#also how early is this supposed to be in his career he is getting his shit absolutely rocked by livewire

[navree]

my adventures with superman turning deathstroke the fucking terminator into an anime twink is the single greatest thing i've seen in the history of animation i have not been able to stop laughing

#personal #my adventures with superman #honestly the second this guy showed up with his hair covering an eye i started wondering if t'was slade #and it is! it's twink slade! i had to pause the episode to try and stop giggling #i do love it i do love twink slade i think he should be a recurring character #with his white hair and his gold eye god bless him #also how early is this supposed to be in his career he is getting his shit absolutely rocked by livewire #(makes sense he does repeatedly get his ass handed to him by teenagers including his own children) #(but still come on twink slade) #he is hot tho i'm immediately on board with him being in this show

[bangficsx]

PLANNERS

pairing : jungkook x reader insert

word count : 7777 [coincidence ;)]

synopsis : wedding planner hooks up with the bride's cousin

warning : slight dry humping, teasing, blowjob, fingering, cum swallowing, squirting, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it's just a fic), a dick pic i don't think there's anything else..

"I already got the number given for how many tables and chairs are to be set up" the man tells you, leaving you in disbelief.

"I think you have a misunderstanding. I'm the event manager. I was supposed to have a meeting with you about it." You try to put forward your argument which gets dismissed again immediately.

"A certain gentleman came two hours before and told me everything in detail" the man answers getting irritated by your insistence about his mistake.

"Now please do not waste my time miss. I've got a lot of other clients." You turn around and roll your eyes, stomping forward murmuring "again".

It wasn't the first time your job got done by your customer. You have never met one like this before in the hundreds of weddings and events you've arranged. Why pay a hefty sum to you if they want to do everything on their own?

You make up your mind and set out on a quest to find the mysterious man who keeps completing the tasks he hired you to perform. And you've already assumed he must be the typical arrogant asshole from your nightmares.

The next morning, you leave for the photographer's studio three hours early. You were supposed to meet them to decide the lighting and type of camera that is to be used. What kind of shots the couple wants.

In your two year long career, you've never had an upset client. You try your best to deliver the exact kind of wedding they must've dreamt of for their whole lives.

The wedding ceremony is one of the most important events of a human's life. The most joyous celebration that unites two individuals and families together.

And you make those dreams come true. It's in your hand to control all that is controllable on that most special day of someone's life.

This wedding is by far the most expensive one you've ever handled. Usually you would manage two or three in a month. But they put a condition asking  you only focus on theirs for the month the wedding's scheduled in.

The groom started his own tech company at just 20 and earned a name for himself. While the bride is the ceo of a pharmaceutical company her dad left to her.

You ask your photographer if they got any emails about your event and when they checked they actually had one. You asked them for the address ensuring them there would be no consequences.

When you search the email address, you find it mentioned on a linked in account. You assume it must be the bride Si-young's cousin as you clearly remember her telling you she doesn't have any siblings of her own.

You find the man has attended a business school abroad and has professional posts about the company. Again you assume, he must work in the company too. Probably hold some influential position and hence, acts like such an asshole.

You also come from a well to do family yet you never understood why rich people spend money on services they don't even use.

You look at the picture of the man carefully. A pretty good looking man for sure. And you smirk when you find him in the car that's driving up the street just like you expected.

You feel stupid that you'd shared the schedule with them to assure everything would be done in time. There was a fair amount of time left yet you were working everyday as it was a big scale event, a grand affair. Two business tycoons coming together along with their souls and hearts.

You walk upto the spot where he parks his car. Resolute to give him an earful about what has been happening for the last week.

You stand with your hands folded waiting for him to ask what you want and to gladly tell him to let you do your job. He walks past you and enters the studio leaving you gasping.

You stomp your feet and follow him. Fuming in anger, you call behind him "excuse me mister what do you think are you doing huh?"

He keeps talking with the photographer showing her samples that you were supposed to show and tells them they want better ones than those.

"Mr Jeon!" You call him again. He finally turns around.

"Can I help you?" He asks as if he's clueless.

"Yes. I think you're aware that Ms Si-young and her fiancé have appointed me as their wedding planner. I'm the one whose supposed to perform the tasks you've been performing. It's my job" You finally release all your pent up frustration.

"It's complicated" he says and turns around to continue his conversation.

"Excuse me sir do you not understand how much inconvenience you've been causing me. I have been wasting my precious time and money to travel miles only to find you've already done the job" you shout unable to believe something like this could ever happen.

"Look it's not my problem. I told Si-young that I would look after every little detail about her wedding. It's not my fault if she paid someone to do it. Just keep the money." He says with an expression that says he wants you to fuck off but you aren't going to give up so easily.

Going away with free money is easy. But you're not gonna do that. It's a large sum of money that you received. And you need to manage this event to enhance your portfolio. Grabbing this opportunity is so far your biggest achievement. If you do this you'd be able to kick all the asses that laughed on your face when you told them your career choice was becoming an event manager.

And your stubbornness resulted into the gentleman bringing you to a café to explain to you why he wants to arrange everything by himself. How much it means to him. What Si-young denies to accept.

"Her dad died when she was nineteen. She was abroad studying when he was on his deathbed. I was by his side through out his sickness. And his dream was to have a perfect wedding for his only daughter. Look she's the only thing he ever had. Her mother died before he could marry her. He meant a lot to me because you see my dad all our fortune drinking and gambling. Uncle took me in and provided me with the best of opportunities and education and in turn it helped me send money to my family. He saved us and now I want to fulfill his last wish and dream. That's why I want to arrange the whole wedding. Ensure everything is absolutely perfect. Si-young likes to flex her money, she thinks just spending lots of money will get her the perfect wedding day. She doesn't understands only someone who deeply cares and loves her would ensure perfection." You feel attacked and he surely knows he's being rude to make you run but you're not going to, not so easily.

You've had enough experience dealing with people who won't trust you. Parents of brides and grooms, brides and grooms themselves, even your own parents.

You quickly pull your tablet put and open your browser which already has a tab open with your website on it.

"Well Sir I'd like to tell you I've been an event manager with an expertise in wedding planning for two years now. I've successfully managed a hundred weddings now and this is my profile. As you can probably see with your own eyes I'm able to put up the best possible events." You tell him proudly because nobody else ever takes pride in you.

"Look I've told you I want to do it and I'm going to do it no matter how much you try to" he says again and you can't bear it anymore.

You lash out "You don't understand how hard I've worked to get here alright. I've worked my ass off the past four years. Two years as an intern where I worked like a dog and then at my own company. I have been able to get here based on sheer hard work and nothing else. I'm not gonna let you snatch it away from me." He watches your nostrils flare, and your skin turn red.

"Alright calm down. Take a deep breath" he says before he sighs.

"Please" You can't believe yourself and takes everything in you to stoop like this but you speak the word out.

It's the way you ask him that he relates to you in some sense. He knows what working hard is like and can tell from your eyes you're speaking the truth.

"Can we do it together then?" He offers.

You roll your eyes at him, contemplate then answer "fine"

"So easy.. you had to make it so hard" he chuckles and you look away trying to hide your smile.

"At least get a black coffee for self respect. You're embarrassing me along with yourself" You point out that you two have been sitting for too long without ordering something.

"Sorry" he mumbles before ordering.

"It's okay" you respond.

"You just wanna... keep... sitting on the same table" he asks fearing another outburst from you.

"People might misinterpret if I suddenly leave and sit somewhere else." You answer. Think it might benefit both of you.

"How so?" He asks. You don't understand if he lacks experience assuming he might have drowned himself in studies first and now work or he's just messing with you and having his own fun in it.

"We looked like we were fighting. They might think we were a couple... and we broke up" you answer clearing all his doubts.

"You're kinda clever you know" he says.

"No doubt" you answer.

Your coffees arrive and you both silently sip from your cups. He keeps glancing at you then at the table. Covers his mouth not known to you, he's covering a foolish grin, a blush because he can't stop looking at you and get reminded of how cute he found you in control of anger. How he adores a smart woman who can take a stand for themselves and don't give up.

"You know complete silence can be misinterpreted in a way too" he leans over the table folding his arms.

"Certainly" you agree. Also you are finding it impossible to resist the urge to talk to him.

A part of you is unable to believe you are having coffee even that you're sitting at the same table with a person who studied from one of the top business schools of the world.

"You want a sandwich or something... lemme compensate you for all the money you spent at least obviously I can't return you the time" he speaks looking around for the waitress. Before you can refuse he has already ordered two. You didn't say anything because you could hear your stomach grumbling in hunger. You hadn't eaten a proper dinner last night too.

"You know I kinda understand her dad and you too" your words grab his attention. He looks at you, fluttering his eyes, without any shame not moving them away.

"Hmm" he finds himself at a lack of words.

"It's pretty important to my dad too... That someday my wedding goes well if it happens. But we aren't really on good terms anymore so I don't really know what's gonna happen when the time comes" you tell him. Mustering the courage to finally open up. You've been in your shell for way too long now. It's been five months since you and your girlfriend broke up.

"What happened" he asks trying to not offend. "If you're comfortable to share" he quickly adds.

Your sandwiches arrive right before you start answering, "He wanted me to be an engineer but I had no interest in that area. So he didn't help me tuition for undergrad or anything at all. Mom is a homemaker so she couldn't help me as such. Then when I started my business even then he didn't give any seed money or anything. So far I've been able to manage on my own so I guess I'll arrange my own wedding by myself too. I've got one life, I'm gonna live it out on my own terms. I don't give a fuck anymore" you bite a huge piece off your sandwich not caring what he thinks.

"I'm proud of you" he mutters.

You are surprised to hear that and make no efforts to hide that, "What... what did you just say?" You ask.

"Oh you heard it. You're strong and self made so..." he scratches his nape nervously.

"Thanks" you tell him.

You take another bite of your sandwich.

"Also my parents don't know that I'm bi" You blurt out, kinda on purpose to see if he's gonna back off because of that but it doesn't budges him. He seems to be absolutely fine with it. And there have been many who have left after you state that fact about yourself.

When you both finish eating you walk outside the café together.

"Sorry for wasting your time like that" you apologise. "You seem like you have a serious job"

"No it's not like that... it's all for Si-young and she means a lot to me, even more than my own siblings." He quickly explains.

"Wine tasting tomorrow 5pm" You remind him although he must already have it pinned on his schedule.

"See ya" he leaves after getting in his car. He wanted to ask you to get in the car and drop you wherever it was you needed to go but he had a meeting in an hour and had to prepare for it.

The next day, you meet again. You feel guilty of the excitement of sorts that you hold in your heart to meet him again.

You thought about him all day long the day before, all night and all morning. He was beautiful and kind. Inspiring and caring. You'd never met a guy like that before.

You skip your usual pants and shirt work outfit and instead wear a dress. With a denim jacket on top and boots to walk in.

The wine seller was not a long distance away from your place. You had a home office setup and were saving for an actual office.

You find that Jungkook has already reached the location and was waiting for you. You feel embarrassed not knowing for how long he's been there.

He walks upto you and greets you and you do the same. You walk inside together.

"We have a booking for a wine tasting" you ask the receptionist who points at an old man sitting in a corner. She asks him to take over.

You and Jungkook sit at a table with glasses placed in front of you. The old man uninterested to work asks you to just tell whichever tastes best after showing you samples from what they offer at weddings. You know that the place has the best wines so you don't object towards the behaviour.

"Should we try this one first?" He asks.

You both try the same wines and wait for a few seconds for the taste to settle in.

"No way" You answer. He chuckles and nods.

"OK, trust me this isn't their best" you tell him quickly not letting him doubt your choice of wine seller.

"You've had the best one before?" He asks.

"Yeah someone gifted me once" you get reminded of your ex who brought it for your anniversary. It brings back all the bitter memories from your breakup. It was the longest, strongest relationship of your life yet it ended in such a bad way. You still haven't completely forgotten her.

"Jungkook" you take his name as if he's a friend of yours.

"Yeah everything alright?" He senses the change in your tone and expressions because he hasn't looked anywhere else.

"Can you... can you please taste these and tell me which one you like best? I'm sure you have a great taste in alcohol." You request him. He looks at you and nods.

He picks up a glass and drinks from it. You're sure he must have a hundred questions rushing through his mind but he's not asking them out of politeness.

"Don't wanna kill you with curiosity it's just because my last ex and to be honest one of the best ones brought the best wine from here for our anniversary so I don't wanna taste it and remember it all again. It was pretty terrible... the break up" you purse your lips.

"I'm not curious about those things" he sips another wine and makes a face furrowing his eyebrows. You don't know what to make of it, it looks like he's gonna get angry at you for bringing you to a place which has not a single good one.

"How are these their bestsellers... like what the fuck is even happening here" you look around to call someone and ask them if they actually arranged you the best samples.

"No wait... fuck.." he takes another sip. "Heaven" a moan escapes his mouth before he presses his lips together.

"You like it? I was worried, thought you were gonna get angry at me" you sigh in relief and he laughs, giggles looking at your face.

"Why would I ever get angry at you?" He shrugs his shoulders.

"I boasted about this particular place so I'm bound to be questioned if it doesn't turns out as per the expectations I have planted in someone else's mind. Part of my job is to have a varied taste because different people like different things and I have to cater to their needs accordingly." You speak and he was mesmerized with you.

"You speak so well... damn. You really are passionate about what you do" hee says.

"Yes I am" you confirm.

"I like people with passion for their jobs" he says. You feel butterflies in your tummy. You know how he's indirectly pointing at you.

"So... should I go sort it out with them?" You ask.

"You know... you could drink some other wine. I don't like getting drunk alone" he says.

"Well if you feel like that" you buy a mid range bottle for yourself and ask for a glass. It's not necessarily a place to sit and drink in, yet you two are the only ones there. And you don't like making people feel lonely so you'd better get a little drunk too. And wine makes you feel kinda cosy, drunk but still like yourself.

You can see that he is tipsy. He buys the wine he liked for himself. Once you're both finished you step outside the store.

"How did you get here?" You ask.

"Took a cab" he answers. "Driving wouldn't have been a smart thing to do if I knew I was gonna drink" he adds.

"Don't you have like drivers" you ask curiously. The alcohol starts to have it's effects with the passage of time.

"Not me" he answers your query.

"Hope you aren't getting late for any plans" he says checking if you haven't forgotten about something.

"Why are you curious now?" You smirk.

"Don't want you to blame me later that I got you drunk"

"I drank out of my own will. Just say you're curious to know if I have a partner. I can sense your intentions very well Jeon" you walk away from him but he giggles and steps closer again. You move away again and he pulls you, gently holding your arm.

"Hey I have no such intentions" he denies.

"I'm not so naive to not notice" you keep walking forward with a straight face.

You are certain of what's going on inside his mind. You were sure of your attraction when you first saw him. You've had enough of crying over your ex and remembering the things she did to you. All you need is someone else to do even better things to you.

"By the way... how old are you?" He asks hesitantly.

"Not a minor for sure" you try to annoy him.

"Real age please ma'am" he rolls his eyes.

"Turning 24 in a couple months" you tell him wondering if he's older than you or if he would be uncomfortable that you're younger than him.

"I'm 26, means I can talk informally with  you" he states without you asking.

You don't know why you keep walking further. Even though you know you should just take a cab and go back home yet it's like you're waiting for something. You want to just get even the glimpse of an opportunity. Even though a part of you knows it's not completely right but that adds to the thrill of it all.

"Are you sure you don't have someone waiting for you?" You ask him indirectly.

You are begging inside your heart to know that he's single.

You can't stop the trail of dirty thoughts that follows as you see his skin shining with the layer of sweat that's covering his face. He flicks his lip ring with his tongue, you see him bite his lip before he looks at you with a hint of lust in his eyes.

"Umm no. I have been single for like two years now. My ex left behind a lot of damage too. Took me a lot of therapy and strength to get through it all. We dated four years, I thought she was the one and only and well..." he pauses. You understand what he means and nod.

"I'm sure your little heart will heal" you pat his chest lightly and he smiles. His hand brushes yours as he shifts to walk closer to you even though you barely had an inch between you two.

The image of him biting his lip replays in your mind. You glance at his lips again which he parts making you avert your gaze before he notices.

He's in a leather jacket, white t-shirt, black skinny jeans. Your eyes travel south and get a quick look at the fabric hugging his toned thighs. You wonder if how many abs he's got under the shirt. Fuck, you can't believe your brain is fantasizing about a man you've only met twice when the sun has just started to set.

"You're curious about so many things right now but you aren't asking isn't it?" You smile looking at him. Try to ease the tension because you can sense it building in him too.

"Oh come what do you think I'm even curious about?" He scoffs.

"We're all curious about things Jungkook" you say. You almost trip over a rock but he holds your hand. He keeps holding it just in case you lose balance again. You both are equally tipsy.

"Well what are you curious about?" He asks after a moment.

"Well you know like what happens after death? What will happen to me if the number of people getting married keeps decreasing? What cock tastes like?" The last one makes him cough and stare you.

"You're so drunk" he says.

