#all the women standing together at the end
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Haii!
How do we feel about a smut with pornstar reader & pornstar Konig? Like- their comments in their vids/twts/etc. always saying to collab w/ eachother and after awhile, they finally do 👀
-🖤
(Also sorry if I already sent this- I forgot if I did😭)
You didn't! I love the idea of being shipped with Pornstar!König. The Austrian with a monster cock🤤
Pornstar!König x Pornstar!Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, p in v, oral
3.1k word count
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König is famous in the adult film world. During lock down he downloaded Only Fans and ended up making his own account. His striking blue eyes, hidden face mystery, and 6’10 280 lb frame of solid muscles weren’t the only reasons he became so famous; he also has a 10-inch cock the size of most women’s forearms.
You, on the other hand, are a cam girl turned OF girl. You are known by your fan base never being scared of a challenge. You use toys that make people's jaws drop. Your body being strikingly stunning along with a beautiful face and kinky appetite for sex, you blew up quickly on the platform.
Because of the material you make, your fans instantly made you aware of another content creator, König. After about the 100th comment, you decide to go on your X account and check out his page. Instantly you notice the mask covering his face and his blue eyes. His bio gives his height and weight, your jaw drops. You continue to scroll and see a photo he’s recently posted. He’s wearing gray sweatpants with no shirt. His body is stunning, but your eyes drop to the outline of his erection in his pants, his dick literally hanging down his leg. You smirk now, understanding why the fans think you two should film together. You go ahead and give him a follow.
◅ ◃ ▹ ▻
König has also seen the comments. After the first one he instantly looked you up. His eyes shot open when he saw the photo of toys on your profile. Scrolling down a few posts he sees you, and wow. You’re wearing a pink lace thong with your breast fully exposed. You have a sweet smile on your face and you’re standing in a field of wildflowers. You look ethereal. He instantly took notice of you, but contrary to his online persona, he is very socially awkward. He has no idea how to reach out to you, or any girl; that’s why he only posts solo. Then while he is scrolling looking at his feed, he gets a notification. You just followed him.
He quickly sits up and smiles. He clicks your profile and begins to look at all the photos you’ve posted again. His heart rate is picking up, he doesn’t know if he should message you or wait. That’s when your phone chimed and he got the notification that you messaged him.
> “Hey! I’m sure you know of me from your comments 😂, but I’m y/n!”
He reads your message probably ten times before getting the courage to respond to you.
> “Hey, ja, I know you. It’s nice to finally talk.”
He hits send quickly and waits for you to respond. He can feel his heart rate picking up. He hopes that you’re messaging him to make content together. He can feel his excitement rising as his leg bounces waiting for your next message.
You sit feeling nervous yourself as you look down at your phone. He responded so quickly it didn’t give you time to think of a smooth way to ask about a collab. You’ve only ever filmed solo or with women, never a man.
> “I was wondering if you’d be interested in maybe getting together? I see you mostly do solo, so please feel no pressure. I just figured the fans would love it.”
König stands and punches the air like his favorite sports team had just won the big game. Now he just has to act smoothly and not ruin this.
> “I’d love to.”
Both of you do a little celebration dance, feeling excited about the possibility of filming together. You both continue to message back and forth and work out how you’d both meet on account of him being based in Austria, but you both work something out.
◅ ◃ ▹ ▻
One week later you post on your social media accounts a photo of a plane at the airport. The comments explode with assumptions and more tagging of König. During the next few hours, you continue to post your travels while König doesn’t post at all.
That is until he posts a photo of a small feminine hand in his and then you post a bathroom mirror selfie with a man’s large arm around your waist. You sit with König in your Airbnb on the living room sofa, both giggling as people begin to realize the collab is about to happen.
König paid for you to fly to him, picked you up at the airport, and paid for your Airbnb. You knew König was 6’10, but seeing him in person actually blew you away. Plus, he is so sweet. In person, his face remains covered by the mask. You have questions, but you leave it alone.
Your first day together you spend the day going over health, boundaries, safe words, and any questions you might have for each other. Once everything is settled, you both plan to film the next day to allow you to get some rest.
◅ ◃ ▹ ▻
König wakes up early and works out the day of filming. He eats a light breakfast and takes a long shower to help with his nerves. He is excited to have sex with a woman that he knows is very capable of taking someone his size instead of having only the tip of his cock in someone. Getting dressed in sweats and a black shirt, he makes his way to you.
You are currently sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror to do your makeup. You just do a light natural look for today. You’re wearing a black silk robe over your nude body with two sets of lingerie set out, waiting to get König’s opinion.
A knock at the door, you jump up and rush to the front door. Smiling, you let König inside and motion for him to follow you to the main bedroom.
“Okay, so I have two options for today and I wanted your input.”
He follows you to see a large king size bed with white lush looking comforters and he feels his nerves spike again. He sees one black lingerie set and then a light pink one that looks like the one from the first photo he ever saw of you.
“Pink, it will look great with your skin tone.” König says looking at you with a soft smile behind his mask.
You grab pink and go to the connected bathroom to get dressed.
König walks around the room and sets up the ring lights and cameras for different angles. He stands looking around and waiting for you. Slowly he takes his shoes off when the bathroom door opens and he gets to see you. He’s seen you naked online, but in person you looked even more perfect. He stands and just looks at you for a while before speaking.
“You look lovely.”
“Thank you,” you can’t help but to find his Austrian accent attractive. “Thanks for setting up too.”
“Oh, it’s not a problem.” König reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it off.
Your eyes go over his body and smirk at how attractive he looks. You notice his erection forming as you walk to the bed.
“Do you want to film everything? Like role play and all?” You ask in a soft voice, the tension in the air heavy as you’re both ready now.
“Uh, let's film it all. I’d rather have more to edit from.” And also, because he’d want to watch these moments with you later.
◅ ◃ ▹ ▻
König lifts his mask slightly, the first time his audience will be seeing his sharp jawline and his thin soft lips. His lips meet yours in a tender first kiss as his hands begin to roam over your body. His hand squeezes your breast gently as your lips part and your tongues caress each other’s.
You move your hand down his chest, feeling the small amount of chest hair the covers his chest. His muscles twitch lightly at your touch. His penis now fully erect in his pants as he tastes your lips and feels the touch of your soft skin.
He moves his hands behind your back and begins to unhook your bra. Slipping the straps off your shoulders slowly before pulling it away from your body. He breaks the kiss and gently leans you back on the bed. His lips kiss all over your breasts until he finds one of your nipples. He licks in slow circles around it before closing his lips and sucking lightly. Opening his mouth again he begins to flick his tongue.
You let out a soft moan as your hand reaches for the back of his head, pressing him against you, the fabric of his mask soft. His other hand goes down to your thighs and begins to gently move up them, caressing the soft skin on the inside of your thighs.
He pulls away from your breasts and whispers to you, “Is it okay if I touch?”
“Yeah,” you smile at him asking for consent.
His hand grabs your leg and moves it to where the camera can see everything, He moves the thin fabric of your thong aside and begins to rub his thick fingers between your folds. You’re already wet when he touches you and that excites him knowing you’re so turned on. He moves his lips back to yours as he gently rubs your clit. Small moans leaving your lips, muffled into his. He eventually slips one finger down and pushes it gently into you. He feels the texture of your walls and feels how tight you are. He can only think about shoving himself deep inside of you, but he wants you to get off first.
He moves his kisses from your lips back down to your breast before kissing down your stomach. He moves your leg a little more as he rests his head on your thigh, he kisses your clit before flicking his tongue. Your legs jerk and you sit up to look down at him eating you out. He can’t get over how good you smell and taste. He is surprised you aren’t selling your panties; men would pay big money for this.
“Oh, fuck König,” you moan caressing the side of his face.
König slips in another finger as picks up his pace, as he continues to lick your clit. Hearing you moan his name means that he is on the right path to get you to orgasm for him. Your hand grasps the fabric of his mask, making him smirk before he switches to begin just sucking your clit. Your legs tremble as you drop your head back and lay back down. The sound of your wet cunt gets louder as you cum on his fingers. He keeps going for a while before pulling back.
You lie there panting before you giggle and sit up, “Your tongue is amazing.”
He chuckles and goes in to kiss you, making you taste your sweet pussy on your own lips. You move your hands to his chest before moving down to his cock, pulling back you pull at the waistband of his sweatpants. His heart rate began to pick up. The videos of you deep throating your toys comes into his mind and he gets excited. Lifting his ass, König helps you pull his sweats off of him, boxers as well.
Seeing his cock spring free makes you smile; his cock is as big as some of your toys. König leans back to support himself on his elbows to allow you room but he still wants to watch.
Grasping his dick at the base, you stroke it lightly as you lick the back of his tip. König’s breathing heavy as his blue eyes watch with anticipation. You move your hand and lick from the base all the way up his shaft, back and forth and a few times before finally wrapping your lips around the head of his cock. You begin to suck on the tip and move your head in a fast motion making König moan out. He reaches down and moves some of your hair out of your face.
“Ah, ja, just like that.” His voice shakes as you keep going.
Finally, you lower your head down the length of his shaft. Your full lips wrapping tightly around him as you take his ten inches inch by inch down your throat. König watches in amazement as he has never had a woman be able to take more than half his cock into their throat. He takes a sharp breath before letting a small moan out.
You feel a bit of pride being able to take someone like him, to make him moan like that. You look up at his eyes as you continue to suck his cock.
“Is this okay?” König asks as his hand moves to the back of your head.
“Mmhhmm,” you respond without stopping.
His hand gently guides you motion as the other one is behind him supporting himself. He lets himself enjoy the pleasure of your skills. Gently lifting your face with one hand he brings your lips to his, lifting his mask and kissing you. He wants you fully now.
Pushing your body back without breaking the kiss, his hands caress your body. You both agreed on no condom but to us the pull out method and since both of you are clean. Slowly pulling away from your soft lips he looks down at you and removes your thong, tossing it to the side.
“Are you ready, Schatz?”
“I am.”
“Gut.”
Grabbing you by your hips he drags you forward. He is such a massive man that he can easily move you. You giggle as he does and he responds with a chuckle of his own.
“Your voice is so sweet.” He tells you as he grasps your thigh as pulls one leg back for the camera view again. He rubs himself back and forth over your folds before he begins to push himself into you. His eyes watch your face to watch for pain or discomfort, yet he sees nothing but bliss.
König pushes himself as far in as your tight cunt will take at first. You moan out, grabbing his arm and the bed sheets. Your sweet pussy welcomes him with a warm wet hug and he pushes in more, a moan leaving his lips as you take him.
“You’re so tight, Schatz.” König speaks with a voice dripping with lust. His hips begin to thrust harder into you, letting his desire take over.
Your lips hug his fat cock as he pumps it into you leaving your creamy cum on his cock. He pulls out and stands to grab one of the cameras. He comes back and points it to your pussy as he slides his cock back into you, recording the way your tight cunt can easily stretch for him.
“Look at that beautiful pussy, you truly take cock so well. So fucking tight.” He picked up his pace, holding the camera in place as you reached down and put your own leg back. Your fingers digging into your own flesh as you moan out his name.
“Please König, fuck me.” You look into his eyes begging for him to get you off again.
König returns the gaze as he fucks you harder. The phone picking up the sounds your pussy is making and both of your moans.
“That’s it, cum for me, good girl.”
Your eyes flutter back as your body tenses, your cunt tightening around his cock. He puts the phone down and fucks you through your orgasm letting the other cameras pick it up. His body leaning into yours as your hands move to his back and begin to drag your nails along his pale skin.
“Good girl,” he whispers to you as he lifts his mask slightly to kiss you all over your neck and face. His hands grasp your body tightly as he continues to thrust into you. His balls begin to tighten and he feels the temptation of just cumming deep inside of you, but he can’t.
Quickly König pulls out and grabs the phone again to record. “Come here,” he grabs your hand to pull you up and sits at the edge of the bed. He points the camera down at you as you scoot closer to his cock.
Moving your pillowy lips up and down his cock, sucking as you do. You begin to lick your own wet from his cock.
“Suck it Liebling,” his voice breathy.
You move your mouth to wrap around his cock again. König grabs your hair in his hand to hold your head steady as he begins to buck his hops forward, face fucking you gently. You look up at him, not breaking eye contact as he looks down at you. He moves his 10-inch cock deeper and deeper as he fucks faster. Your eyes begin to water as you close your eyes.
“Open, look at me. Please.” König moans.
Once your eyes open and you look back up at him, he presses your head all the way down. His cock outline is visible in your throat. You gargle on his cock before he pulls it out and begins to jerk off quickly. You open your mouth and hold your breast up waiting for his load.
He cums on you, letting out loud grunts of pleasure as he does. His milky white seed shoots some on your breast, your mouth, but most on your face. He smiles at how beautiful you look covered in him. You play with it a little for the camera before he stops recording.
You both relax on the bed and pant, relaxing. König looks over to you and gestures for you to come snuggle with him. The other two cameras picked up the sweet moment.
◅ ◃ ▹ ▻
The video blows up on both of your pages. Fans ecstatic to see you get dominated by König’s monster cock finally. The chemistry you both had radiating through the camera adding to the passion. People requesting more and starting to ship the two of you.
You have 5 more days in Austria and König is excited to spend those few days with you. He’s at home, late at night, watching the clips of him snuggling you after sex. A small smile on his face as he watches it over and over. He didn’t want to, but he caught feelings. He wonders if you feel the same.
#konig#konig x reader#konig x y/n#könig#konig cod#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#könig cod#könig mw2#konig x reader smut#konig x you#könig call of duty#könig x y/n#könig x you#smut#konig call of duty#cod smut
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Okay Vaggies emotional turmoil I 100% understand and I am LIVING for the angst but can we touch on Carmilla, Clara, and Odette? They just learned that their daughter and sister, their BABY sister is not only alive but also a full grown adult at this time.
They missed everything. All of her firsts and all her heart breaks. They weren’t there when she needed advice. Or for any of her awkward questions. They missed getting to grow up with her. Getting to raise her. Getting to know her. I KNOW they want some way to get that family back together.
And she missed having a family. Having anyone. Unless you count the exorcist cause in a way they are her sisters.
Either way more angst for your mind. And if you write about it more content for me to consume.
Carmilla does meet Vaggie at the door to her compound this time, just as she'd promised. When the angel arrives, the district of warehouses and workers loading and unloading trucks is deserted. The street is still empty and eerily quiet. Vaggie suspects Carmilla’s people are still stocking up from the Extermination. Not much manufacturing to be done while fresh angelic weapons are still lining the streets, waiting to be salvaged.
Vaggie doesn’t even need to buzz the door — as soon as she comes within sight of the camera, the door lifts, and Carmilla is standing there. Just as tall and intimidating as ever, especially compared to her, but her eyes communicate the exact opposite of the impatience they had the last time she'd been here. Now, she really seems like she’s trying to see Vaggie, see into her, instead of like the intruder she'd been before. Vaggie shifts between her feet awkwardly.
“Umm, hi, Carmilla,” Vaggie says, making a waving motion with her hand. What was that, idiot?! Vaggie screams at herself. Why are you such a fucking putz?
"Hello, dear," Carmilla greets her, warm and inviting and so unlike that fierce warrior that taught her all that fancy footwork a week prior. Now she's looking at the angel like she has something to prove. "I'm glad to see you again. Would you come in?"
"Yeah." Vaggie agrees, rubbing the back of her head nervously, and following her inside. The warehouse is just as dark and depressing as the last time she'd been here, and just as empty. No one else is around, and Vaggie wonders why Carmilla is here on her own.
They don't go far. A short trip up the elaborate staircase, and Carmilla turns them toward a small office space at the very top. She opens the door, letting the little angel head inside first, before entering herself and turning on a light. It's much more inviting in here, with big windows and lots of natural light. The space is meant to look like a small apartment, maybe one Carmilla stays in when she's overseeing her workers. A futon and coffee table sit in the corner, with an industrial-sized desk on the other side of the room, covered with papers.
"Sit anywhere you'd like, dear," Carmilla instructs. There's really only one place to sit, other than Carmilla's big executive office chair, so Vaggie takes one edge of the futon. Suddenly, Carmilla reappears with two cups of tea in her hand. She gives one to Vaggie. "I made some tea for your arrival. Hope you like chamomile."
"Th-thank you," Vaggie says, taking her cup. She doesn't drink right away, just rubs her fingers against the rough ceramic surface for a moment, before finally taking a sip. Carmilla sits on the opposite end of the futon beside her. Both women just co-exist in the space for a while, letting the silence permeate, unsure of where to begin. Ultimately, it's Vaggie who breaks the silence.
"I was hoping I could talk to you about...the other day," Vaggie admits, still not able to meet Carmilla's gaze. Carmilla doesn't have that problem. She's staring straight at Vaggie, overly hopeful, fighting the urge to reach over to her, and grasp her shoulder. Vaggie notices the subtle shift in her movement, like she's trying to hold herself back. She smiles...it's a sad smile. One that speaks of unspoken feelings rather than genuine happiness. Vaggie wants that to change. Why is this so difficult?
"It's okay," Vaggie says, finally able to look Carmilla in the eye. "I'm not really a touchy-feely person, except with Charlie. But you can hug me, if you want."
Carmilla had gotten so used to doing it that first day in the hospital. Vaggie can tell she wants to do it again. They'd both been so confused, and desperate for one another's affection. Leaning toward Vaggie slowly, so as not to scare her away, Carmilla scooches closer to her on the futon, and puts one arm around the angel.
Like she'd said, Vaggie is not normally a touchy person, except with Charlie. She gets the impression Carmilla isn't either, except with her daughters. Even so, Vaggie turns her small body into the older woman, and falls into her embrace. Carmilla moves in even closer, short of wrapping herself around the girl again, and starts stroking her long hair, like she'd done at the hospital. It had helped calm Vaggie down then.
For some reason, the movement sets Vaggie off this time, and she struggles so badly not to cry. Pushing away slightly, she rubs her good eye with the back of her hand, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," Vaggie says, ashamed at how easily she crumbles in front of this woman. She's normally made of better stuff than this. "I didn't come here to do this again. I really wanted to talk."
Vaggie keeps rubbing at her good eye, and then at her eyepatch, as if it's hurting her. She does so until the skin on her face and arm starts to turn red and raw. Carmilla pulls Vaggie's arm away, placing it between them in her lap.
"Don't." Carmilla says, squeezing Vaggie's hand. "Don't hurt yourself. I've been doing a lot of that the last few days, too. It's okay. You don't have to hide it."
"It's not okay!" Vaggie exclaims, getting frustrated with herself again. "I came here to ask questions, and maybe give you answers, too. This isn't how it was supposed to go."
"We've got time," Carmilla says, pulling her closer again. Vaggie is thankful for it. At least she can hide her embarrassment in Carmilla's chest, where she doesn't have to acknowledge her tears. "We can just sit here, and talk some more. We can do whatever you want."
Then, hesitating, not sure if Vaggie is ready yet, but Carmilla adds the caveat anyway, "My daugh--Odette and Clara will be here shortly. They've been out gathering supplies. You don't have to, but would you...want to meet them?"
Vaggie remembers Carmilla's other girls. They'd delivered Sir Pentious' weapons that day, when he still found everyone at the hotel so untrustworthy. She'd never given the two women much thought before at all, but admittedly, she is very curious now. She doesn't know what they will make of her...but if they're also family, if there's something she can learn about her would-have-been life from before...there's a part of her that really wants to know.
"Would they...be okay with that?" Vaggie asks. "Do they even know about me?"
"They know about you, yes," Carmilla answers. "I can't...say with certainty how they'll react. They are their own people. But if we want to try and make this work...?"
Carmilla leaves the statement open-ended. Vaggie gets it. These one-on-one rendezvous with Carmilla could go on ad nauseam, and a part of her is okay with that...but another part really wants to know all the extended members of her family. She's not unfamiliar with having sisters before. In a sense, all the Exorcists had been her sisters. They worked together, and trained together. Made small talk, and had each other's backs (most of the time). Maybe this wouldn't be much different.
"Yeah," Vaggie says, acknowledging what Carmilla had been trying to convey before. It won't be easy, but...maybe it's another step they can take together. "I am nervous, but...I'd like to meet them. If that's okay with you."
#hazbin hotel#carmilla carmine#vaggie#odette hazbin hotel#clara hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#sir pentious hazbin hotel#ask#anon#fan theories#vaggie carmilla related au
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i have this idea of gymnast! reader and bokuto that I can't get put of my headddd, like her going to his practice and him going to readers as well 😫 cute
Omgomg this is so cute!! I used to be a gymnast😼
The power couple. Y’all do everything together.
Before he went pro, you both attended the same college. He was captain for the last two years he was there, well known throughout campus, but mainly for reasons other than his volleyball talent. Innocent reasons, of course.
But I mean can you blame them? Look at him.
