#elevator mishap

[i-did-not-mean-to]

MAY-U - Russingon

This one has been written for @urwendii! It was such fun to write a Modern!AU Russingon, which is, as everybody knows, one of my all-time favourite things to do!

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon

Prompts: University - Elevator Engineer - I can think of worse company

Words: 2 200

Warnings: Stuck elevator, daring rescue mission, some body contact :D (they're still half-cousins in canon!)

“Oh shit!”

Fingon stared at the screen of his tablet in dismay—how could he have missed so flagrant an error?

Beneath him, there was a faint screeching, scraping sound, but he was too engrossed in his calculations to pay it any heed until it suddenly stopped.

Another wave of blind panic and self-recrimination washed over him, but he tried to counteract that utterly useless instinctive reaction by reminding himself that nobody even used this particular elevator. Everything was fine!

Sweat beaded along his spine—the presentation of his thesis was only weeks away, and the current setback did not exactly inspire much confidence in his eventual success.

He’d wanted to revolutionise the field of elevator engineering; a humble and rather dull aspiration one might well think, but Fingon had devoted himself to this task with as much boundless enthusiasm as he put in any of his numerous other projects and dreams.

Brow creased and lips pinched, he thus gave his meticulous computations another hard stare. Ah! Yes, if he just…

His stroke of genius that would save his academic career and the rotten, old elevator was rudely interrupted by a muted banging, followed by a voice calling out in so polite a tone and wording that Fingon was quite taken aback.

He’d not believed ghosts to be so extraordinarily courteous!

“Hello? Is someone there? The intercom seems to be out of order! Hello? The button is not working!”

Intercom? Button?

Oh Eru! Setting his tablet aside, Fingon groaned. This was just his luck! On the one instance all his efforts failed, there had to be a witness, enmeshed against their will in his entirely avoidable defeat.

Moreover, he couldn’t remember ever having heard a voice half as rich and enchanting as the one rising like a swirl of enticing mist at dawn from the dark abyss of mechanical malfunction.

“There’s a little problem with the elevator,” he called back, half-holding on to the ludicrous idea of merely being haunted by the phantom of inadequacy. “Hang on! Are you injured?”

“I thought as much,” came the deadpan reply from below. “Do you think it could be solved within…let’s say thirty minutes? I’ve got a lecture to attend, but I’m otherwise unharmed.”

“Students are not allowed in this part of the building,” Fingon said smugly, biting his lip when he realised that he, at least on the face of it, was a mere student too.

“I’m aware,” the other answered levelly. “I’m the lecturer, not an attendee. It’s my first one, though, and I’d hate to be a no-show. So, I repeat my question, can this hiccup be ironed out within the next half hour?”

His mind racing through a quick tabulation of what had to be done for the elevator to resume function at all, Fingon came to the inevitable conclusion that he’d have to disappoint the poor wretch.

He was about to say so when he saw movement in the elevator shaft. A moment later, the top hatch flew open and a silken mass of reddish hair, gleaming like burnished copper, appeared.

“Erm,” Fingon mumbled hesitantly, perched precariously on the edge of the control room entrance as he stared, mesmerised, at the stuck cabin just a few meters away. He remembered vaguely that he’d been about to say something, but the exact words had momentarily fled his mind.

The impressive mane shifted, and a pale, shapely face became visible, gleaming like marble in the unprepossessing brushed metal window.

“Ah! You’re still there,” the beauteous man with the magnetic voice smiled. And what a smile it was—Fingon relied on his excellent reflexes to avoid toppling to his death in his eagerness to lean towards that discreet siren call. “I take your silence as a negative, am I right? Maybe…I could climb out and try to pry open the elevator doors?”

Blinking, Fingon struggled to make sense of the sentence he’d just heard; his whole mind and soul were too thoroughly consumed by the near-transcendental charm of the mysterious apparition to focus on anything other than the way those pale lips twitched, and these light grey eyes twinkled with determination.

“Won’t work,” Fingon then croaked miserably. “The many outdated and outright perilous features of the elevator are exactly what I’m trying to amend and improve.”

“Do you have to use the elevator to get down from there?”

A long, slender arm—clad in perfectly ironed grey linen—was swung over the lip of the hatch, slamming a heavy leather bag against the roof of the cabin.

“I’m Maedhros, by the way,” the stranger, now halfway out of his metal cage, wheezed.

“Fingon. Yes. No,” Fingon took a shivering breath; he couldn’t fully grasp how so deplorably static a situation could be “too fast-paced” for his befuddled brain to follow. “I would have taken the elevator,” he tried anew, “but there’s an old door leading outside. I don’t think it has been used in years, and I’d have to walk all the way around and through the building to get back to my office, but theoretically, it could be done!”

“Nice to meet you, Fingon,” Maedhros said, his inflexion just ambiguous enough to make Fingon’s eyebrow quirk in suspicion. “If that is so, I shall come up and use that door if it’s all the same to you.”

His mouth opening to let out an incredulous guffaw, Fingon felt his breath hitch in his throat instead as the other lifted himself completely out of the blasted elevator.

He was huge—Fingon gasped like a schoolgirl, and then, he realised that he’d heard other faculty members discuss the very man, shading his eyes to look up at him hopefully.

The gossip and envious praise surrounding the new lecturer, pretty as a summer day and cold as a winter’s night, had hitherto been buried under far more pressing considerations, and Fingon had simply failed to connect the dots until now.

“Antique languages and societies, right?” he muttered distractedly.

At once, Maedhros’s face lit up. “That’s me—I see I’ve made quite an impression. I hope in a good way.”

A muscle twitched in his left cheek, and Fingon realised with a jolt of incredulity that this man—so self-possessed in the face of adversity and gorgeous enough to be eaten raw—was insecure about how people might perceive him.

“Whatever I’ve heard, it does not do you justice,” Fingon replied before getting a grip on his thoughts. “And words like ‘angelic’ and ‘mouth-watering’ have been used liberally.”

“Ah, sometimes I wish I was interested in women,” Maedhros replied sheepishly, tucking his narrow chin against his chest as if embarrassed. “They’re always so kind and generous to me.”

“I’ve never said a word about the fairer sex,” Fingon commented slyly.

That off-hand remark managed what a defective lift and a very athletic escape hadn’t achieved—Maedhros was positively speechless.

This, Fingon decided, was the worst possible moment to suggest physical contact, but if that masterpiece of human anatomy wanted to make it to his lecture in time, he would have to go along with Fingon’s half-baked plan.

“I can come down and push you up,” he said carefully. “There is a desk, nailed to the floor, in the corner, and you might just be tall enough to wedge in your feet to keep you steady. Or…you can just leave me here—I deserve that.”

“Nonsense!” Maedhros laughed, extending his arms and broadening his stance. “Come down, I’ll catch you.”

Feeling like the maiden heroine in an old-timey novel, Fingon twisted and turned until he could let his feet dangle into the void while holding on for dear life to the sharp-edged rim of the square door in the floor of the control room.

Strong arms were slung around his thighs.

“Let yourself slide down slowly—I’ve got you,” Maedhros promised.

“Take care, I’ve been told repeatedly that my ass is a danger to society!” Fingon warned, mortified at the thought that his new, exciting acquaintance would find himself smothered in the bulging flesh of his rotund behind.

“Consider me duly warned,” the victim-turned-saviour chuckled. “Now let go!”

Sending an arrow prayer to whatever Vala was available, Fingon slowly unclasped his aching fingers.

For a heartbeat, he was floating on a wave of fragrant warmth before the tight rope of living flesh slid up along his body, leaving a lingering sensation of flames licking at his sensitive skin that drove him half-insane with entirely improper want.

“Good day to you, Fingon. I’m sorry to admit that, according to my various brothers’ assessments, my behind is disgustingly bony. You might have been wise to bring gloves if you plan on pushing me up!” Maedhros chirped when Fingon turned around, at once lost in the wavering grey sea of the other’s luminous eyes.

“I thought I’d simply give you a boost,” the prospected engineer mumbled.

“I might need more than that,” Maedhros said with a wink.

Fingon remembered only too well how that man had hoisted himself out of the elevator cabin without any assistance, but he was smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I wouldn’t dream of wearing gloves then,” he said with a crooked grin accentuating his dimples in a way his mother qualified as “unfairly adorable”.

Without further ado, he gave Maedhros a leg up.

Twisting his head to flash a mischievous grin at his flushed helper, the tall redhead purred, “Push, my man, push!”

As his blood seemingly couldn’t decide what vital organ to provision, Fingon felt light-headed and deliciously dizzy, craning his neck to observe Maedhros’s less-than-graceful ascent which soon came to a suspicious halt, leaving the long, svelte legs swinging like the pendulum of an enchanted clock.

A man of action to his core, Fingon brazenly cupped the perky ass dangling before him and heaved.

He thought that his mind was deserting him for good—Maedhros, instead of using the momentum, seemed to grow heavier. Even though he’d managed to get a handhold on the doorframe above him, he throned on Fingon’s trembling hands like a king of yore.

“Ticktock!” Fingon reminded him half-heartedly.

“Shame, really,” Maedhros sighed and pulled himself through the hole in one powerful, fluid motion.

“If you could throw down my tablet…I shall spend the rest of the day trying to fix this mess,” Fingon called dejectedly. He was profoundly disgusted with how his first meeting with the most talked-about man on campus had gone down, and—despite his cheery, optimistic soul—he knew that he’d gnaw on this humiliating day for a long while.

“I think you’d be more comfortable here,” Maedhros objected. “Throw up my bag, and then I’ll pull you up, Mister Engineer. Trust your plan—it will work out!”

There was the clanging noise of furniture being shuffled around and the old desk creaking in protest, and then those long arms dropped back into Fingon’s field of vision, bracketing a beautifully flushed face.

“Come on!” Maedhros grinned in a heartening tone.

With a soft sigh, Fingon extended his own arms. Maedhros had rolled up his sleeves, and Fingon’s clasped his fingers around lean, freckled forearms firmly at the same time as he felt long, cool digits close against his own skin.

Again, he couldn’t deny how embarrassingly marvellous and precious it made him feel to be lifted as if he was but a dainty, little thing rather than a bulky young man.

Pushing himself off with as much vigour as he could muster to contribute as much as he could lest Maedhros throw out his back in this ludicrous sequence of daring rescues, he shot through the hole and landed flat on a surprisingly broad, well-muscled chest.

Much of an engineer he was, he thought hazily before the slowly blossoming smile of the much put-upon victim of his idiocy rendered the very act of forming coherent concepts patently impossible.

“You owe me a dinner,” Maedhros smirked. “At the very least.”

“Anything for a new colleague,” Fingon squeaked, afraid that if he thought too long on how his breath intermingled with Maedhros’s, he’d be tempted to kiss that rosy mouth until both their careers were irremediably damaged by their failure to show up where they were needed.

A moue of disappointment distorted Maedhros’s hitherto perfectly amiable visage.

“Ah! Maybe you could score one of those ladies that speak of me so nicely,” he said cautiously without making any attempt to shift Fingon’s crushing weight off his pinned body.

“May I remind you, I’ve still not brought up a single ‘lady’. Either way, you better run to your lecture. If, once the rush of adventure has worn off, you still want to spend time with the unluckiest bugger in a ten-mile-radius, you know where you’ll find me.”

Ostensibly pacified, Maedhros hummed in agreement. “When I return,” he chuckled, “I’ll have all the time in the world. I won’t even object to being trapped in the same elevator again. I can think of worse company!”

Even though he mumbled some expected polite verbiage, Fingon was deeply flattered and felt his motivation to solve the technical conundrum reawaken in his inexplicably tight, palpitating heart.

“Until later, brave saviour,” Maedhros grinned. “Don’t fall in…before I’m back.”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the next one for May!

Lots of love from me!

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #FOTFICS May Challenge #Fotfics #May Challenge #May AU #Modern AU #Russingon #Maedhros x Fingon #Maedhros #Fingon #University #Elevator Engineer #can think of worse company #elevator mishap #ass in face

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

#svsss #bingqiu #moshang #i swear to god this series is just 'gay man who doesn't know shit inflicting his delusional reality on everyone else and inciting chaos' #and literally it's slapstick levels of hilarious every single time; mxtx never change #also i fully agree that we did not get NEARLY enough mobei-jun and sqh/airplane content #the amount of mental illness to mental illness communication going on there was astonishing #mobei-jun being afraid of his uncle and bringing sqh because that's the only person he trusts fully (WAILING NOISES) #sqh having a tantrum but running away because for the first time he was honest about his needs + his dissatisfaction with catering to other #how that reflects his narrative compulsions and how he felt forced to warp more creative story paths for the sake of survival as a writer #how sqq's restoration of much of his original intent--as well as mobei-jun's acceptance of his needs--helps airplane begin to heal #how his happiness begins; how just like sqq he wanders in such confusion and denial before he's forced to realize what truly matters to him #SHREK VOICE: STORIES HAVE. L A Y E R S #it feels like modern day shakespeare and when i say that i don't mean it in a hollow elevating sense i mean it more like #mxtx just hits that perfect balance of poignance but also hilarious concentric circles of botched communication and brainworms #okay but real talk for a minute? .........;-; #the way lbh constantly struggles with such a crushing feeling that he'll be abandoned over any little mishap/thing/problem #really hit me where it hurts??? if only because its so clearly an anxiety that stems from original goods' upbringing #the way it becomes even more heartrending when you think back to all the sect leaders clamoring that he should have been killed as an infan #that he should have been aborted as a fetus--insisting right in front of him that his birth was a mistake and a disgrace #over having demon blood in his veins. like my god that scene is so viscerally upsetting i struggle to read it #the way its so easy to see the demons as a manifestation of otherness in precipitated form #how both sqq and sqh are influenced by human rhetoric without evening meaning to--assuming the worst against their better judgment #how both sqq and sqh both struggle with their own otherness in different ways and only find solace when they begin to accept who they are #how their lovers (lbh and mbj respectively) both are willing to navigate those confusing waters with them #how both demons love them as they are--accept them as they are despite how difficult forgiveness of perceived betrayal is for them #ty mxtx for changing my brain chemistry #as i get older i have such a fondness for the messiness of thematic queer self-discovery and growth into self-acceptance #that and how youth can so easily be defined by perfectionistic self-harm and the violence of repression

[escon-elevators]

ESCON Elevators presents 𝑵𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔: An Episode Highlighting ...

#youtube #https://youtu.be/K4IIaDtmf4Y ESCON Elevators presents 𝑵𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒕𝒉𝒔: An Episode Highlighting Elevator Pit Mishap

[marvelfilth]

Family dinner

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Kate Bishop x Yelena Belova, platonic!Kate Bishop x f!reader

Warnings: a very poor attempt at humour

Summary: your best friend Kate needs backup after a mishap with Yelena's family

Masterlist

“I need you here yesterday!”

“What?” You whisper-shout, looking around the office to make sure no one noticed you ducking away to take a call from your best friend.

“Please, I'm desperate! I can't do this alone, they're like sharks and I just spilled blood!”

“Kate, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Yelena's family! They're scary as shit on a good day, but now we messed up real bad, and I think they're gonna decapitate me,” she whines.

“Okay, let's backtrack. What did you do?”

“...”

“Kate?”

There's shuffling on the other side, a deep sigh and then, “Melina found the handcuffs. With the fur. They were still attached to the bed.”

You snort, loud enough to attract annoyed looks from your coworkers. “Happens to the best of-”

“And the whip. It was on the bed too.”

You chortle, this time not caring about your surroundings, and swiftly move further down the hall. “She knows Yelena's a big girl, she can ha-”

“Natasha was there too!”

You stop in your tracks. Now that's interesting.

“She'll never let you forget it,” you say with all the confidence you have, even though you've never met the woman before. You know just enough from what Kate and Yelena told you to be sure of that.

“She's not letting me forget it now! She got all sneaky and secretive, whispering with Melina and looking at me, and now I'm on my way to a family dinner. A family dinner with my girlfriend's family, while said girlfriend got called away on some emergency mission,” she huffs angrily.

“There's no emergency mission, is there?”

“There better be!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. It's never a boring day with Kate Bishop.

“So,” she starts, aiming for a nonchalant tone, “I'm downstairs.”

“What?”

“Yep. Waiting for you at the front. Better hurry, parking is expensive as hell.”

“Kate.”

“I'm your bestie. And my girlfriend's mom found the handcuffs. I need you.”

You check the time, noting that the workday is nowhere near it's end. With a sigh, you head for the elevator, not even bothering to come back for your bag.

“I love you.”

“I haven't agreed to-”

“I know what that sigh means!”

You groan. “Yeah, yeah. You owe me.”

×××

Turns out, Yelena's family is even scarier then you imagined.

“So, Y/n,” Melina starts, looking at you like you're one of her lab rats, “Do you usually leave your… sexual… stuff after you're done?”

You turn red, choking on the wine. Kate sends you a look of pity.

Natasha smirks.

“I don't… I'm not sure- Um. Well, no.”

Melina hums, nodding to herself. “Good.”

She digs into her food, and you exhale in relief, feeling like the worst part is over.

“So where do you keep your stuff, Y/n?” Natasha asks over the rim of her glass, her eyes full of mischief.

Kate slides lower in her seat, boring holes into her fork.

Melina perks up, once again regarding you like one of her subjects. “I would also like to know. To pass the advice to my daughter and her girlfriend.”

You gulp.

“Well?” Natasha prompts.

You shudder from the intensity of the look she's giving you.

“Can we move on?” Kate whispers, looking around nervously.

“Yes, of course,” Melina nods, her eyes lighting up like she was waiting for a subject change.

Natasha sends Kate an amused smile, and you relax slightly. Now the worst part is over, you're sure.

“So, Y/n-”

Fuck.

“-are you single?”

You nod, shoving a forkful of some meat salad - which mostly consists of mayonnaise - to avoid talking.

“And you're gay, correct?” Melina asks, peering into your very soul.

You nod again, chewing fast.

“Why are you gay?”

You choke on a piece of potato, wheezing and reaching for a glass of water. Kate almost falls of her chair in haste to smack you on the back. Natasha just looks at her mother, unimpressed. “Really?”

“What?” Melina shrugs. “I'm a scientist, I'm conducting research.”

The redhead groans, rubbing her eyes. “Of course.”

You feel a little better now that Natasha is annoyed.

Melina still looks at you, expecting an answer.

You sigh, “Are you gay?”

She blinks, looking like an owl. Natasha chokes on a laugh, sending you a look of appreciation. Kate mutters something about bathroom and darts out of the room, hopefully to call Yelena and fix all this mess.

“Well,” Melina starts, deep in thought. “I suppose I've never given it much of a thought.”

You nod, feeling accomplished in swaying attention from yourself.

“Natasha.” The older woman turns abruptly. “You are gay.”

The redhead groans, sliding down in her seat. “Mother, please.”

“She's gay, and you're gay. You're both miserably single.”

“Huh?” You frown, affronted.

“Fuck my life,” Natasha mumbles into the table, her face pressed tight against it in a feeble effort of disappearing.

“Yelena's on her way!” Kate walks back into the room, triumphant.

“Finally,” you sigh, pointedly looking at the ceiling to avoid Melina's penetrative gaze. “Where's she, by the way?”

“Hiding, probably,” Natasha snorts, shaking her head. “Escaped the scene of crime and left her girlfriend to pick up the mess.” She raises her glass in Kate's general direction, “You're doing good so far, Bishop. Even brought reinforcement - good thinking.”

“Yes-yes,” Melina nods, her eyes darting between you three. “Yelena's a bit of a coward in that regard, but we have an important matter to discuss.”

Natasha glares at her mother. “No, we don-”

“Natasha can cook. Well, she can microwave.”

“What did I miss?” Kate frowns, settling back into her seat. “Actually, no. I don't want to know.”

“As I was saying,” Melina clears her throat, paying no mind to the murderous look Natasha sends her. You'd feel gleeful at that - Natasha's plan came back to bite her in the ass - if you weren't the other victim in this scenario. “Natasha can cook. She's excellent with knives. She's an excellent shot. She can dismantle a bomb in a matter of seconds. She's a… a catch.”

You smile at the miserable expression on Natasha's face, her cheeks dusted with pink.

“Oh…” Kate whispers, looking at you from the corner of her eye. “Well, actually, Y/n is-” she yelps loudly when your heel connects with her toes, and turns bright red at the shooting pain. “-a bitch. She's a bitch.”

The look in Melina's eyes turns gleeful. “That was excellent.”

Fucking hell, no matter what you do, your grave turns deeper and deeper.

Natasha snorts, chugging her wine like it's water. Melina's mouth opens again, and you say a stupid thing to save yourself from further embarrassment.

“Can we go back to Kate's handcuffs, please,” you mutter with a sigh.

The look of betrayal your friend sends you doesn't work the way she intended, because you don't feel guilty at all.

Melina's mouth snaps shut, her eyes widening. The sight alone tells you you said the wrong thing.

“Have you and Kate ever-”

“No!” you both shout, before the older woman can finish the question.

“Sounds defensive,” Natasha chuckles, reaching for the bottle of vodka.

“Wha- What?” You hiss, glaring at the spy.

“She's- Y/n’s not even my type! And I'm not her type either!” Kate splutters.

“Mhm,” Natasha hums, “that I can see.”

You gape, not sure if you're supposed to be offended. “What?”

Natasha smirks, planting her chin on her fist. “You need a firm hand. Your best friend is anything, but firm.”

Her eyes trail down your body, pupils darkening ever so slightly. Your cheeks burn and, suddenly, it's hard to breathe. You clear your throat and gulp down the last of your wine, carefully avoiding her gaze.

“O-okay. That's- okay, yep,” Kate mutters to herself. “Fuck my life.”

“Am I wrong?” Natasha husks, reaching across the table to play with the golden bracelet on your wrist.

Really, right in front of her mother?

The front door opens with a loud bang, and you jump up, relieved to see Yelena. The feeling doesn't last long, because a second later you notice the bleeding wound on her torso.

“So that was an actual mission,” you mumble, missing the way Natasha snorts in your haste to get Yelena to the couch.

Kate looks pale, but swiftly starts helping Yelena undress. Melina's ready with the first aid kid by the time they finally tear off the shirt.

“So?” Natasha whispers into your ear, sending goosebumps down your skin. “Am I wrong?”

Apparently, not even her bleeding sister can stop her.

“No,” you reply, “you're not wrong.”

She hums, satisfied. “I am miserably single, you know?"

You let out a loud laugh, not even bothering to quiet down when Yelena sends you a murderous look.

“I am miserably single, too.”

She smiles, nodding to herself.

“Want to fix that?” She asks after a bit, her eyes glinting in the soft evening light.

“They'll never shut up about it,” you groan, stepping closer to her.

“Yeah,” she hums, her grin stretching wider. “So?”

"A little help?" Yelena wheezes, glaring daggers at the two of you. "Hello? Your sister is dying."

“Yes,” you reply, not taking your eyes away from her green pools.

“Perfect,” she breathes, before pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I'll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

"Fucking unbelievable," Yelena mutters and yelps when Melina shushes her with a pinch and a hissed "don't ruin my hard work".

Kate just looks like she's about to faint.

You grin. "I can't wait."

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow x female reader #family dinner

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: long , sfw , fluffy , paranormal activity , hint of getting an attachment (wink wink) , elevators , ritual run through 

summary: as you and the triplets join sam and colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in texas , the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game . little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence . 

notes: i HAD to write a fic based off the SnC x sturniolo collab . n when I found that the sam n colby made matt do this ritual , i knew i had to write a fic based off it :3 hope you guys enjoy reading part one ! be on the lookout for part two <3 

WC: 7098

PT2

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Is the red light really necessary?” Nick asks, a single eyebrow raising as he watches Sam turn on a large red light and set it behind the camera propped up in front of them. 

“It adds a more dramatic effect to the video.” Sam shrugs, taking a few steps back to check if the light is fine in the viewfinder. 

“Well it looks rather terrifying in here so good job guys.” You say, holding up two thumbs up as a small smile spreads across your lips. 

“We try.” Colby smiles, shrugging his shoulders a little before he leans back against his arms on his spot on the mattress. 

“You guys ready to start?” Sam asks as he adverts his gaze from the camera to you and the triplets. 

“We were born ready.” Chris replies, a determined expression clear on his face as he nods faintly. Sam takes a quick glance over at Colby and waits for the male to give him a thumbs up before turning back towards the camera. Without warning, a spew of random sounds spill out of Sam’s mouth as he waves his arms about. Colby follows suit with the random shenanigan and you and the triplets laugh softly at the two before their actions come to a quick halt. 

“It is ritual time.” Sam states as he clasps his hands together and glances over at all of you. 

“Yay.” Nick says, his voice monotone as he wipes his mouth with his hand. 

“Love the sound of that.” Matt comments, earning a small laugh from his two brothers. 

“We are going to do something that we’ve never done before on this channel.” Sam starts, his tone nothing but serious as Nick and Chris let out small shouts of excitement. “We are going to be doing something called The Elevator Game.” 

As Matt and Nick begin to clap softly, Chris speaks up. “That sounds like a very pleasing game to partake in.” The male jokes, earning a small snicker from you as you clamp a hand over your mouth to muffle your laughter. 

“You guys said you love elevators, right?” 

“Big fans.” Nick replies with a small smile. 

“I hate elevators.” Matt states, his comment drawing laughter from the four other boys in the room.  

“Perfect!” As you take a quick glance over at Matt, Sam clears his throat for a moment before he continues, “That is very interesting because for this ritual, we need a singular volunteer.” 

As Sam slowly looks over and locks eyes with Matt, the rest of the boys look over at the middle triplet with large smiles visible on their lips. 

“Yes Matt!” Nick exclaims as he lightly nudges the said male's leg with his knee. 

Chris reaches behind you to land a singular hand on the older’s shoulder. “Do you wanna volunteer or should we just rule you in?” The male asks as he pats his brother’s back a few times. 

As you lean forward and take in a proper look at your boyfriend, a nervous expression can be seen clear as day on his face as he looks between all the boys in the room. You've known about Matt’s fear of elevators for a little while now. You knew the male would avoid them at all costs unless it was absolutely necessary. In fact, the small mishap that occurred between him and Chris about a year or so ago was the reason why this fear of his became a thing. 

During the duration of filming the collaboration with Sam and Colby, yourself and the triplets often took the elevator to travel between the different floors of the hotel you guys were investigating in. Matt, not wanting to draw attention to himself, dragged himself to the elevator everytime you guys went to a different floor. He always stayed in the corner closest to the door, being ready to exit the moment anything suspicious started happening. 

Speaking of which, when the small malfunction in the elevator occurred when you guys and the tour guides went to go to a different floor and the elevator started acting up, you immediately picked up on Matt’s anxious behavior. When Sam mentioned that someone should step out to see if the same issue with the doors would happen, Matt immediately volunteered and practically ran out of the elevator and stayed outside for a little while until you guys sorted the situation out. 

You had a feeling that Sam and Colby would ask Matt to do this Elevator Ritual when he mentioned his strong dislike for elevators. You knew that your boyfriend would immediately decline because that’s one of his fears but you also knew that the male wouldn’t wanna pass this opportunity up and seem like a pussy. 

“I’ll go on the elevator.” Matt states, earning excited shouts from all the boys, more specifically Sam and Colby. You raise an eyebrow at your boyfriend when he looks over at you. The male subtly takes your hand in his and squeezes your hand three times, signifying that he’ll be alright. 

“Face that fear, Matt.” Chris says as he gently claps his hands together, a proud smile visible on his lips. 

“So that means that Matt and I are going to go into the elevator and go through all 13 floors.” Sam says, his voice low as he looks over at the said male who sends him a little smile. 

“That sounds wonderful.” Nick comments as he nods his head and gently pats Matt’s knee. 

“Then you guys can stay in the lobby and be with-“ 

“Samantha!” Colby shouts, accidentally cutting the blonde off. 

“Yes, Daddy Driskill and Samantha will be accompanying you guys while we do the ritual.” Sam nods, earning excited shouts from Nick and Chris. 

“Yes! The big D!” Nick exclaims, excitement running through his veins as he claps a few times. 

“I am going to explain the rules of The Elevator Game now.” Sam says as he looks straight into the camera. “Now, since the game is a summoning ritual, it is said to, if it works, take us to another plane of existence. I don’t exactly know if that will happen but it’s worth a shot.” 

“Oh my God… That’s not terrifying at all.” Chris jokes as he lands a few playful pokes on Matt’s back. “You better be ready, kid.” 

“Also very important note, there is a chance that we may never come back.” Sam adds, earning shocked exclamations from you and the triplets.

“Isn’t that lovely.” You say as you subconsciously begin to trace circles on the back of Matt’s hand with your thumb. 

“Right? We might never come back.” 

“Chris, I think that’s a sign that you and I should get our license. Who the hell is gonna drive us around if Matt doesn’t come back?” Nick asks, leaning forwards a little to lock eyes with Chris. 

“Shit, you're right.” Chris mumbles, a single hand coming up to rub the side of his face. “Matt, please come back after you do the ritual. I really dont wanna have the responsibility of doing all the laundry.” 

“As long as you guys don’t jinx me, I'm sure I’ll be perfectly fine.” Matt reassures as he lands a soft hit to Chris’ back. 

“I agree with Matt. You guys can’t jinx us.” Sam says as he points a single finger towards all of you, causing you guys to all stick y’all’s hands up in defense. “Anyways, onto the rules.” The blonde digs in his pocket to fish his phone out. After unlocking the device, he pulls up the rules and instructions of the ritual. “So. We are going to have to push a series of buttons and make sure that no one else gets onto the elevator. If the whole place has 13 floors, which this hotel does, then it will summon something on the final floor. We will start in the lobby and go to four, two, six, back to two, ten, and then five. Five is the most haunted floor and the final bit of the ritual.” 

“I love the sound of this guys. I’m so excited.” Matt says, sarcasm laced in his tone as looks down at his lap and uses his free hand to ruffle his hair.

“Are you regretting volunteering?” Chris asks, a small laugh escaping him as he takes in the older’s stressed state. 

“Umm..” Matt starts as he lifts his head back up and looks ahead of him. “I’d rather it be me than you to be honest.” A unison of ‘oh!’s fill the room as Chris narrows his eyes at Matt. “I feel like you would just be better in the elevator than Chris would.” Matt adverts his statement to Nick as he reaches over to his left and lightly hits the older’s arm. 

“Alrighty then. I guess that makes sense.” Chris says as he rubs the slight stubble forming on his chin. 

“You just seem to be the person that’s less fit and prepared to do this.” Nick adds, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks over at the youngest triplet. As you stifle a laugh and cover your mouth, Chris’ jaw drops as a fake hurt expression spreads across his face. 

“We got some sibling banter over here.” Sam says to the camera as he juts his thumb towards the three brothers. “Anyways, back to the rules of the game. Once we reach the fifth floor, the door will obviously open and it is said that on this said floor, especially knowing that it's the most haunted floor, a female spirit will walk into the elevator with us. To end the ritual, we must press one and go back to where you guys are.” 

A few excited shouts fill the room as all the boys shake their fists. “However!” Sam exclaims, cutting off the shouting as he gently clasps his hands together. 

“Of course there’s a however.” Nick mumbles, earning a small laugh from Colby as the red-head crosses his arms over his abdomen. 

“Rituals can never be all cupcakes and rainbows, you know.” Sam says with a small smile before he diverts his attention back to the camera. “If the ritual is a success, the elevator won’t go to the lobby. It will go up and start ascending. If that happens, that means we’ve successfully summoned something into the elevator.” 

“Are you serious?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping his lips as he sends the blonde a shocked expression. 

“Is that when the chance of you guys not coming back comes into play?” You ask, a worried expression spreading across your face as you look up at Sam. 

“Yes.” The blonde replies, softly nodding his head as he turns around and locks eyes with you.

“Some Willy Wonka shit is gonna happen then.” Nick jokes, trying to lighten the tense mood filling the room. It seems to work as soft laughter comes from you and the rest of the boys. “We’re just gonna hear a loud crash as the elevator flies out of the hotel.” 

“We’re just gonna be flying into the oblivion.” Sam adds as he shoots his arm up to mimic the action of the elevator flying. 

