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sturncrazy · 4 months

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New Camera 🔥

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUUUUUTTT NSFW 18+ (umm lots. use of camera/recording, dom matt, degrading, slapping, language, daddy kink, slight choking, unprotected, creampie, j very rough)

authors note: so this won the vote for which y’all wanted first! ask and u shall receive! this one is FILTHY AND KINKY so if that’s not ur vibe, uve been warned…also side note, i feel like this goes without saying but, i write mostly unprotected… guys pls don’t actually do that. wrap it before u tap it🫶 ok luv u!! enjoy!!

summary: your boyfriend matt gets a new camera before going on tour and decides to experiment with it on you…

word count: 2,270 w

~you look good on camera baby let’s go make a film~

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your phone buzzed on your desk.

“be over in 10 babe ❤️” read a message from matt. you went back to fixing your makeup in the mirror, wanting to look your best for your boyfriends last night home. Matt was about to leave to go on tour tomorrow and it would be a month and a half before you got to see him again. even though you were excited for him, you wanted to make sure it was extra hard for him to leave you. after swiping on some lip gloss, you rummaged through your closet and landed on a thin white tank and flannel shorts. comfy, but still cute and showed just the right amount of skin to hopefully get his attention. your doorbell rang and you ran to answer it.

“hi, beautiful” matt said, pulling you in for a kiss.

“hi” you said smiling at him, the chill from outside hitting your mostly bare skin. he closed the door and walked in. his eyes gave you a once over as he took off his coat.

“you look hot” he smirked

“oh yeah?” you replied coyly, turning to head back down the hall.

“yeah. some shorts” he chuckled out, blatantly checking out your ass.

“what these?” you teased, bending over slightly

“don’t start with me, y/n” matt came up behind you and slapped your ass, playfully but hard. the two of you walked to your room and you flopped on your bed, reaching for the remote to your tv. matt followed and unzipped his backpack, rummaging through it and pulling out a box.

“whatcha got there?”

“bought a new vlog camera for tour!” he answered, excitedly

“wanna see?” he sat down next to you, showing off the new device.

“oooo fancy” you knew nothing about cameras, but pretended to be impressed since matt was so enthusiastic. his fingers whizzed around the buttons.

“it’s got awesome quality and it’s so easy to use” he continued, the machine chirped as he hit the red button and pointed it at your face.

“matttt” you whined, covering your face with your hands.

“what are you being camera shy?” he snickered, standing above you continuing to point the lens at you.

“cmon show me that gorgeous face of yours baby” you huffed, dramatically and lowered your hands looking up at him.

“that’s my pretty girl” he cooed, making a smile toy at the corners of your mouth. you could never say no to him. his eyes flicked over you behind the camera and you tried to read what he was thinking. he licked his lips and backed up, silently, getting a wider view of you in frame. you stayed put on the bed.

“take your top off” he stated, flatly.

“matt-what—?” you nervously laughed out

“did i say it was a question? take your top off” something about the harshness of his tone was so out of character it made your heart race. you reached for the hem of your tank and began to lift it.

“damn, baby” matt growled out, lowering the camera to capture your exposed tits. you breathed heavily, unable to bring yourself to move from your perched position on the edge of your bed. your eyes followed as his hands lowered the camera even further to where you had your hands in your lap.

“now your shorts”

“but—matt—im not wearing any underwear” you stuttered.

“and?”

��well you’re filming i mean i—“

“if you’re gonna be a little slut and not wear your panties then i get to treat you like a little slut. strip.” he interrupted, gruffly. you couldn’t help but notice how insanely hot he sounded being so demanding, and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see your already obvious wetness. you reached for your waistband, standing, never taking your eyes off him as you began to lower your shorts to the floor. you stepped out of them and kicked them aside. nervousness spread goosebumps across your skin as you became aware of how completely exposed you were to matt and his camera. this was unlike anything you’d ever done before.

“good girl” matt praised, dryly.

“you wanna give me a better view of that pretty little ass of yours and bend over the bed for me?” you felt as vulnerable to matt’s commands as the machine in his hands. you slowly turned half way and rested your hands on your bed, lifting your ass into better view for him.

“fuck” he exhaled. you could feel him move closer behind you. he brought a hand sharply down against your flesh. you whimpered.

“so sexy” he growled.

“got me so hard just looking at you baby” you turned your head back to look at him. he laughed, sinisterly.

“what? you wanna see what you’re doing to me, slut? huh?”

you nodded, dumbly. he snickered again.

“course you do. get on your knees for me.” he demanded. you followed every order like a well trained dog. you settled down by his feet and looked back up at him, as he readjusted the lens again.

“mmmm you look so perfect from this angle, babygirl” he praised stroking your face gently, before slapping his hand against your cheek just enough to sting a bit. your jaw dropped slightly in surprise, which matt took as an opportunity to slid his thumb into your mouth. you sucked at his digit and he groaned, watching you before sliding it back out of your mouth creating a popping sound.

“take off my pants” he commanded. you eagerly fumbled with his belt and zipper, hooking your fingers around the waste and and pulling slowly. his already rock hard dick sprung out and slapped his t shirt. your mouth almost watered in desperation at the sight of his veiny, practically throbbing, member.

“open your mouth, baby” he exhaled. you looked up into the camera, doe eyed and parted your lips with your tongue out slightly. he pumped himself with his free hand, the tip of his dick just grazing your lips and tongue and then began to slowly insert himself into your warm wet mouth. he ran his hand down your head, petting your hair, soothingly, as you took him all the way down the back of your throat. fighting the urge to gag at his size.

“such a good girl” matt groaned. his pets reached the base of your skull, then latched harshly into your hair. his grip was tight, as he began to thrust into your mouth. you felt tears form at the corner of your eyes as he forcefully fucked your throat. matt let his grasp on your hair go and slid himself out of your mouth. he grabbed your jaw and forced you to turn your messy face to him, getting a clear shot of the streaks of tears on your cheeks and spit running down your chin.

“get on your hands and knees. i need to feel that pretty little pussy of yours” he huffed, patting your face again. you scrambled to the bed, desperate to feel him fill you up. you’d never felt so much heat screaming from between your legs in your life. you arched your back, letting matt have perfect access to your dripping folds. matt dragged a finger down them, teasing you and eliciting a loud whine from your lips.

“soaking for me already huh, slut?” he mocked. all you could do in response was whimper.

“so pathetic for me” he taunted, pressing two fingers against your entrance.

“matt—please—“ you breathed out in agony

“camera can’t hear you, baby. be a good little slut and beg louder for me.”

“Matt—fuck—-please—i need your dick now—“ you cried out, the need for contact almost eating away at your brain. you screamed as matt rammed into you, entirely, and without warning. the unprepared sensation of stretch caused a pleasurable pain to radiant through you. he groaned, finally feeling your wet pussy around his torturously hard dick. he began to relentlessly pound into you from behind, filling the room with deafening slapping sounds intermixed with your screams and his grunts.

“MATT—“ you cried out, overwhelmed by his intensity, collapsing your face into the pillows beneath you.

“what? ” he wrapped his free hand around a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back up.

“don’t act like you can’t handle my cock now, slut.” he snarled, not letting up on his unwavering rhythm in and out of your core. he slapped your ass again.

“understand?”

“yes matt” you wheezed. he slapped your ass again.

“yes, who?”

“fuckk—yes, daddy” you sobbed out

“good girl” his thrusts hit your g spot each time, making your legs shake and stars form against your tightly squeezed eyelids.

“you wanna show me how much you love my cock, princess?”

“yes, daddy” you hardly could think straight

“bounce that perfect ass on my cock, baby” he said, slowing his thrusts. you obeyed and began to rock your hips back and forth, fucking yourself on his dick.

“good girl. doing such a good job” he sang out, one hand gripping your flesh while the other captured your movement on film. you whimpered again, your hips stuttering.

“you tired, princess?” you nodded and let out another pathetic sound.

“need daddy to take over again?”

“yes—oh fuck—please daddy-“ you managed to mumble out. Matt pulled out of you abruptly, causing you to whine at the loss. you couldn’t move anymore, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop fucking you. he slapped your ass again

“turn over” he growled

“i wanna see your pretty face when i cum in your pussy” you felt like you could cum from his filthy requests alone. you’d barely even landed on you back before matt slammed back into your throbbing entrance. he struggled to keep his balance momentarily, too desperate to feel you around him again. he kept one hand supporting himself upright and the other still holding the camera, pointed at you as his picked back up his steady thrusts.

“so perfect—look ss-so good—with my cock stuffed inside your little pussy” he huffed out between thrusts

“OH—fuck—yes—your cock feels so good, daddy” you moaned out, helplessly. your eyes rolling back into your head. matt’s free hand wrapped around your throat, constricting your breathing perfectly.

“watch me while i fuck you, slut” he growled.

“yes, daddy” you wheezed out against his tight grip. he removed his hand and you gasped for air. within moments of his dick pounding perfectly back against your sweet spot, you felt your orgasm begin to crest.

“FUCK—IM—“ you panted.

“that’s it—good girl—cum all over daddy’s cock” he ordered. your walls clenched and throbbed around him uncontrollably, causing him to let out a string of curse words. you felt his dick begin to twitch deep inside you.

“ohh-hh-fuck—shit” he stuttered out, his thrusts becoming wilder and less expertise.

“mmm—close—“ he groaned, his jaw dropping slightly.

“mmmm fuck yeah cum inside me, daddy” you whined out, your high still settling.

“shit yeah baby? you want me to fill your little pussy?”

your brows knotted and your nodded your head desperately.

“fuck i’ll fill you up—so full of cum—baby you’ll look—-so perfect—spilling out of you” he huffed

“OH FUCK FUCK BABY IM GONNA CUM” he cried out as his whole body shook. he thrust deep into you one last time, halting as his cock spasmed against your walls. releasing a multitude of spurts of his hot white load. once matt seemed to regain his senses, he clicked the red button again—ending his taping. he pulled out of you slowly, making your legs shake. he glanced down at your trembling sensitive entrance leaking his release in pulses and bit his lip in a satisfied smirk, snapping one last photo of the mess he’d made of you.

“MATT!” you laughed out in embarrassment, shutting your legs and rolling onto your side.

“sorry…i had to. too hot not save” he said, smiling and flopping down next to you.

“are you okay? was that too much?” he asked, pushing your hair out of your face.

“no way. i loved that”

“you swear i wasn’t too rough with you?” he said with worry. you shook your head vigorously

“not at ALL! that was HOT” you replied through a smile. he fought a grin, biting his lip clearly extremely pleased at your enthusiasm.

“so can i ask what inspired the camera?” you questioned.

“well, now on tour i can reminisce what it’s like to fuck my crazy hot girlfriend” he smiled at the ceiling.

“hey!” you slapped his chest playfully “you know you can always facetime me and we cannnnn” you dragged your words out, looking off into the distance above his face in teasing suggestion.

“oh don’t you worry, we’ll have phone sex all the time. this is just for when you can’t call me and i need to…y’know” he glanced down at his crotch.

“jesus, how many times are you planning on jerking off” you teased

“twice a day. minimum.” he matter of factly stated, grinning again.

“MATTHEW!” you scoffed out in shock

“What? not my fault you’re so sexy” he laughed, leaning in to give you a peck on the lips.

“yeah yeah whatever. just NEVER show that to anyone”

“are you kidding me? you think i’d ever let anyone else get a look at you like that? nhhuhh nope.” he shook his head dramatically

“only i get to see how perfect you look getting your brains fucked out” he leaned in, kissing you playfully again. you giggled, feeling a slight blush.

“i love you, you freak” you said against his lips.

“i love you more, baby”

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ok y’all were on to something with wanting this one cause WHY DO I LOVE IT?? rly hope everyone likes it ahhh 🫶🫶

also guys imagine matt accidentally posting the wrong video and posts ur tape instead of a car video?? HAHA

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Wrong Number | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was planning on a quiet night at home with a beer and a basketball game on TV. When he receives a text from a wrong number, he's left looking at a beautiful photo of you. Now he just needs to persuade you to ditch the guy you meant to text and focus on him instead.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, slight dirty talk, Bradley touching himself

Length: 4700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for Rocktober. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

Bradley had endured such a long week at work, all he wanted to do was change out of his uniform, grab a beer from his fridge and lounge around on the couch in his underwear without a responsibility in sight. Nobody should have to work until ten on a Friday night, but it had taken him that long to sort through the massive stack of paperwork from Admiral Simpson. At least now he had nothing planned for the rest of his evening.

His apartment was too hot, and the cold bottle of beer pressed to his bare thigh as he reached for the TV remote left some droplets of condensation. It felt good. He took another sip as his phone vibrated next to him. With a soft grunt, he abandoned the remote in favor of the phone and unlocked it with his pass code.

There was a new text from an unknown number. And there was a photo attached. He grimaced, afraid of what he was going to find if he tapped on it. He read the phone number twice, but it didn't sound familiar beyond the San Diego area code. He let his head tip back as he recalled the time he pissed Nat off and she gave his phone number to a random sailor in retaliation. Bradley really hoped he wasn't going to have to kindly ask someone to stop sending him dick pics like last time.

Before he lost the nerve, he tapped on the message, and his screen was suddenly filled with a photo of a woman who looked just a few years younger than him. And she was hot. He paused with his beer bottle halfway to his lips before letting it settle back down to his thigh.

Hey, Alan. It's me. So now you have my phone number, too.

Bradley didn't know who the hell Alan was, but he wasn't mad about the mix-up. This photo was something else. It almost looked like it was taken in the bathroom at the Hard Deck. The lighting was bad, and there was a paper towel dispenser in the background, but whoever you were.... damn, you were stunning. All pretty features and smiling like you had a secret.

It took him a moment to stop staring at the photo and return to the previous screen and your message. He was going to have to tell you that he wasn't Alan and that you had the wrong number, but he just sat there and tapped his phone case instead. He didn't even like the name Alan, but damn if he didn't want to be Alan right now. That lucky bastard had you interested in him.

Bradley was wondering how the mix-up happened in the first place as he drafted up a text to you. Only some sort of fucking idiot wouldn't check and double check that he gave you the right number. "Amateurs," he mumbled as he typed with a little smirk on his face.

Hey, sorry to inform you, but this actually isn't Alan. However, I wouldn't mind one bit if you kept sending me the photos that are meant for him.

He hit send and tossed his phone aside, assuming you'd just block him and move on with your night. He brought his beer bottle back to his lips and enjoyed the way the drink helped cool him down while he contemplated taking a shower, but when he reached for the remote again, his phone vibrated.

There was another message from the same number. Intrigued, Bradley unlocked his phone again, and he was pleased to see another text and another photo.

Hi, Not-Alan. Sorry about that! I hope you have a great night.

This photo was similar to the first one, except that you were flipping him the peace sign and winking which made Bradley laugh. You seemed fun, even through this limited interaction. And he was sure that was the ladies' bathroom at the Hard Deck, which pissed him off, because he got out of work so late he didn't feel like going out tonight. Maybe if he had been there, you wouldn't have been talking to Alan in the first place.

"Damn it." He was intrigued. He wanted to know more about this.

My night is substantially better now that I have two photos of you. So where did Alan get off to anyway? And why is he trying to steal my phone number?

This time Bradley was dying for another response. But it didn't come. He stared at his phone for a solid minute before returning to his beer and downing the rest of the bottle. Still nothing. He stood and made his way into the kitchen, tossing his empty into the recycling bin before getting another one from the fridge and eyeing up the food situation. He should probably eat something, but he swore he heard his phone vibrating. When he looked over to the couch, the screen was lit up.

He slammed the fridge door and opened the new bottle before heading back to his phone. There was no photo this time, but there was a new message.

I actually lost Alan in the crowd, so really, the man could be just about anywhere. And I don't think he was trying to steal your number at all, Not-Alan. He wrote it on my palm, and it smeared before I could add it to my phone.