Big bright eyes, expressive and sweet. Huge too. On top of practically towering over everyone he meets, his vivacious nature makes you comfortable and him a likable person overall. It’s not surprising seeing all of the girls that would attach themselves to him.
He’d politely decline, and looking over his show-stopping smile, it provides enough comfort after being rejected to ask if they can recruit themselves as friends instead. He can’t say no to friends, especially after already saying it once, so he internally sighs and nods his head. It was awkward the first few times but he’s come to learn they never actually call. And if they text, it’s just basic conversation that he feels they don’t actually care to know about him.
You met at a meeting for the athletes held by the school, basically congratulating the hard work and achievements of the individual teams and important players. He went up in ranks for his hitting accuracy, dependability, and being an accomplished six rotation player. An overall asset to his team. He shakes the hand of his coach and an older man, taking his certificate, and standing up on the stage for the picture.
After entering the transfer portal, you were elated when one of the top scoring colleges for Women’s Collegiate Gymnastics gave you an offer. Of course you took the chance. With the sport being more of an individual achievement, even though the scoring is all added up in the end, you consistently dropped incredible numbers for the team. You like vault the best, but your teammates are in love with your floor routine and music.
So you go up next. Your hair moving behind you as you step up to your own coach and shake her hand, then receive the frame, ordered to stand right next to Bokuto.
His weight might be shifting, and his eyes may be flickering back and forth from you to the clapping audience of your peers, but he can’t help it. You’re the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
You’re only a few centimeters shorter, your skin glistens, and your pretty eyes are hid from him when your side profile leaves curly hair fallen over your ears. He forces himself to look forward for the last group picture of the ceremony, making a mental note to look up the name he’s heard called by the announcer more than once.
And he does just that. It was a little creepy at first but that was how you met. Now, you both go to the gym in your free time. He powers you through your sets, promising different motivators (new shoes) and food, while you try your best to do the same to him. Most of the time is spent giggling, but hey. Y’all work out with your respective teams on the days you’re supposed to, so does it really matter?
You mainly watch his games because some of your practices are on the same day. Watching these men swing with all their might knowing people on the other side are intended to receive the hit is insane to you. Watching who he explained is the libero throw himself around or get behind balls that seem to be barreling toward his face. You would literally shit yourself.
Meanwhile, when Bokuto comes to watch you, he admires the technical training and physicality that goes into running full speed at an inanimate object and tossing yourself around. How you manage not only to balance, but make it look pretty, and stay pretty doing it. He claims he gets sweaty and gross.
Sometimes after a workout, he’ll walk into your practice and finds a seat somewhere. He hears fast steps, vault boards going off, mats caving from being landed on—it’s all music to his ears now. He’s unironically close with your coach (as he is all the others, and the dietician), mainly because he’s around for you. You try not to get distracted by his slumped figure eyeing you from afar. It gets hard when you do full out routines at the end and you stick it.
He doesn’t truly understand the scoring and how meticulous it is, just that a fall is bad and you have to try your best not to wobble. Which is exactly why even if it wasn’t your best routine, it looked all the perfect to him, and he celebrates when you land your dismount.
There’s nothing more he loves than watching you get ready before meets. Braiding your own hair or letting your teammate do it, putting glitter of the school colors in spots on your face to match the leotard, doing the makeup, and putting the colorful bows in the bun— it’s all a process to him. You look gorgeous after, even when you’ve tucked yourself away in the school tracksuit that hides those thick legs he knows you has.
That’s what he loves most. God, your legs. Your whole physique really. Long, strong legs and thighs that could crush him. Arms that he has to remind you are sexy when you’re looking at yourself in a dress.
Bokuto is strong, he knows that. He’s been athletic and probably has never been out of shape a day in his life. To be with someone that matches his lifestyle and is amazing at her sport? He considers himself blessed. There’s nobody that understands him like you do.
©️hxltic
#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuu headcanons#haikyuu hcs#god i want him so bad#haikyu x reader#bokuto koutaro x reader#bokuto headcanons#bokuto imagines#hq bokuto#bokuto haikyuu#kotaro bokuto#haikyuu bokuto#bokuto#bokuto x reader#bokuto koutarou#bokuto fluff#kotaro#haikyuu imagines#tysm for the ask!#asks open#answered asks
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The Boys (2019) - 3x08 - “I really thought that deep down you were a hero.”
#theboysedit#the boys#queen maeve#annie january#soldier boy#dominique mcelligott#erin moriarty#jensen ackles#flashing images tw#the boys spoilers#the boys 3x08#it is true she got this epic moment#went head to head with homelander and then sacrificing herself to save everyone#there just isn't much scope in a show like this for someone very powerful and actually good#also yay at ashley deleting the footage#and kimiko being the one to save her#all the women standing together at the end
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why did this episode hit me harder than the baby episode 😭 actually upon .05 seconds of thinking i think i know why and its because i wasnt like...attached to the baby per se, like it was more of a plot point than a character on some level and i always knew that plotline was gonna be super fucked and traumatizing so it wasnt really a shock when it ended up the way it did (although it was still sad!). but i AM very attached to the girls (duh or else i wouldnt be here) and so seeing shauna beat the ever loving shit out of lottie was um. hard to watch but then with this moment of the group dynamic falling apart (although one could argue it was actually being preserved by lottie letting herself be a punching bag so shauna could get it out of her system and not take it out on anybody else) being juxtaposed with them all having this rare moment of beautiful simple camaraderie in the present it just made my heart hurt
#i love tragedy but sometimes i just want them to all be happy forever SORRY i know that's off brand for me#its just something about the complicated bonds between these girls/women#sometimes they cant fucking stand each other but at the end of the day they're held together by something bigger#the shared past they have can either be a bowling ball tied to their legs or it can be a source of strength/bonding between them#and it can be both depending on the day lol#it was just very moving to see the contrast#yellowjackets#yellowjackets spoilers
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vent
#i was hungry today so i think my appetite is coming back despite the pills#and im not sure if thats a good thing#i still cant focus so i mean. lol. lmao even#at least i cant make myself start tasks and my executive dysfunction is as bad as ever#now i have the issue of if i keep getting hungry like before im gonna gain weight again and i dont wanna#look theres nothing wrong with being fat or chubby and god knows im not aiming to be a stick figure but oh my god i dont want to gain weigh#i should work out and get fit like a normal human and that means i should eat right. but i still have that nagging feeling#i love myself. i do. i have the dissociation thing where i cant recognize myself in the mirror tho. and its not good this time.#usually i dont really mind since its like. you know like its not me anyway so what does it matter if that girl is fat or not#but im really self conscious and feel gross and i dont know why it all started back up again#i want to measure it. want to weigh myself. want to count calories and check with measuring tape#but i really shouldnt and i know that if i do i will trigger such a bad episode i might end up in the fucking hospital#i need to hold out until this episode goes away. i need to stand it all until i get my head back together.#i dont wanna get malnutrition or lose weight so fast my skin gets flappy#but every little thing i eat ends up nagging at the back of my head about how if i eat more ill get fat and noone will like me then#its not true. i know its not true. and i know fat people are gorgeous and i am already chubby so what does it matter#but i feel horrible. i dont want to look like this or feel like this or be like this#i want to be the best i can be. i want to reach my full potential. but its not exactly working. i swear to god i wanna love myself#i want to be loved. i want to be adored. i want to be the one someone picks even if the room is full of gorgeous and competent women#i want to be the first choice and for the person to see me as the most beautiful person in the world#to be the first choice and to be everything someone wants and needs. to be the ideal. to be the perfect one even with my flaws#i want someone to look at all the ugly sides of me and look at my fat and my emotional fuckery and my ugly crying and still love me#i want someone to love me so wholeheartedly i wont ever feel like theyd like someone else. that theyd pick someone else. that im not no.1#i want to be that person you do a double take of. to be the one that people get jealous of. to be the spotlight. to be the prettiest one.#its egoistical and selfish and childish and mean and dumb and naive and self absorbed i know. i know that it is#but its still there and its embarrassing . but im not gonna pretend like i dont have these thoughts and feelings.#im not smart or pretty enough to stand out. i dont know what could make me special. i dont know what i do that makes me unique.#what am i? who am i? how do i get better? i want to be better. i want to be better i want to be better i want to be better#i want to reach a new level i want to reach their level i want to be at the top i want to be special i want to be better i want to be proud#i want to be genuinely proud and special and outstanding enough to not feel insecure or inferior anymore
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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)
i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.
i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.
i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.
in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.
i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.
i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.
my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.
i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.
i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.
it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.
almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.
i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.
i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.
write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.
#spilled ink#writeblr#pos#recovery#my brain is like - don't trust it!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! we can't be wrong again!!!!!!#and im like. what if the sorrow is the thing that's wrong though.#what if this - this!!!!! - is the truth
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On Top
Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader
Warnings - Smut, Penis in vagina sex, Cunnilingus, Squirting, Abortion is mentioned once, Angst with a happy ending. Not beta read :0
Authors Note - I think this is the first time I’ve written p in v sex so please bear with me.
Standing in front of the door to the Snow residence, you made sure you had everything. The basket you brought over for Coriolanus and his family was filled with food, gifts, and roses for Grandma’am. You wanted to celebrate Coriolanus’s historic win in this year's Hunger Games. Well, Lucy Grey won, but she wouldn’t have done without your Coriolanus.
Your knuckles tapped the door three times and you patently waited until the door opened to reveal Grandma’am’s signature snow-white hair. She smiled at you and embraced you. She stepped aside and let you enter the home you had become so familiar with over the years.
“Grandma’am, I wanted to bring this little gift for Coriolanus’s big win. The flowers are for you, by the way,” you winked and placed the basket on the table. “Speaking of, where might he be.”
Grandma’am's eyes softened at your comment. “He’s with the dean,” she said, “He will be here any moment. You can wait for him in his room if you’d like.” Grandma’am rushed over to examine a particularly pretty white rose.
You sat on Coriolanus’s bed tracing hearts on his pillow for what seemed like hours before his door opened. He looked frantic as if someone found out something they weren’t supposed to find.
“Come on, Coryo, you’re supposed to be smiling. Lucy Grey won. Aren’t you happy?”
“I cheated,” he sighed.
Your heart stopped. He what? Never in a million years did you think that he would do such a thing. With strong women like Tigris and Grandma’am raising him, you would have thought that he had the decency to break up with a woman before he did that.
Coriolanus shook his head as soon as he realized that you might have been taking his comment in the wrong way. “I cheated in the games. Not on you. I would never do that.”
Your body relaxed and then it shot back up again. “Wait, what do you mean you cheated in the games? Is that even possible?”
Coriolanus explained what he did in order to get Lucy Grey to win. The compact mirror that used to belong to his mother had been packed with rat poison, poisonous to anyone who came in contact with it. He also put his father's handkerchief which was covered in Lucy Grey's scent in the snake's cage. If the snakes were familiar with her scent then they wouldn’t kill her. So it wasn’t her singing that saved her, it was Coriolanus.
“What are they going to do to you?” Your eyebrows scrunched together with worry. You couldn’t lose Coriolanus for his stupid, yet chivalrous actions.
“I don’t know yet. I don’t want to think about the future. Right now, I want to live in the moment with the prettiest girl in all of Panem.” Coriolanus smiled at how your face heated up so quickly, but deep down he was hurting. He knew what his punishment was. Twenty years of service as a peacekeeper in the Districts. He would leave the Capital and everything he’s known since he was a baby. That he could deal with, but losing you would be the hardest thing he would have to deal with.
He knew that you would run to your father and beg him to get Coriolanus out of serving, but he didn’t want you over-exhausting your father's resources. He was a big boy and he needed to learn how to deal with his consequences. He would be fine. After all, Snow lands on top.
He wanted to live in this moment with you. He wanted to memorize every inch of your body. He wanted to hold onto that memory and make it last.
Your smile calmed him. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, eyes focused on your lips.
You nodded your head and smiled into the kiss. It was soft and sensual, vastly different from the kisses that the two of you usually share. Your lips brushed together as your bodies got closer to each other. By the time the two of you broke apart, you were under him, his forearms caging you underneath him. There was no need for him to do that. This is where you wanted to be, with Coriolanus. The toxic and tyrannical world that you lived in was long forgotten as she swooped in for another kiss.
His lips traveled down to your cheek, then your jaw, and settled on your neck. He spent the majority of his time kissing and nibbling at the skin on your neck. There would be pretty little marks on your skin later, reminding people that you belonged to him. Coriolanus doesn’t remember when he got this territorial, but he sure loved the fact that Strabo Plinth’s beautiful daughter was his girlfriend. His girlfriend to mark and fuck and love whenever he wanted (with your consent of course.)
You laughed as Coriolanus licked the sensitive patches of skin that he nibbled raw. “My parents are going to kill me when they see what you’ve done.”
Coriolanus kissed your lips one more time in response to your comment. He then resumed his exploration of your body. His hands traveled down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up to reveal the bra that he unclasped in less than five seconds. He threw it on the floor of his bedroom, letting it get hooked onto the pile of books in the corner.
Coriolanus kissed in between the valley of your breasts. He flicked his tongue over your sensitive nipples. It was cold in the Capital of Panem and unfortunately, the Snow’s didn’t have indoor heating. Maybe it was because they didn’t want to melt.
You sighed in pleasure as Coriolanus continued to explore your breasts. After five minutes of teasing, he began to travel south to the part where you needed him the most. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of your pants, “may I?”
You nodded, “Ever the gentleman.”
With your permission, he ripped your pants off of you and threw them on the floor. They were lost in the pile of clothing that had gathered on the floor. Coriolanus had shed some of his clothing as well. His ripped body was adorned in nothing but his white underwear.
Coriolanus spread your legs apart, “Look at how wet my girl is.” He traced a finger down the cotton of your underwear and slowly slid it up your legs. He wanted to drag this on as much as possible. You let out a grumble of frustration, getting tired of his constant teasing. Coriolanus gave in and got rid of your underwear.
The same finger that was used to skim the fabric of your underwear was now being used to gather your slick and spread it across your sensitive pussy. You took a deep breath of air into your lungs. The feeling was new, but not unwelcomed. Coriolanus flicked his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your clit was pulsing with need. You needed Coriolanus to drop the act and eat you out like he was a starving man.
“Coriol-” Your word was cut off by a moan as his mouth did exactly what you wanted it to do. Coriolanus delved into your pussy, tracing shapes onto your clit with his tongue. Your back arched off of the bed again. Coriolanus’s fingers teased your hole, trying to find the perfect time to ease into your channel.
Coriolanus’s fingers weren’t thick, but they were long making it easier for him to tease your G-spot. He fucked his fingers in and out of you as he sucked your clit. You had to bite your lip in order to keep quiet. Your lips were sure to be chewed raw after this, but they would serve as a reminder that you had a man who was willing to do this for you. Many high-society women told stories about their husbands not pleasuring them when they had sex. It sounded like a horrible life to lead, but they were rich and beautiful so they needed to sacrifice something.
Coriolanus curled his fingers up, letting them knock against your G-spot. He continued to kiss and lick at your clit. You were close. By the way you were clenching down on his fingers, he could tell that the waterworks were coming. Your naked chest rose and fell as you played with your nipples, increasing the pleasure that you felt. Your head fell even deeper into the pillow as a chill ran down your body. That chill eventually led to where Coriolanus was currently still working. He ate your pussy like a starved man, just the way you liked it.
Without warning, your juices painted Coriolanus’s face. He wasn’t surprised that you came so fast. The last time you had sex was two months ago. You were burning for him and he was burning for you.
Coriolanus wiped his face with the back of his hand and laughed. That was the first time he had actually made you squirt. It had always been a personal goal of his after Tirgis explained to Coriolanus how a woman's body works. At first, he was traumatized. He didn’t want to have the sex talk with his dear cousin, but when he laid eyes on you for the time, he wanted to do everything Tigris said and more.
His cock was hard. You could see the outline of it through his white underwear. You would tease him about his tighty whities later. Right now, you were laser-focused on the fact that Coriolanus hooked his thumbs under his waistband and lowered them, exposing his cock to the cold air. His hard cock slapped against his lower stomach. He jerked his cock off, spreading his precum all over his length. He wanted to make sure that it went in as smoothly as possible. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you.
He lined himself up at your core. He slid his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your slick with his dick before he pushed into you. Your insides welcomed him with little to no problem. The stretch felt good. You were all slicked up and ready for him.
Contraceptives weren’t a problem for you. Coriolanus was always careful and made sure to come somewhere that wasn’t your vagina. You didn’t want to have a kid just yet. First, you wanted to study at the University and travel back to District Two if you were given the chance. Then you wanted to get married. Pereferabbly to Coriolanus, but you didn’t know if that was possible yet. With his fate still undecided, your plans to marry the love of your life dwindled. Besides, even if you were to get pregnant your father would have enough money to get you an abortion
Coriolanus’s head fell forward as he buried his cock in your tight pussy. Two months and he had forgotten how good you felt. Your insides fluttered around him as he bottomed out.
Coriolanus began to thrust his cock in and out of you. He was methodical with everything he did. Coriolanus set a rhythm as he fucked into you. He fucked you hard and fast. The side of his bed slapped against the wall and his mattress cracked and groaned as he fucked into you. You prayed to the heavens that Grandma’am and Tigris were in a deep sleep. Or that the walls of the Snow residence were thicker than Coriolanus’s cock.
Coriolanus peppered your mouth with kisses in order to muffle your moans. He kept his pace as he did this. Your breasts jiggled as he fucked into you. Your hands found their way down to your extra-sensitive clit. You circled it with your fingers and moaned in pleasure at the feeling.
His balls slapped against your ass as his strokes became more deep and labored. He was going to come soon. He needed to come soon. He couldn’t hold on much longer. Two months with no sex had gotten to him. “Fuck,” he said under his breath as your pussy clenched around him. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his voice was strained from trying to keep his composure.
“Inside me,” you said. You were close too, the feeling of your finger frantically rubbing your clit and the feeling of Coriolanus's cock buried deep inside of you spurred your orgasm to come out from the woodwork.
You have come a second time, your pussy fluttering and squeezing Coriolanus cock that was still inside of you. A string of curses fell from Coriolanus’s lips as he came inside of you. His pulsing and throbbing cock pushed his come deep inside of you as he continued to fuck you as he came. His thrusts were slow but intentional. He would have lasted a few more seconds, but with the way that your pussy squeezed his sensitive cock, he came instantly.
Coriolanus slowly eased his cock out of you. The both of you were breathing heavily as Coriolanus went to grab a towel from his closet. He eased your legs open one more time as he cleaned you up. He was slow and gentle with it. He knew that you were still sensitive after two orgasms.
His come eased out of you and onto the towel. The sight almost caused him to get hard, but he didn’t feel like tiring you out even more.
Once he was done cleaning you up, he tucked you into his chest and covered the two of you with the blankets on his bed. He kissed your forehead and your cheek. Coriolanus’s love language was kissing. He loved kissing you. He loved doing anything with you, but kissing was his favorite.
Your eyes closed, but you weren’t falling asleep. Not yet. Sex might have been a clever distraction, but now that you were coming off your high you needed to know what will happen to the future of your relationship.
“Coryo, what is going to happen to you? I know that you know what your punishment is. I'm not stupid.”
Coriolanus sighed as he tried to keep his voice from waving. He rarely cried, but in moments like these, he did. Just you and him shielded away from the rest of the Capital were his favorite. “Twenty years as a peacekeeper.”
You let out a shuddering breath as you tried not to cry. Your body ran cold as you repeated those words in your mind. Twenty years as a peacekeeper. Twenty years without your Coriolanus. Your Coryo.
“My dad can-”
“No,” Coriolanus said. “I don’t want your dad to get me out of this one. I need to learn how to do things on my own.”
“What if I had a crazy elaborate plan to get you out of it?”
“Nothing could be crazier than this.” Coriolanus got this crazy idea. It has been sitting in the back of his mind ever since you agreed to be his girlfriend. “Marry me?”
This isn’t how he wanted to propose to you. He had already gotten your father's approval months ago. You were perfect for him and you deserve a perfect proposal. He wanted to take you to a fancy restaurant, get down on one knee, and ask you that way. Traditional and expected of Capital people, but things never go as planned when you’re a Snow.
“Seriously?” You were in disbelief. Of course, you wanted to marry him, but this all seemed a bit rushed. “I mean, yes, I’ll marry you, but Coryo. You’re about to leave.” Then, your brilliant mind comes up with the perfect plan.
You’ll marry Coriolanus, making him one of the heirs to the Plinth fortune. Thus making him more valuable to the Capital. This way you get to marry the love of your life and keep him within arms reach. Were you being possessive? Maybe, but it was better than the dean having to deal with an angry Plinth.
And your plan worked. You and Coriolanus got married a week after he proposed to you. It was a bit rushed, but the two of you were ready. He was going to be a loving husband, and you, a loving wife. Coriolanus’s punishment would be reduced to two months of training in District Two. He would then return to the Capital as a peacekeeper. He would keep the peace during the day and return to you at night.