"Not so much" you tell him.

"Then repeat what you just said" he says

"Why?" You fold your arms over your chest narrowing your eyes at him.

"Why is that a thing you're the most curious about?" He blurts out.

"You're asking like you have some position open for a blow job giver" you joke.

"Like you'd apply for the job" he adds.

You look around people don't give a fuck they're busy minding their own business. You regret saying what you said but yet you let go.

"Have you been to the wedding venue yet?" You ask changing the topic.

"Just checked it out on the internet" he says.

"Wanna go check it out?" You ask.

"I'm kinda tired what about tomorrow?" He offers.

"We've only walked like 500 metres" you chuckle.

"I'm sure it's more than a thousand" he says.

You reach the bus stand from where you can get a bus to your place. He stands beside you.

"You should get a cab. I'll just get on the bus." You tell him. You sense the disappointment in his eyes, but for some reason he doesn't express his desire.

"Okay. If that's what you want" he takes his phone out from his pocket.

You feel foolish waiting for him to turn around and say something. He keeps tapping his foot on the ground, looking at his phone.

The next day arrives after much anticipation. You get late, losing time in doing makeup.

The blood rushes to your cheeks everytime you think about him. You slept last night dreaming about his face, his lips, his delicate features.

You wait on the road for the cab to arrive. Jungkook texts you that he's on his way.

The banquet's in a hotel where the ceremony will take place.

Last night you both had no other options. You don't think each other's homes would've been a great option and there were no motels in sight either. He didn't even bring his car which could've been a compromise you would've made.

Now being in a hotel means you have the opportunity on hand you just have to catch it.

You give him a tour of the place. You have permission to enter the hotel at any time since they all know you are a wedding planner and you're managing an event there in a month.

As soon as he finds you both in a secluded corner he's quick to make the offer.

"You do know what I'm expecting?"

"What? For me to pay for lunch?" You tease him.

"For your curiosity to die" he answers.

"I don't wanna die so young" you tell him.

"Sure can't before you taste cock" you cringe hearing him phrase your words. You know it's just skin and flesh, it can't have it's own taste. It's not like pussy which you've tasted many times but only your ex's. You were drunk, wanted to be suggestive towards him and hence made that up.

"Well I don't have anyone right now whom I'd like to suck off" you tease him more. Kinda like to watch him get desperate.

"Think again" he says. You almost laugh but like how direct he's acting. He has hope evident in his eyes.

"Thought so hard my head hurts" you answer to play a level further than him.

"You're killing me" he says making you walk backwards and hit your back against the wall. Although he keeps his hand behind you so that you don't get hurt.

"No I'm not" you say.

"I'll buy you pretty things" he says. Keeps his hands beside your head.

"I'm weird I don't like pretty things" you joke, enjoy the way he hisses with frustration.

"Then I'll buy you ugly things. Or whatever you like..."

"Excuse me.. I'm not looking for a sugar daddy" you clarify. He sighs. Gets closer.

"I know you want me and you're fighting it. And I want you so bad... you can't even imagine" you hold to him for support as he stands dangerously close to you, staring into your eyes. You pull him a little closer and with the tip of your tongue lick his lower lip. The metal of his lip ring feels cold as your tongue glides over it.

Before he ends up losing all control, he takes your hand and barges into an open room. You raise your eyebrows finding it very questionable what he just did.

"I already booked it" he smirks before he  sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you above his lap.

You sit on him a bit hesitantly knowing he has a growing erection underneath his pants, causing him to act like this.

"Don't act so innocent" he whispers before pulling you closer with his hands on your hips. His hardness presses to your crotch.

You wrap your legs tighter around him.

He tangles his fingers with your hair. You lean closer to him but he doesn't kisses you. You try to get your lips on his but he keeps moving his face, touching his lips and his nose on your cheeks and neck and behind your ears.

"Don't" you whisper.

"Like you didn't" he puts a peck on your lips then pulls back again before you can fully kiss him. You let out a complaining groan and give up on trying to kiss him. He'll do it on his own because you know he wants it too.

"So desperate aren't you..." he presses his lips near yours. "Yet you were giving me such a hard time"

"You were the one denying your very obvious interest in me... and I was kinda nervous because I've never before hooked up with my clients or anyone related" you tell him. He chuckles.

"That's because you help people plan their weddings silly... it would be really problematic if you hook up with someone who's about to get married" you laugh at his words. The vibrations of your laugh travel to him, as both of your chests remain pressed together.

"And if it's not them it's their parents, that's way worse" you both giggle before he tucks your hair behind your ear and finally kisses you.

You hold his head to not let him go and slowly move your tongue into his mouth. He reciprocates your actions with the same passion you show. He gently grazes his teeth over your lip. You squeeze his nape lightly.

His hands travel down your neck and you look down as he unbuttons your shirt. It's brown to go with your black trousers. Your bra is just a cotton one. You washed your only lace one and it didn't dry in time to wear in the morning.

Jungkook cups your breast as he kisses down your cleavage. You fiddle with his buttons too. You really want to see what's underneath. He's insanely beautiful for a man and you feel jealous of his soft, silky hair. You have to carry out a whole ten step haircare routine through out the week to keep your hair frizz free and prevent dryness.

When he kisses you again, you grind yourself against him a little. He moans into your mouth. It's evident how close to the edge he is.

"You know if you want I can help you with that" you say as you feel wetness seep from your own folds as you stay pressed against his hard cock.

"Oh please... please..." he pulls himself away a little. Palms himself before you move his hand away.

You keep your hand on his chest and make him lie down. You have always liked how bouncy hotel mattresses tend to be. He giggles but quiets down as your hand reaches the button of his jeans.

You grip him from above his clothes and he pushes himself up against your hand. You unbutton his jeans after rubbing him for a few seconds.

Slowly you pull down his boxers too. And adore how pretty and thick he is. Your first man in four years and you're glad to grab a nice one. You feel evil to think of him like this but who cares, you both are just here to fool around, have fun.

You had a boyfriend when you were around nineteen to twenty and since then you only dated women. You did go on a couple dates with guys but none of them worked out.

You pull his jeans down his hips around his thighs. His cock is fully hard, the tip shines with precum. You make him lose his shirt too revealing the tattoo sleeve. You had gotten a glimpse of tattoos sneaking up his sleeve but had no idea that he had a whole hand full of them.

"Pretty tattoos" you remark and he smiles grazing his fingers on his arm.

"Tell me about them after you cum" you say making him chuckle.

"For that you have to start somewhere... I'm dying please" he whines.

You're quick to oblige. Your hands wrap around his dick. You give him a few pumps before licking his length.

You keep moving your hands around the base as you suck the top. He let's out muffled moans as you continue.

Somehow you get lost in the way he moans, knowing it's because of you, that you still can make people feel good. You were skeptical of yourself for a while after your ex labelled sex with you at the end of your relationship as average. You had always had a thrilling sex life with your partners, trying new things, new locations, new positions and techniques yet somehow you grew boring to her.

And here a man lay in front of you, groaning and moaning, definitely not faking it, with the way he was twitching and throbbing inside your mouth.

You keep going without thinking much. You find him responding well and if you keep doing it he'll reach climax and that is what you want for him, to get some release. He's been stressed about his cousin's approaching wedding and you assume his work life must be hectic too.

He grabs your hair in his fist trying his best to not hurt you. His grip loosens as you feel a warm liquid fill your mouth. The taste is a mix of things you can't describe with just one word. Before you swallow the first spurt another gets released out from his tip. Your clit throbs so bad, your heart beats so fast, you feel so wet, you just want to pull your pants down and make yourself cum if nobody's gonna do it for you. You feel an ache in your pussy and an urgent need to relieve yourself from it.

Jungkook lies with his head buried in the pillows. When he looks at you there's a shine to his face, his eyes. He has no care for how he came so much that too in your mouth.

"Either you make me cum right now or I'm making myself" you say pushing your trousers down as you lie beside him. You throw your shirt away too.

"Alright do it then..." he says. "Let's see how hard you can make yourself cum" his words sends another chill down your spine.

"Well then" you sit comfortably on the bed. Then part your legs. He watches carefully. You slowly push your panties to the side. Touch your clit and moan as the touch feels heavenly.

But the way that your pussy is all wet and messy and pretty Jungkook can't resist the temptation.

He sits beside you and slowly trails his hand up your thigh. You continue to rub your clit not caring what he thinks. Why would you do it's not like he means anything to you.

He doesn't removes your finger instead pushes his into your hole. "Fuck" you moan as he tries to find the sweet spot.

You increase your pace of stroking your clit.

With his free hand, he pushes the fabric of your bra down to expose your breasts just enough to get access to your nipples. He circles his thumb around the hardened buds.

As his finger continues to circle on your g-spot, he wraps his mouth around your nipple. His tongue circles around. He sucks trying to take in more of your boob into his mouth. You find it hard to maintain your rhythm of clit rubbing.

Yet as you find yourself too close to the climax, you're motivated to keep going. You just know it's going to be very hard. And with your moans and expressions, he finds his motivation too. He presses the tip of his finger against your walls.

You feel an unbearable pressure build inside you. Desperately trying to get relief. He's amazed how fast your hand starts moving. His eyes don't move away from your cunt neither does his finger pressing on your g-spot.

He takes your tit inside his mouth again. Your moans intensify as it finally snaps. Your thighs shake, you see the stars, think you've died for a second. It travels from your head to toe. You remove your hand but he doesn't.

Through the overstimulation he brings to you another unbearable pressure which turns into a wave of pleasure as you lose all control and squirt, shaking uncontrollably. Jungkook pulls his hand away and watches as you rub yourself again and spray more of the liquid soaking the sheets. You keep rubbing yourself and an orgasm combines with it. The control of your body has gone from you to your orgasm.

Jungkook moans watching you as his hand reaches his own cock thats hard again. He starts to pump himself as you catch your breath, your body still shakes.

"You surely enjoyed that" he says.

"Very much" you answer.

"Can we fuck now?" He asks. It's inevitable. You didn't think you'd come this hard in front of him. You look at his cock hard and ready to fuck you senseless.

Your lingering gaze tells him enough. He takes position above you. And before you know his tip is massaging your insides as he thrusts himself again and again.

Your phone starts suddenly ringing and with the surprise he sits up still holding his shaft. You fumble with the objects inside your handbag and take your phone out.

It was the hotel manager telling you they've arranged a special meal for you and your guest. Jungkook rubs himself against your clit and you almost moan yet he doesn't stops instead smirks.

As soon as you cut the call, he starts to fuck you again this time relentlessly. You both struggle to hold for long and come within minutes. He pulls out at the right moment, makes a mess all over your tummy and you clench around nothing as a short quick orgasm washes over you.

It's hard to speak after what you two did. You decided to take turns to shower. Thankfully you had an emergency pair of panties in your handbag which remains there all the time in case you unexpectedly start your period.

It's a rooftop setting where your food was. You had developed an appetite after the things you did that had tired you out immensely. You hadn't expected this at all, you were firm before entering the room that you'll just make out with him but so is life and it's happenings, one thing leads to another.

You sit across the table from Jungkook.

"It got a little crazy I'm sorry. I just lost..." he interrupts you and you wait for him to speak, "It was so fucking good... don't you dare try and deny that" he gives you a serious look and you chuckle.

"It'd been a while since I had fun like that. Sometimes one needs that right?" He nods, mouth stuffed with food. Would've bought you food regardless the hotel offered it or not.

"Bet you can say Si-young did a good job hiring me?" You joke.

He bites his lip before he laughs lowly.

"We're done with bookings now. I talked over a few things with the hotel. Guess I'm gonna see you for the final checks now" you speak in a low tone.

When you think about it you're gonna miss him even though it isn't a long time that you two spent together. There's just something about him that does something to your heart which you don't understand.

"Actually I have to go on a trip abroad and I don't know how long it's gonna take to wrap up the work although I'll be here for the wedding anyhow" he tells you. His voice is low. You know how much he wants to look after preparations firsthand.

"Hey don't worry. I hope you have some sort of trust on me now. I'll work my ass off to make sure your sister has the perfect wedding. And I'll give you updates every fifteen minutes." You say reach his hand that rests on the table.

"I'm counting on you" he says tightly holding your hand.

"You can" you answer.

Over the next few weeks you try to make contact with him but the time difference makes it impossible for you to have a conversation with him in real time. Mostly you send him updates regarding the wedding which is just work for you.

On a lucky day, you catch him online at an ungodly hour. You find out he's drunk. He keeps mentioning the sex you both had. Explains in detail, the things he liked which is almost everything about it. You're surprised he remembers it in such detail.

He sends you a pic of his erect penis says he's thinking about how you came and he hopes you look at it and make yourself come even harder. Everytime you are playing with yourself, you do remember the way his fingers worked and try to replicate it. The orgasms are strong that way and with his image in your mind even more.

You have no idea how you're gonna get him out of your mind. Although it brings you some peace that you're in his mind too.

He was in another country, he could be fucking anyone. It's not like he has to try too hard to get some. Yet he was thinking about you while jerking off. He liked the parts which others found a mess and a pain in the ass.

It was the nicest feeling to have someone accept you, appreciate you, like the way your body is and the way you are.

Much to your disappointment, he could only arrive on the day of the wedding. Hours before the ceremony starts. You had completely forgotten about his arrival, drowned in work as you were.

You were checking the lighting and flowers all around the place when two hands touched your shoulders. You turn around freaked out. Although it could be a friend from the staff trying to tell you to relax.

When you look at him you can't belive that he made it. He hugs you and presses a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much for looking after everything so well" he thanks you but you shake your head.

"I'm getting paid" you say, then whisper "a big sum" you add. Although money hadn't been the only motivation for you to work hard on this project.

"Look at you" he fixes your hair, "What has become of you? You work hard more than you need to" he lightly pats your cheek before he guides you to a room at the back.

"Now show me the dress you're wearing.  Will wank in advance so I don't get too horny if you're gonna look too hot" he says.

"What... there's no dress I'll just be wearing what I'm already wearing" you glance at yourself in the mirror, you put on a shirt with embellishments to look not too plain. You don't get ready for every wedding that you plan.

"Good I bought you one. I just saw this while walking on the street and thought how good this'll look on you" he opens his bag and takes a packet out. He rips it open and gives you the dress.

"And you're still interested in me? The time was enough to fall in love with someone new" you say as if he had ever been in love with you.

"I'm not so easy" he says.

"Tell someone else" you respond with a smug look on your face. He chuckles.

"Now are you gonna change or..." he begins to undo the buttons of your shirt.

You think of taking over for a moment but then let him do it.

You help him pull the shirt down your arms leaving you in your bra. His hand reaches your back and he unhooks your bra.

"Hey..." you hold his hand to stop him.

"What? The dress is padded" you hadn't really noticed even when he was showing you the dress you were just busy looking at him.

Your bra slips off and his hand wraps around your tits. He squeezes them then sucks your nipples one by one, covers your whole chest with small kisses. You feel the wetness growing, you can't get too distracted. You have to go out or everything will fall apart.

His hand goes down your navel and rests between your thighs. Your breath hitches as he presses his fingers against your pussy.

"Oops made you wet. Don't worry will gladly help you with it..." he smirks and you remain numb as he slips his hand inside your panties.

The tip of his middle finger presses against your clit. You whimper.

"I don't have time" you complain.

"Alright" he starts to rub you. Circles his finger around your clit.

You were so wet, so aroused. You started to grind yourself on his hand and suddenly came, your juices gushing, clit throbbing against his finger, thighs shaking, you hold him for support.

"Told ya" he chuckles then pulls his hand away and hands you the dress to wear.

You like the dress, it was complimenting his outfit when you two stand together.

He stands behind you and holds your hand bringing it to his throbbing hardness. You rub your fingers on him a little bit then turn towards him.

"I need to be out there to make sure you can ensure the perfect wedding for your cousin." You touch his cheeks.

"Wait for me here after the reception is over. I'll get here and then I'll make you make up for it" you nod giggling before you leave.

When you left the room, you had no idea this was the last time you were ever going to talk to him.

This was the last time you were ever going to see him.

You did come to the room and wait like he asked but instead of him a girl came.

Said she was just made his fiancé and was supposed to wait for him there like the bride had told her to.

You knew who the girl was. You knew where she sat. She was from a business family too.

In the end, like always you got proved wrong. Money emerged victorious over human emotions or feelings.

You might plan a thousand weddings after that but he will always remain a distinct memory. A mysterious man who won your heart in a way you could never describe.

#jungkook fanfic #jeon jeongguk #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #bts jungkook #jungkook angst

[dpr-stay]

Cupid | LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, reader is a press officer, don't think gender is stated specifically, implied sexual content, second chance romance, she is not edited, zhou guanyu does not crash, and there are swears.

WC: ~7.7k (kill me now)

I literally hate this, im so sorry. I haven't edited it because it's late but I hope it's not bad. I'll edit it tomorrow. also how is it so longgg, it was supposed to be 5k at best. (why have i written two fics about exes having dinner?)

