. "Oh pff, Alastor, you're such a kidder, you! Haha, you are so funny!" She flicked her hand at him, not taking him seriously, but you knew that expression he wore, he was not in a joking mood, his eyes lacking mischief. "I mean it. You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess. I can't have that here." He had pulled you a bit closer, as he continued to talk with Mimzy, clearly telling her to f✪✪k off. She apparently did not take the hint, as she continue to ramble on, "But you love takin' care a' me! What? You don't actually give a shit about this tacky place, do ya? Come on. I know you. you heartless son of a bi✪✪h~" Her finger continued to poke at his chest, causing him to let out a small growl.

Grabbing her finger from his chest, you pushed it off him, glaring down at her. "I believe he told you to leave." Mimzy did not appreciate you touching her and scoffed at you. "And who the hell are you dollface?" Wow, she even forgot who you were, and she literally just met you a few hours ago, when she barged in. "I'm the one who knows and sees the real Alastor, and doesn't try to exploit him to get out of sticky situations." Alastor eyes had widen at your words, a bit shocked at this fiery side of yours. Mimzy had backed up a bit, not expecting that: "Well I-" "Did I stutter? Leave!" Your words had cut her off, as you continued to glare down at her. Huffing while stomping her feet, she walked past the both of you: "Well fine! Who needs ya!" She continued to stomp away, not before flipping the both of you off.

You continued to glare at her when she walked away, before you got distracted by the sound of static-filled laugther next to you. "My my~ Who knew you were such a firecracker, my dear." Al had unhooked his arm from yours, but he wrapped it around your back pulling you closer. You gazed up at Al, who was smirking down at you, making you flush a bit. "You weren't meant to see that, I'm sorry." Your head dropped down in shame, until a hand had hooked your chin, motioning your head to look back up at him. "I quite like it, ma chérie. Just as you love the many sides of me, I very much enjoy this feisty side of you." His finger had traced your bottom lip, his crimson eyes filled with a strong desire as well as adoration. Inching closer, his lips had placed itself against your redden cheek, causing your heart to skip a beat. Pulling back, his smile was gentle, before he stood back to his regular height, his hand moving from your back to one of your open palms, interlocking your fingers. "Come along, my dear. We better head back inside!" He pulled you along, having you walk next to him, as you made your way back towards the hotel. He had snapped his fingers, using his powers to have the bag of liquor levitate behind the both of you. His hand was so warm. You gave his hand a gentle squeeze, which he reciprocated back as you both went back inside to join the others.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

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@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

@daydream-the-demon , @cosmiccoralz @aconstructofamind

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful ,

[thedensworld]

Work Stressed | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: comedy, fluff

Summary: Working with your best friend is stressful and Jeonghan will tell you why.

"Where is she?!" Jeonghan slammed his fist onto the desk, eyes burning with frustration as he stared at the article on his screen. One of his artists, you, was now being implicated in a vandalism case in Hongdae. Your photo—blurry but unmistakable—was plastered all over the page, showing you running with a group of culprits. How had this happened?

"She's on her way here, sir," his secretary said quietly, sensing his fury.

Jeonghan massaged his temples, trying to quell the growing headache. Just yesterday, a paparazzi had caught you napping on a park bench, forcing him to pay off a tabloid to kill the story—especially with your drama currently on air. Now this? Vandalism in Hongdae? The timing couldn't have been worse.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath.

Right on cue, you strolled into his office, a bright smile on your face as if nothing had happened. "Hello! I got you coffee," you chirped, holding up a cup like it was some kind of peace offering.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. He pointed sharply to the couch. "Sit."

You blinked but complied, casually dropping onto the plush seat as if you were here for a friendly chat. Jeonghan motioned for everyone to leave the room—your manager, his secretary, all of them filed out without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

"What's it this time?" you asked, unfazed, already knowing you were the problem child of the company. You leaned back, taking a slow sip of your coffee, like this was just another Tuesday.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slammed the printed article down in front of you. “Read.”

You glanced at it briefly, then back up at him with a shrug. "I was just jogging," you said, completely nonchalant.

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed with disbelief. "Jogging?! How is my PR team supposed to spin that? Do you think the public is going to believe you were just out for a jog when you're literally pictured running from the scene with a gang of vandals?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes as if he were the one being unreasonable. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not part of any gang. It’s just a coincidence. Tell them that.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration. "It’s not that simple, darling. You don’t just explain away an article like this. Your reputation is on the line."

Leaning forward, you met his gaze, unbothered. “Doesn’t matter what I say. I’m always going to be the villain anyway, even when I’m telling the truth.”

That made him pause. As much as it frustrated him, you had a point. You were always honest—maybe tood honest—but no matter what you said, the media would find a way to twist it. They always did.

Jeonghan slumped back into his chair, exhaling heavily, his anger slowly deflating. "I'm sorry," he muttered, surprising even himself. "How are you, by the way? I heard you got injured during filming."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone. You nodded, pulling up your sleeve to reveal a deep scratch on your left arm. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a cut."

Jeonghan winced. "That’s going to leave a scar."

You smiled, unfazed. "Well, lucky for me, you’ve got plenty of money to fix that."

For the first time that morning, Jeonghan chuckled softly. "Yeah. You’re not wrong."

It had been 15 years since that fateful day in high school when Jeonghan accidentally kicked a soccer ball straight into your forehead. You had been the new kid in school, standing on the sidelines of the field, and Jeonghan's errant kick had made sure you were noticed. While you were clutching your head in pain, Jeonghan had rushed over, apologizing profusely. That was the beginning of your unlikely friendship.

At the time, you had just moved to Seoul for your acting debut, and Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, quickly became your first friend in the new school. He was the only one who didn’t treat you differently because of your budding fame, and soon, the dynamic shifted from classmates to something more like colleagues. You were juggling school and early acting roles, while Jeonghan was focusing on his studies—first as a regular student, but with a growing interest in business.

"Hey," Jeonghan had said one day after school, leaning against the lockers with that confident grin of his. "I’m going to start a label in the future. Do you want to be my actor?"

You had laughed at the time, but without hesitation, you responded, "Sure."

It was a simple promise made between two teenagers who didn’t quite know what the future held. You didn’t expect it to come true, but years later, after Jeonghan graduated with a degree in business and you had built up a name for yourself in the industry, the promise came back.

"Remember when you said you’d be my actor?" Jeonghan had asked one evening over drinks, his tone light but his expression serious.

And just like that, the promise from high school had become reality. Jeonghan had become your manager—a great one, too. He knew how to navigate the industry, protect your image, and push you to take on more challenging roles as your career advanced. He wasn’t just your manager—he was someone who knew you, who had been there from the start.

But in recent years, things had gotten complicated. As your fame grew, so did the pressure. The roles weren’t easy anymore, and neither were the scandals. Jeonghan spent more time putting out fires, like today’s vandalism case, and less time just being your friend.

He watched you now, still sipping your coffee like nothing had happened. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden behind that carefree exterior you always wore in public. And that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had pushed you too far.

Breaking the silence, Jeonghan leaned forward. "Do you ever think about... slowing down? Taking a break?"

You gave him a long, hard look, as if weighing the question carefully. "Are you suggesting I quit?" you asked, a small smirk playing on your lips, but there was an edge to your voice.

Jeonghan shook his head. "No, not quit. Just... rest. You've been running non-stop for years. You’ve earned a break."

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "And what would I do with a break? Stay home? Watch dramas I’m not in?"

"You could live," Jeonghan said softly, surprising even himself with how earnest he sounded. "You could live without the cameras, the articles, the public scrutiny—just for a little while."

You looked at him, searching his face for something. After a moment, you sighed. "Maybe. But I don't think the world would let me rest, even if I wanted to."

Jeonghan frowned but didn't argue. He knew you were probably right. You were too much of a public figure now. People always had their eyes on you, waiting for your next move, your next mistake.

"Still," Jeonghan said, "if you ever decide to take that break, I’ll be right here."

You smiled, genuinely this time. "Thanks. But we both know I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Jeonghan returned the smile, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "Yeah. I know."

*

Jeonghan was jolted awake by the shrill sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly. Groggily, he glanced at the clock—2 a.m. If this wasn’t something urgent, someone was getting fired. He dragged himself out of bed, confused and annoyed, and checked the intercom. His brows furrowed when he saw your face on the screen. Without hesitation, he buzzed you in.

Opening the door, he found you standing there, still dressed in full makeup, looking disheveled and slightly off-kilter. At first glance, you appeared drunk. Your new manager was standing awkwardly behind you, wearing a tight, apologetic smile.

"She insisted on coming here," your manager explained, his tone strained.

Jeonghan waved him off. "It’s okay, I’ll take it from here. You should go home and get some rest."

With a nod, the manager gratefully left, and Jeonghan turned his attention to you. He sighed, taking in your messy state. "Who did you get drunk with this time?" he asked, guiding you inside and sitting you down on the couch. He slipped off your jacket, his patience wearing thin.

But then you blinked, stretched out dramatically, and he noticed the telltale spark of mischief in your eyes. You weren't drunk at all—you were acting.

"I knew it!" Jeonghan groaned, throwing your jacket back at you as he slumped down on the opposite end of the couch. "What are you doing, disturbing my sleep at 2 a.m.? I have work tomorrow."

You giggled softly, bending down to untie your shoes. "Let me crash here for a few days," you said casually, propping your legs up on the couch as if it were already decided.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Get up, I’m driving you home." He reached out to pull your arm, trying to get you back on your feet.

"No!" You resisted, clinging to the couch. "I don’t want to go home."

He crossed his arms, leaning back and studying you. "Did something happen?" His voice softened with concern.

You avoided his gaze, biting your lip as if debating whether to tell him. Finally, you mumbled, "I haven’t been home in a week. I’m scared... Let me stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean, scared?" He grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back down when you tried to dash off to the guest room. "No, sit down and explain. What’s going on?"

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think someone’s been in my house… for the past week."

Jeonghan’s frown deepened. "What? How do you know?"

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. There was a picture—of you, taken from inside your house. It was grainy, but clearly snapped from within the confines of your own home.

Jeonghan’s expression darkened as he studied the photo. "And you’re just telling me this now? Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, but... the last time I went there, I heard someone chasing me, and I fell down the stairs."

He immediately reached for your arm, rolling up the sleeve to reveal the injury. "So this wasn’t from shooting, was it?" You shook your head again, and his worry only grew.

Jeonghan cursed under his breath. "That’s dangerous. Why didn’t you call the police?"

"I panicked," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t know what to do. My new manager doesn’t even know... He tried to take me home tonight, but when I saw the lights were on, I freaked out and asked him to bring me here instead."

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could see how shaken you were, though you were trying to keep it together. "You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself."

"I didn’t want to cause more trouble," you muttered, biting your lip. "I already feel like I’ve been a mess lately..."

"Hey," Jeonghan interrupted, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, his voice firm yet reassuring. "That’s alright. You did the right thing by coming here."

You looked up at him, visibly relieved by his words, and he could see just how exhausted you were—mentally and physically. He stood up, grabbing his phone from the table.

"You’re sleeping in my room tonight," he said. "The guest room’s full of my work stuff right now, and I’m not letting you sleep alone when someone’s been in your house."

Before you could protest, Jeonghan was already dialing the security company and setting up arrangements to keep you safe. You sat there, watching him take control of the situation, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

"Thank you," you whispered, as Jeonghan hung up the phone and turned back to you.

He smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Get some rest. You’ll be safe here."

And for the first time in days, you actually believed it.

*

"I didn't know you could cook," Jeonghan remarked, stepping into his home, greeted by the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal. The sight of you casually moving around in his kitchen was something he never thought he’d witness. In his mind, you were always more of a 'princess treatment' kind of girl, not someone who could navigate a kitchen so confidently.

"I’ve lived alone since high school. Of course I know how to cook," you replied, brushing off the surprise in his voice. You ushered him to change out of his work clothes and join you for dinner.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan sat down at the table, taking the first bite of your meal. His eyes widened in genuine appreciation. "Thanks for the meal. This is really good."

You smiled at the compliment. As he ate, Jeonghan’s expression grew more serious. "The police are investigating the stalker case. They’ve already found a few leads, so we should have more answers soon. As for the vandalism incident, we’ve sued the media for spreading disinformation. Hopefully, that’ll keep them in check."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I just don’t understand how anyone could believe I’d do something like that. Do I really seem like the kind of person who would join a vandalism gang?"

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. They’re just looking for a story."

The two of you finished dinner, and Jeonghan insisted on doing the dishes while you moved to the living room, scrolling through the script your manager had sent over. It wasn’t long before Jeonghan joined you, handing you a can of beer.

"What’s this one about?" he asked, gesturing to the script in your hands.

"A memorable one-night stand that ends up with the female lead discovering it was her boss," you replied, taking a sip from your can.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Koreans really love their one-night stand stories. Almost every drama seems to start like that these days."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Yeah, but this one’s different. The boss—the male lead—has actually been in love with her since high school. I know, it's a bit unrealistic, but the character development is solid."

Jeonghan smiled, understanding now why you’d taken the role. "Is that why you accepted the part?"

You nodded. "That, and let’s be honest, there are so many new rookies in the industry now. I can’t afford to be picky." You laughed, but there was a hint of truth behind your words.

Jeonghan picked up the script and skimmed through it. "Let me help you with practice," he offered, settling in beside you. He took on the role of the male lead, reading his lines with a surprising amount of intensity.

"Just because I’m your boss, doesn’t mean I can’t love you," Jeonghan read, his voice low and serious. "I’m also human. I have feelings. And I’ve told you before, I’ve liked you since high school. That feeling... it never stopped. It’s only grown, Y/N."

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own name coming from him. "That’s my name," you pointed out, half-joking but also feeling the odd shift in the air.

Jeonghan quickly cleared his throat, flustered. "I—I meant to say, Mina... the character’s name." His face flushed as he tried to recover.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the tension building between you. Suddenly, the room felt too small, too intimate. You hastily grabbed the script from his hands. "Practice is over," you said, tossing it onto the coffee table.

The atmosphere was heavy, the lines between your characters and your real relationship beginning to blur. You stood up quickly, needing to break the awkwardness. "Do you want ice cream? Or dessert? Maybe I should order pizza?"

Jeonghan bit his lip, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had messed up, and he knew it. That one slip, saying your name instead of the character’s, had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could uncross.

"Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds good," he muttered, watching you retreat to the kitchen, trying to put some distance between the moment that just passed. But the tension hung in the air, thick and undeniable. He wasn’t sure if either of you could pretend it hadn’t just happened.

*

"Are they following us?" Jeonghan's voice was tense, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds. You followed his gaze and immediately recognized the car tailing you both since you left the company.

"It's them," you whispered, dread settling in your chest. It was the stalker that had been eluding the police for weeks now, making your life a constant state of unease.

Jeonghan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "They must’ve been waiting for you," he muttered, a sharp edge to his tone as he pressed down on the accelerator, increasing the speed. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he kept glancing at you, noticing the panic on your face as you watched the car in the rearview mirror.

He let out a frustrated sigh before turning the car down an unexpected street. "Why are we turning left?" you asked, confusion lacing your voice.

Jeonghan shot you a determined look, the corner of his mouth curling slightly into a grin. "I'm giving them a little lesson," he said calmly, though there was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Your stomach dropped. "No..." you began, shaking your head in protest. "This could be dangerous, Jeonghan."

He only smirked as he turned the car down a narrow, dark alleyway, taking sharp turns that would easily confuse the car behind. Within moments, Jeonghan had maneuvered them into a tight corner, effectively trapping the stalker's car.