"Okay," Bradley said out loud. "Now we're getting somewhere." He sat down on the couch with his beer on the coffee table and started a new message.

Alan should learn how to write neater in the future, because he's missing out here. You have to double check that someone who looks like you got the number right. Everyone knows that.

Bradley decided that he was going to have no shame for the night. Not as long as you kept writing back to him. He was contemplating how to save your number in his phone when another selfie with a message came through. You were out by the bar at the Hard Deck with a smile on your face, and you were holding up your palm complete with Bradley's smeared phone number.

Does this number look familiar, Not-Alan? Still no actual Alan in sight, by the way.

Bradley supposed that the 7 could have been mistaken for a 1. Or maybe Alan's phone number had a 5 that got smeared into a 6. It didn't really matter. Bradley was going to shoot his shot and hope Alan didn't resurface.

Good, Alan can just stay lost. What's your name, pretty girl?

Then he saved your number as Pretty Girl, and this time he did manage to turn the TV on while he waited with his phone in his hand. He muted the Clippers game and picked up his beer before promptly setting it back down again.

Pretty Girl: Not so fast, Not-Alan. You tell me your name first. And how old you are. And your blood type and the last four of your social security number.

Bradley laughed and started typing. He realized he hadn't stopped smiling for the last twenty minutes as he hit send.

I'm Bradley. I'm 34. O positive. 2305.

On a regular night, the basketball game would have held his attention, but tonight he couldn't stop looking at his phone. "Come on, Pretty Girl," he muttered, running his beer bottle along his thigh before taking a sip.

Pretty Girl: Okay, Bradley. You have my attention. Send me a selfie exactly where you are, and I'll think about telling you my name. No changing into something nicer. No fixing your hair. Just a selfie. Right now.

Bradley looked down at himself in just his black boxer briefs and mumbled, "If you say so." When he set his phone camera to selfie mode, he looked at the screen and realized his hair still looked pretty decent from work. So he went ahead and took a picture where he was wearing a bit of a skeptical smirk, and he sent it before he could think twice.

And now his heart was beating a little faster. This was probably where you'd stop responding. Oh hell, at least he went for it, but a few minutes later, you still hadn't sent anything back to him. Maybe he could have tried to hide the scars on his neck and cheek, but what was the point? Clearly you were sending him actual selfies you'd taken tonight, and he did exactly what you'd told him to. Then his phone vibrated.

Pretty Girl: Do you really expect me to believe that you're not just googling "hot shirtless guy with a mustache", downloading a photo, and trying to pass it off as yourself?

He tipped his head back and laughed. There was just something about you. He didn't even know your name or what your voice sounded like, but he could already tell he was going to like both of those things. If you ever told him or let him hear you.

That's really me. Promise. Will you tell me your name now? Or do I have to keep calling you Pretty Girl?

He was wondering if you were still at the bar, surrounded by guys like Alan who would love to take you home while you were chatting with him. And he hoped the next text would contain your name. But you just ignored him when you wrote back a few minutes later.

Pretty Girl: Prove you're not just sending some photos of a random hot dude. Go stand by your open refrigerator and take a selfie. Then take another one with your toothbrush.

"She's a handful," Bradley murmured as he stood with a smile. He carried his beer into the kitchen, opened his refrigerator and snapped a selfie where the fridge light somehow accentuated his features nicely. Then he left his beer on the counter while he went into his bathroom. He was actively trying not to smile for this one where he had his red toothbrush hanging out of the side of his mouth, but he was on the verge of laughing at how ridiculous his night turned out to be.

He typed up a message and attached both photos and then sent them off while he finished his beer at the kitchen counter, Clippers game forgotten.

What is this, Pretty Girl? A hostage negotiation? I already told you, that's really me.

It didn't take too long for you to respond this time, and Bradley wasn't even letting his screen dim long enough to need to unlock it now.

Pretty Girl: Are you naked in these photos?

"Jesus," he muttered. Of course he wasn't. Did you want him to be? Shit, he needed to stop thinking about that.

No! I'm wearing underwear. You told me not to get changed or anything.

He felt flushed and too warm as he set his phone down on the counter and went to open some windows. Then he walked a few laps around his apartment in an effort to chill the fuck out. He wasn't even with you, and you were under his skin.

When he returned to his phone, there was a selfie and a message waiting for him. In the photo, you were sipping a drink, and the way the straw pressed to your perfect lips had him practically moaning.

Pretty Girl: My friend thinks there's something wrong with me. I'm at a Navy bar in San Diego at the moment. There are hot guys galore, and yet I'm glued to my phone.

"Shit, shit, shit." Bradley thought about getting dressed and heading out to the bar himself. Then maybe he could hear you tell him your name in person right before he pulled the straw away from your mouth and kissed you.

How much longer are you going to be at the Hard Deck, Pretty Girl?

Bradley started heading for his bedroom closet when his phone vibrated in his hand.

Pretty Girl: How do you know I'm at the Hard Deck? Do I need to smash my phone to bits and go into hiding?

"Fuck," he grunted, typing so quickly he had to go back and fix several spelling errors before he could send it. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable, so he paused before getting any clothing out of his closet.

Because I'm in the Navy, and I live in San Diego. And I recognized the inside of the bathroom from the first photo you sent me. I swear I'm not creepy. You can ask Penny, the bartender and owner of that fine establishment. I spend enough time there. Show her my photo.

Bradley collapsed onto his bed with his forearm over his eyes and his phone clutched to his chest. He didn't have to check the time to know it had been a while since he texted you. He also didn't have to look at his phone to know it was after midnight now and that you and he had been chatting for almost two hours. Bradley jolted when the phone vibrated against his chest.

Pretty Girl: Okay. Alright. Penny is a sweetheart, and your story checks out. Also, she told me your call sign and then told me to have you verify what it is for my own peace of mind. So what is it, Bradley? And how do you know what the ladies' restroom here looks like?

Oh, he was going to owe Penny big time. He typed away as he lay sprawled out on his bed.

My call sign is Rooster. And as for your bathroom question.... are you really going to make me answer that?

Bradley closed his eyes and thought about the girl who had taken him into the bathroom with her last year. He was pretty sure she had brown hair, but other than that, he couldn't really recall. But he did remember looking at that paper towel holder on the wall and the framed photo of an F/A-14 that was hanging over it while he was in there with her.

He wouldn't mind taking a trip there with you, that was for sure. Or maybe you and he could skip the scandalous bar hookup and just go right to dinner or a movie. For some reason, he thought he might actually prefer that.

Pretty Girl: Be back soon. I'm getting a ride home.

Bradley mused out loud, "It better not be from Alan." Shit, he could have offered to go pick you up and make sure you got home safely. He'd only had those two beers all night, and now he was picturing some faceless guy named Alan driving you home and pawing at you.

He texted you back.

Let me know when you get home, okay? And you can always just call me.

With a sigh, he got out of bed and plugged his phone in, not sure what to expect at this point. He went back into the bathroom and used his red toothbrush. And then he went back to the living room and closed all the windows. When he was in his room again, he had no new notifications as he climbed in bed. He was about to text you again and check in when his phone rang.

CALL FROM Pretty Girl

Bradley was smiling as he answered. "Hey, Pretty Girl."

A soft laugh preceded your voice, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek as you said, "Hi, Bradley with the O positive blood. Are you trying to tell me that you were in that bar bathroom with a girl?"

He found himself laughing. "Can I plead the fifth?"

When you moaned softly, he dropped his phone onto the pillow and had to scramble to get it. "Oh, my god. Even your voice is sexy."

Okay. He should not be on the verge of touching himself after you spoke three whole sentences to him. "You make it home safely?" he asked, trying to play it cool as he thought about those photos you sent him.

"Mmhmm. A very nice man named Alan drove me home. He's right here next to me as I get changed for bed."

Bradley thought for a beat that he had met his match in you. "You better be lying. You know what, put Alan on the phone."

Your laughter filled him up as you said, "He's not really here. I had to ditch him, because he doesn't even have a mustache. Apparently that's a deal breaker for me now?"

Holy shit. Bradley was in trouble. He was getting turned on, and you weren't even really saying anything dirty. "You're killing me. You gonna tell me your name, Pretty Girl?"

"No. I think I'm going to hold onto it a little longer."

"Fine. But please explain to me how I've never seen you at the Hard Deck before. I'm certain I would remember your face."

Your voice sounded a little softer now as you said, "I just moved to Coronado. It was my first time at the bar."

If he hadn't worked so late today, Bradley would have probably been there tonight as well. "You had fun? You think you'll go back again?"

"Probably," you replied casually. "When do you think you'll be there?"

Bradley was so warm he was starting to sweat. "Pretty Girl, you just say the word, and I'll clear my whole damn calendar."

Your little sighs and soft giggles were going to be the death of him. "You know, I still have Alan's, or rather your phone number on my hand."

He imagined himself kissing your palm and rewriting his phone number. "Should be in my handwriting. I'll make sure I always bring a pen with me to the bar."

You cleared your throat softly, and Bradley imagined you climbing into bed. "Penny told me to watch out for some of the other guys. But she said you're okay."

"Just okay?"

"Actually, she called you a big, brown eyed puppy dog."

Bradley laughed. "I've been called worse."

"I'm sure you have," you replied quickly. "You deserve some sort of punishment for daring to look good with a mustache."

"It's a blessing and a curse. Now, are you going to send me another photo? Or are you going to just agree to meet me tomorrow night?"

He heard a rustling noise and then you softly said, "Alan is not going to like this one bit." And then another photo arrived, and this one had Bradley's mouth hanging open.

"Now it's my turn to ask if you're naked in this picture." He was taking in every inch of your exposed skin and your bedding tucked up to your collar bones. You took your makeup off for bed, and you looked cozy and intimate. And you were talking to him. You were letting him see this. Bradley had to actively think about not touching himself.

"Totally naked."

"Fuck."

"Send me another one?"

"Yeah," he grunted, swallowing hard as he tried to pose for another selfie just how he was, sprawled out on his pillow with his left arm bent and tucked back behind his head. But his cheeks looked flushed, and his eyes looked darker than usual. He was turned on.

Fuck it. He snapped the photo and sent it. And about ten seconds later, he was greeted with the strangled sound you made.

"It should be illegal for someone with that mustache to look so good. It's rude, honestly. Bradley, you're kind of rude, because now I want to know...."

He was hanging on your every word. "Know what, Pretty Girl?"

The call went completely silent before you said softly and sweetly, "What your mustache feels like...everywhere."

A soft, startled laugh escaped his lips. You were on the verge of some dirty talk now, he could just tell. And his cock was hard as he replied with, "I'd love to let you find out. But before you respond, I need to know how much you've had to drink tonight. I don't want to take advantage of anything here."

You whimpered on the other end of the call. "A mustache, brown eyes, and a gentleman? All Alan did for me was buy me those two Long Island iced teas."

Bradley grunted and said, "That's enough about Alan. Why don't you go ahead and tell me where you'd like to feel my mustache first, Pretty Girl."

You squeaked and said, "I want to feel it rough along my skin right below my ear while you whisper to me. Oh my god, I can't believe I said that out loud. I should just go to bed."

"Don't hang up," Bradley said, panting with need now. "Tell me more."

"Okay," you sighed with another little squeak. "I want to feel it on my lips. While I'm sitting in your lap, licking the taste of that beer you drank from your mouth."

"Holy shit," he groaned, palming himself through his boxer briefs.

"I know," you whined with need. "And I want to feel it on the back of my neck while you do filthy things to me. And I don't even know you!"

"You will," he guaranteed. "Please, tell me what time I can meet you tomorrow."

Bradley listened to the rustle of your sheets as he waited. Then you finally said, "Seven o'clock? At the Hard Deck?"

"I'll be there, Pretty Girl. I can't wait to see you."

--------------------------

It was barely even 6:30, but you were already at the bar all made up and wearing a cute dress. Penny recognized you right away, which was kind of nice and kind of embarrassing. When she asked if you wanted another Long Island, you waved her off and said, "Nothing yet. I'm meeting someone."

Her eyes lit up as she asked, "Is it Rooster?"

You'd barely slept all night, preferring to look at the four selfies he'd sent you after you ended the call around two. There was a little more dirty talk, sure, but you and he also learned a bit more about each other. And now you were going to meet this naval aviator who was originally from Virginia but loved the Los Angeles Clippers face to face.

"Yeah. It's Rooster."

Penny looked truly delighted. "You have nothing to worry about. He's very sweet."

"Tell that to the butterflies," you muttered as you placed one hand on your stomach for a beat, willing the nerves to dissipate as you walked away. You'd told Bradley you wanted his mustache on your body. In several places. And then he told you he thought you were so pretty and fun that he wanted to kiss you everywhere. And right now you were just mystified as to how this could have possibly happened only a week after you moved to this neighborhood. And you still didn't know what happened to Alan after you went to the ladies' bathroom and saved the wrong number in your phone.

You laughed when you thought about it, and then you ran your hands along the fabric of your dress. You were so antsy, your palms were sweaty. You looked down at yourself and just got more nervous. Bradley hadn't seen much of your body in the photos you'd sent to him. You'd seen plenty of his though, and he looked tall and muscular even next to his damn refrigerator. And his face was gorgeous, right down to that sinful looking mustache.

And you were just... you. Alan was really more your speed with his nerdy glasses and messy hairstyle and his lack of ability to even grow any sort of facial hair at all. You just hoped that Bradley wouldn't take one look at you in person and walk right back out of the bar.

You were about to tell Penny that you thought you needed a drink after all when the door caught your eye, and Bradley strolled into the bar like he owned the place. "Oh...fuck," you whispered, gaping at him as he ran his fingers through his hair. The photos hadn't even done him justice. He had to be over six feet tall, and he was so broad and muscular, he looked like he could pick you up and toss you around a little bit. "Shit." He was wearing some snug fitting jeans and a tropical print shirt like he just knew he could pull off the most ridiculous look. "Damn." He was glancing around, trying to find you while you started scouring the room unsuccessfully for another exit.

You were trapped in here, and he was walking further into the bar now. And you didn't think you could hide halfway behind this couple who was making out for very much longer.

As Bradley's eyes scanned the crowd again, he looked a little apprehensive. His brow was scrunched, and he checked the time on his watch. You knew it was almost seven. So you took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and then you scooted one step to your left. When his gaze came your way again, his eyes landed on you. And then his face softened. The apprehension melted away, and he smiled a cute and somehow sexy little grin that made you whimper.

Now he was heading your way, his gait sure and steady. And then he was just a few feet away and you could see the scars on his face that you'd studied all night in the photos. And you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes that somehow the selfies didn't capture. And then he was talking, and his voice was even better in person.

"Pretty Girl."

Okay, so he'd seen you up close, and he wasn't running away. That had to be a good sign, right? You managed to say just one slightly breathless word. "Hi." And then his smile grew, and he was closing the space between your body and his. He was reaching for your face and running one rough thumb along your cheek. And then he kissed you.

And the soft scrape of his mustache was even better than all of the ways you'd spent your night imagining it might feel. You couldn't help but return his kiss, and somehow your hands ended up pressed to the front of him, sliding up to his chest.

When he broke the kiss, he stayed close, his lips not far from your face. He covered your hands with his, keeping them on his body. And then he leaned close to your ear, his mustache scraping along your soft skin there as he whispered, "Tell me your name, Pretty Girl. I'm dying here."

Soft laughter bubbled out of you as he pulled away from you a bit, and those butterflies were going wild. His eyes were fixed on your face, begging for an answer this time as he stroked your hands with his thumbs. And then you told him, and he tried your name out on his tongue a few times with that grin that you liked so much. He kept saying it softly until you kissed him this time, and then he guided your arms around his neck.