Being Valtteri Bottas’ PR Agent was a wild ride. From being hired by him in his early days at Williams, to his successful years at Mercedes, and now at Alfa Romeo, you’d gotten to know the man through all stages of his career. You’d been there to field off questions about his declining performance at Mercedes and had been the first one to slam open the door and start yelling at him after the ‘cheated-on-his-wife’ rumours started floating around.

However, the paycheck was good and, when he wasn’t causing you to spend many nights in meetings about his public image, you didn’t mind the guy, happy to have to follow him around the world for most of the year.

The whole Formula One thing was also a bonus, you having been hooked on the sport after your Dad introduced it to you at an early age. You’d spent countless hours watching your dad watch the car’s speed by on his tv set, finally deciding to pay attention to the race after a few years. And boy, did you love it. 

You’d spent many an early birthday present forcing your parents to take you to the Grand Prix nearest to you, saving up for months to be able to afford the tickets and the travel. Something about the sport just intrigued pre-teen you, nothing to do with Michael Schumacher at all.

So, when the chance to be a F1 driver’s personal PR agent had landed on your advertisement agency’s desk, the place you had worked in the early days of your career, you had snatched it up quickly. The work started well before the start of the 2013 season, you having to meet the man himself and quickly getting adjusted to the many people you’d need to know to network for the guy. 

You’d also met Maldonado’s PR agent, one from the Williams team, who quickly brought up the ideas of doing interviews and press releases between the two drivers. You were swept into the world of the sport, beginning to get into the swing of things. 

Years passed, as did teammates, and Valtteri got signed to Mercedes alongside Lewis Hamilton. You didn’t know if your employment would carry over to Mercedes, but a team shirt and a letter letting you know about when Valtteri’s responsibilities started being mailed to your house confirmed it pretty quickly.

The atmosphere at Mercedes was more professional, though the team still treated each other as family. You’d often see engineers leaving together, going to go get drunk and celebrate Lewis’ common wins and Valtteri’s less common, but still happening, wins. 

You’d often spend hours at a time bargaining for spots for Valtteri in interviews and in PR related spots, and it worked. He was a well-known man, your job was practically done. The bosses were (finally) appeased, Valtteri was happy, and you could finally relax after years straight of stressing about social media and whatever the hell a vine was and if that was still relevant.

And then you’d gone and got yourself trapped in an elevator with Lewis Hamilton. 

Being a Mercedes employee, though only temporary, you’d met Lewis often during interviews and team meetings. However, you never really know a person until you spend five hours sitting opposite each other in a broken-down elevator, only being able to see each other by the light of your phone's flashlight, waiting for some sort of help as there was no signal.

Your conversation had started off hesitantly, you incredibly intimidated by the several-time world champion and him having a fleeting idea of who you were. The conversation had eventually fizzled out till the lift jolted, and a creaking sound echoed into the cavern of the contraption.

Your telling groan that you couldn’t hold back elicited a concerned “You alright?” from Lewis and then you eventually had to tell the professional F1 driver, who raced cars at over 200km/h every other weekend, about your fear of small spaces.

He hadn’t judged you for it, something which you thought was rather nice, and had even tried to adjust for you, moving to the very other side of the small box. Granted, your feet still touched, but you thought the sentiment was nice. 

He was more down to earth than you expected, you knew he wasn’t a prick but you weren’t expecting him to be… kind. Soon enough, after a few more questions about why you were afraid of small spaces and other questions, you both had spiraled into boundless conversation. 

You had talked about things you’d never talked about with someone, let alone a practical stranger, his soothing accent making it easier to open up to him. Things like the future and where it would take you, uncertainties about both your careers, even relationships, the type of conversations you only have trapped in a suspended metal box in the dark. 

Lewis was a fantastic person to talk to. He’d listen when he needed to and returned your conversation with equal energy, as though he actually wanted to be part of the conversation. For some reason he had decided to trust you and had talked freely to you, showing you a side that you doubted many people had seen.

Maybe it was the fact he couldn’t see your face or maybe you just gave off a trustworthy vibe. You didn’t know. All you knew was that, all of a sudden, you were one of Lewis Hamilton’s most trusted confidants. 

Even after someone had finally realised you were missing and exactly where you were, calling more firemen than necessary to bust open the lift though you supposed that’s what you were supposed to do when a ‘Sir’ was trapped in an elevator, Lewis had asked for your phone number and had continued to text you.

You’d met up a few times over the season, quickly becoming incredibly close friends who told each other everything. You’d had to deal with a few teases from Valtteri, who’d shut up when you reminded him who controlled the public’s opinion of him. 

During the off-season Lewis had invited you to come to his house for dinner. You’d went, it was lovely, and then you’d unknowingly experienced the moment of truth in your weird friendship/developing relationship. 

You’d been sitting at Lewis’s dinner table, eagerly chatting to the man about your family, leaning in closer and closer until the both of you were nearly leaning over the table. He’d cooked for you, an act you found incredibly sweet for the multi-millionaire who probably had ten private chefs on speed-dial, and you’d spent the evening wining and dining. 

You had both finished your main courses, talking about everything and anything when a loud bang had come from the upstairs of the man’s house. He glossed right over it, ignoring the loud sound. You had been about to comment on it but, at his nonchalance, you deigned not to. 

The conversation had continued, you both moving from his table to the couch he owned, which probably cost more than your salary earned you, when another loud sound, which sounded suspiciously like a bark, reverberated through his open-plan house. 

He sighed loudly at your questioning look, deciding that he couldn’t ignore it this time. He opened his mouth to speak but, before he could utter a syllable, the tapping of claws sounded against the stairs located, conveniently, in view of his living room. 

You looked up and there stood one of the largest Bulldogs you had ever seen. It was almost majestic, the way that he stood there on the steps, panting as though he’d just run a race. His brown coat was shining in the twilight glow, his muzzle a white colour in comparison to the rest of his body.

He took a few steps down the stairs, tripping on one before regaining his posture. You could only watch in wonder, mouth agape, as the beautiful beast padded down the steps and took a turn, approaching you head on.

The dog was a thing of beauty, his droopy face conveying no discernable emotion except from being tired. He slowly made his way to the couch, you doing nothing but watching as he trotted along the hardwood floors. You didn’t catch Lewis staring at you warily as you were only focused on the thing that younger you would’ve fought a clan of savage chipmunks in order to have.

The dog eventually made his way in front of you, plopping his behind down on the carpet and staring up at you questioningly. You didn’t know what emotion your face was conveying, you only knew it was very silent.

You cautiously reached a hand down to rub between his ears. After a second of your rubbing he made a gruff ‘woof’ sound and you couldn’t help it, an entranced whine releasing from your throat. Collapsing onto the floor beside the dog, you forgot about Lewis, focusing completely on the magnificent specimen of a dog. 

Roscoe, as you’d soon come to know via a fond Lewis, took to you as soon as you took to him. Within a minute the dog was letting you handle him as much as you’d like, rolling over on his back to let you get his stomach and vigorously licking your arm as you pet him. Praises spilled from your lips abound, making sure to let the bulldog know just how much of a good boy he was.

At a cough you turned from your spot on the floor to face Lewis, the radiant grin he had on his face making you feel as though you’d passed a test of sorts. Roscoe also turned to look at Lewis before turning back to you and huffing. 

He moved forward, stepping on your legs, trying to sit on you, before falling off the slope onto the carpet. You then picked him up and cuddled him, trying to keep eye-contact with Lewis as you did so. Lewis’ eyes had turned into half moons as he watched you love on his dog, his smile consuming his face.

“I’m glad he likes you, I don’t know what I would’ve done if he didn’t.” He admitted, placing his drink on a wooden table that stood beside the couch. He then slowly slid from the couch onto the floor beside you, leaning his body down till he was face-to-face with Roscoe and gave the dog a kiss.

“He’s got good taste.” You commented and Lewis released a laugh, glancing up at you.

“Me or the dog?” He asked after a second and you paused, overdramatically placing a finger on your chin and tilting your head as though you were thinking. You then shrugged and he laughed again, you not missing the incredibly familiar twinkle in his eye as he looked at you.

After that, you’d found that Lewis was a lot more eager to meet at his house. Roscoe, accompanied by the sheepish man, was bowling you over nearly every time the door was opened to you. Lewis had also made the trip to your house, though you doubted he’d seen a house as small as yours within the last ten years. He seemed to like it though, settling in quickly and even staying there when you were at work. The off-season had continued like that, casually building your relationship between his training and your many meetings with Alfa Romeo, trying to settle the discussions about your contract after Valtteri’s move.

You’d finally gotten somewhere just before the season started after having to plead to not be replaced by an inside hire, Valtteri backing you up and stating he wouldn’t race without you. Alfa Romeo had accepted and then you finally had the contract you’d wanted. 

You’d left the meeting, Valtteri in tow, before turning around and hugging the man for having your back before you both said goodbye and made your way home and to the gym respectively.

The uber ride you’d hired was peaceful, the man staring straight ahead as you looked out the window, your small apartment building coming into your view. You smiled as you saw it, thinking of the Lewis you’d left in bed that morning, having to pull yourself out before him to go to your meeting. 

The climb up the steps (the elevator didn’t work which Lewis hadn’t complained about when you’d explained it in embarrassment) had seemed to take forever no matter how fast you climbed. When you’d finally made it to your floor, you had to practically drag yourself across the hallway to your door, unlocking it with force after the lock had gotten stuck.

Immediately you could tell something was off, the place seemed colder than that morning and it didn;t have to do with the fact the thermostat had broken a few months ago. All the lights were off and there was no noise coming from within, a telltale sign that Lewis was somewhere within whether he was listening to music or talking to someone. 

That was ok, though, he might’ve been at a meeting like the one you’d had, though you doubted there would be less than 7 zero’s on his contract. But that’s the difference between a big team and Alfa Romeo, you work with what you get.

You looked to the side table, placing your keys in the bowl, noticing the absence of Lewis’ keys. But that made sense if he was at a training session or a meeting, so you continued into the apartment, losing components of your outerwear as you went. 

You’d lost your scarf and blazer as you’d made your way to your bedroom, prepared to change from your business outfit into one of Lewis’ many shirts when you opened your closet. A quick rummage and you couldn’t find any. Weird.

You checked again before moving to another part of your closet and noting the lack of his hoodies or jumpers, which was even weirder as you’d stolen a few of them last week. You turned and moved to your dresser, an old antique wooden piece you’d picked up from an op-shop a few years ago after seeing it and falling in love.

You’d opened your drawer specifically for pajamas and found everything you’d acquired through your time of living independently but Lewis’ shirts. Moving to the many drawers Lewis used specifically when he’d stay over, a small inkling of panic settled in your stomach however you ignored it and opened the drawer.

Nothing. There was nothing left in the drawer. You quickly opened all his other drawers, almost pulling them out of the dresser with the force you were applying. All of them were empty. This caused the inkling to grow to an uneasy pool. Maybe he’d taken them to wash them at his place?

You stepped back from the dressers, incredibly confused and vehemently denying the growing panic in you. You walked, not ran, into your bathroom. The lonely toothbrush sitting on the counter sent a strange feeling, almost like adrenaline, rushing through you. Opening the cupboards under the counter you noted the loss of his extra face wipes and the moisturizers he insisted on using. 

You ran to your kitchen, not seeing anything off, before slamming into the back of the couch in your open plan apartment in your haste to get into the living room. The action caused pain to ring through your shins but you barely registered it, the missing cd’s that normally sat on the table your tv was balancing on that he had insisted were better than Spotify the only thing you were focused on. 

A quick look down the hallway to the door of your apartment only furthered your dread, noticing details you hadn’t seen before. The missing stack of shoes that he normally toed-off at the door and the missing extra wallet he left on the side table in case someone broke in almost confirmed your fears.

But what really set in the fact that he’d packed up and left was the missing leash that normally hung from a hook you’d installed specifically on the back of your front door. The inscribed ‘Roscoe’ on the hook seemed almost mocking from your place on the couch, but you couldn’t really acknowledge it, the tears filling your eyes blurring your vision.

You stood up from the couch and stormed back into the bedroom, slamming the open drawers shut, not hearing the splintering of the vintage wood. You picked up your phone from your bed that you’d tossed earlier in your haste to become relaxed, and opened your messages.

He hadn’t sent anything to you explaining his leaving and when you went to send a text (‘??? Where are you’) the message that you’d been blocked popped up at the bottom of the screen. You could only stare at the screen for a second, the implications of what he’d done sending emotional shockwaves through you. 

You barked out a sardonic laugh, your hand flopping from its position in front of you to be held uselessly at your side, your phone slipping from your grasp onto the floor. The world went still for a moment before you lifted a hand to cover your vision, the tears slipping from your eyes wetting your hand.

You sat alone on your bed that had, not even 24 hours ago, contained what you had thought was your future. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry at this point, the grief for something that was evidently never meant to be controlling your thoughts. A long deep sigh left you before it was interrupted by a sob. And then another sob.

You ended up falling asleep alone that night, still dressed in the smart pants and white shirt you’d worn to your meeting. Your only lullaby was your sobbing, not the sound of his gentle humming, something which you kept reminding yourself of. 

Valtteri had commented that you’d seemed sad the next time he’d seen you but neither of you had addressed it past that, him knowing when to keep his mouth shut. He especially knew to shut up after the intense glare you had fixed him. 

The season had started again and, while you were prepared for your duties as a PR agent, Valtteri’s full calendar being proof enough for that, you weren’t sure you were prepared to see Lewis again. Especially after the news that he was already seeing someone else had come out a week before the first race.

You’d returned Valtteri’s knowing glance with as much strength as you could muster and promptly ignored his further pitying look, choosing to feel sorry for yourself at home that night. You’d also ignored his attempts to try to get you to talk to Tiffany, you liked the woman but you didn’t think you should burden her with your ridiculous, because that’s what it was looking back, delusions that you could’ve been something more than just a summer fling to Lewis Hamilton.

You’d successfully managed to avoid Lewis the whole first couple of races, eventually beginning to see fleeting glances of him throughout the paddock. Seeing him for the first time with his partner had hurt but, looking at her, you couldn’t exactly blame him.

She was gorgeous and, after you’d done a bit of searching, was exactly his previous type. She was wealthy and had a respectable job, someone worthy of being with him. You’d made sure to avoid him after that.

You kept on at work though, determined to be the best goddamn PR Agent Alfa Romeo had ever seen. And you were succeeding. Valtteri was getting brand deals and after more positive press around him and his dedication to the sport regardless of his company, you were finally able to relax. 

And by relaxing, you meant getting wasted at a bar. In fairness, last time you’d relaxed you’d ended up more broken hearted than you’d ever been, so releasing some steam at a bar had seemed an appropriate route.

And it was, being able to drink away your sorrows and spill your guts out to a bartender in a small rundown pub in the middle of Canada was the perfect way to unwind. You hadn’t told the whole story of course, you resented the guy for what he did to you but you didn’t want to tarnish his reputation, but it was nice to tell it to some random person who probably didn’t even understand the way you were switching between Swedish, English, and Finnish. 

You’d woken up the next morning with a heavy weight off your shoulders and a nice Canadian man in your hotel bed, sending him off with a promise to call before promptly adding his phone number to your phone. Valtteri could tell something had changed when you’d walked into his driver’s room the next day, prepared to tell him about his schedule. You greeted his questioning look with a smirk and he shook his head, a disbelieving look on his face.

You’d found that you hadn’t thought about Lewis the whole day, when you’d settled into your hotel bed the night after the race. A warm feeling had spread through you at that, the knowledge that the man no longer consumed your thoughts making you feel good inside.

The next race weekend you were ready to go, the British GP making you pumped. You weren’t so pumped when Valtteri DNF’ed and were mentally preparing answers for the Finn as the race continued, briefing him on every response you could think of in relation to the gearbox issue. Zhou Guanyu did well in his race though, so the garage was quite excited for him, even though Valtteri hadn’t finished.

When the interviews had rolled around after all of the celebrations, you were following Valtteri on the walk to his first interview, eventually stopping to the side of him as a mic was held in front of him and the cameras had started rolling. 

Typical questions such as if he was happy for his teammate and if he was happy with the car were asked, some weirder questions such as if he thought the car’s not-working had to do with some obscure political issue before eventually the interview was wrapped up and the Finn moved on to his next interview, you following him.

You could see other drivers beginning to arrive in the area, being interviewed before you quickly looked away, not wanting to see if he was close. You’d managed to avoid him thus far today, how hard could a few more hours be?

You’d thought that before you heard the faint but tell-tale bark of Roscoe and you had to force yourself not to turn around and run to the dog. Lewis had mentioned bringing the dog to his home race at some point while you were together, so you weren’t exactly surprised at Roscoe’s presence. 

Valtteri’s interview was continuing in the background of your mind as you thought over the nights you’d spent cuddled with Roscoe and Lewis. Did you miss him or Lewis more? Did Lewis even miss you?

Valtteri nudged you in the side, his eyes wide and you snapped back to reality, staring at the interviewer.

“Pardon?” You asked, politely trying to make it seem as though you just hadn’t heard them and were paying attention.