The car came to a screeching halt, and you let out a deep sigh, anxiety still buzzing through your veins. "This isn’t a good idea..." you whispered, but Jeonghan was already out of the car, his movements swift and purposeful.

You barely registered where the bat came from, but suddenly, Jeonghan had it gripped in his hand as he approached the stalker’s vehicle. Without hesitation, he swung the bat at the car’s door, the sound of metal denting beneath his force echoing in the quiet alley.

"I said, get out, you motherfucker!" Jeonghan’s voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the fear lingering in the air. You flinched at the sound, shocked by this side of him. He'd always been calm, composed, but tonight he was someone else entirely—fierce and protective.

The driver, a man, finally opened the door, trembling as he faced Jeonghan, who towered over him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Is this the guy who’s been following you, Y/n?" Jeonghan barked, his eyes flicking back to you for confirmation. You took a few steps forward, your breath catching in your throat as you recognized the man’s face, albeit obscured by the shadows. But you knew. It was him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone with trembling hands and dialing the police, your fingers moving on autopilot. Jeonghan didn’t wait. He grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground as he growled into his face, "If you ever come near her again, I swear to God—"

The man whimpered, too scared to even respond. Before anything more could happen, the flashing lights of the police illuminated the alleyway, casting long shadows as officers arrived on the scene. They quickly apprehended the stalker, securing him in handcuffs as you gave your statement to one of the officers.

As the police car drove away, Jeonghan stood there, still clutching the bat. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he turned back to you, the fierceness in his eyes softening into something more familiar, something more... him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice now low, filled with concern.

You nodded, still shaken but relieved. "Thank you, Jeonghan," you whispered, unsure of what else to say. He walked over to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his earlier anger dissipating into tenderness.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, "let's go home."

*

Despite everything that had happened recently, you refused to take a break. You continued cooperating with the ongoing investigation, all while managing to shoot your latest drama. With the media spotlight firmly fixed on your every move, you became the topic of discussion, whether it was for the stalking case, the vandalism rumors, or your work. It wasn't a surprise when some of your co-stars started showing subtle attitudes—jealousy or perhaps frustration, masked behind fake smiles.

One of them, a junior by two years, approached you between takes with a smug expression. She had once been part of the company before leaving two years ago. “Maybe you should give your company a break from all the scandals and trouble,” she said, her words dripping with passive aggression.

You didn’t miss a beat, flashing her a sharp grin. “Still worried about your ex who takes care of me better than you ever did?" you shot back, referencing Jeonghan, whom she had dated before leaving the company. Your words hit their mark, her face briefly betraying the sting before she turned and walked away.

Jeonghan’s words echoed in your mind: "Be bold. Don’t be nice to people who do you dirty." He had told you that during one of your darkest moments, when the pressure of rumors and whispers had almost broken you early in your career. Now, you carried that same attitude with you—while you were known as a bit scandalous, and people tried to paint you as a troublemaker, you had firm boundaries. And unlike some, you didn’t allow people to step over them. You had no problem telling them to back off, which often led to even more shade and misinformation thrown your way.

But no matter how hard they tried to tear you down, the public loved you. Your acting was brilliant, your roles brought to life in a way that others could only admire. And while you were often the target of rumors, at the end of the day, people couldn’t deny the fact that you were just a person trying to stay sane in the cutthroat world of entertainment.

“Good job, everyone!” the director called, signaling the end of the shoot. You thanked everyone on set as you wrapped up your work for the day. It was past 10 p.m., and exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Fortunately, today's shoot had been made more enjoyable by a surprise food truck sent by your former co-star, Jeon Wonwoo. The gesture had lifted the spirits of the entire crew.

As you gathered your things and bid goodbye to the team, you noticed a familiar figure walking toward you with a tired smile—Yoon Jeonghan.

“CEO Yoon!” people greeted him with respect as he approached, exchanging pleasantries with the crew. You overheard the director speaking with him.

“Are you here for Y/n?” the director asked, shaking hands with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression warm but focused. “Yes, is the shoot finished?”

You quickly grabbed your bag and approached the two of them. “Thank you for today, director,” you said, bowing politely.

The director smiled, nodding in return. “You did a great job today. Have a good evening, Y/n. You too, CEO Yoon.”

As the director walked away, Jeonghan turned to you with a soft smile. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, grateful for his presence after such a long and draining day. Even after all these years, Jeonghan’s presence had a way of grounding you—reminding you that no matter how chaotic things got, you always had someone in your corner.

“Hyejin talked to me today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence as Jeonghan drove you home.

“Shin Hyejin?” Jeonghan asked, glancing at you briefly.

You nodded. “Yep, your ‘ex’ who loves pampering me.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not an ex. We just met a few times back in the day.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shot him a playful look. “But she sure thought you two were dating.”

A heavy sigh escaped Jeonghan, followed by another chuckle. “I’m really sorry about that, then,” he said, amused at the absurdity of it all. “People see what they want to see, I guess.”

He changed the subject quickly, his voice light and teasing. “I noticed Jeon Wonwoo sent you a food truck today. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “We’re just friends, Jeonghan.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he quipped, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “He’s a great person. Kind, thoughtful, and sweet... but you know my problem.”

Jeonghan’s teasing smile faded, replaced with quiet understanding as his hand moved to rest gently on yours. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said softly, referring to your struggle with avoidant attachment. “There’s no rush. No need to worry. You’ve been through a lot, and you get to take your time.”

You appreciated the warmth in his words and the fact that he always seemed to know how to calm your anxieties. While people like Wonwoo were kind, it was Jeonghan’s constant presence and unwavering support that had always grounded you. You didn’t need to explain yourself around him. He just got you.

As the car cruised through the quiet streets, you found yourself lost in thought, staring out the window while Jeonghan’s steady presence filled the space next to you. The city lights blurred by, and you suddenly wondered, When did this happen?

When had Jeonghan become such an integral part of your life? It wasn’t just that he was your manager; it was the way he was always there—at every high and low, quietly supporting you, guiding you through the mess of the industry. You didn’t know when it had shifted, but at some point, he had surrounded your life fully. Every big decision, every major step, Jeonghan had been there, solid as ever.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was focused on the road, his face calm and composed, just like always. But you couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and confusion. How had he managed to be so deeply woven into the fabric of your life without you even realizing it?

His dedication to his work was something that had always amazed you. He wasn’t just a manager who worked the hours and did the minimum; Jeonghan breathed the industry. His passion was palpable, the way he fought for his artists, the way he handled crises with a cool head and quick thinking. Even when things were overwhelming, he never seemed to waver.

You had always admired that about him. It was part of why you never allowed yourself to rest, why you kept pushing yourself to be better. You wanted to prove to him—and maybe to yourself—that you were as passionate as he was, that you could match his fire. Sometimes you felt like you were chasing that, trying to live up to the standard he set, even if it wore you out.

But tonight, sitting next to him in the quiet hum of the car, you found yourself questioning more than just your career.

Was that all it was? Admiration? Dedication to your work?

Or was there something else? A deeper reason why you felt this way whenever you were around him. Why his opinion of you mattered so much. Why, when he placed his hand on yours earlier, you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a flutter of unease mixed with something you weren’t sure you wanted to name just yet. What am I feeling for him?

Jeonghan had always been your constant, but lately, that constant presence felt heavier. More significant. And the more you questioned it, the more confusing it became. You didn’t want to ruin things. Didn’t want to blur the lines between the professional and whatever this was growing between you. But could you keep pretending you didn’t feel it?

"Jeonghan?" you called softly, your voice almost uncertain.

He glanced at you, surprised by the tone in your voice. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. What am I supposed to say? The words were on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you forced a smile and shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning back to the window, your thoughts more tangled than ever.

Jeonghan didn’t press, but the question lingered in your mind long after the car ride was over.

*

Jeonghan shouldn’t have done that.

It was 9 a.m., and Jeonghan had his head buried in his hands at his desk, staring at the article that had just been published. Not just about you—but about both of you. His face might have been blurred in the pictures, but anyone with half a brain could tell it was him. The caption was vague, but the implications were clear: rumors of a secret relationship between you and him were already spreading like wildfire.

Why did I kiss her last night?

Jeonghan replayed the events over and over in his head, the regret gnawing at him like a bad headache. After driving you to your new place, the drive had been oddly quiet. Something had felt off, so he’d asked if everything was okay, checking on you a few times. You’d nodded, but your silence said otherwise.

When he’d parked and walked around to open the door for you, that’s when it happened.

“Jeonghan,” you’d called his name, standing in front of him with a look he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan had blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t sure what had prompted that, especially after teasing you about Wonwoo earlier. But what you said next stopped him cold.

“I think I like you.”

His breath had hitched. You... liked him? No, that couldn’t be right. After all these years? He could hardly believe it, and neither, it seemed, could you.

You quickly corrected yourself, shaking your head as if trying to sort through your own confusion. “No, I think it’s just admiration. But… I don’t know. Admiration can lead to liking someone, right? But I honestly don’t know.”

Jeonghan had stood frozen, staring into your eyes. He watched the way your expression shifted from uncertainty to something deeper, something vulnerable. And before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences, his gaze fell to your lips.

And he kissed you.

You weren’t drunk. Neither was he. You were both fully aware of what you were doing, yet Jeonghan still couldn’t fathom where he’d found the courage to close the gap between you after fifteen years of friendship. Why did you suddenly confess to him? Was it because you’d been living under his roof for the past few weeks? Had the proximity stirred something inside you?

Now, the aftermath was crashing down on him. He wasn’t just your friend—he was the CEO of a company with a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t afford to be entangled in a scandal like this, not with you at the center of it.

Jeonghan was snapped out of his thoughts by his secretary’s voice, pulling him back to reality.

“You can be honest with me, sir. Are you two dating?” she pressed, clearly curious. She was one of the few people who knew about the close bond between the two of you, and she had probably been speculating for a while.

Jeonghan sighed, avoiding the question. Instead, he asked, “Where is she?”

His voice softened instinctively when asking about you, something his secretary didn’t miss. She checked her phone, scrolling through messages. “Her manager said she just woke up and hasn’t seen any of this yet. Apparently, she left her phone somewhere…”

She paused, smirking slightly. “Somewhere in your car.”

Jeonghan waved her off, feeling a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let out a deep sigh. He needed to figure out what to do next—and fast.

An official statement would have to be released soon, but the bigger question remained: what was going to happen between the two of you now?

“Let’s just say we’re dating,” you blurted out, and Jeonghan immediately choked on nothing.

“We’re not dating,” he stated flatly, eyes wide in disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to date?”

The conversation had suddenly taken a sharp turn, the heat of the moment making it hard to think straight. Thankfully, no one was around to witness the embarrassment unfolding in Jeonghan’s office.

“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, panic lacing his voice.

“Why not?” You tilted your head, smirking slightly. “Are you suddenly chickening out after kissing me last night? Or do you kiss all your artists, Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan scowled, thoroughly offended by your accusation. “Is that what you think of me? Wow.”

You shook your head, teasing him more than you probably should. “No, but now I understand why Hyejin misunderstood things.”

Frustrated, Jeonghan threw his hands in the air. “Me and Hyejin were nothing, I told you.”

“Okay, but what about you and me?” you asked, voice softer, but your question hit harder than you’d intended.

Jeonghan’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say—it was that he was terrified. Scared that if he told you the truth, you’d run away from him.

I love you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing as he watched you grin in satisfaction. This woman...

“Please, consider everything before you speak. What about your fans? The shippers for your drama?” Jeonghan was grasping for any reason to keep things under control, even though the situation was spiraling fast.

You shrugged, entirely too nonchalant for his liking. “I don’t know. Let’s see their reaction then.”

Jeonghan crossed his arms and sighed, already feeling defeated. “Alright, fine. Let’s release a statement saying we’re dating—for now. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Your smile grew wider, head tilting as you gave him a look that made his heart race even faster.

“Jeonghan,” you said softly, catching his attention.

“What?”

“I don’t think I just like you.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his breath catching in his throat.

“I think I love you.”

He bit his inner cheek, feeling like he was about to lose his mind. This woman is going to be the death of me.

[hxzbinwrites]

Idk if you do headcanons or one shots but either or will be fine:

Can I pretty please get a Vox x Emotionless! Reader?

Plot can be whatever you want but just to (hopefully) give some ideas… maybe Vox had no interest in Reader but then uh oh she smiled! Now Vox has a crush (°▽°)

But yeah lol thank you!! Have a good day!

Vox x Emotionless! Reader | Lovestruck Fool |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Vox is a horrible boss

10:00am

(Y/n) walked into Vox’s office, holding an folder with today’s date and Vox’s name on it.

“Mr. Vox.” She said, her dead eyes watching her boss turn around in his excessively large chair.

“Hm, what is it (Y/n)?” He said, giving her a single glance before turning back to his monitors

“You have three meetings today sir. 1:00pm with Velvette in her portion of the tower. 2:30pm with Valentino in the main conference room, and someone scheduled a 4:00 with you, a Mr. Alastor? Called in today for an urgent meeting.”

Vox slammed his hands down on the desk, his face glitching in seething anger. “THAT PRICK!! CALL BACK AND TELL HIM I WILL NOT BE ATTENDING ANY SORT OF MEETING WITH HIM!!”

“He called from a public telephone sir, I can’t trace the caller ID.” (Y/n) said, clearly unfazed by his temper tantrum.

“DAMN IT!” He said, punching a smaller monitor on his right,”DONT YOU EVER LET HIM SCHEDULE ANOTHER MEETING WITH ME OR VOXTECH EVER AGAIN!!!”

Vox turned around, pointing one of his clawed fingers in your deadpanned face.

“Okay sir, is that all?”

“UGH!!” He said, clenching his fists to his side,”WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?? IM AN OVERLORD, I AM THE VOX, YOU SHOULD BE QUIVERING IN FEAR!! IM YELLING MY HEAD OFF AT YOU AND YOU CANT EVEN FORM AN EXPRESSION?? ARE YOU BRAINDEAD??”

(Y/n) slowly blinks, before looking down and rummaging through the folder she still held. “Ah, I almost forgot. Mr. Alastor requested his meeting also in the main conference room. If you need another reminder about your meetings today just call me-“

She was cut off once more by Vox, screaming and yelling, throwing things hazardously across the room. “JUST LEAVE.”

“Alright sir.” (Y/n) said, immediately turning away and walking towards the door.

————

4:45pm

(Y/n) was at her desk, taking calls and rearranging Vox’s schedule for tomorrow when her work phone buzzed.

“Hello? This is (Y/n) with Voxtech. How may I-“

“(Y/n). My office. Now.”

“Sir? This isn’t your work phone number? How can I be sure that this is-“

“MY OFFICE. NOW.”

(Y/n) could hear his voice glitching over the phone before she hung up, and briskly made her way to the door of his office.

She walked in to his Vox in his obnoxiously large chair, his hands covering his screen as he sighed in exhaustion.

“Ah, sir. You called me?”

“Yes (Y/n). I have installed safety features into your desk. Don’t except meetings from Alastor. If he comes in here, press the button under your monitor. He is NEVER allowed in this building.”

“Okay sir.” She said, making a note of that on her smartwatch,”Will that be all?”

“Can you get me a coffee…?”

“Right away sir.”

————

5:00pm

“Here’s your coffee sir.” (Y/n) said, setting it in his outreached hand.

“Thank you (Y/n)” He said, taking a single sip before doing a spit take. On one of the monitors around the city, it showed Velvette and Alastor chatting to one another.

“WHAT?!?” Vox yelled, being as “careful” as he usually is, his coffee flies into the air before landing on his shirt. He hissed in pain at the hit liquid, scrambling around before tripping on the various wires around his monitor setup (that was replaced after his previous temper tantrum) and landing on his ass.