"Listen," he said in that raspy voice that you'd love to focus on all night. "I have no problem staying here for a while if you want to. I bet you could even persuade me to join you in the ladies' room."

"Sounds tempting," you told him with a smirk.

"It really does. But we could also just ditch the bar and grab dinner instead? Maybe watch the Clippers game and have a drink at my place? I'm a little worried Alan might show up here and try to lure you away, if I'm being honest."

You practically snorted with laughter. "I can't even really remember what Alan looks like. He was totally gone from my mind after the first selfie you sent me. Let's get out of here."

He took you by the hand. "Anything you want, Pretty Girl."

-------------------------

I love dreamy loverboy Bradley, and I love Pretty Girl too. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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miniimight · 7 months

Text

MISSING A DATE . they forget about a big date with you and realize it too late

with deku + bakugou (in their pro-hero era)

one thing about him is that he always tried his absolute best to make time for you amid his busy schedule. you understood that you weren't the only one that demanded his attention due to his work and were okay with that. as long as you still got your 'me-time' with him, where he blocked out the world and focused on you and only you, you couldn't ask for a more perfect relationship.

but this was your last straw. you had forgiven the late nights, the last-minute cancellations—gotten used to being alone in your luxurious apartment, which only reminded you of the one thing you were missing.

you had planned this date for months. a set time where you both blocked off time that night to just be with each other in a word that tried everything to keep you apart.

"remember tonight, baby." you chirped as you kissed him goodbye that morning.

he hummed and gave you a tight hug before leaving.

you felt giddy as you prepared yourself, slipping into your best clothes and fixing yourself in the mirror. you felt as you did on the night of your first date with him. you couldn't be more excited.

then, you waited. and waited. the restaurant happily sat you next to a window, the streetlamps twinkling romantically against the dusky backdrop.

you waited some more. soon your bright posture slouched as your checked your phone. messaged him a couple times, called a few times more. he's probably just running late.

families came and went, and before you knew it, hours had passed.

you burned in embarrassment as you stared at the empty chair across from you, focusing your frustration as if he was sitting there. but even that didn't give you relief. every one of your thoughts and feelings came to the same conclusion—

he hadn't shown up.

IZUKU

you ordered some food to-go. why not get something out of this outing? besides, the food would do good to distract you from the dread swirling in your stomach. you flashed the server a quick smile before dragging your feet out the restaurant.

you threw your bag, coat, and shoes to the ground as you walked into your apartment, uncaring of where they ended up. you needed the couch, a movie, and the food you were carrying.

a few hours later, izuku showed up. you heard the door slide open and the jangle of his keys. his heavy sigh was familiar and it almost made you feel bad for feeling so angry about him missing this date. almost.

you made no move to greet him as he entered the living space, a big grin plastered on his face. "you look pretty."

the compliment was just salt on the wound, ironically. you hummed, remaining laser focused on your show.

he tugged off his white gloves and set them on the table. "what's got you all dressed up tonight, hmm?" he sat next to you, running his hands up and down your arm.

you just handed him one of the takeout boxes. "want some?" you said dryly.

"what's this—? oh, i recognize the name of this restaurant..." he surveyed the box in his hands, his voice becoming quieter as he sunk into his thoughts. "oh."

you got off the couch.

"oh." he repeated, staring at the takeout box incredulously. "baby, don't tell me tonight was—"

"it was." you said simply, walking into the bedroom. you couldn't bear to look at him.

"fuck." you heard him hiss. a light thudding followed as he hurried after you. "y/n, god, i'm so sorry—don't tell me you went there alone—"

"izuku, i don't care anymore." you turned around abruptly, making him skid to a halt before you. his expression read shock. "i don't."

he slumped and inched closer to you. "no, don't say that—"

"you don't give me a reason to care anymore." you laughed wryly though your lips trembled. "i—" your breath hitched and you turned away from him.

his voice sounded watery as he tried to turn your body to face him again. "i'm so sorry, there was a hangout at the agency after work today and... shit, i totally forgot—"

"a fucking party?" you snapped. "you blew off the date you and i planned for months in advance because we never get to spend time together anymore to hang out with the same goddamn people you see every single day?"

he groaned. "i know, i know—"

"you don't know, izuku." your voice quivered. "you don't, okay?" you sobbed.

he was stunned to silence, unsure of how to right something so horribly wrong.

"you don't know what it's like to always be waiting. i'm always waiting for you. you always have something better to do." you sobbed, sitting on the edge of the bed. you really didn't want to have this conversation with him; you knew you'd break down sobbing. you thought it would've been best if he didn't come back home at all.

he knelt beside you, resting his head where your knees hung over the bed. he stared up at your heartbroken face with tears threatening to flow. "there is nothing that deserves my time more than you." he said firmly.

"you say that as if it's true." you said quietly. "but you don't even..." you looked away from him to reign in your emotions.

he frowned deeply. he knew it was all his fault. you reminded him this morning and he still forgot. you had no reason to believe the words coming out of his mouth. that doesn't mean he's going to stop trying to prove them.

he rested his head against your stomach and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "you have every right to hate me right now, y/n. you've been lonely and overlooked and i haven't done anything to make things better."

you refused to look at him.

he tilted his head with hopes of catching your gaze. "y/n, i mean it. there's nothing that deserves my time more than you. anyone else would've left me. you've given me love and understanding with my hero work..." he choked on his words, finally facing the reality of his relationship. "and i've just taken it and left you behind."

you sniffled.

he stood, bending at the waist to kiss your forehead. "i love you. so much. it's time i start proving it, huh?"

your eyes flickered to his, questioning evident on your expression.

he smiled sadly. "japan has many heroes. i'm sure kacchan and todoroki can handle things without me for a while."

you huffed and rolled your eyes. "very funny. you're a hero, izuku, it's in your nature to shoulder everything." you pouted, guilt threatening to inhabit your thoughts.

he shook his head, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "i'm dead serious. the world doesn't need me everyday, you do. and i'll adjust my schedule to suit."

"but..." you groaned. "god, why do i feel guilty now?" you mumbled.

"stop it. you're not keeping me away from anything. this was long overdue. nothing would make me happier," he grinned and kissed you again before tackling you in a hug.

BAKUGOU

you left the restaurant without another word, feeling so sick to the stomach that you couldn't even bear to go home to the empty apartment.

you tried desperately to convince yourself that something important was holding him up. he didn't forget. he just had some life-threatening epic battle that he needed to attend to. he didn't forget.

you crashed at a friend's house for the night, after a very satisfying rant session about your dilemma. they were a great soundboard and didn't try to regulate your emotions. in a lot of cases, just letting your feelings fly free was the best way to cope with a situation out of your hands.

rrrring rrring

you saw the caller ID and was tempted to ignore the call. but your hands moved on their own, accepting it and putting the phone to your ear.

"y/n l/n." bakugou snarled on the other side. "where the fuck are you?"

"a friend's house."

"why?"

you shrugged, hoping your unbothered reaction would be translated across the phone. "wanted to be with someone last night after my boyfriend stood me up."

silence. a very long silence. you heard him cuss under his breath before he replied. "yesterday was our date."

you hummed.

"y/n. come home."

"i'm good here, really."

"i'm serious, come home."

"why? the off-chance of seeing you there?"

his voice grew more desperate. "y/n—" his breath caught in his throat. "i'm home. i'm waiting for you. we can do something today, maybe—"

"katsuki, you can't keep treating me like a test that you can make up whenever you fail the real thing. you're not there when it fucking matters." you snapped, your resolve crumbling as your eyes started to water.

he gave a weighted sigh. "you're right. i've been treating you like shit."

you scoffed.

"but you're always on my mind. every time i see you asleep when you were trying to wait up for me, i—" he inhaled deeply, trying to keep it together. "i'm not the best boyfriend. believe me, i know that. and i'm losing you... i can see that, too."

you waited.

he sniffed. "come home, y/n. please. i—"

you hung up. you tossed your phone aside and stretched. you gently wiped at your cheeks, realizing how many tears streaked them.

after thanking your friend for their hospitality, you decided to go home. you dreaded the conversation that awaited you. uncertainty riddled your thoughts; was this the end?

you opened the door and immediately heard pounding footsteps to meet you. bakugou stood there, looking uncharacteristically stressed and awkward.

you just gave him a passing glance as you slipped off your shoes, hanging your coat up. you walked past him, going to the washroom to refresh yourself with a much needed shower.

as the water ran down your skin, you began to feel guilty. he was a hero. he saved lives. and you were crying over a missed date with him? when his mere presence meant the safety of those around him?

no matter how valid your frustration and sadness was, you couldn't help the creeping guilt from overwriting your feelings.

you stepped out of the shower, then dressed comfortably for a night in. when you opened the bathroom door, he was waiting outside like a puppy.

you sighed. "i'm sorry." you finally said.

his neck snapped to look at you. "why the fuck are you apologizing?"

"you're a hero. i knew what i'd be signing up for when i got into a relationship with you—"

"are you crazy?" he growled, grabbing your cheeks and tilting your face to look at him. he searched your eyes with concern, as if there was something wrong with you. "you don't need to apologize. my being a hero is no excuse for the way i've been treating you."

you frowned. "but—"

"no." he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your head. "you—" he laughed dryly. "i can't believe you thought to apologize to me. you're really crazy."

you opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. "i'm so lucky to have you. seriously. i can't live without you and i will do everything to prove that from now on."

you pulled away and looked at him. "you better mean it."

he gave you a lopsided grin. "i do. thanks..." he trailed off.

you cocked your head to the side. "for...?"

he kissed you gently. "staying." he hugged you tightly, his next words barely a whisper, "i'm always gonna be there for you."

amidst a couple of tears, you believed him.

#bnha #mha #izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #deku #deku x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #mha comfort #mha angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #midoriya izuku

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simonrileysfavteacup · 1 month

Text

The Scare

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: Angst (ooooo, my first time writing angst), comfort, break in, attempted kidnapping, simon in ghost mode, graves being a pussy, simon being a good bf

Summary: You thought it was Simon, he had come home early from his mission, but there were 2 pairs of footsteps walking around your home.

Everyone knew Lieutenant Riley was cold. He was ruthless, cruel, heartless, and so much more.

But there was one thing that made him soft. One person.

You.

Barely anyone knew that the Lieutenant had picked himself up a hot little thing and managed to keep her. The two of you had been together for 3 years now and he was so close to proposing. He was ready to spend his life with you. He was ready to make you his and give you his last name.

But what happens when someone who shouldn’t know about you finds out about you?

***

Graves knew. Somehow he knew. He mentioned your name to Simon, “Ghost, that is not nice. How would your pretty little (Y/N) think of that?”

Simon shivered.

And then he realised.

Graves was coming for you.

***

You were curled up in bed, music playing in the background as you read one of your favourite romance books Simon had bought you. The lights were off, a single three-wick Bath and Body Works candle on your bedside table. It was peaceful. Cosy.

You were on the 15th chapter before you head footsteps and your front door opening.

Simon isn’t supposed to be home yet.

You check your phone.

Simon would’ve messaged if he was coming home.

There was no message. And he wouldn’t surprise you like this.

You sit up, turning off the music. The footsteps are doubled. There’s two people.

Simon wouldn’t come home with someone else. This wasn’t Simon walking around your apartment.

With trembling hands, you reach for Simon’s hidden knife, concealed under his side of the bed. You clutch in it a sweaty palm, silent praying that the person walking around your apartment is a friend, not a foe. The footsteps get closer. You take a deep breath.

The doorknob jiggles. Your anxiety skyrockets. There’s murmurs before a foot hits the door.

1 kick…

2 kicks…

3 kicks before the door finally busts open, shattering the lock. 2 men, dressed in black military uniform, hold up their guns to aim for your head. You suck in a breath.

“That her?” The first man asks.

“Think so. She fits the description,” the other one responds.

You shiver. They barely acknowledge you as they speak.

One of them steps closer to you, reaching for the knife in your hand. You strike, stabbing his wrist through the jacket he wears. He yells, “Bitch stabbed me!”

He pushes you, reaching down to grab his wrist, pulling out the knife. The other one walks over while you’re distracted, talking a hold of your arms and tying them behind your back. You yell before you hear the sound of duct tape ripping. Within seconds, there’s a piece over your mouth. You try to yell. No use.

They begin to speak to each other fast, so fast you can barely catch their words.

Help me…

The one you stabbed wraps up his wrist with a cloth, before picking up your legs. The other picks up your torso.

You thrash around in their arms, trying to get free as you kick the one you stabbed, He holds your feet together with one hand, barking out a quick, “Stop it!”

He has an American accent, you notice. They carry you out of your bedroom as you continue to thrash around. They almost make it to the front door.

But the door is wide open. And in the door frame stands a tree of a man, face covered by a mask of a skull.

Simon…

Your eyes fill with tears of joy.

Simon’s eyes are as dark as the night as he stares at the scene.

The men immediately drop you, making you hit your head on the floor, a cry of pain dropping from your lips. Your vision goes blurry as you hear Simon step closer, fists clenched.

You roll over onto your side, trying to get your hands out of their bonds, trying to grab your head to ease the pain. You suck in a sharp breath. Your vision stays blurry, barely making out the black blobs fighting in front of you.

From the blobs you see, the one with the mask is bigger. And he’s winning.

You think…

One of the men drop down next to you, a new red blob on the ground making it’s way into your vision. You count to fifteen before the other man drops down too.

You count to eight before you feel a hand pull the duct tape off your mouth. You let out a loud sob of relief. Simon…

He unties your wrists, gently massaging them as you roll over again, grabbing your head. You close your eyes as you let out cries of pain.

It hurts. Your wrists hurt. Your mouth hurts.

But the pain in your head is indescribable. It shoots from the back to the front, meeting at the centre of your forehead. It shoots back. And then back to the front again. And back again. And front again. And over and over.

You can barely hear your cries anymore over the feeling of pain.

A pair of arms pick you up bridal style, as if you weigh nothing. The black blob holding you takes you to the bedroom, setting you down on the bed. The blob walks away again.

You count to thirty before it-he-returns, holding an ice pack, a glass of water, and a few advil pills. He sits on the edge of the bed, setting down the items.

He takes off his mask, vest, gear, and everything else until nothing remains but a shirt and his tactical pants. Simon tips up your chin, placing one of the pills on your tongue, pushing it back with some water. “Swallow.”

You do as he says.

A deep exhale leaves your body.

He presses the ice pack to your head. “How bad is i’? Do I need to call a’ ambulance?”

“N-no…” you blink back tears.

“You sure, lovie? ‘t was a bad fall,” he sighs, smiling sadly at you. “‘m so sorry ‘is happened to ya. Ya are the most important thin’ to me and Graves, bitch that ‘e is, took advantage of tha’. Soap and Gaz ‘re in the kitchen, gettin’ rid of the garbage. Tol’ them not to come in ‘ere. Ya need rest, okay? Bu’ don’ fall ‘sleep, ya migh’ have a concussion.”

You nod to the best of your ability. He takes a hold of your hand, kissing your wrist. “‘M so so so sorry. Ya didn’ deserve ‘hat, okay? Ya so perfec’ and special to me…”

He looks down at the bloody knife on the ground.

“Ya try to protec’ yourself?” You nod in response to his words. “Good girl. Ya atleas’ did some damage…slowed them down enough jus’ in time for me to get ‘ere.”

“Ho-how did you know I w-was in…” you don’t bother to finish your sentence.

“Graves sai’ ya name to me. I took a guess ‘e was gone go for ya. Rushed here with the other three. They gone go on the mission without me. Need to stay ‘ere, make sure ya okay.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. You smile, softly.

“Thank you…Si…” you nod. “For everything.”

“Always gone be there to save ya,” He nods. “When ya get bette’, I gone teach ya how to properly use that knife…and a few more things, just in case.”