“Yeah, I will not be very happy if that happens.” Matt points a finger at Sam as the latter laughs softly. “If I get stuck in this elevator, I feel bad for Sam. That’s all ima say.” 

“Awh.” Sam chuckles lightly as he brings a hand up to his chest. “Considering the amount of mishaps we’ve had with the elevator earlier, I really hope nothing bad happens.” 

“If shit goes down after we’re done with the ritual, you guys are gonna be next.” Matt points both his pointer fingers towards Nick and Chris who hurriedly shake their heads. 

“Let’s just hope you come back first.” Nick says as he lands a hand on Matt’s shoulder. 

“They will come back, don’t worry.” Colby reassures as he looks over at Sam and gently nods his head. 

“Well, we’ll never find that out if we don’t do it. So shall we get this ritual started?” Sam asks he turns towards all you guys, a large smile visible on his lips as he rubs his hands together. 

“Hell yeah!” Chris exclaims as he slips off the mattress. 

“Let’s all head to the lobby then.” As Sam walks up to the camera to shut it off, Nick and Colby follow Chris in exiting the room. After ensuring that the males leave and that Sam is busy with the camera, you look over at Matt who’s began to fiddle with the horse chain on his neck. 

“You really wanna do this?” You whisper, your voice low as you lean in closer to your boyfriend. 

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. It’s just an elevator, right?” Matt replies as he looks over at you. As he sends you a small smile, you gently nod your head and slip off the bed. You stick your hand out to Matt, who quickly takes it and allows you to pull him up to his feet. Before following Sam out the door, you land a quick kiss on Matt’s temple before guiding him out of the room. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Upon arriving in the lobby, Sam and Colby begin to set up their equipment as you and the triplets patiently wait in front of the elevator. 

“Alright.” Sam begins as he adjusts his hold on the camera in his hand before turning it on. “Any thoughts before we start Matt?”

“Umm…” Matt starts as he begins to rock back and forth on his heels. “I have to say that the nausea I’ve been feeling for the past five minutes or so has increased significantly.” 

“You’ve been feeling nauseous?” Colby asks, adverting his focus from the camera in his hand to look over at Matt, a worried expression clear on his face as he glances over at Sam. The two ghost hunters share a worried look before Nick speaks up.

“We’ve all been feeling a little nauseous.” Nick begins as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I started feeling it when we sat down to eat, Matt started feeling it five minutes ago, y/n started feeling it when we were giving candy offerings to Samantha, and Chris felt it the second we got here.” 

“That doesn’t sound very good…” Sam says, his voice trailing off as he gestures Colby to grab something in the backpack. “Maybe we should sage you guys again before we start the ritual.” 

“Should we do it here or go outside?” Colby asks as he digs inside the backpack laying at his feet. 

“We can do it here.” Colby gently nods his head before bringing the sage out. He gestures you and the triplets to stand in a line before he quickly waves the sage around the four of you. “That should do it. If you guys keep feeling nauseous, we can take a break.” 

“We appreciate it guys.” You say with a small smile. 

“Of course. Safety comes first.” Sam says, earning a firm head nod from Colby. “Anyways, you ready to start?” Sam turns the camera to Matt and gently pats his shoulder a few times. 

“Yeah, I’m ready.” Matt replies with a gentle head nod. 

“Are you not gonna say goodbye to your siblings and girlfriend? You may never see them again if the ritual works.” Colby asks as he gestures towards you, Nick, and Chris. 

Matt turns around and sticks his arm out to Nick, who sends him a glare before hesitantly shaking his hand. 

“A hand shake?” Colby laughs softly as Nick wraps his arms around Matt and brings him in for a quick embrace. “See, that’s much better.” After pulling away, Chris and Matt share a firm handshake before also sharing a quick hug. 

“Okay, I’ll start googling places where we can get our licenses.” Nick says softly as he brings a hand up to rub his nape. 

“Dude, I’m not dead yet…” Matt says, a hurtful expression spreading across his face as he pulls away from Chris who smacks his chest a few times. 

“Yet.” Sam repeats, a small laugh escaping his lips as he watches Matt playfully shove Chris back. As the younger giggles softly, Matt turns to you, his gaze softening as he immediately brings you in for an embrace. Collective ‘awh’s come from all the boys when Matt lands a quick peck on your lips and forehead. 

“Leave your license behind before you go to another universe please.” Nick says, earning a rapid head nod from Chris. After pulling away from the hug, Matt shakes his head and digs in his pocket to pull out his wallet. As he wordlessly hands Nick his wallet, Chris comes up behind him and grabs both his shoulders. 

“I call dibs on that one jacket in your closet by the way.” Chris says, a large smile plastered on his lips as he massages the older’s shoulders. 

“Wonderful, alright. We’re all just claiming all my shit.” Matt says with a soft laugh. As the male turns to face you, he raises an eyebrow when he takes in your smiley face. “You too?” 

“I only want a few stuff.” You defend as you hold up your hand and pinch your pointer finger and thumb together. 

“Yeah, okay. Like that’s believable.” As Matt laughs and shakes his head gently, the sound of the elevator dinging causes all of you to quickly turn around. 

“What the fuck?” Colby mumbles, his face falling as he looks into the empty elevator. 

“Did you guys push anything?” Sam asks as he points a finger at you and the triplets. 

“No. Swear to God we didn’t.” Nick defends as he holds both his hands up. 

“It’s fucking midnight.” Colby states after his eyes scan over the numbers plastered on the top of his Lock Screen. He shows the camera his phone to ensure that he's telling the truth before turning the device to you and the rest of the boys. 

“I personally would not go in there.” Chris says as he wraps his arms around his torso, a nervous expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t either.” You add as you reach your hand out to grab Matt’s. 

“Well, we can’t back out now. It is twelve o’clock after all.” Sam says, a heavy exhale leaving his lips as he looks over at Colby, the two locking eyes for a moment. “I think that we should start this ritual before more weird shit happens.” 

“Please be careful.” You say, your voice firm as you look up at Matt. The male looks down at you and gently cups the side of your face with a single hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing your cheek in hopes of calming your sudden anxiety spike. 

“We will, don’t worry.” Sam reassures as he begins to walk towards the elevator. He looks inside the small space for a moment, ensuring that nothing and no one is inside before he hesitantly steps in. “You coming?” 

Matt quickly shifts his gaze from you to Sam who’s standing at the back of the elevator. “Yeah, I'm coming.” Matt replies. Before the male enters the elevator, he bends down a little to capture his lips in yours. He pulls back after a few seconds and gently caresses your face before joining Sam in the elevator. 

“You two be safe.” Chris calls as he moves to take a stand in between you and Nick. 

“Yeah, come back please!” Nick adds as he subconsciously wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him. 

“We’ll be back, promise.” Sam reassures as he sets a small device in the middle of the elevator. 

“Wait, I need photos for the prayer cards.” Nick states, a hand quickly digging in his pocket to fish his phone out. As he opens his camera and faces it towards Matt, the male holds up a small v, practically posing for the camera. You can’t help but giggle at the sight before Nick smiles proudly and puts his phone away. 

“Alright, we’re gonna start now guys.” Sam states as he walks up a few steps, his frame being inches away from the entrance of the elevator. After looking over at Matt and gaining a firm head nod from him, the two begin the ritual. 

“Please take us to another world.” Matt and Sam say in unison. The blonde reaches over to push a button to close the elevator and takes a few steps back to stand next to Matt. At the sight of the door closing, the male shouts out a small ‘oh god!’, a mix of fear and anxiousness filling his body as he eyes the door. 

“Matt, I love you have fun.” Nick says as he makes a small heart with both his hands. Matt sends the red-head a small smile before the doors finally close. 

“I really hope nothing bad happens.” Chris mumbles as he shakes his head slightly, nervousness bubbling in him as he stares at the closed elevator doors. 

“Me too.” Colby agrees as he forces his lips together in a straight line. The male momentarily turns his back to you and the two brothers to dig inside his backpack. After a few moments of searching, he pulls out two EMF readers and holds them out in front of him. “Which one of you guys would like to have the honors in holding one?” 

“I would love to have one.” Nick says, a small smile appearing on his lips as he bounces on his heels a few times. 

“Me too.” You add, landing a hand on Nick’s shoulder as the two of you step closer to Colby. The latter gently nods his head and hands the two of you an EMF reader. 

“Okay, how should we start this?” Colby asks as he leans his backpack against the wall and focuses the camera on you three. 

“We can start walking around to see if we get anything on the EMF readers.” You suggest with a small shrug. Colby nods his head at your suggestion and gestures for you and Nick to begin walking around with his hand. 

“Wait, didn’t the tour guide say that-“ 

“Your reader is going off!” Chris exclaims, accidentally cutting his older brother off as he points to the said device with his pointer finger. The youngest triplet seems to be correct as Nick looks down at the EMF reader in his hand and sees the device light up the first three levels. 

“You got anything yet y/n?” Colby asks as he zooms the lenses into Nick’s EMF reader to capture the activity. 

“Nope. Nothing yet.” You reply softly as you begin to walk a bit further away from the group, your eyes being locked onto the device in your hand the entire time. 

“The tour guide said that the bathroom is one of the most haunted places.” Nick states as he begins to gently wave the EMF reader about, trying to get it to spike up any further. “I think we should go see if we get any activity over there.” 

“Great idea, let’s head over there. Lead the way.” Colby gently nods his head towards Nick to encourage the male to lead the group to the bathrooms. The red-head complies and begins to walk towards a hallway a little ways to the right, the three of you following close behind him. 

“Let’s see…” Nick mumbles, more to himself than to anyone else. While you and the male walk around and inside the bathrooms, ya’ll don’t get much activity apart from a few spikes that went to yellow. 

“Let’s go back to the elevator. We’re not getting much.” You say as you walk out of the women’s bathroom, the door shutting behind you and coming in contact with the heels of your shoes. 

Colby nods his head and waits for Nick to return from the male’s bathroom before you guys walk back to the elevator. The moment you stand next to the elevator, your EMF reader spikes all the way to red. 

“Mine just went to red.” You say, your voice a little louder than usual to gain the attraction of the three males in the room. 

“Holy shit.” Colby mumbles as he quickly makes his way over to you. As he zooms his lens into the device in your hand, Nick and Chris come up to the other side of you and look down at your EMF reader. “Nick, you getting anything?” 

“Mines still at yellow.” The red-head replies, momentarily turning the reader so it can face the camera before he turns it back to face him. 

“Maybe we should pull out the onvoy and see if we get anything. You know, considering how much activity we’ve been getting around here already.” Colby suggests as he walks back to his backpack and pulls it open. 

“What’s that?” Chris asks, his head tilting slightly as he watches the ghost hunger pull a device out of his bag. 

“It’s basically a device that gives us yes or no responses through questions we ask.” Colby explains as he crouches down and sets the device on the floor. After turning it on and waiting for it to light up, he looks up at the three of you who are already intently looking at him. “Something just has to physically tap it like so for us to get a response.” Colby sets his pointer finger on the device for a moment and awaits for it to beep a few times and light up yes before he pulls away.

“That doesn’t sound too difficult.” You ponder aloud as you take a momentarily glance towards the EMF reader in your hand. 

“It’s not difficult whatsoever. Would you guys like to start asking some questions?” 

“Absolutely.” Chris replies with a small smile as the three of you take a seat around the onvoy. 

“If there are any spirits that would like to communicate with us tonight, please make yourself known by using this device to answer our questions. All you have to do is come up and touch it to let us know what your thoughts are.” Colby calls out, his head turning around a few times before he turns his focus back to you and the two brothers. 

“What should we ask first?” Nick asks gently, his eyes staying fixed on the EMF reader in his hand. 

“Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris asks, anxiousness laced in his tone as he practically stares down at the onvoy. A few beats of silence pass by before the device dings a few times. 

Colby lets out a small gasp of surprise at the sound and leans in close to the onvoy. “It says yes!” The male exclaims happily as he zooms the lens into the response. 

The moment the male reads that aloud, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts the four of you. Quickly, you all turn around and collectively let out sighs of relief as the doors open and reveal Sam and Matt. 

“You’re done already?” Nick asks, his mouth agape as he watches the two males step out of the elevator rather quickly. 

“Yeah, we practically flew through all the floors.” Matt replies, a small, proud smile visible on his lips as he approaches the four of you who are still sitting on the floor. When the male stands behind you, you quickly turn your body to face him, a large smile spreading across your lips, as you immediately reach for your boyfriend’s hand. As you caress it gently and bring his hand up to your lips to land a small kiss on his knuckles, Sam takes a stand next to him. 

“Did you guys get anything?” The blonde asks as he stashes the device him and Matt were using in the elevator in his pocket. 

“No.” Colby replies with a frown. “We literally asked a single question.” 

“Yeah, the one question I asked is ‘Do you think that Sam and Matt are gonna make it back to us?” Chris adds as he gets himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off a little. “The moment it said yes, the door opened.” 

“It was crazy timing.” Nick comments as he follows suit in getting up off the floor. 

“Really?” Sam asks, his jaw dropping slightly as he looks over at Colby with pure shock in his face. 

“Really.” Nick confirms with a firm head nod. “We didn’t have time to ask a bunch of questions. Chris was the only person that got to ask a question.”

“Well, Sam and I encountered no issues while we were doing the ritual. We went through all the floors with ease. However, we didn’t really get anything with the device we were using. I mean, we did get a few words but I found them to be more random than anything.” 

“Yeah, that has got to be the fastest ritual we’ve ever experienced.” Colby comments, his head gently nodding as he looks between Sam and Matt. 

“It was pretty easy, nothing too difficult.” Matt says, his gaze falling to yours and his intertwined fingers. 

“Would you like to do it again then? But by yourself this time?” Sam inquires, a single eyebrow raising as he looks over at the brunette. 

Silence fills the lobby as you all stare at Matt, awaiting for his response. You manage to catch your boyfriend’s face falling slightly as he looks over at Sam, his eyes slightly wide as he locks eyes with him. Sensing the male’s sudden anxiety spike, you begin to play with his fingers in hopes of grounding him a little. 

Matt blinks hardly a few times as he looks down at you, his eyes basically pleading for you to answer the question for him. At the brunette’s gaze, you pick your free hand up and land a soft poke on his chest, signaling that it’s his call. You watch as the male sighs before he picks his head back up and looks up at his two brothers who shrug at him. Matt forces his lips together and looks over at Sam, his right hand coming up to his nape as he locks eyes with the blonde. 

“I would- I don’t-“ Matt sputters, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he digs in the pocket of his pants. “I’d have to write down the numbers…” 

“Is that a yes then?” Sam asks, excitement glossing over his eyes as he zooms the lens onto the male in front of him. After Matt gently nods his head in response, collective shouts of encouragement sounds from you and the boys. 

“You sure you wanna do it alone?” Chris asks as he walks up to the brunette, a single hand coming up to rest it on his brother's shoulder. “The chance of you never coming back is still there. You’ll be fully alone in another universe.” At the younger’s statement, Nick lands a harsh hit on Chris’s bicep, signaling him to shut up with an intense glare. 

“Well, you guys better start looking up ways to get me back if the ritual actually works.” Matt replies, a nervous smile overtaking his features as he begins to fiddle with the horse chain around his neck. 

Colby goes to add onto the conversation however, the sound of the elevator dinging alerts all six of you. You all turn around to face the elevator, fear running through y’all’s bodies at the sight of the doors opening more slower than usual. 

“I think that’s a sign, Matt.” Sam says as he lands a hand on the said male’s shoulder. 

“I guess I’ll go then. Could you text me the numbers?” Matt asks with a soft sigh. As Sam gently nods his head and fishes his phone out of his pocket, Colby walks up to the brunette. 

“You wanna take this camera?” The ghost hunter asks as he holds the said device out in front of him. 

“Sure.” Colby sends Matt a small smile when the male hesitantly takes the camera from him. 

“Matt, please be careful. Like I'm being so for real. I have no idea what we would do without you.” Nick says, a frown overtaking his features as he walks up the middle triplet and lands both his hands on his shoulders. 

“I will, don’t worry. If you guys focus on asking questions, I will be back in no time.” Matt reassures, a comforting smile spreading across his lips as he brings the red-head in for a quick embrace. 

“Wait, me too. I want a hug as well.” Chris whines as he quickly makes his way over to the three of you. Nick pulls away with a small eye roll and steps aside to allow the younger to get his hug. 

“I sent you the numbers. You can head in when you’re ready.” Sam says, his voice soft as he picks his head up and looks over at Matt, the hand that’s holding his phone digging inside his pocket to put the said device away. 

“Word.” Matt replies. After Chris breaks away from the hug and steps back, Matt looks over at you and takes in your worried features. “I promise I’ll be alright. I’ll be back in no time.” Your boyfriend gently cups your face with his free hand, the pad of his thumb gently caressing over your soft skin. 

You gently nod your head, the faint frown on your lips not faltering as you look deep into your boyfriend’s blue irises that hold a sense of anxiousness. Matt brings your face closer to his to bring you in for a quick kiss. Before pulling away, he nibbles on your bottom lip for a moment. 

The brunette removes his hand from your face and gives you a small smile before he turns around to face Sam. “I’m ready.” The male says. 

“Alright, go ahead and step in.” Sam instructs as he gestures towards the open and empty elevator. Matt immediately does as instructed and hesitantly steps inside the elevator, a heavy sigh escaping him as he raises the hand that’s holding the camera. “You know what to say.” The blonde says with a smile as he gives the younger male a thumbs up with his free hand.  

Matt looks straight at the camera, his tongue slipping out of his mouth to drag over his slightly chapped lips momentarily, before he begins the ritual. “Please take me to another world. I may regret saying that but hey, see you guys later.” Matt takes a final glance at all of you standing a few steps away from the doors of the elevator before he steps toward the panel full of bottoms. 

“We love you Matt!” Chris exclaims, both his hands coming up to cup over his mouth to get his voice to project more loudly. 

“Be safe!” You add, sliding over to Nick and wrapping an arm around his. You manage to catch Matt waving goodbye before the doors of the elevator finally shut. 

“Guys, go subscribe to the Sturniolos.” Sam states as he turns the camera in his hand and points at it. 

“And comment about how ballsy Matt is. I’m actually so shocked about how he’s been doing this whole investigation. He’s usually never this open and talkative during stuff like this.” Nick says as he crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah, I'm actually really proud of him. He's doing phenomenal.” Colby compliments as he gently claps a few times. 

“Let’s just hope he hasn’t been too open today. We don’t want him to get any-“ Sam gets cut off by Colby harshly digging his elbow into his side. The blonde winces softly and flinches at the touch, his eyes narrowing as he sends a glare towards his friend. 

“Get any what?” You ask, panic flooding in you as you take in Colby’s serious expression. 

“Nothing. We should start asking some questions before Matt comes back.” Colby replies, a small smile appearing on his lips as he turns back around. You share a worried look with Nick and Chris before the three of you, including Sam, join Colby in sitting on the floor around the onvoy. “Who would like to ask the first question?” 

“I would.” Nick says, picking his head up to lock eyes with Colby. After gaining a small head nod from the male, he takes a deep inhale before speaking, “Was sending Matt alone a good decision?” A few beats of silence pass by before the onvoy dings. Nick bends down slightly to read the response. “Yes!” 

“Will Matt find more information regarding what happened at the hotel?” Chris asks as he brings his knees up to his chest and rests his chin on them. The onvoy dings seconds after the question. “No…” 

“Alright..” You mumble. You clear your throat before asking your question, “Will someone join Matt in the elevator when he reaches the fifth floor?” Like earlier, the onvoy immediately dings as it lights up a response. “Yes. Well isn’t that nice. Doesn’t make my anxiety worse at all.” 

The boys all giggle at your statement as you rub your face with both your hands. 

“Is Matt in any danger?” Sam asks, momentarily turning the camera around to put himself in the frame before he turns it back around. Again, the onvoy immediately dings a response. You and the boys take a moment to pause and exchange anxious looks before yall lean in and read the response. 

“Yes.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

20 minutes have gone by as you and the boys took turns asking questions to the spirits willing to communicate with you guys. Some of the questions have gotten rapid responses while others have taken a little longer to reply. As time slowly ticked away, you felt anxiety bubble inside of you. Matt should’ve been back by now considering how he and Sam returned in less than 10 minutes when they did the ritual. You found yourself continuously looking over at the closed elevator everytime someone else in the group spoke up to ask a question, hoping that the doors would open and reveal your boyfriend. Unfortunately it never happened and the doors remained shut. 

“Okay, I'm getting really worried. He should be back by now.” You say, your gaze on the closed elevator doors shifting up to the number 10 glowing brightly in large, bold lettering. 

“Well, he’s on the tenth floor right now. All he has to do is go to five and come back.” Sam says as he takes a seat against the wall facing the elevator, his arms coming up to cross over his chest. 

“Okay true but what’s taking him so long?” Nick asks, a single hand coming up to his mouth. As the red-head begins to bite on his polished nails, Chris takes a glance over at your focused state. He forces his lips into a straight line, worry and anxiety filling his veins at the thought of Matt not returning. 

“He’s at five.” Colby states as he points at the glowing number atop the elevator. The rest of the boys join you and the ghost hunter in looking over at the elevator. 

“Please come back.” You whisper under your breath, a sudden lump forming in your throat as you swallow dryly. As you shakily exhale, a sudden poke on your side causes you to jump rather harshly. “What the fuck?” You mumble as you quickly hug your torso and turn around.

“What happened?” Chris asks, his head whipping around to look over at you. 

“Did one of you guys poke me?” You ask as you lift your head up. 

“None of us touched you.” Colby says as he lifts both his hands up in the air. A wave of nausea suddenly hits you as you slowly turn around to look at Sam, the sight of him looking at you worriedly causing your stomach to churn. As you go to question the blonde, soft giggles bubble up your throat as you feel a series of rapid pokes travel down your other side. After the feeling vanishes, you stumble to your feet and run over to where Nick and Chris are, fear washing over you as you desperately rub your sides to try and get the ghostly feeling away. 

“Samantha.” Sam mumbles under his breath, his eyes slightly going wide as he looks over at your panicked state. 

“Samantha, if that's you, please leave her alone. You do not have permission to touch her.” Colby states, his tone holding a sense of authority as he takes a few quick glances around the room. 

At the mention of the child’s name, Nick’s eyes widen in a mix of terror and shock and he quickly looks down at you. Without a word, he wraps his arms around your slightly shorter frame and brings you flush against him. 

“Samantha, are you messing with y/n?” Chris asks as he wraps an arm around your shoulder, his gaze falling to the unused onvoy on the floor. 

The said device immediately beeps in response. 

Colby lifts himself up from the wall he’s leaning against and walks up to the onvoy. His tall frame bends down slightly before his eyes skim over the response. 

“It says yes.” Colby says, his gaze lifting up from the device and shifting over to Sam. The two share a frightened look as you feel your heart drop to your feet. You quickly turn around and bury your face in Nick’s clothed chest, your breath beginning to pick up as you clutch onto the male’s arms rather desperately.

“It’s okay.” Nick whispers as he rests his chin on the top of your head. As he begins to rub comforting circles on your back with his palm, the sound of the elevator dinging pierces your ears. You quickly lift your head and look over at the elevator, the rest of the boys soon doing the same. 

“Matt?” You call out, your voice cracking slightly as you slip out of Nick’s hold and run to the elevator. 

“y/n wait!” Chris exclaims, his arm extending out to go to grab you and pull you back. His attempt fails however as you slip through the opening of the elevator, not even waiting for the door to fully open. The moment you step inside, you feel your breath get caught in your throat .

Matt isn’t in the elevator. 

And the only thing inside is the camera and his horse necklace. 

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper

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#nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt x reader #nick x reader #chris x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #paranormal #sam golbach #colby brock #sam and colby #The elevator game

[disneyprincemuke]

one of your girls * cs55

you’re just another name in black ink in his long list of girls, and you should know better. so why are you at his apartment in the middle of the night after weeks of radio silence?

pairings: carlos sainz x fem!reader

warnings: implied age gap, suggestive

notes: damn, i be writing anything that relates to all my love life mishaps when i was like 20,,,, daaaaaamn

(f1 masterlist)

you know better than anyone how you shouldn’t be here. you shouldn’t be at the door to his apartment with an overnight bag over your shoulder. you shouldn’t have even picked up the phone when he called you three hours ago.

you think of turning around and making a run for the elevator that’s waiting for a new passenger to transport. but in the empty hallway of carlos’s condo, you try to calm your nerves as you wait.

you wait in clothing that you don't frequent, just to catch his attention. just to keep his attention while you're here with him.

he had bought you a small portion of your wardrobe, something to match what he likes in his typical girls. you're even lucky you'd caught carlos's attention in the first place.

you're not a conventional model, which seems to be his type more often than not. and you simply don't dress the way they do. even showing up here in this has managed to make you feel slightly uncomfortable.

you looked in the mirror before you left your dorm, and you didn't look like yourself. from the mini skirt, down to the way you did your makeup, and the darker shade of lipstick you've put on.

the door finally creaks open, carlos’s head peeking through the gap. one eye is closed, the other barely open from the contrast difference of lighting from inside his apartment to the hallway’s. his hair is a mess, bits and pieces of hair sticking in different directions.

“sorry i took a while,” you drop your head, your hair falling to the sides of your face, “i had to stop to refuel my car. i hope i didn’t make you wait too long.”

he smiles at you, pulling the door open wider to let you in. “it’s okay. i’ve barely been home; i just arrived like… 20 minutes ago.”

“oh,” you slip your shoes off, “i hope you’ve had enough time to settle down then. have you had your dinner?”

this is the cycle every. single. time.

you come over, make some small talk on the couch, before he eventually pounces on you for a long night ahead. and then you wake up in the morning in his arms, his lips peppering light kisses onto your shoulder before he gets up to make you breakfast.

and then you leave. the second you exit that god forsaken condo unit, every sweet nothings exchanged in the heat of the moment is long forgotten.

he will text you once — to bid you safe on your journey home. you will answer him once — to tell him you’ve gotten home safe. that will be the last you hear from him until he goes through all of his races and flies back for his short breaks.

if you’re lucky, he will text you randomly one evening to rant, and maybe even ask you how you are. he will keep the conversation adorable and lighthearted for 5 minutes before he’s reeling you in, just enough to have you craving for his touch for days before he's on his way back.

then he touches down, and texts you to come over.

and he tells you that he likes you, and wants to take it slow, but will never tie you down with a label to make it official. jealousy laces every word when he texts you, following pictures of you flooding your stories with men he's never heard of, but will never be brave enough to say it to your face that it bothers him.

maybe that’s why you keep doing it. maybe that’s why you never call him out on it.

it could be the superiority he knows he has over you: he’s got enough experience to drag you around for months at a time and knows how to keep you wanting more without calling him out.

he shakes his head with a small smile, keeping his distance and standing by the door leading to his kitchen. “i just ordered some food right before you came. 20 minutes,” he tells you, “would you like some water?”

“iced, please,” you reply softly, putting your bag right by the couch as you take a seat.

“of course.”

he disappears into the kitchen, giving you the time to scan his apartment and how much it’s changed in the month you haven’t been in it. not much, really. just that his luggage is now in the corner with a backpack opened, clothes spilling out of it.

maybe it’s also your inability to know when to stop. is it because carlos makes you feels so good? is it the pride of knowing older men are into you that makes you want to stay?

but you feel like a kid, waiting by the door for him to welcome you with open arms. otherwise, he shuns you away until he remembers your existence.

“here you go.” his hand ruffles your hair slightly, putting the cup of water into your hands. “how was the drive here?”

only then you notice that he’s not wearing a shirt. but you also notice the fading spot of purple right by his collarbone and you feel your arms go cold, your grip tightening around the cup.

any more and you’re sure it would shatter.

you’re not the only one; of course, how could you have ever thought that? you’re just one of his girls when he decides.

when he needs someone to talk to, you’re one of his platonic friends — his homies, as some refer to it. he will never be as attached to you as you are to him.

you’re just another name in black ink in his long list of girls.

you lift the cup to your lips, quickly chugging half of the cup down. your eyes never leave the dark spot on his skin, a reminder to yourself with every second that you’re no different to the next girl he will be calling in the next city he’ll be prancing to after this.

you lick your lips. “it was okay. not many cars on the road.”

he finally notices your stare, his hand quickly coming up to cover the spot. your eyes trail up to meet his as he shrugs. “the team and i went to play paintball a while ago. i’ve got crazy bruises that haven’t healed yet.”

he lifts his arm to reveal another spot, slightly darker this time, on the side of his stomach. you hadn’t noticed it earlier from his arm covering it.

his excuse surprisingly makes you feel lighter, the nauseating thought of carlos with another girl in bed suddenly seeming like an absurd accusation. but you mustn’t forget the facts of the matter: you’re just another girl to him.

and he does not care about you. at least, not like that. he only puts up a front to get what he wants before he tosses you aside for another something of weeks.

"you look amazing, babe," carlos mutters, his eyes trailing down to the skirt that's hiked up your thighs. the garter on your thigh peeks out ever so slightly, prompting a shakey sigh to pass his lips as he meets your eyes again. "love the skirt."

"thank you," you answer in a small voice, looking down at his fingers tracing shapes over your exposed chest. your breath staggers as he goes down further towards your cleavage.

he glances at your lips, slowly leaning in. he wraps his hand over yours to take the cup into his hands. he slowly puts it down on the floor, a couple of steps away from either of you.

"you look so so hot," he mutters under his breath. his hand snakes up your inner thigh, leaning in towards your neck. there's a ringing in your ear as he comes closer.

his lips hover above yours, "i can't wait to have you."

~✨🏎✨~

you lay on your back and stare up at the ceiling, your hand resting above the other on your stomach. next to you is carlos, the duvet draped over his waist loosely with his phone in his hands.

you glance at him, acknowledging the soft hands that massage the top of your head. you've just finished eating together and you feel the aftereffects of the amount of food you gobbled down together.

the entire conversation you had, talking about his race weekends and your days in school was lighthearted

"i should go," you sigh, pushing yourself up off the bed. you reach for your bag, sitting under his nightstand to fish for a new shirt.

"what?" you hear shuffling behind you and the only source of light in the room goes out. "you're going? but you usually stay the night."

you can almost notice the disappointment that laces his words. if you didn't know any better, you might have folded and crawled back into that bed with him.

you nod, eyes focusing on passing through the darkness to fathom which article of clothing you're taking out of your bag. "yeah, but i've got class early tomorrow. i really can't afford to be late."

"i can send you early if you want. sleep in the car - i'll drive you," he offers.

you give him a small smile, briefly looking at him before returning your focus to getting dressed to leave. "it's alright, really. i'm carpooling with josh."

your heart starts to race in your chest, feeling heavy as you hear carlos move about some more behind you. "does this josh guy like you or something?" he asks. "why is it that every time i ask you about school, he always comes up?"

you're lying, of course. you don't have to be on campus until the end of the week but you just cannot spend another moment in this suffocating apartment where you play the part of a naive pawn in his games. but he doesn't have to know that.

because you should know better.

your frustration grows, a mix of the darkness limiting your vision and simply having this conversation. you just wanted to find the shirt you packed and be out of here.

"i saw your pictures when you went out the other night. you guys looked awfully snuggly with one another," he adds. "you're telling me that he's not interested in you like that?"

"why's that matter?" you ask, turning your head to give him a stare.

it's only then you notice that carlos, amidst all that conversation, has crawled out of bed. he's now half-dressed with his shorts pulled up his legs, tied together with the string to hold it up. you can barely make out his figure in the dark, the only light coming from the streets.

"exactly. it shouldn't," you mutter, turning away from him once more.

you grunt and finally pull out something from your bag, which seems to be a pair of shorts. that's not what you wanted. you slam it into the ground and continue to dig for a shirt.

"not to you, at least," you add in a whisper, eyebrows furrowing as you furiously search through all the contents of your bag. which surprisingly is a lot more than you remembered packing.