Vox looked up in shock to see (Y/n) covering half of her mouth, revealing a smile. Tears brimmed her eyes as she tried to respectfully hold in her laughter.

Vox’s face felt red hot. Out of embarrassment and admiration. Why didn’t she smile more? Oh that smile, if she could remove her hand it would reveal its full glory. Let him soak it in. Her eyes filled with life and laughter. Has she always been this….beautiful? Yes, I think she has. She has indeed.

She let out a little snort before regaining her composure, before crouching down in front of him, taking the napkins provided with the coffee, and starting to wipe off as much of the liquid as possible. He felt her delicate hands rub across his chest. He hope she didn’t feel his erratic heartbeat.

He wanted this. He’s yearned for this and he didn’t even know it. Vox’s breathing became as erratic as his heartbeat, almost in sync. He felt sweat starting to drip, wether it be from the hot coffee adorning his now ruined shirt or from the stunning woman and her hands on his chest.

Trying to get as much as she could, (Y/n) scooted even closer, not realizing her hips were hovering right over his. Vox’s mind was running wild, his screen glitching and flicking between different error signals. His hands floating near the handles of her hips. Taking a gulp, he almost put his hands on her skin. Almost. He ended up just leaving his hands there, leaving a ghostly stabilization to the assistant who was cleaning him up like a toddler who spilt his apple juice.

(Y/n) looked up at Vox’s eyes, their eyes locking onto one another. A small smile could be faintly seen across her lips before it went back to its neutral state.

She helped him to his feet, her soft hands gently pulling on his clawed ones, slowly helping him to his feet. Handing him the remaining napkins. “I’ll schedule a trip to the dry cleaners. Does 3:45 tomorrow work well for you?”

Vox sat back down, his eyes wide in shock from what just happened. “Yeah, sure, whatever. I don’t care.”

“Alright sir, I’ll get that done, and then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay…”

(Y/n) walked out, the door closing behind her. Leaving the room back in it’s inky black darkness, with the exception of the glowing monitors.

Vox looked at his reflection in the main monitor. He could see his goofy smile. His blush adorning his cheeks. His eyes lighting up like a child who knows no sin. He looked like what he was, a lovestruck fool. A lovestruck fool for his assistant.

————

Word Count: 1006

(sorry it’s so short, i’m trying to get as many requests done as i can 😭)

[starboye]

The Cameron Boys

pairings: rafe cameron x male reader x ward cameron

summary: from this

warnings: smut, cheating, breeding

you moan out as rafe slams into you at a relentless lying quick pace "fuck rafe slow down" you moan out holding onto the bed tightly "c'mon baby I know you can take it" rafe whispers is your ear before laying a hard smack on your ass making you loudly moan.

"what if someone can hear us" you ask with a whimper "then let them listen to your sweet moans" rafe says kissing your cheek, you feel his body on you heavily weighing you into the bed with his hands tightly wrapped around your waist, a groan coming out of his mouth with every thrust.

"I'm gonna cum" rafe raspily says "please in me" you moan "always" rafe smirks before his eyes tightly close shut and he cums in you, thick ropes of cum spurting in you as rafe loudly groans "fuck" you brokenly whimper "how was that" rafe asks pulling out of you "it was great" you say with a smile.

"dick so good it has you smiling" rafe chuckles "I guess so yeah" you say getting out of bed "where are you going" rafe asks grabbing your hips "getting some water" you say "well get back soon, wouldn't wanna keep this waiting" rafe smirks smacking his hardon against his stomach "I will be" you say putting on your underwear and walking to the kitchen.

you walk into the kitchen and grab a glass of water from the fridge before feeling a presence behind you, you while around to find rafes dad ward standing there "oh hi mr cameron" you breath a sigh of relief "hello y/n" ward say closing the distance between you too "what's a slut like you doing down here" ward abruptly breaks the awkward silence.

"I'm sorry" you stammer "I could hear everything you and my son were doing slut" ward says "I could hear you begging for my son cock like a desperate whore in heat" ward spits out turning you around and grinding his hard on in-between your ass "did my son do a good job at fucking you" ward asks turning your head to look at him.

you look at ward with bare blank eyes "answer me slut" ward demands "yes" you shakily say "I bet I could do better" ward growls in your ear making you whimper before dropping your head on his shoulder "please do" you ask "look at you desperate for any dick even your boyfriends own dad" ward degrades bringing you over to the counter and bending you over.

ward pulls down his pants and and lets his dick flip out on your ass, he slides down your underwear and slips his hard on into you with one quick motion "I can't believe my son pulled a slut like you" ward says as you lightly moan on the counter "better be quiet if you don't want rafe to find out" ward says covering your mouth as you continue to let out long breathy moans against his hand "good boy take this cock" ward says staring at how easily you take his dick.

"I always wanted this, fucking you like you're mine" ward groans feeling his climax approaching "you want me to cum in you" ward asks "please do sir" you please muffled "such a whore for the cameron cock" ward scoffs laying a light spank on your ass making you moan into his hand "here it comes" ward says through gritted teeth as his cum spurts into you.

"well would you look at that, both of the cameron boys cum swirling all in you" ward chuckles rubbing your belly "a couple more months and you could be pregnant" he laughs pulling out of your dripping hole "now get back to my son and don't mention this" ward orders smacking your ass one more time before walking out the kitchen, you pull up your underwear and walk back to rafes room.

"finally it took you forever what happened" rafe asks "nothing just had a talk with your dad" you say looking a little dazed "what did that dick have to say" rafe scoffs patting his legs to invite to to straddle him, which you do "nothing just talked about something I can't remember" you say "well let me help you not remember anything" rafe says sliding into you "woah did you get looser" rafe chuckles "I don't know maybe I did" you say moaning out.

[arc-misadventures]

In an effort to improve moral the council and Ironwood have agreed to Yang's plan and instigate the largest hide and seek game ever (TM) with a billion lien prize utilizing Penny as the seeker while the military holds a military "Exercise" outside the kingdom.

Nora wins

A few weeks later Jaune shows up and asks if the game is still going on.

The Hunt

Ironwood: Attention people of, Atlas, and Mantle! Today we will be conducting the worlds largest game of, Hide, and Go Seek!

Ironwood: Now I know many of you find this stupid, and silly. But, I am sure that for a prize of one billion Lien will change your minds! That's right people, the last person found, be they be male, or female, young, and old, human, and faunas alike will receive a prize of one billion Lien to do whatever they desire to do with it!

Ironwood: Now then, our seekers for this game will be, Atlas's proud Knights, and our loyal defender, Penny Polendina! Take it away, Ms. Polendina!

Penny: Thank you, General Ironwood! Salutations everyone! As the, General said, we will be hosting the worlds largest game of hide, and go seek with the grand prize for the last person found, winning one billion Lien! Now the rules are simple! Hide, and don't get caught! Of course we must advise you to hide in safe places, ant to not go anywhere that could get yourself hurt!

Penny: Now I have a complete data base of every individual who lives, in, Atlas, and Mantle. So I will be able to tell who has been found, and who is left to be found~! So don't worry, I won't leave a stone unturned in this great hunt!

Penny: And, with that, you all have five hours begore the game begins! Starting... Now!

Penny: Good luck everyone, and let the games begin!

~~~ Penny: Aren't you going to hide, General?

Ironwood: Me? No, nonono, I am not interested in playing this game. Go right on ahead, Penny. Happy hunting.

Penny: I will do, Sir!

~~~

Penny: 1 hr 37 mins have elapsed since the start of the game: 1,721 players, and counting have been found.

Penny: ...

Penny: 1,722 players have been found; Hello friend, Blake!

Blake: What?! How did you find me so fast?!

Penny: Your hiding spot was not out of place, but empty boxes do no jiggle.

Blake: Shit! Knew I should have grab something to read that wasn't so spicy...

~~~

Penny: 2,520 players have been found, and 5% of, Atlas, and Mantle have been explored.

(Smash!)

Penny: 2,521 players have been found; Hello, Specials Ederne!

Elm: Hi, Penny... was it the fact I knock over the shelf that gave me away?

Penny: Negative. Your head is peeking over the top shelf.

Elm: Dammit! Curse my tall muscular build!

~~~

Penny: 3,791 players have been found, and 9.61% of Atlas, and Mantle have been searched.

(Creak)

Penny: Hmmm?

Penny looks up, and sees a bundle of read cloth hanging precariously from a chandler.

Penny: Hello, Ruby!

Ruby: H-Hi.. Penny...

Penny: How did you get up there, Ruby?

Ruby: My semblance.

Penny: Fascinating.

Penny: ...

Ruby: ...

Penny: Do you need help getting down?

Ruby: YES! Please help me I'm going to fall!

Penny: On it!

~~~

Penny: Hello, Friend Weiss!

Weiss: Oh? Hello, Penny. Would you care for a cup of tea?

Penny: No thank you.

Weiss: Tell me, how did you find me?

Penny: You mentioned where you were going to hide when this game was mentioned to, Yang; So, I just had to look. But, I must ask, how did you get a tea set all the way up here?

Weiss: Ahh well...

Weiss, and Penny look down to see the beautiful landscape of, Atlas, and Mantle.

Weiss: We Schnee's have our ways~!

~~~

Penny: 5,782... Correction, 5,832 players have been found, 13.9% of, Atlas, and Mantle have been explored.

(Ca-thunk!)

Penny heard a sound emanate from within a broom closet.

Penny: Hmm? Investigating.

Penny walked to the closet, and opened the door, inside she found, Specialist Bree, and Ebi, within.

Penny: Salutations, Specialist Bree, Specialist Ebi! Only parents, and their young children are allowed to be together during the game of, Hide, and Go Seek. You two being together disqualifies both of you.

Clover: O-Oh does it? Shoot. I was running out of time to find a hiding spot, and I just jumped in here. And, well Harriet was already here, and the game started so... I just stayed here.

Harriet: I would have kicked him out, but it already started... So...

Penny: Understandable. Well, I will leave, and continue my search! But, before I go, Specialist Ebi?

Clover: Yes, Penny?

Penny: Your uniform seems to be undone, and there appears to be smudges on your face.

Clover: Oh did it, I hadn't notice.

Penny: Did something happen?

Clover: Ohh... Just got a little lucky. That's all.

Penny: I understood. Now then, the hunt continues!

Clover: Good luck, Penny!

Harriet: Bye.

Penny shuts the door, and the two stand there in silence for a moment before, Harriet slaps his chest.

Harriet: 'Got a little lucky?!' We finally have a chance to have some fun, and that's how you play it off?

Clover: Hey. I got to spend time with you, I can name a thousand reasons why that's considered lucky by anyone.

Harriet: Oh shut up, and kiss me.

Clover: Oh how lucky me~!

~~~

Penny: 7,127 players found, 27.3% of Atlas, and Mantle have been explored. Continuing the search. Hmm...?

Penny stops, as she sees a can on the side of the road being kicked to the side, and yet she saw no one was around to kick it.

Penny: Investigating... Heat Vision Activated.

Penny: Scanning...

Penny: Heat source detected, Knight's been issued to conduct search.

: Ahh! Whoa hey hey hey?!

Penny: Contestant found. Identify yourself.

: May. May Marigold...

Penny: Contestant, May Marigold has been disqualified from game for cheating.

May: What?! I'm disqualified for using my semblance?!

Penny: Negative: You are allowed to use your semblance if it allows you to stay hidden; But, you are disqualified for moving about, instead of staying hidden.

May: That's...!

May: That's fair...

Penny: Punishment has be administered. The hunt shall continue.

~~~

Winter: Oh, hello, Penny.

Penny: Salutations, Specialist Schnee!

Winter: I see you found everyone in my family. Please tell me my mother wasn't in the wine cellar...

Penny: She was not, she was in the kitchen making a cup of tea.

Winter: She was making a cup of tea? That sounds... okay...? I'll need to have a word with her... that's odd...

Penny: I was unable to find, Jacques Schnee. Do you perhaps have any ideas where I could find him?

Whitely: Father locked himself in the families panic room all by himself. He locked himself in there well before the competition started so no one else could get in.

Winter: Still as petty as ever... I'll show you to the panic room, I'm not interested in letting him win. This way, Penny.

Penny: Thank you~!

Winter: Here it is, just hack the door, and you should get in.

Penny: Hacking...

Whitely: Isn't this cheating? Telling your friend where, Father is?

Winter: She was going to check anyway. Might as well speed things along.

Penny: Vault open.

Winter: Alright, Father you have been found might as well...?! Whitely stay back.

Whitely: Why? I need to...?!

Winter: I said, stay back!

Penny: Oh, this is unexpected...

Jacques Schnee, was lounging peacefully in his chair, his head staring at the ceiling, a cup of wine sat before him, his once proud white business suit, stained red with his blood.

Jacquess Schnee's throat had been slit.

Jacques Schnee, was dead.

~~~

Ironwood: You found his dead body in a panic room behind a locked vault door?

Winter: Indeed sir.

Ironwood: Suicide?

Winter: No idea, Sir. We will know more once the autopsy has been completed.

Ironwood: I guess someone thought that this game of hide, and go seek would be the opportune moment to commit a crime. But, within a locked safe? This makes no sense...

Winter: Records indicate that the door was only opened twice; When he went in, and when we went in to check on him.

Ironwood: Peculiar... Hmmm... Assemble whatever, Specialist's that have been found, and start investigating this at once. The fact that it was your father who was killed is one thing, but the fact that it happened behind a locked door is something else entirely.

Winter: At once, Sir!

Ironwood: They waited until the game began, and then killed him when no one was looking... This isn't good... Not good at all.

~~~

Penny: 9,723 player's, and 52.6% of Atlas, and Mantle have been searched.

Penny: Friend, Ren?

Ren: Oh, hello, Penny.

Penny: How did you get that tea set up in that tree? That is a potential fire hazard.

Ren: Don't worry, it's an electric heater, no open flame of any sort. Tell me, have you found, Nora yet?

Penny: Negative. Friend Nora has yet to be found. Do you have any idea where friend, Nora might be?

Ren: I don't know where exactly, Nora is. But, to give you a clue where she might be; Nora is probably in a place that doesn't seem physically possible to be in.

Penny: What? But how is that possible?

Ren: It's, Nora.

Penny: I do not understand?

Ren: Neither do I.

Penny: Oh... Okay...?

~~~

Penny: Remove yourself from the premises at once.

Oscar: What? H-How did you find me?

Penny: The Vault is routinely monitored. You were found instantly hours ago the moment you walked into the premises.

Oscar: What?! Then how come you didn't call me out sooner, I've been waiting here for hours!

Penny: It was not to be checked until 70% of Atlas's, and Mantle's total population, and 80% of it's territory had been searched.

Oscar: Aww man... I waisted my whole day here...

~~~

Yang: Sup, Penny~!

Penny: Friend, Yang... W-Why are you in my room...?

Yang: Cause of all the places I thought you would never look, I doubted you would look in your own room.

Penny: That is correct... 99.9%, 15,971 inhabitants of Atlas, and Mantle have been found. And, 100% of the grounds of Atlas, and Mantle have been checked. Your guess that this would be the last place I would have check is correct.

Yang: Does that mean I won?!

Penny: Negative. The last individual to be found is, Nora Valkyrie.

Yang: Damn! I was so close. Well, lets meet up in the, General's office to announce the winner.

Penny: Very well.

Yang: Oh, and, Penny?

Penny: Yes?

Yang: About this, Ruby Chibi-ish plushie you have here...

Penny: W-What plushie...? Hiccup!