“Sounds good, Si,” you hold back a giggle.

#simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley #ghost imagine #ghost call of duty #simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #cod ghost

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cherrieflavouredheadcanons · 27 days

Note

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all.

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again. Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke.

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him.

You were his family after all.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail spoilers #hsr spoilers #aventurine #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai aventurine #kakavasha #aventurine fluff #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x you #hsr x you #hsr 2.1

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starkwlkr · 1 month

Text

i wait for you | sebastian vettel

part 1 part 2

this is the last part in this mini series!! thanks for reading <3 some lines are taken from the movie babylon :) (babylon, you will always be famous)

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

update: i decided to make this into a series, thanks for reading! you can read it here!

INSTAGRAM

liked by sebastianvettel, aussiegrit and 766,388 others

yourusername hi, i would like to start by saying thank you for all the kind messages i’ve been receiving over the past couple days. this is my only account on any social media. i know it’s been years since you’ve heard from me so here’s an update:

as of last week, i am now divorced and living happier than ever. i do a lot of reading and baking. i still think about my time on the track and all the wonderful i met.

until next time, take care.

comments on this post have been limited

TIME SKIP TO ABU DHABI 2022

you weren’t sure if you made the right decision, yet here you were in the aston martin garage about to watch sebastian’s last race. the aston martin team made sure photographers weren’t in your face with their cameras, which you thanked them for. yeah, your former job had paparazzi following you almost everywhere but you had gotten used to the quietness.

you hadn’t seen sebastian all day, it was killing you inside. you felt like this was a bad decision, but before you could leave the aston martin garage, you saw sebastian enter with britta by his side. you heard him speaking to her, but he stopped once he spotted you.

britta noticed the look sebastian gave you. it was like seeing two teenagers in love. “i’ll leave you two alone.” she said then left.

sebastian watched as you played with the ring on your finger. it was a habit he noticed in 2010 and somehow you never changed. “we can go in my driver’s room if you’d like. it’s more private.”

“yeah, i’d like that.” you reply. together, you and sebastian walked to his driver’s room.

several people from the aston martin team were secretly rooting for you two, it was clear that they knew about your history. even if they were big fans of you, they didn’t walk up to you to ask for a photo, not when you were with sebastian on the most important night of his life.

you finally made it to his driver’s room. it was small, but it was just perfect for you and sebastian to have a conversation in. you and sebastian sat on the tiny bed. “are you nervous?” you asked.

“more excited actually. it really is nice that you’re here. thank you for coming.” he said.

“i didn’t think you would want me here.”

“why?”

you looked at him. there he was staring at you with his beautiful blue eyes. “i thought you hated me all these years.”

“i could never hate you, y/n. i never stopped loving you even when you told me you were engaged, when i found out you said i do to someone else.” he confessed. “i’ve carried this love for you in my heart for many years. but you were happy.”

“i was happy . . then he broke my heart and i gave him the ring back.” you replied. “i realized I didn’t want that life with him . . . because i want that life with you and i know it all seems so sudden but it’s always been you.”

in that moment, seemed to stand still as he processed the weight of her words. he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of hope blossom within him—a hope that, against all odds, maybe, just maybe, they could finally be together.

you could feel a tear run down your cheek. “god, i’m sorry. i dumped all this on you before your last race—”

then she felt sebastian’s lips on hers. as their lips met, the world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

for you, it was a revelation—a confirmation of the love she had always felt but never dared to acknowledge it. for sebastian, it was a homecoming—a return to the one person who had always held his heart captive, even when you belonged to another.

their moment had been interrupted by a knock on the door then by sebastian’s father, norbert vettel, asking if he was ready yet.

“i’ll be out in a second.” sebastian replied. he turned to look at you. “i am considering that a good luck kiss.”

“you don’t need luck, you’re sebastian vettel.” you playfully rolled your eyes.

“well whenever i’m with you, i always feel lucky.”

and with that, you and sebastian exited his driver’s room.

SEB’S LAST RACE

you were feeling lots of emotions. you watched as sebastian finished his post race interview with jenson. you watched from a monitor inside the aston martin garage, you could see the sadness in sebastian’s eyes. you knew the feeling all too well.

“go meet him.” norbert said. “he needs you right now.”

“but—”

“go.” he assured you.

so you walked to the pit lane since sebastian was already making his way back to the garage. once he spotted you, he smiled. you made it clear that now you didn’t care if you were photographed, all you wanted was to be with sebastian.

“i really want to kiss you right now.” sebastian said when he walked up to you. many photographers and journalists were crowded around you, making sure to capture the moment between you two.

“then do it.”

and then, without another word, he pulled her in for a kiss. as his lips met yours, you felt a rush of warmth flood your entire being. as they finally pulled away, your eyes met in a silent understanding. sebastian took your hand and led you to back to the garage where his team was waiting for him.

“i’m so proud of you.” you whispered to him.

“you won’t be saying that when i’m bothering you constantly now that i’ll be around you more.” he joked.

“and i’ll be fine with that.” you reply with a smile.

sebastian turned to face you. he knew it was still early, but he always kept his promises. “one day, i’m going to marry you. i’m going to make you so happy everyday, okay? it’s my only job.”

hearing sebastian’s words filled you with a sense of comfort, joy and reassurance. you suddenly felt more alive and complete than ever before.

“i love you, more deeply than i ever thought possible.” you reply.

and suddenly, everything felt right in the world.

@woozarts @hc-dutch @lightdragonrayne @multiplefandomwritings @jggykhug09090 @neivivenaj @kissesandmartinis @barnestatic @avythef1addict @sam-is-lost @dampcelery0294 @shineforever19 @c-losur3 @lifeless-firefly @horsiegek @ares10156 @purplephantomwolf

#formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #sebastian vettel instagram au #sebastian vettel smau #f1 instagram au #sv5 #sebastian vettel fluff #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic

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rafecameroninterlude · 2 months

Text

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

pairing: rafe cameron x camgirl!reader

summary: ❝screw your anonymity, loving me is all you need to feel like i do.❞ — rafe cameron is your top donator, having been tuning into your live streams for several months. one night of texting and spilling too much details has you and rafe running into each other at a party, and knowing exactly who eachother is. even when you’ve only ever streamed anonymously.

warnings: shy!reader, mentions of porn, masturbation (with a toy), praise, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, solo orgasm, squirting, flirty text messages, reader is super nervous but finds the whole thing thrilling nonetheless

word count: 3.2k

a/n: series masterlist <3 part two here

rafe was hooked the second he saw your pussy on his screen. the way he found your live was nothing but pure accident, but when he heard your pretty voice and your even prettier moans, he couldn’t look away. that was about seven months ago, and he’s been tuning into your lives ever since, even making himself your top gifter so he had a special banner next to his name when he joined your chat. tonight was no different, he’d pop in, compliment the hell out of you, spam you with gifts and just have your moans playing in his headphones as he finished up some work for cameron development on the computer.

rafe never jacked off to porn, considering every woman he’s ever prompted to have sex with bent at his will. apart of him thought that’s why he liked you so much. your identity was a secret so he didn’t have the slightest clue as to what you looked like off camera. there was anticipation, desire, he craved you like no other; and he didn’t even know anything personal about you. “hello everyone! i’m going to wait a few minutes to let more people join before i get started.” rafe took in your cute lingerie, loving the sheer material of your top.

you wore white knee high socks with pink bows at the top. “fuck,” he whispered to himself, typing up a quick greeting.

rafecam: hey gorgeous

it was quiet for a few seconds before your perfectly manicured hand waved at the camera. “hi, rafe! always lovely to see you in here.” you smiled even though your face wasn’t in frame. truth be told, you actually enjoyed having him in your live. besides ensuring you three to seven hundred dollars a stream, he had a way with words, most, if not all of his comments always made butterflies flutter in your stomach. you watched as the numbers rose on your view count, your fingers teasing the waistband of your panties.

rafe groaned, quickly locking his door as he stood his phone up on his work desk. “alright, it looks like i have a good amount of you in here, so i have some exciting news to share with all of you!” you angled the camera so your ass looked fuller. “my top donators can now message me privately! i’m very excited to interact personally with some of you.. rafe especially.” you giggled, watching the influx of angry emojis flooding your chat. rafe bit his lip, sending you a hundred dollars. “ah!” you squealed, bouncing up and down in your plush chair, rafe’s eyes glued to your tits.

“see! he takes care of me every stream..” you trailed off, leaning back in your seat, bringing your knees up to your chest. “i missed everyone so much,” you half moaned, letting your tits spill out of your bra, “i haven’t touched myself since last week.. i think i’m extra sensitive this evening.” you parted your legs, your pantyclad cunt on full display. rafe licked his lips, noting the small damp spot between your folds. “i’ve been thinking.. since it’s friday i’ll let you guys choose what i do today.” you clicked your mouse a couple times, a poll popping up on the screen.

y/n wants you to pick..

- try out a new toy w/ me <3

- feeling simple, only fingers today

rafe thought for a second, instead of choosing between the two, he proposed something different.

rafecam: how about you fuck yourself with that pretty clear pink dildo of yours and moan my name when you cum?

you read his comment, your thighs rubbing together. rafe felt the corner of his lip lift as he watched you get up, coming back with the same dildo he was talking about. “i don’t normally do name tributes, but you’ve been pretty consistent rafe.. so why not?” you watched as donations started coming in, all asking for a name tribute. rafe felt himself getting annoyed with the other men in your stream, sending you no where near as the amount he sends you, asking you to say their name too.

without hesitation, rafe sent you three hundred dollars, with the added note; thank you beautiful. “what?!” you gasped, having reached your money goal for the day. “you’re too sweet, thank you,” you emphasized the ‘you.’, moving the camera up so the lower half of your face was now in frame. rafe sat mesmerized by the fullness of your lips, and that pretty smile before you brought the dildo up to your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. “fuck,” rafe felt himself getting hard in his shorts as you started taking inch by inch into your throat. you moaned, and for the first time ever he felt jealous that it wasn’t his cock instead.

you smiled, tapping the damned thing on your tongue before you got back in your original position, this time your underwears were gone, and your cunt sparkled with your slick. you ran the tip down your folds, teasing your entrance as rafe watched intensely. a whine cut through the air as you inserted the toy, your fingers circling your clit. rafe glanced at your hands, you had french tips on your nails and silver rings on your fingers, he even saw a small bow tattoo on the side of your middle finger.

“i don’t know everyone, this feels like it might be a short stream.” you laughed nervously, your eyebrows knitting in pleasure as you kept a steady pace. “mhmm, fuck,” you gasped, hitting the spot that made your eyes screw shut. rafe’s jaw ticked as he tried his best to ignore his growing erection. “this feels so good, i haven’t been fucked in so long..” you were telling the truth. you’ve been a homebody since exams started and you really weren’t the one for casual hook ups either. you could barely contain your moans as you rubbed your clit faster. rafe found your struggling not to cum too soon to be the sexiest thing he's ever seen.

your obvious desperation to get yourself off, paired with the restrain to let yourself over the edge was truly a glorious sight. rafe ached in his boxers, refusing to be like every other loser in your livestream. you felt the familiar knot in your stomach, your head rolling to the side as you started to hear your heartbeat in your ears. rafe could tell by the way you were clenching around the toy that he now hated, you were close to finishing. rafe didn't know what he wanted to do to more now; edge you for hours until you're begging him for his cock, or making you cum so many times that you cry.

"i don't think i could hold off anymore," you cried, your thighs shaking as you plummeted into pure bliss. "rafe!" you cried, cumming harder than you could currently handle. "oh, my god," his name falling from your lips is forever going to be ingrained in his brain. you shook violently, still fucking yourself as you felt a pressure in your lower abdomen. "i think i'm go-" you screamed, feeling a gush come from your cunt. rafe's mouth fell open as if he was moaning silently. "what a fucking show." he whispered to himself, your legs trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "i've never done that before." your voice was weak as you laid with your thighs open, your pussy still on full display. rafe watched your tits rise and fall with each breath, your hands resting on your stomach as you gathered yourself.

after a minute, you sat up, pulling a pink robe over yourself as you blew a kiss to the camera. "i really enjoyed tonight's stream, but if you can't tell i'm exhausted," you laughed, your hair falling to your waist, "i'm going to go clean up and get cozy for bed, but i hope to see some messages from my top donators now! all you have to do is click the message icon when you view my page. until next time!" you ended the live, a sigh falling from your lips.

rafe stared at the blank screen, his cock painfully hard. he decided he was going to clean up as well, a cold shower is what he needed right now. although the idea seemed to be a good one, he still fisted his cock to the echoing sound of you moaning his name. during your own shower, you wondered if rafe would message you, apart of you really hoped he did. even though you hadn't viewed his account, he seemed like someone you could have good conversation with. it wasn't until after you got in your pj's, did your skin care routine, and settled into your sheets that you pulled your laptop up, where twelve messages awaited. rafecam being one of them. saving the best for last, you answered the other messages first, opening rafe's with a smile on your lips.

[9:12 PM] rafecam: i won't lie, i debated with myself if whether or not i should send you a message. i don't watch porn, i never masturbated, i didn't have to. but tonight i found myself doing both of those things. just thought i'd let you know that.

you read his message several times, examining the words one by one until it was brainrot. it's rare for a man to say he doesn't have to pleasure himself, presumably because he has willing candidates at the snap of a finger. clicking his username, you scrolled through his public information, wanting to know something, anything about this mystery of a, quite generous, viewer. age; twenty-two, joined; july of 2023, resides in; outer banks. your eyes widened, your heart dropping in panic. he was so much closer than you thought. maybe a little too much. you were just one ferry away on the mainland. your roommate, however, is from outer banks herself. fuck, what if she knew this guy? you breathed out, staring at nothing as you started to rethink your life choices.

what are the chances that you would even see each other? there's nothing on outer banks that would make you go over there, and vice versa, or at least that's what you told yourself when you typed up a response.

[9:20 PM] y/n: well i'm happy that you messaged me. as for getting yourself off to the thought of me? i would say that means i'm doing something right lol.

[9:22 PM] rafecam: most definitely. are you going to sleep already?

[9:23 PM] y/n: not yet, i thought about watching a movie or something before then. you?

[9:25 PM] rafecam: nah, i'm actually catching up on a lot of work right now, it's kind of stressing me out. nothing new though.

you bit your lip, hesitating to send your next reply, not knowing if you'd be getting too personal or not.

[9:28 PM] y/n: what kind of work? are you currently in school?

[9:30 PM] rafecam: no actually, i co-own my dad's company and he has me in charge of ordering all of our supplies and taking inventory, boring stuff really :/

[9:32 PM] y/n: sounds like you're a very hard worker, i like that. i've been having to catch up on some work myself..

[9:32 PM] rafecam: school?

[9:35 PM] y/n: unfortunately yes lol. i'm majoring in psychology so it keeps me very occupied.

[9:36 PM] rafecam: is that why you stream?

you sucked in a breath. honestly, school was the only reason why you decided to start your channel. your parents helped you out a lot, already having your semesters and books covered, but it was up to you to make extra money for yourself.

[9:40 PM] y/n: yes. i try my best though.

[9:41 PM] rafecam: i respect it. well, i'll let you do your thing, i'm hoping to finish what i have to do tonight so i won't have to worry about it tomorrow. the last thing i want to do is work on my birthday lol.

[9:44 PM] y/n: omg!! happy early birthday <3 am i the first one to tell you?

[9:45 PM] rafecam: lol yes, thank you sweetheart.

[9:47 PM] y/n: aww you're welcome. i'm gonna send you a little gift for yourself, these are never before seen, i hope you like them.

you attached four images from your own camera roll, two with lingerie and two fully nude. a lot of the times you took pictures but just for yourself mostly. it wouldn't hurt to share these, especially with someone who contributed a lot to you. rafe leaned back in his chair, admiring the photos you sent him.