“I just asked if Valtteri preferred Mercedes or Alfa Romeo.” The interviewer filled in and you turned to Valtteri, a questioning look on your face. Surely he could handle that question? He vehemently shook his head. Alrighty then.

You brought out both your hands in front of you, prepared to gesture out an answer for Valtteri to say. But before you could a large force had pounded into your back, knocking you to the floor and landing on top of you. The weight was heavy but it was warm and… was it licking you? “Roscoe! Oh my god, I am so sorry!” A voice came from behind you.

Oh no.

While you had been mentally preparing an answer for Valtteri, Lewis had been walking around the media area, Roscoe in tow on a leash. The dog had been restless ever since he’d entered the pen, Lewis echoing that sentiment as he saw a brief glimpse of you. He wanted nothing more than to run to you but he couldn’t with media responsibilities weighing him down.

Eventually the interviewer’s fill of Roscoe was full and he was able to do a little bit of wandering around the area. Lewis had handed the leash of the now-agitated Roscoe to Angela as he went to go answer some more questions, the press incredibly curious about the dynamics of the car.

Angela, bless her soul, had tried her best to wrangle the dog, but his continuous pulling and barking was beginning to annoy some of the media. Seeing this, Angela had decided to just let the dog pull her away, Roscoe almost dragging her as he went. 

He had pulled her almost completely across the room before he got too violent and managed to rip the leash from her hands, leaving Angela stumbling in the dust as he began to run. Lewis had watched this happen, and continued to watch in horror as Roscoe ran up behind you.

One gigantic leap and you were pushed to the floor, the big bulldog nuzzling into your neck. The world seemed to almost go quiet before Angela ran over, trying to grab the collar of the rabid dog, asking if you were ok.

Lewis had started to move over, dismissing the reporter who he was talking to as he made his way to his dog and his ex-lover. He saw you roll over on the floor, a small sad smile on your face as the dog began slobbering over you. A few more steps and he was in front of you, scolding Roscoe and apologising as he effortlessly grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him back.

You tried not to look in his eyes, knowing all your effort of trying to get over him would be null if you saw his face. You ignored the hand he extended, instead smoothing down your clothes as you sat on the floor, only pulling yourself up when he awkwardly lowered his hand, framing it as if you just didn’t see.

He knew though, he’d developed the unfortunate skill of reading you.

You didn’t look at him as you assured him you were fine and that he should continue with his interviews, only sparing a glance at Angela who looked at you with a regretful hint in her eyes. You didn’t want to think about that more than you had to, waving them off to more interviews. 

You turned around before you could see Lewis leave, thankfully not seeing the longing he had displayed over his face as he turned away, back to his interviews. 

Would you have been able to hold it together if you’d seen the look he’d shot you? No. Were you when you watched it back after the weekend? Also no.

You turned back to Valtteri, cracking a quick joke, before he got back to his interviews. You spent the rest of that day picking gravel out of your palms, trying to forget about the whole interaction. You wouldn’t let this break your progress, the handsome Canadian man in your contacts getting a ring that night as you tried to distract yourself.

After a few days of you cursing Roscoe for trying to see you while also feeling as though you should arrange some sort of custody agreement so you could see the beautiful beast, a notification had popped up on your phone. It was a recommended tweet, a news article about how Lewis had apparently split from his “new fling”. 

That sent you spiraling, questioning why on earth the algorithm had thought to show you this and wondering what you’d done wrong in your past life in order for this to be what was happening to you.

You’d only become more confused a day later, when Angela had sent you an email, saying that Lewis would like to meet up and apologise because of the media backlash. The thing was you’d seen no media backlash, people just finding the dog's enthusiasm funny. 

If there was any sort of trouble, you’d have seen it, it was your job after all, so you were left sitting on your couch, pondering what was the point of the meeting she was trying to set up.

You’d aired the email for a few days, wondering what you should do. You wanted to say yes, to talk to Lewis again and ask him what had happened, but you didn’t want to get hurt again. And you knew you’d be hurt when you saw him doing perfectly fine without you.

The fact that Angela was waiting for you to respond didn’t cross your mind till you received a text from an unknown number, politely asking you to respond. The older woman had waited till she knew you’d read the text, about five minutes, before sending a more desperate text. That had your eyebrows raising unwillingly, confused about why she had sent three “please”’s in one paragraph.

Regardless you fell victim to knowing how hard it was to try and manage a driver's personal and professional commitments and said yes. Only because you felt bad for Angela was what you kept telling yourself.

Eventually the day had come and you were dreading it, lying on your couch until the last second possible. The thought of canceling had popped through your head multiple times but it was too late now. The only way you could back out is if an emergency happened or you died on the way to the private restaurant Angela had insisted on booking, saying that even though the meeting was supposed to be platonic, it shouldn’t be aired to the public.

A deep sigh left you as you pulled yourself up and walked to your bedroom, dressing yourself in business clothes. You wanted to put effort in, but knowing that you’d definitely be embarrassed if you showed up glammed out and he showed up in a shirt and jeans, you decided against it. It was a business dinner anyway, simply to smooth over a wrong that had been committed against you. 

But it wasn’t a wrong, it was Roscoe pushing you over, which could hardly be considered a wrong and was more the dog testing the things he could get away with.

The real wrong was what Lewis had done to you. You hoped that you could get through the ordeal without talking about it, showing up and then posting a picture to Lewis’s instagram or something about how it was all good to appease the critics.

Except there were no critics, it was just Lewis wanting to have dinner with you. Or maybe it was just Angela trying to meddle. Maybe he was going to try to apologise for him ghosting you? You didn’t know if you would accept it.

You might’ve been able to accept it if he’d been honest from the start, telling you that he wouldn’t want you past the end of the break so you could quickly shut down the relationship before it started and move on with your life.

A thought that’d you always try to flush from your mind sprung to the front of it as you wondered. Maybe you were being too harsh. You’d never explicitly expressed what you were, maybe you had just been overthinking it the whole time you were together. Or rather, not together. 

But that would’ve been unfair to you anyways, you reassured yourself. Him letting you get a taste of his future before exempting you from it was a cruel thing to do to anyone.

A ring from your phone let you know that you should’ve been out the door at this point. You quickly cursed before grabbing your essentials and running to your entryway, pulling your shoes on, before grabbing your keys from the side table. 

After locking your door, you ran down the stairs to your apartment building and hailed a taxi. Luckily traffic wasn’t too bad, so you were able to arrive at the restaurant on time, quickly hurrying inside and getting led to your table.

You never had to worry about being late though, as Lewis wasn’t there when you got to the private booth. It was fine, he came from the other side of town so he’d probably only be a few minutes late.

It was about twenty minutes later you’d sighed and decided to ring Angela. Ironically, she didn’t pick up. You couldn’t help the bark of a laugh that left your throat, shaking your head at the sad reality of your situation.

Ghosted by two members of Mercedes. Maybe it was a good idea for Valtteri to move when he had, otherwise they may have just stopped picking up the phone. You gave him ten more minutes before trying Angela again. The same response. 

At this point you were sick of being made the fool of. Perhaps it was your fault for believing your dispute could be resolved, your fault for believing you were worth showing up for. You stood up with a pressure at the back of your eyes and began the walk from the private booth all the way at the back of the swanky restaurant to the exit.

Before you got even five meters from your table, the door to the restaurant slammed open. Everyone turned to stare at the heavily breathing world champion as he took a second to recoup himself. He didn’t let himself look at anyone in the restaurant as he straightened his suit and turned to the host, who looked a little shell shocked. A quick exchange later and the host stepped back from the little podium he was stood behind. 

You quickly scampered back to your seat, making it just in time and plastering an unimpressed look over your face. Looking back up, you could see Lewis scanning all the patrons of the premises before his eyes paused and locked onto you. 

The simple action of making eye-contact, a luxury which you had refused yourself during your bump with Roscoe, sent a lick of emotion down your spine. You couldn’t exactly read his face, you didn’t know what he was choosing to display or doing unwittingly after being played by him for months, but you believed he was relieved. 

When he arrived at the table he waved off the host with a small ‘thanks’ before sitting down in the seat opposite to you. It was silent for a few seconds, you both continuing eye contact. You were trying to find anything you could recognise in his eyes while he was just looking at you, at your face. 

“I’m sorry for being so late.” He spoke finally, a slight tilt growing at the corners of his lips. You didn’t respond and the awkwardness won him over after a few more seconds, something that was quite uncharacteristic of him. He coughed.

“The lift wouldn’t work, I’d left my keys, then no one would pull over. I tried to call you but my phone died, so I just ran trying to get here.” He said and averted his eyes, a mannerism you’d recognised as a nervous tick the couple of times you’d seen it. You didn’t know how to reply so you let your emotions take hold.

“Your call wouldn’t have gone through.” You said blankly and he looked back to you, before chuckling awkwardly. You didn’t find it funny.

“You would’ve had to unblock me first.” You needlessly elaborated, getting some sadistic enjoyment out of the way the man squirmed. He continued his awkward laughing, you joining in to laugh sardonically.

You didn’t know where this feeling, of needing him to a sliver of the uncomfortableness he’d caused you, had come from. The feeling you got from his discomfort wasn’t pleasure though, it felt empty as though it was pointless in the long run. You supposed it was, he wouldn’t remember you in a few years and your small petty actions wouldn’t even matter when he married the princess of some country. 

He cleared his throat, drawing your attention from your musings to his face.

“I wanted to apologise.” He stated bluntly and you raised an eyebrow. Yeah, no shit. He caught your expression and winced. 

“I should’ve had Roscoe on a tighter leash and not have given him to Angela. It was my fault-” You tuned him out as he continued, shaking your head in disbelief. Yeah sure, it was why the meeting had been arranged, but you’d genuinely thought he might’ve talked about the elephant in the room at some point. Maybe you were judging harshly though. Maybe after a few minutes he’d start talking about the model he’d piped the other day or the Albanian billionaire who wanted to be his sugar mommy.

You’d forgotten that he could read you like a book and had stopped when he realised you were no longer paying attention. He reached over the table to wave a hand in front of your eyes, an action that was very rude, and you reacted accordingly. You turned to face him, affronted, and he smiled at your expression before his face turned serious and he breathed a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about what had happened.” He said finally, staring down at the table, and you scoffed, crossing your arms in front of your buttons. You started to talk, the words leaving your mouth before you could properly think about them, hurt blurring your thoughts.

“Of course I would love to recount the time I came home and I found my place ransacked.” You said, the fakeness of your enthusiasm leaking into your words causing him to flinch.

“I’d love to talk about the messages I sent you before I realised I’d been blocked. Sure, let’s talk about how, not even two weeks after telling me you thought we’d have a future together, you’d completely left me, without a word of discussion.” You finally let out, almost strangling your throat closed so as to not let more of the hurt out. This was a work-related dinner after all and you didn’t want to draw more attention than Lewis already had.

His face had fallen, an incredibly unfamiliar look coating his face and you tried to stop yourself before you spoke, trying to tame the biting uncertainties in your head.

“Was it because I’d moved companies?” You questioned and he looked up. “Should I not have followed Valtteri?” Your question floated in the air and he shook his head, a sorrowful expression taking over his face.

“Then why?” You asked after a second and he paused, not responding. You, tired of his silence, thought about all the reasons you’d gone over in your head, and settled on the one that made the most sense to you. Looking back, it was probably the most unrealistic, but it made sense to the angry and sad mindset you had.

“Was it because I couldn’t afford everything?” His head snapped up, shock colouring his features. “I could’ve moved to a new apartment if it bothered you, having to stay over at my place. I knew you didn’t do a lot of things that break because I couldn’t pay, but you could’ve told me if you wanted to. I do have a savings account I could’ve dipped into.” You said quietly, looking down at the table, all the fight having been sapped from your body. 

You were tired. You didn’t know what the time difference was between you and Canada, but you were sure that you could set an alarm and wake up to spill your guts to the stranger, it was better than telling anyone you knew. 

Lewis called your name but you didn’t look up from the table, hoping to not see any form of confirmation in his eyes. He reached a hand over the table, this time to not be rude but to lift your chin up and look in your eyes. He contemplated for a second before speaking softly.

“I thought it was what you wanted.” He said and you reared back, completely shocked before he continued.

“You kept going to meetings with Alfa Romeo and I thought it was your subtle way of telling me to fuck off. You know, that you had more important things to worry about than a driver from your old company. We’d never talked about what we were and I just thought…” He paused for a second here, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked at the wall before looking back into your eyes.

“I thought I could bite the bullet, leave before you could tell me to go. And it worked in the end, you’ve been doing exceptionally well. I haven’t seen a bad story about Valtteri in months.” He said and withdrew his hand as he leaned back against the chair behind him.  You processed his words for a moment before he cleared his throat, drawing you back to look at him.

“I would never, by the way.” He disclosed quietly and you tilted your head. He continued. “I don’t mind if you have the money or not, for that break your apartment was the best place for me.” 

The use of the present tense threw you off for a second, leaving you to rearrange yourself in your seat and clear your throat as you thought of a response. You couldn’t, opening your mouth but no words coming out. He’d stunned you into silence. You finally found your voice after steeling yourself for a second. “W-what about umm… what was her name?” You asked, a stutter permeating your words. He just sighed, letting his head fall slack to stare at the table. 

“It was a mistake.” He said quietly, and guilt for the poor girl rushed through you. “I thought that after I’d let you go I should at least try to find something as a replacement.” He looked up at you.

“I couldn’t though, no one could match to you. But I couldn’t leave her without a reason.” 

He leaned further back in his seat, his voice terse as he spoke. “She gave me plenty of reason after I caught her in bed with her ex.” You winced at the tone of his voice and gave him a second to collect his thoughts. Even if he was trying to break it off, it’s never a good feeling to be cheated on. 

You spoke up after a second, trying to clear the silence between you and deciding he should know about your fling after you’d ended if this dinner was going to way you thought it was.

“I met a man in Canada.” You said hesitantly and you saw his shoulders drop.

“Oh.” He said quietly, before shaking himself out as if he was a cat and plastering a smile on his face. Lewis made eye-contact and asked you a question.

“What’s his name?” Fake-enthusiasm permeated his question, as though he was trying to hide his disappointment. 

You didn’t want to address that, though you knew you had to. Could you take him back? You didn’t know for sure if he would leave you again, which scared you. The whole idea of taking him back scared you, though the thought of more time with him that wasn’t spent trying to avoid looking his way made you hopeful. You tried not to feel that way, knowing that you shouldn’t base your happiness on the man.

But he had apologised and explained his reasoning. As much as you wanted to curse him out for not talking with you, it did make sense. Feelings of inadequacy were present in every person, no matter how remarkable they were.

Look at you, already being hypocritical over your own words. You’d said you didn’t know if you’d take him back, but now you were already planning it. Was that pathetic? You didn’t like to think it was, but maybe you were wrong, ignoring your dignity in favour of the man.

God, if only the world was more simple and less complicated. If only you hadn’t gotten locked in an elevator, if only Roscoe hadn’t been as adorable as he was, if only you’d said no to this dinner. If only you’d just talked about your feelings from the start instead, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Too late now though, you supposed, snapping back to the present and leveling eye-contact with Lewis. You contemplated your words, knowing they’d probably either be the start or the end of your time with him.

“I don’t remember.” You said finally, staring at Lewis’ face as a smile that he tried to contain spread over it.

“You don’t remember his name?” He asked, almost trying to confirm his words and you shook your head. He couldn’t control his smile, trying to mask it behind a cough. You only started to grin in response, looking into his eyes as they slowly turned back into half-moons.

A cleared-throat startled you both out of your bubble and you turned to the waiter, who looked as if he had just watched a soap opera play out in front of him. He awkwardly held out menus to the both of you and you quickly accepted them, apologising for making him stand awkwardly for so long.

When he’d left you both had looked at each other and exchanged smiles. The dinner had continued and it was as lovely as Lewis himself. That is to say, very lovely. 

After paying and making the walk to Lewis’ house, you both stumbled into Lewis’ abode, not able to keep your hands off of each other. However a large obstacle had stopped you from taking it further, namely the heavy weight of the british bulldog that decided to settle himself on top of you the second you’d walked through the door.

You could barely hear Lewis’s laughter over the sound of Roscoe licking the side of your face, you muffling your own laughter into the carpet. 

When you’d next seen Valtteri, he’d only taken one glance at your neck before shooting you a smirk, the knowing glance he had on his face making you roll your eyes as you pushed him to his interviews.

i got stuck halfway through but i just wanted it overrrr. Hopefully it's not too bad, let me know in the comments.

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 oneshot #formula one imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton reaction #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton x y/n #formula one x you #formula one fanfiction #formula one x y/n #formula one fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #did i overdo it on the tags? maybe :)

[holllandtrash]

chasing fate | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x hamilton!reader

after months of lingering looks and shy smiles, all the two of you need is a little push in the right direction, but when that direction ends up being in circles, you start to wonder if there's even an end in sight

word count: 5k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, literally so pure and innocent

To put it simply, Lance Stroll was an introvert. 