Yang: Relax, I'm totally fine with you two being a thing. That's not what I wanted to ask you about at all.

Penny: Oh? Then what is it?

Yang: Where can I get one~?

~~~

Ironwood: So you found everyone, Penny?

Penny: I have found everyone, but one.

Ironwood: Then we have a winner then?

Penny: Yes, Sir. Nora Valkyrie is the winner.

Ironwood: Then we shall announce that the game is over so she can come out of wherever it is she is hiding.

Penny: Very well, Sir!

~~~

Yang: So, wait, he was found dead in a panic room?

Weiss: Yes, apparently that is where, Winter, and Penny found him.

Blake: I would say I'm sorry, Weiss.

Ruby: But...?

Blake: What? I said, I would say I'm sorry, but come on, it's Jacques Schnee!

Ruby: But, he's, Weiss's dad!

Weiss: Nonono... It's alright, in fact I believe that the moment it is made public there will be people celebrating in the streets.

Yang: Whoo! Block party!

Clover: So where did they find you two?

Marrow: I was hiding in a locker, but it turned out to be a rocket locker, and I got sent out into the wastelands by accident. So I spent my time out there waiting to be picked up.

Vine: I was hiding in the, Bullhead that was sent to pick him up.

Harriet: HA!

Clover: Tough break.

Qrow: The found me after they knocked over a wine barrel, and it smashed on the floor.

Yang: I thought you gave up drinking, Uncle Qrow? What were you doing in a wine barrel?!

Qrow: It was empty! And, I don't know, I just sorta... fell into it.

Oscar: Just your semblance playing up on you?

Qrow: Oh shut up.

Oscar: Sorry.

Ironwood: Ahh, I see everyone's here. Good, since you're all close friends with, Ms. Valkyrie, perhaps one of you could tell us where she could be?

Weiss: You still haven't found her?

Blake: Have you tried notifying her on her scroll?

Penny: We have, but we have received no response.

Ruby: Hmmm... Hey, are those coffee cups?

Blake: They have, Nora's name on them.

Ren: Oh... oh that's not good.

Ironwood: Why, what's wrong?

Ren: Nora is hyperactive as it is, when she has coffee she gets super charged. Which results in... incidents happening.

Ironwood: Incidents? What kind of incidents?

Yang: Yes.

Ironwood: Okay...?

Clover: Then how do we find her to let her know she won?

Nora: I WON?!

RW: AHHHH!

Elm: Oh gods!?

Yang: The hell?!

Blake: NYAAHHHH!!!

MV: AHHH!!

Ironwood: Wait... did she...?

Penny: Hi, Friend Nora!

Nora: Hi~!

Nora: So, did I win?!

Ironwood: Yes, Miss Valkyrie, you did win.

Nora: FUCK YEAH!

Ironwood: I must ask though, where were you?

Nora: I drank two espressos here, and phased between realities, until I was in the null zone, where I excited in a state of non-existence. There I stayed until I was summoned from the void, and brought back to the material realm.

RWBYRO: ...

Qrow: Uhhh...?

CHEVM: ...?

Penny: Really?

Ironwood: Huw... there's video of her standing here in this room, then she just disappears... What?

Ren: Best not to dwell on it, Sir. It's just better that way.

Ironwood: Very well? Haaa... Very well, we shall announce the winner.

Nora: Whoo!

RWBYRO: YAY!

Winter: Ahh... I see you found, Miss Valkyrie. Where was she?

Ironwood: She was here.

Winter: Here...? In this room?

Winter: ...

Winter: Where?

Clover: We'll explain later. I hope...

Winter: I see...? Well then, congratulations then, Miss Valkyrie. You won, Atlas's, and Mantles first game of Hide, and Go Seek.

Nora: Yes! I win, I win~! DadadaaaDA!

Winter: Once, again I offer you my congratulations. I think you, and your friends should get together to... Hold on... Two, four, six, seven... We're is, Jaune?

Nora: J-Jaune...?

Weiss: Jaune's not here...?

Ruby: What? D-Didn't we see him... somewhere?

Yang: He was in this?

Blake: D-Didn't he tell you where he was hiding?

Ren: I thought he told you...

Nora: OH NO! We did it again! We all forgot about, Jaune!

Marrow: Wait, didn't you say you have a registry of everyone in, Mantle, and Atlas. You used it for the game.

Clover: Didn't you find everyone?

Harriet: You said you searched all of Mantle, and Atlas, right?

Penny: Checking...

Penny: ...

Penny: File corruption detected... Correcting...

Penny: ...

Penny: Corruption fixed. One file of, Luna Jaune Arc has been found. 99.9% of all inhabitants of Atlas, and Mantle have been found.

Blake: Wait, his first name is, Luna?

Ruby: Did you guys know?

Nora: No?!

Winter: Oh gods... Penny, do you know where, Jaune is?

Penny: Yes! I can track where his location is with his scroll!

Winter: Good, where is he?

Penny: He is...? Odd... He is located around the park in downtown, Mantle?

Ironwood: How is that odd?

Penny: I check the park myself... Myself, and thirty Knights were in the area... a-a-and we d-d-didn't f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-find HIM?!

With that, Penny short circuited, and fell to her knees. Everyone began to freakout, Penny's mind rebooted, and she quickly shot up, and saluted everyone!

Ruby: P-Penny, are you okay?

Penny: I am combat ready! Why, did something happen?

Clover: You found out where, Jaune is, and you...

Penny: Really? He is the winner of the game; Where is he?

Clover: The park in downtown, Mantle.

Penny: Really? I checked there, and I didn't see him there at all! I wonder where he was hiding?

Clover: Uhhh...?

Ironwood: I think we need to have, Dr. Polendina run a diagnostics on, Penny after this.