[9:50 PM] rafecam: so much for showering lol, thank you for these, gorgeous. goodnight.

“will you please just go out with me? we’ve been roommates for almost a year and we’ve never hung out outside of school and here. my friends from back home would love you. i wouldn’t leave your side either, promise.” you looked up at chelsea with unease. after finding out that rafe lived on the outer banks, you didn’t want to go anywhere near there. “i really can’t, okay? i’m serious, i have so much stuff to do.” minor stuff, but still. you weren’t in the party mood, but to see chelsea so excited about something and then shrinking into herself cause you said no broke your heart.

“please.” she pouted, her hands coming together as if she was going to pray. outer banks wasn’t that small, and if the party she was talking about was a true rager, there’d probably be way too many people to even run into rafe, if the man was even there. you were being ridiculous and overthinking the situation. “okay.” you sighed, chelsea squealing as she pulled you to her room. “let’s get you ready.”

four hours later, you and chelsea were stepping out of an uber, both of you glancing at each other before taking in the scene before you. there was people already passed out face down on the lawn, even some walking on top of the roof with beers in their hands. “what the fuck.” you muttered to yourself, taking chelsea’s arm in yours as you two made your way inside. even though you felt confident in your white babydoll dress and sandals, you couldn’t help but notice that everyone was wearing either a bikini or a collared shirt.

“no offense chels, but was there a dress code we didn’t know about?” you laughed, your friend smirking. “this is what being a kook looks like.” your eyebrows knitted in confusion. what the hell is a kook?

“hey, who’s the birthday boy anyways?” you and chelsea moved through the sea of people in what you assumed was the living room. chelsea squinted, looking towards a small group of guys by the back door. “right over there. tall one with the buzz cut.” she pulled you to the front so you could get a clear view. and what a view it was. the man in question was so tall, he made his peers look ridiculously small. sharp features, but his eyes were soft. “come on, let me introduce you.” you followed your friend, hoping you didn’t look like the way you felt; out of place and shy.

“yo, chelsea!” another guy pulled her in for a hug. you hated how awkward you stood there, too nervous to look up until chels started talking. “guys, this is my roomate and best friend y/n, y/n that’s topper, kelce, warren.. and the man of the hour, rafe.” your smile dropped as soon as the name fell from her lips. it couldn’t be. making a quick recovery, you nodded to each of them, your eyes landing on rafe, your heart skipping a beat when you saw he was already looking at you. rafe whispered your name to himself before saying it out loud. “y/n?” you nodded slowly, chels making conversation with others nearby. “that’s a pretty name.” he extended a hand, his frame towering over yours. your knees felt weak with the look he had on you right now.

“thank you.” you swallowed, giving him your hand. he held it, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “i’ve never seen you around here, did you stay here on figure eight?” figure eight? you shook your head. “no i’m from the city. me and chels- i mean chelsea and i go to school together.” he studied you for a minute. “what’s your major?” fuck. your lips parted, psychology spilling from your mouth before you could stop it. as if something clicked in his head, you internally panicked as you remembered your conversation from last night.

“psychology? you don’t say..” rafe trailed off, finally letting go of your hand. you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “enough about me,” you cleared your throat, “how old are you today.. rafe?” you were hesitant to say his name, somehow saying it out loud made everything feel too real. if he said the number you were anticipating, you might just have it in you to run away from all of this. “twenty three.” and there it was, the answer you were dreading.

it’s rafe, the same rafe that has sent you thousands of dollars over the course of seven months. the same rafe you moaned the name of last night, the same rafe you sent explicit photos to. it had to be. with a house as big as this, and the quiet luxury of his clothing, it would explain why he’s been able to shower you in donations. suddenly the room felt small, realization of the situation hitting you tenfold. “come with me upstairs. just to talk, it’s too loud down here.” you looked back at chelsea, your friend no where to be found. so much for not leaving your side.

“i think i should go.” you glanced up at him, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “just one conversation. that’s all i’m asking.” he pleaded, his shoulders falling in relief when you nodded. he guided you upstairs and into a room where he shut the door behind both of you. you took a seat on the bed, rafe leaning back against the door. “you know.. i never bring anyone up here. but you? i don’t mean to sound like a stalker or anything, but i feel like i know you.” his words sent a shiver down your spine. “i’m sorry, but i think you’re wrong.” you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, avoiding his gaze the best you can.

rafe tilted his head, walking over to you, squatting down before taking your hands in his. he turned your palms over, noting the same manicure, same rings, and the same bow tattoo he saw last night. his heart constricted in his chest when he looked up at you, your face just inches away from his own. you were the most perfect little thing in his grasp. “y/n, sweetheart, i’m gonna ask you something and you’re going to be one hundred percent honest with me.” you waited for his next words like you were waiting for a sentence from a judge. you knew he cracked the code.

“what are the odds that you’re a camgirl?”

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suguann · 2 months

Text

I HOPE YOU STAY—GOJO SATORU

✎. he’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. it just sort of slipped out. | wc. 2.8k+

tags. fem!reader, grinding, unprotected sex, oral sex, some mutual pining (it's implied he doesn't know how to talk to reader), there is not a world where gojo isn't rich, fwb to lovers, jealousy, gagging on how very much in love gojo is with reader and she doesn't see it, praise kink, pet names [18+ only]

masterlist

You’re not sure how it all started.

(As how all arrangements like these seem to start.)

You remember calling Gojo on a night out with your coworkers—one too many cheap vodka cranberries in your system clouding your judgment—just as he left the office for the day, asking if he could pick you up from a shady nightclub downtown.

(You’d hardly been acquaintances, and there was a long period of time where you’re sure he only tolerated you for Shoko’s sake since she’s the one who dragged you into their group of friends. You’re always the last one he acknowledges in the room, and he seems to clam up when you’re alone together.

You refused to let it get to you. Especially when you only see him a handful of times every other month or so, although less now that you’re around, and you pretend it doesn’t eat at you.)

It’s still a mystery why you called him out of everyone you know—you had to scroll through an endless amount of contacts just to find a message you sent him months ago that he left on read with the express purpose of annoying you—and even more surprising that he answered.

You didn’t know him as well as Shoko, but maybe a secret hidden part of you knew he’d help if you were in a pinch.

“Hello?”

(He might be the most infuriating human you know, but he has a voice like rich bourbon.

He’s also stupidly attractive. Beautiful, even, with his straight nose, soft-looking mouth, and thick hair that adorably curls around his ears. However, you’d never say that to his face, for his head would get too big.)

“Do you think you could give me a ride?” It was almost a miracle that your words didn’t slur.

You half expected him to hang up, but then he asked for the address, and several minutes later, he pulled up to the curb in his shiny sports car that probably cost more than everything you own combined and watched you stumble into the soft-leather passenger seat.

It should be embarrassing how long it took you to buckle your seatbelt, but then you finally got a good look at him and took note of his expensive-looking suit: his tie slightly undone, shiny watch and cuff links glinting under the passing street lights, how his hair looked like he ran one of his bear paws for hands through it several times.

You think it was the first time you realized he was as tall as he was wide.

The quintessential businessman in a three-piece suit. You understand the appeal now.

(That je ne sais quoi that makes you want something out of reach. Why your friends from college ask if he’s single when all you see is a man who never takes anything seriously.)

He’d asked why your coworkers weren’t waiting outside with you—it's not safe here—at the same time you asked for a kiss. It just sort of slipped out.

Gojo gave you a look that would have made you giggle if you weren’t serious. “What?”

“I want a kiss,” you told him again.

It was the little once-over he gave you afterward, the way he missed the exit to your street and took the one that led to his, how he kissed you until your knees were wobbly and weak, and you could barely walk to his door in your heels as he pressed small ones around your mouth while his fingers sunk into your hair.

(That. That—)

You came against his thigh—staining his Burberry suit while he whispered dirty things into your ear—right there in the hallway where anybody could see if he didn’t have the whole floor to himself.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned into your mouth once he had you in his room, his hands trailing up and down your sides until he found the zipper for your dress and tugged. "I can't believe this is really happening."

(Later, you spend a lot of time analyzing what he meant.)

You urged him toward the bed when he had the black slip of fabric pooling at your feet, dropping down to your knees in front of him, and together, you scrabbled at his pants, shoving them around his hips. You’ll never forget how hot and heavy he was in your hand that first time, how your fingers barely touched and looked so small in comparison.

There was a thick vein along the underside of his cock, and you trailed it with your tongue, going up and up until you took the slightly purpling head into your open mouth.

You kept taking more of him until you couldn’t go any further without gagging, which wasn’t far because he was big—possibly the biggest dick you’ve ever seen outside of porn—and it made you a little dizzy how quickly it robbed you of air.

“Holy shit.” He stroked your hair so softly, so sweetly, groaned things that made you preen and nuzzle into his touch. “You’re so good at this. You gonna let me cum down that throat?”

That made your belly flip—the fact that Gojo Satoru, of all people, called you good—a stone creating a current of new possibilities.

You hummed a muffled “Uh huh” and squeaked when he held your head down—the coarse hair at his pubic bone brushing against your nose—cumming down your throat in hot, heavy spurts, and you’re surprised you swallowed it all because it was a lot.

He fell back against the mattress, freeing you of his grip, arms spread wide and panting as he lay there with his eyes closed.

“Was it good?” you asked, licking away the small amount of cum that escaped the corner of your mouth.

That got him to pop his head up to look at you, a hint of something too soft on his face than you were used to from him. “Come here,” and he let you crawl into his lap.

A sigh escaped his lips as his hands hovered close to the side of your waist before letting them fall back against the mattress. “You’re trouble, you know that?” he mumbled after kissing your forehead.

(That’s how you think it started.)

~~~~~

Everything’s fine.

Perfectly fine before Gojo sits by you, casually planting himself between you and the newest member of your group of friends, Nanami. You roll your eyes at how childish he’s being, refusing to react to his blatant jealousy.

Then he inconspicuously rests his hand on your knee. You jump at first, and the few people sitting at the table with you glance at you curiously, including Gojo, who gives you a mischievous little smirk that can only mean trouble.

Again, you roll your eyes and choose to ignore whatever is going on in that lizard brain of his.

That doesn’t last long because he’s leaning across you to grab a handful of pretzels, only to lean in close, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he sinks back into his seat.

“You look so fucking good in this dress right now.” His voice already sounds hoarse, stretched thin—raw with want—and you inconspicuously rub your thighs together under the table. “Are you wearing what I bought you underneath? You’d show me, yeah?”

(Because he buys you things now—perfectly normal for someone you’re sleeping with who’s not your boyfriend, but maybe your friend—and sometimes you playfully call him Daddy when he has your wrists tied above your head with one of his silky ties.

And who cares if a few of your things and a toothbrush have found their way into his place? He lives closer to your job. Nobody can blame you for choosing convenience over a forty-minute ride through the subway.

Normal.)

Distantly, you’re aware that you aren’t alone, and there are several ears within earshot distance, but that doesn’t stop the little gasp that escapes past your lips.

“Satoru, knock it off.” You glance around the table to make sure no one is paying attention, your tensed shoulders relaxing a little when you find everyone too preoccupied with their own conversations.

Gojo already has acknowledged this, too.

“I bet you still taste just as sweet as you did this morning. You have no idea how much I want you. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.” At that, you peek down at his lap to find the prominent bulge pressing against his khaki pants.

“Oh?” voice soft when you finally tear your eyes away from his crotch to meet his heated gaze again.

“Mhm.”

Oh.

You can tell that he sees your walls cracking, that it would only take a few sweet words before you finally caved: “You’d let me have another taste, wouldn’t you?”

Your breath hitches because, yes, you would.

That’s how you find yourself with your thighs parted and one of your legs draped over his.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the moan threatening to escape while the rough pad of his middle finger presses small circles over the top of your panties. His fingers tease, exploring the slick seam of you and retreating when you start arching your hips up into his touch.

It feels like you can’t breathe—or perhaps you’re too fearful to find out what other noises you’d make if you did—practically choking on the torturous (because that’s what this is) pleasure you’re receiving, and you’re ready to beg. You really are. However, you aren’t prepared to face the mortifying consequences if you happen to open your mouth.

Something that sounds a lot like, please, just waiting on the tip of your tongue.

It feels like every pair of eyes at that small table are on you, but they’re none the wiser to what is currently happening beneath the party-themed tablecloth, still laughing and mingling around the yard as they celebrate Geto’s birthday.

It’s not as if it’s all that obvious, either.

Gojo is turned away from you, currently in the middle of a discussion with the birthday boy himself. You have no clue what they were talking about because you’d stopped paying attention a while ago—not that you’d be able to listen if you wanted to with Gojo’s fingers turning every spun cotton candy thought back into melted sugar.

He traces lightly over the covered seam of your lips before finally slipping under the silky material—his skilled fingers working slippery circles at the apex of your thighs—and the subtle relief forces you to swallow another moan.

“Satoru,” you warn under your breath, grabbing his wrist to stop his movements. But the feel of him patting your sticky, sensitive clit with three fingers cuts off all of your protests, forcing you to sit there and let him play with you.

Heat crawls up your neck as he explores your slick folds, the loud music, and chatter, thankfully hiding the wet sounds produced between your legs.

He does offer some mercy when he notices the slight quiver in your thighs, how they jump and jump until he stops teasing to press to fingers inside you and grind the heel of his palm into your clit. Your hips start rocking forward against his hand slightly, and you pray nobody notices because the heat spreading through your belly is almost too consuming to stop now, making you dizzy with it.

Your abs hurt from how hard they clench, and your legs shake, culminating in a slow drop just before you resurface. Gojo can probably feel it—attuned to your body after all these months—and starts moving in a steady rhythm, and—

The breath you’re about to take gets caught in your throat, fingers gripping Gojo’s wrist and the ledge of the table as you tip over the edge. Your legs tremble while you convulse onto his hand, and you have to lean into him to keep from falling out of your chair.

His fingers bring you back down, slowly, rubbing soothingly against your inner thigh as the fog gradually dissipates from your brain. And what you’d give to hear him call you his good girl at that moment—

“Hey, are you okay?” Shoko asks you from across the table. “You don’t look so good.”

All eyes turn towards you, including the smug little gleam in Gojo’s.

“Yeah,” you squeak before standing up hastily. You pull Gojo up with you, not caring that it’s the same hand covered in your sticky-wet slick. “I just remembered that I need Sa—Gojo’s help with something.”

Only a few are dumb enough to believe that lie, and you avoid the smirk Shoko gives you as she watches you practically drag Gojo toward the house.

(Because, of course, she knows.

And perhaps she’s not the only one.)

~~~~~

The tipping point in your relationship—the one that turns it from a maybe into a definite something, and not just two people who have been having sex and somewhat living together for six months—happens on a night Gojo comes home late from work.

(Exactly five minutes to eleven.)

You’re not usually the jealous type, but you’ll admit that dating someone like Gojo—rich, attractive, owns more Tom Ford suits than you have jeans, and just important enough that he has an assistant who runs said suits to the dry cleaners—can stir up some insecurities.

A more reasonable person would lay out the facts like a deck of cards: you know he’s someone’s boss’s boss, so he likely had to stay behind to fix someone else’s mess, but the proverbial chip onto the poker table comes with his new assistant.

Hinata.

A girl who’s fresh out of college and around him more hours of the day than you see him during the week, and from the few times you stopped by his office, you can tell she has a thing for him—her lack of subtlety could compete with Gojo’s nonexistent observation skills.

Much later, after you’ve slept on the softest sheets you’ve ever laid on, you’ll admit you overreacted. How you shouldn’t have thrown blankets and pillows at him from his bed for him to sleep on the couch with as soon as he walked through the front door—not to mention how you never give him a chance to explain himself and keep huffing whenever he opened his mouth.