"come on, don't be like that," he sighs. you hear footsteps approaching you, making you turn to hold a hand up to keep him away.

you almost feel guilty, his words weighing your chest down.

he stops just a couple of steps from you and throws his hands up in the air. "it shouldn't matter to you what i'm doing during the days that i don't exist to you," you huff.

you scramble to your feet, walking past him to switch on the lights, overwhelming you both with the change. when you pass him once more to finish your mission of getting your shirt, he plants a firm grip on your elbow and yanks you back into him.

"why are you being like this?" he asks gently, eyebrows met in the middle as concern washes his face. concern or jealousy? or the realisation that you're finally coming to your senses? "what's wrong?"

"that's," you pause to take your arm out from his grip, "really none of your business."

you roll your eyes as you see your shirt on the floor next to your bag. it must have fallen out when you moved it into the bedroom after the food arrived. you pick it up swiftly and pull it down your head.

"seriously. don't pretend to care," you chuckle dryly, now turning to him with furrowed eyebrows. "it won't do you any good. i'm so tired of you doing this to me, carlos!"

you whirl around and get your shorts off the floor, pulling them up your legs.

he sighs, "it's complicated right now, babe. just stay and let's talk about it."

"there is nothing to talk about," you say calmly, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. when you open them, his brown eyes are staring directly into yours. if you hadn't come to your rude awakening during your drive here, it's easy to get lost in his eyes. they shine differently from others, wide and welcoming, and- no.

"(y/n)..."

"i'm too young for this, you know? wasting my youth on somebody who only wants me in the middle of the night every couple of weeks?" you pick up your bag and sling it over your shoulder. "plenty of men are in line for me and i'm just letting you throw me around like a piece of meat? just who the hell do you think you are?"

he runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the roots. you almost recognise the way he's trying to claw his brain for a lie to tell you. but you just roll your eyes.

"dude, i don't know what's going on with you," you sigh tiredly, looking down at his carpeted floor, "but i don't want to play whatever game it is you're making me play."

"there's no game," he mutters, eyes trailing down to stare at the ground. "please, just give me time to figure it out. it's messy right now."

"i've given you time to figure it out," you take a step forward, "i don't have forever and a day to wait around for you."

he doesn't answer, just drops his hands to his side as he stares at you. you push yourself past him, shaking your head. who were you to think that finally speaking up about this would change the course of things?

this is how it's meant to be: he's just simply too different for you to end up together. he's got the glitz and glamour with girls tripping over their own feet to get his attention. but you just want a quiet life, and to live out your years without regret.

continuing whatever arrangement you've got with him will not be the answer to what it is you want.

he sighs. "i'll call you."

"no, you won't."

#carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #f1 x reader #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz fanfiction #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

[simpforrooster]

a very important meeting.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x f!Reader

summary: you're on your way to your office when you get stuck in the elevator with the most annoying naval aviator.

t/w: cursing, some sensual material ahead, getting stuck in elevators

The elevator doors open, revealing a fighter pilot inside. Your stomach drops to your feet as you take in your worst nightmare. For a split second, you consider turning around and hiking it up 8 flights of stairs, but resign and join the pilot. 

He watches you settle into the opposite corner from him. You pull out your phone, deciding to ignore him during the quick ride up to your office. 

Bradley Bradshaw clearly has other ideas. “Hey, y/n,” he taunts. 

“Hi, Chicken,” you reply, not looking up from your phone. 

“It’s Rooster,” he corrects, those brown eyes staring a hole through the side of your head. 

“It’s cute that you think I care,” you tell him, sliding your phone into your work bag. The elevator numbers climb up past two. 

Three. 

Four. 

Five. 

Six. 

The sound of the elevator stopping between floors sends a new kind of dread through your body. The elevator lurches, throwing you into Bradshaw. His strong arms wrap around your waist, steadying you. You don’t miss the way he keeps them on you a second longer than he should. 

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” he asks, his voice low. 

“Other than the fact that this is my worst nightmare, nope.” 

Rooster grins. 

“You’re insufferable,” you tell him, pushing him away from you. He answers you with his annoying laugh that you secretly love. 

Rooster reaches around you and presses the emergency button. Never taking his eyes off you, he tells the attendant about the mishap. Fear overtakes you as she tells Rooster it may be a few hours until they can get the elevator working again. 

“Guess we better get comfortable,” Rooster says. He slides down to the ground and pats the spot next to him. 

“You don’t have to pretend to like me right now, Bradley,” you say, sitting opposite of him. “This is torture enough.” 

A strange look passes over his face. 

The two of you barely tolerate one another, and it’s been this way for years. You can’t pinpoint exactly what caused the tension between the two of you. You also can’t pinpoint exactly when that animosity turned more toward flirting. Or when you looked at Rooster one day and decided that he was probably the most handsome man in the Navy. 

“You’re nervous,” he murmurs. 

“I'm stuck in an elevator with you, of course I’m nervous. What if I hurt you?” you say, trying to lighten the mood. This makes his lip pull up in the corner. 

Rooster stands, coming over to where you’re sitting. “Well, I’m nervous for a whole other reason. What if I kiss you?” He takes his hand in yours and pulls you up.

“You don’t mean that,” you whisper. 

“Oh come on, y/n. I flirt with you all the time.” Rooster takes a small step toward you. 

“No, you argue with me all the time.” 

He takes another small step, and your back hits the wall. “Riling you up is my favorite pastime. You’re so hot when you’re mad.” 

Did he just call you hot? 

“Don’t get my hopes up, Roos.” From this angle, it’s hard to ignore the height difference between the two of you. 

“Ah, so you admit all this between us has been flirting?” he smirks, bracing himself against the wall, his large hand just on the outside of your head. His other hand slides around your waist. 

“I don’t know what to call it,” you whisper. 

“You can call it me wanting you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

You don’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. He can’t mean them, can he? It must be the stuck-in-an-elevator-with-nothing-else-to-do talking. Those brown eyes seem to stare straight into your soul. There is nothing you want more than for him to kiss you right now. This man you’ve seemingly hated. 

But you know he’s right, all that hatred was actually flirtation. 

You’ve never seen him out with another woman. He’s never taken one home from the bar. Hell, you’re pretty sure you’ve watched him toss a phone number the second the girl turned away from him. 

At this realization, you can’t remember the last time you flirted with anyone who wasn’t the man in front of you. 

Hangman doesn’t count, he’s the resident playboy. It’s not your fault if you flirt back. 

Bradley leans in a little closer, searching your eyes for any hesitation. When he finds none, he leans in juuuust a little more. 

“Just tell me to stop,” he cautions. 

You absolutely don’t want him to. Craning your face up to take him in, he takes this as full-steam-ahead. 

As he crushes his mouth to yours, you would have been a fool to stop him. You’ve never kissed anyone like this. Kisses of urgency, longing, and honestly, breathtaking. It’s as if every other man you kissed was only practice. Bradley must feel the same way because you cannot mistake the groan that just fell from his lips. The sound buzzing against yours deliciously. 

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmurs in your ear. Bradley presses his body into yours, tightly tucking you in between him and the elevator wall. His erection presses into your lower half, and if his bedroom performance is anything like his kisses… 

Your hands slither up his chest to grip his t-shirt. He smirks against your lips before changing direction and claiming your neck. 

“You taste every bit as sweet as I thought you would,” he says. “My fantasies don’t even come close.” 

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can grab it, letting him know just what his words are doing to you. He chuckles against your neck, that mustache of his feeling exactly as you thought it would. 

He’s not the only one with fantasies. Bradley’s hands reach for the top of your jeans, pulling you to attention. 

“Bradley, there are cameras in here,” you say. There’s no way you’re having sex with Bradley for the first time in an elevator. He just ignores you, pulling your mouth back to his, offering you hungry kisses. 

“You’ve never called me that before.” He pulls back just enough for the words to leave his mouth, and then he’s back to his ministrations. “I do not care.” 

“I do, my dad probably has access to them,” you say, killing that erection immediately at the mention of your admiral father. 

“Fuck,” Bradley concedes, dropping his arms from around you. He puts as much distance between the two of you as he can, his eyes promising more to come once this elevator is fixed. 

Rooster punches the emergency button again. 

“Sir, the crew is working as hard as they can to get the elevator operational.” 

“Let them know the admiral’s daughter is also stuck in here, and she has a very important meeting to make,” he responds, never taking his eyes off of you. Bradley drops his left eye in a flirty wink, that smirk on his face as equally delicious.

#top gun maverick #top gun #top gun maverick fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #rooster x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster x oc #rooster smut #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine

[xaviers-star-tassel]

⭐️ sleep, i’m here

✦ pairing: xavier / gn!reader

✦ genre: fluff

✦ warnings: hopefully, none

✦ word count: 1.6k words

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ: you’ve recently had troubles falling asleep. luckily, your sleepy neighbor and partner is there to help

⋆˙ ✦ note: this is my first ever fic that i uploaded, so it might not be perfect! i may or may not upload more in the future, depends on how well this will do. i have to thank my friend for finally giving me the kick to actually upload this, because i would probably never post this if it weren’t for them

another sleepless night. turn after turn, no matter what you did, you just couldn’t turn your mind off. it had been like this for over a week. eyes droopy, skin sickly paler than usual. you were a mess with the darkest circles under your eyes.

you couldn’t even think straight. with how tired you were, your performance during missions got sloppy. mistakes, mishaps, injuries. things that were usually rare in your case, were now a daily part of your work. your skin was covered in cuts and bruises, making each squirm against the soft mattress painful.

whenever someone asked if you were doing well, you mustered up the speckle of energy to cover up the exhaustion pulsing within every particle of your body. others seemed to brush it off, even tara asked about your well being less frequently. though, unbeknownst to you, there was one person who was keeping an eye on you, even more than before.

that someone was none other than your partner and neighbor—xavier.

since he was always making sure you were safe, you didn’t particularly found his concern strange. it was nothing out of the ordinary, at least that was how it seemed to you. perhaps it was your sleep deprived mind, because you seemed to be utterly blind to his actions.

whenever your head was close to bumping a corner of your desk when you dropped your pen, his hand was quick to cover it. when you couldn’t keep your eyes open while filing documents, he secretly left a cup of coffee on your desk. your tired mind was making you believe you were slowly losing it at the sight of freshly brewed coffee, as bitter as possible to give you the energetic kick you need. bitter like the one from xavier’s brewing machine, you always thought to yourself as you took a sip, then cringed at the taste.

as you continued to restlessly lie on your bed, not even a blink of sleep coming to you, you tossed your blanket aside to sit up. your eyelids were heavy and sight blurry as tears of frustration welled up in your eyes. you wanted to cry, but you were tired even for that.

oh, how you wanted to steal at least a little of xavier’s drowsiness at that moment. you were sure that your neighbor was now sleeping soundly, while you were suffering in the darkness of your bedroom.

when you dropped yourself back onto the mattress, a sudden ring of your phone tore you away from a total breakdown. without looking, you picked your phone up. your eyes slowly adjusted to the light upon turning it on, and you were met with a message from xavier. huh, speak of the devil.

xavier: Are U awake

you stared at the adorable bunny chat bubble for a good minute. in your astonishment, you didn’t even manage to get bothered by the capitalized ‘U’ in the middle of a sentence like you usually did. your thumbs slowly typed in a short ‘yes’ before sending it, surprising you once more at the speed he read it.

xavier: Come here. Ill leave the door open for U

was he really just inviting you to his place in the middle of the night? why was he not asleep? despite your confusion, you didn’t hesitate to take up on his offer. leaving the last text unanswered, you lazily got up from the bed. with the phone in your hand, and a pair of slippers on your feet, you made your way out of your apartment.

you walked quietly along the hallway, careful not to disturb the neighbors. since he lived on the floor above yours, you found it useless to wait for the elevator. somehow, the idea of seeing xavier fueled you with at least enough energy to walk up to his apartment on your own tired feet, and it took only a minute or two for you to stand before the door, which were in fact opened just for you.

you barged into xavier’s apartment with a quiet step, closing the door behind your back. when the lock clicked, the silver haired head poked out from behind the doorframe of his bedroom. he smiled upon seeing you, silently inviting you in.

with your eyes half closed, you waddled to him. every step you took suddenly felt heavy, as if your entire skeleton was made of steel. the short distance that was the hall of his apartment appeared to be endless to your aching body.

finally, you were standing next to him. your head dropped onto his shoulder, which was something you wouldn’t normally do without feeling flustered. but with how exhausted you were, you couldn’t care less as you closed the small gap between you.

“there you go,” he muttered into the crown of your head, lips pressed against your hair.

your only answer was a low grumble that vibrated from your chest. xavier wrapped his arm around your waist, leading you to his bed. he gently laid you on the left side of the mattress before crawling up to you.

you watched his every move. he made himself comfortable on his side to face you, one arm bent under his head and the other propped against your waist.

the dim light radiating from the lamp behind you illuminated his face, letting you see the worried expression on his face. he studied your features without uttering a word, his warm breath caressing your cheeks. reaching his arm up, he cupped your face. the pad of his thumb rubbed the deep dark circles underneath your eyes, his touch careful and gentle.

“why didn’t you tell me anything?” he suddenly asked, catching you off guard.

you let out a sigh, pressing your cheek against his calloused palm. “i didn’t want to worry you.”

silent chuckle erupted from his throat as he shook his head. his hand slid down from your face back to your waist, expression no longer as tense as it was a second ago.

“you know i’d worry no matter what, right? after all, it was me who was making sure you wouldn’t hit your head against your desk whenever you dropped your pen,” he whispered with a smile.

this revelation had left you surprised. connecting the dots in your brain, all of the images appeared in a clear vision between your eyes. from the freshly brewed bitter coffee to the neat stack of documents that you left scattered on your desk the day before. it was all him. and only now were you realizing it.

“so i wasn’t going insane. thank goodness, i thought that my mind was playing tricks with me,” you joked meekly, huffing a laugh through your nose.

his eyes softened when he heard you laugh briefly, though deep down, he was still worried. how couldn’t he be worried? not once had he saved you from your potential doom while fighting off wanderers within the last few days.

“still, you should’ve told me,” he scolded you, though not very sternly. he didn’t have the heart to be hard on you when you looked like a distressed bundle of drowsiness.

you hummed in acknowledgment. guilt suddenly washed over you that you didn’t notice it sooner, but it was too late to cry over spilled milk.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, glancing into his eyes.

xavier took your hand in his, inspecting the scrapes and small cuts on your fingers and palm. he lifted the hand upwards, letting his lips graze over your knuckles.

“please, don’t apologize to me. you did nothing wrong,” he said softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “just… let me know in the future. i don’t want to see you like this.”

the caring tone made you feel slightly emotional, if only you realized sooner just how worried he was.

“i will, xavier. i promise,” you nodded, lips curling into a tired smile.

he extended his pinky finger toward you, smiling while doing so. “then let’s seal the deal. pinky promises shall never be broken.”

you chuckled at the silly gesture, but you complied anyway. your pinky fingers hooked together, holding them right under your chin. only then you realized how small the gap between your faces was. the tip of his nose was merely inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your skin.

your gaze flickered down to his pink lips, the sudden desire to kiss them bubbled within your chest. xavier noticed where you stared right away, making his ears turn faint red. as if he could read your mind, he slowly began to lean in. his deep blue eyes were focused on yours, closing them only after his lips touched yours.

he hummed in what seemed like relief as he melted into the kiss. the world suddenly fell completely still, the only thing that mattered was the tender moment you shared. xavier unhooked his pinky from yours to pull you closer to him, desperately wanting to feel your warmth.

the kiss only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away. thanks to the soft light of the lamp, you caught a glimpse of the reddish dust on his cheeks. you watched as he took a deep breath before relaxing his head against the fluffy pillow.

“let’s take a day off. you must catch up on sleep, even if you’ll sleep for a whole day,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering close.

“is that really okay?” you asked worriedly.

“yes, i’m sure others will understand. now sleep, i’m here for you,” he pressed a last kiss to your forehead before relaxing completely.

the comfort and the heat radiating from his body was slowly but surely lulling you to much needed sleep. letting out a small yawn, you pressed your forehead to his chest. your breathing pattern slowed down, signaling to xavier that you had fallen asleep.

“no matter what happens, i’ll always be there for you. that is my promise to you.”

© xaviers-star-tassel

#love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier #lads xavier #lads x reader #love and deepspace fanfiction #l&ds x reader #l&ds xavier #l&ds #otome game #xavier fluff

[deandoesthingstome]

Gothic Fantasy

Pairing: Vampire!August x Reader

Summary: Are you in over your head, little girl?

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v (doggy style), anal toy/anal sex, dom!August, Sir and princess, monster fucking (which involves at least one bite, right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You took your time with a little extra research, but the ancient myth vibe of the story you created out of your experience with Sy was a hit and your werewolf!boyfriend tale had been picking up steam thanks to the upcoming holiday. Subscriptions were rolling in which left you both excited and anxious. 

sendmeanangel: i have enough to cover at least two more stays even if nothing more comes in at this point MNstrluvr: how could nothing more come in?  sendmeanangel: look, i’m having a great time, but at some point in my life i should probably stop paying for monster sex and get a boyfriend, right? darkgothnightengale: that time doesn’t have to be right now. Besides, how will you ever go back to some regular guy? sendmeanangel: very funny. This can’t be a sustainable way to go through life. I just worry people will start feeling like they are owed new monster fucking tales every week because they subscribed to read the ones already out there. I don’t want to let people down or make them think they got played somehow MNstrluvr: what if when you get to the point where you think you're through, you make that clear to any new subscribers? And just because you aren’t fucking a new monster at the hotel every week doesn’t mean you can’t keep writing amazing stories that your followers will love darkgothnightengale: you can write whatever you want when you want. There’s nothing on the site that promises content on any kind of consistent basis and people can always stop subscribing if they feel cheated, which is stupid because they are still getting quality content. you have a voice that people like to read. It doesn’t have to be about shapeshifters or vampires sendmeanangel: speaking of which MNstrluvr: YES!!! I’m so glad you decided to try him next. I cannot wait. He looks so fucking hot sendmeanangel: yeah, well walter continues to be completely booked. besides, they all look fucking hot lol MNstrluvr: there’s just something even more dangerous in his eyes. He looks totally unhinged. In a good way. darkgothnightengale: the best way sendmeanangel: you guys are crazy

“It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for signing the T&C online this time. I hope you had a chance to look through the extra restrictions on this room. It's very important that they are adhered to.”

Were you being called out? Did the hotel somehow know your two previous hosts had broken rules for you? Hopefully no one was getting into trouble.

“We simply don't want any mishaps,” as if in answer to the questions swirling in your mind. Though it still didn't tell you if they knew.

The desk clerk handed you another heavy iron key. Where the mechanism to open the forest room last month had been fairly plain and rustic, this one was filled with intricate lacy patterns. You wanted to snap a picture of the antique gothic skeleton key and send it to your online friends but decided it might be too much like bragging. After all, this would be the third fantasy visit they'd talked you into. Not that you needed much prodding anymore. That they couldn't partake in reality was making you feel bad, no matter how happy for you your friends said they were.

You made your way down the hall after exiting the elevator and stopped before the heavy wooden arched door full of intricately carved details that matched the key in your hand. The room was dark when you stepped in, but before you could reach for a light switch, a deep voice spoke from across the room, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're late."

"I only just checked in."

"And no apology, I see. It's five after. We were to start on the hour. I assumed that was clear, but maybe I'll need to remind you of the importance of punctuality during our time together."

A finger snap sounded from the place in the dark where you heard the voice and flames lit up a fireplace nearby. Your eyes were drawn there, hoping the glow of the flame would illuminate your host, but no one appeared. All you saw was the carved stone of the mantle and wrought iron candelabras filled with fat pillars that were lighting one by one as if by magic as well.

As the warm light began to bathe the room, you felt a rush of air behind you and heard the door to the room slam shut. You turned to see nothing again, though you heard the click of a lock.

"Did you at least come prepared?" the voice sounded near your ear, though again, no one was to be seen as you spun once more to face into the room.

"I did," you answered into the space in front of you, even as you peered left and right. Where the fuck was he?

“Right here,” he spoke from behind you again, and this time you could see as well as feel the hands that gripped your upper arms and held you tight against the solid form behind you. You glanced at the fingers curled around your biceps and licked your lips, thinking of where you’d rather have them. Caressing your face. Around your throat. Thrust deep inside…”Before we get there, I believe you owe me an apology.”

And now you had a choice. How would that apology go? Remain standing like an insolent brat or kneel to the man you wanted to dominate you this evening? Not that he wouldn’t dominate the brat as well, but maybe you didn’t need it to be so demanding this first time. His fingers loosened as you began to turn toward him but you sunk to your knees before you saw his face, so it wasn’t until you lifted your chin to plead forgiveness that you had the opportunity to drink him in.

He was dressed in sharp black pants with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. A neatly pressed black button up shirt with french cuffs and mother of pearl links sat behind a black silk brocade vest with mother of pearl buttons. In the light, you couldn’t tell for sure, but the pattern in the vest seemed to match the key as well. A blood-red silk tie paired with a handkerchief peeking from the front of his jet black jacket that set off his broad shoulders nicely and was buttoned at the right height to taper his waist.

But his face. You inhaled to keep yourself steady before you spoke the words requesting his forgiveness. The calming breath helped you take in more of his visage without fainting on the spot. 

His jawline was strong. And unlike the fuller beards of Walter or Sy, this man’s facial hair consisted of a five o’clock shadow and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark hair was swept back to the side, though you could tell if he hadn’t styled it perfectly, the curl would take over. You’d love to see it sometime. Maybe even tonight.

What caught your breath in your throat was his piercing blue eyes and it took you a few moments to realize he was laughing at you. You had to fight to gain control from his mesmerizing gaze, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he already was.

“I said," Apology accepted” and you can stand now, princess. Show me what you came with.” He helped you to stand, then drew his hand down your arm as he took a step back. He dropped your hand and motioned toward you before he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head as if to say “go ahead now.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if you’d made the right ensemble choice. Though it matched his outfit perfectly somehow, you were hesitant to bare so much to him so soon. But there was no turning back now. Well, of course there was, but you didn’t want to. At best, you could imagine excusing yourself to use the restroom and changing into a different outfit.

You undid the belt on your long, black trench coat, then popped the buttons one by one until you could open the flaps and shrug the coat off your shoulders and down your arms. You were about to let it drop to the floor, but something made you stop and hold the fabric in your hands at your sides.

“May I take your coat?” he asked like the gentleman he was portraying, holding out a hand and you reached it over to him, before smoothing your hands down the body of your black strapless gown, worrying away the non-existent wrinkles. A few blood-red rose embellishments nestled strategically into the delicate embroidery woven along the sheer black lace bodice of the dress, your bare skin visible only in the spots where no design was found. You released the clasps attaching the hem of the dress to the waist and allowed the full length of the black silk skirt to flow to the ground. It sported a trail of matching but larger floral adornments cascading in spiral from one hip across the front and down the other side. With the matching red silk pumps, you were a vision. You felt a rush of air and as you lifted your gaze from your dress back to him, your coat seemed to have disappeared, because it was no longer in his hands. And the look on his face told you you’d made the right choice.

“You look ravishing.” At his words of praise you forgot all about where your coat might have gotten off to.

“Is this okay?”

“If this is the attire you wished to begin in, then it’s perfect. We’ve already lost so much precious time with your late arrival.”

You stood silent, unsure if he was asking for another apology. It seemed like a bad idea to let him actually ask before you offered another, but your voice was stuck in your throat, so taken were you by his demeanor. It turned out you were wrong to wait.

“I don’t like to ask for apologies, but trust that I will whenever they are warranted. Hopefully, you’ll begin to know when you’ve crossed a line. I suppose technically, you have already apologized, so I won’t ask for another. This time.” At the admonishment, you dropped your gaze to the floor with embarrassment. “I also ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. So many lessons you’re learning already and you don’t even know my name yet. Allow me to correct that. My name is August Walker and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally.”

What did he mean by finally? Here, now, in this room when he finally shared his name and lifted your arm to kiss the back of your hand? Or had he heard stories about you too? 

“May I add something to your ensemble?” You could practically hear the subtle tilt of his head in question.

“Of course,” you replied, willing your nerves to allow you to look up at him again.

“It's only, well, you look so delicious. I'm afraid I'll need a reminder, or rather, a deterrent.” His hands raised, something appearing between his fingers as if from nowhere. You noticed a wide band of heavy black embroidered ribbon with metal clasps at each end. Your chin tilted almost involuntarily to allow him room to place the choker around your neck.

“You don’t want to…?” Was he not going to bite you? Did you make a mistake by not actually reading the T&C when you signed, scrolling quickly to the end of the form and checking the box as fast as you could to make sure the room wasn’t swiped from under you before you’d had a chance to complete the online booking.

“I never said that,” he replied, stepping in closer as he traced a finger around one side of your neck, down over your collarbone, and stopping just at the valley between your breasts.

“Is there a rule you’re afraid of breaking with me?” you asked, craning to bring your lips closer to his.

“I don't break the rules darling, I make them.” August returned his hand to your neck, stilling your advancement with the smallest effort.

“Well then, are you unable to actually bite me?” you asked, not sure whether you wanted him to consider this a question that crossed the line.

“Oh, I'm free to bite when and where you want. Many foolishly ask for the neck. In those moments, I usually oblige.”

“But…” you began.

“But there is a sweeter spot, more delicate, most delicious. This,” he let his finger run along the material around your throat, ”will help me make the better choice for both of us.”

You drew in a quick breath through your nose, causing a shudder in your shoulders as you realized you’d been holding your breath while he hinted at where he’d prefer to bite you. You’d chosen the dress specifically because it bared so much of your body near your neck that you’d hoped he couldn’t help but want to taste you. You foolishly never considered how much more bare you’d need to be before he was able to see the spot he wanted.

His dark chuckle unnerved you, but he quelled your apprehension with an invitation to join him at the dinner table. You’d completely forgotten that this experience had promised an evening meal, but honestly you assumed that was just some clever play on words. That you were to be the meal. He escorted you to a corner of the room near the fireplace, where a sumptuous feast had been set, and deposited you on one side of the table before taking a seat across from you.

“Would you care for some wine this evening?”

“Wine sounds lovely,” you answered, suddenly curious if he’d be drinking and eating with you. You watched as he lifted a decanted red and filled your glass, only to replace the crystal container onto the table before pouring a glass of his own from a dark brown glass bottle. He lifted his glass to toast your evening.

You watched carefully as he brought the goblet to his lips and drank, noticing that no obvious fangs appeared as he opened his mouth, though his canines did seem a little longer than you were used to. At least until recently that was. The men at this hotel all seemed to have been genetically gifted with glorious canine teeth and you weren’t complaining in the least.

“Now, what can I offer you to eat?” Cut fruit sat in open bowls alongside a tray of sliced meats and cheeses. He began to lift the covers off several porcelain serving dishes, revealing chicken and beef dishes, as well as vegetables and roasted potatoes. At your hesitancy, he smiled, as if extremely pleased, and continued. “Or would you prefer I choose for you?”

“I’d like it very much if you would recommend something. It all looks so wonderful.”

“Would you pass me your plate?” You obliged and he ladled servings of a few of the dishes. You noted with curiosity that he was choosing everything you would have chosen for yourself and none of the items you’d already determined you didn’t want to try, though you hadn’t said a word.

You thanked him as he handed your plate back and he invited you to begin, which you did. Because he’d asked you to. As you took your first bite, you moaned at the taste in your mouth and you thought you saw him lick his lips. What you didn’t see him do was serve himself.

“Is it to your liking then?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s delicious, thank you August…may I call you August?”

“For now. Now, what shall we talk about at this very civilized dinner we’re having together?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair, goblet in one hand, as the fingers of the other drew lazy circles on the tablecloth. 

“Can we talk about how it doesn’t appear you're actually going to be eating with me?” You knew it was a bold question, but you still wanted to needle him a little, see where the line was.

“You see, it’s the insolence I mind. Not the question. There is a way to go about asking what you want to know without making it seem like you are trying to anger me. Or are you? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, August,” you spoke as you placed your fork down. You had a sudden, unfortunate thought. What if you weren’t the only one who could call the whole thing off? What if your hosts had just as much right to pull out a safeword and end the liaison? You supposed, even though you were paying for the pleasure, they had to have a say in things as well. Otherwise, they were just…the thought made you shudder and not in a good way. “I am truly sorry. That was rude of me. Are you able to eat with me?”

“I am not. But I’m more than happy to enjoy your company and a more pleasant conversation while you dine. If you agree, of course.”

“Of course. Please, can we start over?”

“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” he commanded. “Continue your meal. And consider what you would like to talk about.” He took another drink and watched you with deeply penetrating eyes.

The meal was delicious and you finally figured out a topic of conversation that was neither too personal nor banal. When you made him laugh, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, as if his heavy and dark demeanor had made you nervous that this choice of hotel hosts was a mistake.

You had always been a bit enthralled with vampires. Loved reading Dracula both as published and in chronological order, as you’d heard about on Tumblr. Enjoyed the myriad of cinematic adaptations of the tale, especially the ones that played up the sensuality of the character. You really never imagined them to be real, but then again, you didn’t think werewolves or minotaurs were real either. For a brief moment, you thought back to your previous visits, letting your fork trail down with a slow descent.

“Finished?” he asked when your utensil hit the plate, eyebrow raised in question as he leaned forward preparing to scoot his chair back from the table. Before you’d even finished your nod, he was at your chair, easing it away from the table and offering you a hand to help you up.

“I think it’s quite time to get started on the rest of your lessons. Would you step to the window please?”

You turned and noticed the thick, black velvet curtains and assumed they must cover a window. You were commanded to open them, and you did, peering out into practical darkness only to see your reflection in place of any scenery. You glanced to the side of your image when you felt the fingertips at the top of your zipper, but though you knew they were attached to arms, attached to a body that was pressed right against you, adding more drag to his knuckles against your skin as he pulled the zipper down, you saw nothing in the mirrored window that would tell you another being was in the room with you.

You gasped, but he mistook it for shyness.

“I like to show off my conquests to whomever may be passing by below. We’re far enough up that no one could make out a face, but the body they’ll see,” he finished unzipping your dress and pushed it down your sides, letting it drop to a puddle of fabric at your feet. “The hint of red from these barely there panties, the silhouette of these curves.” You could feel but still not see his hands running up and down the sides of your body, his hands gripping your thighs before traveling up to cup your breasts. You watched as they bounced lightly in the reflection and smirked back at where you assumed his face would be before licking your matte red lips.

Your concentration was broken for a brief moment at the far off sound of a melancholy howl, but August didn’t let you linger on the thought. He spun you around to him and pressed you back toward the window, where you hissed when your ass came into contact with the chilly pane. How he missed the clink against the window, you’ll never know.

Then he caught your attention and you lost all concern for how exposed or cold your body might be at the moment. The change was practically imperceptible. One moment, he held your gaze with his dark and stormy eyes. In the next blink, his eyes burned red and held you rapt as he began to grin. Slowly, as his lips drew back, the fangs descended and you could swear you heard a faint click.

You probably let out a whimper when you saw him run his tongue along the sharp points and you definitely tilted your head on impulse, forgetting for a moment that he had already refused to take you there.

“I’d like you on your knees, please,” he asked, a little nicer than you imagined he had reason to be. Once you had obliged, he returned to commands. “Take me out.”

You did so gladly and without delay. Every assumption you made turned out to be right. He was just as well endowed as your other hosts, at least in human form. Which was nothing to sneeze at and you certainly weren’t kicking it out of bed.

You feasted on him as if you hadn’t just already eaten and you were happy to hear the sounds from him that told you he was enjoying it. And then he spoke to you.

“You like sucking on this cock, where everyone can see you, don’t you?” 

Truth be told, it had never occurred to you before. But there was an exhibitionism option on the registration form and you clicked it in a moment of audacity. He was simply giving you what you had asked for, right? It would feel this way for any guest he had in this room, right? That feeling of being out of control while technically being in the most control? You wanted him to take it.

“Yes,” you gasped as you pulled your head back for air before diving forward to take him down your throat again.

“I knew that you would. You like being naughty, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down as you looked up at him, praying he didn’t make you take him out of your mouth just so he could hear you answer verbally. Your prayers were not answered.

“I asked you a question. Would you care to answer? Now? You know how I feel about punctuality, I trust.”