Winter: I agree, but first we must find, Jaune.

~~~

Team RWBY, Nora, Oscar, Penny, and Winter head towards the downtown, Mantle park. They noticed the various people who lost the game going about their day. They had happy faces, and they they could over hear them chatting about how much fun they had playing a massive game of hide, and go seek.

But, as they moved past the various happy faces, they eventually found one that stood out all on his own. A dour, and quiet expression was present across his face as he sat alone, playing a game of chess all against himself.

Nora: Jaune!

Ruby: Jaune, you're here!

Weiss: What are you doing here?

Jaune: Yeah... I've been here all day. Didn't you...? No you didn't see my note since you're asking me, 'What am I doing here?'

Yang: So, you've been here all day?

Jaune: More, or less. I did leave for a bit to grab a drink, and a hotdog from a hotdog stand. Good hotdog...

Jaune gestured to a pile of trash next to him.

Blake: Oh, you spilt some ketchup on your hand.

Jaune: Oh, I did...

Jaune licked his thumb before rubbing the smear off his hand.

Jaune: So, what's up?

Penny: Congrats, Jaune! You won!

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Won what?

Yang: The massive game of hide, and go seek... you won.

Jaune: Wait, we were doing that? I thought that was just a thing, Yang talked about.

Ruby: Yeah, d-didn't you know?

Jaune: Nope.

Ruby: Well we did...

Penny: And, you won!

Jaune: Yay.

Yang: Jaune, you won the one billion Lien prize!

Jaune: Again... yay.

Ruby: You don't care?

Jaune: ...

Jaune: Meh... maybe.

Nora: But, Jaune! Think of all the pancakes you can buy!

Jaune: Guys... I don't care. I'm just here playing chess.

Winter: By yourself?

Jaune: Well, people could have joined me, but they were all busy playing hide, and go seek, so...

Weiss: Okay...?

Ruby: So, uhhh... Should we go, and announce that, Jaune won?

Penny: General Ironwood plans to announce the winner tomorrow. So, we are fine.

Yang: In that case, where did you get that hotdog? Cause damn, am I hungry!

Jaune: It's somewhere on the other side of the park. It's easy enough to find.

Ruby: Awesome! Let's go guys!

Yang: Whoo! Hot dogs!

Oscar: I haven't had one in ages!

Nora: I'm gonna eat out their stall!

Weiss: I've never had a hotdog before.

Blake: I don't think I have one...

Ruby: What?! We must rectify that at once!

Swiftly the members of, Team RWBY, Nora, Ren, Oscar, and Penny swiftly left to enjoy hot dogs, leaving, Jaune all on his own once again. Or, so he thought.

Cause standing there, looking down on, Jaune from his seat was one, Winter Schnee.

Winter: Were you really all 'alone' today, were you?

Jaune said nothing, but his gaze darting to the side said everything.

Winter: May I... join you for a round, or two?

Jaune stares at, Winter for a moment, before resetting the chessboard, and turns it so that white is facing her.

Jaune: The first move is yours.

Winter smiled as she sat down, and made her first move.

[sunnebeam]

"i was hoping i wouldn't have to resort to this."

A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.

warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally scares people

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: go on tell me d-day!yoongi isn't tatsu I DARE YOU 😤 btw u don't need to watch the way of the househusband before reading this, but i swear u won't regret it if u do lol it's so funny (and it gives great visuals for this fic!). anyways, enjoy!! i'd love to hear ur thoughts so drop by my askbox and let's chat :)

Water drips down his neck as he washes his face. Droplets fall down his tattooed back, tracing the meticulous lines and bold colors that contrast his pale skin.

After rinsing and drying off, he dons on his outfit for the day – a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoos on both his arms and some black sweatpants – and puts on his signature apron – a beige, cotton apron with a drawing of his brown poodle on the front. Said poodle is staring at him from the bathroom door as he takes one last look at the mirror.

An old, bumpy scar runs down his right eye.

"Perfect," he says to himself before heading to the kitchen with his dog following right behind.

Min Yoongi never used to wake up this early. But these days, he wakes up bright and early at six o'clock because he has an important assignment.

"What do you think, Holly? Too big?"

The poodle barks in response, and taking its opinion into consideration, Yoongi adjusts his gimbap slices accordingly, making them a tad bit smaller and just the perfect size for your lunchbox.

"Shit!"

The door to your shared bedroom opens and you run out, already dressed in your corporate attire. You run to the kitchen where your husband is and get a huge glass of water.

"I'm late!" you screech, all while gulping down the whole glass.

"But you still have a few hours," he points out in confusion.

"I forgot I have an early meeting!" you explain in a hurry, putting on your heels before giving your husband a big smooch on the lips and blowing Holly a kiss. "Sorry, Yoonie! I'll see you later!"

And you're out the door.

Yoongi blinks for a few moments before shaking his head. He's chuckling in amusement at your mishap, but if any outsider hears his laughter, it just sounds a bit manic.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Holly."

Holly barks.

"Huh? What was that?"

Holly barks.

Yoongi stares at the poodle, then at your Hello Kitty lunchbox he meticulously prepared, then back at the poodle.

"She forgot her lunchbox?"

Holly barks.

"Fuck."

Yoongi snaps into action, securing the lunchbox and putting it inside a Hello Kitty cloth bag before running out the door with his cute apron still on. He mounts his bicycle and speeds towards your office – which, if he was driving a car, would have broken numerous traffic regulations but luckily he isn't a stranger to breaking a law or two.

He's almost to your office. He's halfway there.

But unfortunately, there's a bit of a situation.

"What's your occupation, sir?"

The two police officers stare at him hesitantly after flagging him down for pedalling too fast with his bicycle. They're debating on giving him a ticket but then Yoongi answers.

"Househusband."

They stare at him.

"What?"

Yoongi sighs. At this rate, he won't be able to catch you before you clock in.

"Wait a second," one of the officers says, eyeing the tattoos peeking out from Yoongi's shirt and the big scar on his eye. "Are you..."

They stare at the name on the ticket. Min Yoongi.

"...Agust D?"

No way, the other officer thinks. There's a rumor about an infamous gangster called Agust D who used to slaughter his enemies with his own two hands. This guy can't be him. Right? Right?!

They hold a breath when Yoongi reaches into his pocket.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he murmurs.

"Wait, sir. There's no need for violence—"

"Here," Yoongi shuts them up by thrusting one of his most precious possessions.

A gift card for discounts at the local grocery store.

The police officers stare at the gift card, bewildered.

"As much as it pains me to let go of this," Yoongi continues, "take it. Now, I have to go."

And he pedals away, leaving behind one gift card and two very confused cops.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[honeipie]

THE INTERVIEW

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: katsuki won’t do interviews for anyone. well, anyone that isn’t you.

this is part two of the first hockey boys katsuki post which you can find here

after the interaction at the bar, you and katsuki had been seeing more and more of each other, not only on a professional level, but a personal one as well. in public he'd answer your questions dead last during the press conferences, but you waited each time. knowing that when it was over he wouldn’t leave your side at that bar.

it didn’t take long for the two of you to start dating. you knew you liked him, and he liked you.

the two of you never made your relationship known to the public, due to the small fear you had of it interfering with your job. katsuki never minded, as long as you came home with him at the end of the day he wasn't going to complain.

so five months later here you were, in bed with one of the best hockey players in the league, trying to escape his need to cuddle.

buzz. buzz. buzz.

"get your damn phone will ya?" katsuki mumbled, pressing his eyes shut. you let out a long sigh eyes opening slowly.

"i would if you weren't holding me down like a damn paperweight" he only grumbled loosening his arm around your torso. you couldn’t help but giggle picking up the phone.

“don’t worry my baby. i’ll make it up to you”

“shut up” this made him fully let go and turn his body around. you couldn’t help but fully burst out in laughter at his dramatics before you answered your phone.

“hello?” you rubbed off the sleep that still clouded your eyes.

“y/n, sorry to call you this early but we’re going to need to have a meeting quickly. i hope you don’t mind”

you contained the groan you wanted to let out and opted for a small sigh instead “i’ll be there in an hour” hanging up you turned back to your boyfriend placing your chin in his shoulder.

“i gotta go to work kats”

he grumbled something before turning around to fully face you “this is the one day i don’t gotta go to practice and now they’re callin’ you in? what the hell?”

“i know it sucks, but i’ll be back as soon as possible ‘kay? it’s just a meeting then i should be done” you pulled him in for a kiss which he sleepily returned.

“ugh your breath-“

“shut the fuck up”

even through your teasing he couldn’t help but smirk a little. you got out of the bed opening up his closet. he had opened up a space for you knowing that you might have to get up and go. you picked out something that was comfortable, but still work appropriate. you didn’t plan on staying long anyways.

by the time you exited the closet you were quickly putting on lipstick and looking in the nearest mirror you could find. at this point, katsuki had gotten up and made his way over to you.

“you look nice”

he placed kisses at the crook of your neck, which you were trying not let get to you. cause if you did you would not be getting to work.

“thanks!” you put some earrings in trying not to tilt your head too much where he could have more leverage over you. once they were in you turned around making his head snap back up “i will be back. please remind me cause you know how i could stay there for hours” cupping his cheeks you pulled him in for one last kiss which left a lipstick stain, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell him that.

when you arrived at the station you said your casual hello’s before making your way into one of the conference rooms. luckily, there was already a coffee sitting there waiting for you. ever since you had drawn more attention for the station you’ve been getting some more positive attention.

“hello sir” you greeted your boss with a smile going to sit down across from him. he smiled back at you his teeth practically shining from all the whitening his does.

“there she is! sorry for calling you in on such short notice. i know you probably have errands to attend to" you only shrugged going to take a sip of your coffee "the reason i called you up is because we need something big. we've been getting attention from the players and that's good, but the season is almost over, and we can't just rely on those press conferences anymore. we need something bigger. remember those locker room interviews i was talking about? i was wondering if you could score one with any of the teammates. if you could pull it off, do it with bakugo. he seems to do strangely well with you"

your eyes flit up to meet his. you thought that you could get away with the press conferences for at least the rest of the season. katsuki and you never really delved too dead into work conversation. you'd always hit him with the little 'how was work' and his response never failed, 'y/n you were there'. that was all you would really do. you didn't want him to think that you were with him just to get information out of him, so you never said much about what your boss asked you to do.

"that should be okay with you right? i mean you are our star reporter"

clearing your throat you nodded "i should be able to pull something through. is this all? not to be rude, but i do have some plans for the rest of the day"

he shook his head standing up from his chair "that's all i got for ya" he walked over to give your hand a firm shake "thanks for being so cooperative. shoot me an email when you've got something" with that, he was out of the door.

your keys clanged against the ceramic bowl you made on one of you and katsuki's date nights. he had made one too, you just use it to keep your rings in. katsuki stood in the kitchen already starting prep on some dinner for later. you slipped off your shoes going over to stand next to him.

"how was your meeting?" he asked using a knife to scrape vegetables into a bowl. all you could do was shrug and hop onto the island counter.

"it was okay" you watched as his back muscles flexed along with his movements. katsuki was good on the ice for sure, but in the kitchen? it was like everything he touched was approved by God himself. after he had made your favorite meal after a long day you had never gone back to cooking yourself.

katsuki finished with the last of the vegetables before walking over to you. both hands rested by your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist bringing him closer “hello handsome” you went to lean in but to your surprise he dodged.

he must’ve noticed the offended look that crossed your face “tell me what’s up”

“nothing is up! i just wanted a kiss!”

“don’t lie to me. i just can tell something is wrong. don’t ask how, just tell me so i can help. don’t want you moping around the house bringin’ the mood down”

“weird way of saying you care” your fingers went up to play with some of his hair.

“i do care. that’s why i’m asking”

a small pout formed on your lips as you thought “i don’t want this to ruin what we have. i don’t want you to think im using you or anything, cause i’m not. i love you kat,” if you being upset before didn’t concern him enough this definitely did “my boss is asking me to get a locker room interview with someone on the team-“

“i’ll do it”

it was so quick you could’ve missed it. he didn’t look upset, or even angry. katsuki just shrugged as if it was an every day occurrence. as if he doesn’t brush off every single one on one interview there is. no, you’ve seriously seen him delete the emails before even opening them. fucking spam is what he calls them.

your eyebrows furrowed together at his words “you’re- you’re sure about this?”

“yeah why not. you’re definitely the one doing the interview right? plus if you don’t want it to be with me i’ll force one of the other extras to do it. they fuckin’ love the attention.. was that it?”

“i’ll be doing the interview for sure, and that was it”

he leaned down finally giving you the kiss you wanted along with a small ‘love you’ at the very end.

when he kissed you, there was an unusual feeling on his bottom lip. pulling away you put your thumb over his lip feeling out the bump.

"what the fuck? do you have herpes or some shit?"

katsuki pulled away with an offended expression "no i don't have fuckin' herpes! and if i did, i would've gotten it from your dumbass!"

"well i don't have herpes so where did the herpes bump come from?"

"stop calling it that!"

your stomach was hurting from laughter and katsuki was trying not to give in to your stupid jokes "i got it from that game yesterday. it's starting to swell up a bit" you tilted your head letting your thumb graze over it again.

"babe, you've gotta stop fighting. i don't want to mistake you for having STDs again-"

"is this your weird way of saying you care?"

"i do care"

the two of you stared at each other for a good minute, neither backing down until he let out a huff "fine. can't believe you're doin' this to me" he grumbled going to walk away into the bedroom “come get into some more comfortable clothes. i want to lay down to make up for this morning"

katsuki had a game the next day, so of course you sat right behind the bench where the team sat. it was a close match the whole game. tensions were high between both of the teams, and everyone could feel it. all throughout there was one player on the other team that was really pissing katsuki off, and you could tell from where you were sitting. the way he would skate quickly away from him every time he would get close. the way he would make the whole bench shake every time he sat down in rotations.

there was no physical contact made from either side. not until katsuki scored a goal for his team which must've aggravated the other enough to the point of bodychecking katsuki, hard.

the crowd egged the players actions on with ‘oooohs’ and ‘oh shits!’

now katsuki was livid. you could see him doing a quick turn around to face the player again, but suddenly stopped himself.

katsuki shook his head, and skated away.

the whole crowed murmured in confusion, the player who instigated it was confused. hell, you were even confused.

the day katsuki bakugou refused a fight has finally come.

after the game had finished, and everyone cleared out of the locker room, the station got it set up for the interview. you had taken katsuki into the coach’s office to explain how it was going to go down “so it’s not like a regular locker room interview. it’s going to be like a podcast episode. people eat those up nowadays so this is gonna be good-“

“hm” he was half listening to whatever you were saying. his face was buried in your neck and hands pulled you in by your waist. the blinds were closed and the door was shut, so there was a fifty-fifty chance you could’ve gotten caught, and he was willing to take it.

you decided explaining any more would be useless. all of it going through one ear and out the other. so you moved your hands up the back of his shirt making him shiver slightly “you did good today. i saw your goals”

“thanks baby” he whispered back placing soft kisses along your neck “we can go home after this right?”

“right after, then take a hot bath”

“then let’s get this over with” hesitantly, he pulled away from you going to open the door. you could tell how the game wore him out by how his shoulders sagged slightly, and his hair was a mess. hand going to his shoulder you stopped him “hey, we can do this another day”

he shook his head grabbing one of his baseball caps “nah i’m fine. turn this shit on” nodding you got into you seat. he settled into his but couldn’t help but watched as you fixed your appearance looking into one of the screens nearby. fixing your lipstick because he accidentally smeared it from the after game kiss. the way you straightened out your clothes because of the way he relaxed onto you like a pillow. he loved seeing the evidence of his love all over you, even if nobody knew.

man, he was starting to regret agreeing to keeping this secret.

“are you ready mr. bakugo?” you asked as if you didn’t even know him.

“yeah ‘m ready”

the interview was going smoothly for the most part. you asked him questions and he either gave you one of his famous snarky remarks, or an actual thought out answer. the topic of conversation had turned onto the events of today’s game, and you had questions already lined up in your head.

“so mr. bakugo you had a good game today with you and your teammates pulling in yet another victory. though i’m sure everyone is wondering why you didn’t involve yourself in the fight today. i mean that player was being pretty hostile”

katsuki shrugged pulling the mic away from his mouth a bit “my girl doesn’t like when i fight”

your eyebrow raised at his statement. the team behind the cameras ears perked up at the new information.

“your girl? you- you have a girlfriend?”

his eyes flit up to yours trying to contain his budding smirk “yeah i do. congratulations, you’re the first people to publicly know. other than the team”

“if you don’t mind me asking. how long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“almost six months”

“so almost half a year. she must have something special if she could tie you down”

both of you were now smiling at each other. it wasn’t shocking that you were smiling, but katsuki? hell must’ve frozen over.

“yeah she’s special as hell, and pretty. might put a ring on her finger one of these days if that’s what she wants” he adjusted the mic once more “people might say that’s quick, but i say when you know you know. why waste time?”

you had choked on your spit causing a coughing fit. katsuki covered his face to hide the fact that he was chuckling at your misfortune. once you pulled yourself together you shook your head “i’m sorry about that. i don’t know what happened”

“don’t worry about it”

“well thank you so much mr. bakugo for doing this interview with us. you’ve been amazing”

he mumbled out a ‘you’re welcome’ before the cameras stopped rolling. you got up quickly making sure the crew had everything they needed before you made your way outside. both you and katsuki had driven your own cars here so you would simply meet him at home.

by the time he had gotten there you had already run the bath and gotten in. you could hear the soft pats of his clothes hitting the floor as he made his way into the bathroom. carefully, he slipped into the tub behind you, muscles instantly relaxing. the two of you sat in comfortable silence for a while. just basking in the warmth of the tub.

“you’re good at your job”

“thanks” you looked over your shoulder to see that his head was tilted back. his adam’s apple bobbed a little because of your movements.

“whatcha starin’ at me for?”

“cause your pretty. and i want to know if you meant what you said”

his one eye opened to look over at you “what did i say?”