He loved his career, he loved the people on his team, but when the weekend ended he wanted nothing more than to go back to Montreal and hide away in the comfort of his house until he had to fly to the next country.

The worst was when there was no break in between races. When he had to fly from one race location to another, Lance struggled to hold in his complaints. 

Oftentimes during the race weekend, he sought out places where he could find temporary comfort. Away from the crowds, away from the team sporting the matching Aston Martin colours. He just needed to breathe and he couldn’t do that with someone at his side. He couldn’t do that if he was called away for media or autographs. He couldn’t do that if he had to sit through yet another pointless meeting.

He lucked out in Monza, finding a spot early Thursday morning. Somewhere behind the motorhomes, a route that emergency vehicles would take so it wasn’t accessible to the public. 

There was a bench, even somewhere for him to put his feet up. Absolutely perfect, he thought. 

He sat there in between media sessions on Thursday, taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

He didn’t have anxiety, he just got overwhelmed easily. 

All he wanted to do was race, he wished he could do that without the fifty thousand other agreements he never thought would become more and more unbearable as the races continued, as the years went on. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier the longer he did this? Why was he always counting down the minutes until he could just go home, or at least go back to the hotel?

Lance waited a minute or two more before standing up from the bench. He avoided the puddle that was near his feet and looked up at the sky. The clouds were a light grey, but no rain was supposed to be expected for the rest of the weekend, hopefully.

He was still looking up as he walked around the motorhome, thinking about how bad a storm would have to be for a race to be cancelled.

And you were looking down at your phone as you walked down that same dirt path, not caring about how the mud was going to stain the sides of your shoes because if you were being honest, you hated that you had to look your best during these weekends.

You hated that Lewis had turned the paddock into his own personal fashion show because the days you showed up with him, people expected you to also make some sort of statement or rep some expensive brand with your outfit. After all, you were the younger sister of 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton, and your association came with upholding his image.

But god you were tired of it sometimes. You loved watching the races, but you could do without being asked what you thought about your brother's career, how you felt his battle was going, if he was going to retire soon. 

You didn’t care, truly. 

Lewis knew what he was doing, all you wanted to do was watch and support and not be sucked into whatever drama was circling his life that week.

That's how you found yourself looking for a seclusive spot to just get away from it all. 

When you bumped into Lance, you were both taken off guard. You hand went to his chest, his hand went to your arm to keep you both steady.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” You started to say, the same time Lance said “I didn’t see-”

You closed your mouth, dropping your hand to your side as he took a step back. The synchronised apologies didn’t need to be finished, it was clear you both weren’t looking where you were going. 

“Is this your hideout?” You asked, a faint smile on your face when you saw the bench and the black boxes he had turned upside down to rest his feet on. 

Lance looked behind him, inhaling a quiet breath before he smiled too, “Yeah, but I don’t mind sharing it if you’re in need of one.”

“How generous,” you teased. 

Lance moved to step around you and had you kept walking towards the bench, you would have missed the way his smile dropped when he spotted the crowd of people on the other side of the motorhome. 

But you caught it. 

You didn’t say anything, but you felt bad for him, knowing that he had it so much worse being an actual driver. There was the stress of delivering and getting points every weekend on top of what he had to face when he stepped out of the car.

At least you got to go home after this and not think about Formula 1 until you decided to attend another race. This was Lance’s life.

And you liked Lance. You didn’t speak as often as you would have liked, but he was always very polite to you when you were in the paddock. Whereas most of the drivers kept to themselves and their teams if they were heading somewhere, Lance would send you a smile if he recognised you.

You knew he was shy, which is why you were always a little surprised if he did go out of his way to talk to you. Again, it wasn’t often, just a simple ‘How are you?’ or ‘It’s nice to see you’. 

You liked his faint lisp as he spoke, you liked his Canadian accent, it made chatting with him more amusing for you. You were sick of the French and the British, you liked that when Lance spoke, there was always a sense of optimism to his words, even if he didn’t intend for it.

But most of all, you liked that despite being the son of Lawrence Stroll, despite having a paid seat, he fought hard. He worked his ass off every weekend to earn points for the team, he put effort in that not many other paid drivers would. He loved this sport, he loved racing, and you could see that even when you sat at home and watched the race from the comfort of your living room.

His effort in F1 seemed to go unnoticed a lot of the time. He had Seb as a teammate the last few years and now he was with Fernando. Two very prominent names and yes, two incredible drivers that helped him out immensely, but the attention always went to them.

So yeah, you felt bad for him.

You couldn’t relate to the driving aspect, but you understood what it was like being in someone's shadow. Something that you never once blamed Lewis for, just like you knew Lance would never blame Seb or Fernando. 

It was just the cards you had been dealt, it was the fate you found yourself accepting.

You didn’t think twice before cupping your hand around your lips, calling out to Lance, “Hey!”

He turned right before reaching the paddock, eyebrows raised, but when your mouth curved into a warm smile, he reciprocated it before you even said anything else. 

“Good luck this weekend,” you said and he chuckled, yelling a ‘thank you’ in response.

Four little words, but it showed him that someone was on his side. 

And that someone was you, which Lance needed a second to process as he walked through the paddock.

He admired you, really. 

He had been following you on social media for a while, he saw the work you put into Lewis’ organisations, how much of a role model you aspired to be. He liked the calming aura you carried into the paddock, it was something that drew Lance to you from day one.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t afraid to talk to you, maybe that’s why you were one of the few people he didn’t shy away from. He hated crowds, he hated the obligations that came with being a driver, he hated struggling to find the right words to say when a camera was shoved in his face.

But you were different. 

He could spot you halfway down the paddock and it made his job a little easier.

And if he just so happened to perform better when you were in attendance, well, no one really had any issues with that. No one even knew you were the reason behind it, behind his insane lap times during practices, behind his incredible qualifying finish that put him third behind Max and Checo.

Almost everyone was clueless, and that included Lance.

The one person who wasn’t clueless, was Lewis.

He bumped into Lance in the paddock, it was nearing sunset on that Saturday before the race and you had already gone back to the hotel at this point, telling Lewis you’ll see him later and congratulating on his P5 grid position.

Now, unlike you, Lewis was intimidating. Sure, he was probably the nicest driver in the paddock and wore his heart on his sleeve, but the man held seven world championship titles and knew a thing or two about racing. 

So naturally, when Lewis approached him, Lance stood up straighter, slid his phone into his pocket and was ready to listen to whatever the British driver had to say.

“P3, mate, good job,” Lewis congratulated him, arm going around his shoulders to pat his back as they walked through the paddock.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance smiled. “It was close there, in that last session. I just lucked out.”

“Nah it’s not luck,” Lewis laughed. “You’re a good driver. It’s only right you’re fighting for the big points.”

Lewis was a fierce competitor, but he showed every driver on the grid the respect they deserved. Lance was appreciative of his words, but it also left him stunned in response. 

You were easier to talk to than your brother, that’s for sure.

“You’re doing well this year,” he then pointed out. 

Ideally, Lance would have liked to be doing better. It was September and he found himself seventh in the standings. Better than last year, for sure, but Lance expected more of himself, more from the car. 

But what was he supposed to say to Lewis, ‘I disagree’? Lance just thanked him again.

“Do you know what I’ve noticed?" Lewis, still with one arm around Lance, laughed quietly to himself. It wasn’t threatening by any means, but Lance felt like he was missing something, he wasn’t in on whatever Lewis found so funny.

“What’ve you noticed?” He asked.

Lewis nodded and he stopped walking. Lance did too and watched as Lewis tried to hide the faint smirk on his lips, tried, but failing 

“You do better when my sister’s around.” 

Again, Lance was unsure how to respond. This wasn’t something he could agree with or find an answer for, it honestly wasn’t even something he’d thought about. 

But Lewis’ face said it all.

He had noticed the way the Canadian driver worked his way up the grid faster if you were watching the race. He kept track of Lance’s starting positions when you were in attendance compared to when you weren’t. He saw the way Lance, all around, was in a better mood and had a better weekend, if you were there.

“I don’t-” Lance shook his head, thinking maybe he had done something wrong. He didn’t want to cross any lines, he respected Lewis, respected you, your whole family. Why was he suddenly nervous that Lewis had caught onto something that had gone right over his own head?

Lewis continued on, not giving Lance a chance to defend himself or argue that he was wrong, “So you like her?”

Again, Lance struggled to get a proper sentence out, “No, I mean- I do, but not like-” he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what the right thing to say here is, man.”

Lewis found humour at how on edge Lance became all of a sudden. His intention was not to get in his head or make him stutter, but it was entertaining. 

“She’s-” Lance swallowed, “Nice. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Lewis repeated, still stifling his laughter. “Yeah, tell her that mate, I’m sure that’ll win her over.”

“What, I’m not-” Lance shook his head again, that was all he could seem to do. He felt the need to defend himself, for something he had no control over, “I’m not trying to win her over.”

“Okay,” the older driver nodded, figuring now was probably the time to quit playing mind games. He patted Lance’s arm, “Just saying, if you did want to win her over, you probably wouldn’t have to try that hard. I think she likes you too.”

Lewis let those words sit with Lance as he turned and walked towards the gates of the paddock, leaving the Aston Martin driver standing in the middle of the walkway, repeating the sentence in his head over and over again. 

‘I think she likes you too.’ 

When Lewis returned to the hotel, you were in the lobby scrolling through your phone. Lewis plopped down next to you, arm resting over the back of the couch and when you eventually looked up, you noticed the devious little expression on his face.

“What?” You asked, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lewis sighed, “I guess if you wanted, you could call me-” he raised his hands in front of him, mimicking the motion of shooting an arrow. “-cupid.” And then he looked at you, with that same mischievous grin.

Now you were really confused. 

“Who the fuck are you playing cupid for?”

Lewis hesitated, “Lance.”

That was certainly not the name you expected to hear. 

“Lance?” You repeated. “Lance and who?”

“Lance and that girl who always lingers in the paddock when he’s nearby and gives him a more genuine smile than she gives her own brother.”

It took a second for it to hit you and then you hit him, smacking your older brother in the chest as he just took the abuse and laughed. 

“Am I wrong?” Lewis asked, still unable to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Your reaction to your unrecognised feelings was so much better than Lance's. “Come on, Y/N, I’ve seen it for months now.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest in a very childlike form. Avoiding eye contact with Lewis made this conversation easier, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up. 

“So you’re telling me you don’t like him?” He questioned. “That you don’t have feelings for that pale Canadian?”

The thing was, you probably did. You just never let yourself think about it. You didn’t spend enough time around him or go to enough races to let yourself sit in those feelings or act on it. You exchanged a smile and kind words when you were around each other, but it never went any further than that and you never let yourself hope that it would.

There was no point, you’d both be gone after the race weekends, back to your lives, your respected homes. 

“I think you’re delusional,” you turned this around on Lewis instead of facing what was right in front of you. 

Quite literally, right in front of you.

You looked across the lobby right as Lance was walking inside, looking down at his phone as he lugged a backpack over his shoulder. You felt Lewis nudged your side and in response you hit his hand out of the way, inching closer to the corner of the couch.

And then Lance looked up, his eyes finding yours almost instantly. 

It was hard to put into words how you felt because up until now, you refused to admit you felt anything. You took the smiles and glances in the paddock as a sign of friendship, nothing more. 

All of a sudden, it was naive to think those moments were just friendly. 

You didn’t want to admit anything, you didn’t want to have feelings for a driver who lived on the other side of the world. You didn’t want to look at him and imagine a future where you’d be standing in his garage, attending events at his side, holding his hand when the pressure of the crowds and cameras became unbearable because as long as you could squeeze his fingers and let him know you were with him, it would be easier to breathe, for both of you to breathe.

Oh, you were fucked.

Because that was all you wanted.

You just didn't realise it until now.

Lance sent you a shy smile, purposely avoiding Lewis’ knowing stare and devious smirk as he walked towards the elevators. You felt yet another nudge in your side and it was at this moment, you couldn’t tell if you hated or loved having Lewis as your brother.

The teasing you could do without.

But if it weren’t for him, would you have ever let yourself accept that you did feel something for Lance? Or did it take Lewis pointing it out for you to realise it was impossible to ignore?

“So are you going to do anything?” Lewis asked and you really didn’t have an answer. 

All you could do was shrug and tell him that you’ll sleep on it. You told yourself that if you saw him in the paddock tomorrow and still felt that pull towards him, still thought about what it would be like to act on those feelings, then maybe, just maybe, you might do something.

But Monza ended up being a wild race to follow. You barely left the Mercedes motorhome in the morning, the race was littered with yellow flags and your focus was on Lewis and his fight rather than trying to find time to see the Aston Martin driver. 

In fact, your attention didn’t even go towards him until the end of the race neared and you noticed he was sitting in fourth place. In the back of your mind, you rooted that he would podium, but when Lewis finished second, you celebrated with him and his team. You didn’t give yourself a chance to think about Lance and his fourth place finish.

You didn’t see Lance in person at all on Sunday and you took that as a sign. 

A sign that whatever Lewis put in your head last night was not something you needed to act on.

You stayed in London during the next three races. While Lewis did invite you to come with, he always did, travelling from Singapore to Japan to Qatar seemed exhausting and you could support your brother from the comfort of your flat in London.

Lance noticed your lack of presence in the paddock though. 

He didn’t want Lewis’ words to get to him, but they did. He tried to perform his best during those races, but the most he could do was pull off a P5 finish in Japan. In Singapore he finished 7th and he had to retire in Qatar. 

Maybe he did do better when you were there.

Lance knew he should have acted on Lewis’ advice to make a move, win you over, when he had the chance to, when you were both in Monza, but you slipped right through his fingers. He saw you once in the morning, when you were walking into the Mercedes motorhome, but you were balancing a phone between your shoulder and cheek and Lance couldn’t bring himself to interrupt you. Not when he didn’t even have an idea as to what to say.

It was Monday morning in Qatar and Lance was at the airport when he pulled out his phone and mindlessly opened up Instagram. Was he hoping to see a new post from you? Yes, but he would never admit that out loud. 

But he saw it. A photo with a group of your friends at some restaurant in London. Your smile was illuminating, you were having fun, you were enjoying yourself. 

Lance was envious. Not because he wasn’t enjoying himself, but because he wanted to be there with you, he wanted to know what it was that made your head tilt back in laughter at the same time the photo was taken. 

“She’s going to New York.”

Lance looked up from where he sat in the secluded corner of the private lounge. It wasn’t uncommon to run into a driver or two in the airport the morning after a race, and it was more common to see them in the designated first-class lounges too. 

Lewis sat down across from him, eyeing the phone in his hands. He must have been behind lance when he was hovering his thumb over your photos, trying to decide if liking it crossed some sort of line. He was cautious. He didn’t want to overstep, especially with Lewis watching the two of you like you were some sort of blockbuster movie and he had front row seats.

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated, doing his best to keep the sly grin off his face. “And then she’ll be in Austin for the race, but she’s going to New York first.”

Lance sighed, carefully treading the waters, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you didn’t do anything in Monza.”

“Do anything?” He asked, but the clarification was just for appearances. They both knew what Lewis was referring to. 

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated for the final time, palms hitting his legs before he stood up. “Do whatever you want with that information.” He patted Lance on the shoulder as he walked towards the opposite end of the room, letting Lance sit there in tense uncertainty.

It would be stupid for Lance to go to New York, wouldn’t it? 

It would be stupid for Lance to go home to Montreal only to stare at his phone when you posted a photo of a restaurant in New York and then something on your story of the lobby of a hotel that Lance was fairly certain was the Mandarin Oriental in Manhattan because he had stayed there before and the walls looked horribly familiar.

It would be incredibly stupid of him to call up his friend who just so happened to live in Manhattan and make up some bullshit excuse that he was visiting the city and how it would be fun to catch a Rangers game, that way he had a reason to post New York on his story without it being too obvious that he was in New York the same time you were.

Lance knew that all of this was childish. Book a last minute trip to New York in hopes that it would get your attention? Who did that?

Lance, apparently.

You were in your hotel room on Saturday night when Lewis texted you. There were no words, just a screenshot of an instagram story that clearly showed Lance in attendance at a hockey game. You texted back saying ‘stop trying to play cupid’. 

But you had to admit, you were a little happy to hear that Lance was in the same city as you after not seeing him for over a month.  

You could have let it be, let fate decide whether or not you two would run into each other, but sometimes fate needed a little push.

So when you went out for drinks with a friend that night, you made sure to publicly post which lounge you were at. 

To anyone on the outside, you and Lance were sharing your personal lives on social media, something that you often did anyway, but Lance was an introvert, so this caught the curious eyes of a few of his friends and fans.

No one had an idea that this was the two of you communicating. That this was you saying I’m here, come find me, knowing that Lance would see and respond.  

His friend invited him to a bar after the hockey game, but Lance said he had other plans, which he did. He wanted to find you. He ordered a car to the restaurant you had posted on your story and it wasn’t long until he was wandering through the booths, keeping an eye out for you and your friends.