“Yes. Yes August, I’m sorry. I do. I really do like being naughty with you.” 

Another howl sounded, closer this time and you thought you detected the slightest of eye rolls before August got stern again, reaching down to take hold of your upper arm and lifting you to your feet with ease.

“You’re going to call me Sir from here on out and you’re going to be naughty another way now. First, close the curtains.” He spun you around so you could grab hold of the panels and draw them towards one another. You thought you glimpsed a pair of eyes, a deep glowing amber flame in the night before you shut out the world for good for the moment.

August pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “I’ll open them again if you want, if you didn’t get enough of a taste of that. I’ll take that as far as you want to go. But you should know,... he’ll see.”

It both excited you and made you afraid. Afraid of the feelings you knew had been stirring for weeks now. And yet, you were here. In this room. With this man. As much as you thought about what might be, you also knew you wanted to experience what you could. So you’d never have to doubt or question, because you knew you’d be getting the best in the end. Could it really ever be that way? Could he ever feel the same?

“I’m good. Thank you. That’s really kind of you,” you blinked, bringing yourself back to this moment. To August. “Sir.”

“That might be the last time tonight I will be. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Sir” you answered, with no more doubt.

August took you in his arms and kissed you deep and hard, one time, before he turned you by your shoulders and gave you a firm slap on the ass. “Into the bedroom.” The ‘now” at your hesitation was punctuated with another sharp crack and you were wet, there was no doubt about it. 

The hotel suite was bathed in sheer red curtains, over the window, over the ornate gothic canopy bed, draped down the black walls. Tall black metal candelabras held glowing candles to light the room. Hooks and straps and rings attached to the walls in various spots held your attention for a brief moment. You hadn’t checked that box, and now you wondered why not. 

You could only see yourself trying a few new things at once.

These things tonight would be a vampire. And you’d already exposed yourself. Only one more to go, and the bondage wasn’t going to be it.

August turned you back towards him when you reached the foot of the bed, then proceeded to undress. You watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his jacket, the vest, his shirtsleeves, his shirt. You watched as it all came off, one piece at a time, designed to torture you, you were sure of it. He was fucking with you. Keeping you from seeing everything all at once.

You bit your lip, but all you wanted to say was ‘i’ve seen your dick already it’s been in my mouth please give it back.’

He finally did, ordering you to the bed on your hands and knees as he stepped his fully naked body toward you, halting at the foot of the bed to grab your head and stuff his cock right down your throat. Like he’d heard what you thought.

You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together for friction as you gyrated your hips and bobbed your head back and forth along his length. It would take barely nothing, just the slightest touch, if he would just, yeah, just…

“Oh, you did come prepared, didn’t you?”

You moaned again when you felt his fingers slide over your ass and pause to rub against the handle of the largest teardrop plug you owned. It came in a set of three, black silicone with a shiny red crystal in each handle. Up until this week, you'd only ever used the smallest while alone, but decided you needed to be ready and so had worked your way up to the largest just last night. 

“Yes, Sir,” you pulled off and answered quickly, eager to get back to sucking his large member.

“What are you prepared for?” He wiggled the handle a little when he asked.

“For you to fuck my ass, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he slapped a cheek again, then smoothed his hand over the sting and down in the dip to find your aching pussy and just like you knew it would, his touch lit you on fire. He had the wherewithal to slide your thong to the side and angle two fingers so you could press back into them on your withdrawal from his dick and pull away from them, though he’d chase, on your approach. You fucked back into his hand like you were possessed and you came once more because you definitely were.

This man owned you. For tonight anyway. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t say no. No way in hell.

He pulled away and turned you to face the other direction, ass waving in the space directly in front of him as you imagined and wished and hoped he’d just fuck you, please very much. He chuckled and you blinked, imagining you’d seen him now standing at the nightstand, now right behind you again. You felt him pull your underwear all the way off. And you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and you felt him slide two fingers back inside you, felt him rub the pads of his fingers along your inner walls and you felt him find the right spot, the one that released more lubrication which he gladly gathered on his finger and smeared all over his sheathed cock before he pressed himself into you.

He fucked you for a bit before he spoke again.

“I’m going to give you what you want me to give you, and then you’re going to give me what you want to give me.” With a slap on your ass, he pulled out, grabbed your hips and flipped you to your back. You watched him discard the condom before he climbed on to the bed and stepped his knees between your legs, nudging you further up the bed so that he could lay his body on the mattress, his head on your thigh, peering at your puffy pussy.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, dipping his head down to take a taste. His tongue trailed through your folds and as his lips closed you felt a hint of the scrape of his teeth against your delicate skin. He sucked at your clit for a moment before he drew back and looked up at you.

“You still want to feel this?” he asked, and you paused for one moment to consider, that yes, yes you absolutely still wanted to know what his bite would feel like. There was really no doubt in your mind. It’s what you came here for. And you knew you needed to answer him directly or it would all be over.

“Yes, Sir. Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to feel your bite.”

It was all he needed. In a flash he was at the crease in your thigh, just outside your cunt. You felt his mouth open, felt him drag his teeth back and forth before he finally settled on a spot to sink them. Your pussy pulsed around nothing but the brief rhythmic flow of your blood drawn into his mouth. 

You felt a rush of euphoria, a warmth like never before. A million stars lit up in your eyes and you could feel every molecule in your body and every one of them was in a state of bliss. You felt him take one more pull, a wave rushing across the shore of your imagination. When he stopped, it was almost as torturous as before he had begun. At least now you knew what that bliss could feel like.

It scared you a little. It felt like a drug you didn't want to mess around with. As good as it felt, you could imagine never wanting to let the feeling go. Begging for more. Offering up your body and soul to get one more taste, one more drifting orgasm.

Suddenly you were aware of the softest lick. The smallest peck of the lips. When you looked up at you, a stain of blood still remained on his lips and he saw you moan, saw you begin to writhe and strain up, even against the voice in your head that told you it was wrong, and it was all he could do to turn away. 

“Please August,” you begged, forgetting what role you were in.

“Princess, not for a million dollars. Not for ten million. There is literally nothing you could offer me that would make me break that rule.”

“What rule, August? What can’t you do for me?” you pleaded for an answer, pressing yourself up to your knees, unaware that the rush you were experiencing had nothing to do with the way you thought you felt about August in the moment, and everything to do with the essence he used to ease the pain of the skin break, numb the feeling of loss, and reseal the wound in the aftermath.

“I get the feeling you really didn’t read the T&C, darling. If you had you would know, in this room, this suite,” he emphasized, as if he’d had to make that clarification before, “I cannot feed you. Even if what you’ve scented is your own blood. It’s too dangerous for you to taste it. Full of my saliva. Mixed together, it’s too potent for you.”

You were distraught and he was … was he amused?

“But I’ve given you what you asked for. Are you still ready to give me what you want?” He waited a few moments, allowing you to come to grips with the reality of the situation. You had slipped over a line, though it didn’t sound like this was something he hadn’t experienced before. A naive young thing, determined to play out a school girl fantasy, relive the stories she made up about being ravished and taken by the Count, made to be his bride. 

With a small shake of your head, something cleared its way to the forefront of your mind. Of course he couldn’t feed you and of course you didn’t really want him to. It was a fantasy. That’s it. That’s all. You could only take this so far.

Once he saw you understood where the line was, August's chuckle was sinister. “You can still have something new. I’m more than happy to accommodate that request. As a matter of fact, I think that’s really the only reason you came here tonight, isn’t that right?”

Oh, he was good. That’s for sure. The way he was subtly shifting the priority of the night. Technically speaking, the only thing you’d really wanted was the bite. And he’d already given that to you. So if you were up for one more game…

“That’s right.”

He grabbed your chin and stared directly into your eyes. “That’s right, what?”

“That’s right, SIr.”

“Good girl. Lay back down. I’ll be right back.”

You wanted to kiss him goodbye as he let go of your face and appeared to float away from you. When he returned from the bathroom, his face was fresh and free of any temptation.

“Alright, princess. Hands and knees again, darling. Bring that ass right on over here,” he directed you back to the edge of the bed, ass once again in the air while you rested on your forearms. 

August took his time. Warmed you up with a few more light taps that grew to harsh stings that you couldn’t stop squirming for. And you squirmed again when he tugged and twisted and pulled on the handle, teasing the plug almost all the way out before pushing it back in and then repeating the exquisite torture. You couldn’t hold still until he’d finally pulled it all the way out and pressed two lubed fingers into your puckered hole, and it was only because you needed a moment. Needed to let the sensation settle. Needed to relax to let him in deeper. Let another finger in. It wasn’t long before you were fucking yourself back on his hand again. ‘Same but different’ was all your mind could cobble together.

“Please, Sir,” you managed to gasp out in a moment of clarity. If you never asked, would he have just kept you dangling like this all night? “Please fuck my ass.”

“There you go, princess. You’ve found your manners finally.” He pulled his fingers out and you heard the familiar tear of another wrapper. Felt more lube. And finally, finally had the tip of what you knew was his extremely large cock pressed against your entrance. 

It was easy to relax. He’d been prepping you for this for what felt like hours. It took nothing more than for you to release the deep breath you’d taken and he was past the now-less-tight ring and moving further inside you, slowly and with purpose. That purpose was to get you comfortable with the feeling, loosen you up further, and get you begging for more of him. Faster. Harder. Please, Sir. Please! More!

He obliged and it was not much longer before you felt the familiar coil tightening in a brand new way. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You were breaking protocol and screaming his name instead of Sir, but as he came himself, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker #vampire!august #vampire!august walker #vampire!august x reader #vampire!august walker x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #gothic fantasy #mine #deandoesthingstome

[wavypotatochips]

Elevator Mishap || Central Cee

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : CentralCee x Female reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 : You find yourself trapped in an elevator with a mysterious stranger who turns out to be the famous rapper Central Cee in disguise. [FLUFF/ LIGHT TENSION]

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵  

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: HIIIII GUYS omg so much stuff has happened personally in my life but I am back and better!! Central Cee is so fine and I just always wanted to write something with him lol. Its been a while since I have wrote something, so bare with me c': I have no requests, so feel free to send some in! 

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

"I find it hard to believe I'm actually here," you murmur under your breath, a mix of disbelief and disinterest coloring your tone as you wait for the elevator to reach your floor. While most girls would gush with excitement at the prospect of attending a Central Cee concert in the UK alongside their best friends, Stacey and Rosalina, you find yourself unable to share in their fervor. The trio, inseparable since middle school, practically dragged you along when they scored free tickets to the concert, complete with all expenses paid. Despite their infectious enthusiasm for Central Cee, you couldn't summon the same level of excitement, feeling rather indifferent towards his music. Meanwhile, your best friends are back in the hotel room, immersed in making TikToks while belting out Central Cee's tunes. You made an excuse about needing to run down to the convenience store on the ground floor to grab a snack, eager to escape the impending festivities. As the elevator doors finally slide open, you step inside, your mind already elsewhere, contemplating the potentially underwhelming night ahead, especially given your lack of interest in the artist.

Absentmindedly humming to yourself, you press the button for the ground floor before casually leaning against the elevator wall. A brief moment of panic strikes as you pat your pockets, realizing your phone must have been left behind in the hotel room. Before you can fully process this inconvenience, the elevator lurches upward, and a figure clad entirely in black, sporting a ski mask, shades, and a hat, enters. You brush off the peculiar attire, attributing it to the chilly weather outside, but a faint sense of unease begins to gnaw at you as the elevator door closes.

The person does not press any buttons, signaling they were also going to the bottom floor like you were. You tried not to stare at the person beside you, but the clothes they were wearing screamed wealth. You look at their shoes as the elevator begins to go down. Suddenly, the elevator comes to a stop with a shake. You widen your eyes as anxiety kicks in, confused on what is going on. You look over at the stranger, not being able to see their expression before walking over and pressing the first-floor button again. This time, the elevator doesn't seem to budge nor is it telling you what floor you two are currently on.

“There's no way,” noticing the elevator may be stuck, your heart sinks down. The stranger walks closer to you, giving them a try themselves to press the buttons. You step back to give them room. Noticing the buttons will not budge for them either, you sigh and press the red button that signals a representative. A few minutes pass before someone speaks, “Hello? Is everything alright?,” the statically voice states.

“Yeah, ummm I think the elevator is stuck. We also can’t see what floor we are on,” you respond.

“Okay, please remain calm we are sen-,” the voice cuts off.

“Hello?,” you question, “HELLLOOOOOO?,” spamming the button again.

“Lady we can't hear YOUUU!,” You state pressing the button.

“You should stop before you break it.” The voice of the person speaks with a deep British accent, you now know they are a male. You turn to look at him, continuing to press the button a few more times before stopping. You sigh, sitting down on the floor.

“Just great,” you mumble while lowering your head in defeat. You are not someone with claustrophobia, plus the elevator was a decent size so it's not as if you were scared you were trapped. Only annoyed. While your head is low, you hear clothes shuffling causing you to look back up. The man begins to take off his coat and hat, probably also realizing we are not going to be getting out anytime soon. You shift your legs so you are now sitting criss-cross on the floor, your back against the wall as you look up at the elevator's ceiling.

“Don't worry, I bet they will come soon,” the man speaks once again with a reassuring voice. You keep your head up, “I know, it just sucks. This is my first time in the UK and I'm spending my first night trapped in an elevator with a stranger, no offense.” You hear a chuckle, ”None taken. What are you in the UK for if you don't mind me asking?” You can tell he just wanted small talk, and you didn't mind. I mean after all, you are stuck here for who knows how long.

 “My Best friends and I are here for the Central Cee concert,” you respond, continuing to study the French painting that is plastered on the ceiling of the elevator.

“Are you excited to go?,” he questions, resulting in you shrugging,” I don't care too much about him. Nothing against him, but you know, not really my taste.”

Silence settles between you for a moment, punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the intercom and the faint hum of the elevator's mechanisms.

"So, what brings you to the concert if you're not a fan?" he asks, curiosity evident in his voice.

You offer a half-smile, considering your response. "Honestly, I'm just here for my friends. Stacey and Rosalina are huge fans, and they practically begged me to come along. Figured it would be a fun night out, even if the music isn't really my thing."

He nods in understanding, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "Ah, the sacrifices we make for friendship," he muses, a hint of amusement coloring his tone. “Maybe after the concert you will be my fan.”

His unexpected comment catches you off guard, and you find yourself momentarily taken aback. With a furrowed brow, you glance down, your eyes widening and eyebrows raising in confusion. And there he stands, Central Cee himself, his presence suddenly filling the confined space of the elevator. His pearly white teeth glint in the dim light, a charming smile gracing his lips.

If your best friends were in your position, they probably would have passed out by now. But you? You simply let out a small laugh, shaking your head slightly. “Mmmmm I don't think so. Your music just isn't my type,” you reply, your tone casual yet resolute. You glance back up at the ceiling, your interest clearly elsewhere.

Central Cee seems momentarily taken aback by your nonchalant response. He had perhaps expected screams of excitement or frenzied fangirling – or perhaps even both. But your composed demeanor only serves to intrigue him further. He closes his lips, the smile still lingering on his face, his gaze lingering on you with newfound curiosity.

"Really now?" he questions, a playful glint in his eyes. "What exactly is your type, hmm?"

“Not you, so it doesn't matter,” you respond with a casual flick of your gaze, focusing on your nail as if it holds the answers to the universe. Impatience begins to creep into your movements, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the control panel, where you futilely press the buttons at random.

"Well, I would like to know," he persists, closing the distance between you with a deliberate step.

"It doesn't matter," you retort, your tone edged with determination.

"Yes, it does," he insists.

"No, it doesn't," you counter.

"Yes, it does."

"No, it do—" You cut yourself off mid-sentence, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. "Wait, why am I even going back and forth with you?" The question is more to yourself, but Central Cee decides to respond.

"Because you do like me."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I—" You catch yourself falling into the same cycle, causing him to chuckle.

"You know, you're cute when you get mad," he remarks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His words elicit a soft blush from you, prompting you to turn away and face the wall. "Leave me alone," you mumble.

"Awww, I'm sorry, love. Let me make it up to you," he responds cheekily.

"Make it up to me by getting this damn elevator to work," you grumble under your breath.

"If you can admit that I am your favorite artist, then I will make that happen," he confesses, catching you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, turning to face him. "How?"

He tilts his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Say it, and I will make it happen."

You exhale heavily, skepticism evident in your expression. "Why does it matter to you so much?" you question.

He shrugs, smiling. "Simply because."

You glare at him, his grin only widening in response. You decide to humor him, considering his celebrity status and the possibility of connections. "Fine. You are my favorite artist."

He raises his eyebrows, amused by your half-hearted admission. "I don't think that was sincere enough for me."

You let out another small breath.  Stepping closer to him, you meet his gaze head-on. "Oakley, you are my favorite artist. I love your music so much; you are so talented."

His demeanor softens, his eyes meeting yours with sincerity. Something about saying his real name seems to have an effect on him. Whether it's your beauty or simply the use of his name, it stirs something within him, making him feel... nice.

You find yourself studying his features, admiring the way his light tan skin complements the arch of his eyebrows and the depth of his chocolate eyes. His small smile draws your attention, and you instinctively take a step back, coughing lightly to dispel the tension.

"Uhm... okay, I said it. Now, do your magic."

"You're right," he responds, retrieving his phone from his pocket.

"YOU HAD A PHONE THIS ENTIRE TIME??" you exclaim, incredulous.

"Yes," he simply responds, unlocking his phone.

You sigh. "Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Who wouldn't want to be trapped in an elevator with a beautiful girl like you?"

You open your mouth to reply, but the fluttering sensation in your stomach leaves you speechless. Despite your indifference towards his music, you can't deny his charm.

For a few moments, you find yourself lost in thought, your gaze dropping to your shoes. His voice interrupts your reverie, causing you to lift your head.

"Damn. I don't have any service," he says, raising his arm in a futile attempt to get a signal.

You watch as Central Cee furrows his brow in frustration, tapping futilely at his phone screen in a desperate attempt to find a signal. Despite the annoyance of being stuck in an elevator, you can't help but feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him, a shared bond forged in the confines of this metal box.

As the seconds tick by, the silence between you grows heavier, the tension palpable in the air. You glance at Central Cee, taking in the way the dim light of the elevator accentuates the contours of his face, casting shadows that dance across his features. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, you can't deny the flutter of excitement that flits through your stomach at the sight of him.

"Anything yet?" you ask, breaking the silence with a voice that comes out softer than intended.

Central Cee shakes his head, his expression a mixture of frustration and resignation. "Nothing. It's like this elevator is in its own little world, cut off from the rest of the universe."

Central Cee chuckles softly, the sound echoing in the confined space. "and here I thought being a famous rapper would exempt me from getting stuck in elevators," he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smile, appreciating his attempt to inject a bit of humor into the situation. "Guess even celebrities aren't immune to elevator mishaps," you reply, your lips quivering in a half-smile.

He returns the smile, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "At least I'm stuck in here with someone interesting," he says, his tone laced with sincerity.

A blush rises to your cheeks at his compliment, and you quickly avert your gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his scrutiny. "Thanks," you mumble, "I guess you aren't so bad yourself.."

Central Cee's smile widens at your response, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment," he says, his tone teasing yet genuine.

You chuckle softly, feeling a sense of ease settle over you as the tension between you dissipates. "Consider it one," you reply, meeting his gaze with a shy smile.

As the moments pass, you find yourself drawn into conversation with Central Cee, the topics ranging from trivial matters to deeper discussions about life, dreams, and everything in between. Despite the unusual circumstances that brought you together, you can't help but feel a sense of connection with him, a feeling of understanding that goes beyond mere words.

Eventually, after what feels like an eternity but is likely only a few hours, the elevator lurches back to life with a groan of protest, the sudden movement catching you off guard. Central Cee reaches out a hand to steady you, his touch warm and reassuring against your skin.

"We're moving again," he says, a note of relief in his voice.

You nod, a sense of anticipation building within you as the elevator ascends towards the surface. “Finally,” you say, though a pang of reluctance tugs at your heart. Deep down, you wish the elevator would stay broken, prolonging the fleeting moments you've shared with him. In the brief interlude of confinement, you've come to appreciate not just Central Cee, but the person behind the persona, Oakley. As the elevator hums back to life, you resign yourself to the inevitable parting that awaits you both, returning to the separate paths your lives had veered from.

Central Cee begins to adjust his attire, meticulously covering his features with the ski mask and glasses, returning to his "disguise". “Don't worry," you assure him, offering a small smile, "I won't breathe a word of this to anyone. It'll be our little secret.” Before he can respond, the elevator doors glide open, ushering in a flood of light and fresh air. Eager to break free from the confines of the elevator, you step out quickly, wary of being trapped again.

“Hey,” Central Cee calls out to you, his voice laced with a hint of concern, “I’ll see you tomorrow,yeah?” A flicker of something indefinable passes between you, a silent understanding that transcends words. Though you yearn for a deeper connection, you suppress the urge, unsure of what you truly desire. With a small smile, you nod in acknowledgement, “Yeah.”

As you both walk away, your steps leading you in opposite directions, you can't help but feel a sense of resonance, a shared moment that binds you together in thought. Despite the divergence of your paths and the separation of your lives, in that fleeting instant, your minds are aligned, fixated on each other, entwined in a momentary bond that defies explanation.

#central cee #centralcee x female reader #central cee fanfic #centralcee imagines #central cee x y/n #central cee x reader #fanfic #imagines

[haet-sal]

Tatsächlich Liebe (Love, Actually)//jun x fem!reader (smut included)

Tags: cute single dad!boss!jun with a crush, mini-wen involved, office romance, shower sex, public sex, sort of cheating bc you have a sort-of-boyfriend, pining i suppose?, jun with a crush, went a little ANGSTY, Bestie!minghao

You’re the wide-eyed, clueless-but-on-top secretary to Wen Junhui, and it all starts, with one new year’s kiss… well, new year’s fuck.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

Warnings: y/n is incredibly seductive and more dominant and a bit of a fuckgirl, anxious Jun, cheating, Guanhang from nct is here as your very mean and distant bf