Turns out Snow does land on top.
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Time to study up on straight people sex!
#coriolanus snow smut#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#young coriolanus snow#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#the hunger games
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I was half asleep and thinking about all the stories like She’s The Man and Mulan (1999) where a woman dresses up like a man in order to do something ManlyTM and how they all inevitably fall in love with the masculinity of it all while still being women (or not, I guess, fiction is flexible and gender is more so)
and I went “give me a man who chooses to dress as a woman instead of resorting to violence. Give me a man who, in finding femininity and softness, can find himself. Give me a man who chooses kindness and love over war and aggression, but the only way he can do so is finding solace in the feminine. Not because femininity is inherently softer, but because society has told him as such. Give me a man who, through trial and error, finds himself learning to love the traditional women’s tasks he’s been clumsily attempting. Give me a man who could never truly fit in with other men, and the women around him protect him and love him unconditionally. Give me a man who cannot stand for himself at first, and then rises stronger together with the people who took him in”
And I realized that “give me a man who dresses as a woman in order to avoid going to war” is just. Achilles. And I want that classically animated movie now. I don’t even care if it’s sanitized like the Disney Renaissance Mulan or Hercules, in fact I’d enjoy that. I want Achilles to choose kindness and love and beauty over the war he never wanted to fight. I want a lighthearted, playful version of Achilles where there’s a happy ending. I know it’s a tragedy, but so were a lot of things that got animated at the time (not even Disney, Anastasia and Quest for Camelot come to mind as well) and I think he and Patroclus can have a happily ever after, too
I also want it to be gay, but I think that goes without saying
#patroclus#achilles#greek myth#greek mythology#animation#disney renaissance#late 1990s animation#happy stories#feminine men#she’s the man#mulan#feminine#femininity#masculine#masculinity#give me uwu soft boi that I can blorbo
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Bucky can’t stand you
Smuttay Smuttay. Imagine Bucky finding you to be the most infuriating person he's ever met in his entire life. He used to strongly believe you should never hit a woman. Being a man from the 40's, he believed that with his entire heart and soul because he was one of the few who hated the way some women were treated by their husbands.
That was until he met you.
God, he was ready to beat your ass.
"Didn't you say you'd never hit a woman" Sam snorted while Bucky's jaw ticked, having complained about you for half an hour straight while you went off the plan completely, taking the mission into your own hands.
"That's not a woman, that's the devil spawn" Bucky said incredulously, watching you make your way to the target with a flirty smirk on your face "How and why is she like this"
"Shut up" you hissed through the coms, your hips swaying as you walked away. "
You pissed him off and you made his cock hard.
You ran your mouth to no end and you made him leak.
You had such an attitude and he'd masturbated d to you more times than he could count.
He hated you.
He hated you so much.
"You're gonna screw this mission up if you keep acting like a desperate whore" Bucky growled as you slinked onto the targets lap, effortlessly pocketing the pen drive from his blazer while skimming your hands all over him. The man was none the wiser, groping your ass, the action making Bucky's blood pressure boil.
You whispered something in his ear before hopping off, throwing a wink over your shoulder before disappearing through the exit of the bar and into the getaway car, signaling to Sam and Bucky that you were successful.
He doesn't breathe a word to you until you were all a the safehouse, glaring at you the entire time while pouring himself a drink.
"Try not to kill each other, I'm going to bed" Sam threw his hands up in defeat, seeing as the both of you would never reach a truce. You shrugged, rolling your eyes at the soldier, making your way to your room instead. Bucky down the dark liquid that burned his throat before following you, his brooding figure brushing your back as you entered your room.
"There a problem Barnes?" You sassed, gasping when he gripped your hair and yanked you back, shoving you against the wall. His metal arm wrapped around your throat, squeezing the sides just enough to make your breaths lighter, his pupils dilated to 100.
"You have a real problem, you know that?" He growled lowly making your stomach flip, your pulse racing a the scent of his cologne when he stood so close to you.
"Yeah? And whats that" your attitude faltered as he pressed his chest against yours, his warm breath fanning on your face.
"You. Never. Listen. It's infuriating. So tell me. What should I do" It took everything in him not to push you down onto your knees, forcing your into submission for once. "You're a brat" He hissed, eyes growing wide when he could smell your arousal which you tried to hide, your thighs squeezing together giving you away.
"Fuck this" Bucky tossed you onto the bed, pulling out the switch blade he had in his pocket. Your dress was sliced off before you could blink, your lingerie torn off next.
"Bucky, what-
Before you could say anything else, he gripped your jaw, squeezing your cheeks together, making you pout with a needy whimper. He gave you a satisfied smirk, running the handle of the knife through your folds, gathering your slick before licking it clean off with a groan.
"M'gonna fuck you and you're gonna take it, then you're gonna thank your Sargent for fucking the brat out of you, understand?"
You nodded, yelping when he smacked your cheek, shaking his head.
"Use your words, kitten"
"Yes, Sargent" You whispered, your heart hammering out of your chest as he started to undress himself, his belt buckle hitting the floor. A new wave of arousal pooled between your legs as he stood naked before you, his cock standing tall and proud. He cocked an eye brow at the way you stared at him, practically drooling as he pumped his length a few times.
He crawled onto the bed, shoving your legs apart, flicking his cock through your folds and slamming into you without warning, making you take all of him at once.
You cried out in pleasure, your arms and legs wrapping around him to ground yourself some how, your cunt fluttering and struggling to accommodate for his girth.
"Buck-Sargent-too-s'too thick" You moaned as he drew his hips back and started to pound into you, snarling with pleasure at the feelings of your nails raking down his back. "SARGENT PLEASE"
"Thats right, beg your Sargent to stop baby, cry when I ruin you with my fat cock" He sat back on his heels, throwing your legs over his shoulders to get even deeper angle, your eyes rolling back until they nearly crossed. "Lookit you going all dumb on my cock baby, such a needy little pussy"
You didn't get a chance to respond, squeaking when he manhandled you till your face was pushed against the mattress with your ass in the air. He spanked your ass raw, shoving his cock back in, setting in a brutal pace.
"Always acting so sassy, making my dick so hard with those stupid skimpy outfits of yours. You're a little slut but you're my slut, understand kitten?"
"Y-Yes-yes-yes-so-good don'on god don't stop" You slurred out, as he rammed into your pussy, the headboard denting the wall with each thrust, slamming your hips back against him.
"That's it. Fucking take it, Nast little slut, sitting in any mans lap, now look at you, huh. Look whose cock you're crying over lil mama, tell me whose cock your all soaked for"
"Yours sargent! all for-you" You panted while his sinful fingers moved to rub your clit, his pace growing sloppy, blinding pleasure starting to consume you both.
"OH FUCKKK I'm gonna cum!!" You cried out, wailing into the sheets, the vulgar sounds of skin on skin carrying through the room. Bucky moaned, fucking you harder, his head thrown back feeling your pussy suck him in deeper.
"Cum, cum on my dick, c'mon baby, give it to me, thats it lil mama, milk my cock-shit-i'm cumming!" Bucky let out a guttural moan feeling you squeeze and pulse around his cock, stilling his hips as he throbbed ropes of his spend into you. You both collapsed onto the bed, blindly reaching for each other with out saying another word, letting soft kisses and cuddles throughout the night do the rest of the talking.
-
"Morning Sam-
"You both owe me money for therapy"
"Sam-
"You shut up before I pawn a piece of that arm"
"Sam-
"You went at it like rabbits"
"Sam-
"I think the bed almost broke into my room"
"Sam-
"I'm never calling you Sargent again, you've tainted the word for me"
"Sam-
"My ears have never been so violated"
Bucky smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist, holding you together. You giggled while Sam gagged in the background again (he 100% approves of you two together but he'll never tell Bucky that).
"Nasty fucks"
#bucky barnes fluff#enemies to lovers#bucky barnes enemies to lovers#enemies to lovers bucky barnes#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky barnes fanmix#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky banres#bucky#james bucky buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x smut#bucky barnes x reader smut#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky x smut#dom bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x f reader#bucky x f reder#bucky x freader#bucky x fluff#bucky barnes smut
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but I would die for you in secret
summary: The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated, and you’re not entirely sure what to even call it. There’s the fact no one can know, so his kid doesn’t find out, and you’re pretty sure he’s ashamed of your age difference—he’s not your boyfriend, but you only fuck each other; this thing started months ago, and Joel does not like it when men give you attention, because he wants you all to himself. But again, he’s not your sexy, older boyfriend.
pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader
rating: E (18+!! No y/n, porn with some plot, explicit smut, Possessive Joel Miller, Joel being a lil dominant, age gap (unspecified, reader is an adult), secret relationship, sneaking around, accidental voyeurism, edging, orgasm denial, mutual masturbation, dirty talk (so much), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), rough sex, explicit consent, creampie, spanking, spit as lube, love confession, Good Parent Joel Miller, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU AU where Joel doesn’t lie to Ellie and they’re good when they get back to Jackson)
word count: 7.1k+
a/n: Hey! I needed a break from my long fic that I’ve been writing nonstop for five months, and I was really missing Joel and Ellie, so here we are. I hope you enjoy! Thank you to @juletheghoul for betaing!
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
Masterlist - One Shot
The relationship you have with Joel Miller is… complicated.
To start with, there’s the age difference. It doesn’t bother you at all, and why should it? You’re both consenting adults who know what they want, but he’s got this idea in his head that he shouldn’t be chasing someone so much younger than him and that you should be with somebody your own age—he mentions this almost every single time you’re alone together, and you've learned a simple flash of your tits or a sudden kiss will make those thoughts disappear.
Then there's the fact he isn't your boyfriend, yet you only fuck each other. His days are spent working whatever job he’s assigned here in Jackson and he’s at your place most nights after his daughter goes to bed—however, that’s a secret; No one can know about you two, even though Joel’s a tiny bit possessive and doesn't take kindly to other men giving you attention; which you're not one to judge because you can't stand when women flirt with him, especially Sandra, his next-door neighbor who won't leave him the fuck alone after the many times he’s told her he’s not interested.
So, again, he's not your boyfriend, but neither of you wants to fuck anyone else; whatever this thing is between you has been going on for over eight months, and he doesn’t want people to know you’re together—yet, any time he catches a man being too friendly with you, there's a 100% chance a grumpier than usual Joel will show up at your house that night, and at some point, while he’s fucking your brains out, he'll let a 'Mine' slip out.
Clearly, you have some kind of relationship with him, and it borders somewhere between fuck buddies and him being your boyfriend; where it gets confusing is it's not all sex with him. If his kid is staying over at a friend's, he'll show up at yours earlier than normal, and usually, with a movie he hadn't seen since the world ended or a record he thought you'd enjoy that you both listen to all the way through for him to tell you facts and anecdotes that he could possibly be the only person on the entire planet who knows.
If you need anything fixed around your house, he'll do it, and sometimes you don't even have to ask. You'll mention something, and the next thing you know, he's at your front door with a toolbox—sometimes, he uses doing repairs as a ruse so people will see him arriving at your place with his tools when, in actuality, he’s there to spend the day with you.
You’re also probably the only person, unrelated to him, he has actual conversations with; there’s hardly any grumbling or muttering.
There is a reason he won't acknowledge you’re dating, and it's his sixteen-year-old daughter whom he doesn't want to know he has a love life—it's to where Joel's basically taken the role of the rebellious teenager, sneaking out of his own home in the middle of the night to ensure she's unaware he left.
It's an accumulation of factors why she can't know. The big two, you think, are your age, and you know for sure he doesn't want Ellie to think she'll be any less important to him or that he's abandoning her if he's seeing someone—he worries she won’t take it well, and from what you know she's been through, you can understand why he’s being so protective.
Do you wish you could openly be in a relationship with Joel? Sure, it'd make you happy to shove it in Sandra, his stupid neighbor's face that he's taken.
That isn't a possibility, though, and honestly, what the two of you have is good, so you're not going to make a fuss about labels.
It's been a few nights since Joel has snuck over to your place, and you know why he hasn't stopped by—Ellie—she's sick with a cold, and to put things mildly, her father is freaking the fuck out that it could turn into something worse, and he won't let her out of his sight.
Now, if a person didn't want their child to know they were dating anyone, they’d keep them separated, right? Well, you live across the street from them—that's how you met Joel; he saw someone had moved into the tiny one-bedroom, one-bath home across from his and came over to introduce himself—and since you live across the way from him, and Ellie, the two of you have this, 'Just being a good neighbor,’ act, where any interactions you have in public, are under the guise that you’re just friendly neighbors. So, Ellie has spoken to you many times and has even invited you to hang out and eat meals with them at their house or in the mess hall, where Joel always does his damndest to act indifferent.
Joel left a simple note three days ago stating Ellie was feeling under the weather on your front door. The next day, you stopped by, as the good neighbor you are, to drop off some chicken soup you convinced the kitchen at the mess hall to make. Joel had let you in with a ‘Thanks’ and took the large bowl from you to the kitchen, and you followed the sounds of sniffles to the living room, where you found the teenager wrapped in a blanket on the couch, her stuffed-up voice exclaiming when she saw you in relief you were there so she’d have someone other than her dad to look at or talk to; obviously, she was tired of him, and with how he was hovering, and fussing over her like a mother hen, you would’ve been tired of him, too.
The man had bags under his worried eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept since she’d gotten sick. After he served her some soup and saw she was eating it, Ellie and you convinced him to take a nap while you hung out with his kid—the kid you’ve had a suspicion for a while knows there’s something up between you and her father, simply because every time the two of you are alone, she grills you about your love life.
The thing is, she always fishes for information you won’t give her, but she never seems bothered by the prospect of Joel dating; frankly, she’s supportive and wants him to be happy. However, that wasn’t something you could tell him because he’d probably end things with you immediately, so you’d have to wait for them to eventually have a heart-to-heart for him to find out—which, you’re not holding your breath with how bad they both are at talking to each other about their feelings.
And now it’s been over three days since you last got laid, and after having great sex regularly, the horniness is hitting you hard tonight, and you need to come.
It might be the dead of winter, but you’ve pushed the blankets to the end of your queen-sized bed, the old sheets not as soft as you imagined they’d once been when they were new, your bare, heated skin pressing into them. You’re lying in the middle of the mattress, your head cushioned by a pillow that’d lost its firmness long ago, your naked legs spread while your fingers rub at your swollen clit just right, the others pinching at your pebbled nipple to have the pleasure welling up inside you. You’ve been biting your bottom lip so much it’s sore, your breaths panting from your lungs, the wood stove in the living room keeping your house warm, and that, combined with your arousal, has a thin layer of sweat coating your body.
Sure, you can get yourself off, but the orgasm will be nowhere near as good as what Joel coaxes from you; it’ll take the edge off, at least, so you’ll feel a little better.
For the last hour, you’ve been building yourself up, almost hitting your peak, and stopping, edging yourself over and over again to try to make yourself come as hard as you can by your own hand to assuage some of your need—the sheets are wet under your ass where you’ve dripped onto them.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, thinking about that one night Joel saw some guy about your age at the bar laying it on thick to get you to leave with him, and how after you turned him down and left, a familiar presence followed you along the dark streets. You had to keep quiet when those big, gun-calloused hands you knew all too well pulled you into the stable that had nobody in it except the horses—Joel fucked you from behind against a wall, having to brace yourself with your arms on it. You remembered his palm over your mouth to muffle your sounds and him blanketing himself over your back to have his lips at your ear while he pounded into you hard and fast, quietly grunting about how you were his and that no one could make you feel as good as he did. There was no forgetting how his cock stretched open your cunt, or how before he sheathed himself inside you, you heard him spit on his fingers to slick himself up; the way he made you come around him while he circled your clit with those same digits. The memory of how he’d worked himself up so much he’d forgotten to pull out and spilled deep in your pussy, has you so close to coming by your hand you moan loudly, “Joel.”
“Stop,” the familiar gruff voice makes your eyes snap open as you gasp, immediately sitting up on your elbows.
There at the foot of the bed is the man on your mind—he must’ve taken off his winter jacket in the living room—his green flannel shirt is gaping from most of the buttons being undone, revealing his chest, his grey waves of hair looking to be slightly damp from melted snowflakes. What steals your attention is the fact his jeans are unbuttoned and open, and he’s slowly stroking his hard dick; from how the tip is angry red, leaking precum, and his shaft shines, he’s been watching and jerking off for some time.
“Joel,” his name comes out as a whisper, and your eyes flick up to his, finding them dark and staring hungrily between your legs at your glistening cunt.
You’re so happy to see him you’re not even mad he ruined your orgasm, knowing he’ll make it up to you.
“How many times have you made yourself come while I’ve been busy?” he asks, finally meeting your gaze, his expression grumpy.
“No-none,” you stammer.
His eyebrow lifts. “You lyin’ to me, sweetheart?”
“No.” You shook your head. “Are you mad at me…?”
His face pinches in confusion. “What? No. I’m not mad at you, baby. I’m mad at myself for leavin’ you hangin’.” He undoes the last two buttons on his shirt and shrugs it off for it to fall to the floor, pushing down his pants to step out of them, now standing before you completely naked.
His body is a tapestry of littered scars that tell of his fight to survive this long, some from injuries you’re sure should’ve killed him. Yet, somehow, if by spite or the grace of God, he managed to stay alive—your fingers have traced many of them, mapping the silvery and pink lines in the quiet of the night with only the glow of a bedside lamp. With what people have to do in order to keep living these days, they rarely like to share the stories behind their close calls to death. Still, there’s a jagged scar low on the right side of his stomach lesser men would have died from, you noticed the first time he took his shirt off, and you always wanted to know the story of. Surprisingly, he told you how he got it a few months into this not-not relationship when you asked.
Excitement pools in your belly, your pussy throbbing needily, watching as he climbs onto the bed to kneel in front of you, between your legs, down by your ankles.
“Touch yourself,” he orders and takes himself in hand again, languidly pumping his cock. “I wanna watch you make yourself come; then I’m gonna show you how I’m better than everyone, includin’ you, at gettin’ you off.”
Your cunt clenches because he is better, and the promise has you doing as he said, sliding your hand down to the apex of your thighs to rub your clit the way you like while you watch him fist his shaft. This isn’t the first time he’s watched you touch yourself, and you’re sure if it was anyone else, you’d feel embarrassed, but with how the desire is clear as he stares at what you’re doing, it spurs you on.
Having been so close to coming when he told you to stop, and now, it’s turning you on so much that he’s jacking off to what you’re doing, all of it is building you back up quickly, the familiar heat growing at the base of your spine.
“Just like that, baby,” he rasps and wets his bottom lip. “Keep rubbin’ that pretty pussy—did you miss me?”
“Yes.”
He hums in the back of his throat. “Missed how good I make you feel—how I stretch open that perfect cunt with my cock? Do I fuck you so good, you were thinkin’ about me to make yourself come?”
The strokes of his hand sound wetter, your arousal drooling onto the bedding while the muscles in your belly begin to tighten.
“Yes,” you gasp.
“That’s right, you were. So fuckin’ pretty spread out like this for me—I wanna taste you, shove my face in your pussy, and drown in it; just look at how you’re drippin’ for me.”
“Joel,” you moan. You’re so close it’s not going to take much more.
“God, I fuckin’ missed that sound; I missed hearin’ your voice and how good you smell, how soft your skin is, and the few hours I get to sleep next to you—come for me, baby. Come all over your fingers, and I’ll give you my dick—I’ll make those gorgeous eyes roll back in your head and give it to you so good, I ruin you for anyone else.”
He’s already ruined you for anyone else, and you doubt there’s another who’d fuck you as good as him.
It’s the thought that he’s yours and no one else can have him like this that sends you over the edge, your body seizing up as you come, pleasure erupting from your center as you moan his name.
He doesn’t give you a chance to recover, batting away your hand to dive in and bury his face in your wet heat. He shoves his tongue inside your soaked hole, groaning loudly as he laps at your come, your body trembling when he drags the flat of it up through your folds to suck your clit between his lips. Your fingers press into his hair, soft sounds leaving your throat at how good it feels.
The one orgasm isn’t enough—you need more, his mouth igniting arousal to burn hot in your belly, making you feel achingly empty. He’s licking up every bit of your need, coating your sex, moving to flick his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves. You’re feeling greedy; what he’s doing isn’t enough, and you want, no, need him inside you.
You pull at his hair as you tell him in a somewhat whiny tone, “Fuck me, Joel—stop making me wait.”
His chuckle vibrates into your sensitive skin before he rises to kneel with a groan. “Impatient.” He smacks your thigh. “Flip, ass up.” And it’s not a suggestion, his hands on your waist helping you to roll over, pulling your backside up into the air while your torso is against the sheets. Your knees are sinking into the bed and spread a little, putting yourself on display for him, the mattress jostling when he shuffles forward, feeling his body heat behind you. His palm lands on your asscheek hard, the sharp sting making you moan. “Now, ask me nicely to fuck you.”