After the second pillow (almost comically, if you weren’t so upset) hits him square in the face, he drops the blankets to grab your wrists.

“Would you stop throwing blankets at me and tell me what’s wrong?”

"Like you don't know," you hiss unhelpfully just to be difficult.

"I wouldn't be asking if I did." This time, his voice is softer when he says, "Talk to me."

"It’s your assistant."

He frowns. “My assistant…?”

“Yes, your assistant,” you huff, making an unsuccessful attempt to yank your wrists free. “She obviously has a thing for you, but you’re too thick to notice. You forgot your phone, and she answered and said you were busy...”

He probably sees the vulnerability on your face. Hears what you’re not telling him because he presses a kiss to your forehead—I’m not seeing anyone other than you—another to your mouth before he’s showing you with your thighs pressed to your chest that every piece of him (even the parts he doesn’t show to anyone else) is yours.

“You want me to send this video to her to let her know you’re the only girl I want to fuck?” he grunts, making sure his phone captures the way his cock pushes in and out of you, hissing dirtier things that only you hear—the tightest pussy he’s ever had. “Would you like that?”

“Y-yes,” you whine, fingernails digging into his hand wrapped around your throat. “Please, Toru. I want it.”

“So fucking dirty,” he growls, even though he’d do it for you anyway.

He stuffs his cock into you over and over again until you’re a twitching mess underneath him, the walls of your cunt clenching down around him as you cum with a squeak.

“There you go,” he groans into your ear, tossing his phone to the side to pin you against the mattress so he can reach that tender spot deep inside you that made you cum so hard once your foot cramped, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Is that what you needed? To make you cum because you’re mine? Fuck, baby—I’ll never get tired of this perfect little cunt.”

“Better not,” you whimper, eyelashes wet, squirming beneath him as he fucks you hard into the soft sheets.

“Never, sweetheart, never.” Gojo’s thrusts turn rough and brutal, almost working you into overstimulation just to prove a point. "You're my girl. The only one for me."

It's not quite an 'I love you,' but it's close.

Afterward, he pulls you between the sheets, holds you close with a hand cupping the back of your head, and asks you to stay.

“For good this time. No more leaving in the morning,” he whispers, lips grazing your cheek. “You like the walk-in closet and the clawfoot tub. We have enough room to turn the spare bedroom into an office for you because you like how sunny it gets in there during the day.”

It’s not a question, but you still say ‘I do’ because you really like how the word we sounds coming from him.

“Then…stay.”

…You say yes because it’s not as if you want to be anywhere else.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fic

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 2 months

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 7 ] || [ Chapter 9 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.1K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: ghost is making a move.

Chapter 8: Awooga?

Surprisingly, your one-night stand with John last night did wonders for you. You felt energized all day and made it a point to clean everything instead of moping about like you have tended to do since your break-up with Ethan.

There were days when you considered texting him, neck deep in feelings you couldn’t quite move past, trying your best to stay afloat. Four years by his side couldn’t be forgotten in the blink of an eye, even if neither of you wanted anything to do with the other and had each other blocked on every platform imaginable.

It’s 4 P.M. on Saturday and you’re laying about in your living room wearing lounge clothes, your legs spread over your coffee table, eyes lazily locked on the TV as you fiddle with your phone, twirling it in your hand.

Eventually, you find yourself getting bored… So you decide to open Tinder one last time. You got what you wanted out of it. John scratched that itch… There’s no need to keep it. But it’s still funny enough to judge the men on that app even if you’re no longer doing anything with them.

You start Left Swiping on every profile that comes onto your screen, silently judging each one and murmuring to yourself. You get about 15 profiles in before you find yourself bored of even that.

Sighing and getting peckish, you decide to order yourself something good for dinner from a delivery app. Then, while waiting for the notification that your driver is on his way, you return to Tinder.

You open the DM tab, finding dozens of new DMs from guys and skim through them, none of them catching your eye. If you were in the mood, you’d maybe engage in convo with one of them, maybe annoy them a little… But they all seem so… bland.

Then you find Simon’s chat lost in the influx. You click on it for a moment, smiling a bit as you spot his politeness and excess professionalism for someone that’s on a dating app looking to get laid.

Biting your lip, your fingers glide across the keyboard as you shoot him a quick message.

you: so… are you thinking of ever uploading a new pic of yourself?

The Read indicator popped up under your DM almos instantly, and the bubbles indicating Simon was typing soon followed.

Simon: Look who it is. Simon: Hello to you too. Simon: No, I don’t intend to do that. you: hi, sorry. x you: why not? Simon: I don’t take this app seriously enough to want to show off what I look like. you: was that a dig at me for having a whole gallery? Simon: No. Simon: Unless you want it to be. 😉 you: 😱😱 you: SIMON DID YOU JUST USE AN EMOJI? Simon: I regret doing it now. you: NOOOO pls don’t! you: it was fun!!!! Simon: Alright then. Simon: How are you feeling today?

You’re genuinely shocked by his question and you find yourself smiling a bit.

you: i’m okay hru? Simon: Just okay? I’m fine thanks. you: yeah! feeling lazy. Simon: You had me worried you weren’t feeling well after last night.

Your cheeks warm up so quickly that you even sputter and sit up on the couch with a start.

you: you know?? Simon: Of course I know. Simon: John’s my captain. you: he told you??????? Simon: No. John’s old school. No kiss and tell. Simon: But we were all expecting he’d go home with you. Simon: Kind of an open secret. you: oh Simon: Does that bother you? you: i don’t think so? you: i guess i should’ve expected you would realize it Simon: I’m sorry. Simon: To be fair, I can tell you that you did a great job, he’s in a much better mood. you: that is not the praise you think it is 😭 Simon: I’m not used to giving praise, cut me some slack alright? you: right. i can see that. you: the whole - my team would say i push them - thing Simon: I stand by that. Simon: I’m not very good at talking. Simon: But I’m not a liar. you: i’ve noticed you: you tend to hate being called that. Simon: Lie enough on the job. Simon: When I’m talking to people outside of that, I like being as honest as I can be. you: i see you: sooo does that mean i can ask you things and you’ll be honest in the answers? Simon: About? you: you Simon: Within reason. you: what do you look like Simon: 6ft4, blonde, brown eyes. you: that’s it? Simon: I said ‘Within reason’. That means I won’t give you more than I think I should. you: infuriating 😤 Simon: That’s life.

Just as you’re about to answer, your doorbell rings. You were so absorbed in Simon’s chat that you didn’t notice your delivery driver arrived.

You slip on some shoes quickly and dash downstairs to the front door of the building to receive your food.

Once upstairs, you set your food on the table and unwrap everything, beginning to eat your Nando’s chicken as you try to resume texting Simon one-handed.

That’s when you spot the message he sent you while you were busy.

Simon: Added some new pics. Simon: Don’t say I never did anything for you. Simon: But I’ll take them down in 2 minutes so you better hurry up.

Eyebrows raised, you quickly click on his profile and rush to tap through to the new pictures.

The first one makes you chuckle. Of course, it’s him wearing a hoodie and a stupid mask… But the second one? Your jaw drops open and you find yourself swallowing dryly.

“Awooga…” You quip to yourself and giggle, amused at your own silliness as your eyes trail over every inch of exposed skin in Simon’s chest. Even if that’s not him, even if that’s just some… bloke he found online, it’s still a bloody fine picture.

Returning to the chat, you type a quick reply.

you: not bad Simon: Answered your questions? you: raised a couple more. Simon: Good. Simon: You keep them in your mind for later. you: why does it feel like you’re leaving?? Simon: Because I am. Duty calls. Simon: I’ll tell John you said 'Hi'. you: okay... you: be careful!

As soon as you sent that message you found yourself facepalming. Why do you sound like a concerned partner? You don’t even know this man. Any of them really. Even if you had one of them inside of you less than 24 hours ago.

You don't dwell too much on it because soon there's a message from Simon on the screen.

Simon: Always am. Don’t miss us too much.

Shaking your head, you set down your phone, locking the screen, and turning back to your peri-peri chicken and chips, eyebrows furrowed in contemplation.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

IF THE GIF DOESN'T WORK: CLICK HERE

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur , @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader

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lxkeee · 3 months

Text

MY LOVE, IS MINE ALL MINE PART THREE

pairing: Lucifer x fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fanfiction

notes: Imaoo sorry it took awhileee I'm actually a very busy college student while simultaneously having so much brainrot for this man so... Be patient omfg, I just posted part one a two days ago also, don't mind the warnings too much as it doesn't specifically for this specific chapter but it can be future parts of the story. So yes, hand holding before marriage will happen between Lucifer and [y/n]

warnings: none except hand holding before marriage Imao.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

Lucifer paced back and forth in his room, worried. Walking around the large master's bedroom, passing by many piles of rubber ducks he made.

“She should be back by now.” Lucifer murmured to himself, sighing.

His eyes landed on to the framed pictures decorating his walls.

He prayed that Charlie met [y/n] up there, the one angel he trusts. Though, it has been eons since he's last seen her, he wonders if [y/n] changed after all these years, especially after he had fallen from grace.

Did she hate him? Did she miss him like how he misses her?

As he sat on his arm chair, a gold sealed white envelope manifested on top of the coffee table in front of him, pink glittery smoke surrounding the letter.

“...What the...?” Lucifer murmurs, hesitant and cautious, eyeing the envelope. What if it's a trap?

Suddenly his phone buzzed, he immediately checked it to see it was a text message from Charlie.

“I just left a letter on your table, it's from someone you know. I'll tell you everything that happened in heaven but I'll rest for a bit. Love you dad!”

Lucifer smiled though a tad bit worried, he can tell that the meeting didn't go as his daughter hoped. He can only give her time.

Lucifer then now turned his eyes back on the neat envelope, sparkling a little. He turned the letter around to see it was specifically addressed to him, written in an oh so familiar handwriting to him. Unknowingly, just by seeing the handwriting was enough for his eyes to tear up a little.

“[y/n]....” He murmurs, finally opening the letter. Using his sharp nails to scrape off the wax without breaking it or tearing the envelope. Taking out the carefully folded light yellow paper, unfolding it to reveal her letter to him.

My Dearest Lucifer

His cheeks flushed slightly, with a comma after dearest. My Dearest, Lucifer

“Oh [y/n], this will keep me up at night.” Lucifer murmurs with a small dorky smile on his face, his sharp teeth shining against the light, eyes watering.

My Dearest, Lucifer

It has been awhile hasn't it? A couple of eons since we've last seen each other. You have no idea how excited I was when I heard your daughter would be coming here in hell. I made sure to write a letter in advance a day before her arrival. I have a lot to tell you, first and foremost, I truly missed you. You sly man, you really got married without inviting me. How's your time down there? I hope hell is treating you right, I really hope I'll get a chance to see you again. I hope we'll get a proper chance to talk, I want to personally hear you how you've been doing. I hope you'll get the chance to see the good of humans after giving them free will, I promise to find a way for you to leave and visit earth. I am running out of paper to right on but I promise to help your daughter up here and lastly, I want you to remember that I adore you always.

“Sincerely yours, [y/n] [l/n]” Lucifer softly reads out, voice shaking. It felt like he could hear her as he read the letter. The same kind [y/n] who always believed in him. His heart swells knowing that she's still trying to help in any way she can despite their distance. She never stopped believing in him despite him leaving without notice (not that he had the chance to).

“If only you knew how much I adore you too, [y/n]...” Lucifer murmurs softly, his finger tracing the outline of the paper ever so gently.

“I want to see you again, I have so many things to say to you... So many unsaid words I wanted to say... I wanted to tell you that I love...” Lucifer's eyes widened ever so slightly, cheeks turning red. He knows he loves her and he still does but he also loves his ex-wife, Lilith. Does he? Or is he just holding into something that no longer exists as it was something he had for a long time and now it's gone?

Everything in his life changed, Lilith's love for him changed, he changed.

Despite all of this, [y/n] remained unchanging inside his heart. Sure, Lilith held the majority of his heart but now? He is not sure but he is 100% sure [y/n] never left, he still has affections for the angel.

How can he not? She's the only one who believed in him when he was up in heaven? She comforted him whenever the elders said hurtful things to his ideas.

But now...

Her letter gave him a sense of hope that his decision of giving mankind free will might not be useless after all.

Lucifer closes the letter, gently folding it back on how it was folded before he opened it. Bringing the piece of paper to his nose, smelling the faint scent of her perfume. It brought back memories of his time with her in heaven.

“I'll ask Charlie about what happened up there later but for now, I'll take a moment to process this.” He says with a small sigh. Slipping the folded paper back into the envelope.

Lucifer sighs as he gently places the envelope back on his table, walking to his balcony. Eyes staring up into the smoky red skies of hell, devoid of any moon and stars.

He used to stargaze with her when he was still in heaven.

[y/n] was his moon, who shines during his darkest days.

Waving his finger in the air, specks of golden dust flickers out of his fingers. Forming a crescent moon.

Lucifer leans into the railings, eyes staring at the faux moon he created.

“Moon, tell me if I could...” Lucifer softly sang, eyes tired but hopeful. “Send up my heart to you...?” he asked softly, unfortunately no one answered.

A bit of a timeskip....

It has been a few months since Charlie's visit here in heaven and the next extermination is getting closer by the day. Emily and I are still trying to look for ways to help Charlie.

Sera adores Emily, I am sure that she wouldn't get punished. I on the other hand, Sera has been keeping a close eye on me. Criticizing me. Lute being tasked to watch my every move.

“Sera, this is utterly ridiculous! We should give those poor souls a second chance.” [Y/n] says, clenching her fists as she looked at Sera who was sitting on her chair inside the Seraphim office.

“That is enough, [y/n]. You keep this up and you'll end up fallen like Lucifer.” Sera said sternly, eyes glaring at the [y/n]. “You barely managed to escape that fate before, you could've fallen the same time as Lucifer but thankfully your actions weren't as severe as his.”

[y/n] slammed her fists against the table, angel eyes appearing on her wings with fury, “We aren't God, Sera! Who gave you the right to judge those sinners and claim they don't deserve a second chance?” she exclaimed.

Sera stood up from her seat, anger evident on her face. “Don't you dare raise your voice at me! You're on thin ice, [y/n]!”

[y/n] rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over chest, “What are you going to do? Huh? Kick me out of heaven?”

Sera's glare sharpened, patience running thin. “Keep that attitude up and you just might.”

“Lucifer doesn't deserve this treatment! You cursed him to not see the good of people! You cursed the people who have a chance to redeem themselves by taking their life! How does it feel that so much blood is spilled because of your decision?!” [y/n] asked angrily, tears running down her cheeks.

“We have our own souls to protect! This decision wasn't easy to make!” Sera remarked angrily, her wings spread out intimidatingly.

“Protect them from what?! As far as I know, it's only us angels who are a threat to them? If they do something that doesn't fit your standards or the elder's standards they are bound to fall from grace!” [y/n] says mockingly, rage and annoyance evident on both women's eyes.

“That's it, you've crossed the line!”

“You don't want to admit that I am right, angels are such selfish, greedy, and filthy creatures. I cannot believe I am associated with beings whose hands are stained with blood.”

You know, falling doesn't seem so bad.

Strong and harsh winds are blowing against my back, thankfully I still have my wings. It is currently useless, unfortunately. I don't have the energy to flap them to save myself from the approaching pain.

After that argument with Sera, the higher seraphim thought I was already way out of line and disrespectful. I was placed on trial, handcuffed with the type of handcuffs that prevents me from using my angelic powers while it simultaneously sucked the energy out of me.

I was deemed guilty, shameful, and ungrateful and a threat to the order of heaven.

Tossed out of the pearly gates of heaven by none other than Adam, that asshole really grabbed me by the hair.