W.c.: 11k

~~~~~

You might not be very good at your job. And you realize this when you spill Jun’s coffee for the fifth time since you started working (6 months now). That was 0.8 coffees per month.

Times 2, and 3: You forgot to cap the coffee all the way right, after opening it because you FORGOT to ask for the sugar and you had to open it, put a packetful in, stir and cap it again, and Jun spills it on his shirt on his first attempt to drink it. Your penalty: Jun offers a tight lipped smile and caps it himself. “That’ll be all, thanks, Y/n.”

Time 1: you didn’t lay the cup right on his desk. It only spilled maybe 4 drops. Yay. That’s a win, in the book of Y/n. Penalty: nothing.

Time 4, the worst of them all: YOU SPILLED IT ON THE DOCUMENTS HE HAD ON HIS DESK. You don’t even know how, but the full fucking cup spilled. Penalty: “I got it, thanks,” Jun said (thanks for what? He lost documents and three quarters of his coffee) “could you print these again?”

Time 5: this time the coffee didn’t even make it onto his desk, you trip and spill it on yourself. To be fair, you were carrying the lunch orders of the others in your office, so it was a precarious situation.

“I’ll go get a new one!” you called out, since Jun was watching from behind the foggy, half translucent glass door of his office, where he could definitely see you from the way he was angled, but you only saw a part of his dark oakwood table.

There would be a line at the cafe, it was lunch time. But you were determined to make yourself important and cut in line, no matter what it took. “I WORK FOR THE BOSS” would be one thing you could say.

As you head back for the elevator, Jun’s head peeks out of the aforementioned glass door. “y/n,” he called—you like that he never called you like he was demanding your presence, like a rude guest you were waiting on, but rather… softly. Jun just had a softness to him. “Hey, actually, forget the coffee, if it’s not here—can you go get one of those donuts with sprinkles on it?”

“Pink,” came a very boyish little voice from behind the door.

“Pink, with sprinkles, like Homer Simpson eats.”

You walk back to the office, and open it wider, so the little boy could finally appear to you. “Hey, mini-Mr. Wen. Would you like to walk there with me, so you can pick what you’d like?” Jun was very paranoid, but also a very at-ease parent. Meaning: he did let his son go places without him, with other guardians, but also had a terrible anxiety that left him imagining all the worst scenarios until the boy was back in front of his eyes. And yet, you still asked, because you knew Jun was busy. He couldn’t be watching the kid right now.

Hao—that was his name, ‘inspired’ by his father’s love for his best friend, although Jun would say he lost a bet and that’s all it was—nodded, but he wasn’t walking on his feet: he immediately extended both arms out for you to carry him. “Alright, buddy! Let’s go!”

Jun managed a half-absentminded, half-grateful smile at you, mouthing his thanks. And then the door closed.

“Donuts,” Hao says quietly.

“Yes, donuts! We’re getting donuts, getting donuts…” you sang as you walked towards the elevator.

.

Today Jun’s aforementioned best friend and trades partner was in the office with him, because he wanted to come see his little namesake. As Minghao talked business and life with Jun, he saw how relaxed Jun usually was, rather than be the ball of anxiety he turned into whenever his son was somewhere in public not holding onto his own hand.

“You actually trust that intern,” Minghao drew his conclusions.

“She’s permanently employed!” Jun says with a smile. “Do you want me to text her and tell her to bring you a coffee?”

“Where’s yours?”

“She…” There was no way to sugarcoat this in a way that Minghao would feel sympathetic towards you. “Kinda spilled it.”

“... You permanently employed a secretary who couldn’t even bring you coffee.” Seeing Jun’s shocked eyes (how dare you bring that up, Minghao! He was probably thinking), Minghao continued: “didn’t she cause that delay with that shipping company because of her other-and-frequent mishaps, and you had to ask them to deliver the papers all over again? Why would you keep her after that?”

“I don’t know,” Jun says, pondering on his systems himself, “I’ve been through a lot of short-term interns, but I just employed her permanently because, I don’t know, it’s actually became a chore sifting through new secretaries, and she just feels right.”

Minghao cocked an eyebrow. Pushed his glasses up to his forehead. “Feels… right…” Jun did not return any ripostes to the accusations Minghao’s raised eyebrows were throwing. “But I’ve never seen you trust anybody with little Hao this much.”

“Y/n’s a natural around Hao,” Jun’s praise of you came lightly, and he broke into a smile. “Hao loves her.”

“Jun… just because she’s good with your kid doesn’t mean she’s good at her job.”

“Give her a chance!” Jun says with a nudge of his elbows. “She gets my order just right—I swear, no one gets the sugar-to-coffee ratio as right as she does.”

“Maybe because she’s the one delivering it. You know drinks taste sweeter when you like the person serving them.”

Jun groaned. “Hao…” Suddenly red in the cheeks, Jun brought his hands to cover his face, feigning that he was yawning or scratching his cheek or something. But Minghao saw through everything.

“All I’m saying is, I wonder if she really is good at her job—”

The door opened, and you and the Mini-Wen peeked through, with the little boy holding two cups of coffee. “I got your orders!” you say. “Well, Hao got them! I’ll keep watching him, if you want?”

“But I wanna sit on papa’s chair–!”

You grabbed the little boy gently. “Papa’s in a serious talk with uncle Hao, do you think we can hang out at my desk? I have games!”

Minghao shot a look at Jun, as the two of you walked back out of the office. He reached for the cup of coffee with ‘Xu’ written on its side, handing Jun the other. “Anyway,” he says, “back to our ‘serious discussion—” He took a sip of his drink, and suddenly looked completely apprehensive, like he wanted to spit it out.

But under the light of Jun’s alarmed gaze, Minghao slowly swallowed it, and then placed it back on the desk. “This is… this is not my order.”

“She just can’t tell between everybody’s orders,” Jun offered. “She’s still learning!”

Minghao took another sip. “I think this is oatmilk… I can sort of get behind it.”

.

.

.

Today was Christmas, which was why Hao was at the office: he was going to be picked up by his mom to go to her parents’ house, where he would spend the holidays. Jun and the mom never really interacted, or so says everyone at the office–you had never met her. Jun preferred that the handing away of the kid be done through third parties, from babysitters who would text as soon as she had come to take him away, through secretaries, or even through the office receptionist. Whatever it took to not see her.

You’re not good at your job. You’re clumsy, distracted, inadequate, and most of the time you gossiped away, or at least listened to all the gossip instead of concentrating on your job. What you’ve heard about the matrimony of Jun and his ex was: there wasn’t even a wedding. They got pregnant, they became engaged, apparently the wife got cold feet before the wedding and just decided she didn’t want to be a mother and a wife forever. She asked that one of her flings take her away to somewhere exclusive before the ceremony—someone says it was to the swiss alps, someone says they holed up at an air bnb just out of town—and never even showed up for the wedding planning and the ceremony had to be canceled.

As the story goes… her family had been glad, thinking Jun wasn’t the right person to get settled with. Back then he was handling the up-and-coming company, but they didn’t have faith in his line of work—they did, however, want their little grandson, and the custody battle turned ugly, which added to why Jun didn’t want to see his ex or hear anything about them. Ultimately he got full custody, as the mother didn’t even really want Hao.

Whenever you saw the almost-Mrs. Wen, she was incredibly cool, hiding behind oversized sunglasses. You’d have an actual sense of respect for her, if only her mere presence didn’t make her own son’s face fall like someone had taken his sweets from him.

But today she had her hair in bunches, and she impatiently took the little boy into her arms, and thanked you. “Tell your boss pick-up time’s 5 p.m. on the thirty-first,” she told you. “Or sooner, that’s fine too.”

As she walked away, you were in awe of how much she seemed like Jun’s type: sexy, but cute, and cool. She knew how to dress, for sure. You wrote down the pick-up time: 6 p.m., did she say? And tried to go back to work. You should clear his schedule on New Year’s Eve, but in the office it was still a work day, although the general consensus had decided to have a party in the office, going til midnight. You didn’t know if Jun wanted to stay, since usually he spent holidays with his son.

You see someone in flashy colors sashaying towards your desk, and erect your head, expectant.

“Heyyyyy!” It’s Arin, from the reception. “Guess what?” she says, bringing out the box she was hiding behind her back. “Look! You have a good boss.”

As you took the present and the card—where it was simply written ‘Merry Christmas, Y/n’ and nothing more, thank God because if you knew just how many drafts Jun went through—you leaned over the desk and into Jun’s office, where you saw a blur of his silhouette.

You unwrapped it messily, with as much expertise as you always have on the job, and out comes three bottles of perfume. You press the communications button to Junhui’s office. “I got the presents!”

“That’s great, you’re welcome.”

“Thank you, Jun!”

Minghao, in Jun’s office, watched as Jun got flustered, blinking the shock away. “You… you never call me that,” is what you hear over the speaker.

“Damn. When did he shop for these?” You press the button again. “When did you shop for these, Mr. Wen?! I’m meant to be doing your shopping!”

“Uh, just back in November!” The red light of the device wasn’t alight anymore, which meant the conversation was over. (Jun turned to Minghao in the office. “I may have done this in September, and also had a whole personal-shopper ensemble help me.”)

“So,” Arin says, sitting on your desk now, “you got your boss giving you gifts! What about that boyfriend of yours?”

“Guanhang?” Your expression turned a little sour. “He’s got a big family, so we went shopping for like, the six of them back in November, but he never got one for me? I figured he didn’t want to buy anything for me in front of me, but—oh, bye, Mr. Xu—” Jun and Minghao had come out of the office, as Jun parted from his best friend— “but I never woke up to presents. I mean, it’s only Christmas. I guess I can wait until he remembers?”

Arin grimaced. “Uh-uh. Today’s the deadline.”

“On Valentine’s day he just ate me out each night for the entire month and said that was his present,” you say quietly.

Arin laughed. She made a joke about cunnilingus or something or the other, which brings you to howl with laughter.

“I mean, it is a good gift, if only he didn’t pick the shortest month of the year to do it!” You’re about to go on about more of Guanhang’s antics when—

Jun’s shadow loomed over Arin’s figure, and sensing his presence, she moved over.

“Get back to work, please,” he told her. “Especially you, Y/n, your… work…” he fumbled over his words, before settling with: “is inadequate. And careless. And messy. I… expect better.”

You pouted up at him. Jun looked away before it could affect him more than he liked. “Back to work, please,” he repeated, “And Arin, your job is at the desk, which is like, thirty feet away.” The glass door to his office half-slams, particularly loudly that it sounded like it would shatter.

“Must be in a bad mood,” Arin adjudged. With a sigh, she just left the remaining files and letters designated towards you and Jun at your desk. “Text me about the boyfriend things, alright?”

Feeling sort of shamed (you sucked at your job and you didn’t like being reminded of it), you silently go through the files, not even unpacking Jun’s perfumes out of their boxes. When Jun asks of Hao later, you just tell him he’ll be home on New Year’s Eve, omitting the part where he has to be picked up.

.

.

.

“Mei.” Jun pretended to multitask, going over his documents while on the phone, but in truth he was getting nothing done. What a shitty day to come into work. “Mei, please. Don’t do this to me. Please bring him back home, at least.”

“Jun, I’m not going to drive to your apartment, there’s traffic and I have an appointment with someone! I literally told your assistant the pick-up time—Pick. Up. I never said I’d bring him. Didn’t she tell you?” Jun felt like kicking himself, he looked out the blinds into the street, and yes, absolutely there is traffic. They’re closing up roads for the city’s new year’s party, fireworks inclusive. “How useless is that secretary?”

“Of course she told me!" He snaps defensively. "I’m just busy all of a sudden. Can’t your parents drive him?”

“Papa just had cornea surgery, Jun. Mama has to be with him at all times.”

Jun hits himself. “Fine, fine, can you leave Hao with your parents, then? Just go to your party—we’ll pick him up at home.”

“It’s not a party, it’s an appointment.” But Jun heard heels clinking, sighs, yelling to her parents, a car door opening. “Fine. I’ll hear from you on Easter or something, then.”

Jun immediately pressed the button to call your desk in, before the call even ended. Soon enough, you’re walking in, taller than he remembers you, but he distracts himself from looking at you (it wasn’t healthy for him to look at you, he gets heartburn). “Could you pick my son up?” he asked. “Take my car. After that I swear you can take the day off, just come back to bring my keys b—”

His eyes finally land on you, and there’s silver sequins peeking out from under the blazer. He leans over the table, trying to look at your footwear: heels that made you taller than Mingyu from sales. “Um… is that for the party?”

“I’m going clubbing!” you answered. “With my boyfriend.”

Jun looked away from you. The sequinned dress was low-necked, distractingly so. “Alright, well… Hao’s usual sitter will be home, so you can just ring the bell.”

“I know the code to your door, anyway,” you say. “See ya, Mr. Wen!”

.

.

.

The New Year’s party was starting, with the attending employees taking advantage of every resource in the office: speakers blaring music, the main lights dimmed and LED lights strewn across the walls so carelessly it looked like they were there by accident; everything was a total mess. There wasn’t a reason to stay there anymore if he wasn’t celebrating, but Jun couldn’t leave: he needed his car.

It’s almost ten when you come back, and as much as it was long-awaited, it even felt unreal that you’d come back.

“Y/n!” He didn’t realize how his anxiety had crept up on him, even when concerning you—he knew Hao was safe home, but you were his main concern. Sort of weird, that it’d be that way. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Bad news,” you say as you come into his office, basically screaming over the music, “I barely escaped when I came, but they’re blocking every street around here for the parade.”

Jun stood over his tiptoes to see the state of the roads: the parades were already setting in, and the roads were blocked everywhere. The only other option would be to wait it out, until it’s past midnight and everyone is back home in their beds.

He sighed. “I think I’ll have to stay until the end of the party.” He pulled out his phone, urgently texting the babysitter.

But Jun immediately turned into his usual anxious character, not being able to get home at his son’s bedtime. He paced around the party, sometimes paying attention to the music, although it was just grating for him at some point, and, not wanting to return home drunk, refused all booze and decided to chaperone the party.

He finds you at the hard liquor corner, during his many rounds around the office. You’re leaned back and sipping out of a full bottle. Jun hasn’t drunk in a while, because hangovers and being drunk in general made him unable to parent. He knows moderation looks different to everybody, but you weren’t it.

“... all I said was he spends a comically high amount of time with that girl from work! And he’s like, you’re always tailing after Jun, and I’m like, yeah, that’s my job? And then he says, I'm not his girlfriend, I just live with him, he can do whatever he wants.”

You take another mouthful out of the straight bottle. “What’d you say?” Arin edges you on.

“Told him that’s rich coming from the guy that was balls deep in my—”

Jun cringes with scrunched and avoidant eyes, as he comes over to take the bottle away from you. Setting it down on a desk behind him, he notices that the people around had started to clear out, not wanting a chaperoning boss to ruin the fun. They rushed to the windows and the balcony.

“I thought you were going clubbing on your night off?” he asks you, standing two feet planted in front of you. You were holding yourself really horribly, and ended up resting your head on his stomach without a thought in your head. If you had thought it through, maybe you wouldn't have done it.

“Fight,” you explained. “With the guy I live with.”

“I see…” Jun tenderly combed his fingers through your hair, but only used it to pull your head off his stomach. “Well, I guess office party’s just as fun, huh?”

You snorted as a reply.

“Last sixty seconds, guys!” someone yells. They’d opened the windows so the sounds of the parade in the street were full-blown blaring distantly, and you were about forty stories up in the air, the night breeze blowing with a vengeful cold.

You’re tired, your feet hurt and you just wanted to collapse into your bed. Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you fall face-flat into his stomach, again. Your arms wrapped around him, as if you were imagining him as a body pillow.

You feel Jun still, and you almost think he’s just uncomfortable being so close to you, but then you… realize something.

Mr. Wen likes you. It should have been obvious, whenever he seemed to forgive your inadequate work ethics and frequent unfailing mishaps, and how much he trusted you, no matter how many mistakes you made, how much he hated hearing about your life with your boyfriend… and what kind of boss goes shopping for their employee, privately, anyway?

You’re suddenly more awake than you were five seconds ago. You stand up, and there’s commotion—everyone’s crowding around the window, yelling the countdown as loud as their voices went. You look into Jun’s eyes. Sober, clean, worried.

“Do you think we can kiss, Mr. Wen?” you asked.

Jun stilled. Palms sweating, there was a moment where he swore his heart stopped, before he remembered how to breathe and regain all brain-control functions again. It might be what people call ‘skipping a beat’ meets ‘brain freeze’. “What?” he basically mumbled, unable to talk very loud, but you heard.

“We’re the only ones with no date,” you told him. “Everyone’s partnered up.” It was true, even people without dates had struck up deals for a new year’s kiss.

“It–it’s just not a good idea,” Jun stuttered.

“It’s a kiss for luck!” Every step you took towards him, Jun stepped back from you until his back hit a desk. Pouting, you add: “I want to have lots of luck next year.”

You must have had a lot of those schnapps and shots from the reception, Jun concludes, but too late: right after he takes the steps backwards, you had pulled him towards you by his tie. Hungry eyes, if he’d ever seen any. “Y/n,” he breathed out against your lips, which came close to him with every passing second, “we can’t.” You pull him in even closer, controlling him by the tie.

You do whatever the fuck you want when you’re drunk, Jun concludes. But it’s setting him into a full-blown panic. “Y–Y/n.”

The countdown starts, and you’re right—everyone’s gathered at the high-rise windows, looking at the parade under the office. No one’s looking back at you, and even if they were, they wouldn’t be able to tell who you were from the mere blue silhouettes of your bodies. At best, they’d just be able to see his white shirt. His entire body shrouded you.

Three!

You’re in every single part of Jun’s senses. He can smell you wearing the perfume he gave you, he can hear the low hum of your breath in his ears, he sees you, he sees the flimsy little dress with the spaghetti straps that keep dropping down to reveal more and more, he just…

Two!

He just has to taste you.

One!

He’s the one that takes the step to meet your lips, and now you’re kissing. You taste like soft cream and feel like good sleep. His tongue darts out, and you welcome it in your mouth.

Jun let out what he thinks is a sigh, but really was more of a moan, a sound that went unsuppressably past his throat and vibrated across your tongue. He thought you looked killer, the spaghetti straps of your dress would sometimes fall just a bit that he could see so much… flesh… from the side, but he won’t think about it, he won’t even look, he won’t be that pervert, the older guy that wants what he can’t have because you’re too shiny and spectacular and just the personification of a starry night, especially in this dress—and he can’t have you! He needed to get that through his head.

You had a boyfriend, you were literally about to go clubbing with him, you were taken, so what was he doing, what was he doing?

When he’s panting post-kiss, he doesn’t know if it’s the kissing making him breathless, or if it’s all his thoughts tiring him out.

“Wanna continue this?” you whispered to him, eyelashes hooding your expression. Jun doesn’t understand why you’d want to—yes, he wants to, but why do you—?

But he nods. He’s the one that grabs your hand, and walks over to his office, and you’re following him. Every time he told himself this was it and there’s no way you’d go further, you do. What the fuck.

The office is almost unrecognizable in the dark, with only the fireworks outside to light it up. You locked the door, and he realizes it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

You push him against the window, and for a second you looked over his shoulder at all the fireworks. He watches them reflect in your eyes, and the sight of you is just haunting.

And then you’re kissing him, his hands are on you again, this time peeling the spaghetti straps off, feeling your bare shoulders, just the feeling of your skin—he hadn’t been with anyone in a long, long time, too busy with his son or work, and to finally have this–with the person he’d been pining for so long…

He almost rips the dress off you, but restrains himself. Your lips feel soft and healing against his own, and then they’re on his neck. He doesn’t even stop you to tell you you can’t leave hickeys–it doesn’t even occur to him. His nose is just buried in your hair, as you trail kisses down his chest—when did you even undo the buttons?—and, when he messes with the straps of your dress again, it just drops to the floor at your feet.

He doesn’t even have the chance to take your form in, in just your strapless bra and panties. You’re rubbing him over his pants, and he’s hard, he wants it, yes, but he’s also dead sober and he couldn’t even stay drunk on you that long.

“Wait,” Jun says, holding up his hand, perhaps to keep some distance from you. “You’re drunk, we can’t go that far.”

With a lick of your lips, you’re undoing his belt and flinging it over your shoulder. When you can’t kiss him the way you wanted, you simply pull him by the tie so he’s on top of you, pinning you down on his desk. You want to kiss, you want his hands on you again, but he’s hesitant, only coming where you pull him.

“Y/n,” he gasped. “Y/n, please—this is a lawsuit.”

You giggled. “I’ll sign an NDA, if you want.”

Jun sighed, heavily breathing. “That’s not the problem.”

But he wants you, and if you want him now, there isn't a choice but to give in. Your naked legs wrap around his waist, and he just trails his hands down them, until they reach your heel-clad feet. It’s so hot, the way he’s allowed you to entrap him.

Jun is fervently kissing down your chest, your bra pulled down, as he enters you. He’s so hard, so bothered, and wet with precum. So hot it could sizzle. You throw your head back and let out a pornographic moan, but he cups his hand over your mouth, wordlessly reminding you that you were only a wall separated from a whole party of people.

Jun hadn’t been this way with anyone in a long time. There had been dates from time to time, but never with someone he actually truly liked. Trembling, his hips stutter, so does his lips, which are moaning your name. He tries to be as quiet and composed as he could, but he feels like he might let the loudest grunt, alerting everyone outside. He bites down on his lip.

He hadn’t been doing this in a while. This makes him impossibly sensitive, and he might release, even if it’s just too soon. You sense it in the stutter of his thrusts and immediately slip off him, and he’s glad, because he knows he can’t cum inside you, but also it was embarrassing to have to tell you. You kneel in front of him, open-mouthed, and he could spasm from the mere sight, before you take him in your hands.

Jun hisses sharply. “Do you see how it’s so white, you were so wet around me—” He interrupts himself with a sharp inhale.

But you’re going slowly, as if you were inexperienced with your tongue, or just wanted to drag the torture out for him. Jun’s hand grip at the table behind him.

“Please,” he moaned. “It hurts.” When he reaches out to touch you it’s fervent, hot. You’re the only thing in the world that could ease the pain and quench the thirst. His hands wrap around your hair, although to him it’s more like you hair had come alive and entangled themselves all over his digits. Your mouth feels so—fuck!

He’s cumming down your throat. Jun whimpered as the sensation of you never truly left him, you take care of him. Until the last of it spills onto the carpet. And he’s just watching you through his eyelashes, tired and giddy. He speaks your name.

You look up for a moment, before your gaze turns towards the door. Someone else was calling your name.

“It’s Arin,” you observe carefully. “You should count to like, three minutes before you come out, maybe more. I’ll go first, okay?”

He wondered if you’ve done these things before, as you strutted outside. The lights were back on outside in the hallway, and he shrouded himself in the shadows, feeling embarrassed but not ashamed.

When he exits the office later, locking the door behind him, there’s a man at your desk, figure defined by a dark puffer coat over a pastel hoodie. “Sorry I missed the kiss,” he was saying.

“I got kissed already,” you told him, avoiding eye-contact.

Guanhang didn’t believe you one bit, especially when you couldn’t meet him in the eye. “Yeah?” he says. “Who was it?”

“Arin,” you say plainly. Guanhang laughs. He grabs your hand.

“Wanna go watch the parade? I’ll put you on my shoulders and everything.” He looked past you, and sees Jun, and offers a tight-lipped smile. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your boss?”

“I don’t see why you’d need to, you’re just some guy I live with, right?”

You grabbed your handbag and strutted towards the elevator, but later Jun hears that Guanhang did put you on his shoulder to see the rest of the parade.

.

.

.

The second of January and business is back, you sit down at your desk after an uncomfortable subway ride and check a day’s worth of missed emails. When Jun comes to work, finally, you offer a smile, but don’t meet him in the eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, either.

“Good morning,” he basically grunted, clearing his throat. He knew it was impersonal, but he didn’t want to say your name, because whenever he spoke your name there was an embarrassing adoration in his voice.

“I’ll get you your coffee,” you told Jun.

You’re beating yourself up while waiting for the order, and you pull out your phone. These were words you couldn’t literally say to him, but on text you felt brave, hiding behind a screen. Not having to read his expressions.

You: hi, i just wanted to tell you…

It’s immediately read, although he doesn’t reply. He's waiting for you.

You: if you can just forget everything! It would be cool

You: what happened that night, I mean

You: I can’t be doing this, I have a boyfriend

Mr. Wen: we can do that.

Mr. Wen: i’m sorry, by the way

You: don’t be.

You: I liked it

Jun tries to forget.

.

.

A few days after New Year’s was Jun’s European business trip, and you were glad you wouldn’t have to see him after all. And yet, sitting at your desk two feet away from the office where it all happened made you feel weird. As all your drunk escapades make you feel.

He’d been gone since Monday, and was due back today, to land in the evening. But as you check in with him, you find out his flight’s been delayed.

“There’s engine issues,” he told you. “I don’t know, fingers crossed I make it in time before Hao’s bedtime.”

But an hour later he called you in a panic. “Y/n, fuck—what do I—I don’t even—” When you ask him to tell you, slowly, he tries to calm down. “The babysitter! I told them my flight’s delayed, and she can’t stay all night—I don’t think my plane will land until dawn. Now she’s mad I’m demanding too many hours, because she stayed all night on New Year’s, too…”

You cringed, thinking about New Year’s night.

“I don’t know what to do, can you go to my apartment? I already called Seungkwan, and then I tried Joshua, but—”

“Of course I’ll do it!” you interrupt. “You can’t call your friends, they’re busy men… I’ve got nothing going on, it’s fine. I’ll go.”

Jun sighed in relief. “You sure?”

You looked over at the make-shift dining room table in your apartment. Guanhang promised to be home for dinner, but he hadn’t come home at all. “Yeah,” you told him. “Just try to have a safe flight, okay?”

.

.

.

Hao’s crying, and the babysitter is panicking when you come into the apartment. You quickly explain the situation to her, and she’s soon excused, leaving you and the sobbing boy alone, but at least seeing you, who he associated with his dad, calmed him down a little.

“Your dad’s at the airport,” you explain to the little boy patiently. “You remember airports, right? You’ve been there with daddy?”

He pulls out a plane and asks if Jun is in a similar one, and you answer yes.

“But papa’s always here when I go to sleep,” Hao whined. “And I need someone to watch my back, so the monsters don’t creep up.”

“Do you want me to put you to sleep?” you asked. “Hey, why don’t we sleep in the master bedroom, huh? So you can surprise daddy when he’s home.”

Jun’s giant apartment actually had an office and three bedrooms, but the master bedroom was his, the other was Hao’s—with a little kid-sized bed—and he turned the third bedroom into a playroom, so guests were never expected. You decided once you put Hao to bed, you would go sleep on the couch in the living room, wake up and go home once Jun’s home, you get a day off, anyway.

.

.

.

Jun took a taxi back home. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours. He’d been microdosing on first-class flight champagne all night, and it only made him feel sleepy and unsharp. Plus, he’d been up for an entire day.

He’s stumbling into his apartment, not even taking his shoes off—if he sat down to do it, he’d fall asleep immediately—and only takes them off when he’s in his bedroom. He hears Hao’s little breaths and sniffles, and concludes he’s in his bed.

But when he turns to finally look, you’re there, too, lying on the blankets, not under them. You must have fallen asleep putting Hao to sleep…

Jun tucks you into bed, intending to keep you and Hao there and sleep in the living room, but he can’t deny the welcoming pliability of his bed, so he would just rest his head, on the familiar navy pillows, just a blink, just to shut his eyes…

.

When you wake up, it's because there’s something in your hand. You blink the sleep out of your eyes, to see that you were holding onto Jun’s hand, held over his sleeping son’s chest.

You flinch away, and with the rustle of the bedsheets, he’s awake.

You’d been sleeping, forehead to forehead and holding hands over the sleeping boy, like you were a family.

You murmur your apologies. He excuses you, and tells you you can keep sleeping for a bit, he’s going to take a shower anyway, he’ll make you and Hao breakfast and then you could leave.

You’re having this whole conversation still lying on the bed like a mom and dad, and he reached over, patting your head. Your hair’s messy, and still had clips in it, never having taken them off. He pets you as if you were something beloved—but you pulled away. Cleared your throat. “Um. You should go shower.”

He’s so tired he doesn’t even know what he’s doing, whole body running on autopilot until he wakes up watching the steam rise out of the showerhead. Jun lets the warm water rush all over his body, pitter-pattering over his closed eyelids and down his broad shoulder. He sighed. He’s travel-weary, and jetlagged, and everything sucked. And he was embarrassed, because of the way you had flinched away from his touch…

Suddenly he heard footsteps outside the bathroom, and despite the sounds of the water, he heard everything (damn you, expensive rich-people shower!).

“I was home until 10, and you’re the one that didn’t come home!” He realized you were screaming, and you were near the bathroom because you had to scream—it was the farthest from where Hao was sleeping, so a blindspot.

“Heng, I had work!”

“Don’t give me that work bullshit, how is there work at fucking midnight?!” Damn. He could hear it despite the call not being on speaker, and also through the sounds of the water. Guanhang could yell, for sure.

“There just was! I’m an assistant–I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry! I tried to call you last night—”

“Stop fucking calling me, then, fucking leave me alone!” You went quiet, which made Guanhang snap: “why aren’t you saying anything?!”

Jun hears you groan. He tries to tune it out, until at one point he can’t hear anything anymore. It must be over. Hao must still be asleep, although he bets not for long. Jun weighs his options, what he could make for breakfast for the three of you. He lets the warmth of the shower and the prospect of good food lull him into a another open-eyed nap.

Your whereabouts in the house were unknown to him, until he sees your figure enter the bathroom, through steam-mist shrouded silhouettes. He doesn’t say anything, letting you get ready on your own for the day—but you open the door to the shower.

Jun basically jumps back, but sees that now you’re in your tank top, the one you wore under your sweater, and… panties. His eyes don’t linger that long there.

“I wanted to shower, too,” you told him. He doesn’t say anything, half in shock, still tired. But he does watch everything, the way you peeled the pieces of clothing off of you so slowly, and then, under his gaze, felt strange and so cover your breasts with your arms. You look like a pin-up girl, which makes his brain chemistry go woah. You join him under the water, looking as if you didn’t even realize he was there, focused on wetting all of your hair, with closed eyes concentrated on the feeling of the water.

Can he touch you? Jun decided not to bet on it, and leaned back, watching you, dazed. He didn’t even understand what was happening.

You pull him in by the back of his hair, making him lean down to kiss you. As soon as that awkward seal broke, Jun’s on your skin, kissing your naked chest, trying to cover more ground than the water does. But you need his lips on your own, stat, so you yank his head up with a sharp, painful pull of his hair. He winces, but finds he likes the pain—like your coffee, everything you give him is sweet.

“This time you can cum inside of me,” you say raspily against his ears, which makes him feral, turning you around and pressing you up against the glass walls of the shower. He lets out a low growl, reminiscent of his days as a bachelor, before his ex, before Hao. He felt like he was just dripping in that youth again, being inside of you.

It doesn’t occur to him how weird it was. Why would you not even let him pat you on the head, but kiss him naked in the shower? Of course, he came to a conclusive construct in the end: Guanhang. Every time your own boyfriend disappointed you, you came to him.

.

.

The next morning, right before he set out to drive to work, came the text:

(2) New messages from Y/N

Forget about yesterday, please

I feel really bad. We shouldn’t have.

.

.

.

Jun would wait. Until Guanhang makes you feel unneeded again, he would wait. He didn’t see it as taking advantage of your sadness—in fact, it was a sadness mutualism. He was there for you when you felt down, and he… Well, he was always sad. You made it worse when you left, but when you were around it felt like heaven.

Guanhang spends nights out, and you wanted to limit your meetings with Jun to just that, but sometimes, you’d take his car to his apartment, fuck, and then he’d drop you off, right before Guanhang comes home from work or whatever he does. You never get caught—Guanhang doesn’t expect you back so quickly. There were nights you spent completely at his apartment, where you’d talk more than you’d fuck, and also play house with Hao, like a little family, and Jun’s never had that, that he begins to actually fool himself. He knows it’s insane, of course, but sometimes between sleepover nights and making you breakfast, he wishes you were Hao’s mom. He thought he’d given up on that a long time ago, but you made him revisit what it feels like to be young and in love.

At the office, you act naturally. You never even show half a glimmer of interest in him, you do your job. No one catches on. Your acting was genuinely convincing, that he’d wonder if you even liked him at all, but once work is over and he’s driving you back, you’re all over him.

He knows, of course, that it all depended on Guanhang, agonizingly so—you only paid attention to Jun when Guanhang wasn’t paying attention to you. And sometimes Jun gave you presents here and there, shopping trips and premium subscriptions—and one time you wanted to give Guanhang a video game as a present, so you siphoned off Jun’s money for that. He knows it’s wrong, you’re stringing him along, but sometimes he knew no better. He chose to know no better.

“She’s just a user,” Minghao told Jun when he finally admitted to it. “If she only comes to you when her boyfriend has off-days, I’m sorry, she’s a user. Nothing more to it.”

Jun knew you didn’t love him, of course, but it’s hard to imagine you completely indifferent to him. You were nice when you’re together.

“Either way,” Minghao says, “It’s a dangerous game. What if she extorts you?”

“She wouldn’t!”

“She has a boyfriend, what if he finds out and blackmails you?!”

Jun admitted to the possibility, but told Minghao not to worry. He was willing to go down for you, although he didn’t dare admit it to his friends.

But Jun let you in every time you knocked, until you became as familiar to him as the back of his hand.

.

.

.

“I’m taking Tuesday afternoon off,” Jun says as he lazily thrusts into you, “We’re trying to get Hao into one of those high-end nursery schools, next year.” He moved in you, and it’s tight and wet, but for you it just feels full, with no movement. You feel a little crazy.

If you weren’t trying so hard to cum, maybe you could have made a joke about how high-end nursery schools can be. But you just nod, peeking at him through scrunched eyes. “Uh-huh!” you squeaked. He’s moving again, and you throw your head back and moan.

“I think I’ll need you there,” Jun says. “I mean, I’ll need to look important and be hands-on, it’s nice to have an assistant there.”

You shiver around his cock, he’s moving but only minimally, and you need the full violent, bottom-out-and-thrusting-in action. You whine.

“Y/n? Are you getting this? I’ll meet you at the office, alright?”

You simply groan, pushing him back and trying to find… whatever was the pussy equivalent of ‘footing’. You try to gain leverage on the desk behind you and bounce, fucking yourself on his cock, and it’s still not enough.

Jun laughs. You are not getting it. You’re basically going feral from the withheld orgasm. Giving you what you wanted, he goes faster, and you nearly scream, gripping onto his white oxford in bunches, lewdly bouncing on his cock. “Want me to touch you?” he questioned, and you nod vehemently. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

.

There must be like 20 kids running around at this party. (“oh my god, triplets!” you whispered to Jun as you first stepped into the garden) Hao’s shy, and wants his father to carry him, preferably back into the car, but Jun refuses, making him walk. He doesn’t cry to protest, which is what you love so much about Hao. “Go play with Hoon,” Jun suggests, dropping to his knees to talk to his son. He pointed the familiar little face out. “Go on, make new friends!”

“He’s a bit like you,” you told Jun as Hao wandered off into the playpens.

Jun turned to you, curious. “How so?”

“He’s shy, but… he makes it work.” You’re back on your phone again, double-checking your boss’s schedule, checking all mail, confirming meeting times and topics. Jun waits for you on a bench until he couldn’t anymore.