katsuki knew what he said. he just wanted to be able to hear his words become yours.

“that you wanted to marry me”

he closed his eye again moving his arms to wrap around your body. they pulled you close with ease enveloping you in more warmth.

“i meant every fuckin’ word”

@v4mp3r

@yeehawgiddyup13

@b134ch-m4h-ey3z

@liluvtojineteyam

[himbofan4444]

“Another day…” I say to myself as I walk through the parking garage. The is air still damp from the rainstorm yesterday. I look around. The garage is oddly vacant. Perhaps I’d come in when the buildings closed again. Determined to finish the day and get home quickly, I trudge past the puddles and cigarette butts. “God it’s freezing,” I say to myself, shivering.

I look around again. I’m used to a long walk to the stairs but today’s feels… really long. I can’t see my car but that’s all thanks to the thick fog that has been settled in town for a few days. I can’t see the stairwell either. The only thing I can see is the fog surrounding me. I sigh and continue my trek forwards, unsure if I’m even moving forwards anymore.

After a few more minutes of walking, I stumble upon an odd sight. In front of me is a shopping booth, something I’ve never seen the liking of before here. A faint concoction of aromas reach my nose: a strange mix of perfume, wood, leather, and some other implacable scents. At the booth stands a broad man. On the table, there are a variety of brightly colored liquids contained in erlenmeyer flasks. The man waves me over, a toothy grin across his dark, bearded face.

“Well hello there fine fellow! How can I help ya?” the man asks. His voice is gravelly and deep, the kind of voice that makes you weak in the knees.

“Oh, I’m not interested in buying anything, sir. I’m just trying to find the stairs,” I respond.

The man lets out a hearty laugh, “Please, call me Rohan! And I insist. I’ll even give you a hefty discount.”

I eye the flasks, taking in the colorful liquids. Each is bubbling and emanates an odd warmth, much preferable over the freezing air of the rest of the parking garage. “So, what are they?” I ask.

“Oh, just some herbal remedies. They’re very common in holistic medicine,” Rohan says, lifting up to of the flasks. “Would you like one, sir?”

“Oh I’m not sure if I should. I’ve tried these things before and they haven’t… agreed with me,” I say, letting out a small chuckle.

“Don’t you worry about that, sir. These are all natural. I insist, try one. Here,” Rohan picks up a pink one and holds it out for me. I reluctantly grab it and give him a half-smile. “That’ll be $5, sir,” Rohan says as he holds out his large palm. I search through my wallet and find a crumpled up $5 bill and hand it to him. He smiles and says with a certain satisfaction, “Have a lovely day, sir!”

I walk off with the flask in hand, still unsure of where the stairs are. I check my phone for the time. Shit! I’m late! I briskly walk through the parking garage but to no avail. I’m still lost. At least until I see my car. Damnit! I just walked in a big circle! Exhausted and angry, I get in my car and sit down. The car is almost as cold as outside, a small remnant of the heating still present. I start the car, deciding to head home.

Before I can put my foot on the gas pedal, my gaze drifts down to the flask in the passenger’s seat. “I should probably drink that…” I say to myself. I reach down and grab it, bringing the beverage to my lips. It smells like perfume. I lift the flask, the contents of which pouring into my mouth and down my throat. It’s almost unbearably sweet. So much so that it’s almost bitter. There’s also a strange salty aftertaste. I cough and drink from my water bottle, the flavor lingering in my mouth.

I drive home in silence, allowing myself to be bitter about today’s events as of now. As I drive home, I notice an odd, unfamiliar tingling in my butt. I itch it but it doesn’t help. “Maybe I just worked legs a little too hard yesterday,” I say with a shrug. Soon, my whole body feels tingly, almost numb. My work clothes begin to feel a bit tight on my body, specifically my pants. I’m sure I grabbed the larger size I have but maybe I didn’t. This morning was quite hectic after all. I shrug off the odd occurrence and continue my drive home.

On the way home, I pass a Starbucks and turn into the parking lot. I usually don’t buy such frivolous things, but I’d already bought that horrible drink so why not? As I walk inside, I notice a strange quality to my walking. Usually I have a quite confident strut but that has been replaced by something almost like a waddle. Odd.

Once inside, I’m finally warm. The warmth of the store is so refreshing. Before ordering, I sit at a table by the window. Sitting here feels weird. I’m not used to this amount of cushioning on these chairs but maybe I misjudged them. I take off my winter coat, setting it on the high top table in front of me. I catch a glimpse of my arms in my tight dress shirt sleeves. Jesus! I’ve always been in shape but I’ve NEVER been this big. I flex a small bit, blushing at my public flexing session. Damn, the gym’s been doing me good recently.

A short blonde barista walks over to me. She’s very cute but my still bitter attitude puts a damper on my lustful looks. She pulls out a notepad and a pencil, “Would you like anything sir?”

“Oh no-“ I clear my throat. My voice sounds less deep than normal for some reason. “I mean, sure. Could I have a vanilla latte?” Why did I order that? I always order black coffee, never that girl shit. The barista smiles and nods, writing my order down, “Got it. Is that all?”

“Yes ma’am,” I respond. Handing her the money for the beverage.

She walks off, immediately going to make my drink. I rub my throat. Why do I still sound so weird? She comes back over, my drink in hand. “Here you go sir,” she says, “Oh and by the way, I love your hair. Blonde is so your color. You look fabulous.” She walks away to serve other customers.

What? Blonde? I’m not blonde. I’ve always had brown hair. And… fabulous? Who does she think I am? One of those queers? Does my hair really look blonde to her? I pull out my phone and look at myself in the selfie camera. Jesus! My hair IS blonde! And it looks… curly. What the hell happened?! And my face… It looks off. Something is uncanny about it. I look like myself but also not… Like my lips look bigger and so do my eyes. My eyebrows look a bit neater than they should and my stubble is shorter than normal.

I get down from the stool, ready to leave and deal with this weird stuff at home. As I walk out, I feel a strange jiggling in my rear. I crane my neck around my shoulder to see what was going on with my butt. Holy shit! My ass is huge! I run out to my car, my big fat ass jiggling like crazy as I run. I quickly drive home.

Once inside, I strip off my damp clothes to assess the damage. My muscles do look bigger than normal, especially my pecs. They look like fucking tits. Jesus, they’re huge. My ass is enormous, any movement causing it to jiggle wildly. And that tingling in my ass still hasn’t gone away. I look like a poster fag. Like the dictionary definition of a faggot. Fuck…

I go up to my room and find a cardboard box on my bed. After opening it, I see a huge pink dildo and a pink jockstrap, both the same color as the drink. The dildo is easily a foot long. I shiver in disgust looking at the items. An odd feeling comes from my ass. My ass is tingling worse than before, specifically directly in my asshole. God I just wanna shove that dildo up my ass… No! I can’t be thinking like a fag! Looking like one is bad enough!

I shove the grotesque items back into the box and chuck the box across the room. I look at myself in the mirror, hesitantly touching my pouty lips. They feel almost numb, as if they aren’t real. Come to think of it… I feel my pecs and my ass, both having the same numb tingling. Oh my god…

My body stiffens up, my back arched, showing off my large muscle tits and fake fuckable ass. Goddamn why am I thinking like that? Against my will, my buff arms reach up and turn my baseball cap, which had gone from a cream color to a black and pink one, backwards. It’s like a switch got flipped. My brain goes from active and agile to slow and dull. MY thoughts become more lustful and… gay.

Damn, I wish Rohan fucked me earlier. He like totally has a huge dick. I pout, crossing my arms across my inflated chest. My heads turns, facing the discarded box. My body prances over to the box and extracts the faggy… I mean sexy things. I pull the pink jockstrap over my big round ass, doing a few hops to see my bubble butt bounce in the elastic material. I snatch up the massive dildo and lay in my bed, my thick beefy legs spread out. My body instinctively shoves the dildo as far up my ass as it can.

My hole feels oddly loose despite the lack of penetration it’s received. My brain pushes those thoughts into the garbage, conjuring up new memories of me being fucked by hoards of men, each hung like a horse and concerningly aggressive. I let out shrill, feminine moans with each thrust of the toy. Each thrust causes my room and house to become more pink and slutty looking. My wardrobe emptying of my work clothes and instead having pink slutty outfits. My bed begins vibrating, my old bed replaced with a vibrating one.

I cum out of my shrunken cock, my small load leaving me gasping for air. I’ve never felt this much pleasure in my whole life! I sit on my knees in front of the full length mirror in my room and take a picture for my Daddies.

This is me now, a stupid, horny, bouncy slut for any man who’ll take me in for the night.

[ryescapades]

hi hello how are you?? i would like to request a yor forger!reader with hoshina where it's friends to fake marriage if that's alright?

they both agreed to the arrangement just to get their families' pestering off their back, but they ended up catching feelings in the process.

basically married shenanigans with pining hoshina with his insanely strong (fake) spouse in the third division 🔥🔥🔥

thorny predicament | kaiju no. 8

characters: hoshina soshiro x fem yor forger!reader

genre/warning: fluff, fake marriage, idiot to lovers? pining, this is more like a character study i think, mixed use of present and past tenses (don't mind my grammar guys pls)

a/n: hi hii i’m doing well tq for asking and requesting dear anon ! sorry for the delay and i hope this is to your liking :3 it's been so long since i first watched spy x family so i'm sorry if the yor characterization is a bit butchered :c 2.98k wc

"ya have been quite distracted in battles lately. any problem we should be aware of, y/n?"

almost stumbling on the kaiju carcass on the ground, you let out a startled yelp at the voice. you switch your attention from the gun in your hands to the man behind you, holding in the grimace from showing on your face.

"vice-captain! apologies, um... i'm just exhausted, i promise!" you laugh, though you can't help but to cringe inwardly at how obviously forced the sound was.

hoshina gives you a long, scrutinizing stare. he then glances at your surrounding, making sure no one is around to eavesdrop. "alright, i know somethin' is wrong with ya. out with it," he presses. you make a gesture with your hand, attempting to brush it off. "no, no, i'm fine, sir! it's nothing, really—"

"it's just us here, y/n." hoshina cuts you off, mildly bothered that you're still addressing him in a formal way.

realizing you have no way out of this, you sigh in defeat. "it's my parents again... and their marriage shenanigans. they've been pushing me about it and if i don't make any progress, they'll have me do an omiai soon," you huff, kicking at a stray pebble on the asphalt.

born into a family who valued tradition above all, you've already known that you're going to be subjected to it soon enough. sure, your parents are proud that you're always out there saving the country, but true to their beliefs, there's no way they'd allow you to die a lonely maiden.

but for it to be conducted this early? you almost tear your hair out at the thought. you can barely cook anything to save your life!

knowing your parents, they'd probably pick your potential suitors from family friends or the sons of people they're close with at work. how can you stop that from happening, you wonder... hm, would eliminating them work? maybe let a honju go rampant near their houses— wait, no, no, stop! don't go there, y/n!

meanwhile, hoshina's eyes widen, blissfully unaware of your inner deviant thoughts. he's reminded of his own conversation he had with his father just a few weeks ago. it was exactly the same thing.

well, not that exactly.

his father only talked about how old he's getting and how nice it'd be to see some kids running around in the family estate. in other words, he's hoping for grandchildren.

hoshina vividly remembers the old man saying he 'doesn't want to bother soichiro because he's busy running a division'. he scoffs to himself. as if his job as a second-in-command isn't as important.

and as if he'd agree to marry some random woman his father picked for him anyway. because deep down in his heart, there's only one person he could see himself tying the knot with. though he never really indulges himself to acknowledge that fact, too afraid of what it could mean and the uncertainty of it to work out.

he watches as you continue to fuss over your dissatisfaction at the poor concrete below, panicking about the possibilities of getting a perverted and alcoholic old man as a husband and whatnot.

there's a notion in his head, it’s bugging him to voice it aloud. an idea, a way to dissolve this messed up situation the two of you have been thrown into.

and so he finds himself saying, "mind stopping by my office after we wrap up this operation?"

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

"i— we... excuse me?" you sputter in disbelief, gaping at your superior who's calmly leaning his hip against the desk behind him. you think this is the first time you've ever been this speechless in your whole life.

understandably, of course. never would you have thought that your family issues were something you can relate to that of hoshina's. and it's not every day you find yourself hearing your good friend suddenly proposes that you two get married. it's only a fake marriage though. but still.

"i know ya heard me the first time, y/n. don't make me repeat myself," hoshina gruffly says, shifting in his stance. little do you know there's a trail of cold sweat running down the back of his neck.

the line between your brows deepens even further. "sorry, it's just... i honestly don't know how to respond. are you sure you're up for something like that, hoshina?" you question.

"i wouldn't have brought it up if i'm not up to it. are you?"

you continue to ponder over your options, slightly stressing out because of how impetuous everything is.

it’s not like you think the idea is bad, no. if anything, you’d finally get to push your parents— and your whole family, in fact— off your back. god knows how many more ‘you’re getting old, y/n. it’s not good to marry so late. you’d lose your appeal as a woman, do you understand?’ you could take from your mother before you completely lose your mind.

your femininity is alright, but you don't think you'd make a fine wife-material out of yourself. then again, you're too much of a kind soul to outright say no to your parents about it. lying to them is a no-go either, for they'd always known how bad you are at lying and how hard it is for you to keep up the act.

it’s clear that the burdens of being a daughter in a family such as yours are too much for a benign spirit such as yourself to bear.

another thing is that your parents had once emphasized to take anyone but a defense force officer as your spouse. again, highlighting the fact that they don’t want you to suffer the despairing fate of a soldier; losing a partner in battle.

it’s not just that. there’s the case with hoshina too, where you think your relationship with him has always been in the grey area. you two are considerably close, though you’d rather describe it in a more-than-coworkers but less-than-best friends kind of way, given how the two of you have never actually confided in each other about something explicitly personal as this. so basically, this is the first time you’ve heard him confessing such problems to you.

apart from that, there were also some of those moments where you’d catch him doing something that threatened the thin, fragile line of your relationship. it’d send your mind into an impasse every time it happened, making you question about it more times than you’d care to admit.

although with that being the reason, you still end up agreeing to his proposal, knowing fully well the arrangement can bring you both mutual benefits.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the day you formally introduce yourself to the hoshina family turns out rather smooth. the meeting with your parents, however...

you don't think you've ever been this nervous before. not when you held your first ever presentation in school, not when you were anticipating your jakdf acceptance letter, and definitely not when you fought your first kaiju.

another first experience added to the list of that involving hoshina soshiro...

simply put, the entire meeting was nerve-wrecking.

as expected, your parents were skeptical with your so-called husband of choice. they interrogated the hell out of him, asking this and that, commenting on every little thing about him with the intention to see him squirm in his seat.

but you know hoshina. he's confidant, undeterred and he knows how to handle his opponents well. with honeyed, dialect-thickened answers slipping from his tongue at every turn, your parents gradually warm up to him.

if only you knew the praises he had uttered about you all came from his honest heart.

since then, your relationship with hoshina grows closer, born out of correlative understanding and acknowledgment towards your newly shared status as each others' spouses. both of your parents have dwindle down a bit with their pestering, now opting to support you two in their own ways.

hoshina becomes a tad bit more bold with his gestures too. he grazes his hand a lot more with yours, stands a bit closer to you until your shoulders brush, suspiciously eyeing men who he thinks were looking at you wrongly. he even asked captain ashiro to let him have the same meal times and off-duty hours as you.

"you called for me, captain ashiro— oh, vice-captain hoshina, you're here too!" you salute just as you step into the captain's office.

hoshina gives you an easy smile, one which you gladly mirror as you stand beside him in front of ashiro's desk, now consciously aware of the engagement ring you wore as a necklace hidden beneath your uniform and a complementary one you know is looped around his neck.

"at ease, y/n. i just called to ask whether you'd be alright with having a schedule change starting next week?" ashiro asks straight away, her attention still fixed on the papers in front of her.

your brows raise in confusion. "um... respectfully speaking, captain, since when do i have a say in something like this? i thought that's only for you to decide?"

"well, seeing as hoshina is the one who requested it, it's only right that i properly ask consent from you first, since it's your work hours we're discussing about here." she says.

ashiro then continues, not giving you and your 'husband' a chance to utter a single reply, "besides that, i'm quite surprised you're still calling him by his last name, given that you're also a hoshina now, y/n."

thoroughly amused, the captain revels in the way the two of you blush almost simultaneously, turning away from each other in bashfulness after being called out.

right, you forgot captain ashiro is the first person to know about the true nature of your relationship... and yet despite that, she genuinely roots for you two, praying that someday hoshina will eventually confess his painfully deep-rooted feelings for you.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

hoshina enjoys watching you in action. polite and kind personality off the field but with impeccable fighting abilities, your unleashed force could soar through the roof on a good day, and your hand-to-hand combat skills are considered on par with his own. not to mention your extremely high agility and fast reflexes, hoshina has rarely seen any kaiju catching you off guard mid-fight.

in short, you're strong. monstrously so.

he's reminded of that fact during one celebration party, where you've emptied one too many glasses, drunk out of your mind to even think straight.

"you know, soshiro-kun... this is like the best decision i've ever made! like, ever!!" you slur in between hiccups, cheeks flushed as your heavy eyes shine brightly at him.

your husband's slanted eyes crinkle at the corners in clear ardor, though you never noticed it due to your intoxicated state. "what decision? you mean drinkin' till you're all trashed and plastered like this?" he drawls with a teasing lilt in his tone.

hoshina lets you drunkenly lean the entirety of your weight on his side, an arm hovering just above your figure in case you fall over. choosing to indulge himself a bit, he rests his cheek on your head, taking in the soft scent of your shampoo.

most of the others celebrating around you don't even bat an eye, already used to the sight of you and the vice-captain being so physically close together. the new recruits never asked about your relationship. they just assume that you're already dating since they've seen you two like this even before they got officially appointed as officers.

though they have no idea how unbearably frustrating it was for the older members of the division to keep watching their vice-captain pine for you for years now.

one is hopeless, and the other is oblivious. it's sickening.