When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Lance got his hopes up. Thinking that finally timing would work out in his favour. 

But it was one of your friends. He recognised her from the pictures you shared. She had a glass and her phone balanced in one hand and she eyed up the Aston Martin driver with a bit of hesitation.

“Lance, right?” She asked, having recognised him as well. “I’m Y/N’s friend.”

“Is she-” he glanced up, one more look around the lounge. “Is she here?”

“She left about ten minutes ago,” your friend nodded, sounding about as disappointed as he felt. “She really thought you’d show up.”

“Yeah, fate’s not on our side I guess,” Lance tried to laugh it off, raising his hand up to scratch the hair on the back of his head. He then realised just how underdressed he was for this lounge, repping a Rangers jersey while everyone here was dressed with the intention of leaving a good impression. He didn't even think about changing first, he just wanted to find you.

Lance headed back to his hotel, trying to ignore the pitiful look from your friend. It seemed like a few people in your life wanted the two of you to finally connect outside the paddock. 

But it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone when the paddock was what finally brought you together.

You left New York the next day, heading straight to Texas to meet Lewis. He had work to do aside from Formula 1 obligations, work that involved his charities and that also involved you. So while you went to the Southern state earlier than expected, Lance was stuck in New York, trying to figure out his next move. 

And you were also trying to piece together what was going to happen next.

Your friend had texted you, saying Lance did end up showing up after you left and you wanted to scream into the void, asking yourself why didn’t you just hold off a little longer. 

You could have taken it as a sign. Another reason why you should just push your feelings aside. You two just couldn’t seem to get it right. 

Lance entered the paddock on Friday morning, holding his card against the gate scanner. Sunglasses covered his face from the scolding sun, but there wasn’t much he could do to get away from the cameras that lined the walkway.

He waited until after the morning briefing to look for a hideout, something he did at most races. Just a place to breathe if he needed it and right now he did. 

Was he intentionally walking in the direction of the Mercedes motorhome in hopes that he would spot you? Lance would say no, but the all-knowing smirk Lewis gave him when they passed each other said otherwise. 

Lance had just walked past Mercedes when the doors to the motorhome opened and you stepped out, shielding your phone screen from the sun with your hand as you tried to read the text Lewis sent you. 

‘Come outside, turn right.’

You looked right, expecting to see Lewis, because why else would he tell you to go outside? 

But instead you recognized the green Aston Martin t-shirt in the soon to be growing crowd and you knew that, even though you had just missed each other once again, you couldn’t take this as a sign to go back inside and wait for the next chance encounter. 

You had to make your own fate.

You walked down the steps and picked up your pace until you reached Lance. He had one of his airpods in, so he didn’t hear you approach from behind but he did feel the faint touch of a hand on his arm, guiding him to stop walking. 

Lance took the airpod out and looked at you. Eyebrows slightly pinched together as he tried to figure out if now, here, in the paddock was the right time to do something, to finally let those feelings he had for you win. 

“Hi,” you breathed out. 

And then you smiled and Lance knew he was done for. 

He was tired of waiting too, tired of dancing around the idea of you and him. This is what he wanted and he knew now, this was what you wanted. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, absolutely glowing under the Austin sun, but he could say the same thing about you. Lance glanced down the paddock, “I was just going for a walk. Did you want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

The lack of hesitation on your part gave Lance the confidence he needed to keep going, to not let this be restricted to just race weekends.

“What are you doing later?” He asked, and then laughed at the ridiculousness of his question. “I mean, after practice? Do you- do you have plans? Do you have dinner plans?”

You liked that he was a little awkward and a little unsure. He was cute, he was sweet, he was standing right in front of you after god knows how long you spent denying that he wasn’t anything more than someone you smiled at in passing. 

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, keeping the teasing tone to a minimum. You weren’t Lewis, you didn’t want him to overthink the idea of you two being together. 

Lance nodded, “I guess I am.”

Your smile grew, which was a response in itself. The two of you probably looked like young idiots as you stood in the paddock, both too giddy to get another word out. But that’s how it was supposed to be. You wanted to be with someone who made it hard for you to put together a sentence, you wanted to be with someone who made you smile so much you felt the discomfort in your cheeks. You wanted to be with someone who wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

And Lance was that someone.

---

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, chloestroll and 65,827 others

tagged: lance_stroll

ynhamilton something about fate?

view all 6,182 comments

lance_stroll life is better with you in it

lewishamilton you are welcome

danielricciardo this was your doing? lewishamilton just call me cupid

chloestroll the cutesttt

tbh im not in love with this and there will probably be another lance one shot coming soon to make up for it

#lance stroll x reader #lance stroll x you #lance stroll imagine #lance stroll fic #lance stroll one shot #ln18 #f1 one shot #f1 requests #lance stroll

[digitaldiarystuff]

Bad Liar

note: hiii! here’s a pedri story because I’m utterly obsessed with him atm hope you enjoy and please feel free to comment on it

————

summary: you are in a long time situationship with pedri and you’re falling more and more everyday hoping he feels the same

pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Y/N

genre: pure angst

————

You opened your eyes and felt an arm draped over your waist holding you at place, slowly turning you gaze at Pedri sleeping peacefully next to you. He looks happy and relaxed, you smile as you try to escape him and his grip on you tightens not letting you go.

“Stay.” he murmured as his nose finds its place in your hair.

“Pepi I have to go I have classes all day and you have training” you whisper back hoping this would help him get up.

“But”

“No buts, we have to go.” you said getting up and running from him into the bathroom. You two stayed at your apartment and had a cozy night decorating your christmas tree. Pedri came to you as soon as his training was over. He was affectionate as always even though your relationship didn’t have a name. You both agreed early on that you weren’t ready for a big commitment and it started as mostly sexual but every time you spent time together your bond only grew stronger.

At first you wouldn’t even sleep over but now, you spent a couple of nights together every week and you were falling in love with him every passing second. He was the best person with kindest eyes and loveliest relationship with everyone in his life. You knew his career and how over the top his fans could be so not going out together was never a problem for you, you were happy staying in but lately, you craved for something more. You were craving for the next step in this relationship and were ready to admit your feelings. You got to experience his emotional side and he listened to you when you were overwhelmed.

You were giddy and nervous but seeing how Pedri was with you, you figured he felt the same, he had to because it was so much more sensual now. You hoped you could meet up tonight and talk to him about all this.

You got ready in the bathroom and left it so that he can take a quick shower and get ready. You used this time to go down and prepare a quick breakfast for the two of you. You knew his diet like the back of your hand now and knew what he can or can’t eat. You prepared two bowls and started eating yours as he entered the kitchen smiling.

“Mmh, delicious. Thank you.” he said before placing a kiss on your temple.

This was one of the reasons you fell for him, he never held back or been cold with you after spending the night, he was as warm as before and that was one of the reasons you felt encouraged to talk to him.

“Are you free tonight?” you asked excitedly

“I think so.” he thought for a moment. “What for?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just thought we could have dinner together.”

“I’ll let you know.” he said as he finished his meal and grabbed his bag. You also stood up and got your bag.

“Did you call an uber?” he asked shocked that you were leaving at the same time.

This was another thing, even though you were going in the same direction, he couldn’t drive you in case someone saw and sometimes you thought this was over the top but convinced yourself this was how it’s supposed to be.

“Yeah, I’ll call now.” you said as he was walking out the door. He didn’t realize how your demeanor changed and left.

All day you were going over the conversation and how you would tell him that you want to be his girlfriend. You thought about many outcomes and tried guessing how he’d react. You knew he was secretive and you made sure to add how you don’t want to be in a public relationship to your speech. You were fine just being with him behind closed doors, you weren’t after his money or fame. You just felt something so strong that you couldn’t be away from him anymore.

When you were leaving campus you went into the store and picked up groceries for his favorite meal, hoping to make it for him as a way of showing how much you care. Just as you were out the store, your phone buzzed.

“Something came up can’t make it” he just wrote.

You felt your heart breaking but tried not showing too much. Your hopes crushed and instead, you texted your best friend asking her to come. You were keeping this relationship a secret from everyone because in the beginning they all told you this was a bad idea, he shouldn’t keep you hidden just because of his profession and want to show you off but you always thought they didn’t know you two. You even thought they were jealous, so you stopped telling them about Pedri but tonight you needed her.

“And then he said something came up and had to cancel.” you said a single tear rolling down your face. She said nothing and just hugged you and you realized how stupid you’ve been keeping this from her. She was your biggest supporter and wanted what’s best for you.

“You can tell I told you so.” you added and she shrugged.

“Eh, I’ll do that later, but baby, maybe he’s held up at training or had to attend to something work related. Don’t overthink it, if you think you love him, don’t let this discourage you.”

You thanked her as you thought over her words, it was true you didn’t even ask him what came up. Maybe it was a last minute sponsor dinner or something about his family.

“Let’s watch some tiktok.” your best friend suggested hoping to get your mind off of him and you agreed.

You spent like 30 minutes watching and even making some videos, you came across a pedri fan account and she was saying how he’s trending now.

“Hey Y/N, go on twitter. They’re saying Pedri’s trending.” she said and you were confused. It wasn’t a match day so Pedri trending was out of the ordinary and sure enough, he was.

“What’s this about?” you asked as you pressed into a link that sent you over to a girl’s instagram you’ve never seen before and saw she posted a story a few minutes ago. She had over 10k followers and you figured it must be an influencer. You clicked on the story and saw a photo of a couple.

tanyaslifexx

You froze at your place, trying to understand what’s going on and your best friend reached over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. She understood what you figured and looked at you to see your reaction immediately. She wanted to kill Pedri right now.

“Maybe it’s not him.” she said trying to help you.

“It’s him” you said slowly, “I bought that watch to him for his birthday.”

————

note: ahhh it’s killing me to cut the story here but i need to see if you like it and should i continue please tell me if you want me to make a part 2!!

and please please please send in some player names and genres for potential stories that’d be great help luv

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #pedro gonzalez #fc barcelona #football imagine #football x you #football #football x reader #football x y/n #pedri blurb #football blurb #football angst #pedri angst

[yangbbokari]

In my past, I find you and in the future, I still have you

Pairing: Bang Chan x F!reader Genre/AU/Tropes: Angst, lovers to exes and back to lovers, idol!AU Warnings: Breakup, a few(lots) tears, cursing, (it might hit close to home so read at your own risk), sick reader, memory loss WC: 2.5k Summary: Leaving Bang Chan was hard for you. But how hard would it be on Chan? (Not really a summary but yk ✨SUSPENSE✨) A.N: Okay so it won't stop bugging me and I'm eatin' this up. Also, this is very cliche, ik. so🤫🤫 Song Rec: Atlantis - Seafret, I Love You So - The Walters, If the world was ending - JP Saxe ft. Julia Michaels

It's not that you didn't love him. It was that you couldn't. He already had so much work piled on him. Late nights at the studio and being overworked by his company was already taking a toll on not only his physical, but mental health too. Now in these circumstances, he didn't need you to add on to that.

You were diagnosed with a brain tumor last week. The doctors had said that you would slowly lose your memory over time and the operation was risky.

“It’s best to tell your loved ones so they will know when the time comes.”

But how could you do that to Chan. You wouldn’t want him to worry about you and forfeit his career. Yes, he would be an emotional wreck if you left him, but it’d be worse if you left his world completely.

What hurt your heart the most though, was that the universe seemed to be playing tricks on you.

“You’ll most likely lose about five years of your memory.”

Five years. Five years ago when you and Chan met. Isn’t that funny. It was making you forget him. Why though? Why did you have to forget the only person who made you truly happy?

So you had no choice. No choice but to let him go. Let him be happy with someone new. Someone who isn't you. As much as you wished that none of this fell on you, there wasn't really another option.

You let there be a slow let down. Drips of it at a time instead of a waterfall. A small flame instead of a blazing fire. I light breeze instead of raging winds. A tiny whisper instead of a loud voice.

So you packed your bags and waited for him. When he got home, late at night, or you could say an early time in the morning, you sat him down. He was clearly worried. It wasn't normal for you to be up this late let alone sitting him down like he'd done something wrong. Before you could even get a word out he grabbed your hands and starting speaking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for whatever I've done that makes you wish to leave me. Please don't end this. I'll fix whatever is wrong. You're... you're everything I could ask for so don't say anything about us seperating."

Why could he read you so well? How were you suppose to leave him when he looked at you like this? Why did he make it so hard for you to leave him? But you had to tell him one way or another. You took a shuddering breath before spilling it on him.

"I just don't think..." It was suffocating you. You didn't want to continue but you had to. Tears were already rushing to your eyes, ruining your plan. But you couldn't let him see them. "...I don't think I can continue o-our relationship."

"Why?" He said almost immediately.

You wanted to tell him the truth. Or at least give him a soft reason. But you knew you had to hurt him so that he would want to forget you.

"Because I'm tired. You come home at late times. You're probably out with some other girl while I sit at home, waiting for you. Besides, I'm tired of keeping this useless relationship a secret. How long have we been together, Christopher?"

"Don't call me that."

You knew him hearing his government name coming from your mouth would hurt him a little too deep.

"Four years... four years and not even the members know, Christopher."

"Don't call me that!" Tears brimmed his eyes as you spoke.

"I want someone who can be with me and have time for me. Someone who can show me off as if I'm his entire world."

"You are my entire world."

"I don't want to be anybody's SECRET anymore!"

The tears were threatening to push all boundaries and just fall. But you had to keep your resolve.

His grip on your hands tightened. "FIne. I'll take some time off a-and we can do whatever you want. A-and w-we'll go public. I-I-I don't want t-to hide you either so let's-"

"No. I'm done, Christopher. I'm done with all of this and I'm leaving."

Chan gradually moved from the couch and onto his knees, in front of you as he shook his head.

"Please don't call me that. Channie, babe, baby, anything but Christopher. And please... please don't leave me. I'll do anything just don't go. You're the best thing that could possibly happen in my life so d-don't go. You're my happiness. I-I don't know what to do without you. You're my life and soul. You're my everything. So don't walk away..."

You could feel his tears fall onto your lap and hands as he hung his head low. You wanted to sob your heart out. Tell him that this is only for a little while and you'll come back. But you couldn't. So you pushed him away. Walking to your shared bedroom and coming out with suitcases. Chan's eyes widened a he ran to your side.

"Where are you going? Are you seriously going to just leave everything behind? Please don't, please...? Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Let me go."

"Anything but that."

His hand rested over yours, stopping you. His eyes pleading you to stay. His breath shaky and unstable. His trembling body from the disbelief. His bothered mind, not wanting to believe this.

“I already said I’m tired and I’m leaving.”

“Take me with you.”

“I’m leaving you.”

You sent the words like sharp, cold icicles straight into his heart. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His whole world was falling apart.

No.

His whole world was walking away. Away from him. Away from everything they’ve ever created. Away from their love. His arms went limp and you did as you said. You left him. You walked away. ~~~ It’s been a year now. The operation was successful and you made it out safely. But not your memories. As life went on, you felt a little uncomfortable. Like something was missing. Someone was missing. You couldn’t pinpoint it though. So you found a new way to cope, K-pop.

It started recently. A month or two ago maybe. Not that you really could remember. Your friends introduced you to BTS and it just fascinated you. Recently, you started standing a new group, Stray Kids. You didn’t exactly have a bias yet. But, you were really drawn to one member in particular, Bang Chan. He brought you much warmth and for some reason, you kind of felt familiar with him. Like you’ve known him since forever even though you only discovered Stray Kids last week.

Your friend, Yuna, happened to have an extra Stray Kids concert ticket. How could you say no? It wasn’t until another two weeks. But, hello? You had to find the finest outfit out of what you already had. As you rummaged through your closet, a box fell from the top, and you dodged it quickly. The box broke open revealing photos, a diary, a necklace, a phone, and a couple of CDs.

The items weren’t something you recognized. Probably Yuna’s, you thought. But curiosity got the best of you. Yuna wouldn’t mind… right? So you gathered the items together before actually looking at them. Shocked, was an understatement.

There was photos of you and no other than, Bang Chan, together. Cuddling, kissing, canoodling, everything you could possibly find in the books. There’s no way. The person you’ve been admiring for a couple of weeks was… was… was someone you were infatuated with.

You put the rest of the items back into the box and rushed to living room. Placing the box on the table, you took out a few CDs and placed one in the CD player. It was without a doubt, Chan’s voice coming through the speakers. His soft voice singing a love song. You then took out the diary. It contained little moments that you recorded. Your eyes skimmed through the diary until the last page. Tears rushed to your eyes.

“Hi, me. Hi, Y/n. It’s me or you or us. I don’t really know. But I’m writing this because I want you to know about someone. Someone who helped you through everything. Christopher Bahng. Bang Chan. The man who you love most and who loves you most. Don’t forget him. Run to his side as soon as you read this. He’ll be waiting. I promise. If you forget about him, remember the most you possibly can. He’s the only one who will protect you and stay by you. You met at the cafe shop right outside of JYP. Your first date took place at the same place. You had your first kiss during a movie night at his place. His birthday is October 3rd, 1997. He’s your soulmate.”