You should’ve known he wouldn’t care for your lack of manners.
Your head is resting on your crossed arms in front of you.
“Joel, will you please fuck me?” you ask as sweetly as possible.
“Yes.”
The sound of him spitting on his fingers meets your ears, and you know he’s slicking himself up. One of his hands holds your hip, the other guiding his cock through the lips of your pussy to wet it even more, nudging your clit—it doesn’t seem like he’s in a mood to tease too much. Your eyes slip shut when he notches himself at your entrance and starts slowly feeding himself into you, your tight, velvety walls expanding to take the considerable girth of him, whining as he fills you. He slides all the way home, your cunt throbbing around him.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groans. “Is this what your needy little pussy wanted?”
“Yes,” you moan.
He’s as deep as he can go and pulls out until just the tip remains, and slams back into you hard enough to knock the air from your lungs—oh, this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you to the point your legs are too shaky to walk on afterward. The pace he sets is deliciously brutal and has your eyes rolling back, all thoughts leaving your brain, unable to think with how he’s pressing into so many heavenly spots, his grip tight on your waist.
The sounds in the room are obscene—the springs beneath you are squeaking, and there’s the noisy slap of his hips colliding with your ass, Joel grunting with each dull smack of his skin to yours, while you gasp out moans.
He’s fucking you so good, your orgasm is already taking shape, its fiery tendrils tightening in your core with each stroke.
“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says through gritted teeth. “You’re so fuckin’ wet—I could live in this perfect pussy.”
His hand slaps your ass hard enough the crack echoes amongst the four walls, the sweet pain making you clench around him and press back into his thrusts, crying out his name.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he asks. “Did you miss getting fucked like this? You love this—this pussy is mine, isn’t it? You’re mine.”
He’s not wrong; you are his, and all you can do is mewl in reply, waves of your arousal seeping down his shaft to catch on his balls.
His gun-calloused hands adjust on your hips to get a better grip, pulling you back each time his dick impales you, fucking you harder and faster, hearing him panting behind you—the wet sounds of him working himself in and out of your drenched cunt, are loud, and lewd.
You’re so close; you’re just needing—
Joel leans forward to get his hand under your body to the swollen pearl of your clit, circling it how he knows you like it.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he grits out. “Let me have it—soak my cock with your come. Let me feel you—I know you’re almost there.”
That’s it—the knot in your belly winds tighter and tighter until the tension snaps, and you fall over the edge with a silent cry, your pussy clamping down on him hard enough that it slows his rhythm almost to a stop. Joel groans loudly while euphoria explodes out from your center, feeling it spread to your fingers and toes. Your brain goes blissfully blank, and your legs tremble under you like a leaf in the wind.
A gasp leaves you when he suddenly pulls out and flips you onto your back, taking his place between your spread thighs. He puts your legs high on his ribs, holding his weight on one arm while his other hand sheaths himself back inside you.
It’s not surprising that you’ve found yourself under his hulking frame with his hips snapping in and out of you—when you open your eyes, his are closed, his expression looking pained, and it’s his broad shoulders and head that take up your vision. This is how Joel wanted to fuck you from the start, but he’s a gentleman and did your preferred position first.
Your fingernails end up digging into the skin of his shoulder blades for something to hold on to, and he kisses over your chest to duck his head, wrapping his lips around a stiff nipple and sucking on it, the shock of pleasure causing a moan to slip from your throat. His breaths are heavy, and you know he won’t last much longer.
Your voice is hoarse when you speak, telling him what you know he needs to hear, “I missed you, Joel.” He whines. “I want you to come for me.”
His mouth leaves your breast to crash against yours, and you’d been wondering how long he’d go without kissing you—something about kissing while he fucks makes him come faster; maybe it’s the intimacy?
He’s told you the last woman he was with back in Boston wouldn’t kiss him because sex between them was just scratching an itch, and she wasn’t looking for anyone to replace her dead husband.
All you know is Joel loves kissing and touching—he’s admitted that he sleeps best with you snuggled against his back as the big spoon, which, you’ll never tell him, you think is adorable with how he scares people enough, they move out of his way when he walks down the street.
His kisses are fervent, and you give just as good as you get, welcoming his tongue when it presses between your lips, his pace speeding up. You love having him inside you, the way he fits all nice and snug to fill you completely. This is what you’ve been needing, and it’s perfect.
When his rhythm gets uneven, you expect him to pull out at any second to spill his release on your belly. What he does next, you’re not expecting.
Joel shoves his face into the crook of your neck, his facial hair scratching your skin, feeling his hot breaths.
He says something that’s too muffled to make out, so you pull on his hair to make him lift his head, finding his eyes dark and glazed over, looking totally and completely wrecked. His pace slows to him rocking in and out of you.
“What did you say?” you ask.
“Can I—” he pants. “Fuck, can I come inside you?”
The question has your tight walls constricting around him.
“Fuck,” Joel hisses, his eyes closing. “Please, can I?” he asks again.
The answer that immediately pops into your brain is ‘yes,’ but thinking about how the only times this man has finished inside you in the past were all accidents, you’re worrying he’s just pussy drunk and not thinking straight; that if you fell pregnant, something you didn’t mind, he’ll regret it.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
He looks at you and nods. “Yes, I know—” The consequences, he leaves unsaid. “—please.”
“Then yes, come for me, Joel—fill me up.”
He raggedly moans, his face falling into your neck again. His thrusts speed up and become frantic as he pounds into you, your heels digging into his ass, feeling the muscles flex. He works himself up until he presses into you one last time as deep as possible and comes with a guttural groan—his dick jerks inside you, and the hot spurts of his spend gush into your depths, filling you up. Electricity zips down your spine as you moan, your tight walls throbbing around him while he grinds his hips, fucking his come deeper.
The weight of his body is welcome when he eventually slumps onto you, and instinctively, your fingers slide into his hair, scratching your nails lovingly against his scalp, the man practically purring on top of you.
For the first time in three days, you feel happy and finally sated, loving how he’s stuffed you full of his cock, and come. There’s no talking as your heartbeats slow together and your breathing evens out, basking in each other’s presence. Your eyes are closed, and you’re choosing to ignore your shaky limbs.
It’s hard to imagine a life without Joel, which is odd since up until this point, most of it had been spent without him, or anyone really. What you actually mean is you don’t want to imagine a life without Joel and Ellie—you think she’s a great kid, and you have a soft spot for her; plus, she and her dad are a package deal. Then there’s Joel, who you’re absolutely and completely in love with, and it bothers you that you don’t know what this relationship between you is or if he even feels the same as you.
Minutes pass, the old, wooden bones of your house creaking as the winter wind gusts outside.
“Joel?” you break the silence.
“Mhmm?” he hums, nuzzling into your throat.
“What are we?”
“Huh?”
“What are we? Like, what is this thing that we’re doing?”
His head lifts, and he pulls out, rolling off you to lie beside you on his back, pressing his hands to his face.
“Somethin’ I shouldn’t be doin’ in the first place,” he finally answers.
You turn on your side toward him, propping your head up on your arm. “Take my age out of the equation.”
His palms lift, and he looks at you confused. “What do you mean?”
“For some fucking reason, you are stuck on my age—take it out of the equation; if that wasn’t a factor, would you openly date me?”
“Well, there’s Ellie—”
“—let’s pretend she doesn’t give a fuck about your love life,” you cut him off, “and actually wants you to be happy, and my age doesn’t matter—would you openly date me?”
“Yes.”
“So, you have feelings for me?”
“Of course.”
“Do you love me…?”
“Yes,” he whispers, covering his face again.
One word has your heart picking up in speed.
“I love you, too.”
His head whips in your direction with an expression of bewilderment.
“What?” he asks.
“I’m in love with you—have been for a while, and I’m fine with doing what we’ve been doing if that’s the only way I can be with you, but I kinda, sorta, would like it if you thought of us as a couple, and weren’t ashamed of me…”
A secret relationship? You’re fine with that. But Joel being ashamed of you? It fucking hurts.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says too quickly.
“Joel, if Ellie were okay with you having a love life, you wouldn’t openly date me because of how old I am—I’d just continue being your dirty little secret that one other person knows about.”
His eyes dart away, and the sigh he lets out is long and weary.
“I’m not ashamed of you,” he says. “I’m ashamed of myself for fallin’ for you and not bein’ able to give you the future you deserve. I just felt like I was stringin’ you along when you could be with someone who can offer you more, but I’m so fuckin’ selfish.” He looks at you. “I want you, and I don’t want anyone else to have you—I can’t let you go, even though I should cut you free.”
Your fingers brush back the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead. “I don't want anyone else, Joel—I want you, and you’re not stringing me along. I’m happy with you and any future I can have with you and Ellie.”
He’s frowning. “If only it were that simple,” he sighs.
This is a conversation you thought might make him end things with you, but maybe giving him a slight nudge will be okay—at least, you hope it will.
“It is that simple,” you tell him. “I’m gonna tell you something that if you can work up the nerve to talk to her about, she'll confirm it.”
His eyebrows furrow. “What?”
“Ellie doesn’t care if you date. She’s told me she wishes you weren’t such an asshole ‘cause then the only negative thing about you is how ugly you are, and people love ugly things all the time, and if someone loves you, then you won’t die alone, plus it’d hopefully make you happy, and she really wants you to be happy—that’s pretty much what she said word-for-word.”
His eyes close, and the sigh that leaves him is that of a father who’s real tired of their child’s shit, and you smile.
“That’s Ellie,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not even sure how I should be feelin’ right now.”
“I hoped you’d be relieved at least, possibly even happy.”
He looks at you. “Yeah, I’m relieved and happy but also a little ticked at her embarrassin’ me like that.”
Scooting closer to him, you lay half on top of him with your arms folded on his chest, resting your chin on them to stare at his pretty face.
“Don’t be embarrassed. It was said out of love—she loves you.”
He sighs again, wrapping his arms around your bare back.
“I guess she does, even if she’s mean. Jesus, I can’t believe I just needed to talk to her sooner.”
“That’s usually how things work—it’s called communication, and you should talk to her.”
His eyes narrowed, and he smacked your ass, making you giggle. “There’s no need for the sass, sweetheart, and I was plannin’ on bitin’ the bullet and tellin’ her about us in the next couple of days.”
Your eyes widened. “You were? What?”
“Yeah, uh, I had a hard time with Ellie bein’ sick, and when you came over, I didn’t feel like I was goin’ insane with worry. Havin’ you there made it better, and I missed you.” His lips dip in a frown.
“I missed you, too—you were really gonna tell her?”
“I was.” He nods. “With how happy she was to see you, I thought maybe she’d be okay with it.” He shrugs.
You smile. “I think you’re right,” you reply, giving him a quick kiss. Meeting his gaze, you ask, “Is she feeling better?”
“Yeah, and thank Christ, she is.” He looks visibly relieved. “I think it was that soup you brought over—thank you for that and for givin’ me a chance to sleep.” He pecks you on the lips.
“It was no problem. I would’ve been there the entire time had it not been suspicious.”
He smiles. “I know.”
“Good. Sooo, I’m wondering, what are we now?”
“A couple,” he answers. “I’ve thought that for a while, but I’m too fuckin’ old to be callin’ myself your boyfriend.”
“I quite like having a sexy, older boyfriend.”
You squeak in surprise when he rolls you onto your back, your legs automatically opening for him to nestle his hips between. He’s holding himself up with his arms beside your head while yours loop around his neck, his lips pressing to the side of your throat, kissing the taut skin.
“You like havin’ a sexy, older boyfriend, huh?” His question is muffled, and you swallow hard when he sucks on your pulse point.
“I do,” you reply.
“I like havin’ you.” He’s kissing and nibbling along your jaw.
“‘Cause no one else can?”
He nips your chin, then hovers his head over yours to look you in the eyes.
His expression is serious. “Yes,” he says, “and I love you—if Ellie really doesn’t give a shit about me datin’, then every fuckin’ person in town is gonna know you’re mine.”
And something about that declaration thrills you.
“I’d like that.”
He gives you a small smile and kisses you for a moment before a thought comes to him, and he pulls back to meet your gaze.
“Maybe that neighbor, the annoyin’ one who doesn’t seem to know the meanin’ of no, will finally get it through her head, I’m not fuckin’ interested.”
You glare off into the distance. “Fucking Sandra,” you seethe.
The first time he met you, Joel knew he was fucked.
All he wanted to do was be polite and introduce himself to his new neighbor, then you opened the door, and his brain stopped working because you were so beautiful. It didn’t help when you blatantly checked him out, clearly undressing him with your eyes before looking entirely too pleased with what you were seeing.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he wouldn’t have accepted your offer to come inside for a drink; he wouldn’t have kissed you back or laid you down on the couch to eat your pussy; he wouldn’t have let you choke on his dick or crawl into his lap and ride him; he wouldn’t have gotten so lost in being buried in your wet, warm, perfect cunt and your lips on his that he forgot to pull out when he came; he wouldn’t have gotten addicted and returned to you almost every night after.
If he’d been a stronger, honorable man, he would’ve ended things before it went too far and definitely before he fell in love with you.
From the beginning, he knew he was way too old for you, and he didn’t understand why you wanted him or kept letting him into your house. He had nothing to offer you, yet even when the opportunities arose for you to go home with men your own age, you rejected them and welcomed him into your bed instead. It made little sense that someone as young and beautiful as you would give someone like him all of your attention.
He’s lost count of how many times he’s told you that you’d be better off with somebody younger than him. It’s usually when he remembers your age or when you don’t know what he’s talking about when he brings up certain things from how life was before it all went to hell. He says the words out loud, practically a reflex at this point when the guilt gets to him, and as quickly as the feeling comes, it goes because, as he told you, he’s selfish; he doesn’t want you with someone else; he wants you all to himself. When you tell him there isn’t anyone you’d rather be with than him, it feeds something deep inside of him that won’t let you go, and hearing you say you love him has only made it stronger—you have his total devotion.
Ellie being sick messed up his head enough that in the moments when you came to mind, he was plagued with the thought that you probably found someone new. The only time he felt a modicum of peace was when you stopped by, and with that and how much his kid loved you being there, and in general, he came to the conclusion he couldn’t lose you:
It was time for him to tell Ellie.
Joel isn’t delusional; you’d grow tired of only getting his nights and the occasional day, eventually, and he needed to give you more of himself, which required his daughter to know about your relationship.
If Ellie knew, then he could give you more.
He’s ashamed of himself for hiding your relationship and, in turn, not having much to offer in terms of a future. It bothers him so much that he hasn’t been able to be with you out in the open because you deserve better than being his dirty little secret, as you call yourself.
He hates that.
He wants everyone to know you’re his and that he is yours.
When he realized he was going to tell Ellie, he started imagining how your relationship would change. You could finally have a life together, and it had him thinking about things he never would’ve considered before you and actively tried to prevent in the past, but you didn’t mind the idea of bringing a new life into the world, and he thought that might not be so bad; Jackson’s safe, and he has no doubt you’ll be a great mother—and it’s a future he’s pretty sure you want since your reactions have always been positive when he accidentally finishes inside you. That’s why tonight he decided to say fuck it and asked if he could; he wasn’t worried about the consequences anymore.
He’s kicking himself in the ass for not talking to Ellie sooner.
The only reason he hasn’t broached the subject with her is after what happened in Colorado, Joel’s treated her like she’s a fragile piece of glass that he doesn’t want to risk getting broken again—the way she lost her spark after that resort town killed him; and what happened at the hospital? If he had the chance, he’d murder every one of those Fireflies again for how fucked up she was when he told her their plans to kill her without knowing for sure if they could make a cure or not and that her life meant nothing to them.
It took a lot of time for him to put her back together again, and being in Jackson helped a lot with her making friends and having some semblance of normalcy. But he’s worried any major changes will mess her up, and add in her biggest fear of ending up alone, Joel dating seems like a recipe for disaster—Ellie will always be his top priority, even if it’s at the expense of his happiness.
It’s early morning, and he’s got another thirty minutes before the sun will begin its ascent on the horizon, fresh snow coating the ground, the temperature freezing. Joel is skulking home from your place to be there before Ellie wakes up.
His point of entry is the back door that leads into their kitchen, which doesn’t make as much noise as the front and can be locked when he leaves. He’s staying close to the side of the house, heading toward the backyard, and peeks around the corner to check the vicinity—his heart pounds when he sees a dark figure trying to get into the door, Joel pulling the knife, he walks around with, off of his belt, keeping his steps light, silently approaching them.
“Why the fuck don’t we have a light back here?” he hears them quietly mutter.
“Ellie?” Joel says at regular volume.
“Ahhh!” she screams, turning in his direction. Her hand is over her winter coat-covered chest. “Jesus Christ, Joel! Way to give me a fucking heart attack!”
He walks closer, sheathing his knife, as he says, “What the hell are you doin’ out here?”
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
His hands perch on his hips. “Doesn’t matter—you, on the other hand, just got over bein’ sick and shouldn’t be out in this cold. Move, I’m gettin’ your ass inside.”
She stepped aside, and he walked over, quickly unlocking and opening the door; he grabbed her by the shoulder and firmly guided her inside. He flicked on the room’s light once they were inside, and the door was closed and locked, Joel crossing his arms over his chest.
“Now, where the fuck have you been?” he asks.
She’s unzipping her coat. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I asked you first.”
She shrugs off her jacket and tosses it onto the kitchen table. Joel sighs, walking over to pick it up—he’ll hang it alongside his by the front door before he goes up to his room.
“I was at the same place you were.”
He keeps his face neutral, but his heart is thudding, and he’s pretty fucking sure she wasn’t at your house.
He meets her eyes. “And that is?”
She smirks. “My secret girlfriend’s.”
“Goddammit.” His fingers press to his forehead as he closes his eyes. “You fuckin’ know—how the fuck do you know?”
“Let’s see, she’s literally the only person in town aside from me and Tommy’s family you like. You stare at her with, I don’t know what to call them, googly eyes? It’s that look the dudes have when they see the love of their life, or whatever, in those shitty romantic movies we like to make fun of. I’ve heard you call her ‘sweetheart’—” She fake gags, and Joel sighs. “—you’ve gone over to her house to fix so much shit that, at this point, it’s gotta be a whole new house. You sneak over there every fucking night. Oh, and when she sees the lady next door, the crazy one who’s got a real hard-on for you—gross by the way—when she sees ‘you can call me, Sandy,’ flirt with you—double-gross—I’m pretty sure she’s plotting murder; you’re definitely plotting murder when guys hit on your girlfriend—which, I don’t get why the two of you pretend like you aren’t together; is she embarrassed that you’re so fucking old and ugly, or something?” His teeth clench, and he glares at her. “God, don’t give me the murder eyes, Joel! I was kidding!” She playfully punches his arm. “Kind of… I mean, I’m happy you found someone who loves you even though you’re a grumpy asshole and look like that.” She points at his face.
“You done?”
“Telling you you’re old and ugly? Sure. For now. But I have one more thing that gave you guys away.”
His eyebrow lifts. “What is it?”
“When she came over the other day while I was sick as balls and hung out with me, you slept. Joel, you do not fucking sleep if there’s anyone else here besides me, which is why if I wanna have a sleepover with my friends, I have to go to their houses.”
“Were we really that obvious?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
She’s clearly confused. “I thought we were avoiding the topic.”
“What topic?”
“Like, relationships—you never said anything to me, so I figured it was something we don’t talk about.”
He cringes. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel…”
She smiles. “I don’t give a fuck if you date, Joel—if you’re happy, I’m happy.”
He matches her look. “I’m pretty fuckin’ happy. Are you happy with your uh, girlfriend? Have I met her?”
“Yeah,” she nods, grinning. “It’s Cat!”
His eyes round—he was under the impression Cat is her best friend, and he has met the other girl many times.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re way better at this secret girlfriend stuff than I am. I had no clue. I like Cat; she’s got all those neat tattoos.”
“She does!” she replies with a grin. “And I’m getting one!”
“You’re what?!”
Masterlist - One Shot
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#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller/reader#joel miller x reader#joel the last of us#joel miller smut#wheresarizona writes#joel miller x you#Joel miller/yo
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this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!
Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)
Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.
Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol
Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx
If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.
“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.
Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”
Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”
When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.
Unknown Number
Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…
Y/n
Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.
The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.
Unknown Number
WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?
Unknown Number
YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN
Unknown Number
If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit
Unknown Number
LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE
Unknown Number
Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder
Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.
Y/n
You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!
His response was immediate.
Unknown Number
Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?
Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.
Y/n
*Image Attached*
Y/n
I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.
The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.
Unknown Number
Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.
Unknown Number
You are very pretty tho
Y/n giggled,
Y/n
Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.
Unknown Number
Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.
Y/n
How do I know this for sure?
Unknown Number
Trust me?
Y/n
Okay, ig. What’s your name?
The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.
“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.
However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.