He snatches the phone from you. “Work later,” he says. “I’m just like Hao, and I need you to be tailing me at all times so I can have a sense of security.”

“A false sense of security,” you say. “Wait, security from what?”

“The parents’ committee…”

So you’re the one that meets the fear-striking bunch of parents, rich trust fund kids breeding more trust fund kids, whose only purpose was to take care of their children. They might be problematically prideful and impossibly picky, but they made up for it by having an overly welcome demeanor. The triplets’ mother led the committee and also the waitlist to the nursery school, and as you pointed Hao out to her, she gushed over how cute the little guy was. Jun stands demurely behind you, not even accepting the compliment himself.

“He really is a sweet boy,” says the woman, “well it’s no wonder, when his parents are so cute!”

Jun looked at you, wanting to cut in, but he never speaks soon enough, and you’re the one that goes: “thank you!” with a grin. He doesn’t say anything anymore after that.

It’s winter, and when the party’s over the sun had set. Hao’s extra tired, from climbing up walls and running around with the other kids. When you look back at him, a few minutes after having strapped him into his little child seat, he’s out like a light. “He’s kaputt,” you informed Jun.

“Yeah?” He smiled. “Good… hey, I mean, when they thought you were his mom—”

“I hope you don’t mind!” you say. “I just… didn’t want to go through the whole I’m-actually-his-assitant and then they ask where the mom is and then the whole divorce story…”

“I’m actually grateful.” Jun’s lips are tightened but upturned in a little :] smile. “I… never like talking about his mom.” You nodded. After a few minutes of silence, he goes: “well, I mean, if they ask next time where his mom is, and you’re not there…”

“Of course I’ll be there!” you put a hand over his thigh, and squeeze. “Maybe you can keep saying that, I’m gonna be with you guys for a while, aren’t I?”

.

Jun’s the one that carries his son out of the car and into the apartment, and you follow him upstairs—he promised to make you dinner. As you get into the elevator, you text Guanhang you’ll be eating somewhere else, if he cares.

Guanhang: Where? Maybe I can join you

You: just somewhere with the girls from the office :) girls’ night?

You look up from your phone as little Hao wakes up, cheeks puffy against Jun’s shoulder. “Y/n,” he says sleepily.

“Hey, little guy. We’re home.”

“You’re home,” Hao says with a yawn, and maybe he just said it because he was half-asleep, but you stop in your tracks. You realize you’d been spending more time at your boss’s house than you do in Guanhang’s apartment.

You ran Hao a bath, and you and Jun bathed the little guy together, complete with bathbombs and bath toys. There’s sand from the garden everywhere in his scalp, which you patiently wash off.

“I want Y/n to be my mommy,” Hao says as you gently wet his hair, occasionally dunking him, which he’s patient to.

You let out a laugh, it was just awkward and you didn’t know what to say, how to parent.

You’re not the parent though, and Jun took the little boy into his arms, growing sterner. “Hey, you don’t say things like that, okay?”

“Why not?” the little boy pondered.

“Well, because she’s still young and she might not like—I mean, son, listen, motherhood—I mean, it’s just—you’re cute, don’t worry, you’re the cutest thing ever, but—you can’t just say that to everybody you like!”

“I don’t say it about everybody,” Hao says. “I just say it about y/n!”

You offer a tight-lipped smile, and Hao’s still not done: “I looove y/n. I like her more than mama. Mama’s mama, and Y/n is mommy!”

“I didn’t teach him that,” Jun says quietly. “I swear, I did not teach him that.”

.

Later when he sends you home, he’s still apologizing profusely. And then, he lights up with a smile. “It’s good he likes you, isn’t it?”

You shrugged. “I mean… yeah. I like that Hao likes me, it’s part of my job.”

.

.

.

Jun presented a little promise ring, a silver band encrusted with diamonds. Minghao sighs. “You cannot be…”

“It’s for Y/n!”

“I thought she wanted no strings attached?” probed Minghao.

Jun frowned, thinking deeply about it. “But…” he sounded as innocent as his own son as he said it, “we’ve come far enough that we can define our relationship. You don’t know what she told me.”

“What?”

“She said, she’ll be here with me and Hao. For a long time.”

“Jun,” Minghao says, sighing, “don’t… don’t do this to yourself or little Hao. Don’t play with someone that obviously doesn’t care about your feelings.”

“I don’t know, Minghao,” Jun sighed. “I think this might be it. I feel like she could… be in my life. Permanently.”

“She’s a user!” Minghao pointed out. “If she comes to you whenever her boyfriend lets her down, and takes advantage of you and your money because you’re needy with a kid, she’s a bad person.”

“She’s never asked for anything from me,” Jun says sadly. “I think you’re wrong.”

“She never denies your gifts, either.”

“Why would she refuse something I’ve already bought her?”

Minghao groans, head in his hands, his friend was not getting it—he’s just not getting it! “Listen,” he told Jun, “you are not asking someone that flaky for a real relationship. You won’t like what you get.”

“Why—”

“She’s still living with a guy!”

“You’re right,” Jun says. He sinks back down into his chair. “I’ll just ask her to move out, first.”

Minghao throws his hands up in the air and lets out the most strangled groan he’s ever made his entire life.

.

Jun can’t pop the question. It’s hard to just ask someone about their lovelife, even someone he considers to be as close as you. Of course he, with his small circle and busy life, thought you were close, and you knew everything about his life, but did you consider the same of him? He didn’t even know so much about you.

Plus, you never talk about your feelings. The only time you’d ever come close to that were the times where you talked about Guanhang, times when he eavesdropped, just to know what it’s like to be someone you loved, except it wasn’t him, and he could never imagine it being him.

So he thinks that’s where he should start: Guanhang. If you loved him, then you must hang onto him, and if he gets a straight answer about it then he’ll stop the pining. Plus, it would mean he has no chance.

He picked an evening where you were in your feelings. The sky’s a certain shade of blue, from all the citylights polluting the darkness, and it would never dim; you rolled down your side window and stared out, sometimes enjoying the velocity breeze but he just kept getting stuck in traffic, so the car was often still. “Y/n,” he says quietly, voice almost blending in with sounds of the city, “how’s Guanhang?”

“Oh, you mean the guy I live with?” you snort. You rolled your window up so you could hear him better. “He’s fine. Now that he’s taken up a second job we have less time to fight.”

“Do you love him?”

You gasp. “What?”

“Do you even believe in love?” Jun wondered. “I feel like you don’t really act that way.”

“I didn’t use to,” you answered honestly. You sounded so wise to him, he’d never heard you this way before. “But… one day, you know, Guanhang works at a studio, and I listened to one of the stuff he produced—there were like, 30 guys singing on a backtrack, but I knew immediately when his voice was in it. I could just recognize it.”

Jun’s heart clenched in his chest, and if he weren’t driving he’d double over. He hadn’t had his heart broken in so long… not since his broken engagement.

“And,” you say, “one night, Guanhang ‘borrowed’ his friend’s car and we went out of the city, to stargaze. We just had the radio to listen to, so we spent the entire ride driving past the suburbs screaming the lyrics to every song we knew. It was like a competition—and then, at one point, I stopped screaming. I just listened to him. I realized then that’s what love is? If that makes sense? Love is shutting up while you’re singing in the car because you want to hear their voice. And that’s the day I said it. ‘I love you.’ I’ve never said it to anybody before in my life.”

You looked over at Jun. “But now he’s just some guy I live with.”

Well, that wasn’t a straight answer. But he knew he could never ask you now. Guanhang was someone you’d always want to hang onto. With his ex, it had been black-and-white, she didn’t want him and he gave up. But Guanhang was always going to string you along, and he… knew he couldn’t compete. He’d never felt good enough for love, ever since his ex and the wedding debacle.

.

.

There’s a letter of resignation on his desk, a few days after that night. You had been growing cold towards him, nights where you slept over grew seldom and seldom until you just stopped. But you give him his coffee every day still, perfectly, even, without spillage, and it always tastes just as sweet, as sweet as only you could make it.

So it’s a shock to him as he read the letter, right in front of your eyes. “Why?” he demanded. He got so fired up he started speaking mandarin. “Wèishéme?!”

“I just…” you say, blinking tears away, “I just can’t do this anymore, and seeing you every day at work like we aren’t something is just...”

“Is it Guanhang?” he demanded.

“No,” you say. “No, I just… I just want positions I deserve. And I feel like I got here because… you liked me.”

“You’re here because I like the way you work,” Jun insisted. You don’t believe him. “No, I—I had this assistant that would color-code everything with custom stickers, but they were all pastel and I basically turned colorblind trying to read them, I had another guy assistant that kept asking questions and making me confirm everything myself, I had this other intern, right before you, that took pictures of me and Hao because he wanted to put it on his blog—Y/n, you’re great. I like that you don’t overcomplicate your systems, you sometimes spill things and trip and fall, but I don’t mind. It’s small flaws I never even saw—I didn’t hire you because of some… sexual ulterior motive. I like you. I like the way you work first, and then I just… fell for the rest of you.”

You looked conflicted, you watch him through your eyelashes. “I want to transfer,” you say, resolute but soft enough. “To Mr. Choi’s company—you know I’m more into that line of work, it’s what I studied. I just think a position there might be better.”

Jun tries to convince you to stay, but he was never a believer in his own self.

You leave, two months later, after treating him just like a stranger whose schedule was the only thing you knew about him.

.

.

.

Jun still has the promise ring, and it’s always somewhere in his pocket, although he hopes that one day he could just lose it, more or less accidentally, but the little velvet box always stayed somewhere in the pockets of his coats or trousers. He didn’t even know why it mattered to him, it’s not like you’d even touched it in your entire life. And yet… when he holds it in his hands, it feels to him like that sweet daydream that never became reality—he never got to touch it, but still, it’s so vivid.

Hao keeps asking why you’re not around, and Jun never knows how to answer. He explains the concept of resignation to the little boy, patiently, and Hao sort of begins to get it.

“So Y/n’s somewhere? In this city? And we just can’t see her?”

It’s supposed to be spring, but the wind still blows harsh and northern like the middle of winter, and it reminds him of you, because all the months you’d worked for him were so cold. He remembers you in your little trenchcoats and woolen things, trying to text with a smart glove on…

“Do you want to see her?” Jun asked Hao. “Maybe we just pay a little visit, for the last time?”

So him and his son are parked in front of the complex he always dropped you off, and he presses the bell for 3A, which you shared with Guanhang. When it buzzes in, Jun takes the little boy on his shoulders.

Guanhang’s waiting at the door, not knowing what he’s being visited for. “We just wanted to see Y/n,” Jun says, awkward because that was his rival he was talking to. “The little guy missed him, is it okay if he—”

“Y/n moved out,” Guanhang says plainly. “A month ago.”

But that was when you resigned. “Do you—know where?”

“That receptionist friend she had,” Guanhang says. “Moved in with her. I don’t fucking know. Don’t look at me like that, I tried to make her stay, too.” The door slams.

Jun calls the personnel office in his car with the engine on, as Hao swings his little legs on the seat. This was a revelation to him—you ended it with Guanhang, and even with him, and everything’s just so clear to Jun, now: you wanted things you deserved. You were starting over. You wanted to work for things yourself. He just wanted you back in his life, he wasn’t bad for you, he would prove it.

The phone comes through. “Hey! Good evening, it’s Jun—I just need to know where Choi Arin lives.”

“For something good, like a bonus, I hope,” replies the man working at the office.

.

Arin lives in another complex, closer to work this time. The apartment was on the third floor, and Jun climbed the stairs with Hao on his shoulders, once again, only for Arin to come out and tell him you didn’t live there anymore.

“It was just temporary,” she said. “She wanted a real place she could rent—I think Mr. Jo from security hooked her up with a free space in his flat.”

.

“Hey, Jun again… could you give me the address of Jo from security?”

.

.

.

He doesn’t know which floor you lived on, or even which side of the terrace. He tries door after door, and nice ladies here and there wanted to accompany him for the rest of the search. Then another man wants to see it through, too, and Jun entrusts that his son was grabbing the tail of his coat at all times, following him.

He’s gathered a bunch of people following him when he arrives at the new side of the terrance. He almost loses the motivation to go around asking a whole neighborhood if they knew you, when…

He could hear music, faintly coming from a ground-floor window. He followed it, knowing the melody well—you would hum it all the time, it was your favorite.

He knocks on the door it leads him to.

You come out with a bowed head, and you’re more beautiful than he remembers, although you looked even more tired. If you were living here but working at Seungcheol’s company, you must be waking up so early just to make it there at 9 a.m. Jun reaches out to touch you, as if he had been fooled and you’re just a mirage.

“Y/n!”

You extend your arms to the little boy, and he climbs up. Your laughter is light. “Hao! What are you guys—Jun? What is this?”

He doesn’t know how to start this. He fumbled around with the pockets of his paddington coat, and there were just too many pockets. After going through each of six pockets twice and coming up with just stray used tissues and car keys, he checks his pants, and there it was. He pulls out the little velvet box; a bunch of people gasp. You just mumble, “he wouldn’t.” But you don’t know if he would.

But there is a ring, although at closer inspection you notice it’s not for engagements. A simple promise ring, which you putt out to inspect, and ‘1.1. 00:00’ is engraved on the inside.

Your first kiss. You look up at him, and just when you’re about to speak, Mini-Wen wraps his arms around you. “Missed you, Y/n.”

“Y/n,” Jun starts, “I just—I—I wanted to ask you to be mine. But I was just—I was just afraid. I’ve had this phobia against relationships ever since Hao’s mom left me, and…” (the crowd ‘aww’ed) “I was afraid of getting close to someone again, if they might break my heart, and well, you did–you did, you left. But… I found out it doesn’t even matter. I’m happy to be loving you and getting my heart broken by you. I think you’ve got your fair share of broken hearts, too, but if you trust me—” you’re looking up at him with a brand new look in your eyes. He falters, splutters, as he always did when you look at him. “I can promise you I’ll always be here for you. I’ll keep your place for you, I’ll always protect you, I’ll—”

With Hao still in your arms, you step in and kiss Jun. For a second he forgets to close his eyes, and he just watches you, lips sinking into his. He knows exactly what he feels for you, except he’s just too scared to say what it is.

“Did my speech move you into kissing me?” He murmured against your lips.

“No, but there’s just too many people watching I felt the need to perform.”

Hao plants a kiss on your cheek, and suddenly you and Jun are kissing him back, on each cheek—Jun had imagined showing his son love with this, but it was only you that made it possible.

He brings you and Hao closer into him, warm and padded inside his coat.

“I think I was too preoccupied to tell you on New Year’s,” Jun says. “I hope you have a good year, Y/n.”

#jun x reader #jun scenarios #jun smut #jun angst #junhui x reader #junhui smut #junhui fic #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #jun imagines #junhui imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #jun fluff #junhui fluff #seventeen oneshot

[nicoline1998enilocin]

"Marry Me" || Part 1

PAIRING || Boyfriend!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Nurse!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || 4.1K

SUMMARY || Tony comes home from another gruesome mission and doesn't stay unharmed this time. As you take care of his wounds, he can't keep his thoughts to himself any longer, and he asks you to marry him in a way you never would have seen coming.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Canon divergence. Everybody lives AU. Age gap.

WARNINGS || Injured!Tony Stark. Administration of painkillers through a shot.

SMUT || Teasing. Daddy kink. Praise. Dirty talk. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!). Cream pie.

A/N || This story is dedicated to my best friend I could have ever wished for, @ccbsrmsf1. Carol, I cannot even begin to describe the gratefulness I feel for you and your friendship, because it’s not something that can be put into words. Thank you for being here for me through it all, eu te amo 💙

EVENTS Masterlist || @fandombingo || Sleepy morning sex Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || 'You make me feel like I am home again' Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Book Night || "I'm getting old." Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May || Reassuring touches

Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Maritime May || Don't make me laugh Masterlist || @fandom-free-bingo Wild || "I've got you." Masterlist || @seasonaldelightsbingo Language of flowers || The little spoon for the first time Masterlist || @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort || "Are you okay?"

GIF: @ccbsrmsf1 || Graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark Masterlist

It's been a week since you last saw your boyfriend - none other than Tony Stark himself - because he's been on a long and tiring mission to destroy the last few HYDRA bases that were left in Brazil. There has been little to no contact between you two, aside from the quick messages through JARVIS, the AI he built, to let you know he's still alive.

However, the message you received not even half an hour ago has you a little more worried than usual. During your many years as a nurse for SHIELD and Tony's private nurse, there's practically nothing you haven't lived through, but to know your boyfriend is hurt still sends shivers down your spine.

Tony has built a private exam room in his penthouse for moments like these, and you have treated many different wounds and injuries there. From ones obtained during missions to mishaps down in his lab, rarely a day goes by where something doesn't go wrong, but you love him for it. His clumsy nature is one of the things that attracted you to him in the first place.

Now, you're setting up the exam room after JARVIS's orders about Tony coming home soon and a brief description of his injuries, which you're thankful for. This means you're not going in blind as he arrives in your shared home.

When you put down the last instruments and bandages in the room, you hear the elevator door open, notifying you that Tony is back. As you walk out to greet him, your heart sinks into your stomach because the sight in front of you is one you will never get used to, no matter how many times you see it.

Tony is limping and heavily favoring his left leg over the right; he's clutching his arm to his ribs, and he's covered in countless little cuts and bruises, blood seemingly being everywhere. His clothes are torn, and his facial expression is a mix of both tiredness and sadness, but when he sees you, he instantly gets a shimmer in his eyes.

"Hi, Gorgeous," Tony whispers before wincing, his eyes shut tightly as a wave of undeniable pain shoots through his entire body.

"Hi, Beautiful," you say with a soft smile, right before herding him into the exam room so you can give him some painkillers. Tony carefully takes his place on the large exam table and sinks into it with a sigh, relief washing over him now that he's home and being taken care of.

As you walk around the room to prepare the last things for the examination, Tony can't stop looking at you. He admires seeing you in your element like this, and even though he's in a great deal of pain right now, he seems to forget it for just a moment now that he's in your presence again. He may not like anything related to the medical field, but he has learned to accept it since knowing you.

"How did the mission go?" you ask Tony in a calm, steady voice, your gaze focused on the cuts on his face while you clean them. Tony's lips curl into a small smile when you're this close to him. His deep, dark brown eyes follow every movement of your face, and he loves how the tip of your tongue pokes out when you're concentrating on something.

"There were some unforeseen difficulties, but overall, it went well. Got hit a few times, though, as you can tell," he says, and you chuckle at his words. That same chuckle has Tony's heart skipping a beat each time he hears the melodic sound falling from your lips.

"I'm glad you're safe now, though. I'm glad to have my man home again," you tell him, leaning in for a soft peck on his lips. As you pull away, Tony lets his head fall back against the table, a large smile on his lips and his mind going crazy. He's deeply in love with you, and having you call him 'your man' does things he can't explain.

Once his face is patched up, it's time to move on to his torso. But before you can do that, you'll have to remove his shirt, which causes a lot of groans and winces, but he knows it has to be done.

"It's okay, Beautiful. I've got you." Tony pushes for just one more moment until his shirt is off, and you gasp when it is as you look at the damage. A dark purple bruise covers most of his ribs and part of his chest and abdomen, and there are even more cuts and minor bruises littered over the rest of his torso.

"Oh my god," you say as you inspect it, and Tony looks at you apologetically, as if he wants to say sorry for being hurt like this.

"What happened?" you ask him, your brows furrowed in concern. He exhales shakily before telling you he got his ass kicked in some hand-to-hand combat when his suit didn't work. A lump forms in your throat as you try to treat him to the best of your abilities, but it's not easy when he has multiple broken ribs - they're the reason he was clutching his arm tightly against his chest and rib cage.

"Oh, you poor thing," you whisper as you look up at him, your hand cupping his cheek again.

"I think it's better if you take it easy for a while, Beautiful. I will give you a shot to help with the healing later, but this isn't going to go away with just that," you explain, and he nods. Deep inside, he's relieved to have to slow down a bit, as his life is fast-paced enough already. He's been wanting to spend more time with you at home, and this is the perfect way to do just that.

"I love you, Tony, but this is taking a big toll on you. I don't mind taking care of you and patching you up, but I also think that you should start thinking about retiring," you tell him, and even though it hurts to have to say to him, it's the right thing to do.

"I know, Gorgeous, and you're right. The fact that I'm getting old doesn't help my case either," he says with a sad smile as you take a seat on the edge of the exam table, grabbing his hand as you do.

"I'm not saying you should retire right away, but once you do, we might finally be able to start the family we've been dreaming of," you tell your boyfriend. He looks at you with such love and admiration as you say it; it's indescribable. The feeling swirling through your chests can't be put into words, but you both know you feel the same.

"Let's start now, Gorgeous. I don't care about being Iron Man or the Avengers; I want to start a family with you. I want to grow old with you. You are all I care about," he whispers, and you're fighting back tears at his admission. A soft 'okay' leaves your lips, and Tony squeezes your hand.

"But first, I have to finish patching you up, Beautiful. Otherwise, we're not going to be able to do anything without me having to do all the work," you joke, and Tony can't help but laugh, though as soon as he starts, he also stops as he winces in pain.

"Oh god, don't make me laugh, Gorgeous," Tony says with an amused smile. The two of you sit silently for a little while, and out of nowhere, you reach up to touch the tattoo on his chest, your name proudly shown on his skin forever.

Your fingers glide over it, and you look at it until Tony grabs your wrist carefully with his free hand, bringing your fingers to his lips and kissing them softly. More specifically, he kisses the place where he has been planning to put a ring for a few years now.

"I love you, Gorgeous. I'm the luckiest man on earth with you by my side," he whispers before bringing your digits to his mouth again and placing a lingering kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion into the one gesture.

"How're you feeling, Beautiful? Are you okay?" you ask Tony as you stand in the large shower in your shared home, the water cascading down on both of you as he holds you close to his body. Soft kisses and gentle touches are shared between you both as your back is against his chest, and your breathing patterns slowly sync up.

"Yeah, I'm doing much better with you in here with me," he tells you before kissing your temple softly. You smile at his words. Seeing his injuries, you offer to help him shower, and if there's one thing he never says no to, it's bringing you in there with him.

"I'm glad I can help you to feel better," you whisper as you turn around and wrap your arms around his waist. Your head is placed gently against his shoulder as your eyes slip shut, and you finally dare to sigh in relief. There's always a certain level of worry in your body as Tony is gone for missions, and you never dare to settle down until you know he's okay and safe with you.

"I can't stop thinking about starting a family with you," Tony tells you as he lets his hands wander over your hips and sides until they're splayed out over your belly, his thumbs rubbing the soft flesh as you smile into his touches.

"Having a few little ones running around with another one on the way, God, you'll be so beautiful when you're pregnant, Gorgeous," Tony says before pulling away, turning you around, and sinking to the ground, his face at the same level as your belly.

"I can already imagine the little feet kicking inside you as they're growing and how beautiful you will be as you have a pregnancy glow," Tony tells you as he rubs your belly softly with his cheek. Your hands carefully lace into his hair and rub softly, calming him down immensely.

"What would you like it to be? A boy or a girl?" you ask your boyfriend, who smiles at your question.

"Both." His answer is short and to the point, but he's already thought about it plenty of times. He's always dreamt of having at least one girl and one boy, but he will happily accept what the universe is willing to give you both.

"What about you, Gorgeous?" he says as he carefully looks up at you, his facial hair tickling your belly.

"Both," you say with a dopey smile, and Tony smiles before peppering your belly in kisses, making you laugh as his beard and mustache keep tickling you in your ticklish areas. Eventually, Tony gets up, pulling you against his chest, your head leaning against his shoulder once more while his hands rub over your back in a soothing pattern.

Before stepping into the shower, Tony has put on some background music, and you're both swaying back and forth to it as your boyfriend gathers the courage to ask you something important. Though he's been planning on making it a special moment, he also knows there won't be another moment more right than the one you're sharing now.

"Marry me."

At first, you're not sure you heard him correctly as you pull your head back. Your gaze meets his brown eyes, a large smile on his lips, and one of his brows quirked in excitement.

"Marry me, Gorgeous," he says again, and there's no denying it this time. Tony proposed to you, and a huge smile worked its way onto your face as tears fell down your cheeks. Out of all the moments he could have possibly chosen, you're not sure why he did it now, but it's perfect.

"Yes, I will marry you, Tony," you say before standing on your tiptoes and pulling him close. Your lips crash together as the excitement takes over your bodies. Tony's fingers dig into your sides as he's impossibly trying to pull you closer, even though there's no more space between you two.

"God, I can't believe you're going to become Mrs. Stark," he says with a breathy chuckle after pulling away for some much-needed air. Tony presses his forehead against yours as he tucks some wet strands of your hair behind your ear, your eyes focused only on each other.

"I can't wait to be Mrs. Stark," you tell him, a flurry of butterflies in your stomach going wild as you say the words aloud. Future Mrs. Stark indeed has a nice ring to it.

"I love you so much, Gorgeous. I'm so lucky to have you say yes to marrying me. I've been dreaming of it for months," Tony emphasizes before capturing your lips again, not wanting to be away from your plump, soft lips for too long.

His hands wander over your bare back down to the globes of your butt, where he lets them rest for a little while, despite the slightly awkward angle of his body due to your height difference. He's always been obsessed with your butt, constantly touching it when you're together or slapping it during sex.

"I love you too, Tony," you whisper in his ear before turning off the shower and getting ready to sleep. It's not that late in the evening yet, but Tony needs his sleep to heal, and you're getting tired, too.

It doesn't take long for you both to be curled up under the covers, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness. However, Tony asked you to be the big spoon so he could be the little spoon for the first time.

"How's this?" you ask Tony as you place soft kisses between his shoulder blades. You can't reach any higher due to your significant height difference.

"Good," Tony murmurs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as your fingers slowly lull him to sleep. They're tracing abstract patterns over his chest and around his arc reactor, and you can feel his breathing slowing down until it evens out.

"I love you, Beautiful," you whisper once Tony is asleep, and it doesn't take long for you to fall asleep. 

During the night, both you and your now fiancé slept like logs, and the shot you gave Tony yesterday has done an amazing job of healing him. Now, he's busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast for you while you're still curled under the warmth of the comforter of Tony's king-size bed.

Soft music plays in the kitchen while Tony scrambles a few eggs, and the smell of food brings a smile to Tony's face at the thought of surprising you with it later. While he prepares every last one of your favorite dishes, he's also preparing the tray to present to you later.

After working in the kitchen for another 30 minutes, the tray is adorned with a small bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase, the food he prepared, a steaming cup of tea, and a small, black ring box.

Now comes the real challenge for Tony—getting to the bedroom without dropping anything or scaring you. With careful steps, he makes his way over there, and much to his surprise, nothing spills or falls off, making him feel rather proud of himself.

The bedroom door is slightly ajar as he makes his way over, pushing it open further with his foot, before being greeted by you lying on your belly, the comforter halfway down your back, exposing your bare back to him, and he can't help but smile.

"G'morning, Sleepyhead," Tony says as you start waking up from the smell of fresh food. Tony is crouching next to the bed.

"How did you sleep, Gorgeous?" he asks as he wipes some hair out of your face to expose your beautiful smile and sleepy expression. His heart beats faster when he sees his future wife lying in his bed, smiling at him, and he has rarely felt this fortunate.

"Amazing, what about you?" you ask before sitting up and stretching out some of the sleep. That's when you notice the food Tony prepared. It's all there, from fresh waffles and scrambled eggs to fresh fruit and your favorite tea.

"I haven't slept this good in a long time; I think I should be the little spoon more often," Tony tells you as he gets up and reaches for something on the tray. Once his fingers are curled around it, you notice it's a small, velvety box, and your heart immediately starts to pump faster - an engagement ring.

While you look at your fiancé getting into position, you put your hand over your mouth in disbelief, as you didn't expect him to propose first thing in the morning, but here he is, going down on one knee.

"Gorgeous; from the moment I met you, I knew that your presence in my life would be one of immeasurable worth, and you have proven me more than right. From all the times you have patched me up after missions, and from all the nights we stayed up talking when one of us needed it most, they're all cherished deep within my heart," he starts, and you start tearing up as you listen to him propose.

"Before we got together, I didn't care if I lived or died, but when you asked me out on a date, I knew I had someone worth living for - someone who's worth fighting for. I knew I wanted to come home from the moment you moved in with me because you made me feel like I was home again."

You stretch out your hand, and Tony grabs it before squeezing it carefully. Soft sniffles escape as the words sink in with you. Your heart is going into overdrive, and the butterflies in your stomach are going wild, but it's more than worth it.

"Y/N Y/L/N, will you officially give me the honor of becoming the future Mrs. Stark and marrying me?" After flipping open the box, Tony asks, and you nod enthusiastically, a broken 'yes' leaving your lips before wrapping your arms around your fiancé.

He quickly sits down on the edge of the bed as you two let the tears flow freely, the breakfast he prepared long forgotten as you're basking in the glory of the moment. Tony has slipped the ring on your finger, and you can't stop looking at it from every angle.

"It's beautiful, Tony," you tell him while you look at the ring and slowly work on eating the breakfast he prepared. He constantly feeds you the fresh fruit and waffles while stealing a kiss between each bite, while he happily lets you feed some of the eggs and toast he prepared for himself, which goes paired with even more stolen kisses.

"I can't believe you went down on one knee for me first thing in the morning!" you tell him with a soft smack against his chest. He smiles before rubbing his nose against yours lovingly.

"I'm glad I did, though. I've been carrying that thing around for literal years at this point but never found the right moment. It turns out I just needed to have you take care of me for it to be the right moment," he says in a soft voice, and you feel the goosebumps rising on your neck.

"How about you let me take care of you for once?" Tony asks as he peppers a royal amount of kisses over your cheek and jaw, making you moan softly as his teeth graze over the edge of it, your nipples immediately pebbling at the feeling of it.

"Please," you whisper as you look into his eyes, lust visible in them. Before you know it, Tony has put the tray on the floor, and the comforter pulled off your body, revealing your entirely bare body to him. He gets comfortable between your legs after you've spread them, and his mouth descends on your neck and collarbone, sucking soft bruises into the skin.

Your fingers are laced in his hair as he takes his time marking you up, his hips rutting his cock against your soft, dripping pussy as he does. Soft moans tumble from your lips as you tug on his hair, and the feeling of his lips and tongue, together with his facial hair, is driving you insane as he takes his time.

"D-Daddy," you whine as his tip gets caught on your sensitive clit, and he smiles against your skin before lifting his head and meeting your gaze. Your eyes are already half-lidded, and your lip is raw from all the biting, but Tony has never seen a more beautiful sight.

"What is it, Sweet Mama? Are you gettin' a little impatient?" he asks teasingly, and you nod shyly.

"Want you inside me, Daddy," you tell him, and he's never been able to say no when you ask him so nicely. He reaches down to guide himself to your entrance; his gaze focused on your expression as he slides in his long, thick cock.

You spread your legs a little more to accommodate every last inch of him, and you both moan in unison as he bottoms out. You instantly clench down on his cock, and he kisses you softly as you get adjust to him being inside you again.

"You're taking me so well, Gorgeous. Você é uma garota tão boa," he whispers in your ear. Your cheeks heat up as you hear him calling you a good girl in Portuguese. Before you met Tony you spent a few years in Brazil, and you have taught him quite a bit of Portuguese for his mission, but you didn’t teach him that, but goosebumps crawl across your skin as you smile at his words.

After Tony called you that, you clench around him even harder, making Tony bury his face in your neck. In a bold moment, you surprise Tony by landing a loud, hard smack on his ass, and the jerk of his body only drives his cock even deeper into you.

"So tight, Babygirl, 's so fucking tight around my cock, can feel you milkin' me already," he groans, and he sets a slow pace once you're finally allowing him to move. Every inch of his thick, veiny cock feels like heaven as he takes his time, and you let your head sinks into the soft pillows as you look at your fiancé.

"I love you so much," he says as he lets his hand glide over your arm until he reaches the hand with the engagement ring on it. He brings the ring to his lips, placing a soft kiss on it. His eyes are locked onto yours as he does, and you feel the butterflies in your stomach go wild.

"I love you too, Tony," you say before pulling him down for a deep, passionate kiss. His fingers interlace with yours as he keeps building your high. The atmosphere in your bedroom is still cozy from the night, and with Tony's comfortable, slow pace, you can feel yourself almost slipping into a drowsy state.

"I want you to cum for me, Gorgeous, I'm so close to filling you up," Tony whispers as he noses along your jaw, and your back arches into him at the words, your senses on high alert as you're getting ready to fall over the edge. Out of nowhere, he also grabs your other hand, pinning them both above your head as he picks up the pace, chasing both your highs.

"God, keep milkin' me, Babygirl, milk Daddy's cock like a good fuckin' girl," he growls, and before you know it, you're both falling over the edge simultaneously. He keeps working you both through your orgasms, and when you're both finished, he pulls out before pulling you against his chest as he falls to the side.

You're both panting as you let your head rest on his chest, your fingers gliding over your name on his chest again.

"I would love to add even more names to your tattoo. I think it's also the perfect spot to add our children's names," you say dreamily as you think about having a few little ones running around in the future.

"I thought so too, Gorgeous," Tony says, and it's the last thing you know before letting your eyes slip shut, and sleep quickly takes over. The rest of the day, neither of you leaves the bed as you make love for hours, never getting enough of one another.

Today marks the first day of the rest of your lives together, and you can't wait to see what the future has in store for you both.

#fandombingo #fandom free bingo: book night #fandom free bingo: maritime may #fandom free bingo wild #seasonal delights bingo #sweetspicyhc #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fanfic #tony stark one shot #tony stark imagine #tony stark x female reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark angst #tony stark fluff #tony stark smut #iron man fanfiction #iron man fanfic #iron man one shot #iron man imagine #iron man x female reader #iron man x reader #iron man x y/n #iron man angst #iron man fluff #iron man smut