You grabbed the phone and opened it. Thank god it was unlocked. Thank the past you who was smart enough not to put a password on it. Opening your camera roll, there was gazillion pictures of you and him. Your phone book had only his number in it. Everything on that phone had to do with him. Even the small little widgets.

Memories flooded your mind. It was all of him. Everything about him. You took a deep and shaky breath. Looking at his contact on this phone, you contemplated on pressing it. You ended up pressing it anyway. Now the problem was, how to call him. It was too nerve-wracking. Though it was only about 10 seconds, it felt like hours until you pressed, call. The other end connected almost immediately.

"Y/n... Hello?"

Your breath hitched. It really was him. The voice, the person, the missing peice. You finally found it.

"Y/n, are you there? P-please let it be you. I ran from practice once I knew it was you. Hello? Please say som-"

And you hung up. Everything was finally clicking. Now you knew why you felt like you've known him since forever. Why you felt you had a missing piece. He was there all along and you were just too stupid to realize it.

You finally let your long held breath out. Your heart beating at a rapid pace. Everything felt so surreal. As much as you wished to deny it, you knew it was all true. ~~~ When the time of the concert came, you were ready. Emotionally, probably not. But physically, definitely. You placed the necklace around your neck. The one you had found in the box. It was a galaxie pendant with your's and Chan's intitials written on the back. You dressed exactly how he liked. Well not exactly, but close. He usually prefered you in what you were most comfortable in. But you knew he absolutely loved when you were fully in black. Preferably, a skin tight dress. So that's what you wore. You did a small touch of makeup with a coral shade of lipstick. It was his favortite shade on you. Even though he really liked your natural beauty.

You mustered up all the courage left in you and you went to the concert. Were you scared? The answer was yes. You weren't sure what to expect but that didn't mean it didn't made you scared.

Yuna managed to get her hands on V.I.P tickets which meant you could even go backstage. Your head was jumbled of all the things you were gonna tell him. It made you feel kind of guilty for leaving him like he was nothing just to run back to him. But you still loved him and you weren't gonna let anything get in the way this time.

Eventually, you made it. But you were now standing in the front, extremely nervous. What would he think when he saw you again? Would he be mad at you?

No one but you two knew of your previous relationship. So not even Yuna would have known that she was taking you to the one person you loved.

As soon as they entered the stage, you froze in place. Your eyes couldn't leave his figure. They followed every single one of his movements. What you didn't expect though, even though you should've, was when his eyes found you.

It was after the first song ended and they just started talking to the fans. As he scanned the gigantic crowd, his eyes softened. But when his eyes moved to the row in front of him, his eyes widened. They widened with shock, surprise, disbelief. There you were, standing in the audience of a concert for him. It has always been a dream of his to see you at his concert.

You took off as soon as you saw his eyes widen. You most definitely were not ready for that. You should’ve mentally prepared yourself better. Your heart wouldn’t stop beating rapidly. ~~~ It wasn’t until after the concert that you finally came back. Yuna had to drag you backstage. She kept teasing you for being so shy. But if only she knew. In the end, you were face to face with each of the members. You didn’t do anything, staying still.

Bang Chan had a whole lot of self control, to not run to you and hug you. But Yuna just had to have such a big mouth and said, “ Y/n’s favorite member is Chan! She had her eyes on you the whole time. Was even too nervous to come back here and meet you.”

You face completely flushed with a deep color of pink, immediately looking at Chan. Nervously chuckling as you inputted, “Y-yeah… haha..” Now you both were clearly uncomfortable. The silence kept between the two of you was insufferable as the others teased you. ~~~ Somehow, you were now trapped in a room with Chan. The others left to give you some “privacy,” or so the called it. It felt like hours before one of you finally spoke.

“Hey, y/n…” He said.

“Hey…”

“How’ve you b—”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything.”

A few moments of silence fell between you again.

“I’m sorry for leaving you and saying things so horrible.” Now tears started clouding your vision as you talked. “I actually didn’t want that. It was all a mistake a-and I really really miss everything we had. I know I sound stupid. But I lied. I lied about everything and I should’ve told you the truth. I-I-I-I had a brain tumor.” Your tears were a full on waterfall now and they definitely weren’t stopping anytime soon. “And I was scared I would affect your career. I was scared that I would forget you, us and everything we had.”

Without a doubt, Chan was also crying. He quickly came to hug you and comfort you. He hushed you down.

“N-no it’s okay. I know it must’ve been hard. I should’ve kept pursuing you and staying by your side no matter what.”

“Don’t blame yourself. You had no choice but to believe me. I was the one who left.”

He just shook his head and held you as close as possible.

“But you’re here now, aren’t you?” He asked before you nodded your head. “See, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

Let’s just sayyyyyyy, y’all made up just fine and now you’re happy. Yuna and the other members were shocked for sure but it all went well. The two of you were now together and that’s how it would be, forever. ~~~ another a.n: sry for the ass ending y’all😭 but I didn’t know how to end it with a make up so that’s what I gave. It was also super rushed so sry for that too. Maknae line pt.2 should b out by tmrw so don’t worry. Love y’all though!!!😘😖💗

#skz x reader #skz #skz angst #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan ff #bang chan imagines #bang chan angst #bangchan fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bangchan #stray kids #bang chan x you #stray kids scenarios #straykids angst #stray kids drabbles #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz x you #skz x y/n #skz fanfic

[leclsrc]

hi auds bear how about a “singing off-key in their parked car and suddenly a person outside starts laughing” blurb with charles (-: feel like that is so him

take a chance on me – cl16

Damn ABBA and their catchy songs.

auds here... moping over my 3h meeting that effectively bars me frm watching the gp i hate uni! :( love u guys i love this req kskkskd

Charles hasn't gotten that godforsaken ABBA song out of his head.

It’s gotten to the point where earworm infects even his physical movements and he starts holding up an invisible mic like some demented Meryl Streep wannabe. It’s embedded itself into his pre- and post-race routines now, but he’s smart enough to do it alone in his room, because if any member of the team saw this embarrassing schtick, he’d be good as dead.

His car ends up being a constant concert venue. He usually drives in the dark, when meetings are over, or in early mornings, when nobody’s around to sneak a peek (not that they should, but fans are pesky) and he’s free to pretend he’s embodying a sickened heartbroken woman’s voice.

It’s chillier today than last week, which to him warrants a car concert warm-up. He cues the song on his speaker system and starts preparing. He’s on drums today, because his last two performances he was on piano, but he’s always on vocals, whistling and yelling the high parts. If you change your mind... he sings, nodding his head to the beat.

This is all Lorenzo’s fault, seriously—the prick couldn’t stop playing it at lunch two weeks prior and now Charles is paying the price. But he isn’t exactly complaining (If you put me to the test, if you let me try!) In the midst of his performance he tries to remember what the meeting is about. New hires, if he recalls, for the marketing team or something. They want to run some things by him and Carlos, or someth—

In the middle of his high note the song stops; he thinks maybe someone might be calling. His voice cracks in the silence. Oh, and somebody is watching in confusion a few feet away.

He realizes it’s a pretty girl, clad in a jeans and a knit jumper, squinting and cocking her head to the side a bit.

You’d hurried around to try and find the source of the ABBA music you’d heard when getting out of your own car. The culprit, it seems, is not a tinny forgotten speaker but an adult man in his car. You blink. The adult man is also, apparently, the race driver you’re supposed to be in a meeting with in five minutes.

You smile. And then you just burst out in a quiet laugh, unable to hide your pure amusement. He swallows. And then he blanches, unable to hide his pure embarrassment. In less than a second he’s turned off his car and disembarked, scrambling to explain himself. 

“This is so embarrassing,” he says profusely. “You see, I am—”

—

“—just practicing singing, you see, for a play,” you recount to your friends, laughing so hard your cheeks and stomach hurt. You could never tire of this story, told and retold during parties and dinners alike. Who wouldn’t love this story? It’s a silly one of how you met the love of your life.

Lando had said once the unorthodox meeting was probably the mark of your true love. Some others said it was the fact that you’d been together so long. Others, your compatible careers. Others even said it was the music taste.

You smile as you finish, and Charles braves the teasing just to see you content and happy.

Maybe that’s the best marker of true love there is—not that all the prior ideas are invalid, it’s just. Maybe this is the realest one. It’s also, Charles realizes as he seeks your eyes, the hardest marker to describe. It’s an emotion and a verb all at once, in the very quiet and very intimate unexplainable way.

He thinks—no, he knows—that true love feels like an inside joke. It feels like the click, inaudible and fuzzy, that reverberates through his body when finally your eyes seem to take the hint and meet his. It feels like the laugh, the gigle only two of you share. It feels like a quaint smile. It feels like the story you two have told before and will tell again, with peals of laughter and hands held tight together.

The whole true love thing is a confusing prompt with so many answers, and he could consult anyone to help him out—his mum, his brothers, his best friends, maybe even squeeze his eyes shut and try to send a message of question to Jules or his dad—but none of them would come close to describing this feeling.

He knows love happens to people who’ve known each other their whole lives. He knows it happens to friends, to enemies. Naturally, it happens to strangers—tied together by some invisible string that shortens and overlaps and knots in itself and finally is struck by the fates to bring two people together. Call him biased, but he thinks he’s lucky he falls into the last category. Okay, call him cheesy, but he’ll admit he’d do anything to have you any way in any other life.

If in another universe you were a childhood friend with some corny nickname, or a rival whose eyes would soften when an argument tapered into a confession. Even then he’d love you. He might love you differently, but he could never love you more. 

Now is the best, he thinks. Now you’re the funny girl in the pretty dress with a bottle of beer and laughter escaping your sunkissed face. Now it’s 1,095 days later and he still loves you, just as much as he did three chilly Octobers ago, when you smiled amusedly at him in the parking lot of Maranello. Maybe this time it’ll be a different ABBA song you both sing. 

#f1 #leclsrc3000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader

[silverhairsimp]

I Can't Sleep Without You

Pairing: Bokuto x fem!Reader

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT ENTER. PWP. Oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, consensual recording. Bokuto is the consent king. Doesn't matter how long you've been together.

a/n: I had this idea in the middle of the night and woke up to draft half of it. finally finished it so here you goooo :) enjoy! not proof read. also. two posts in one day? who tf am I?

reblogs are always appreciated <3

Trying to balance dating a professional volleyball player with a full career of your own has always been a challenge. No matter how badly you wanted to be there at every single game, every international trip, it just wasn’t realistic. 

You and Koutarou had been together since your third year of high school. You survived college together (despite the long distance), and after living together since he went pro, it was nearly impossible to get a good night's sleep whenever he was away for games. 

And this time was no different. He had been gone for a 10 day trip overseas for one of the biggest tournaments of the year. Between your work schedule, his practice schedule, and the time difference… phone calls were scarce, texts were short lived and it was really starting to get to you. Sleeping in your giant bed without him was hard enough! The last thing you needed was for your schedules to be the farthest thing from compatible.

As the days went on, it got harder and harder. The side of his bed was so cold without his warm body next to you and it was beginning to be too much. Logically there was only one solution: get all the pillows in the house, your favorite sweatshirt of his, his cologne and cuddle up in bed to make due. And until he got back, this is how you slept. 

You had practically built a barricade in the bed, pillows surrounding you in every direction and corner. He wasn’t supposed to be back for another two days, but by some miracle he had gotten home early. Unbeknownst to you though… it was the middle of the night by the time he got back and what a surprise it was to see upon his arrival. Or at least it would have if you were awake to greet him.

You were snuggled up under the covers, leg hiked up over one pillow with your arms clinging to another for dear life. You’ve got his sweatshirt on and he can smell the fresh scent of his cologne from the door to your bedroom. It wasn’t enough for you to just spray it on the sweatshirt though, you had to put a few drops of it into the diffuser so the whole room would smell like him. 

You must be so tired because you hadn’t even moved a muscle since he walked in. Quickly and quietly, he sets his bags down and changes into his comfy clothes to get some sleep with you finally in his arms again. Only when he goes to crawl into bed, there’s almost no room! “Baby girl… you trying to replace me or something?” He asks as he brushes your hair out of your eyes and smoothes it behind your ear, followed by a tender kiss to your forehead. “There she is,” he smiles warmly at you when you finally start to open your eyes. “Kou? You’re home already?” You sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes with the heel of your hand. He sits on the edge of the bed and nods his head, “One of the teams dropped out last minute so our games got cut back, we had already played each team twice… no sense in playing them a third, or at least that what coach thought–” he’s babbling and you smile at him, reaching out your arms finally happy and complete now that you’ve got your boyfriend back with you. “Sooo,” he draws out, “wanna tell me what’s going on with all the pillows? And why I can smell my cologne in the diffuser?” He asks with a soft chuckle and a bright smile. He’s not mad at all, not in the slightest. “Just missed you is all… had a hard time sleeping without you.” It’s actually really endearing you’d gone to such lengths to keep yourself comfortable while he was gone. And to be fair, he was no better. He slept with that polaroid of the two of you under his pillow, the one from after his first win as part of the MSBY Black Jackals. He had scored the winning spike and was so excited that he ran straight to you before the refs had even called the game. It’s such a fond memory of his and it's honestly what keeps him going. You are what keeps him going. “Well, I’m here now, so… can I have my spot back, or am I still being substituted by a bunch of pillows?” He laughs as you throw the pillows off the bed, not caring if they fall to the ground or land against the wall. The only thing that matters is that you have him back. And that’s very clear once you throw your arms around his neck and climb into his lap. His hands settle on your hips as he finally gets to hold you and kiss you again after far too long. 

“Missed you too– by the way–” He mumbles against your lips, in between kisses. All of a sudden, you aren’t so tired anymore, he can tell by the way you start to rock your hips in his lap and tug on the hairs at his nape. When he wore his hair down, it made grabbing and tugging at it so much easier, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the reasons why he started doing it more often. 

He moves the two of you back against the headboard, sitting upright with you still in his lap. “You don’t still need this do you?” He tugs on the strings of his hoodie, “now that I’m back?” You shake your head and smile before telling him: “take it off”, and who is he to deny anything you could ever want. 

His lips find yours while his large, calloused hands travel up your hips to your waist, just wanting to feel you again before gathering the fabric and pushing it up and over your head. “There she is… my beautiful girl…” He places open mouthed kisses up your bare chest, between the valley of your breasts before giving some much needed attention to your tits. He rolls his tumb over one nippple while his mouth swirls around the other, sucking on it before popping off and moving to the other side. 

“Missed your body– missed kissing you goodnight every night… missed fucking you to sleep on others…” He keeps mumbling between kisses while you grind against his lap. “Missed you too baby… tried to take care of myself, but it never feels as good as when you do it.” He snickers at that, “Poor baby, your fingers not long enough? Need me to take care’a you?” When you nod your head yes, he flips you on to your back, positioning himself right between your thighs. 

Your fingers claw at his shirt, wanting him to match, it was only fair that way. He lets you pull it off, lowering his head to get it out of the hole and pulling one arm out before tossing the shirt on the ground, left to be forgotten about until morning. “Bet you taste so good… can I, baby? Can I taste you?” When you nod your head yes and push his head down further he stops, “Uh uh, gotta hear you say it… you know that.” He places a few kisses right above your collarbone, sucking a mark into the skin there while he waits for your consent. “Please Kou, want you to. I need it– need you so bad– please touch me…” It was more than enough to satisfy him. Hearing your cute little plea’s just to get him to touch you after your time apart. 

“That’s a good girl– my good girl. Now, hips up for me–” He instructs as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slides them down your legs. Grinning at the silvery strands that connect to the fabric as he pulls them away. “So wet already… were you thinking about me before I got back?” He asks as he tugs his boxers down his thighs, not wanting to worry about them later. “Always think about you when you’re gone–” you whisper as you arch off the bed, longing for his touch. “Yeah? Me too…” He lowers himself down onto the bed and kicks even more of the pillows off as he presses kisses to your inner thighs while he gets closer and closer to what he really wants– what he needs. “Spend so much time getting myself off to those naughty pictures you send… all the videos we’ve taken… Gettin’ me all worked up just thinking about them.” He licks a fat stripe through your folds and suckles on your clit, that smirk on his face growing wider as you twitch under his touch. “Why don’t we add to the collection, hm baby? Wanna take a video of how good I eat you out? Have something to remember me for the next time I’m away?” You nod your head and quickly scramble to find your phone. If it weren’t for the face id, you’d certainly be struggling to enter or even remember your password right now. That chime of the camera sounds and the flash turns on, reflecting in his honeyed eyes as he devours you. It's obscene. The way his chin and corners of his mouth are already covered in your slick. Or the way his eyes have never left the camera. Gods what did you do to deserve a man that takes such good care of you? 