"ehhh, me? drunk? no, no! the decision is me marrying you, of course! i'm so happy i said yes to you that day! cheers to my lovely husband, guys!" you giddily hoot, raising another glass in the air before downing it all in one gulp.

and then chaos ensues.

shocked exclaims of "you two are married already?!", "wait, why was i not invited??", "since when?!", and among others fill the already rowdy hall.

hoshina internally combusts, his ears burning hot for he doesn't expect you to suddenly reveal your status like that but you seem so delighted about it that he doesn't have the heart to deny anything.

at the table beside you, furuhashi shouts in victory, "hah! i told you guys l/n-san and vice-captain hoshina are together! pay up, suckers!"

the swordsman raises a thin eyebrow at the new discovery. "that's quite a bet y'all made there. think some good extra laps could fit in somewhere?" he provokes.

the newbies sit upright, body rigid as they're about to send apologies his way but then you cut them all off.

"l/n? soshiro, you had a partner before me? am i getting in between your relationship?" you shakily ask in your hazy stupor, barely able to get your words out correctly as you jerk back, tears pooling in your eyes.

hoshina halts, finally realizing that you're too far gone to grasp that they were talking about you. "wait, what? that's not—" he tries to console, but you move fast, more so now that you're drunk. "no, don't touch me! i'm not a man-stealer, i swear!" you cry out.

before anyone can say or do anything, your fist connects with his jaw, so strong and forceful that the sound echoes in the hall as everyone else freeze in their spot, almost in horror at the spectacle.

the powerful yet underserving hit left hoshina's pretty face sporting a nasty bruise for the next few days, and it got you apologizing every chance you get.

nonetheless, at least he finds it endearing that you're not the type to handle your liquor well.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

another thing hoshina adores about you is that you're protective of the ones you care about.

he can distinctly recall the sagamihara neutralization operation when officers furuhashi and ichikawa had stumbled upon the humanoid version of no.9.

after losing connection with the two boys, you knew something was wrong at that moment. deciding to trust your instincts, you immediately head towards their last reported location, hoshina's concerned warnings from your earpiece going unheeded.

relief washed through you when you managed to arrive on time, though the sight of two direly injured officers made something boil deep inside your stomach.

your heart leaped to your throat when you see no. 9 with its hand out towards furuhashi, seconds away from blowing him to bits. with an enraged vigor, you lunged towards the man, pulling him behind you and aiming your gun at the monster before straight away pulling the trigger.

furuhashi cried out your name but you felt your pulse quicken then, not because of the daikaiju's hand separating from its arm and its core almost exposed due to your piercingly pin-point shot, but because of the figure appearing just behind no. 9. it was kaiju no. 8.

the next thing you knew, no. 9's head was flying away, and you held furuhashi closer, your aim changing its direction to the new humanoid kaiju. "keep still, furuhashi." you grit your teeth when you felt him stagger behind you, eyes narrowing warily at the way no. 8 gently handled ichikawa to sit up.

you wanted to question how it was possible for a kaiju to act in such a humanely way, but you figured that was something to be figured out later, as you now have two wounded officers to worry about.

hours later, as the mission came to an end, you approached hoshina who was seated on the ground with a sullen look on his face. "soshiro?" you called.

your husband immediately turned at the sound of your voice, clambering to a stand and dusting off his suit. "y/n! you're fine, thank gods," he exhaled before fussing over you, peering here and there to make sure you're not injured anywhere. "you're crazy, you know that? runnin' off to face against two daikaijus like that. ya had me worried sick!"

your fingers mindlessly fidget with the ring necklace, heart melting at his concerned sentiment. "sorry... i was worried too, you know. to hear furuhashi and ichikawa-kun getting isolated with an identified kaiju like that. they're under my care so i have to be responsible for their lives. and then you just had to go off and fight no. 8 on your own!" you huffed.

finding solace in his safety and well-being, you dropped your head to his shoulder and brought his own ring close to brush a kiss on the smooth surface of the glinting metal. "but i'm glad you're safe, soshiro," you murmured quietly.

when a tense silence greeted you, you slightly winced as embarrassment slipped into your conscious thoughts.

were you making him feel uncomfortable? fuck, you shouldn't have done that. you're just his fake wife, you don't have any right to succumb yourself to such intimacy with him.

you moved to pull away, but a palm situated itself on the back of your head, making you settle back on his shoulder. the hand felt warm, and so did hoshina's ears, cheeks, neck and anywhere his blood rush could reach.

"soshiro...?" your voice muffled on the material of his suit. his grip on you tightened just a little, an airy whisper of "stay," brushing against your ear almost affectionately. slowly, you snaked your arms around his back, burying yourself further into his welcoming embrace.

hoshina's mind seemed to settle. calm like the ocean waves during a slack tide, rustling like the tree leaves on a bright, sunny day. his feelings for you grew tenfold, adoration and love blossoming like flowers on a ripe spring season.

at that time, all he could think about is how much he desperately wanted to make you his real wife.

no official wedding ceremony written bcs my brain just couldn't come up with anything TT also i wanted to add more tension-filled scenes BUT I'M SO BRAINDEAD HELP I WANNA CRY

anyways, title inspired by yor's nickname, thorn princess hehe

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©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[tinybrooms]

Our Last Day, or maybe the first?.. - Thomas Hewitt x fem. Reader

Summary: Is Thomas last day on the slaughterhouse and a pretty girl is going to help him today...or forever

Warning: Murders, Workplace Harassmen, hard vocabulary

NOTE: This is my second one shot and it's pretty long, maybe i am thinking about a second part so let me know if you want that, hope you like it, comments and feed back is always welcome.

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A few months had passed since your work at the slaughterhouse had started, you were one of the few people who had been able to access education and that had given you the opportunity to work as the supervisor's secretary.

Your days were longer than normal dealing with the male staff who looked at your body with desire and said rude comments every time you passed beside them, as did your boss who took the opportunity a couple of times to touch your ass "by accident'' and called you to his office for useless tasks that ended with indecent comments.

They were all idiots, all except Thomas, he just dedicated himself to his work and every time you said "good morning" he responded with a slight grunt while bowing his head a little, always a gentleman like his mama taught him.

-I see you're already packing - your supervisor looked at you from the door frame while you put your things in a cardboard box.

-Yes, I'm almost done - you looked at him smiling kindly trying to ignore the uncomfortable look he had on your butt that was visible in your pencil skirt.

-Leave that there for a moment, I need you to go down and tell Thomas that he has to go, the animal is still cutting meat and doesn't want to go home - the old man took off his glasses, wiping them on his shirt regardless of the worried expression on your face.

-Do I… should I go? sir, I think the best thing would be…

-It's an order, you still work here, that's why I didn't want to hire women, they're always so useless- the disgusting man laughed mockingly as he walked to his office - get off your ass and get down right now

Your gaze quickly fixed on the large window of what was your place from where you could clearly see Thomas hitting the pieces of meat with his sharp knife making a sound against the wooden table, it took you a few seconds to take a breath and pass saliva to get down, the aroma of raw meat disgusted you too much, just like the blood spread all over the place, that was what bothered you more than anything else.

-Hello..Hello Thomas - you smiled behind his back while your hands played nervously in front of you - well, I think they had already informed you that the slaughterhouse is going to close today and..- you sighed, adjusting your cat-eye glasses on your nose sighing holding on not to get dizzy with the intense aroma of meat - and well you must go home

Thomas paused a little but after a few seconds he hit the flesh again with such force that he made you jump on your heels.

-Thomas…please don't make this more difficult, I don't want them to come down and scold you like they always do- Your voice lowered a little, almost in a whisper, trying not to let your supervisor hear you and get you both in trouble, but Thomas just continued ignoring your advice

-Don't you listen to what she said you damn animal? You won't work here anymore, go home with your stupid family - your supervisor came down the stairs, standing halfway screaming in the distance, making the huge man turn around with his knife in his hand, squeezing it so hard that his knuckles seemed like they would break the skin from his hand

Your eyes looked with at the man with glasses and then at Thomas with fear that something would happen, after all you were in the middle and the tension of both collided with your small and fragile body, that was when your poor gaze weakened between you in the dark and humid environment, you could notice how Thomas's hand was shaking and his breathing was agitated making his chest rise and fall.

-Thomas..please - with fear your hand extended making the giant barely look at you through his long locks of hair - no…it's not worth it - with fear you took his hand, it was the first time Thomas felt the skin of a woman against his and despite the anger he felt, his breathing was not still agitated because of it, but because of the delicate way your skin felt against his - give me that, I'll put it here okay? -You looked at him slowly taking the knife, placing it on the table and you smiled shyly walking away a few steps slowly so that he wouldn't feel threatened.

-That's it damn idiot, I bet you've never felt that before, huh?, You'll get so hard with this bitch that you'll forget why you came here- The disgusting old man laughed as he returned to his office, leaving the two of you alone, tense and nervous.

Thomas just looked at the floor shyly, he knew he was right, no one had ever touched him even by accident and that made him feel vulnerable.

-It's okay Thomas, don't worry about what he says go home, I hope you and your family are okay - you smiled at him again, turning around in a hurry, almost running to the bathroom, you could feel a knot in your stomach because of all the vices and meat that were scattered on the tables, crossing the long corridor in a hurry until you reached the bathroom where as soon as you opened the door you vomited.

Your knees on the cold floor and your hands holding your own hair made it impossible for you to hear what was happening outside, retching made your eyes water and after a few minutes with shaky legs you stood up wiping your lips with the front of your hand.

You took a little longer looking at yourself in the mirror, fixing the lipstick that had been ruined with your fingers and carefully washing your hands, always taking care of your image as mom had taught you since you were a girl.

After that you went to your desk putting away the few things that were left, a couple of photographs and your notebooks with notes that maybe would no longer work at all but you still wanted to keep them, after all they were from your first job so with the box of cardboard full of your belongings under your arm you prepared to go say goodbye to your boss.

-I'm done sir, is there anything I can do… -your feet stopped dead looking at the completely destroyed office, the desk was broken in half and there we re objects thrown all over the place- sir? - You walked in fear towards what looked like a pair of destroyed legs under the wood of the table and as soon as you got closer you could notice the old man lying in a pool of blood with his head shattered.

The box under your arm slid hard, making it sound on the floor as it fell while your hands covered your face and a loud scream came from your throat and you took steps backwards trying to get out of the traumatic scene until your back collided with a firm figure making you spin fast.

There was Thomas, looking at you with his strong breathing and his dark eyes like you had never seen before while he held a chainsaw in his hand.

-Thom..Thomas-you looked at him scared, walking back again in fear looking at his hand-leave…leave that, leave it on the floor

Only a growl came out of his throat, answering you firmly and confusedly, but it was definitely a refusal to your request.

-Please…don't hurt me, I won't say anything, I promise -your wet eyes and your heavy breathing made him doubt, of course you were going to say something, but in the same way he didn't want to hurt you, you were always kind to him, you were the only person who noticed him when he arrived and who received him every morning wishing him a good day.

Your eyes and his were staring at each other, as if either of you were waiting for a movement from the other to attack or to scream, whoever acted first was going to react to the other, but the sound of a car interrupted making both of you look towards the front door which after a few seconds opened and they both could notice Officer Hoyt entering with the gun in his hand.

-It's the police…- you looked at him again, curious as to how they could find out about the crime - Thomas, they are going to arrest you, if they find you they will take you with them.

The big man looked at the floor confused, realizing what he had done and a fear began to grow in him, not knowing what to do to remedy the mistake he had made.

-Come with me - you approached with fear, careful not to make any movement that would make him believe that you were going to attack him or that you were going to run away and again your hand held his so delicately that once again Thomas felt special - I will get you out of here

You hurriedly pulled his hand, his huge body almost following you, looking behind you in fear of being discovered, but at the same time in his mind he kept having that curiosity about how you had decided to help him after what he did, he was a murderer and what he had done was wrong

-Come, here there is a door through which we entered, it is far from the main door, no one will notice - you looked at him to make sure that he remained calm and after a few minutes walking you let go of his hand to push the door with both hands and help him escape - no one will find you if you get home quickly

Thomas shook his head, approaching you again but this time extending his hand, offering it to you while his head remained down and his eyes avoided looking at yours.

-Do you…do you want me to go with you? -You looked at him curiously with a little fear and he just slowly shook his hand indicating that he wanted you to take it so you carefully approached taking his hand, following his step when he began to walk without bothering his chainsaw in the other hand

The road was silent at first, just the two of you both walking along the side of the road under the strong Texas sun, at no time letting go of the other's hand, which in the same way if you wanted to you couldn't do it, his hand was huge and strong making Yours will be hidden between his thick fingers.

-And…is anyone from your family at home right now? -You looked at him curiously, feeling stupid knowing that he wouldn't answer you but he just nodded with his head without taking his eyes off the front-Oh really?…is…your mother?

He denied and you continued asking trying to guess who was home, feeling stupid and insistent.

-Well, your uncle? -You looked at him, sighing in relief when he nodded, looking at you with a touch of innocence that was difficult for you to believe after knowing that he had ended your boss's life - oh really? That's good…I'm alone you know, my mom moved to Austin a week ago and I told her I would go with her as soon as I finished my work.

Thomas looked at you stopping his pace, his gaze was the same as always but his eyebrows furrowed with some sadness making you also look at him without knowing what was happening.

-Something happens? I said something wrong? Thomas, sorry, I didn't want to…- your free hand barely moved on your chest, trying to make him understand that you were sorry from the bottom of your heart, but he barely grunted denied and leaving your hand, his finger carefully touched the center of your chest and then touched himself pointing at him - you?…I don't understand

He again pointed at you and then at him almost desperately as if he wanted to let you know what he wanted to say but his words did not come out and your little understanding of him was almost impossible.

-You…do you want…me?…Do you want me to stay…with you? - Thomas nodded, taking your hand again walking without waiting for you to take a step, making you stumble - but, I can't…

His hand gave a strong squeeze to yours making you moan a little in surprise, an action that made him feel something strange, that was also something new that he had heard from a girl,

-I really would like to stay but I have to go with my mother- your eyes kept looking at the road trying not to trip again but then you fixed them on him when you didn't hear any grunt from him, at this point you had already understood that this was his way of communicating.

But the road became even quieter, only your footsteps could be heard on the asphalt and from time to time a sigh came out of your mouth due to the suffocating heat you felt on your forehead.

It was a couple of meters ahead when again the sound of a car behind you made you turn your head, feeling relief but worried when you noticed the police car stopping in the middle of the road.

-Hands up son, stay away from that poor girl - Officer Hoyt pointed at Thomas, cutting the cartridge from his gun.

Thomas knew what that sound meant, he had heard it many times when he saw Charlie and Monty hunting, so with his hand he pushed you a little away from him worried that something bad could happen to you.

It was your time to run away, you could run and get away until you lost sight of them but something made you stay there, watching as the policeman pointed his gun at Thomas and honestly inside you just felt scared that something could happen to him.

-Sir, he didn't do anything wrong to me, we were just walking…- you looked at him trying to fix the situation, believing that that would be enough for him to leave.

-I saw what he did in the slaughterhouse sweetheart, you should not protect this damn animal- Hoyt looked at you for a second to return his attention to the big man in front of him. -You murdered a man ya’know, you will go to prison for what ya’did

You could feel your breathing really hard, nervous and afraid that a bullet could come out and hurt Thomas, after all yes, he murdered a man but he did it to defend himself after all the bad things that they had been done to him and in the same way , it was not such an exemplary man who died, so it had not been a great loss

-We have a problem, sheriff - your attention quickly focused on an elderly man who was holding a shotgun and shot without thinking killing the officer, again your hands covered your face while you screamed in fear.

-Calm down your little girlfriend, Thomas - the man laughed, approaching the body and a pair of hands held your shoulders delicately, making your hands lower in fear, looking at the giant in front of you.

-I want this to stop, I don't want to see any more people die - you looked at him crying with fear - I don't want to be next, I've only been good to you, please don't hurt me.

-No one will hurt you darling- the old man laughed as he placed the sheriff's hat over his cap - This is the girl who's been making you hard for months uh Tommy? She is very pretty, of course we won't do anything bad to her right?

The fear inside you grew more and more, this man was even more disgusting than your boss was and it seemed that like Thomas, he had the idea that from today you would be part of the family and you would stay with them forever

Thomas looked at the man next to him, giving him a growl and standing in front of you looking at him threateningly.

-What? you're in love? - his laugh was louder this time - okay, I won't say anything to your little doll, now come here and put the sheriff in the trunk before he stink.

Thomas took a couple of steps and effortlessly took the officer's lifeless body and placed it in the trunk without difficulty, all in front of your disbelieving eyes.

-Come on honey get in the car, we have to go home with mama after all she has to meet her new girl

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Thanks for reading

Part 2 here!

[yuwuta]

HOW DID YOU GET USED TO THE HAUNTING, THE WILLING, THE MISSING, THE WANTING — YUUTA OKKOTSU

content, warnings. more of the knight yuuta universe yippee. i got an ask about telling him he’d make a good prince and flustering him, and that struck something in me, though this interpretation of that ask is probably a bit darker/more serious than envisioned... i will publish the ask w the other version of this scenario too. unfortunately for everybody involved i was a theater kid and i did listen to cell block tango and the first half of hamilton before i had this idea </3 i’m sorry if you can tell