[pippytmi]

Your ennemies to lovers prompts make me think so much about kacy during S1. I appreciate all of your Kacy fics and love the emotions you manage to create with your writing. I was wondering if you would be interested in writing a story that combines prompt 4 and 6?

It is an unspoken rule that when the DIA is involved in a case, Lucy needs to be kept far, far away.

At least, that’s how Jesse rationalizes trying to keep Lucy away from DIA Officer Whistler. He cites repeated complaints to Tennant (undeserved ones), numerous whisper-shouting matches in the halls (all Whistler’s fault), and ending in the middle of tense stare-downs more often than not (obviously biased). So really, it’s a no-brainer that Lucy indignantly ignores Jesse’s pleas and makes it her mission to give as good as she gets.

“Good morning, DIA Officer Whistler,” Lucy tells her sweetly this morning, having been waiting outside the elevator just to catch the briefly-perplexed, then immediately-annoyed expression on Whistler’s face.

“Special Agent Tara,” Whistler says curtly. “I was told I would be speaking with Agent Boone today.”

“He’s busy,” Lucy says. “Small mishap with his car.” (She’d let the air out of his tires, actually, just in preparation for today).

Whistler’s expression does not waver. “I’ll speak with Special Agent Tennant, then,” she says.

“Or,” Lucy says, following as Whistler begins to stalk through the bullpen, “you can discuss the case with me. I haven’t actually been briefed on why you’re here, but if you give me two minutes…”

Whistler comes to an abrupt stop, and Lucy nearly knocks them both over; Whistler has to grip Lucy’s arm just to keep her from falling on her face, and when Lucy meets Whistler’s gaze, she sees—strangely—a kind of uncharacteristic apprehension that Whistler never has. Whistler drops Lucy’s arm like she has been burned, and her voice goes quiet when she says, 

“It really would make more sense to discuss clearance with your boss. It’s a time-sensitive matter.”

“Oh.” Lucy tries to hide her confusion, but it’s a halfhearted attempt at best; usually, the back-and-forth with Whistler is inevitable (and maybe even slightly thrilling). Whistler never just…gives up. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” Whistler says, already heading towards Jane’s office with renewed intensity. “Excuse me.”

Lucy is practically rooted in her spot, bewildered, and she watches as Tennant beckons Whistler inside before shutting the door. “Huh,” she says aloud. “Weird.”

“What’s weird?” Kai comes in carrying coffee, and he freezes in place as he, too, realizes what Lucy is looking at. “Damn. DIA’s here already? We haven’t even been briefed on the case yet.”

“Apparently it’s ‘time-sensitive’,” Lucy says, complete with air quotes and everything. “Think this means Whistler will actually give us something for once?”

“I’m not holding my breath,” Kai yawns, offering Lucy her cup before he wanders over to his desk. “Hey, where’s Jesse?”

(Lucy decides not to incriminate herself by answering that).

By the time Whistler and Jane emerge, both Kai and Lucy are pretending to be working and Jesse is just barely bursting through the doors. Jane doesn’t comment on either; instead, she waves her arms to get everyone together and begins her spiel about how they need to work with DIA and be a happy team or whatever. Honestly, Lucy is kind of tuning out the pep talk and is instead studying Whistler—everything about her body language screams discomfort, from the stiffness of her shoulders to the sharpness of her set mouth. And when she catches Lucy staring, all she does is quickly look away.

Weird.

Later, after they've been fully briefed and Jane dismisses them to do boring grunt work, Lucy tries to edge closer to Whistler and ask what exactly DIA needs to be here for. But when Whistler sees her coming, she makes a beeline towards Jesse instead, and Lucy is left frowning at their backs.

At first Lucy doesn't think too much of it. Jesse is probably handling the precious, redacted DIA files that point them to the possible suspects in this abduction case. But then, after Lucy is tasked with talking to their kidnapping victim's husband, she tries to be polite and ask Whistler if she wants to sit in. A gesture of goodwill, really, to make Whistler feel like she’s part of the investigation. 

“Hey Whistler, do you want to get in on this?” Lucy waves her case file enticingly when Whistler emerges from the break room. “We can do a good cop/bad cop routine. Obviously we know who's who in that scenario, but if you ask nicely I might consider flipping you for bad cop.”

Whistler blinks at her. “What?”

“I'm going to interview Sergeant Nguyen’s husband,” Lucy clarifies. “Want to help?”

“That's not in my job description,” Whistler says, brow crinkling in deeper confusion. “And I have to go talk to Tennant.”

“Again?” Lucy asks this question to the empty space where Whistler used to be. Except this time, Whistler is not being invited into Jane’s office. No, Whistler is just walking away, and pretending to get a call so she has an excuse to exit the hallway.

In an instant, Lucy is pissed off. Here she is, extending an olive branch, and Whistler is acting like she's too good for it. Fine—if Whistler wants to avoid her, then two can play at that game.

Ernie patiently listens to Lucy explain all of this once the interview with the Sergeant's husband gets them nothing. “So that’s why you're hiding in here,” he guesses. “Because Whistler doesn’t want to fight with you like usual.”

“I'm not hiding,” Lucy scoffs. “I actually came here to discuss…” She lamely grabs the top file on his desk, flipping it open to the first page. “Timothy Summers. Hm. Yeah, I think he's our guy.”

“Great,” Ernie says. “So an arrest is imminent, then?”

“Oh, definitely. That's why I'm here…with you…for our next move.”

“And how does the fact that he's been dead for six months fit into this?”

Lucy pauses. “You couldn’t have just told me that?”

“It’s literally underneath his picture. Deceased.” Ernie jabs at the file with his finger, and Lucy smacks him with it. “Ow! God, you’re mean when you fight with your girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” Lucy’s voice comes out several octaves higher than it should. “Why would you say that?”

“Uh, lots of reasons.” Ernie pops open a box of candy on his desk, offering Lucy a sympathetic red vine which she numbly accepts. “Everyone can see it. Honestly, I thought you two were going to start going at it on Kai’s desk the other day when Whistler broke the news that we were off the Dominguez case.”

Lucy’s jaw drops. “Because we were arguing?”

“Intensely arguing,” Ernie corrects. “Kai and I placed bets on who would kiss who first.”

“Are you serious? She hates me.” 

“Does she?” Ernie continues chewing on his red vine before whispering conspiringly, “Or does she secretly burn for you?”

Horrified, Lucy ditches the candy; surely, that must be the reason she suddenly feels sick to her stomach. “Forget it. I’m going to hide somewhere else.”

“So you are hiding. I knew it! Hey, can you—”

Whatever Ernie wants, Lucy doesn’t stick around to find out. She decides she’s going to find Kai instead, see if he has any actual leads in the case.

Except she ends up bumping into Whistler again. Full-on body contact this time, even—Whistler jerks backwards, Lucy tries to jump into the wall, and really it's a wonder it doesn't end in catastrophe.

“I'm sorry, I…” Whistler trails off when she sees Lucy. “Um, Tennant said I had to talk to Ernie about Sergeant Nguyen’s finances. Is he here?”

“Yeah, he's in there.” Lucy gestures vaguely over her shoulder. “The tech-nerd talk is all yours. I need to go talk to...other people. About things.”

Whistler nods awkwardly, still waiting, and Lucy belatedly steps out of the doorway in order to head back to the bullpen. Okay, so, Operation Avoid Whistler is officially off to a bad start.

But when she catches up to Kai, he has a much better idea of how to spend their time, and it also guarantees Lucy can avoid Whistler perfectly.

“Sergeant Nguyen was last seen at a Vietnamese restaurant two blocks from here,” Kai says. “Do you want to go check it out? Maybe we'll get something the police didn't.”

Lucy’s spirits are immediately lifted. “Yes. I could go for a banh mi,” she says dreamily. “Ooh, and some spring rolls.”

“I'm…pretty sure we're not allowed to order food from our suspects.”

“We don't know if they're our suspects,” Lucy reminds him. “And besides, spring rolls never kidnapped anyone.” She pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. “Give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

It ends up being closer to twenty minutes to update Jane on their next move, but Jane does give her blessing to investigate (and bring back lunch). Lucy has a pep in her step the entire way out to the parking lot, where…Whistler is standing.

Lucy notices her first; Whistler is facing the ocean, hand cupped above her forehead and frowning at something. She looks so serious—and out of place—that Lucy almost considers asking what’s wrong. Key word almost, because she is still on avoid-Kate-Whistler-mode, and she makes a mad dash to Kai’s car before Whistler can spot her.

Kai yelps when Lucy yanks the door open with, admittedly, a sense of urgency that is a tad unwarranted. “What—?”

“Drive, Kai,” Lucy demands, and he immediately starts up the engine, but he eyes her warily all the same.

(Unfortunately, Lucy makes eye contact with Whistler through the window as the car peels out of the lot, and she groans and sinks low in her seat.)

“What was that?” Kai ventures to ask. “Are you and Whistler fighting?”

“For once, no,” Lucy says. “She’s been avoiding me. So now I’m the one avoiding her.”

“Well did something happen?” The drive is quick, and before they know it, Kai is easing the car into a parking spot. “I know you two get…uh. Really passionate sometimes.”

“Because she hates me,” Lucy reiterates, feeling like a broken record at this point. “So I hate to break it to you, but you and Ernie are not going to collect on any bets related to kissing.”

Kai winces. “You know about that?”

“Yes, Kai, what the hell? I expect this from Ernie, but from you?”

“Any way I can make it up to you?” Kai asks weakly.

“Buy me lunch and we’ll talk,” Lucy says, and Kai—newfound meddler that he has proved to be—can at least follow instructions beautifully.

The restaurant turns out to be a dead-end case wise, but their menu is grand; they order too much food and bring enough lunch for everyone. (Even Whistler).

But when Lucy ever-so-casually mentions this, Jane just shrugs and says,

“I told her to stick around for you two, but she said she had to finalize some reports.”

“Wow,” Ernie says around a mouthful of noodles, “that’s dedication. Turning down free food just for work.” He pointedly raises his eyebrows at Lucy, who in turn tries very hard to glower at him with just her eyes.

“Good for her,” is all Lucy has to say about that. Jane gives her a curious look for the comment, but thankfully doesn’t ask.

“Hey, Lucy,” Ernie says suddenly. “I left my tea in the lair. Can you do me a favor and bring it to me?”

Lucy—still cradling her precious, half-eaten banh mi—has to do an actual double-take. “Why can’t you get it?”

“Because I have a cramp…in my leg…and you love me,” Ernie says. When Lucy stares back at him, unimpressed, he tries again with: “And I’ll owe you?”

“Fine,” Lucy sighs. “But you’re being so weird.” Suspiciously weird, even, but his scheming doesn’t click until Lucy is actually opening Ernie’s door and—“Oh.”

Whistler lifts her head at the intrusion, her stunned expression likely a mirror of Lucy’s. “Special Agent Tara,” she says.

“Whistler,” Lucy says slowly. “What are you doing in here?”

“Ernie said I could borrow his computer,” Whistler says. “DIA wants me here until we get a ransom demand, and I wanted to get some work done.”

“Ernie let you borrow his computer,” Lucy echoes. “Willingly?”

“Yes?” Whistler tilts her head questioningly. “Sorry, did you need something?”

Lucy knows she should be looking for Ernie’s tea. She also knows she should probably ask Whistler about it. But all that comes out is: “You know, we brought lunch for everyone.”

“Thank you, but I had lunch already.” Whistler glances back down at the computer screen, tapping away at its keys in a silent dismissal, and in an instant Lucy has had enough.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The mechanical typing falters. “I’m not.”

“You’re working with everyone else on my team but me,” Lucy says. “That kind of feels like you’re avoiding me.”

“Maybe I felt like getting actual work done for once.” Whistler looks up again, this time with a deep-set frown on her lips. “And I wasn’t in the mood to fight.”

“Hey, you’re the one who fights with me!”  Lucy argues. “Literally, from day one. You yelled at Jane about me in front of everyone.”

“Because you stole a sensitive report which you had no clearance for!”

“Actually, I read it upside down while you were talking about how I didn’t have clearance for it,” Lucy counters. “No stealing required.”

Whistler’s jaw clenches. “That is not any better.”

“But it means I’m not a thief. I’m just…you know, crafty,” Lucy says. “Come on, haven’t you ever bent the rules a little to break a case?”

“I don't break cases,” Whistler says flatly. “I protect intel.”

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she snaps, exasperated, “you’re a saint and a better person than I am. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Are you—what is your problem? That is not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?” Lucy lets the words hang between them in the ensuing silence. She doesn’t even realize that she has placed her hands on the desk in challenge—barely any space between them now—until Whistler is hastily standing up.

Even as tall as she is, Whistler’s voice comes out incredibly small. “Nothing,” she says finally. “Please forgive my…gross unprofessionalism. Clearly, I have overstayed my welcome.” She steps out from behind the desk without even bothering to close whatever she’d been working on, and Lucy sees red.

“Oh sure, just run away,” Lucy huffs. “Go ahead! Prove you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I haven’t been—”

“I’m sick of playing this game with you!” Lucy cuts her off.

Whistler doesn’t move an inch. “What game?” 

Dammit. Ernie is most definitely in her head. What the hell; it’s not like Lucy has anything to lose. “The game where we pretend we don't like each other,” she says firmly. “You’re an asshole and I like to piss you off, but obviously there is something else here and I’m not crazy. This is—”

Honestly, in the back of her mind, the most Lucy expects is more denial. At worst, she expects Whistler to march out of the room and report her to Jane again. She certainly does not anticipate Whistler yanking Lucy in to kiss her breathless—just for a brief, dizzying moment—before pulling away.

Whistler tries to apologize, but Lucy doesn’t let her; she is once again determined to give as good as she gets (in a very different context). Lucy pulls Whistler right back in, grasping desperately at her face and stretching as fall as the tips of her toes will allow. 

It seems to reassure Whistler in any case, who eagerly slides her hands along Lucy’s back and melts against her. Maybe it's the months of pent-up aggression between the two of them, or maybe it's the knowledge that Whistler is an actual human being, or maybe it's just the ghost of the faint touch of Whistler's fingertips underneath the hem of Lucy’s shirt, but the kiss gets really intense really fast.

Lucy debates sliding her own hand under Whistler's shirt—see if she is as serious in her bra choices as she is in pantsuits—but then Whistler flicks her tongue into Lucy’s mouth and she cannot possibly be expected to focus. It's intoxicating and exhilarating and…

“Wait, wait,” Lucy regretfully manages to twist away. “We can't do this.”

“Right,” Whistler says, nodding rapidly. “It would be a mistake.” She's clearly trying to school her features into her usual stoic demeanor, but her efforts are completely undermined by her kiss-swollen lips and the obvious flush on her cheeks.

“What? No, I meant, we can't do this here,” Lucy says. “You think it would be a mistake?”

“Not if…you don't,” Kate says, almost like a question.

“Are you seriously going to throw yourself at me but not even say what you feel out loud? I think you're addicted to fighting with me,” Lucy decides.

“I didn't throw myself at you, and—if anything, you're the one trying to fight with me!” Kate exclaims. “Every day I come in, and you're there trying to undermine me. I've been trying to keep my distance for both our sakes. Obviously our working dynamic is…less than ideal, most of the time.”

“I'm not trying to undermine you. I'm just trying to get you to loosen up a little maybe,” Lucy says. “Which…okay, might be annoying. So I get why you're an uptight asshole sometimes. No offense!”

Whistler frowns. “Some offense taken.”

“Oh, it's fine,” Lucy says. “The asshole thing is unfortunately very hot. Ernie may or may not have had a point.”

“What does Ernie have to do with this?” Whistler looks horrified now.

“Not like—Ernie and I don't sit around discussing how hot you are,” Lucy tries to save face. “He just suggested that we might…you know…jump each other at some point.”

“You're not making this any better.”

“Then forget Ernie,” Lucy says. “Take him out of the equation entirely. Do you also find me unfortunately hot?”

“I wouldn’t call it unfortunate,” Whistler says. “But. Yes?”

“Okay, so…” Lucy trails off. “What are we doing here, Whistler? Do you want to walk out of here and pretend this never happened?”

“No.” Whistler steps forward hesitantly. “That’s not what I want. I…I like you, Lucy. And I know this would completely ruin our working relationship, but—”

“Shut up about work,” Lucy says, dragging Whistler back in for another fervorous kiss, delighting in the fact that Whistler certainly isn’t fighting her now.

(Lucy’s phone buzzing, however, does effectively kill the mood.)

“What is that?” Whistler is instantly back into work mode, smoothing her hair haphazardly as if someone is about to walk in any second. “Is it about the case?”

Lucy unlocks her phone with bated breath. “Maybe we finally have a ransom call,” she says, before the familiar face in her text messages proves otherwise. “...nevermind, it’s just Ernie. He wants to know if we’ve ‘kissed and made up’. I’m going to tell him we’re going to have sex in his chair.”

Whistler half-coughs, half-chokes. “Are we?”

“Obviously not,” Lucy says. Then, thoughtfully: “But I’m technically still on lunch. Did you drive here?”

“Yeah, I have a company car,” Whistler says. “Do you have another lead?”

“No, but I do have thirty minutes to spare,” Lucy says cheerfully. “Get your keys. We’re totally going to have sex in your company car.”

Whistler turns very, very red. “I…don’t think my boss would like that.”

“Fine, then we can make out in your company car,” Lucy amends. “But you’re going to have to leave first. Kai and Ernie have a bet going about us, and I don’t want either of them to win.”

“Your team has a strange obsession with your love life,” Whistler tells her matter-of-factly.

“Eh, could be worse,” Lucy says. “Jane could get involved.”

Whistler—marginally disheveled—manages to crack a smile. “Let’s not let it get that far,” she suggests, brushing one final kiss against Lucy’s mouth with a resigned sigh. “So…are we keeping this between us for now?”

“I guess so,” Lucy says begrudgingly. “Think you can keep on fighting me in front of everyone?”

Whistler shrugs. “Are you going to keep being an asshole?”

“Wha—hey, no fair! You’re the asshole. I’m the good-meaning, happy-go-lucky agent who just wants to keep you human,” Lucy says, poking at Whistler’s cheek until her smile grows even more.

“Challenge accepted,” Whistler says, smoothly tucking a strand of hair behind Lucy’s cheek before casually making her exit. 

Lucy places her hands on her hips and wistfully watches her go. This day has gone absolutely nowhere she expected it to, but dammit, she can’t be mad.

(Especially when her phone buzzes again with another text from Ernie. All it says is: NOOOOOO 😭).

#this is essentially a re-imagining of s1 #where kate & lucy first met on the job and just hated each other from day one and ofc the tension is off the charts #kacy #kate x lucy #ncis hawaii #ty for the prompt!! these two in an enemies to lovers scenario 100% eats ngl #i need a fic tag

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo - Part SEVEN

Two Parts of the story in one day you guys really are lucky!! How is Y/n going to cope when one Vee is flirty, the other manipulative and the other wants to just help her get in a hot steamy shower ...

Trigger warning: a bit of violence

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen

Three heads all explode, one after the other. The only mishap was you were so very close to the splash zone. Groaning to yourself you wipe your cheek with your hand, covered in warm blood you grumble. Gross. Pulling out a pack of tissues from your dropped purse you quickly scrub where you saw had landed but there was no way of getting rid of all of it … biting your lip you decide to carry on walking to the Vee Tower. You did after all have an appointment.

-----

Pushing the door to enter The Vee Tower you ignore the receptionist who tried to make eye contact with you, jabbing the button to the elevator you scrunch your nose up as you notice the blood under your nails. Ew. Gross.

At the ding you climb into the elevator, focused on cleaning your nails and not noticing how the camera moved to focus on you. After a few moments you heard another ding, not paying attention to your surroundings as you noticed you got blood on your boots as well – jeez killing sinners was a messy business - you manage to walk directly into a certain Vee. And not the one you were meant to be meeting. A small squeak escaped your lips as you began to tumble backwards from recoiling however two large, gloved hands grasped your waist pulling you back up firmly against a red coat stopping your fall.

“Woah now Princessa, if you wanted to jump my bones you just had to say”, his mischievous tinted gaze lowered to your own. His mocking smile dropped a little when he registered the state you were in.  

Gripping your chin firmly with his fingers, not letting you move an inch but making sure your gaze  was solely on him: “what has happened?”  That playful tone to his voice was gone but instead was scarily low for him, a snarl lingering under every word. Trying to shake your head but due to his fingers you couldn’t do much, you raise your own hand to try pry his fingers off. Thwarted before you even had a chance to touch him, he clutched both your hands in his other pair holding them down by your waist. This was not fair! Please tell me you didn’t have to use your shriek more than once today?

“Why the fuck do you look like you’ve drowned yourself in blood, the fuck do I have to kill little one?” His mouth was pulled up in a sinister sneer, his gold tooth flashing while his fingers dug into your chin more making you wince.

“It doesn’t matter Valentino, honest” you try to convince the Moth Overlord, the way his fingers squeezed your hips at your answer you just knew he didn’t believe you. But his grip on your chin lessened and allowed you to pull away from it. Scrunching your face you try to ease the little bit of pain.

“It matters Princessa. So again, I ask. Who. Do. I. Have. To. Kill?” At each pause he squeezed either your hands or your waist, not enough to hurt but enough to make you gasp a little bit.

A blue clawed hand appeared in your vision, resting on Valentino’s arm. You both looked to your side to see Vox there with a concerned expression. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so glad to see the TV Demon.

“Now Val, how about you let our little songbird go and we sort this like civilised demons, yes?” A growl from Valentino made you believe he really didn’t want to have a civilised conversation.

“Not until I find out who the fuck has done this to her. Look at the state of her!” Why the hell did he care? He allowed your hands to go free but his two hands stayed locked on your waist.

“Yes, I can see y/n is looking at bit … er … out of sorts but I am sure there is a reasonable explanation as to why, right Y/n?” Nodding in agreement you try to smile convincingly up at Valentino but flinched when you moved your head too fast, the cut on your neck was stinging like a bitch.

“Before we get into all of that, I don’t suppose I could borrow a shower? I’d love to get this crap off me”, you ask motioning at your blood splattered body. Plus, it would give you extra time to think up an explanation on how you ‘killed’ the sinners.  Vox chuckled at your grossed out expression you go to move but couldn’t even make a step away from Valentino as he forced your attention back on him when he waved a gold enamel gun around in front of you both.

“Not before we get names!” He snarled. Seeing how Vox’s method wasn’t exactly working in calming him down you sighed under your breath. Guess it was down to you. Where on earth was Velvette?

Grabbing the waving hand that held the gun you pulled it so it was resting on your waist next to the other one. His tinted gaze now on yours, feeling the tension in his arms you smile softly up at the Overlord. Try to work your charm y/n.

“There’s no need for names, no need for shooting or killing any one as they’re already dead, okay Valentino?” You gently explain, tugging the gun out of his grasp and quickly pulling it behind your back. Cold fingers slipped it from your grasp, spying Vox putting the gun in his jacket pocket you breath a bit easier. The main threat sorted, now to calm the hot head down more.

“They are dead. How?” He demands, glaring at Vox who had taken a seat on one of the sofa’s dotted around Velvette’s studio. Probably grumpy that he had taken his favourite toy away.

“It doesn’t matter how, just know that they are dead”. You place your hands on his that were still on your hips, giving them a squeeze to try and drive your point home.

“It does matter I wan”-

“-Perhaps now that the threat is gone, Velvette can show Y/n where she can shower and get a change of clothes before we start to question her? Hmm?” Giving Valentino your best winning smile, he hums under his breath before nodding after a few moments. You thought you were free until he dragged you close by your hips - so much so that your chest brushed against the fur of his coat. He loomed over you with a flirty expression on his face. Oh dear.

“Are you in such a hurry to leave my arms Y/n? I just know you have been enjoying it, mi cariño, perhaps we can make this a regular thing?” Blushing at feeling a certain part of him that really enjoyed me being pressed up against him a bit too much, you chuckled nervously while pushing yourself away by using both of your hands against his chest. Even if you did which you totally did but wasn’t admitting the last person you would admit that too was the flirty Overlord.  

“Whatever keeps you happy slim, but right now the one thing I am craving more than anything is a hot shower, so if you’ll excuse me”, he finally allows you to escape from his grip. A smug smirk tugged at his lips as he pulled a long cigarette from inside his coat. You could still feel the hot imprints of his hands on your hips.

Vox stopped typing on his phone when he saw you were now free from the clingy Valentino, a charming smile once more on his face as he stands up.

“Now let’s get you cleaned up my dear, you know us Vee’s are known for our perfection, and we can’t have you destroying that reputation for us now, can we?” He joked – or you hoped he was joking but maybe there was a subtle threat under that charming voice – as he showed you back towards the elevator. Pressing the button, it arrives almost immediately. Huh. Weird. Stepping inside you didn’t expect Vox to follow you in. You certainly didn’t expect when the doors shut him to turn to you with a shit-eating grin. Like he knew something that you didn’t. And you really didn’t like that.

“So tell me, how did you kill the sinners, y/n?” The hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up. He knew. Licking your bottom lip nervously you shrugged.

“Ah with a – uh - with a knife” you wanted to look away from him, he was making you more and more nervous but his gaze had you locked in. Dammit!

“Liar” you started to sweat with that one word.  You should have been more careful! You should have checked around you before you used your power. But you didn’t think. You reacted. And now one of the main people you didn’t want to know about your power knew within a week of knowing you. How had you managed to keep it a secret from basically everyone else in Hell and this damn TV Demon found out within days? A blinking from the corner of the elevator made you seethe. He’d warned you. He told you he owned most of the cameras in Pentagram City.

These are the consequences of your own actions come to bite you in the ass.

“Hell’s full of them, what is one more?” you ask, trying to distract him from the conversation. At his unamused look you guessed that didn’t work. “Are you going to show anyone?” biting your lip nervously you could see numerous ideas working through his head, he now had something to hold over your head. What would he ask in exchange for your secret?

“Now y/n do you really think I would show anyone that footage?” His shit-eating grin pissed you off to no end.

“What is it you want in exchange Vox?” You wanted to cut the bullshit and see what the cards had in store for you.

“Your loyalty, to us Vee’s”, he leant against the side of the elevator eyeing you up. Your loyalty?

“My loyalty? What does that entail?”

His grin grew menacingly – his screen glitched red for a second as his eye started to warp again. Pushing yourself back against the other wall you glared up at him, ready to start shrieking again you both were surprised by the door opening and an aggravated Velvette snarling at you both.

“The fuck happened to you?” Thank Lucifer for Velvette! Pushing off against the wall you quickly made your way off the elevator to relative safety. You nearly made it till a cold hand clutched at your wrist as you were fully out of the elevator. Peeking at the TV Demon over your shoulder his expression was much more relaxed than a moment ago, but a mischievous glint danced in his eyes.

“Enjoy your shower, Y/n. We will see you after it, we have much to discuss” he crooned at you. Smirk growing when your gaze narrowed. Yanking your wrist out of his grip you stepped away. Winking as he disappeared when the elevator doors shut you released a nervous breath. Facing the other Overlord who was eyeing you up, displeased with what she was seeing she tutted at you.

“You gotta learn to step away when things go boom babe, blood is not kind to your clothes! Come on, lets get you cleaned up”, she slips her hand into yours pulling you through a living room and into a massive bathroom. Wait … she’s not gonna clean you right?

Tag List:

@tasha-1994  @azullynxx  @reath-solia @leathesimp @klorinda

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin vox #velvette x reader #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel vox x reader #Hazbin vox x valentino x velvette #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel imagine #Hazbin Hotel Fluff #vox x valentino #hazbin vox x valentino x velvette x reader #vox x valentino x velvette x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel the vees #valentino x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

[chantiepie]

MOTEL ROOM🩸/ MYG

Intro.

VampireYoongi X Reader

When I met you in that hotel room I could tell that you were so bad news

Sinopse: Your client for tonight awaits you in the room of a motel.

Genre: Horror/Darkromance.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, masturbation,blood, intimate conversations.

ko-fi ☕

18+

Words: 5k.

The elevator music was boring and repetitive as the floors passed by and the screen above your head indicated the current floor. It was your first time at that hotel, and despite its expensive and rustic appearance, it also felt strange, sober... A red light seemed to hover everywhere, and people looked at you with curiosity.

The conversation with the receptionist had been uncomfortable. The cold, almost mocking look was not the kind of friendly reception you were used to in commercial places. It was as if you were the joke, something only you didn't know about.

The cloudy weather had persisted for days, and it was so strange that you couldn't even remember the last time you felt the sun on your small balcony. What surprised you was the sound of your phone notifying you of your 'manager' informing you of the time and place where you should be.

Just these details, no photos of the client were necessary. He would be there, paying and evaluating who he wanted. The reality was clear: this would be your first and last time being paid for sex. When you entered this life of being an escort, it was literally to accompany, for dinners and events. However, as this got into your veins, the inevitable greed led to things like striptease. When they touched you, it made you want to vomit, it was exhausting. Some guys always wanted to force something or put their hands in intimate places. This didn't mean you were a bad person, you just wanted the most money possible to get away from all the poverty and need that surrounded you during your childhood and adolescence. Being alone in the world brought more traumas than it seemed.

About a year ago, the decision was made: you would start saving money, get out of this, and open your own business. For that, you agreed to this last encounter. When you were informed a week ago that they were closing a deal related to a possible sexual encounter, your refusal remained firm until you saw the amount of 2 thousand dollars drop into your account just for considering the matter.

You felt bad for selling yourself for so 'little'. It was inevitable, the feeling of deviating from your ethical and life values. Realizing that corruption was not as distant as you believed. Upon accepting, you were only informed that at some point you would receive the information, so you needed to stay alert. Unsurprisingly, the day arrived and not knowing with whom you would meet for the first time left you with an empty stomach, a slight feeling of discomfort.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the elevator's ding, indicating your arrival on the seventh floor. The doors opened, and unsurprisingly, the red of the corridor walls screamed once again.

Before leaving the elevator, you checked yourself in the large mirror at the back, as there was no other in the hotel. Your long black dress flowed lightly with the slit running up to mid-thigh. The matching black heels with silver details added a discreet touch in contrast to your long, full hair with gentle waves that went past your waist. The light makeup highlighted your lashes and lips, which only had a gloss with a slight pinkish tint. You looked perfect for the nearly haunted place.

Your gaze lifted, capturing the camera, and lingered for a few seconds before you moved through the vast corridor. The hotel was not surrounded by cameras, which was unusual considering it seemed like an expensive place where its patrons should have substantial financial clout. Ignoring that, you checked again the real-time location you had sent to one of your colleagues. It was a habit to keep each other informed to avoid any mishap and maintain a sense of security.

The cold wind was coming from the balcony, sweeping through the entire room, sending a chill due to the thin fabric of your dress. There was no sign of anyone in the room, where the only illumination came from the moonlight and a lamp on a nightstand beside the bed. The nervousness returned, and the urge to turn back and go home prevailed.

You might not even consummate the act, you had heard from some prostitutes that a minority of them simply liked the company of a young woman to boost their ego, compliment them, complain about work with them... Who are you kidding? In a situation like this, with 10 thousand dollars at stake, it was almost impossible.

The loud noise coming from the balcony startled you, as if something had suddenly been thrown against the glass. Impulsively, your body stepped back, your hands flying to your chest to check the accelerated rhythm of your heart, which only increased when your back collided with a body, rather, someone's chest. Automatically, you froze, your breath trapped in your lungs, feeling like you were going to collapse, your brain trying to escape that condition.

You felt the unknown person slowly bend their head, the strands of hair starting to tickle the base of your neck, tracing a line up to your ear along with the cold sensation of the tip of their nose.

"You really smell very good." The voice was hoarse and low, as if it had been trapped in the throat for a long time, ready to come out. Despite the panic at that moment, you couldn't help but notice how that sound was at least attractive. The smell of whiskey quickly invaded your senses, mingling with something that seemed like mint, fresh.

He pulled away brutally, without further explanation, leaving you still and unresponsive. He walked past you without explanation and sprawled on the armchair on the left side that led to the balcony. You finally noticed the half-empty bottle on the coffee table, along with a used glass.

Your gaze met the owner of your near heart attack again, but not for long, as it seemed like he could see right through you during the two-second exchange of looks. It was too intimidating, and his physique only added to it. He was undeniably handsome. No, not handsome—gorgeous. In the short time you had, you noticed his moon-pale skin, his almost shoulder-length black hair perfectly framing his face.

Your eyes landed on his hand, noticing the thick silver rings and the beginning of a tattoo, thick black lines that remained hidden by his long-sleeved shirt. His entirely black, casual attire didn't make him look simple; on him, it appeared elegant. In two minutes, you already understood that this wasn't someone you would see in everyday life—he truly seemed like a person from another reality.

"Please, sit." He said nonchalantly.

He realized he was being analyzed, even if briefly, and seemed unbothered. He was used to people staring at him.

Immediately, you adopted the demeanor you were accustomed to when accompanying old men to their events. You didn't fake a personality or anything; after all, there was no room to show your true self, but you acted more open and friendly, trying, even minimally, to be as close as possible to how you were with people in your everyday life. It was hard to work pretending to be someone else. You admired the girls who could easily adapt to their clients. Your luck was that you were always good at being receptive.

You walked to the edge of the bed, as close to him as possible, and settled there on the soft mattress covered with black sheets that seemed of great quality. It was the closest spot to where the man was. So this was Mr. Min. What did you know about him? According to the brief conversation, you only got the information that it was the first time he had contacted any of the services, with no history even of hiring someone just for company.

He remained quiet and unashamedly stared at you. It was his turn to analyze. Unlike you, he had that right. Everything happened so quickly that you almost missed his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe.

"I must say you look even more beautiful in person... Honey Bunny." The nickname made you shudder; it wasn't a normal reaction from your body to feel attracted. In fact, some guys repulsed you. From his mouth, it sounded sweet and domestic.

Why was a guy like him seeking such a service? He could easily have any woman at his feet.

That thought lingered in your mind as you thanked him with a smile. "You look very handsome too."

Finally, with the courage to look at him, you saw his mouth curl into a slight side-smile. He already knew this, but hearing it from the girl who mesmerized him amidst the catalog of so many others satisfied him. "Do you like the place?"

"Well... It's very elegant. I feel a bit like I'm in a horror movie like 'The Shining'." A bit surprised that he was actually starting a conversation and how he changed his behavior in less than a minute. "Your entrance didn't help with the less eerie atmosphere."

Min exhaled through his nose, almost like a chuckle. "I must admit you're not wrong. It's an old place with over 200 years of history. Very exclusive, in fact. Many don't even know exactly what it is, since it has a fixed clientele." Now you understood why you had never heard of it. "Interesting reference. Are such movies your favorites?"

He leaned towards the center table to grab another glass of whiskey. When you noticed, you made a move to get up to do it for him, but stopped when he raised his hand politely for you to halt.