[y/n] sighs softly, vision blurring. Trying to focus it as she falls from grace. The skies looked so beautiful.

Lucifer would've loved these skies, we've stargazed during the night before. When he was still in heaven with me.

Lucifer, I can see Ursa Major tonight. Someday, I'll bring you back here on the surface and stargaze like we've always do. No matter how many stars are in the sky, you always take my attention. You're like my star, you shine so bright and so pure.

I'll join you in the pits of hell, I hope you didn't forget about me.

I should be happy that I'm finally leaving that god awful place.

Why am I so scared of falling to my demise?

For a moment, I can see a glimpse of how Lucifer felt when he fell from grace.

Terrifying.

[Y/n] closes her eyes as she finally goes past the Earth's crust. Ichor flowing out of her hands from the handcuffs she had to wear.

“I am not allowed to die, I still need to see him.” [y/n] murmurs before eventually crashing into the fiery grounds of hell, she fortunately crashed somewhere where there weren't any people, a wide space of nothing but dead trees, a hotel can be seen in the distance.

Pain, pain shot everywhere her body. She let out a sharp scream of pure pain. Blood spilled everywhere before she eventually passed out.

It didn't matter, the pain didn't matter. She's here now. She'll look for him or Charlie.

She doesn't know Charlie would find her first.

END NOTES: YUHHH THEY'LL SEE EACH OTHER AGAIN IN THE NEXT UPDATEE

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kleem-o · 10 months

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Choose me her: Gojo x reader

part 2

a/n: since y'all really like the first one i'll give it to u guys since i love y'all. warning! theres smut here. here's part 1

"I-I can't, I fucking lover her"

Gojo hunches over as he vomits on a nearby bush in the park. "You're pathetic" Nanami sighs frustrated, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "Come on man, you can't keep being like this." Geto says as he pats Gojo's back. It has been weeks since you and Gojo fought, and Gojo did not hear a single word from you. You blocked him on all social media accounts, even Facebook. So what did he do? He drank and drank. He would often call up the boys to go get a drink at a pub, and the few first times Nanami and Geto were okay with it, they were comforting their friend after all, but after the 10nth time, it became ridiculous. "I-ugh I gotta call her." Gojo was a mess. He was loudly crying like a little kid, longing for you. He took out his phone, and upon turning it on it was already at your contact. "Man-tsk! come on stop it!" Geto took the phone away from Gojo, hoping to stop whatever mess he'll make that would make matters worse. He took a glance at Gojo's phone and the sight was..

Wed, June 14 at 9:13 PM Hi baby I'm very very sorry. Please believe me I really didn't mean what I said Y/N. Can you please come home? Can we please talk? I'm sorry baby I really am. I love you.

Wed, June 14 at 10:02 PM Y/N?

Wed, June 14 at 10:25 PM Y/N baby its getting real late now. Where are you? I'll come pick you up. Please answer baby its not safe out. I love you.

Wed, June 14 10:46 PM Y/N please pick up the phone, where are you?? Are you okay?? Please answer babe

Wed, June 15 1:09 AM Hii baby I heard from Shoko you were at your parents' house. Lets talk soon okay? Goodnight. Sweetdreams. I love you.

Before Geto could read more of the endless messages of 'I love yous' and 'I'm sorry' and 'Come home', Gojo snatched his phone back and immediately called you. Of course only for it to be added to the countless missed calls he made. This made the man cry harder as his two friends helplessly watched. "Why don't you just go to her house then?" Nanami pointedly asked. "Obviously I already thought of that! I did and when I went there she wasn't there anymore, so I went to her apartment, but I think she told the landlady not to let me in the building.." Gojo kept his head down, too ashamed at everything that happened. All of this was his fault after all. If he listened to you none of this would have happened. "Okay, look. Drinking to kill your liver isn't helping anyone, you don't even like alcohol! Go talk to her. Stay in front of her building or something! We'll try our best to help you-" "We??" "-yes, WE will help you" Geto looked at Nanami with a furrowed brow, there was no way he was letting Nanami escape. "But for now, lets just go home. You're too wasted to talk to anyone anyway." Nanami says. The two drove Gojo home.

Gojo's apartment was silent, too silent. He misses the way you would greet him when he got home, the way you would kiss him. He misses hugging you from behind as you cook, and he misses how you would bite his arm as he does the dishes. He misses all the silly things, all the things that reminded him of you. As he got to his bed he knew that a killer headache would welcome him in the morning, and you weren't there to cuddle it all away. He thinks of you as he lies down on the cold big, was the bed always this big, bed. He hugs the pillow that you always used, and closed his eyes wishing it was you.

Gojo woke up to the smell of bacons. He blinked then quickly ran to the kitchen "Y/N?!" He was shocked to see not you, but his best friend? What was she doing here? "Oh! You're awake, here I made us breakfast." She says as she sets the bacon down on the table. "Umm.. What are you doing here?" Gojo remained standing away from her as she says "Well I heard that you got crazy wasted last night, so I came here! Not even a thank you??" She giggles but Gojo remained serious as he rubs the back of his neck "Look, Y/N and I got in a fight and- I think we should establish some boundaries." The girl looked at him shocked, like she was offended "Satoru I am your best friend. Who cares what that bitch thinks?? You guys are bound to break up anyway, besides" She went closer to Gojo and hugged his arm "you got me anyway" Gojo's blood ran cold. He was beyond disgusted not just by what she was saying, but by the fact that he never knew how she felt and that you were right. Gojo immediately threw her arm off in anger. He couldn't believe this. He felt betrayed. And oh how he wishes he could turn back time, he really fucked up this time. "What the fuck?? First of all fuck you for calling my girlfriend a bitch. Who the fuck do you think you are?? You think you're special?? Well you're not. Don't even think to compare yourself with Y/N. I don't fucking like you and I don't want to ever see you again" The girl ran out of his apartment crying in embarrassment. Gojo had to talk to you.

He drove fast to your apartment. And as if luck was on his side today, he saw you just about to enter the building. He quickly ran to you, catching your wrist gently. "Wait! Y/N." You looked at him as he tried to catch his breath. "Please, can we talk?"

You led him to your apartment, and as soon as the door closed, he hugged you tightly from behind "Please Y/N- I'm so sorry for everything that happened. It was entirely my fault and you were right, I was being an asshole for not listening to you. I'm sorry I made you feel that way, there's no excuse for what I did. But I promise I'll change, I- I'll never make the same mistakes again! I know this might be a lot but I hope you can give me another chance-" You burst out giggling "Satoru! Wait I- haha! stop! I'm ticklish!!" Gojo was so confused as to why you were laughing but then he realized he was subconsciously rubbing your sides, something that was so natural to the both of you "Oh! I'm sorry baby."

You and Gojo had a long serious talk that day, about how you felt, how sorry he was, and how he'll change for the better. It was a day full of crying, and to your surprise Gojo was crying even more than you, that you had to wipe his tears while he rests his head on your chest like a little puppy. Gojo made it a point for you to tell him everything, all the frustrations you had, and things you wished were better. You both established that communication is key.

"Are we okay now baby?"

"Hmmm.. I don't know... I think you're missing something though.."

"Okay just tell me babe, hm?"

"I didn't get any kisses"

The moment you said that Gojo's heart felt very warm, he felt home. He immediately tackled you on the couch with kisses on your cheek, neck, and lips. Your apartment was now filled with giggles, chuckles, and relief. You both had pizza delivered to your apartment, and after eating dinner you both are cuddled in your bed, him spooning you, arms wrapped around your waist, while you and him watch random tiktok videos on your phone. It was comforting. A few giggles here and there. Your back was against his chest and you shifted a bit to get more comfortable, unbeknownst to you, you rubbed your ass snug against his length.

Gojo noticed this, and now he was super aware of his surroundings. You smelled so good, just freshly out of the shower, you were so soft his hands began rubbing at your sides, up and down getting dangerously low to your ass, and high to your breast. He was getting hard, and subconsciously humping our ass. "I can feel you, you know" Gojo was taken aback, maybe this was too soon after your fight. "Oh sorry I-" He was cut off by your lips on his. He licked your bottom lip, asking for access in which you opened your mouth and deepened the kiss. His tongue caressed yours, as spit began dripping on both of your chins. The make out was getting too heated, and although he was a bit embarrassed by being hard rock just by a kiss, he got on top of you as he started to dry hump you. You felt him smirk in the kiss as he felt your pussy getting wet. He pulled away from the kiss, a line of saliva connecting the both of you "My pretty baby getting so wet for me, so good for me" He removed your top and circled your nipple with his tongue before sucking it gently, rolling it in between his lips. You were mewling and Gojo felt your hips grinding, your pussy hungry for relief. He removed your shorts as he sucked on your nipple, and traced your slit with his fingers, teasing you "Fuck you're so wet baby, such a good slut for me, yeah?" You were now moaning, wanting more of his touch "Ye-Yes please baby I want-I need it please. I missed you."

"I missed you too" Gojo rubbed fast circles on your clit, making your back arch and mouth turn into an "o", Gojo swore you looked like a goddess. He went down on you getting a good look at your pussy, how wet- how delicious it was. He licked up and down your slit, making you squirm so much that he had to hold your legs around his head. He licked your throbbing clit before taking it in and sucking and gently nibbling on it, making you scream in pleasure "Ah-! B-baby, right there-fuck! Feels so good baby!" Gojo kept licking and sucking your clit as his finger entered you. You let out a gasp as you moan when he rubbed your sweet spot, adding another finger in to give you more pleasure. "Baby-'Toru wait! I-I'm close! ah- nng! I'm cumming I'm cumming I'm cummin-!" You arched your back as you spasmed, your orgasm bringing you to heaven as you grind, fucking yourself on his tongue. Gojo felt like cumming seeing you like that, he could tell that his boxer was stained with his precum. He hurriedly removed his clothes, wanting to enter you now. His big cock hit his tummy as he removed his pants, head red and twitching dripping with precum. You spread your legs wider for him, arms reaching out as you say "Daddy please fuck me."

Gojo lost control and had only one thought, he wanted to cum in you. You both gasp as he pushed his cock in your pussy, walls hugging his cock tightly. He thrusted, hips bucking wildly as you moan out in pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head while your tongue lolled out your mouth. Gojo felt his cock twitching at the sight of your fucked out face, though he wasn't any better. His eyes were also rolling at the back of his head at the feeling of your wet tight hole. The bed was creaking and hitting the wall with how fast his pace was, but neither of you care. All you and Gojo could think about was each other in this moment. He kissed and sucked on your neck as you grip on his hair, legs locking on his hips. The lewd wet sound of skin slapping made you both feel very hot. "A-aah! D-daddy I'm I- ahh-! Baby p-please" "I know baby I-fuck-I know baby. Cum for me, cum for daddy, yeah?" He slipped his hands between the two of you and began to rub your clit fast. This pushed you over the edge and you came hard. Walls tightening and throbbing, Gojo was close to cumming too as he felt his balls rise. " I'm cumming baby- Fuck! I'm cumming-take it- take it all!" He raised your legs close to your chest, bending you as his cock hardened even more and twitched, letting out ropes of cum in your pussy. Gojo groaned as he came, eyes rolled to the back of his head while he let out breathy moans. He lay on top of you as he finished, both of you trying to catch your breath. He kissed you on the lips as you played with his hair. You both knew you had to clean up, you were both covered in sweat and slick, and so was the bed sheets. But you were both too tired to move, you guys had tomorrow after all right? With this comforting thought you both drift off to sleep, with Gojo's arms wrapped around your waist as he nuzzles your neck, and your hand resting on his hand while the other on his back.

You both slept peacefully, feeling content, complete.

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed i wasn't really planning on doing this but i had fun lol

@porridgesblog @remniriis

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ahundredtimesover · 4 months

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I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job.

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him.

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss.

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back.

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later.

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it.

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room.

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is.

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence.

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that.

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you.

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly.

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate.

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation.

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it.

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought.

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates.

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word.

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks.

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake.

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it.

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter.

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying.

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow.

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain.

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists.

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?”

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try.

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction. But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more.

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes.

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.”

You bow and head out the door.

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret.

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now.

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently.

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance.

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed.

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door.

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves.

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do.

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home.

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought.

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere.

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you.

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration.

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect.

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door.

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too.

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe.

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor.

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore!

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum.

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say.

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours.

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did.

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.”

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you.

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out.

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason.

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before.

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage.

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning.

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt.

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment.

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over.

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him.

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed.

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now.

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him.

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget.

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed.

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him.

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern.

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___. But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth.

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline.

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well.

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices.

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop.

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context.

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back.

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress.

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it.

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at.

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat.

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back.

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence.

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs.

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger.

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore.

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly.

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all.

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about.

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you.

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough.

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love.

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all.

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units.

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing.

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?”

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight.

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays.

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway.

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung.

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again.

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep.

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard.

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they.

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking.

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway.

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really.

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name.

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else.

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face.

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chrisdr3 · 8 days

Text

"Ignorant" ~ OP81

Fluff

Oscar x Introvert!Reader

Summary: Y/n gets hateful comments about her appearance and for being "ignorant", whilst Oscar tries to understand what's going on with her feelings.

You never really liked to talk much, you always were shy and tended to hide your emotions. You were more on the introverted side, like Oscar. When you were together, Oscar did most of the talking, especially when you were infront of fans, reporters and team members unknown to you.

That's the main reason the hate started. Most of it, at least. Every day, you were recieving hateful messages and comments on your social media. Everywhere you went, several fans that recognised you said things about you. Because of that, you started staying at home and you stopped posting stuff on your social. The worst part is that you distanced yourself slowly from relatives and friends.

At the last few races, you went on McLaren's hospitality from the back, avoiding fans as much as you could and avoided places of the garage that had cameras and media. You took your headset and hid in lonely corners or in Oscar's driver room, where nobody could reach you, and stayed there, sometimes crying and others just sitting and thinking. Feeling hideous and snub.

As the time passed, you started distancing yourself from Oscar slowly, thinking he hated you just like the "fans". He wasn't talking much either, so that's what you thought. You didn't really hug or cuddle him, you ate and showered alone, you spent hours locked up in your office room, reading books, and didn't sleep well at night, staring at the ceiling, trying not to cry. Long story short, you started avoiding him, too.

The fist days, Oscar thought you had to study for uni. Then a week passed and Oscar started to get worried. He wanted to help you, he wanted to talk to you, to find what's going on. He was cooking your favourite meals, bringing them to your door, tried to understand if you had a certain time of going out to shower, but you didn't.

One day, he checked your social media, just in case he found why were you acting like that. He checked them that same afternoon he came up with the idea and scrolled through your accounts, every comment he saw made him even angrier. He then posted something in response.

"I've repeatedly seen hateful actions and comments about Y/n and I want people to know that she's not ignorant or rude, she's an introverted person. So, I'm requesting from everyone to respect her. If there are still people out there, still hating on her through internet or irl, they'll stop being considered "fans" by me and will be reported. Thank you." That's what the post said.

He then waited till you got out to shower and stranded waiting in the doorframe if the closed bathroom door. When you got out, he moved infront of you and pulled you into a warm, bone crushing hug. "Why are you so distant lately, sweetheart?"

Tears escaped from your eyes, and you cried silently in Oscar's arms, staining his shirt with them. He didn't move, he rubbed your back gently. "That's it, let it out princess." You continued crying till you hadn't any more tears to shed, holding the towel around your body tightly, afraid it will fall.

Oscar cupped your face and kissed your forehead. "It's okay baby, I'm here for you." He whispered. "Talk to me, what took you away from me?" You looked at him, your face tear stained, sad. "Promise n-not to get angry?" You mumbled. "Of course, I can't get angry that easily, especially from you." He replied, caressing your hair.