Unknown Number
Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?
Y/n
I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)
Y/n
Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny
🏎️
The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.
Bob!
Good morning :)
Bob!
Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?
Y/n
Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.
Bob!
GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n
Y/n
Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol
Y/n
I live in London! What about you?
Bob!
Monaco
Y/n
Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?
Bob!
NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho
Y/n
Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.
Bob!
😭
Y/n
No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces
Bob!
Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.
Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.
She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.
Y/n
Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.
Bob!
Ok! text me when you’re free?
Y/n
yesss
—
There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.
Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.
Bob!
Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!
Y/n
sry, i just got home.
Bob!
Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??
Y/n
yeah
Bob!
Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you
Y/n
that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?
Bob!
you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times
Y/n
thats love fr
Y/n
but yeah its been a long day
Bob!
oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?
Y/n
Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.
Bob!
Talk to me about it then <3
Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.
Y/n
it’s ok. Thank you tho bob
Bob!
Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?
Y/n
no one?
Bob!
you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.
Y/n
We barely know each other.
Bob!
Do i look like i care?
She laughs and types,
Y/n
Bob, I don’t even know what you look like
Bob!
We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything
Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Y/n
People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?
There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.
Bob!
I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.
There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.
Y/n
Thank you. That means a lot.
Bob!
Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.
Y/n
When were you experiencing it?
Bob!
A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.
Y/n
You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.
Bob!
There’s not much to tell, Y/n.
Y/n
You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?
Bob!
I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.
Y/n
VAGUE
Bob!
Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs
Her eyes twinkle,
Y/n
Haha yeah right brotha
Y/n
That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.
Bob!
Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.
Y/n
You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?
Bob!
If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha
She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.
“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.
She breathes, “Bob?”
There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.
“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”
He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”
The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”
“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”
Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.
Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.
“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.
Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”
She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”
He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”
The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.
Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.
🏎️
“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.
“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.
Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”
Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”
Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”
“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.
Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”
Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.
“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.
Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”
“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.
Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”
Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”
Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.
“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.
“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.
Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”
He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”
She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.
Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”
Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”
“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.
Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”
Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”
Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”
As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”
Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.
—
Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.
“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.
Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”
Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”
Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”
Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”
“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.
Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.
🏎️
There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.
Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.
“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?
But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.
Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.
A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.
Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.
This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.
Robert Dancing does not exist.
🏎️
Unknown
Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?
Y/n
Everything is fine.
Unknown
Can I call you now?
Y/n
I’m busy.
Unknown
It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?
Unknown
Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?
Y/n
Stop messaging me.
Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.
Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”
She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”
Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.
“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.
Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”
A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”
A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”
“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.
“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.
He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”
She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”
“Y/n, I-”
She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”
A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”
Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.
He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.
What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”
With that, she hangs up the phone.
—
Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.
No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.
“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.
A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”
Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.
“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.
Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.
Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.
—
It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.
The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.
From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.
Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.
She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.
Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”
The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”
Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”
He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.
Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.
Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.
With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.
🏎️
The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.
She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.
He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”
It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.
When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.
“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”
The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.
The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.
The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.
He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”
Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”
He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.
Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”
“Y/n Y/l/n.”
He lifts his head slowly, “What?”
At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”
A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.
He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.
“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.
She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”
Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”
“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.
Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”
She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”
He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”
Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.
At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”
He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”
Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”
He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.
Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”
Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”
🏎️
The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.
Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.
So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.
“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.
A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”
Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.
When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.
Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.
He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.
He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”
He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.
The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.
Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.
“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.
Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.
“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.
“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.
“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.
Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”
What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.
“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.
She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.
“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.
“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”
Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”
He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”
Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”
Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”
Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.
“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.
He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”
Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”
His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”
She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”
Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”
Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”
She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.
🏎️
Y/n
Can you stop blowing up my phone
Bob <3
Why????? I’m bored baby
Y/n
im at work girly
Bob <3
girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me
Y/n
I think you might be obsessed with me
Bob <3
i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?
Y/n
girl
She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.
“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.
She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”
“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.
Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”
Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”
Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”
Lando hums, “An hour?”
“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”
Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”
She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”
He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”
“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.
He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”
She’d never get tired of saying it.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris edit#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfiction#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you
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Your au's for Ghost have me absolutely feral, specially now that I found the viking content. I'm a sucker for big cold man with a sweet angel for a wife 🥺
There's just so much angst potential, imagine the wife was this doe eyes lady that dreamt of love and read all the sweet fairy tales just to end up married to a brute that thing romance is dumb. Then she tries to make their relationship work in a more traditional sense but the attempts fail 🥺🥺🥺
It could be very angsty or a beauty and the beast type of situation where he tries his best for wifey.
beauty and the beast yes please and thank you or alternatively: lady and the tramp
c/w: fluff, mentions of smut, i’m bad at writing romance leave me alone i’m heartless
he’s always known you as his wife. from the second price dropped you in his lap like a stray kitten, mumbles of clan alliances and blah blah blah. you didn’t really have an opinion nor say about the whole situation. but you didn’t seem displeased with the arrangement your father made with price
it never really clicked in his brain that before you were his wife, you were once a little girl with a head full of dreams. hopes of growing up and finding a good man. one who will whisper sweet nothings in your ear at night, building a home and family with you, treat you like the darling thing that you are
and now here you are, the other half of this viscous soldier. a man who has never known a gentle touch in his life. his romantic experiences consist of going to the brothel and picking the first woman he sees to relieve the stress of battle. he never planned on taking a wife nor starting a family
you never complained. not once. even when he shut down your attempts at affection. you took it on the chin and moved on. perhaps you understood that you could definitely have it worse. simon is by no means a good man. but he certainly isn’t a cruel one either
he’s never laid a disrespectful hand on you. never allowed anyone to treat you as anything other than his wife. the same can’t be said for a lot of women put into these kinds of arrangements
he started to figure you out in bed one night. after being intimate together, he was sat up in bed, candlelight illuminating his sweaty chest as he pants to catch his breath. a flask of ale in his hand as he gulps it down
your form is splayed out in his lap, your legs tangled with those thick tree trunks he calls thighs. the covers are bunched up around you, barely concealing your naked bodies to anyone who might decide to intrude
it never makes him jump when he feels your nails dig into his back and claw down the muscle when he fucks you. or when your teeth bite down on his shoulder to cover your moans when he hikes up your skirt in the dark alley behind a tavern. but when your fingers gentle dance over the scars and tattoos littering his sweaty skin, he feels the hairs on the nape of his neck stand up
goosebumps prickle up and down his body when your lips graze over the large scar slashed across his burly chest, tongue flicking out ever so slightly to taste the sweat resting there,
"what're you doin'?" he grunts out, taking another sip of the ale. your eyes flick up to him, almost surprised that he's actually talking to you. you shrug your shoulders lightly, cheeks heating up slightly from his blunt acknowledgement of your affections
“appreciating what was gifted to me by the gods. your body is a blessing, husband…” you whisper so quietly he almost didn’t hear it. but he did
you considered him a gift. a blessing, even. from the gods themselves. simon almost wanted to laugh. another part wanted to tell you to stop, stop with these childish fantasies. but it soon made sense why you never gave up your attempts of coaxing approval from a man so afraid to love
somewhere, deep down inside of you. that little girl is pleading with you, begging you to make her dreams of finding true love come to life. telling you that you’re the only one who can do it. without you, she has no hope
perhaps it can’t hurt to indulge you. just this once.
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#ghost call of duty#simon riley x you#simon riley smut#viking!simon
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Coriolanus x commander's daughter!! I've never seen anyone writing this but that would be so hot and forbidden
Request: Getting manhandled by peacekeeper!Coryo or getting fucked while he's in uniform or both YES PLEASE
Note: Birthdays should be spent doing the things you like...so I finished this one today. Enjoy!!
Warnings: 18+, uniform kink, semi-public fingering + oral (f receiving), forbidden relationship,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
Coriolanus Snow made a lot of stupid choices in his eighteen years of living, but having an affair with his commander’s daughter took the cake. The clandestine romance was risky and could, at extreme extent, get him executed for inappropriate conduct, but the fire that surged through your whole body every time you were together was addicting.
The first time you saw him, you were searching around for your father, having a message to deliver to him in person from the head commander. You kept your head high and stayed on your guard as you walked through the heap of peacekeepers in training, not wanting to look like a lost puppy among them.
You could usually find your way around the base, but today was scorching hot, so you decided to look for someone who would be kind enough to help you get to him.
A row of younger soldiers caught your eye. They were doing push-ups in their singlets, beads of sweat dripping down the side of their faces. As you were trying to pick which shaved head you were going to ask help from, one of them stood out near the end of the line.
Walking up to him, you couldn't help but silently admire the way his arms would flex as he continued the push-ups. Damn. Your stomach clenched at the sight.
‘’Excuse me?’’ You cleared your throat and he looked up, surprising you with the prettiest pair of blue eyes. ‘’Could you help me find Commander Hoff? I have something to deliver to him from the head Commander.’’
The blond cocked an eyebrow, uncertain if he should be helping you. It was his first time seeing you on the base. ‘’And you are to him..?” he prompted, staring you down as his mind embarked a sinful roller-coaster of thoughts.
‘’His daughter.’’
Although well aware of the dangers, Coriolanus couldn’t stop seeing you. And neither could you. You were addicted to his mouth and the way he could lift you up with ease and fuck you while standing, how his toned chest felt under your palms and attractive he looked in his blue uniform.
After you bid your parents goodnight, you changed out of your day clothes and ventured to where you knew all peacekeepers spent their nights at. You didn’t know for sure that Coriolanus was at the Hob, but the barracks were all empty and he didn't have many friends in District 12 besides Sejanus, so it seemed likely he would be there.
It didn’t take long for him to notice you in the bar, your dress brighter in color and certainly shorter than the locals. Your eyes met across the room for a brief moment, then you disappeared through the backrooms, confident that Coriolanus would follow suit.
You could hear his boots on the floors, slowly catching up to you. Your heart quickened its pace behind your chest, excitement building.
It wasn’t until you made it outside that he called you out. ‘’What are you doing here, Miss. Hoff?’’ he asked, his voice echoing in the dark alley.
Your feet came to a stop.
Coriolanus stepped forward, slowly closing the distance between you. ‘’The Commander wouldn’t want his darling daughter in a place like this.’’ Your back was now pressed against his front, an agreeable warmth in contrast to the night air. Coriolanus’s mouth moved to your ear. ‘’A place full of men who would like nothing more than dipping it in your tight cunt.’’
His words should have disgusted you, but they were speaking the truth. These men inside were drinking more than they should and no one was really stepping up for the women they were harassing. With the skirt of your dress hitting above your knee, some could associate it as provocative or inviting.
You turned to face him, biting your bottom lip when you noticed his uniform button up partially undone, revealing a glimpse of his white undershirt.
‘’I shall accompany you back to the base.’’ Coriolanus grabbed you by the arm, but you protested.
He was much stronger than you, so he easily grabbed both of your wrists with a hard squeeze and pinned you against the closest brick wall. You gasped, then quickly realized what game he was playing and you’d be damned if you didn’t play along.
‘’Are you going to arrest me, Mr. Peacekeeper?’’
Coriolanus’s grip on your wrists tightened, a stern command following. ‘’No talking.’’
You could feel your own wetness starting to pool between your legs, aroused by the unfolding situation. The game. The play of power.
His other hand moved from your waist to your hip, slipping underneath the fabric of your dress. He went over the curve of your ass before venturing between your legs to rub you over your panties, but he was met with a surprise. Coriolanus cocked an eyebrow. ‘’No panties tonight?’’
‘’I was hoping to run into you.’’
‘’Naughty girl.’’ His fingers started moving over your folds, coaxing a needy moan from you.
Your jaw dropped as he pushed two long fingers in, making you clench around them. Coriolanus did a scissor motion, then curled them inside, eliciting another moan. ‘’Fuck me.’’
Coriolanus shook his head. ‘’Sorry, darling. I don’t take any commands from civils.’’
‘’Please.’’
You could feel his smug smile behind your neck as the words left your tongue. ‘’What would your daddy say if he knew what his little girl was begging me to do to her?’’ Coriolanus pushed his fingers deeper, making you mewl, so needy for him.
He withdrew his fingers, letting you assume he was going to unbuckle his pants and finally take you, but Coriolanus turned you around and sank to his knees in front of you. The dirt on the ground will dirty his uniform, but he didn’t seem to care. Coriolanus looked up at you, then hooked your leg over his shoulder, leaning forward to kiss the inside of your knee.
You slipped a groan of approval when his mouth got closer to where you wanted him. Then, his tongue ran between your folds, circling your clit slowly. A loud, desperate moan echoed around the dark alley. Coriolanus pinched your thigh, a silent reminder to be quiet. He loved when you were loud, but the Hob was full of peacekeepers. If anyone were to see you together, Coriolanus would be in trouble.
His huge hands sank into your ass, squeezing at the same time he sucked your clit into his mouth. You reached to grab onto something, to keep you from being so loud, but found nothing other than Coriolanus’s buzzed head.
‘’Coryo…’’ you whimpered.
In the matter of minutes, he had turned you into a whimpering mess. Back arching away from the wall, eyes rolling to the back of your head.
One of his hands moved from my ass, and when you looked down, a pair of blue eyes was staring back at you. They stay burning into you, watching you closely as two of his fingers slide into you, finding that one perfect spot in less time than you need to say his name.
His pace increased as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue. If the wall wasn’t holding you up, you would have toppled over by now. The feeling kept building, the heel of your shoe digging into the hard muscles of his back as you desperately tried to move your hips to ride his fingers.
You were wound so impossibly tight you couldn’t breathe. ‘’Coryo, I’m going to cu—’’
You didn’t even get the words out as every part of you spasmed, everything tingling and throbbing as you tightened around him. Below you, Coriolanus moaned, the taste of you welcomed on his tongue.
When he removed his fingers and mouth, he leaned back so he could look up at you properly. He grinned like a devil, his lips glistening with your juices as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.
—
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA @katherinejess @cookielovesbooks-akie
Hunger games / BOASAS taglist: @crossyourmindrights @ziggyneedsabreak @folkloreshorts @runningfrom2am @soulessien @itzfckingreal @creedsofapollo @heart-helmet @javden @definitelykyles @pumkinnroses @pepperonipastas @arzua10 @upwritingallnight @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @caitlin222 @mingukkieposts @lucygreene @mimirocha @sunnysunny133696 @10ava01 @aesthetixhoe @moonquarrel @mus_tbe_a_weasley @under-seasoned-pasta @nowitsmissing
#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#the hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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Propaganda
James Stewart (It's a Wonderful Life, The Philadelphia Story, Mr. Smith Goes to Washington)—the thing about Jimmy Stewart is that for a weird-enough looking guy, he is yet somehow SO hot and SO believable, ALWAYS. He always plays the same person—he's always, well, Jimmy Stewart—yet that person can be a murderer, a dark cynic, a naive idealist, the boy next door or an old man who knows better, and every one of those is hot. I would jump his bones in a heartbeat
Toshiro Mifune (Rashumon, Seven Samurai, Grand Prix, Stray Dog)—i love and respect my boi tab hunter (rest in peace you beautiful, beautiful man ❤️), but after i watched like 12 of his movies in a row on tcm last year, i ALSO love and respect toshiro mifune, son of a literal actual hatamoto’s (a high-ranking samurai) daughter, also very possibly related to the best judokan EVER, AND, he’s the guy who SHOULD have been obi-wan kenobi. the fact that he’s ALSO hot as hell just adds to his appeal.
This is round 4 of the bracket. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage man.
[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]
James Stewart propaganda:
"Ough I saw him first in It's A Wonderful Life, where he is very charming as a suicidal family man being absolutely crushed by capitalism. But then. The Philadelphia Story, in my opinion, should get the same kind of press The Mummy does for being a bisexual dream. Now I'm not really bi (not into women) and it's honestly up for debate whether i'm attracted to men or not, but COME ON!! The movie stars James Stewart as well as Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn (and Ruth Hussey). Stewart plays a common working man, a journalist, to contrast with Grant's character, who is mega-rich. He is scrappy and hates rich people. Hot! They have a whole scene together where he's super drunk and being really physical with his acting, which I love because he is kinda wet noodle shaped. Hot! He carries Hepburn in his arms while singing Somewhere Over The Rainbow. Hot! He gets punched in the face by Cary Grant. Hot!!! In The Man Who Shot Liberty Valence, we get to see him portray an alternative type of masculinity, opposite John Wayne doing John Wayne. He is even more wet noodle-y, to put emphasis on his incompatibility with the rugged masculinity of the cow-boy, he wears an apron for a lot of the film, again, to blur his masculinity, and he gets shot. Hot! Also he's older here, if that's your thing. Long story short: He's giving librarian chic and The Philadelphia Story made me want to be poly."
youtube
“Here he is next to Grant, in what I believe to be a promotional shot for The Philadelphia Story. Please don’t get distracted by Grant (or do, i’m submitting him next).”
“He’s a nice guy and a good guy and deserves all the happiness and joy ever! Classic boy next door/class president kid that everyone loves for real. Stand-up for the Little Guy vibes. With a charming fun side!!”
Toshiro Mifune propaganda:
"In addition, he spoke fluent mandarin and every time he was casted in foreign films, he said his lines in the language of the movie (although they ended up dubbing him. He wasn’t happy about it though).”
Submitted: this gifset
Also submitted: this video (yes, that one)
"Crucial Toshiro Mifune propaganda: THOSE LEGS."
"That is hella muscle. Go watch The Hidden Fortress, aka Star Wars A New Hope. His thighs deserve an award."
#toshiro mifune#james stewart#jimmy stewart#hotvintagepoll#round 4#fuck ! that ! old ! man ! ! !#Youtube
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I Want You to Stay (05) | 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; eventual explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 14.8k
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: I deeply appreciate all the love and messages (and anticipation for uh, stuff) but again, it's a slow burn! Thank you so much! 🥰
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Jungkook sits cross-legged on the couch in his office, his iPad in hand as he goes through the Board report for the nth time these past five days.
Manager Lee and Chin-sun have put together the logistics, construction, and design departments’ reports with the VP’s and Jungkook is supposed to sign these off for submission to the CEO today, who then approves it for submission to the Board members. They have until Friday to review it in time for the meeting happening that same day.
This consolidated report was finalized last Wednesday and Jungkook has been reviewing it everyday since then, including his presentation, making minimal comments and then taking notes on things he’s unfamiliar with. Granted, he’s reporting about the quarter when he’s only been Vice President for a month, which makes you incredibly instrumental in his preparations. As the executive assistant, you have the information that Jungkook needs from Hoseok’s time, and so you’ve also been spending everyday since Wednesday answering all of Jungkook’s questions.
You don’t mind, really, as they’re details you know by heart. It also allows you to show him how involved and meticulous you were under Hoseok’s leadership, and Jungkook’s hums and mumbles of appreciation have helped you gain back the confidence that you lost.
Even if your self-esteem decreased this past month because of the very person sitting in front of you, the fact that Jungkook’s been showing - in his own ways - his trust in you is enough to lift your spirits. He did admit last week that he needs you - something you hadn’t expected him to say - and you could tell it took so much from him to be able to verbalize it. But you suppose you needed that honesty, too; you needed to know that after all that frustration and anger during the first few weeks, there was that realization on his end that you have his back, and you’re just as capable as what everyone has been saying you are.
“What information do you need from me, Mr. Jeon?” You finally ask.
It’s been a good five minutes since Jungkook had asked for you and you’ve just been standing in front of him while he scrolls through the screen, perhaps giving another final look before he finally sends the document to his father.
“Nothing,” he sighs, rolling his head back and closing his eyes. “I just… I just need someone to tell me to stop reviewing this report. I need this out of my sight but I can’t stop checking to make sure everything is okay.”
You look at him intently while he speaks. The tension in his entire face and body is visible, you can even feel it in the room. You feel for him, as he tries to hide the anxiety and desperation. You can tell that he just wants to do well so badly. With the amount of time he’s been spending just going through this, his perfectionist tendency surfaces, and you’re at least thankful that it hasn’t turned him back into an asshole. At least not yet.
“You need to stop reviewing the report, Mr. Jeon, and let it go,” you say as instructed but with sincerity in your words. “You’ve been on this for days. Manager Lee and Chin-sun have reviewed it, and so have I. CEO Jeon could still suggest changes and we won’t know them until he’s reviewed it, but we at least have the details ironed out. If I may suggest, you can send the file to him in the next hour so you can now focus on practicing for your presentation. That may be a better use of your time.”
Jungkook opens his eyes and turns to you. There’s assurance in your words and your voice and like what he told himself he’d do, he’ll trust you and the team. He’s seen how hard everyone has been working for this - Manager Lee and Chin-sun have done so well in consolidating and cross-checking everything; Do-hyun’s presentation is simple yet effective, and Yohan, who’s back from the hospital, has been adding in all the needed details. And there’s you, making sure that everything and everyone is on track, even as you prepare for Jungkook’s upcoming events.