"My favorite genre is definitely slasher. It doesn't truly scare me. I find it a bit amusing, actually—teenagers in an isolated place being chased by a killer with an iconic mask, usually out for senseless revenge. That same old stereotype."

Min settled back in, taking a sip of his drink, and extended the glass a little towards you. You accepted. The man, almost gallantly, took a clean glass and poured the liquid carefully, then handed it to you. Your fingers touched at that moment. Again, the cold skin sent shivers down your spine, making you wonder if it might be better to close the window or turn off the air conditioning, even if it was a hot night. But you didn't want to be intrusive now.

You savored the drink carefully, not wanting to be startled by the taste, as just the smell emanating from the glass made the alcohol level apparent.

"Good taste, but I must admit I'm a little disappointed." He tilted his head and placed his hand on his chin, making you focus again and notice the large veins and the contrast between his hands and the almost delicate face. "I thought it would be more related to monsters, werewolves, zombies, vampires."

"I guess things more related to reality captivate me more than fantasy." Leaning back and resting your back on the mattress, you took a large sip of the drink, keeping your eyes on him. You felt the slight warmth rising to your cheeks, given his intense gaze, eyes darker than his hair.

"The world is too mysterious to be so sure, Bunny." The suggestion didn't have a joking tone, but entering that topic was a tension relief. You knew you had misjudged him due to the scary reception, but since that moment, he seemed, in his own way, to want to make you feel comfortable. "Anyway, what made you change your mind?"

Of course, he knew he had been rejected, but it wasn't something you wanted to delve into deeply, explaining that it would be your last night in this job or even why you started in it. However, precisely because he was your last client and the first you would have physical contact with, you ended up revealing just that information.

He wasn't surprised.

Min was a more reserved person, which showed in his clothes, gestures, and even the type of meeting.

"I don't know if I feel sad or honored to be closing this chapter." He put his hand on his face theatrically, pretending to think seriously about the matter. "I'll choose the latter; it's an honor to have you here with me."

Unable to suppress a small laugh, you covered your mouth to muffle the sound.

"Come on, I feel like you want to ask me something. It's okay. I want to ask you things too."

Your lips parted hesitantly to continue speaking. He had caught you off guard. Your reaction was quicker than planned. Were you really that desperate? Even you were surprised by that.

Still hesitant, you decided to take advantage. Most likely, in a short time, he would be seeing you naked, so there was no reason to worry about a bit of intimacy now. "I don't want to be rude, but why am I here, Mr. Min?" You took a deep breath to continue the line of dialogue. "I mean, you're an attractive man."

"It's something I'm questioning myself too. I don't like seeing something I want and can't have." What surprised you was the simplicity. Min really didn't seem like a guy used to this. "I'm a bit selfish with my desires." His eyes gleamed, and that depth returned, remaining fixed on yours as he said this casually, showing no remorse in saying something like that.

You felt the sticky liquid in your panties, pressing your thighs together and adjusting uncomfortably on the bed. The domination he displayed oozed from his pores. It wasn't about trying to be attractive; it was about being attractive. From the beginning, the man wasn't faking a personality to play a game; he was the game. He liked to play cat and mouse, or in this case, Bunny and hunter. Tease and soothe. While he was rational, his actions carried an impulsive streak. Min was truly obsessed with mind games, corrupting people satisfied him more than a full meal. Seeing you with a lost look, even if for a few moments, left him ecstatic.

He wasn't paying for sex; he paid to have you and to be able to conquer you. We're not talking about romance, far from it... It's about power. Even though his interest in you was instant, Min refused to have a woman beneath him who didn't want to be there willingly.

You felt the air grow denser around you, and the ensuing silence seemed almost palpable. Min was an enigmatic man, and his raw honesty left you unsettled, yet strangely drawn. Unsure of how to respond, you chose to maintain eye contact, challenging him to continue.

"Sometimes," he continued, "people cling to conventions, social rules, expectations... I prefer to follow my own instincts." Min took another sip of his drink, his posture remaining relaxed, but his eyes never leaving yours, as if he were analyzing you deeply.

You pondered his words, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "And what are those instincts?" you asked, trying to sound casual, but your voice came out softer than you expected.

Min smiled slightly, a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Instincts to possess, to control, to deeply understand. It's more about the journey than the final destination. Each interaction, each moment, gives me a new perspective, a new emotion."

He leaned a little closer, sending shivers down your spine once again. "And you, Bunny? What brings you here, aside from it being your last night? What is your deepest instinct?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the intensity of the moment. Whether it was the whiskey or his proximity, your barriers were crumbling. "I think I seek freedom," you admitted, almost in a whisper.

Min nodded slowly, as if understanding perfectly. "Freedom is an interesting concept," he said, more to himself than to you. "Sometimes, we think we have it, but in reality, we're trapped by our own limitations."

He stood up, slowly pacing around the room, his gaze now distant and contemplative. "I'll be honest with you, Bunny. It's not just about control or power for me. It's about connection, even if brief, that can change everything."

You settled on the bed, feeling more exposed than ever, but also strangely excited. "And what do you intend to do with this connection?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation.

Min stopped pacing, turning to look directly at you as he extended his hand to help you up. As he did so, he carefully took the glass from your hand and placed it on the same table he had left his own earlier. "That depends on you," he replied, his voice low and intense. "The night is ours, and what we make of it depends on how you want this story to unfold."

The atmosphere in the room was charged with tension, and you knew you were on the brink of something unusual, something that could change your perspective on many things. As scary as it was, it was also incredibly exciting.

"Bunny... Do you call all your girls like that? Or give nicknames to everyone?" It came out more innocent than planned, almost coquettish.

"Only the special ones get nicknames..." He said almost choked out while one hand detached to your face and the other slid from the top of your waist down to your hips delicately, remaining in that position. You felt the gentle pressure of his large hands slowly squeezing you. "No worries, Bunny, I haven't had anyone special in a long time," he said with a playful tone, as if putting on a little show for the two of you.

Even in a vulnerable situation, you couldn't help but release a sarcastic giggle, understanding his game. It didn't make you less apprehensive about the current situation unfolding.

Contrary to your thoughts, he didn't proceed to seek more physical contact. Instead, he began to sway you gently from side to side, as if in a dance together. It was then that you became more aware of the world around you and noticed a low melody playing in the room, most likely since the moment you entered and went unnoticed.

The hand that was on your face guided one of your arms to his shoulders, to serve as an example of what you should do with the other, and so it was done. The hands on your hips carefully, without pressure, guiding you in a comfortable dance.

He leaned down slowly, brushing away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes and tucking them behind your ear. He then returned to the initial position, resting his head on his chest. Your heart was racing from all the contact with such an attractive man. You tried not to let yourself be carried away by that feeling and remember that you were there for a role, the prostitute.

You would be just one of his girls tonight, but it didn't matter. For those hours, you would let yourself be carried away, feel coveted by someone you also wanted. It would only be that moon that you would have each other, and after that, everything would be over. You just needed to fulfill this.

Several thoughts roamed your mind with him so close. What was stored in the back of your head was how you hadn't realized how broad his shoulders were even with a thin body and delicate appearance. He seemed to have strength.

But what was really a bit disturbing was that you couldn't hear his heartbeat, even though you were literally leaning against his chest. It could be the interference of the music or just that he could relax in that strange situation. Your head was slightly bowed down, so automatically your gaze dropped again to his hand, more precisely the long and thick fingers that carried the rings that caught your attention at first sight. On all of them, there were small signs, it was hard to understand what they were since it was nothing like you had ever seen. Clearly, they were expensive and heavy, but they were not from any known brand, they were probably made especially for him, since they fit perfectly.

The feet, which you were only wearing socks, soon lost their attention to what was under them, the rug. The brightness was too low to really be able to focus on the details. They seemed like small drawings scattered as far as you could see without moving too much, and he noticed.

Hypnotized by the sensation and the symbols, his inclination of the head towards your right ear went unnoticed. "Just focus on us," he whispered huskily, planting small wet kisses near your sensitive spot, sending an electric current coursing through your body. Your lips parted, releasing a faint trace of voice, a soft moan.

You leaned back slightly, bringing your face close to his, locking eyes, closer than ever. Something had changed; the glint in Min's eyes had a slight reddish tint of promiscuity. Nothing else was in the room, better, there was no room, no motel, no last night, and no payment, just the two of you.

You had never been hypnotized in your life, but you were sure it was the same sensation being near him.

Min's gaze gradually descended to observe your lips, your breath low and panting, nervous. It was a cardinal rule that many men followed: when with a prostitute, kisses were forbidden. But neither you nor he seemed to care as the approach happened.

Impulsively, he felt your excitement as your head leaned back slightly, conflict evident in your expressions. Min moved one of the hands that were positioned at your side to the back of your head, firmly. He wanted it, he physically and psychologically desired to roam your mind.

A cold breeze hit your face, and the lips met. Soon he requested entry with his tongue, nibbling on your lip gently, eliciting a whiny complaint from you, and consequently, still with his tongue entwined with yours, he let out another chuckle.

Still in the kiss, the pale-skinned man gently pulled down the strap of your dress, which, being light, slid down your body, leaving you only in white lingerie. You were like an angel in the nest of snakes in his view, the silky skin, the ample breasts, the figure he wanted when he saw you on his friend's phone, who was looking for a girl to play with.

His thumb invaded your mouth and began to play with your tongue, letting it moisten. "Suck, Bunny," he said, as the grip on your waist returned, his eyes shining toward you. He noticed the confusion and struggle you were facing between continuing or running away. Min wouldn't allow that; your body craved him, to be satisfied.

His thumb left your mouth, and you gasped for lack of it. Soon it was replaced by a real and loud moan when he released the bra with just one hand and grabbed one of your breasts. "They're perfect," he began to play with your nipple, squeezing a little too hard. You were very sensitive in that area, and he liked that.

"Min..." you placed your hand on his chest and felt the warm skin under the palm of your hand. He looked at you, "Yoongi is my name. I need you to know what you'll be screaming."

Your legs trembled at the mention of the name. The high heels that remained didn't facilitate stability, and quickly you got rid of them, becoming aware of the height difference. Yoongi was even taller than he seemed.

He guided you to the bed, getting on top of you, without kissing you again, he was teasing. Friction between the bodies began to occur, and a squeaky moan escaped your throat. Your mind didn't focus on anything else; before you could notice, you felt a wet trail through the fabric of your lace panties. "I repeat what I said, Bunny. You smell very good." Impulsively, your legs threatened to close around his head, quickly interrupted by his hands on your knee.

He transferred a slap to the accessible part of your ass. "Never do that again." It wasn't a request, it was an order, as he pulled your hips up, getting rid of the only piece that kept you covered.

"Yoongi, you don't have to do this. It's not your obligation." Your gaze remained on the ceiling, more precisely on the chandelier, too embarrassed to look down.

He didn't bother to respond, just began to lick and suck your little button, covering your entire pussy. Every inch of your body was struggling to maintain a minimum of decency and not be scandalous.

You were clutching the sheets and looked down. He was staring back at you with only his tongue playing with your pussy. It didn't take long, and your trembling thighs began to close around Yoongi's head. Incoherent murmurs escaped your mouth. Your moans stimulated him. "Don't stop." And a small scream signaled the end. You clenched your jaw when you finally came.

Yoongi kept his eyes on yours as he pulled down his pants and removed his shirt. Wow, he had a thin body, but, as you imagined, he definitely worked out. Everything seemed better because of the tattoos; there were many, covering from his hands to his chest. It wasn't certain yet, but they seemed to extend to his back. A sudden movement awakened you; Min was holding the condom between his teeth, tearing it with fury.

You tried to stop him, claiming it was your turn to satisfy him, since besides really wanting to, that's what you were there for, but you weren't heard.

"We have eternity for that," he said, unrolling the condom over his pink head and aligning his hips with yours.

"Necessarily for the rest of the night," you joked with a chuckle, trying not to think about how his member would fit, even though you were already prepared. It really was above average.

Yoongi smiled, brushing his lips against yours. Gripping your left thigh, he pulled it, making your knee touch your chest. It seemed he had noticed that he needed as much openness as possible before inserting himself into you. He left your other leg stretched out on the mattress. He sat on his legs while grabbing his cock with his free hand, lightly masturbating with the sight. Until he started pressing it through your fold, touching your still sensitive clit, which made your body recoil closer to the headboard, being prevented by his strength.

"Easy, you're dripping on me, Y/N. You'll only feel pain if I want you to," he said, lowering himself to push the tip past your entrance. Another slap on your butt and you choked in shock again. His eyes were fixed on the circumference sliding through your hole, feeling your walls, slowly, squeezing him.

"Damn, you're needier than I thought." He slapped again, but harder and rougher, holding your raised leg to ensure you didn't fall. All words escaped you; he was deep inside you, and your only reaction was your groans, which were a cute symphony to Yoongi.

"Oh my God, Yoo-nngi!"

As his hips began to pound into you, he remained fixed on the movement of his penis against your body. His hips pounding into you as he fucked you against the mattress.

Tears began to flow from your eyes as you struggled to remain minimally rational. But at that point, it seemed he was there to serve you and not the other way around.

His name was all that came out of your mouth, repeatedly, in a whiny manner.

Yoongi abruptly stopped his thrusts, remaining inside you. He leaned near your mouth. "Ass up," he instructed as he rolled his hips one last time.

As soon as you did as instructed, Yoongi parted your buttocks with his soft hands, squeezing them with as much force and giving a slap, which would turn purple later. He grabbed your hips and pulled your butt up, smacking your other cheek, making you complain loudly. "Damn..." Yoongi groaned.

With his hands squeezing your butt, you suddenly felt him entering again. If your body weren't fully supported on the mattress, it would have been a nasty fall. Your face was sinking into the pillow, not allowing you to see anything around, just the sensations.

Your heart was racing in your chest. "So fucking good..." Yoongi grunted, fucking you in a rough and desperate rhythm.

There was no escaping the pain you were feeling all over your body, the sound of the headboard banging against the wall was an indication of his strength. He leaned over your back, and his lips found the curve of your neck after he grabbed your hair between his fingers and lifted your head to have access. Your eyes rolled back; he was too close, and so were you.

"You like this, don't you?" he murmured, not interrupting the movements. "Tell me, Bunny, how much do you like being fucked like this?"

You could barely form words, but you mumbled something between moans, "So much, Yoongi, I like it so much..."

A few more thrusts, and the warm and familiar sensation began to grow in the pit of your stomach.

"I'm... I..." The words got lost in your throat.

Yoongi kept his mouth on your neck, and during the release, you felt a bite on the spot, like needles. It was sore, but the mixture of everything, the deplorable situation you found yourself in, left you inert.

"Mmmm..." You heard Min grunt like an animal in your ear as he let go.

Yoongi didn't slow down as they both climaxed. Your whole body was trembling with pleasure and pain, mixed in an overwhelming way. He continued to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm until you could no longer distinguish where the pain ended and the pleasure began.

Finally, when Yoongi slowed down and pulled out of you, both of you were covered in sweat and panting. He lay down beside you, pulling you close.

A overpowering drowsiness accompanied you afterwards, and you couldn't even get up to clean yourself, just turned over on your back. The last thing you remember before falling asleep are Yoongi's red eyes comforting you as he said, "You can rest, Bunny. You did a great job."

Hello, long time no see… I've been a bit absent because I've been job hunting (unsuccessfully) and busy with college stuff… Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy my next story and feel free to comment on what I can improve or praise. Don't forget that I'm always open to answering questions. xoxo.

#bts au #yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #suga #bts suga #fanfic #bts #bts junkook #jung hoseok #jimin #jin #rm #taehyung #jeon junkook #yoongi smut

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Hi

I was wondering whether u were taking requests for The Other Half.

Can u pls write a fic where the shop girl and bruce have an unplanned pregnancy or something along the lines of it.

I luv u and ur fics sm

Hav a great day

I opted for a pregnancy scare rather tan a full-blown pregnancy; hope that's okay! also the form of this chapter is a little different.

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Warnings: Canon-typical violence; angst! ! Much angst.

You have a bad, bad headache.

“She awake yet?” 

Almost an entire week late. That was a lot of late, way more than you’ve ever been before. You’d taken a test and it turned up negative, but that doesn’t mean that it won’t be positive in a day or two.

A baby?

Are you even ready to have a child? Is Bruce? You’re hardly seen with one another in public these days.

“Not yet.” 

The possibility has caused complete and total distraction—to the point of…Well, what would you call this. A severe mishap? Failure? 

“We get anything back from Wayne?” 

“No.” 

A messy, messy morning. 

“Maybe he’s not really fucking her.” 

A spilled cup of coffee, a favorite blouse completely ruined. 

“They were in all the papers together.” 

“Yeah, but that was months ago. I told you we should’ve gone for Liz Wyatt. No one knows who the hell this bitch is.” 

You'd had a biting, short-tempered conversation with Bruce before you’d stormed over to the elevator and insisted that you’d get yourself to work and back.

“Maybe he’s not really rich.” 

“Please. The guy’s turds are worth more than what we make in a month. Bet they’re gold-flaked and shit…Anyway, it’s only been a few hours. Don't panic yet…Fuckin’ pussy.” 

A bad day at work, a really, really crappy takeout lunch, and a stupid, stupid move as you’d come out of the office building to head home. 

“Don’t call me that, shithead.” 

An unfamiliar car, the blur of a face before a cloth had been pressed over your nose and mouth and someone had yanked you close form behind. Panic, tight breaths, and then—

“Alright, wake ‘er up.” 

Darkness. Darkness and silence that slowly gave rise to—

“How do you want me to do that? Slap her?” 

Two nattering voices volleying arguments, questions, commands back and forth for the past half hour—

You gasp, sputtering as water is poured over you. You cough roughly as some of it catches in your dry throat, hinging forward as your throat and chest ache with the force. You draw in a deep breath as soon as you’re able, blinking rapidly and trying to get a better look at your surroundings. When you’d first come to, you’d realized how tightly your arms were zip tied behind yourself to the beam that you’d been propped against, and your ankles were zip tied in front of you. The floor beneath you is hard as hell, and you kind of have to pee. You've spent your time awake feigning unconsciousness in the hopes that they'd leave you alone.

Your gaze catches on two sets of steel-toed boots, and slowly travels up, up—You wince, squinting against the harsh overhead light illuminating the dank warehouse. You recoil at their faces, your whacking against the wide pole behind you. The two laugh cruelly, making embarrassment curdle in your stomach. One crouches down, roughly gripping your jaw and turning your face toward him. You can’t squirm away like you’d like, and you’re forced to smell his acrid breath. 

“Why don’t you get comfortable, honey,” He chuckles. “We’re waiting on your boyfriend.”

--  

“Will you be dining alone this evening?” 

Bruce glances over at Alfred, trying not to grimace at his pointed question. He shifts on the couch, sinking down in his seat a little under his guardian’s scrutiny. 

“She should be back soon.” 

“Have you heard from her?” 

Not one word, all day. Bruce had checked his phone almost obsessively throughout the day, looking for missed calls or texts, but there hadn’t been a thing from her. Bruce had considered reaching out first, but he was still sort of pissed. He’d spent the day trying to figure out what the hell he'd done wrong, what she’d gotten so damn worked up about. He couldn’t think of a single thing. 

“Perhaps you ought to call and let her know that we’re at the mansion,” Alfred hedges again. Bruce considers it for a moment, glancing at his blank phone screen. Maybe he could…No. 

“She needs her space,” He insists. “She’s mad at me.” 

Alfred hesitates for a moment before he turns away. It may be overstepping his bounds, but he fishes into his pocket for his phone. He sends two texts—one saying that he hopes that she’s had a good day, and another asking if she needs a ride home. He sends them, and waits…And waits…And frowns. Neither message delivers. He turns back to the couch just in time to see Bruce reaching for his phone, then going still and ultimately leaning back in his seat, sliding even further down like a moody teen. 

Perhaps Alfred ought to simply take a look for himself.

--  

He asks the first woman coming out of the Wayne Enterprises building—someone that Bruce recently had him run a background check on. 

“Pardon me, Ms...James? Rose James?” He smiles, as the young woman stops in her tracks. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if I could ask after a friend of ours.”

Rose’s brows raise as he offers the name. 

“Oh,” She laughs, “She left hours ago. In this huff, too, like a funk? Like not a smelly funk, like a mood kinda funk.” 

Alfred fights to keep his composure, his hands still clasped in front of himself. 

“Ah, of course,” He forces a laugh, “I must’ve confused my days. My apologies, Ms. James—and thank you for your time.” He turns away from her, fishing into his pocket for his phone and eyeing his messages. They still haven’t been delivered. 

Something does not feel right. 

--  

You close your eyes, letting your throbbing head rest back against the pole. You have to distract yourself from your aching arms, and the sharp tingling of your legs and feet falling asleep. You’ve got to think of something else. 

What would you even name a baby? 

Your stomach flips at the thought, and you wince a little. Of all things to think about right now…Then again, what else have you got to do? 

Does Bruce want kids? The two of you have never actually discussed kids…Or marriage, or officially moving in with one another. Maybe you would’ve had those conversations if the two of you hadn’t been photographed kissing in the lobby of Wayne Enterprises, or leaving the vacation house of your Valentine’s retreat. Maybe you’d have had the conversations if Bruce wasn’t…Bruce. 

“Anything?” You hear one of the thieves say to the other. 

“No.” 

“Hmph.” 

You draw in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself as the same slim man leans in toward you. You get a better look at him this time—at his cold, grey eyes, pallid skin and yellowing teeth. 

“You better hope that Wayne answers soon,” He warns, drawing a knife out of his boot. You flinch as he raises it, lightly tapping the tip of it on the underside of your chin. “If he doesn’t, you’ll be leaving here in bits.” 

--  

“Did Rose say what time she left?” Bruce asks, practically bounding off of the elevator and over to the computers deeper in the cave. Alfred follows as quickly as he can, shaking his head. 

“She didn’t, and I neglected to ask.”

Bruce yanks his chair back, reaching down and hurriedly tapping into the security camera feed around Wayne Enterprises. His eyes scan the screen studiously as he winds the security footage back to when she typically leaves work. He stops it there, then skims through the footage a little faster. 

“Wait, there—” Alfred points, “Go back.” 

Bruce rewinds again slightly before he presses play on the footage. His heart leaps into his throat as he watches a man put something over her mouth, her body going limp as two men drag her into a van and take off. He hurriedly changes the camera angle and pauses the footage, zooming in on the license plate. 

Bruce glances over as he sees something move out of his periphery, and frowns when he spots someone leaving something on the front door step. 

“Alfred.” 

“Yes?” 

“Go grab that, would you?” 

--  

“You just dropped it off?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Just now, you just dropped it off? Oh, for fuckssake!” 

You peer warily over at where a third man has hurried in and joined the first two. 

“I got stuck in traffic!” 

“That’s some weak–ass excuse, Frank.” 

“Hey, don’t use names,” The new guy nods over his shoulder toward you, “In front of the girl.” 

“Oh, you worried about her knowing your name? Knowing your face?” 

“Well—” 

“Good point, Frank.” The shot rings out, and you can’t hold back your rough, dry-throated scream as the man raises a gun without hesitation and kills Frank, sending the man sprawling to the ground. He lowers the gun, turning to look at you and gesturing toward Frank’s body. 

“I known Frank twenty years. I do that to him, can you imagine what I’ll do to you?”

--  

“The van took a route through downtown before it crossed the bridge into the Narrows—What’s that?” Bruce asks, glancing back as Alfred approaches again with a small envelope

“It’s addressed to you, sir.” 

Bruce takes it hesitantly, frowning. He takes hold of it, looking over it before he flips it over and opens it. His blood runs cold as he draws out a photograph of her—unconscious, and tied up. His other hand crinkles the envelope, unable to help it as his rage builds. He turns the photo over, frowning when he sees the untidy, scratchy writing. 

“What’s it say?” 

“There’s a phone number.” Bruce tosses the envelope aside before he turns back to the console, punching the number in.

“You’re calling?” 

“It’s probably a burner.” He only has to wait a few moments before someone picks up, and watches as his system traces the signal. 

“Took you long enough, Wayne.” 

“I called the moment I got the envelope.” 

There’s a pause, a grumble on the other side, and his heart stutters as he hears a gunshot. 

“What the hell was that?” He snaps. 

“Don’t worry about it. Listen,” The man sighs. “Two million in cash. No cops.” 

“Where is she?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“I want to talk to her.” 

“You’ve got twenty four hours, Mr. Wayne. Call when you have the cash. I’ll send you an address.” 

Bruce opens his mouth to argue, but before he can, the man hangs up. Bruce clenches his jaw, fighting the urge to punch a hole through one of the screens. He tips his chin up, eyeing the spot on the map the phone signal came from. 

“Alfred.” 

“Sir?”

“Take one of the cars, one with heavily tinted windows. Drive into the city, take as much money as you can at an ATM, from tellers, wherever you can get it.” 

“What for?” 

“After that, I want you to come back, use the number on the back of that photo and call it. Get an address.” 

“And bring it to them?” 

“They might be watching the house. I want them to think I’m doing what they said. Don't worry,” Bruce turns away, striding toward the suit. "I'll get there before you do."

--  

Names. What would you even name a kid? You’d probably want to give them a normal name…Well normal as in a typical spelling, and not some over-voweled, extra-consonanted monstrosity, like Mickayleigh or Jostlelynn or Redgeena. 

What were his parents' names? You furrow your brow, trying to remember. You haven’t spoken to Bruce about his parents much, either. Fuck, the more you think about it, there’s so much that you haven’t talked about, that you don’t know...That you may never get to find out.

“He’s got the money.” 

You glance back toward the triumphant whoop of one of the men. 

“Wayne?” He asks.

“Nah, the old guy. He's heading to the drop-off point.” 

Alfred? Your brow furrowed as you tipped your head back against the pole. You had no idea why Alfred would be the one getting cash—

You suck in a shocked breath as the room is suddenly plunged into darkness. You hear the two men tripping over one another, followed by a scuffle and a curse. 

“You alright, man?” 

“Tripped over Frankie—Ugh, he’s cold—”

You wince as the lights suddenly flicker back on, and your heart leaps when you see Batman standing over the fallen robber. The man looks up, and before he can fully get out his yell of, “Oh, shi—”, you see Bruce lifting his foot. You wince, turning your head and squeezing your eyes shut as you hear the man yowl in pain. 

It’s like being in the middle of a horror movie. You can hear what’s happening, and you desperately want to look to assuage your own morbid curiosity, but you’re worried that what you’ll see will be so much worse than you’re imagining. You hear gunshots, grunts, yelps, the cracking of bone, and then—

Nothing. You hear nothing. 

It’s another few moments before you hear the thudding of boots approaching. You dare to peek a single eye open just in time to see the edge of his cape as he rounds the pole. You hear a snick, chased by the feeling of your arms being untied. You groan as they fall limply to your sides, feeling about as heavy as a ton of bricks. He rounds you, crouching down in front of you and untying your ankles as well. It takes you a few moments to reach out, your arms weary and weak from their stretching, and the lack of blood flow. Bruce takes your hands in his gloved ones, easing you off of your feet and shushing you softly when you whimper and stumble into his chest. 

"Are you hurt?"

"No—"

"—They didn't hurt you—?"

"No!" You swear, forcing your pained arms up to wrap around him. He turns his head, lips brushing against your temple.

“It’s alright,” He murmurs. “I’ve got you.” 

--  

"You didn't recognize either of them?"

"No."

“So what you've told me, that’s all you remember?” Commissioner Gordon asks. “No names?” 

You shake your head a little, eyeing the floor. “Apart from the one guy…Frankie? They were pretty careful about not saying who they were when I was awake.” 

“Frankie was, uh…” He checks his notes, “The one that was shot twice, laying on the floor?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did Batman shoot Frankie?”

“What?” You frown. “No. One of the other guys did that. The, uh…The thin-ish one, with really bad teeth.” 

“And the other one?” 

“He didn’t say much to me.” 

“So…Batman came in and got you out.” 

“Yes.” 

“And dropped you off here at the precinct.” 

“Yes.” 

Commissioner Gordon’s brows jump before they lower again, and he jots something else down. 

“How much longer is this going to take?” Bruce grumbles.

Gordon’s gaze flickers over to where Bruce is still pacing behind you. 

“We’re nearly through here, Mr. Wayne.” 

You hear Bruce huff, followed by the thud of him slouching against the door. It’s a moment before Gordon is shifting in his seat, redirecting his attention. 

“Remind me where you were, Mr. Wayne?” 

“At my mansion.” 

He reports it flatly, and even in your weariness, you have to bite back a smile. 

“We have footage of your butler driving around and taking out money.” 

“I don’t keep that much cash on hand.” 

“And you were just going to pull as much money out as you possibly could?” 

“Whatever it took to get her back.” 

You lean back in your seat as some of the fear, panic, and anxiety well up again. You can feel tears prickling in your eyes, your chest tightening. Commission Gordon sighs, nodding. 

“I think that’s enough for today. I may have a few follow-up questions in the next few days.” 

“Of course,” Bruce answers for both of you, and you’re grateful for it. He comes closer, taking hold of your hand and helping you up. You still feel a little woozy, and you lean heavily against him. 

“I’m sorry to tell you, but there’s a lot of press outside. We, uh…” Gordon rounds the desk, opening the door to his office for you. “We set up barricades to get you from the door to your car without too much hassle.”  

“There isn’t a back exit?” 

“I’m afraid they’ve got the building surrounded, Mr. Wayne.” 

Bruce pushes a heavy sigh through his nose before he mutters quietly in concession. You don’t meet anyone’s eye as he leads you through the bullpen to the elevator, or as Commissioner Gordon gets on with you. 

“Are you driving?” You murmur. Bruce shakes his head, lips brushing your forehead. 

“Alfred is.” 

Alfred. It’ll be nice to see another friendly face. Bruce leads you off of the elevator, fishing into his pocket and drawing out a pair of sunglasses. 

“Put these on,” He orders, “And keep your head down. I’ll get us to the car.” 

You nod, putting on the thick, chunky sunglasses. They practically obscure half of your face. 

“Ready?” Bruce asks. You nod again, tucking yourself more tightly into his side as Commissioner Gordon opens the door. You don’t even have the chance to step a foot outside before you’re bombarded by the flashing of cameras, and yelled questions coming from all directions. It makes you want to run back inside and find some quiet corner to curl up in, but Bruce wraps his arm tightly around your shoulders, steering you to the car. You almost stumble trying to keep up with the pace he sets, fighting to keep your steps even and quick as he guides you down the path that the cops have set up and into the car.

As soon as the door is shut behind you, you sag down in your seat and draw your sunglasses off, peering through the heavily-tinted windows at the mob of press. The sound is let in again as Bruce gets in on the other side of the backseat, and as Alfred gets into the driver’s seat. It’s not a clean peeling away from the curb—a few press still crowd around the front, trying to get shots of you and Bruce through the windshield—but Alfred finally pulls away, and it feels like you can breathe again. 

--  

As you strip down to shower—as you suddenly feel an acute cramping in your lower stomach—you start to cry, the full weight of the day crashing down around you. Bruce turns back from where he’s been turning the knobs to heat up the water, and through your kaleidoscope of tears, you can see his expression melting from confusion to sadness. He reaches out, drawing you into his chest, and you go willingly. You don’t even care that his hands are wet from checking to see if the water is warm enough. You just bury your face in his chest and let every bit of your fear and worry drain from you. 

--  

“...Thought you had it already.”

“Hm?” You hum softly.

“Your period.” 

You wince at the comment, focusing on the steady rise and fall of Bruce’s chest. You’d thought that you’d have to have this conversation at some point in the next few days, but right now, tucked into his side in bed, you can’t think of anything you’d like to talk about less. Still, you trail your fingers along his side, weighing your words before you admit: 

“I was late.” 

“How late?” 

“A week.” 

Bruce is quiet for a few moments, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head. 

“Did you think…?” He hedges.

“Yeah.” 

“...Is that why you almost took my head off this morning?” 

“Yes…Sorry, by the way.” 

“S’okay.” 

Is it? 

You let it hang in the air for a moment. You could let the conversation pass. You could just move—

“Would you have been happy?” You hedge, “If…I was?” 

A few moments of harrowing silence as Bruce’s fingers skate over your bare back. 

“I don’t know.” 

It’s honest, at least, but it doesn’t feel good. Yes was what you’d been hoping for. But I don’t know? You can feel yourself tearing again, and you bite down on your inner cheek, just nodding when you feel him looking down at you. He sighs heavily, murmurs, “Sweetheart,” But he doesn’t get all of it out before you’re pulling away from him and pushing yourself to sit up. You draw in a few deep breaths to steady yourself, raising your hands to swipe away the few tears that escape. To his credit, Bruce gives you the space that you need, sitting up and staying on his side of the bed. 

“Look at what happened to you today,” He points out. 

“That could’ve happened to anybody,” You grumble.

“Not like this. It happened because people know that you’re with me. It’s dangerous for you. And if it hadn’t just been you, if we ever…” It takes him a moment. “If we ever had a child, they would be a target, too.”

You sniffle softly, tucking your arms around your middle and fisting your fingers in the fabric of your sleep shirt. You know that he’s right, and you want to hate him for it.

“Is that why we never talk about that stuff?” You ask. 

“What stuff?” 

“Our future.” You turn your head back toward him, watching him in your periphery. You can see his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze set ahead. 

“It’s not an easy conversation to have.” 

“Is that all we can have? Easy conversations?” 

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t put words in my mouth.” 

You sniffle again, turning away from him and looking down at the sheets. You feel Bruce scooch a little closer, sliding his hand along your lower back before he gently draws you back against him. You lean against him, pouting a touch as your cramps flare. Bruce nuzzles against your hair, dropping a kiss there. 

“Today was a lot,” He murmurs. “Can we just…Can we get some sleep? Talk about this tomorrow?” 

You nod, letting Bruce steer you to lay back down. You rest your head on his shoulder, fingers absently tracing shapes on his chest. 

“...For the record,” You offer softly, “Those men did what they did because they were greedy. I’m safe because of you, Bruce.” 

Bruce’s grip tightens on you, and you snuggle closer, sliding your leg over his and pressing as close as possible despite the twinging in your belly. 

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Half