You didn't leave his arms, snuggled in their warmth instead. "D-do you hate me?" You mumbled, looking at your feet. "Why would I hate you baby?" He responded, not getting his arms off you. "Because I'm"ignorant" and "rude" and "snub"." Oscar looked at you and smiled sadly. "It's the comments, huh?" You raised your head, a questioning expression in your face.

"I know about the hate you get. I saw it on your social and you don't know how many rime "fans" talked to me of to other people about you when in races or downtown." He explained, ruffling yor hair. "Oh..."

"I'm here for you baby, I know you are shy and stuff but I believe in you. You can ignore them and you have the words to confront them." He smiled. "Can you try that? For me?" "I'll try..." You whispered. "Thanks, sweetheart." You kissed his cheek, adjusting your towel. Oscar noticed, he then grabbed your hand and led you to your shared bedroom. "Let's get you dressed, princess."

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#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #formula one #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fanfic

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motherlvr · 10 months

Text

love me better, listen more.

wc: 3.2k

Pairing: Earth-42! Miles Morales x f! reader

Summary: After Miles' father died, everything changed. Including your relationship with Miles.

Warnings: angst w/ happy ending, cursing, friends to strangers to lovers, angry makeout session, Flash Thompson exists here

A/N: honestly my fav fic i've made so far, im literally running out of photos for him. im gunna have to start using photos of his jordans

As you walked home, an arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind, "¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy?" Miles’ voice flowed through your ears.

He called you his, but you weren't lovers.

You were slightly startled but immediately recognized him. Letting out a soft chuckle, you said, “Your ángel, huh? That’s a new one.” smiling up at him.

"It suits you." Miles gave you a wink.

Usually, he called you 'ma'. So his switch-up today made you narrow your eyes at him skeptically. "What's with the good mood today? No 'ma'?" You tilted your head at him.

Shrugging it off, he said, "What, I can't be happy to see my girl?" He had a point, except for the fact that you weren't his girl.

You laughed and shook your head at him, "By all means, go ahead." As he accompanied you on your way home, you realized he made your walk home much more pleasant. Arriving at your house, you told him "This is me. Thanks for walking me today." You gave him a light peck on his cheek.

"Course. Make sure to wear that outfit I like tomorrow, mami." He teased with a grin, only half serious.

Rolling your eyes at him, you smiled, "You're insufferable. Adiós, Miles!" You waved as you walked up to your doorstep.

"Chao, princesa." Walking away, his mood felt lighter. He walked home with a little more liveliness than usual.

For reasons unknown, Miles walking you home was becoming a reoccurring event. Within the next few weeks, he walked you home more often than not. You started to look forward to it as you searched for him after school.

As you both walked down the street of your neighborhood for what seemed to be the hundredth time, you approached your house. As you both stood in front of your house, you turned to him and said, "Thanks for walking me home, Miles." You placed a kiss on his cheek. It seemed to be turning into a daily routine now.

"Anytime, princesa. Hasta luego." He smirked at you and watched you walk into your house before leaving.

Little did you know, that would be the last time he walked you home in a while.

Later that evening, you kicked your feet up on your couch and turned on the television. The first channel that popped up was the news channel. Reading the headline, your heart dropped into your stomach. It read,

"Police Captain Jefferson Davis Found Dead At 44.”

"Holy shit." You gasped. In an instant, you dropped the remote and tried to contact Miles. You tried calling but were sent immediately to voicemail. So you opted to text him, "I'm so sorry, Miles. I'm always here if you need to talk."

You left him multiple messages that night to no avail. The following day at school, you tried to scout him out in the halls. But he was never there. You would call if you thought he would answer.

Miles and you always confided in each other. There was a mutual trust between the two of you. However, within less than twenty-four hours, Miles' demeanor completely changed.

Leaving him another message after school, you said, "Where have you been? I'm worried, Miles. But you know that already. Sorry for the messages."

No response yet again. He didn't even bother to read it.

Weeks passed by with little to no contact from Miles. He seemed to entirely disappear. Your concern only grew for him. You haven't even seen him in the hallways at school. There was no denying it, you were starting to miss him.

Although, today was a new day. And for the first time in what felt like a century, you saw him in the hall. He looked a fright. There were new frown lines on his face that weren't there before. He looked slimmer, even. His smug smirk that would always adorn his face around you was no longer present. Your eyes lit up at the sight of him nonetheless. Jogging up to him, you called out.

"Miles, wait." You softly said as you delicately grabbed his arm, not to startle him. He paused, looking back but not into your eyes. He shook your grip off, never making eye contact with you. "I just need some time, alright?" He told you. But what does 'some time' entail? What if he just didn't want anything to do with you in general?

He walked away and didn’t look back.

You felt your heart break into two as you watched him fade away from your view. It broke for both him and you. Seeing him like this pained you. But at the same time, your heart ached as he pushed you away in the process.

Yet, you granted him his wish. You stopped looking for him in the hall. You stopped trying to message him. You stopped leaving voicemails. Maybe if you gave him some time, things would smooth out. Grief is a long process, after all. You couldn't blame him for grieving.

Weeks turned into months without any contact from Miles. And it didn't seem like he was going to break that any time soon.

You fell back into your old routine, the one where you'd never met Miles. He was merely a stranger that you thought too often about. You walked home without him next to you. And into class alone as well. You no longer looked forward to walking with him at the end of the day. The walks home were infuriatingly quiet.

Every day you arrived at your doorstep but never felt at home. You had a home, and he was it.

-----------

While you were getting books out of your locker, an arm slung around your shoulders. An almost familiar sensation. But it wasn't him. Far from him, actually.

Instead, it was no one other than Flash Thompson. His notorious blond hair and conceited attitude were tell-tale signs. You could almost smell the arrogance radiating off of him before you even acknowledged his presence.

"How are you, gorgeous?" He removed his arm from your shoulders to close your locker. Leaning his arm onto the locker above your head, he encased you on your locker with your back against it.

"I'm fine." You dryly responded, uninterested in his pursuits.

"That you are." He gave you a predatory smirk and winked at you. You mentally grimaced. "Anyway. You still with that Morales kid?"

Raising a brow at him, you respond, "We were never together.”

"Huh. He's always by your side, like an over-protective guard dog. So I assumed." Flash said. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. But that wasn't the case anymore. It hasn't been for some time.

This was one of the many times Flash had tried his advances on you. However, it never worked to his intentions since Miles was always there to tell him off. This time was different. Miles was nowhere in sight. At least, within your sight. Meaning Flash had an open opportunity with you. There was no Miles around to try and bite his head off.

"Yeah, well. Not anymore." You muttered. Suddenly feeling awkward, you directed your stare anywhere other than Flash's hungry gaze. An uncomfortable cold shiver ran down your spine.

Flash leaned in, his fingers pushing a strand of your hair away from your face. Whispering in your ear, he told you, "That's too bad. I could treat you better than him, though. He doesn't have to know, baby.”

You looked up at him and tried to hide the disgust that was forming on your face. But, hey. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, you tried to convince yourself. This was a chance to get over Miles. His hold on you was ridiculous, considering you were never actually together. You weren’t going to wait for him to crawl back to you.

You put a hand on Flash’s chest in an attempt to push him away from you. But he misinterpreted it and encased his palm over your hand that was laying on his chest. “See? You’re warming up to me already. You don’t need him.” He cockily said.

Turning your head away from him, you said, “I don’t know, Flash. I’ll think about it.” pretending to consider it. He gave you a displeased look, "What's there to think about? We would be good together, babe." he tried to persuade you. It was evident that he wasn't going to give up anytime soon.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Miles turned around the corner and instantly spotted you. He’s been skipping almost every day. All of a sudden, he felt glad that he didn’t skip today as he saw you with Flash Thompson. Way too close for his comfort. And then he saw your hand on Flash’s chest. That was his breaking point.

Miles saw nothing but red as he walked over to the two of you. If looks could kill, Flash would've been dealt with by the first second he walked around the corner. He sneered, "Back the fuck off my girl, Thompson." shoving him in the chest away from you.

You couldn’t believe him. After all that time, now is when he decides to make an appearance. He was the one that cut you out of his life. Not you, but him. Huffing at him, you spoke up before Flash did. "I'm not your girl. You've made that clear." You rolled your eyes in irritation.

Flash gave Miles a smug smirk at your words, "You heard her. So go fuck yourself, Morales." He spat at Miles, getting up close and personal with him. As Flash glared at Miles, it was clear he was trying to intimidate him. It wasn't working.

You almost didn't comprehend what was happening as a fist collided with Flash's face, knocking him down momentarily. He groaned in pain, holding onto his nose as blood dripped from it.

“What the fuck?” You screeched at Miles’ outburst. Flash was still laying on the floor, stumbling to get up. Before it could escalate further, you pulled Miles by his arm and dragged him into an empty supply closet. Miles opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

"The fuck is wrong with you, Miles? You don't speak to me for months and now you suddenly want something to do with me?" You said in disbelief.

He said bluntly, "I don't want to see you with him again."

His hands traveled over the curve of your hips to your waist, pulling you closer to him. You tried to get out of his touch. Or, you would've. But his hands on you felt too natural. He felt right.

That didn’t mean you’d let him off easy. This was the first conversation you both held in months.

"Well for the past few months, you didn't want to be seen with me either." You quipped, aggravated. His sudden change of heart polarized your emotions. You were conflicted with yourself.

He shook his head, “I’m sorry, mami. There’s shit going on that I couldn’t involve you in. I can’t bring you down with me.” He uncharacteristically apologized.

His words made you become hyper-aware of his hands on your waist. The way he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs. How you almost folded under his touch, but maintained your unbothered facade. No matter how much time has passed, he still made your heart race.

You scoffed at him and continued, "I’m not going to wait around for you like some lovesick puppy. Do you want me or not, Miles?"

Without a moment of hesitation, he quickly said, “You have no fucking idea.” Inspecting his eyes, you tried to find deception within them. What you saw in return was the gaze of a man starved.

“Then earn me.” Glaring up at him, you harshly retorted as you furrowed your brows at him. But one more look into each other's eyes was all it took for the tension to snap in half.

He grabbed you by the waist swiftly and pulled you in, your lips finally connecting. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Your bodies pressed together against the wall of the closet, knocking over supplies. The pent-up frustrations inside of you came undone as you kissed him with all the fiery passion you could muster. You bit his lower lip, making him groan against your mouth. That was a sound you realized you'd love to hear on repeat. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony. Like they were made to fit each other.

His hand traveled to the back of your head into your hair as he pulled it softly, making you muffle a whimper into his mouth.

Miles pulled away for a split second to whisper with a smirk, "Cállate, hermosa. But I'm down if you want everyone to hear." His lips were hovering over yours, only seconds away. You felt both of your chests heaving against one another, his breath overlapping yours. You were sure he could feel your heartbeat.

"Fuck you, Miles." You briskly closed the small distance between both of your lips once again before he could make a crude remark about how 'you'd like that'.

You spent the rest of the class period cooped up with him in the minimal space of the supply closet.

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After school, you looked for Miles. Something you've been restraining yourself from doing over these past few months. However, you were hoping things were different now. In a good way. You'd think spending some quality time in a supply closet together would change things.

But as you looked across the courtyard, Miles was nowhere to be seen. You felt irritated with him once again, but you weren’t going to let him cut you out of his life for a second time.

So you did what any rational person would do. You visited his house to talk with him. You believed that if you had a decent conversation with him, it would fix what broke between the two of you. After all, his mother did tell you that you were always welcome there. His house was the place the both of you created a collection of memories. Memories that you stayed up late thinking about. Before it all went downhill. Knocking on the door, his mother answered it.

You greeted her with a smile, "Hola, Mrs. Morales! Is Miles here?" She gave you a knowing look. Mrs. Morales always did have a knack for knowing exactly what was going on.

Nodding her head, she told you "You caught him at a good time. He's been in and out with his Uncle lately. Come on in." She promptly led you inside the house.

"Gracias, Mrs. Morales." You told her before you made a beeline for Miles' room. Stopping right in front of his door, you knocked. Silence came from the other side. "Miles, I'm going to come in. Please don't be naked." You covered your eyes with your palm as you opened his door.

You didn't hear any yells of protest, so you assumed it was safe to peek through your fingers. As you removed your hand from your face, you noticed he was climbing through his own window. But that's not what made you stop in your tracks. Rather, it was his attire. He wasn't naked by any means. Instead, he was wearing the infamous suit that you've seen on the news time and time again. Over the past few months. The correlation clicked in your brain. He wasn't purposely avoiding you for the last few months. His life was just turned upside down in more than one way. He turned into the Prowler.

He looked just as shocked as you while he climbed through his window. "Fuck, what are you doing here, mami?" He frantically asked.

Closing the door behind you, you said, "I came to speak to you, but it seems like all my questions are answered now." You felt numb.

He didn't have a response. He didn't know what to tell you. It was exactly what it looked like. There were no words exchanged, but much was said within those silent moments.

Breaking the silence, you exclaimed, "Y'know what? Forget it. Forget I came here. Matter of fact, forget we ever met." You just about had it. Miles, the one that used to walk you home, being the Prowler was not exactly something you predicted.

"You know I can't do that." He said. You started to back away from him, turning away. He grabbed your arm with a feather-like touch, despite wearing his steel claws. You knew he wasn't going to hurt you. Not physically, at least. "Just let me explain."

"What is there to explain? That you've been avoiding me for months because you're the Prowler? I don't think anything else needs to be said." You let out a faint melancholic chuckle.

He stared into your eyes as he removed his claws, gently grasping your shoulders. "Mami, just listen to me." He pleaded, "You understand now why I couldn't tell you. That's why I had to stay away. This business is the shit I can't have you affiliated with."

"If you don't want me affiliated, then don't join it." You snapped at him, pushing a finger into his chest.

Your response set off something inside of him as he blurted out, "I'm in love with you. Shit, I love you so fucking much. I always have. You're the only one that's ever on my mind, 'ight? If I permanently lost you, I'd never come back from that."

Those were precisely the words you've been waiting ages to hear. But not like this.

"Miles. I can't be a part of this. I don't want to do this 'back and forth' thing. I can't do this. Not with you." Turning your back on him again, you tried to hold your composure as you stepped away. Out of his grasp. You had no intention to break down in front of him. This time, you were the one walking away. You were going to be the one leaving him.

"Wait," He called out, his voice faltering. You were slipping through his fingers, right in front of his eyes. If he had to beg you to stay, so be it. Even after all that time apart, you've been the sole reason he woke up in the morning. He couldn't afford to let you leave him for good.

"Quédate conmigo, mami. Por favor. I can't lose you again." His voice trembled with desperation. Your steps hesitated, his words plunging knives directly into your heart. You've never seen him like this. And it was a sight you never wished to see again.

So you obliged. You might as well have taken what you said and thrown it in the trash. He had the ability to change your mind with only a few words. Turning back to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. He reciprocated as he enveloped your waist with his arms.

You buried your face in his neck as you whispered, "Don't fucking do that again. Don't shut me out." You placed a light kiss on it. You continued, "I love you too, Miles." removing your face from his neck to stare up into his eyes.

"I promise, mami. It's only ever been you." He softly said, pressing his lips to yours. You kissed back with just as much delicacy.

You were aware it was an incredibly dangerous business Miles was involved in. For him, you'd give up anything. You hadn’t a clue what being involved with the Prowler would exactly entail. It was something you both would have to figure out together.

Your relationship was by no means perfect. But you were both learning. As long as it was with him, you wouldn't have it any other way.

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¿Cómo está mi ángel hoy? - How's my angel today?

Princesa - Princess

Adiós/Chao - Bye

Cállate - Shut up, be quiet

Hermosa - Beautiful

Quédate conmigo - Stay with me

Por favor - Please

(yes the title is a childish gambino reference)

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