“Okay, then,” he exhales deeply. “I’ll send it in the next half hour.”
Knowing he has a meeting set at 2PM, you ask him if you should order him lunch.
“Yes please,” he answers, saying he wants some braised beef from the restaurant on the next block. “Order for yourself as well, and the rest of the team. You can all get anything you want.”
The silence prompts Jungkook to look at you, and he’s met with a questioning gaze.
“Is there a problem?” He asks.
“N—no,” you answer. “I’d like to confirm again that I’ll be ordering lunch for you and all five of us.”
“Yes, Ms. Cho. That’s what I said.”
You remain unmoving as you wait for him to correct himself. This is the first time that Jungkook has offered to treat the team to a meal. Not that you’ve been waiting for it, but Hoseok took you all out to dinner on his first day as a welcome and a thanks in advance, and once you picked up that Jungkook wasn’t the type to engage with his staff much, you just didn’t expect anything. So takeaway lunch from a nice restaurant is definitely surprising.
“Okay, sir,” you say. “I will do that. I’m sure the team will appreciate it.”
Jungkook merely hums, his eyes focused on the screen now as you bow and head out.
You go meet the team and as you expected, everyone looks at you in shock.
“Did the real Mr. Jeon get abducted?” Do-hyun asks. “Because treating us is something he wouldn’t do.”
“Yah! It may be a month late but let’s just be thankful, okay?” You frown at her. “He can see that everyone’s been working hard and I’m sure he appreciates that, and he may not be able to say it but he can at least show us.”
“While he’s at it, he can maybe at least say thank you or you know, smile every once in a while,” Chin-sun sighs.
“We’ll get there. He knows he needs to do better and he will, I’ll make sure of that,” you assure them, thinking about the conversation from last week.
Jungkook wants you to help him and for his sake and everyone else’s, you’ll make sure that you do.
“Well, is he better to you?” Do-hyun asks, her face in a pout because she’s seen you skip meals several times and even cry, and she’d wanted so many times to just hug you, but she knows it’s not something you openly receive.
“Yes,” you say, knowing it will drive your point. “I’d like to think that the worst is over and I can just focus on doing better and helping him. It would be great if the rest of us could do the same.”
“She’s right,” Manager Lee chimes in. “We grow when we adapt, and much more when we’re able to move on and learn from our experiences. It hasn’t been the best month but it’s also just been a month. So let’s be grateful for the meal and just continue with the good work we’ve been doing, okay?”
You give them the warmest smile you can muster, hoping this would be enough.
It seems to be, as they all excitedly give their orders, which you and Yohan pick up from the restaurant. You return and after giving Jungkook his food, you head to the other room to eat as well.
The team enjoys the meal, with Do-hyun dramatically stating that it’s the best beef brisket she’s ever had. And you agree; there’s a reason why Jungkook gets this every week.
Jungkook can hear laughter and satisfied hums from the support team office, with Do-hyun, he supposes, claiming that it feels like Christmas. Yohan says it’s a much-needed post-recovery treat, and even Manager Lee - who’s often serious - cracks a few jokes. Jungkook can pick out your sound, too, noting the joy that emanates from it. He allows himself a small smile, knowing that given how he’s been to everyone this past month, he at least could give his team this highlight of their day.
He stands by the door, initially going unnoticed, until Chin-sun catches sight of him and alerts everyone that he’s there. The room goes silent, and Jungkook looks on as his staff quietly munch their food and bow to him in greeting. The teasing and laughter have gone; worried eyes are what he sees instead.
Your initial surprise at seeing him melts away. He rarely drops by for anything, even for a greeting or to just check up on the team, unlike Hoseok who liked to come here often to de-stress after long meetings. But you sense Jungkook’s awkwardness at the silence, with his hands in his pockets and his blank gaze, so you smile at him and hope that eases the tension a bit.
“Lunch was great, Mr. Jeon,” you say. “Thank you.”
“It was,” Manager Lee pipes in. “The roast pork was so delicious. The potato salad was very good, too.”
You look at the others and encourage them to say something as well, and they hum in agreement and say their thanks.
“The beef brisket was heavenly,” Do-hyun raves. “Thank you! I hope it’s not the last time.”
She awkwardly chuckles, realizing that her boss isn’t one she should be joking with, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to take offense, as he purses his lips - perhaps to hide a smile, revealing a tiny dimple that catches you off guard.
“It won’t be. And uh, it was a month late, so I’m glad you all enjoyed it,” he replies, a tinge of disappointment now painting his face.
There’s another moment of silence and you observe him, hands still in his pockets, looking around awkwardly, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
“It’s greatly appreciated, sir,” you assure him once more. “We hope you had a good lunch as well.”
“I’m just about to have it, actually,” he says. “I sent the report to the CEO and he must’ve been waiting for it because he read it right away and called to give feedback.”
“Oh? How did CEO Jeon find it?” Manager Lee asks.
“He said it was good. There are just minor things he asked me to change but I can do them on my own,” Jungkook answers. “I appreciate everyone’s hard work. Now, we can focus on our upcoming events and the Arts Center.”
The team immediately starts packing and swallowing their food, and Jungkook has to stop them.
“Not right now,” he clarifies. “Continue with your meal. And don’t stay too late. We’ve got another busy week ahead.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” everyone says in unison.
Jungkook nods and starts walking away, leaving all five of you with confused looks, as Jungkook has never spoken to the team in such a calm and friendly manner. It was always firm and professional, low and stoic.
You scurry out the room and follow him. Jungkook gives you a questioning look when you enter his office shortly after he does, and you pick up his untouched lunch from the table and inform him that you’ll heat it up, knowing he doesn’t like to eat his food cold.
You go back to the pantry then return to Jungkook’s room, his beef brisket dish now properly placed in a bowl. He gives you a nod, his form of acknowledgment and thanks, you suppose, and you ask the question you’ve had since his earlier stop at the team’s office.
“Are the edits really just minor?” You wonder, knowing that CEO Jeon is meticulous and quite particular with these board reports.
Jungkook takes a moment to respond. He should know that you’ve done this a few times and are probably used to how his father is already, which means you’d see right through him as well.
“Well, they’re not major,” Jungkook says. “I mean, they’re not trivial corrections. The details are all good but I need to change some terminologies and framing and some construction of the sections based on the Board’s current concerns, especially about the Arts Center. They’re not that substantial but it’ll still take me an hour or so.”
“Why did you tell the team that they were minor, then?”
“So they won’t offer to help.”
“But they would. I would,” you tell him. “It’s our job.”
“I was going to ask, but it’s your break time. Everyone was enjoying their meals and each other. First time I’ve seen that, actually. I know it doesn’t happen when I’m around.”
“It’s just that you’re not—”
“Hoseok,” he finishes for you.
“Not someone they’re comfortable being themselves around,” you correct him.
“Yes, not like Hoseok,” he pushes.
“You said it the first day, Mr. Jeon. You do things very differently from your cousin. Your personalities are very different, too. We had him for three years and for Yohan and Do-hyun, he was their first boss,” you explain. “They’re just not used to you yet.”
“What about you? Are you used to me by now?”
There’s sudden tension in the room as he looks at you with the desire for honesty, and it’s what you give.
“I’m not quite sure.”
Jungkook doesn’t really know what he expected, as the question just slipped past his mouth before he could pull it back, so he just nods and proceeds to take his late lunch, wanting to forget that he’d asked at all.
You take this as a signal to head out, which you do, before reminding him that he can ask you for help if he needs another pair of eyes before he submits his part again. Jungkook just nods once more, and it’s later in the day, after the third cup of coffee that you take to his room, that he says his father’s already approved the version he sent after you went through it upon his request. You know that’s just half of what he needs to do though, as he’ll still need to present it to the Board this coming Friday.
“You may go home, Ms. Cho,” he says after he signs some documents for you.
“How about you, Mr. Jeon?” You ask.
It’s been a long day, an extension of an even longer weekend because he’d been at a work event and then reviewed the report as well.
“I’ll probably stay back and go over the presentation. Maybe practice a little.”
You purse your lips, holding something back.
“Should I not?” He wonders.
“Just thinking that it might be better for you to take a proper rest tonight,” you advise.
“I’ll think about it. It’s gonna be a tough one on Friday and I want to be prepared.”
“I understand,” you smile. “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Jeon.”
Jungkook holds your gaze for a while before he nods and returns to his screen, going through the presentation slides and the notes he scribbled on his iPad. But try as he might, the graphs and the words just go over his head.
He does need to rest, he thinks. He hasn’t really taken a break all weekend. His hookup from last night was the only relief he got, but that was to expend all the negative energy from the anxiety and stress, and he realizes that he probably doesn’t know what proper rest is, like what you suggested he have. He wonders if you’ve ever had one, or if it’s something you stopped having ever since you started working for him.
Taking your advice, he heads out. It’s only been 30 minutes and he assumes you’re already on the bus and on the way home. He sits in the passenger seat, letting Mr. Ri’s choice of music fill the car as Jungkook’s mind wanders to you - how you laughed at the team’s antics, how you got them to assure him, how you read him well, how you were patient and helpful, and how you seemed concerned about how tired he’s been.
He’ll chalk it up to you doing your job and helping him as he asked you to do; he always will. He can’t ever think that any of your actions mean more even if deep down, he wishes they do, only so he knows that you don’t hate him, that you’ve forgiven him for things he never apologized for, that you’ll stay for as long as possible. There’s something about your honesty and calm presence that stabilizes him, that makes him take a pause.
Jungkook’s worked hard on his career for the past decade and it’s all he focuses on; it’s all he thinks about. But when you’re there, he’s forced to stop and think about you. He’s noticed that just this past week - when you’re around, he listens; when you’re close to him, he breathes. Ironic, really, considering that every time you close the distance - when you fix his tie or look at his screen over his shoulder or help him retrieve portfolios - he remains still, his heart stopping and his throat drying up, afraid to take in your scent or to know just how fast his pulse would race or what words he’d say that he won’t be able to contain.
He’s afraid to know you, only because what he’ll learn might make him want you. And Jungkook knows that he can’t let himself feel that about you in any way.
He sighs as he looks out the window - cars in line to cross the intersection, people walking to their destination. He thinks he’s hallucinating as he sees your smile, but a bus blocks his view and Mr. Ri steps on the gas.
Outside, you smile to yourself as you wait in line. You were held up at the lobby because Bitna caught you in the elevator and didn’t want to let you go just yet, so you left the office just minutes ago and were waiting at the bus stop when a familiar car showed up and you saw Jungkook looking out the window. He opted to leave early, too; you can only hope he’ll take your advice and rest tonight.
But the thought that what you said prompted him to take a pause from work stirs something within. Maybe it’s because he’s finally listening to you, or that it seems like he trusts you now. Whatever it is, for as long as it makes your job bearable, you’re all for it.
It doesn’t take away from the moments you’ve shared where it seems like the world stops for a bit as you hold each other’s gazes for the shortest of seconds. There’s tension where there shouldn’t be, and there’s something different in his eyes when there used to be disdain, one which you can’t read nor identify. It leaves you still for the briefest of moments, unguarded and a little bare, as he seems to tell you something with just a look and you just don’t know what it is.
As you find a rare seat in the bus, you let the musings go. Jungkook is a man who holds in him a million thoughts a day and those moments with you seem to be his only reprieve; perhaps they’re also just instances of temporary lags or the rare silence and stoppage of everything. In some odd way, it allows you to see him as the human that he is - exhausted, unsure at times, but seemingly yearning for something.
There’s always an emotion or a thought or a word that he holds in, and you can only wish - as your relationship with him improves - that whatever it is he’s holding back, he’ll find a way to express it.
“Do you have any advice for the Board meeting?”
Jungkook slides the question in before Hoseok heads to the elevator and off to an event. They’ve just finished having a check-in with CEO Jeon, who wanted to make sure that the two of them are well-prepared for this Friday, given that presenting during these meetings and contributing to policy and strategy are crucial in their roles as President and Vice President. Jungkook won’t admit that it caused him a bit of anxiety, but he’ll surely take the chance to ask his cousin for tips on how to make sure that he doesn’t screw up.
“I do,” Hoseok answers as he holds off on pressing the button. “Ask your assistant. And then listen to what she says.”
Jungkook visibly sighs. “Hoseok, I mean it.”
“I mean it, too,” the older man replies. “If it’s anything about our strategic plan or policies, just take my lead. And it’s your very first so you’re expected to still be adjusting. If it’s about the presentation, let ___ brief you about it. She’s been with me every single time I had to present. When I was focused on what I had to say, she was focused on how the Board was reacting and how those translated to the questions they eventually asked. She’d know what you’ll need to emphasize on or who you need to be wary of.”
There’s an unsure look in Jungkook’s eyes, and Hoseok knows it isn’t about trusting you. It’s about him.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Hoseok asks. “What are you afraid of, Kook?”
“You know what they think of me,” Jungkook sighs. “I don’t want to screw up and give them more reasons to doubt me because they already do. And they’re definitely gonna ask about the Arts Center. What if they bring up my disappointing social skills? I don’t wanna end up feeling inadequate and embarrassing father.”
“Keep thinking that way and you will,” Hoseok huffs. “Look. Our family owns the company. You and I were trained to run it after my sister and your brother decided they didn’t want to. The Board knows this. They’ll either stay in our good graces or plot against us. Your father knows that, too, and that’s why he’s being hard on both of us because he knows what we’ll have to face. That also just means he’ll always be on your side. He’ll always be on ours. The Board could be intimidating but we still hold the power. They’ll impose or question or cast doubt because they want to feel that sense of control. It’ll only affect you if you let them.”
“Okay” is all that Jungkook manages to say, a tinge of resignation on his face as he takes in his cousin’s words.
“You’ve managed worse people than them,” Hoseok assured him. “Just focus, stand by your project, and engage them. Simple as that.”
“Yes, it’s very simple,” Jungkook chuckles with a shake of his head.
“Like I said, your assistant’s there for a reason, Kook. This is when I get to tell you that it’s her job. We would prepare together and debrief right after, and it always helped because she fills in gaps and informs me of things I missed. Trust me. Trust her.”
The thing is, Jungkook does; he doesn’t need to be reminded that he should trust you because he’s learned to do that, despite it seemingly impossible given that you both started off on the wrong foot. It’s the thought of spending more time with you, during a time when he’s still trying to get used to you and how you affect him, that makes him worried about this. But it’s not something he can talk about with Hoseok. It’s not something he can talk about with anyone.
“Fine,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. I’ll go now. Have dinner at home tomorrow, okay? And I’ll see you when I get back.”
Jungkook waves the older man goodbye and then returns to his office, where he finds you dropping some files off for signing.
“Payment requests for the event,” you explain, earning you a nod from him as he walks to his seat. “How did the meeting with your father go, Mr. Jeon?”
“As I expected,” he huffs. “A bit of encouragement, more of the pressure. He’d slide in reminders of what the Board thinks of me and how I should present myself.”
“Is the pressure helping?” You ask.
“A little,” he sighs, sinking into his chair and exhaling deeply. He rolls his head back and closes his eyes, allowing himself a few seconds of peace. “But I still need help. Hoseok said I can get it from you.”
“You know, he oversells me sometimes,” you manage to laugh, prompting Jungkook to look at you now. “I know I’m competent. But I don’t know about being your source of help for a Board meeting any more than providing you with data.” Jungkook likes to do things on his own after all, you think to yourself.
“But you’ve been to as many Board meetings as he has.”
“Yes, but only for his presentation.”
“And that’s what I need help with,” he says. “I just need direction, I guess. Or affirmation that how I’m doing it is the right way. Or tips on who to woo or who to not take seriously.”
Jungkook has been to a few Board meetings but he’s never had to present anything. He’s also never had to engage with the members so he didn’t pay much attention to them because he didn’t feel the need to. These appointments were all a few years too early, and while he’d had a critical position in the Southeast Asian headquarters, everything had gone through his uncle who headed the office then.
This is the first time that Jungkook feels the magnitude of all his decisions, and that every move he makes is being assessed. And even with his father and Hoseok giving him guidance, they have their own teams to manage and an entire company to run, just like him. Somehow, with all the people around him, Jungkook still feels alone.
You, with your perpetual presence and surprising warmth, are the only one who makes him feel otherwise. And it terrifies him more than anything.
“Well, I’ve picked up a few things along the way,” you hum. “I can maybe go through my notes and share them with you.”
“Good. I’d like to do that over lunch, since I’ll have you and Manager Lee watch me practice the presentation around 2.”
Jungkook picks up the slight fall of your face. “Is that a problem?” He asks. “Did you have lunch plans?”
“Nothing more important than assisting you, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a change of expression indicating that you indeed had prior commitments that you’re putting off because of him. “I’ll inform Manager Lee about meeting with him after.”
You head out and return to your desk to work on your remaining tasks for the morning until lunch time rolls by and you accompany Jungkook to a nearby restaurant as he’d asked. You try not to get too excited about the meal in front of you and then control yourself from letting out orgasmic sounds from the succulent piece of salmon that’s melting in your mouth. This check-in seems too important for Jungkook and you want to support him in any way you can.
“How was Hoseok during his first Board meeting?” Jungkook starts.
“Nervous, a little rattled. His sister left him behind with a lot of work and she was abroad for most of the time so they weren’t able to meet up,” you share. “But he got up there and presented all the office’s gains for the past months and then explained his plans moving forward. He had all these good ideas on policy and strategy and he articulated them well. He had to take over multiple small projects and he showed how he planned to manage all of them. His charms sort of hid away the anxiety he was feeling and I guess that eventually helped him get rid of it.”
“Well, that’s one thing I can’t claim that I have,” Jungkook sighs.
He looks at you to see your reaction, and the awkwardness on your face makes him internally laugh.
“I can lie to you if you want me to,” you say, and he chuckles, surprising you both, though he acts like he doesn’t mind.
“I’d actually want you to be as honest with me as possible, Ms. Cho. I don’t want you, of all people, to suck up to me to get on my good graces.”
“Great, since I wasn’t on it in the first place,” you trail, earning you another laugh, and you wish this could at least lessen the pressure he’s putting himself under.
“That’s true,” he says, holding your gaze. He turns to his food before he gets sucked in your gorgeous eyes even more. “But I mean it. I don’t exactly know how to charm people, much less the Board. I don’t want to add to the narrative they already have of me having terrible social skills. But I also don’t want them to think I’m being fake or pretentious.”
“If I may, you’ll botch that aspect if you keep thinking about it,” you advise. “Perhaps you can just focus on what you’re good at. Delivering a presentation, regardless of what it’s about, is a skill. You have all the information and I can add some more if you’re not confident with them. You also tweaked some existing processes and you can build on it. But also, the Arts Center will definitely be their focus, so talk about it the way you would with your father and the team… and me. You let us envision it with your words and your visuals and those are all you need.”
“Okay then. I’ll just imagine they’re all vegetables or something so I can focus.”
“Mrs. Doi likes making eye contact because she wants to feel like you’re conversing with her,” you say. “Mrs. Seo asks a lot of irrelevant questions but you have to answer as if they’re important. Mr. Ong likes being acknowledged every time he says something or even nods. So I don’t recommend acting as if they’re inanimate. Maybe just with Mr. Wang because he falls asleep in everything, but don’t take it personally. I think it’s a medical condition.”
Jungkook’s amused look encourages you to continue.
“Mr. Mun doesn’t really get design and building terms so you’d have to explain them at least twice. Mr. Bong tends to act all mighty but he doesn’t really know much. Same with Mr. Im and Ms. Hwa. The rest are fine,” you say. “Mr. Saito is very thoughtful. He’s a designer so his insights would be good. Ms. Cheng is unproblematic and overall just supportive. Mr. Yeon is just… there. They’re quite intense when it comes to profits and the company’s image but if you stand by what you know, they won’t really say much.”
“Wow, that’s… that’s a lot to take in. And also very informative,” Jungkook states. “I never noticed any of those.”
“Well, you had your reasons to be in those meetings and maybe you didn’t have a reason to pay attention to them,” you shrug. “I do. I thought it was an added way that I could help Mr. Jung. Assistants are asked to sit on the side of the room so we can be easily signaled for anything and I thought I could use that position to observe the Board members and see how they respond to the presentation. It helped for the succeeding ones and it took the pressure off him in terms of needing to appease them.”
“Makes sense,” Jungkook hums. “Worrying about how they’ll react or what they’ll say is half of the pressure.”
“It is. I couldn’t help Mr. Jung for his first time because it was mine, too, but he picked things up quite easily. He knew who to pay attention to.”
“Well, considering that I don’t seem to be ideal for this relationship-heavy position, I’ll have to pay attention and appease all of them, it seems.”
“If I may, Mr. Jeon, you can take it as a challenge,” you advise, feeling more comfortable in being honest now. “I may be just a humble assistant but I’ve seen things. With all the praises for Mr. Jung - which are deserved, of course - I’ve witnessed his moments of distress, which is perfectly normal for anyone. A-yeong had to remind him of how good he was everyday because he needed that push and it helped him. It also helped that he was trying to prove something and that he was always told that he had all the qualities to do that.”