more notes. set in the same universe as this drabble, which are all set in the same universe as a full fic draft i have and would love to finish some day lol. anyway, say hello to the gojo of this au 

You are not ready to be queen. As much as you resent your mother, your father, the elders in the cabinet, the system you were raised in—as much as you wish to be a ruler that creates change and peace in your court and kingdom, you know that you are not ready to hold that position. 

It shows now more than ever, with your parents being escorted to a neighboring kingdom for a meeting, and you in charge of the harvest ball. There is china to be chosen, silverware to be polished, candlesticks to be blessed, gowns to be sewn, a menu to be curated, a ballroom to be prepared—and you are sorely behind on all of your duties. 

A lackluster princess does not make for a promising queen. And distractions do not help you become anything of yourself. 

“I do not have time to discuss the lilies Sir Gojo. I am aware they are drooping and that they are your favorite, but I do not control the weather,” you sigh, handing back a scroll to a maid before turning to your head knight.

“That sounded very queenly, my little lady! You’ve been practicing,” he towers above you, with a growing smile and little care for your position. He bends forward to press the tip of his gloved pointer finger to your nose, “I too mourn the lilies, but I am afraid I agree: we have much more pressing matters to discuss. Come along, shall we?” 

You’ve learned to be wary of Sir Gojo’s words over the years. He often leads with a false timbre, or makes otherwise simple conversation into a riddle for his own amusement. Even as you’ve learned when to ignore his games, you’ve also grown appreciative of his light demeanor, and his insistence on speaking to you directly, rather than shielding you away. 

You take his arm, looping yours through his, and allow him to lead you down the courtyard steps and into the grand garden. You put your trust in him, allowing your feet to follow the path he sets, and letting your mind wander. You wonder whether you should set the gold or bronze-trimmed plates for the ball, if the curtains should remain closed or open, if the embossed or embellished silverware would leave a better impression on your guests. 

“Princess?” your knight calls for you. You focus your attention back to him, apologizing for your lapse in attention. 

You expect a smile, perhaps another press to your nose and a light scolding, but Gojo’s expression is much more neutral. “Sir?”

“I said that Lord Hajime is dead. His court will send a representative to the harvest ball, but how would you like to proceed?” 

“Dead?” your breath hitches momentarily, “Was he unwell?” 

“I do not know. The letter gave no detail. I believe the court sent an apology for not being able to deliver a suitor as promised. The family wishes to keep this private until after the harvest.” 

When you look up to him, you see no mischief in his expression. He’s serious, and you feel lightheaded, warm, and icy all at once. “I see,” you say, and pull away from Gojo’s arm, “Excuse me. I—I need a moment to myself.”

“You are sick? So suddenly?” Gojo asks, turning with your body so that his back is never to you.

“No—I… I… I need to be alone,” you confess, wrapping your arms around themselves, curling into your own body. Gojo stands firm, a short nod in understanding. He raises his hand to make a signal; an order for the knights on the periphery who can see but not hear. 

You smile, small, grateful for him. “Please, arrange our finest favors, and ask Ieiri for her favorite elixir.” 

Gojo’s smile reflects yours, albeit stained with more sympathy. “Of course.” 

“And tell the maids that I shall postpone the table placements until tomorrow morning. Should you find yourself with time to spare, let me know if you prefer the bronze to gold trim.” 

Gojo nods, taking a half-step to stand in front of you. In times like these, you feel like the little princess under his watch and care from when you were younger. His presence is frightening, overwhelming, and yet, more comforting and welcoming than your own parents. 

Carefully, he leans down to whisper, “Yuuta and his fleet have not yet returned, he will not be in the knight’s chambers. I will send him to you when he arrives.” You blink in sudden awe, and Gojo smiles, reaches for your hand and raises it to his lips to press a chaste kiss, “Do not regret too long, princess.” 

You hear him before you see him. It’s a bad habit for a knight, you think; you can always hear or feel where Yuuta is, even if you can’t see him. You think he ought to be more stealthy, more secretive, quieter; but then again, you don’t. He reserves plenty of stealth for his motives, stores plenty of secrets in his mind, keeps his words quiet or has a way of keeping other people’s quiet. 

The throne room is cold. It’s your least favorite room in the castle, but tonight, you hope it inspires you.

You don’t sit on your throne, you don’t sit on your mother’s or your father’s; you don’t sit at all. You stand, at the top of the stairs, staring at the seats and the tapestry and the paintings of your forefathers that decorate the backdrop. Behind you, at the base of the stairs, Yuuta kneels. You don’t need to see him to know; you can feel it on your palms with your hands behind your back; you can see it in the eyes of your grandfather’s portrait, you can hear it in the way his knee hits the carpet. 

“You may stand.” 

“I shouldn’t, my lady,” Yuuta replies, “Not here.” 

“You do many things you shouldn’t,” you sigh, steady, “Stand, Yuuta.” 

You hear the metal of his armor rustle against itself. You can feel when he stands; it feels like he’s right behind you, even though you know he’s ten steps below you. 

You inhale, slowly; exhale, slowly. Clench your hands behind your back, and then relax your shoulders the way you’ve seen your grandfather do. Then, you speak. “Lord Hajime is dead.” 

You turn, slowly, and wait until your cape has finished its turn, has settled behind you again before you speak again; a tactic your grandmother was fond of. “Lord Hajime is dead,” you repeat, “He is dead, and I asked you not to kill him.” 

Yuuta looks up to you. Neck craned, hands neatly behind his back, his helmet on the carpeted floor to his left. He does not look small. 

You take a step downwards. “I said this is not how I wanted matters to be resolved.” Another step down, a pause, then repeat, “I said that I do not wish to resort to violence.” Another step down, a pause, “To resort to murder.” Another step down, hurried, “I stood under my balcony,” another step, “and I told you not to murder Lord Hajime. I told you not to kill him,” another step; a pause, hysterical, “And yet Lord Hajime is dead. He is dead because—”

“I did not kill him.”

You pause your descent, four steps above Yuuta. You are only half a head taller than him like this. At this distance you can see the gray of his irises, wide and speckled with brown, without a shred of remorse pooling within them. It makes you sneer. 

“You expect me to believe that it is a coincidence that a fortnight after I catch you on your way to murder Lord Hajime, that he dies?” you question, rhetorical, “I am naive, but I am not a fool, Yuuta.” 

“You are no fool, my princess, and Lord Hajime was no saint,” Yuuta shakes his head, “He was a tyrant. He took three wives prior and treated them all as whores. He alone was responsible for the destruction of the crops in the north. He had only himself to blame.” Yuuta pauses, and you see something melt behind steely eyes. “It was a murder, yes, but not a crime.”

Yuuta’s lips wobble slightly, but the rest of him remains upright. It always goes like this: first his head, then his heart, then his body following—in everything he does. You blink, slowly, and take another step down; eye-level with Yuuta at this height. 

“You did not kill him,” you repeat, leveled with revelation, “You just gave the order.” 

Yuuta’s eyelids fall slowly, then his head follows in a shallow nod. He keeps his neck bent, keeps his head hung in front of you. You sigh. 

“Who was it this time,” you ask. He does not raise his head; you do not wait for him to speak, you dip your head so that your lips are level with his ears. “Megumi? Surely he would have hated the way Lord Hajime treated his livestock. Maybe Yuuji—he has been impatient to prove himself since recovering from his last injury. Or perhaps Toge, he would’ve done it swiftly in his sleep, without a sound.”

Yuuta keeps his gaze on the floor, keeps his words quiet. “Nobara.” 

“Dame Nobara, who strives to replace you as my first blade?” you question, “What, as some kind of test of loyalty to you?” 

Yuuta raises his head, eyes stern, brows drawn. “No, princess. To you.” 

You freeze. Your anger flares, and then subsides to only weak embers as you understand Yuuta’s motives, and Sir Gojo’s final words to you. You’re careful when you reach forward to brush your knuckle against Yuuta’s cold cheek, only the kiss of a touch between your finger and his face; even, still, he shudders, and you watch him melt from head to toe; from his eyebrows to his eyes to his lips to his shoulders to his knees. 

“You are disobedient, and indignant, and ruthless,” you list, voice soft, touch softer as you allow your fingers to graze the top of his ears, adoring the flush that follows, “And kind, and careful, and charming.”

You watch the color stain Yuuta’s cheeks and his ears, you revel in the pout on his lips, and the effort of his breathing. You only wish he were this easy to tame all the time. 

Still, he precious to you, so you are careful when you raise your opposite hand to his face, taking advantage of the difference in your status and stature to tilt his head upwards, lean down and press your words against his cheek, “You would make for a lovely prince,” you tell him, “The people would love you. Our enemies would fear you. The soldiers would respect you.” The kisses between your sentences are featherweight, trailed from the high point of his cheekbone to the corner of his lips.

You can feel him quiver when you pull back, moving a palm back to his cheek to pinch his skin between your thumb and forefinger, “If only you knew how to listen.” 

Yuuta winces, but he does not pull away. He parts his lips to steady his breath, and then to speak, strained, “Please, princess. Have mercy.” 

And for the first time in a fortnight you smile, watching splotched skin stain your knight’s cheeks when you soften your hold on him. You pull Yuuta’s head up further, lean yours down for a careful kiss; short, chaste, the kind you know he hates the most. 

“Oh, Yuuta,” you coo, grazing your thumb against his face, endeared by his wide eyes and quiet whimpers, “This is mercy.”

[camryn-haitani]

you can take us, can't you?

Sam and Colby x Fem reader

you, Sam, and Colby were hanging out by the pool. you decided to go to the hot tub to warm up when Sam followed you. and things took a turn for the better

TW: p in v sex, degrading and praising, squirting, deep throating, recording, fingering (Fem receiving), body worship, fingering in hot tub (also Fem receiving), cursing, sir and daddy calling, pussy eating, masturbating, cum eating, ass slapping, smelling (Colby smells her a few times), pet names (too many to count), unprotected sex, after care

here's the long awaited part 2 <3

I'm sorry for making y'all wait😭

also ion know whats goin on with my caps on my i's. like some are capitalized and some aren't. oh well🤷

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you were extremely bored. like to the point where you were staring at the ceiling counting the spikes from the ceiling popcorn. you decided to text Sam and Colby in y'all's group chat to see if they wanted to hang out

Spooky Gang😱

you: hello my favorite paranormal investigators, I am very bored and have come here to bother both of yall

Colbs<333: wanna come over and swim princess?

Sam<333: anything for you darling

you: stooooop y'all flatter me🤭

you: but yes I'd love to come and swim. I'll be there in 30<3

Sam<333: we'll be waiting angel🖤

i put down my phone and start to get ready. Colby was already at Sam's so I didn't have to worry about him. i put on a baggy shirt and colbys hoodie wrapped around my waist with my bathing suit underneath. I didn't see a reason to wear pants or shorts so I didn't. i get to my car and I drive to Sam's

Colby POV

i was talking with Sam when I hear a car pull up. we both look at each other and thought the same thing. "shit, y/n's here..". we both swallow the lump in our throats and wait for her to get inside.

we hear the door open and there she is, all in her glory. i snapped out of my ogling over her and meet her at the door.

"hey pookies, how are ya?" she asked as she sets down her keys. "we're ok, what about you?" Sam asks. "hot, extremely hot and bored. sooooo why don't we jump in the pool?" she says as she takes off my hoodie from her waist. 'now it's gonna smell like her.' I take the hoodie from her and go to the kitchen. i make sure she couldn't see me and I smell the hoodie. her scent is so addicting, I can't get enough of it. i put it down before I'm caught.

we all go outside and get undressed down to our bathing suits and y/n just jumps in. she comes out of the water and gets out and comes to where me and Sam are. she bats her eyes innocently at me and holds my hand. i raise an eyebrow but I catch onto her motives. my eyes widen as I realize what she's doing. she pulls me into the pool.

"holy shit! oh my god it's cold!" Sam yells. "oh shut up, it's fine" she says. she starts floating around the pool when me and Sam have an idea.

we get out of the pool and surround her. she opens one of her eyes to look at us and we jump on her. she sinks underwater and comes back up gasping for air. "you little fucks."

Y/n POV

after their little stunt, I get cold and head to the hot tub. i step in and sink under the hot water. my nose and up are the only thing above the water until I feel something else come in. i open my eyes and see who it is. 'oh it's just Sam.' I think to myself.

i look around the pool and see that colbys not there. 'he must've gone inside'. i feel hands wrap around my waist and pull me up "hey what the fu-". I felt lips on mine. hungry and passion filled lips. I'm in shock when I see Sam kissing me and I'm in his lap, straddling his waist.

i kiss him back with the same energy he is with me. his hands move my body back and forth and I hear him groan against my mouth. i put more body weight onto him and he pulls back.

"do you know how much you drive us crazy, darling?" he questions. i shake my head no. "want me to show you?" he whispers against my neck. "yes please." he kisses up my neck and down my jawline while his hand snakes down to my bottoms. he hooks his finger around the fabric and pulls them aside. Sam teases his finger around my hole and grazes his fingertip on my clit. i hiss at the contact and my forehead reaches his shoulder. "you're so beautiful, angel. Colby was right, you get so sensitive." he whispers against my neck. 'colby talked about me?' I say to myself.

"w-wait, we can't do this here. there's no telling what's in the pool." i panic. "yeah, you're right." he says. he picks me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him. he carries me to the beach chair (I forgot what they're called, bear with meT-T) and lays me down. he yanks down my suit bottoms and runs his tongue up and down my slick folds. my hand quickly finds it way to his hair and grips onto it. "fuck Sam!" not expecting him to do that.

he slips his two middle fingers into me and sucks on my clit. his movements pick up as he harshly sucks on my clit. that familiar knot in my lower stomach forms while I can't even form words. "sa- cum-... fuck... Sam... plea...." i stutter out. "gonna cum, sweetheart? gimme a few more minutes love, you taste divine." he dives back into my pussy.

he stops before I can cum. i whine as I throw my head back. "wh...why?" i give him a questioned look. "I'm gonna wait for Colby, darling." he stands back up and picks me up. my bathing suit bottoms still on the concrete. i wrap my arms and legs around him. he shoves his two fingers back into me as I moan in his neck. he continues to finger me as he takes me back inside.

Colby POV

*this was when you went to the hot tub. also this is just a quick Colby pov*

i take my leave and go inside. i dry off and head to the kitchen. I'll let Sam have her for a moment. i see my hoodie and pick it up to smell it again. my eyes rolls back as I get hard from her raw scent. "fuuuuuck" I draw out. i go to my room and immediately take off my swim shorts. i jump on my bed and start to jerk off to hy own fucking hoodie. i place it on my head so it covers my nose and I start masturbating. her smell alone drives me crazy, it already makes me want to cum.

a good few minutes go by and I feel myself get more sensitive and the knot in my stomach breaks as I cum all over my stomach. i take my fingers and just lick it up. I have no shame in eating my own cum, so I do anyway. I hear the door open and I see who it is

Y/n POV

Sam is still finger fucking me as he walks and with every step he takes, his fingers go deeper into me. god it feels so good, I can't get enough of it. i hear Colby come up from behind me and grabs my face to make me look at him. "you gonna be a good girl for us, doll?" i can only nod as I still can't speak words. "nuh uh, I need words, slut." he grips my face tighter. "yes sir, I'll be so good for y'all"

"that's what I thought. can I have her Sam?" he looks at him. "all yours." Colby takes me to his room as Sam follows. he tossed me carelessly on his bed and I look over to see the hoodie I wore over here. 'oh hey there's my hoodie..... what's that?' I question. i pick it up and I see there's cum on it. i look at Colby to see that him and Sam are setting up a camera. 'shit... they're gonna record this.'

"hey Colby?" i ask. he comes over and runs his hands on my chest. "yes baby?" "uhm why is there-" "cum on 'your' hoodie?" he finishes for me. he leans down and starts to smell my stomach. "you smell angelic, sunshine. I couldn't resist."

Sam finishes setting up the camera and comes to where we are and starts pulling down his shorts. i hear the water filled shorts fall on the floor and Sam's cold hands touch my chest. "you ready for us, dear?" i nod my head as I feel two fingers slip into me. "what did I say about words, babes?" Colby grips my face again. "I'm sorry.... y-yes I'm ready" I answer.

Colby walks around to the other side of the bed and takes off his swim shorts. his dick slapping against the side of my face. Sam walks back over to the camera and starts recording. colbys tip presses against my lips, waiting to enter my mouth. Sam gets on his knees and grips my legs so they're over his shoulders. his tongue presses onto my clit ever so lightly. my cold hands run over colbys waist. i feel him shiver against my touch.

"you ready Sam?" Colby asks. "as I'll ever be." he answers. at the same time, Colby shoves his dick in my mouth as Sam slips his tongue in my pussy. i moan around Colby as he thrusts into me with no remorse, while Sam takes his times tasting me.

i get flipped over to where I'm on my stomach, not stopping my movements with Colby. sama nose brushes against my aching hole while he laps up my clit. 'colbys about to cum' I tell myself. i grab his waist like last time and deep throat the rest of him in me while he grips the back of my head, pushing me further than I was. his cum slipping down my throat.

my thighs clench around Sam's head as I'm nearing my high. "I can feel you, you bout to cum, love?" Sam teases. "mhm yes yes" I nod. "she's done such a good job, she deserves a reward" Colby coos as he lifts my head to look at him.

i reach that ever so god feeling high Sam gave me after denying me earlier and I get flipped back onto my back. "now darling, we won't hold back unless you want us to, mkay?" Sam says. i start to nod when I remember Colby. "yes sir" I say.

Sam lines himself up with my hole. Colby starts feeling my chest and stomach again, smelling all of me. Sam gives me a look saying 'you ready?' and I nod. "what did I say about using your words, slut?" Colby grabs my face with his hand again. "thats what? the third time? i think you need a punishment, hm?"

"no no no no please daddy m'sorry. won't happen again." i plead. "hm too late princess, now take my dick like the whore you are." he takes his opportunity and slides his dick back in my mouth

Sam pushes his way into me as I'm busy with Colby ramming his cock back into my throat. the pleasure from both of them is too much. 'i feel like I'm about to pee myself' I know I'm not but it feels like it. next thing I knew, I felt relieved of that pressure. i open my eyes to see both of them looking down at me and sams chest being all wet. i feel Sam and Colby throb in both my mouth and my pussy. "shit you're gonna need to do that more often sweetheart because that was so hot." Colby says as he lens down to smell me once more. his cock still gliding in and out of me.

Sam's thrusts get more erratic and Colby gets more harsh. i can tell both of them are about to cum, as am I. i pull Colby more into me because it seems to get him to cum and I pull my legs around Sam to pull him closer. i feel both of their cum dripping in me as they both pull out.

colby goes and gets a washcloth to clean us up as Sam stops recording and cleans himself up in the bathroom.

"I will definitely be sending this to you" Sam tells me

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YAYAYA I DID IT

Also have some Sam and Colby pics