“Not everyone has a supportive wife like him though. Or like my father,” Jungkook laughs dryly.
“They had supportive assistants,” you offer, trying to be optimistic. “I had to fill-in as Mr. Jung’s sounding board and I was always in awe at his approach to things.”
“Which is very different from mine, I know,” Jungkook says unintentionally, the sigh making you feel like he’s tired of the comparison, and you feel a bit bad at having to seemingly remind him of that.
“And which isn’t bad at all,” you try to assure him. “Just because it’s different, doesn’t mean it’s not right.”
Well, it wasn’t right to treat you the way I did, he wants to say, but the words stay in his head and at the tip of his tongue.
“That’s… comforting,” he says instead.
“I was trying to be assuring but comforting is fine, too,” you chuckle. “But I mean it, sir. I know there are all these expectations and I won’t be able to truly understand what the pressure is like but if you allow it to challenge you, you might even surprise yourself. And then you’ll end up surprising them, too. But do it for you. At the end of the day, they’re just the Board but you’re the Vice President. And you’re you. You’re all you can control.”
There’s a beat of silence as Jungkook takes in everything you’d said. You have this persistence about you that’s reflected in the way you carry yourself and in the way you relate with others, especially towards him despite how he’d treated you not long ago. Regardless of what you said, he thinks you know exactly what he feels when it comes to dealing with pressure. He supposes that working for his family can do that to someone, especially when it’s him.
“Such moving words, Ms. Cho,” he finally says.
“I didn’t mean to give unwanted advice,” you shake your head in disappointment.
“I needed it though,” he surprises you. “Other than Hoseok or even Yoongi, who are both busy themselves, I only have you as a sounding board. And as support. So, uh, thanks.”
He says his gratitude with a soft tone, almost embarrassingly. You can tell it’s something he doesn’t say that often, but you take it, as you think it’s another step towards him trusting you even more. And you need that trust for now; it’s this peaceful and honest dynamic with him that’s making your job bearable.
Lunch continues with Jungkook asking more questions about some of the Board members and you dishing some dirt on some of them as what you’ve heard in the office washrooms, perhaps the only gossip you don’t take with a grain of salt. He’s amused, and you think this is the most expressive you’ve seen him.
You proceed to meet with Manager Lee in the conference room where Jungkook goes through each slide presentation, asking both of you for more information he thinks he needs and about how he’s carrying himself, his tone, his pace, and his engagement. It’s good enough for a first run-through, Manager Lee says, and Jungkook decides to dry-run it again on Thursday.
The rest of your day goes by a little stressfully. There are multiple events that you have to organize and coordinate with other offices, and those are what you work on until you clock out on time.
Jungkook stays behind for only half an hour before deciding he’s had enough of looking through his notes and will return to them tomorrow. He takes the elevator and nods when Yoongi enters.
“Hey,” Jungkook greets. “How are the designs for the Changwon mid-rise?”
“It’s 6:00. I don’t wanna talk about work,” Yoongi whines.
Jungkook knows this. It’s also why he likes to tease his friend about it.
“Fine. We can just stand next to each other awkwardly until we have to get off,” Jungkook says.
“Hmm,” Yoongi hums. “Or, we can talk about how my lunch plans changed because someone asked my lunch partner for a meeting.”
The tension immediately rises and Jungkook hates how affected he is by Yoongi’s teasing.
“Ah, so it was you. Well, she did say it wasn’t as important as what we were meeting about,” Jungkook hits back.
“True. It’s about the Board meeting after all. It’s a pretty big deal.”
Jungkook starts to feel hot all over, as the thought of you and Yoongi conversing about your thwarted lunch plans because of him plays in his head. It’s a mix of frustration and disappointment. While the meeting was in no way confidential, he just hates the idea that it was something you shared with Yoongi. Perhaps it’s just after the fact, considering that Jungkook thinks it was a good lunch. You clearly enjoyed the dish - he could see how you tried to control your reactions to it - and your conversations went by smoothly. You were honest and supportive; he was open and all the more surprised with how well you were able to calm him down. It’s as if someone else was privy to that moment you both shared, even if Yoongi wasn’t there.
“Huh, I thought you were over her,” Jungkook says, the bitterness slicing through. If his friend picks it up, he doesn’t say anything.
“I am. We were just gonna have lunch at this noodle house because she was craving it,” Yoongi clarifies. “I told you, I’m her only friend here. It’s nice to share a meal with someone who cares about you every once in a while, you know? It’s hard being a working adult and we all need a bit of a break and a companion sometimes. It didn’t mean anything more than that.”
Jungkook chooses not to respond and Yoongi could tell why. There’s this look of annoyance painting the younger man’s face, which makes him a lot more transparent than he wishes he was.
But Yoongi can see right through his friend. It’s not something he raises though, but he won’t be surprised if Jungkook dwells on this. He just hopes it isn’t to your detriment again.
The ride home wasn’t as terrible last night, and after your elder neighbor gave you some stew because she cooked too much, you had a satisfying dinner and an even more satisfying slumber.
You feel like the end of the week isn’t too far ahead - although there really isn’t anything exciting for you except for a date with your bed - and you just want to get through all your tasks for the day and get that jjajangmyeon that Yoongi said he’ll get for you today so you can eat it for dinner. You were initially upset at having to pass up on him for yesterday’s lunch, but you’d be the first to admit that sharing that meal with Jungkook was still worthwhile.
Not only was the dish you ordered one of the best things you’ve ever eaten, it was also nice to see Jungkook loosen up a bit after feeling tense all morning because of his presentation. You liked that he���s being open to getting support from you, as it seems that he sees you now as more than just the assistant who’s there to serve him. He seems to appreciate your thoughts and didn’t even act bitterly when you gave him unsolicited advice. You feel even more that your relationship improves daily.
That is, until you enter his penthouse this Wednesday morning with barely a look of acknowledgement from him. Going through your routine, he doesn’t say much; he stays silent the entire ride to the office as well.
When you enter his room to serve his coffee, his furrowed brows have returned and his jaws are clenched as he types away on his desktop.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, his voice stern once again.
You turn around to face him, wondering what has happened since you left the office yesterday.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“I just wanted to raise that while I understand you have personal relationships with other employees, I do not appreciate you divulging the topics of our meetings with them. Even if they’re my friend as well.”
His last sentence gives away who he’s talking about, and the conversation with Yoongi after you canceled your lunch plans with him rings in your head.
It was a harmless statement, you want to say; you didn’t share any more than it being a meeting about his presentation. There was no ill-intent in you telling Yoongi why you couldn’t see him for lunch. But you choose to pass up on reasoning with Jungkook. He builds his wall up even more when you do, and you don’t want things to be that way again, not when they seemed to be going okay already these past few days.
So you nod and concede. “I understand, Mr. Jeon, and I apologize. I won’t do it again.”
Jungkook can’t help but just look at you, internally smacking himself as your face falls further and as you, once again, feel far away because of his own stupidity.
“Is there anything else you need, sir?”
He shakes his head no, and you bow in response, heading out, with the sadness in your eyes as the last thing he sees.
Jungkook is unable to focus on his emails and the conference call he takes part in. The words and thoughts are all jumbled when he practices his presentation, as his gaze constantly flits to your spot just outside where you sit, doing your tasks while looking detached and dejected.
He assumes you didn’t come to work expecting to be called out the way he did with you, which in hindsight, didn’t seem necessary, especially knowing how it’s affecting you right now. Things were going well between both of you after all - he’s being more open and you’re being more comfortable. Information was flowing smoothly, and communication has improved. And he just went ahead and screwed all that up.
Jungkook starts to feel stuffy. He’s been in his office working on things for the Arts Center and practicing most of the day, with you only coming in to bring the lunch he’d asked Mr. Ri to buy and his cups of coffee. You’ve avoided his gaze and haven't said much to him, too.
He decides to take a walk outside. The outdoor space on this floor has nice benches and a small garden that overlooks the Han River. He’s seen the team eat there sometimes, and while the weather may be a little too hot for it, he’d much rather breathe in the air than his humidifier.
But as he takes his time to open the door, he hears a familiar voice from outside.
“Fine, if you won’t take the sandwich, at least take the noodles,” Yoongi says. “You’ve been craving that all weekend.”
“Not anymore,” you huff, seemingly annoyed.
“Hey, did I do something wrong?” Yoongi asks, calm and understanding in tone, traits that Jungkook could only hope to have.
“No… I don’t know,” you sigh. “Just that, whatever I talk to you about or mention, other people don’t need to know them, okay? No matter how harmless they are. Let’s just… not talk about work stuff. Especially in the office. That’s it.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about.”
“What do you—”
“Mr. Min,” Jungkook calls out, fully opening the door now. “I have design guidelines I need you to go over. I need them by tomorrow morning.”
“Okay, Jungkook,” Yoongi bitterly replies, knowing what’s happened. “Just send them over to me.”
“Ms. Cho will do that right now.”
You nod in acknowledgement of Jungkook’s instruction and remain focused on your desktop. There’s silence in the air and tension that you can’t deal with right now.
“Can I help you with anything else, Mr. Min?”
“Nah. If I do, I’ll check with your boss first if I can ask you for it. Don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”
You finally look up at him, a tinge of annoyance painting his face, a rarity since Yoongi doesn’t seem to ever be irate about anything.
“And I’ll just take this jjajangmyeon if you don’t want it,” he adds, taking the container that’s on the ledge of your desk with him, before walking out of your area.
You can’t help the pout that forms on your lips. You really love that noodle house’s version and you’ve been craving it for days. It’s where you and Yoongi were both supposed to have lunch yesterday but Jungkook spoiled it, and it wouldn’t have mattered as much, until it became a reason for him to be upset with you again. You’re not exactly sure why, but much as you want to question your boss this time, you don’t have the energy for it. It doesn’t seem worth it, but it also doesn’t change the fact that Yoongi might have said something to Jungkook, and that’s a dynamic you’re still unsure how to read or deal with.
Your gaze shifts to the man himself, who looks less annoyed than he did at the start of the day. You don’t know how his practice has been going, since he hasn’t asked you to run it with him, but you suppose he’s doing alright. He’s been in his room all day doing that and taking calls in between.
Jungkook looks away and heads out. He lets the summer air clear his mind a little before he goes back inside. It’s 6PM by the time he emerges from his room, surprised at seeing your face still buried in piles of papers.
“Ms. Cho, I’ll be heading to Hoseok’s for dinner,” he says, getting your attention. “Anything that needs my signature or approval can wait tomorrow.”
He hopes you’ll read through his words, as he wishes you’d take a rest yourself, like you advise him to do.
“Finance needs your expense reports first thing tomorrow morning, Mr. Jeon,” you say, a little too stoic than he’s used to. “These can be signed tomorrow when you arrive.”
Jungkook just nods, knowing there’s not much he can do if you don’t want to go home yet. But he does leave you with a reminder.
“Ms. Cho,” he says before leaving. He’s met with curious eyes that he tries not to fall into. “Make sure to eat a proper dinner.”
He walks out too quickly, not wanting to see your reaction.
You’re too tired to react, but that just pushes you to finish all your work and head to the pantry for some biscuits. It’s then that you see the paper bag with a note on it.
For ___. Do not touch!
At the back, Yoongi writes, I’m sorry. Here’s a man who knows how to apologize, you think to yourself.
The bowl of jjajangmyeon is inside, as well as a container of gimari. The scent reminds you of how hungry you are, so you heat up the noodles and inhale your dinner as you stand by the table. The empty office and the faint sounds of the air conditioning make you think of how alone you really are - working past your hours on a Wednesday evening, a takeaway meal from a friend you’re pushing away, and a stressful trip back to your empty studio apartment.
You rarely ever feel lonely. You don’t equate being alone with that specific emotion or state. There’s certainty and clarity you get from being on your own. But on certain days, you let yourself crack a little and be vulnerable. On certain days, you let yourself admit that being alone makes you feel lonely, and that at this precise moment, it’s exactly what you feel.
You send Yoongi a message of thanks but don’t extend the conversation after he replies. You know it isn’t his fault, and knowing him, he wouldn’t have deliberately said anything that would’ve put you in this position. It could just be Jungkook misconstruing things, but you’ve been caught off guard and you don’t feel like dealing with anyone right now.
Resuming your work, you do your last review of the expense report and leave it on his desk for his signature in the morning - a struggle considering how messy it is, which is also a rarity, as he always likes to keep things organized. You can tell how stressed he is just by this, and the thought hits you again that it’s the Board meeting in two days, and he needs you to be your best for him; he needs you to be calm and stable for him.
Whatever you’re feeling can be pushed to the side until next week. You’ll talk to Yoongi after all this is over, you tell yourself; it’s more important that you focus on your tasks and just act as professionally and as unbothered as possible.
That proves to be easy early the next morning. You go about preparing Jungkook’s day in his penthouse, going over your coordination and organization of the upcoming events and acting as if what happened yesterday doesn’t bother you, with him not acting out of the ordinary, too. It’s easy when you get to the office as well. He signs off on the expense reports and you go to finance with only minimal clarifications needed.
But when you return to your desk and Jungkook calls you to his room, you feel the tension start to build as you find Yoongi seated on the chair, his face turning sullen at the sight of you.
You nod at him but look away immediately, shifting your gaze towards Jungkook.
“What can I help you with, Mr. Jeon?”
“Deciding on the pieces to be displayed in the event halls of the Arts Center,” he replies. “Artist Lee Jaemin gave us her portfolio for us to choose from. And I’d like you and Yoongi to work on it together before lunch.”
This prompts you to look at Jungkook in surprise. He just told you off about the things you told Yoongi - which, to your defense, wasn’t even anything substantial - and now he’s making you work with the man.
“What about the run through of your presentation, sir?” You ask.
“I’ll do it with Manager Lee. His feedback will be adequate,” Jungkook replies. “I need your options because I’ll be speaking with her tonight about the chosen pieces.”
“I…, uh,” you stutter. “In what way can I be of help, Mr. Jeon? Wouldn’t Mr. Min be enough to make those decisions?”
“You hold the budget, Ms. Cho,” he reminds you. “We need to make sure we follow it. And you and Mr. Min understand my vision more than anyone and I need both of you to bring that to life with those artworks. I’m packed with meetings today so I don’t have time to sort through all of them. I trust that you’ll make the best decisions.”
“Of course we will, Jungkook,” Yoongi says, a bit of bitterness laced in it. “___ and I work well together. It isn’t the first time.”
Jungkook merely nods, and you feel the tension build up even more as both men share hardened looks that you can’t particularly decipher.
“I… I’ll go ahead and prepare the conference room. I shall see you there shortly, Mr. Min.”
You exit the office and breathe a sigh of relief from being out of there. You don’t know what their friendship is like, so you’re unsure if the tension is a sign of something serious or if it’s just a normal thing for them. You choose to brush it off for now and prepare for the meeting, walking to the pantry for a cup of tea before you do.
Back inside, both men remain unmoving, their gazes not faltering away from each other. Yoongi’s look of displeasure is a contrast to Jungkook’s somber, almost guilty face.
“Driving a wedge between us is kind of an asshole move, you know?” Yoongi finally says. “I don’t know what your deal is but this isn’t how you make it up to her. You don’t get to be nice one day then just decide you’ll be jealous and irrational the next without her even knowing what she did.”
“That’s… that’s not what I was trying to do,” Jungkook reasons.
“Then what were you trying to do?” Yoongi scoffs. “I was the one she turned down to have lunch with you. Actually, it was her plan, because she’s been spending so much time alone and she just wanted to hang out with a friend. And not only did you hinder that, you also made her feel like she did something wrong when all she said was that you had to talk about the Board meeting. No one would even bat an eye. Now she can’t even talk to me properly without fearing it’ll hurt your fragile ego.”
The truth is a huge slap on Jungkook’s face, and he feels it sting. He’s seen your comfort around his friend a few times. He also knows that Yoongi has been looking out for you when you fail to take care of yourself. And because of that jealousy and his fragile ego, you might just end up pushing Yoongi away, and isolating you is the last thing Jungkook wants to do.
He tries to say something but his throat dries up, knowing that verbalizing anything would prompt him to face feelings he’s trying so hard to suppress. He hopes Yoongi sees right through him, and the sullen look of the older man says he might.
“You’re not a bad person, Jungkook,” Yoongi says. “I don’t know what about her makes you like this. But if all you’ll do is find fault in everything she does, you’re gonna lose all the progress in your relationship. And you've got to know that’s not fair to her. You know she doesn’t deserve that.”
“She doesn’t.”
It’s the way Jungkook says the words that Yoongi knows his friend regrets what he’d done, perhaps not just yesterday but the other times as well. There’s this emptiness in Jungkook’s eyes that Yoongi hasn’t seen before; he doesn’t want the younger man to drown and lose himself in it.
“I’m… I’m, uh—”
“I know,” Yoongi interjects, knowing how hard it is for Jungkook to verbalize what he feels. “And I forgive you. I suggest you find the words and say them to her. Yeah?”
Jungkook merely nods, knowing that would be difficult for him, not because he won’t mean it but because they mean so much more. With you, it always does.
“I’ll head to meet with her now.”
“Please fix it,” Jungkook almost pleads. “I think she needs you.”
Yoongi gives a look of understanding then heads out to the conference room where he finds you seated already. The lights are dim, allowing him to see Lee Jaemin’s art pieces projected on the wall. You’re focused on your laptop screen, not budging even as he opens the door and sits next to you.
“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks, urging you to look at him.
“No,” you say softly.
“Then why do you act like you still are?” He asks sullenly. “You know I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t your fault though,” you reply, finally turning to him, your own soft eyes mirroring his. “You shouldn’t be apologizing.”
“But I want to. Because I know it matters that you hear the words even if they’re not from the person who needs to be saying them.”
“You know he doesn’t do that,” you sigh, knowing exactly who he means.
“He’ll have to learn how to. Or just stop having a reason to apologize in the first place.”
“We’ll see about that,” you shrug. “But I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know how to act yesterday and earlier. I just didn’t want any more drama.”
“I know, and it’s okay. It’s not your fault either. I had to call him out for it.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I called him an asshole.”
“You–what?”
“Well, sort of. He had to hear it, and it seemed like he knew it, too. That's why he wanted me to fix things. Not that anything was broken, as far as I know.”
“Is that why he made me meet with you?”
“Yes, about something that he and I could easily do over coffee or a meal,” Yoongi chuckles. “But like I told you before - he tries. It’s usually just a misstep or something more complicated than actually saying sorry.”
“It’s hard for him to say, I guess. Maybe he just has his own ways of saying them.”
“It’s still not an excuse to be an asshole though.”
“At least you’re there to call him out for it,” you chuckle.
Yoongi laughs along, knowing it’s a role in Jungkook’s life that he wouldn’t mind taking. And just like that, the tension between the two of you is gone. He throws in a few jokes in there that take seconds for you to process, and it’s his crinkled smile that makes you smile and feel comfortable as well. It’s the icebreaker you need before getting to work, and it takes you both until lunchtime to decide on which of Lee Jaemin’s pieces you think would fit well in the event halls that Jungkook wants to put them in.
It’s a different experience for you, as you’ve never made decisions like this before. You wouldn’t say you’re artistic in any sense, but Yoongi’s approval of your choices and agreement with your reasoning make you feel that you aren’t as design-blind as you think. And while Jungkook has the final say - you’re not even sure if your choices would make the final cut - it’s still satisfying to see the empty spaces come to life on your screen with artworks that you chose with Yoongi, while still being within budget.
You both walk back to your work area where you see Manager Lee, and he tells you that Jungkook seems ready for tomorrow’s Board meeting. You enter his office with Yoongi, presenting what you’ve come up with - the greens and pinks common in her pieces give the room so much life, and the imperfections of her subjects leave viewers with much to admire. From the tropics to intimacy, the bright yet muted palette of the images elicits both joy and loneliness.
Jungkook goes through them while you and Yoongi look on.
“I’ll check each piece again later,” Jungkook says. “But these look good; I’d choose these myself.”
“___ chose most of them,” Yoongi says, earning him a glare from you.
“Is that so, Ms. Cho?” Jungkook asks.
“Mr. Min helped. And those pieces just spoke to me, I guess,” you answer shyly. “They’re beautiful pieces, Mr. Jeon. But I don’t have any arts or design background so please feel free to change them.”
“We’ll see,” he says, looking at you with a kind of affirmation that you’re not used to.
You nod in response and check the time. He’s got another meeting in an hour and he should be having lunch soon.
“What would you like to eat, Mr. Jeon? I can get it for you,” you say.
“No need. I asked Mr. Ri to get me something. I figured you might have lunch plans,” Jungkook responds, glancing at you and then Yoongi.
You look at the man next to you, who motions towards the door and you get what he means immediately.
“Okay, Mr. Jeon. I’ll go take my break now.”
You walk out with Yoongi who asks you what you’re craving, and sweet and sour pork comes to mind. He chuckles at your excited face, and you grab your purse and head out, turning back once to catch Jungkook watching you walk away.
Maybe this is his apology. In whatever form it is, you’ll take it. You find sometimes that the silence in place of words means a lot more, in ways that feel more.
The rest of your afternoon again feels like a blur, as you meet with the support team about the upcoming events and make sure everyone is on the same page. You spend an hour on the phone with Lucas about some Singapore and Malaysia-based Korean artists who are flying for the project launch in a few weeks while Jungkook goes from one virtual meeting to another.
It’s 5:30 before you know it, and you’re working on your spreadsheets when Jungkook walks out of his office, saying that he’s meeting with Lee Jaemin later in the evening and that he’ll just update you about the final pieces.
You acknowledge him and wish him goodbye, but he stops on the way, at the entrance towards the hallway, making sure he remains present while unable to see you.
“Ms. Cho,” he calls out, surprising you.
“Yes, Mr. Jeon?”
“About what I said yesterday, I apologize,” he says, almost stuttering. “Especially if it caused a rift between you and Yoongi. I didn’t intend that.”
You’re too shocked to say anything, much more process the words that you can’t believe he’s saying. But he really is apologizing; he really is trying.
“It… it’s okay, Mr. Jeon. I understand.”
There’s a beat of silence, and you’re left to observe him from this angle - jaws clenched, head bowed down.
He deeply exhales. “I’ll go now. No need to stay late; you can go home when you’re able.”
“Okay, sir. Have a good night.”
He finally leaves, and the silence engulfs you. Sometimes, words in any form truly matter. You could only hope that Jungkook knows that.
The suit that you choose for Jungkook for today’s big day is a dark gray textured piece. He looks immaculate as he stands before you, and you try your best to even your breathing as you fix his tie like you do every morning. There’s something about him today that makes him more handsome than usual - a quality that you’ve found yourself admitting and accepting more easily as the days go by. He exudes a certain kind of confidence and power with his attire and his parted hair. There’s determination in his eyes as he stands tall, ready to face the day.
And you’re there, admiring the way he carries himself just inches away.
You fix the collar of his suit and make sure that all creases are flattened. You meet his eyes and the confidence melts away a little.
“Do I look respectable enough?” He asks, a little less serious than you expected. It’s when you see the nervousness in his eyes that you know how important today is for him.
“Yes,” you assure him. “You also look ready to impress the Board members with your presentation and get them on your side. I’m sure your vision about the Arts Center will make them believers.”
“Ah, well, that’s asking for too much, I guess,” he laughs dryly. “But I was on the call with Lee Jaemin last night and she was so excited for the launch. It would get her to visit Seoul often, she said, and that made me realize that artists like her and the consumers, the ordinary people, the ones who the Center is for - they’re the ones who matter. It’s their interest and appreciation that I value, not the Board’s.”
“That’s a good realization to come to, then, Mr. Jeon,” you smile, suddenly feeling like you’re seeing a different man - someone who cares about meaning and the power of art. “I suppose if that’s your mindset coming into the meeting, then you’ll definitely do well.”
“I think if there’s at least one other person who ends up believing in the value of the Center, that would be enough for me,” he says, holding your gaze for a while before turning away. “But uh, today is more than that. You and I both know they’re there to assess my capabilities - social and otherwise - and definitely point out what I lack, or probably tell me I’m not cut out for this job or that I’m terrible or something. I mean, you would know, right?”
His eyes, focused downward, slowly shift to you. You know what he means, and given that he isn’t the type to admit to things, this is probably the only other time that he comes close to acknowledging how he was to you.
“Mr. Jeon, if you’re indeed terrible, I would have quit after a week. Or… well, after the second day,” you admit.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Well, I couldn’t afford to,” you chuckle to ease the tension. “But also I… I saw the change. And that’s always a good thing. Lacking something is normal. We all have things we need to work on but that doesn’t make us terrible people. That just means we need a bit of understanding from others. And that also means we just have to keep trying to be better.”
There’s a sullenness in Jungkook’s eyes but there’s acceptance and understanding, too. Perhaps it’s the most sincere you’ve seen him look, and of all the days that he needs assurance about how he’s been, today is when he needs it the most. Sure, there are still things about him that you wish he’d work on. He’s still not the best person in the world. He could still be a bit impulsive with you and can sometimes be irrational in your eyes and definitely needs work on dealing with his emotions. But he’s trying. That always counts for something.
“We do,” he nods.
“Your father believes in you. Hoseok believes in you, so does Yoongi.” Holding his gaze, you add, “so do I. So trust in yourself. If you can’t do it for you, you can do it for us.”
“Is giving pep talks part of the job description?”
“It should,” you giggle. “But I’ve given several of them to Mr. Jung. I’ve learned that during stressful moments or just when we’re a little overwhelmed, it makes a difference to hear the things we already know from someone else.”
“I’m a little stubborn, but I hope you continue doing that for me. For as long as you think I deserve it.”
Jungkook doesn’t know where the honesty and vulnerability are coming from. But he’s found that with you, it’s natural - difficult because they’re things he rarely is around other people, but natural. He doesn’t want to question it anymore for fear of learning what else is instinctive for him when it comes to you. But with the way his insides melt with how you sweetly and assuringly smile at him, he realizes that his defenses against you are not that strong to begin with.
“Well, we don’t have time to pass by a cafe for a nice breakfast so I asked Mr. Ri to get some instead,” you announce, changing the subject now.
You walk towards the dining room where he follows, and you present a spread of pastries, walnut tarts, and sausage rolls alongside a large cup of coffee.
“I don’t really eat before a big meeting,” he says, frowning a little. “I’m sure Lucas told you that.”
“He did, but I’m a little stubborn, too,” you counter. “Breakfast is important before a big meeting, Mr. Jeon. It’ll help you focus, even if that’s just one tart or half a danish or a quarter of a roll. Eating will improve your energy levels and lift your mood. It might help ease your nerves somehow.”
“Fine, but I’ll just have half a roll.”
“No worries. You can always eat some more throughout the day,” you say.
Jungkook ends up finishing the entire roll and a walnut tart, while you finish a danish and settle for tea. You pack up what’s left, and he instructs you to give the rest to the team.
The car ride is quiet, save for the gentle sound of his pencil gliding through the pages of his leather notebook. He seems to be channeling his energy in a way that allows him to be calm, you think, and that’s a good thing.
You arrive at the building and Jungkook goes straight to his office while you excuse yourself to go to the conference room to help the other assistants prepare it. You don’t see Jungkook until an hour later when he enters, and you lead him to his seat then serve his coffee afterwards. It gets busy quickly as the Board members arrive, and you help in ushering them to their seats and catering to their needs. Before you know it, the assistants are heading out, leaving them and the executives to discuss confidential matters that none of you are required to know.
It’s another two hours before the presentations start, but Jungkook won’t go until after lunch. So you settle in your desk and work on various things, unable to fully focus because your mind constantly goes to him.
This is normal, you convince yourself; you had the same nervous energy for Hoseok the first time he did this. But then again, it was your first time, too. Perhaps it’s knowing how much it means to Jungkook and his own worries that makes you feel uneasy.
You understand the feeling of wanting to prove oneself, and not always being able to fully express that desire to others. He’s been honest with you recently, and sometimes it can feel quite isolating when no one is there to share the burden, which is why you’ve been trying to cheer him up and encourage him, in hopes that he’ll feel supported, that whatever happens today, he knows he has you on his side.
You proceed to the function hall for the catered lunch where you meet Jungkook. He shares the table with Hoseok and Bitna, as well as Ji-woo and her assistant, and you engage in conversation with them like old times.
Jungkook watches you speak to his cousins casually but respectfully, and he doesn’t miss the inside jokes and personal details that you all share. You still look a little reserved, but there’s this comfort in the way you express yourself around people who trust and care for and respect you.
He’s always known Hoseok and Ji-woo to be great with the employees, and a part of Jungkook envies that they’re able to just share parts of themselves with others, that they’re able to expend their time and energy being around them, something that’s always been difficult for him. He likes his privacy, likes his own space; he revels in the silence to battle the noise in his head. He’s protective of his thoughts and his feelings; he’s particular with who uses his time and energy on; he keeps his distance because it’s always easier - to not be involved, to not be invested, to not be known at all rather than be judged because of what people know.
He also thinks it’s quite isolating. Outside of his family - whom he keeps his distance from as well - the only person who knows him enough is Lucas, but it’s as shallow as just knowing his preferences and his technical opinion on things, not his dreams or fears or everyday thoughts and emotions.
Jungkook isn’t someone that people go to for advice or for encouraging words; he’s not someone that people ask about how he’s doing; he’s not a person that others seek for comfort or warmth. He’s just a man who does his work, that people serve, that people want approval from for their own gains. He’s not someone they’d go through lengths for. He just takes up space that others orbit around but he’s not the center of their world; he isn’t anybody’s.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Jeon?” You disrupt his thoughts. “Is there anything you want?”
“Chocolate milk,” he says too quickly. “Uh, only if there is.”
“Hot?”
“Yes.”
You call the server and ask if they have any, but the man says they don’t, so you decide to head to one of the stalls at the food hall downstairs.
“You don’t have to,” Jungkook says, pulling your wrist in reflex as you stand up.
You’re caught off guard and so is he, and he immediately lets go and apologizes for it. The guilt in his eyes is similar to the one you saw at the restaurant when you’d admitted that he made you feel uncomfortable, and something about it makes you feel moved.
“I mean, uh, it’s okay. It’s not urgent,” he adds, looking away.
“If it’ll help, then I should get it for you, Mr. Jeon,” you insist. “It won’t take long. I’ll be back before lunch ends.”
You don’t wait for a response and head out, leaving Jungkook with curious looks from his cousins.
“So, I see you’ve warmed up to her already,” Ji-woo hums, smiling.
“You could say that,” Jungkook shrugs, acting nonchalant.
“Well, it’s about time you did,” Ji-woo shakes her head. “She works incredibly hard and she’s very reliable.” At the younger man’s nod in agreement, she adds, “you just had to give her a chance. There’s a reason why uncle and Hoseok wanted her around for you.”
“I guess,” Jungkook hums. “She’s… she’s a good person. I don’t really know if I deserve that but she is to me. She’s required to be, I suppose.”
“Or she sees you as a human being who needs a bit of warmth and joy in his life,” Ji-woo suggests. “Kindness goes a long way, you know? She’s said before that there are people who have extended it to her and maybe she’s just doing that, too.”
“Or maybe she sees something in you,” Hoseok says now.
“Like what?” Jungkook scoffs, knowing himself that after he’s treated you, there’s no way you’d see something in him, whatever that is.
“Like an emptiness, or yearning. Something she feels, too,” Hoseok responds. “Maybe she’s unknowingly making you feel something that she wants to feel herself, you know? I had A-yeong, my sister, my parents, my friends... Seeing her now with you, she didn’t pay attention to my every need the way she’s doing now, and that’s not a criticism of her. Perhaps she just knew that I had other people to do that.”
“And I’m the lonely, single, friendless man that she’s stuck with,” Jungkook laughs dryly, although he’s not offended. Deep down, he knows it’s true.
“Sort of,” Hoseok chuckles. “But what I really mean is that she knows what it’s like to not have someone to look after her like that. You may think it’s just her job but I think it’s her not wanting you to feel like there’s no one there for you. Maybe if you see it that way, you wouldn’t think you don’t deserve it. Then you can accept it and maybe you can do the same.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jungkook counters, given that keeping his distance is exactly what he plans to do because any closer would just lead him down a path that he won’t be able to escape from.
“It’s not that deep,” Ji-woo says. “I think what my brother is saying is that it’s okay to be friends, you know? Or just allow her to be nice to you and then return the favor. It’s a much better dynamic. I mean, I’m sure he’s told you but things are just gonna be more challenging down the road, once you’re past the adjusting phase. You’ll need her like you’ve never needed anyone before. I do mean that professionally, but that also requires a kind of relationship where you know and trust and respect each other. It goes both ways.”
Jungkook takes in his cousins’ words, knowing that they speak from experience, and they’ve been doing this longer than he has. He already knows he needs you. That itself terrifies him. He also knows he has to rely on you, and maybe that entails allowing you to care for him in ways that no one - not since Chaerin, at least - has ever done before. That means letting you come close, allowing you to know him, letting you be there for him. Doing the same for you isn’t a question of whether he wants to or not - he’ll probably be denying it to his grave, but it’s about whether he can remain within the boundaries he set for himself, knowing already how you affect him without even doing much.
The thought gives Jungkook a headache, but it’s not something he can give attention to right now. He’s got a presentation to do in less than an hour. He’ll be scrutinized and questioned and probably judged and then he realizes it again - he needs you through all that. He already knows you’ll be encouraging and supportive; you’ve shown that in the past week especially, and he’s appreciated and hated every single moment of it.
The hurried footsteps signal that you’re back, and you take your seat next to him.
You’re panting as you place the cup on the table. “Here you go, Mr. Jeon. I’m not sure if it’s as milky as you want it but the really good cafe downstairs said it should be good. Oh and uh, wrap your hands around it,” you instruct, earning you a curious look. “Your hands are very cold.”
Jungkook does as you say, feeling the warmth of the drink through his skin, even more when he takes a sip and finds that it tastes just as he wanted.
“This is good. Thank you,” he utters, not wanting to meet your eyes.
You exhale a sigh of relief. You know how he has particular tastes and you just went with a hot chocolate even if he specifically said he wanted chocolate milk. There’s a brand he likes from Lucas’ list and you didn’t have time to actually get it or even store the office pantry with it - which you realize now you should do, and you make a mental note of doing an inventory so you could request for more of the things he likes later on.
“You’re welcome,” you reply. “I… I hope it helps for the presentation. Or the nerves. Or just in general.”
“It has,” he confirms, humming with every sip.
Not long after, everyone is instructed to head back to the conference room so the meeting can resume. You take your seat with the other assistants at the side after you’ve ensured that the presentation is ready while Jungkook heads to the front. You watch him go through his notes a final time, and when he sets them aside and looks up, his eyes find yours.
They’re still tainted with worry, you can tell even from several feet away. So you give him a comforting smile, knowing it’s what he needs. You gently nod and give him a double thumbs up as if to say that he can do it, and he nods back, as if to say that he’ll do his best.
And that’s exactly what he does.
The presentation goes for a quarter of an hour, and while he does give a good rundown of the achievements of the past three months, it’s his pitch of the Arts Center that really makes him shine. The visuals are good to begin with. He did those blueprints himself and the designs give life to his vision, but he explains every aspect of the project with just enough detail to enable the audience to imagine how it looks and what it makes them feel. He took into consideration earlier worries about profits and brand reputation, as well as anticipated questions and points of attack, so he goes ahead and addresses them to the point that he can’t be scrutinized for anything that’s lacking. He keeps in mind the qualities of each Board member, so he makes eye contact if he needs to and acknowledges side comments and builds on them.
He’s definitely added more - and improved - since that first runthrough you did with him, and he looks very confident and very respectable. You can tell that he values not just profits but art itself - its creation, its appreciation, and the various ways it can be experienced. As someone who yearns for that kind of passion for something, seeing him like this is quite moving.
It doesn’t help that he looks as good as he does standing up there, and it’s a thought you let yourself have before dispelling it quickly.
He gets approving nods from most of the Board members. The rest still look a bit doubtful, but you suppose they wouldn’t directly criticize Jungkook and his plans in front of everyone after a presentation like that. You also take a peak at CEO Jeon who’s unable to hide how proud he is of his son. Hoseok and Ji-woo exchange smiles as well. But Jungkook remains focused, ready to answer any questions or comments from the Board.
Mr. Mun is the first to commend him and doesn’t ask much. Mr. Im surprisingly praises Jungkook after admitting his reservations, and Mr. Saito, as you expected, asks clarificatory questions that just builds on what was earlier presented. Jungkook’s readiness and creativity are highlighted as well, and you can tell that the older man is extremely excited for this project.
The hour is up before you know it, with only minimal questions and a few comments from the attendees. Ji-woo and Hoseok raise points to help with marketing and earning profit, and you take note of all those for discussion and debriefing next week.
Jungkook thanks everyone before returning to his seat, and you see the breath he lets out after, seemingly glad that that’s at least over. You catch his attention again, and you can’t help your smile. He acknowledges you with a nod, and he turns his focus towards Hoseok as the next presenter. The afternoon goes by like this, with Ji-woo going last and CEO Jeon closing out the meeting.
There’s some time before the fellowship dinner, which is spent with side conversations and check-ins. Mr. Saito goes to Jungkook right away and you see the latter’s face light up a little, although you don’t miss the sniffing and the throat clearing that he does. You think that his cold hands earlier weren’t due to his nervousness; perhaps the last month has finally caught up to him because you truly believe that this man does not rest.
You head out to return to your desk, knowing you’ve got several things to do before the dinner that assistants are invited to. You fly through your notes from earlier and some administrative tasks before heading back to the event hall where you find Jungkook talking to Mrs. Seo and Mr. Ong this time, two people who’d most likely be critical of him so you’re glad that he’s at least forging some relations, if their animated way of speaking is any indication.
You see him excuse himself to head to the washroom, and you take this time to order a cup of ginseng tea for him. It arrives just as he returns to his seat, and when it registers why you’d ordered it, he nods and mumbles his thanks.
“If I may, perhaps you shouldn’t stay long, Mr. Jeon,” you suggest. “It’s been a tiring week and you need to rest.”
Jungkook hates being told what to do, but he’s also never had someone tell him to rest because he needs it, much less even know that he’s not feeling alright.
“I need to engage with the Board,” he reasons. “I’m sure that’s what father would like. I can rest during the weekend.”
“Okay, sir,” you sigh, knowing he’s also right. Perhaps he’s accepted that this is a critical part of his new role as Vice President. “Just let me know if there’s anything more that I can help you with.”
“I will.”
You sit at the table where the other assistants are, engaging in hushed conversations as you talk about the Board members and how tired you all are. It’s nice being around them, as you all share the experience of stress and isolation, of knowing too much sometimes, of security and stagnancy. They know what you’re going through, partially at least - unlike you, they have people to go home to and proper hobbies that excite them. They have loved ones close by and things they look forward to during the weekends. So while they do make you feel understood, you also can’t help but be a bit jealous.
Your thoughts are suspended when Bitna offers to take you home. It’s well past 9 and you’re not keen on staying longer to drink with the rest of the big bosses here. You glance at Jungkook who has a wine in hand, clearly trying his best to keep up with the conversations he’s a part of. He looks incredibly tired - much more than usual - and you feel bad that this isn’t something you can help him with.
You take Bitna’s offer and you both head to your respective bosses to bid your goodbyes. Jungkook nods and mentions his meeting with the artist last night that he says he’ll discuss with you on Monday. There’s more you want to say, but you worry he’ll think you’re nagging about his health - which, you remind yourself, is also part of your job - and you don’t want to end the week on a sour note.
Jungkook watches you leave the event hall and he immediately feels your absence. Even when you spent much of your time apart, he could feel you there, partly because of the ginseng tea that you ordered for him twice at your insistence and partly because the knowledge that you’re around is enough. And now you aren’t, and he suddenly can’t stand any more of the socializing he has to do.
But he powers through it for another hour. When he bids his father goodbye, the older man commends him for his presentation earlier and the way he handled himself throughout the fellowship dinner. It’s assuring, but he knows there’s so much more work to be done so he doesn’t revel in it any longer than a few seconds.
The drive home is quiet. His soft groans as he massages his temples are the only sounds in the car. When he arrives at his empty penthouse, he grabs a bottle of whiskey from the counter and sits on the couch - a glass in hand, necktie and buttons undone, feet on the coffee table, and head rolled back as he reminds himself that he survived the day, that he did a good job, and that he changed some of the Board members’ minds about him.
And much as he tries to keep away the image of you, he’s unable to - there you were in the room, on his side, cheering him on. He didn’t miss the satisfied smile on your face once he finished his presentation, nor your look of worry after the ginseng tea was placed on the table.
You’re just good at that - making him feel like someone looks out for him, that someone else minds that he succeeds, that someone cares that he’s not well and that he should rest.
The smile on his face fades once he’s reminded that you’re supposed to do all that, and that he isn’t anyone special, nor should he be. It’s the thought that keeps him behind the lines - you’re unattainable in so many ways, yet he’s also glad that you are. It’s easier to be mindful of his place like that; it’s easier to accept that you’re you and he’s him, and it’s easier to do his job when he knows you’re just doing yours.
At least, that’s what he hopes.
But when he gets a call from reception the next morning about a package that you dropped off, all that wishful thinking seems pointless. And as he stares at the bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of him, all his thoughts from the night before come crashing down.
Why is everything so hard when it comes to you?
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