That question lingers even longer when he kisses your thighs and spits right onto your pussy, only to bring two fingers to your cunt. “C’mon sweetheart, wanna hear you… don’t keep those cute noises all to yourself… wanna have this video too and watch it in the showers, or in my hotel room all alone and remember how good I made you feel.” When you start to get louder, he works even harder. Giving you his tongue and his fingers at the same time. He’s curling them inside of you so perfectly and hits that spot over and over again until you’re coming undone within minutes. “That’s it baby girl– ride it out– use me, please…” He begs you and hums against your cunt when you start to rock your hips against his face. You’re trying your best to hold the camera steady while your other hand reaches to fist his hair, tugging him even closer while another orgasm builds. “Kou– fuck… want your cock– please, need you after so long–” You beg and gods he can’t wait to replay this video over and over again, hearing you plead for him. “Anything for you– gimme the phone, sweetheart.” He removes his fingers, popping them in his mouth to wipe off the rest of your essence while he sits back on his haunches and takes the phone from you. 

“Be a good girl and get on all fours for me…” When you do what he asks, he gives your ass a little love smack and uses your phone to get a good view of your pussy. It's so slick with his saliva and he’s sure it’ll make it even easier to slip right in. 

Still, your boyfriend isn’t a small guy, so he spits right on the tip of his cock and pumps himself a few times. Of course making sure to record it for you later. 

He's got the phone pointed straight down as he watches his cock push past that tight ring of muscle through the screen. “F-fuck…” he mutters breathlessly, and you’re not far behind with curses of your own. “Hnngh, baby… go slow… been a while…” “I know love, you’re doing so good for me, aren’t you?” When all you do is nod your head he stills his hips, “Aren’t you?” He asks again in a more firm tone, “Yes– doing good for you, only for you, Kou… please.” 

Gods you really are such a good girl, his perfect baby. A few moments pass as he allows you to adjust, once you give him the okay, he draws back his hips and thrusts forward again. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes against the quiet walls of your shared bedroom and it’s music to his ears. Hearing that and hearing your cries of pleasure is all he could ever wish for. 

“Can already feel you clenching around me… gonna cum?” he asks as he continues to piston his cock into you, when you babble on a string of ‘yes’s and ‘please let me cum’ he tosses the phone on the bed and reaches around to rub tight circles around your clit. Working you up until that second release hits and you’re gushing round his cock, making a mess on the sheets below. 

“Fuck– squirting like that without a proper warning? Naughty girl…” He snickers as he picks up the pace even more, chasing that blissful high of his own. “Gonna cum, baby– gonna fill ya up nice and deep, yeah? Bet you missed this the most… missed my cum inside you, hm?” 

“Yes– fuck– yes, missed your cum– please, kou– need t’feel it, please!” You beg so pretty for him and he wouldn’t dream of not giving you what you wanted so with one final warning, he lets you know he’s cumming and shortly after he’s painting your walls white. 

He keeps thrusting, getting it as deep as he can until he’s given you everything he could hold before he collapses on top of you. Even with the video long forgotten about, the phone is still recording all the audio. He holds you close in his arms, pulling your leg over his hip with his cock still buried inside of you. “I love you, so much… you know that right?” 

You rest your hand on his chest and nod, “Yes, Kou. I know, and I love you too. Just as much.” 

He rubs soothing strokes along your backside and peppers your forehead with kisses until you’re closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep. He finds your phone as quietly as he can and flips the camera to face him, telling the camera one last time, ‘i love you’, before turning it off. 

Being away from you while he’s away for tournaments may suck, but getting to come home to you like this makes it all worthwhile.

#bokuto x reader #bokuto x fem!reader #bokuto smut #bokuto fluff #warning: recording #I LOVE HIM #bokuto kotaro smut #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x y/n #tays fics #shs fics

[sacredthefran]

Cream & Sugar Pt 8 (1/2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka + Female Reader 

Warnings: Sugar Daddy, Nothing crazy in this part….that comes in the next two parts. Just some fluffy Jake :) Also, this is a 18+ blog so minors DNI  

Authors Notes: After a mental break here’s the first half part 8 :) I decided to start rewriting it this morning (because i hate myself) but expect the second half to be later tonight or tomorrow. 

Also…Happy Early Birthday Cassie :) Love you so big! 

“He did what?” 

“I know, I’m just as shocked as you.” You tore your eyes away from the clothing rack in front of you to meet Beth’s face scrunched up in question. 

“Huh. Who knew Jake Kiszka could be a romantic.” She moved her head, swaying her blonde hair back and forth in a sassy manner. 

“It was just weird. Like who comes to some random city because their ‘girl’ is on a work trip, steals her away from her boss and then plans a date. I just don’t get it. Feels like a fever dream.” 

“Have you heard from Mr. Koszak since your trip? I know Jake came and whisked you away from him….but I haven’t heard anything from him in the past couple of days. That’s not like him.” 

You could feel your heart starting to thump in your chest, your breath getting caught in your throat, you were positive your cheeks were a bright red under your foundation, your eyes getting wider by the second. Breathe, y/n. Breathe. 

“I…”

You started stuttering, trying to find the right words to say, Jake’s voice popping into your head reminding you of the conversation you had last night before he dropped you off at your apartment ‘Don’t say anything to anyone. I’m serious, ignorance is bliss.”.

“I haven’t heard from him since I gave him my letter of resignation,”

The gasp that left Beth’s mouth made a couple of customers browsing the store look up from the clothing racks to shoot both of you a dirty look. 

“Resignation? You QUIT?”

“People are staring.” You hissed out at her, making quick glances around the store - giving everyone a closed mouth smile to ease the trying to ease the tension forming. 

“Does it look like I care?” She arched her perfectly waxed brow at you - pausing for a moment before continuing. “You quit?” 

Dropping your gaze down to the burgundy sweater you held in your hands, running your fingers up and down the soft fabric, trying to think of the right thing to say to Beth. Besides Landyn, she was your confidant - your go to, your person, the one soul you could tell anything to and there would be no judgment. You felt your chest tightening the more you thought about lying to her. 

“Yes. Roxanne gave me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I-” 

“Roxanne gave you an offer?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You countered back, starting to take offense to the tone Beth was persistent on giving you. 

“Did she give you the offer or did Jake?” She sneered over at you, flipping casually through the sweaters like she was browsing the morning newspaper. 

Tossing your hair over your shoulder, you gave a loud huff and put the sweater back onto the metal rack. “Is it so hard to believe that Sisterhood Movement would be interested in me? That they would want to take a chance with me? It’s not like I was going anywhere with my career at American Justice.”

“Y/n, I di-”

“You didn’t what? Mean to come off as a dick? Mean to come off as insensitive? Mean to think that I’m not worthy of working for a company that holds the same beliefs that I do? Please, enlighten me.” 

“You know that I didn’t mean it like that. I could have worded it differently…I don’t know how to describe it. I guess it’s jealousy….ever since Jake came into your life, all these good things keep happening. Your career is taking off and you just look happy. I don’t hear from you as often as I used to. Every time I text you to hang out or just to see if you want to go to dinner or something little like that, you’re either on the phone with him or you’ve been hanging out with that one guy…what’s his name?”

“Danny?” You questioned raising your eyebrows. 

“That’s it! And now that you have a new job….I’m not going to see you.” 

“Beth….” You trailed off, shaking your head at her. 

“Don’t say ‘Beth’ in that tone.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Yes you do. It’s the little pity whine that you do when you feel bad for someone.”

“I-”

“No, stop it. Don’t you even dare to think about feeling bad for me.”  Beth turned her head to the side, raising up a singular finger to point at you. 

“I don’t feel bad…I just wish you would’ve told me about how you’re feeling sooner.” 

“And why would I do that?”

“Obviously so we wouldn’t be having this conversation in the middle of a store!” You exclaim moving both hands around, gesturing to the clothes racks surrounding you. 

Beth looked at you like a deer being caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, before she cracked a smirk - letting out a loud laugh. You were sure the people around you had to have thought the two of you were crazy, one moment you two looked like you wanted to rip each others head off to now sharing laughter. 

“I’m really happy for you though. I know it’s your dream to help with women's rights and I let my stupid jealousy cloud my happiness for you.” 

“It’s okay…”

“It’s not, don’t act like it is.” Beth gave you a pointed glare, “Are you hungry? I’m starving.” 

As if it was a perfect stage que, your stomach let out a grumble. 

“Does Jake not pay you enough for you to go grocery shopping? Hmmmm. C’mon, I’ll buy you some pasta.” 

She made her way over to you - wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you into a side hug, making sure to squeeze you extra tight. Almost as if it was another way for her to apologize. 

“And maybe a sangria?” You looked up at the blonde haired woman giving her a light chuckle. 

“Babes, I’ll buy you every bottle on the wine list. We have to celebrate your new job after all.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren’t sure what time it was when you woke up in the morning, grabbing your phone off your nightstand - squinting your eyes at the bright light. 

Shit. Shit. SHIT. Jake’s going to fucking kill me. 

You rubbed your eyes as you looked at the white numbers displayed on the screen - 9:26. Cursing yourself out mentally for oversleeping, you ripped the fuzzy blanket off of you, stalking over to your closet trying to find the perfect outfit for your first day - knowing that you didn’t have time for it but you needed to look somewhat presentable. It is Roxanne Kepner  afterall. If you were going to piss her off by being late, you might as well look like you put effort into your look. 

Sighing as you rolled your eyes, you flipped through the bright colors now adorning your wardrobe. It was something that Jake had insisted on, he kept assuring you that you needed bold pieces to help you stand out in the courtroom - your muted wardrobe wouldn’t get you noticed as much. The buzzing on your bed pulled you out of your aimlessly flipping. 

Speaking of the devil

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jake deadpanned into the phone the second you answered. 

“I-”

“You what? There’s no excuse for this. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I went out of my way to get you this position and you can’t even show up on time?” 

“Ja-”

“No. You don’t even get to speak right now. Roxanne called me and told me that you didn’t show up. I told her that I needed to see you this morning and that I forgot to inform her that you would be running late. I told her you would be there in an hour.”

“Tha-” 

 Pulling the phone away from your ear with a roll of your eyes. Of course he would hang up - deciding not to waste anymore time, you grabbed the first two pieces you saw, silently thanking god that they matched. You didn’t like the idea, but it looked like you would have to go into the office without your hair and makeup done. You already knew that you were starting off on the wrong foot with Roxanne, so you didn’t have time to waste, having to skip all the little details that made you feel confident and ready to take on the day.  

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. You kept repeating to yourself as you pulled up to the tall brick building - maybe your stomach was turning because you could only grab an apple this morning or maybe it was turning because you knew that this moment right here determined how your career at Sisterhood Movement would unfold. Taking a deep breath you walked into the lobby, feeling like everyone’s eyes were on you, you weren’t sure if it was because you were the new girl or if it was because word travels fast in the lawyer world and everyone knew you as Jake Kiszka’s new plaything. 

Quietly making your way over to the elevator, you were thrilled to see that it was empty. It didn’t help a lot but it did something to calm your anxiety. You’ll be okay, Jake knows these people, he wouldn’t put you in a bad position…or would he? No, no way he would.

Your thoughts were interrupted as the doors sprung open and there was a short redhead standing on the other side of the elevator doors, beaming at you. 

“Y/n?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Stupid, of course she knows it’s you. “I mean, obviously you know it’s me. I’m just so nervous, sorry about that.” 

“Sweetie, don’t worry about it. Are you planning on coming out of the elevator or are you going to stand there all day?” She softly chuckled. 

“I- sorry.” You rushed out all flustered, raising your hand for the woman to shake but then quickly dropped it when you saw how bad your hand was trembling. 

“Stop apologizing! You’re fine, y/n. I won’t let anyone be mean to you…. I’m Roxanne by the way, but since you’re Jake’s girlfriend, feel free to call me Roxy.” 

With a sharp turn, you watched as Roxanne made her way through the hallways, weaving in between desks. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll know your way around this place soon enough. I sometimes get lost.” She tilted her head, giving you a wink over her shoulder before stopping right at an empty desk across from a brunette haired woman. “Sorry about the cubicle. I promised Jake that I would move you into an office within the next month or so. Just waiting for Sarah to leave.” 

“Oh, I had a cubicle at my old firm, I’m more than happy to stay at one.” You looked at Roxanne with wide eyes - as much as you wanted an office to call your own, the idea of actually having one terrified you. 

“Nonsense, I've read all of your reports and I can tell you’re going to have a bright future here.” Roxy stated as she threw her hair over her shoulder, “Besides, Jake has reassured me that you’re an amazing lawyer. I trust whatever words come out of that young gentleman’s mouth. I’ve actually got to get back to work with Sarah on this domestic-violence case, so I’m trusting that Christina here will show you the ropes.” 

You could feel your anxiety rising back up as she squeezed your shoulder and gave you a gentle pat. Watching in amazement as she whisked away with ballerina feet and was giving out animated ‘Hellos’ to everyone that came across her path. The sound of someone clearing their throat behind you made you turn around at lightning speed - to find the brunette haired woman that was once sitting, now towering over you. 

“Hi!” 

“Hello, I’m y/n by the way.” You gave a small wave. 

“Oh I know. Everyone’s been talking about your arrival.” The lady in front of you wiggled her eyebrows to let you know that she was speaking in a joking manner. “I’m Christina. You can call me ‘Ina.” 

“Ina?” 

“Yeah! Everyone around here calls me that.” 

As you were talking to Christina you could feel all the tension in your chest starting to melt away. Maybe I will fit in here. 

“Oh duh, set your stuff down. Let me be the first to give you the grand tour.” 

After you set your stuff down, you felt yourself being yanked from your current spot by the woman linking her elbow with yours and tugging you along with her. You tried to pay attention to everything she was telling you but you couldn’t help but to be distracted by the way she talked. She was very animated, joyful and loved to use her hands while talking - flailing them around with exaggeration as she pulled you along explaining who your coworkers were. 

“And that’s about it.” Christina came to a stop as you two were standing in the middle of the breakroom - a room where she claimed you would find noone and this was the place to go to when you need a break away from people. 

“Any questions?” 

“I do actually have one.” You bit your lip, wondering if you should be asking anything, but there was this one little thought that kept bouncing in your head and it wouldn’t stop until you asked. 

“Fire away.” 

“So why’s Sarah leaving?” You paused as you watched her brown eyebrows shoot up her forehead - giving the tiniest bit of wrinkles. “I mean…it’s not because of me, right? I know there were some strings pulled to get me in here and I don’t want anyone to think I'm stepping on anyone’s toes, because I swear I'm not. I don’t want to be here if peo-” 

“Let me stop you right there okay? Has anyone ever told you that you ramble too much?”

Christina let out a light chuckle as your cheeks turned a dark red, thinking back to all the times Jake would smile at you, give you a peck and tell you ‘you’re rambling again’ every time you would start to over think. 

“I’ve been told once or twice.” You meekly replied looking down at the floor. 

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, it’s cute.” If your cheeks weren’t red enough before, they definitely were now. “And no, Sarah’s not leaving because of you starting. She’s pregnant and ready to pop in the next month or so. She has no desire to come back. Something about her wanting to be a stay at home mom.” 

“Oh, okay…”

“Stop worrying, plus, I have some exciting forms for us to fill out .” Christina threw her arms out and wagged her fingers in an excited manner. “Turn that frown upside down, it won’t be that bad.” 

Looping her arm with yours, she directed the two of you back to your cubicles. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Psst. You have a visitor.” 

Ina whispered to you, her brown eyes widening as she looked behind you - following her gaze you found none other than the long haired man that has been occupying your thoughts all day. He gave you a smirk as he met your eyes, keeping his hands in his pockets as we walked towards you. 

Fuck he looks good. 

You could’ve sworn you were drooling as you took in the sight of him. Wearing a dark brown suit with a cream button up, with all but three of the bottom buttons undone. You didn’t care how many people were in this room, you wanted him to bend you over your desk - right now. Clenching your thighs together to try to relieve some of the tension, you knew you were caught as his smirk turned into a grin - his eyes looking you up and down. 

“Hi baby.” Jake placed his hand on the back of your chair, leaning down to meet your lips with his. 

“Hi….what are you doing here?” 

“I can’t visit my girl at work?” 

“You can….just not on the first day.” You widened your eyes and shook your head slightly at Jake, hoping he would get the hint to leave.

“Well, I had to settle some business with Roxy and I explained to her that I needed to take you somewhere.”

“You need to take me somewhere right now? You couldn’t wait for me to get off work in,” You paused to look at the clock on the wall to your right, “two hours?” 

“He said it was urgent, go with him y’n.” Roxanne appeared out of thin air behind Jake - giving you a gentle smile to let you know that it was okay. 

“Roxan-” Trailing off as she shot you a pointed glare, “Roxy, I can’t possibly leave early. It is my first day after all. I still have so much work to do.” 

“Nonsense, Christina can take care of it, right Christina?” 

“Sure.” You turned around to look at Christina just to find her staring at Jake like a deer caught in headlights. 

“I can’t.” Shaking your head as Jake started reaching around you, picking up your purse and starting to place his hand under your elbow. 

“Y/n, everyone’s fine with it. Let’s go.” 

Knowing better than to argue with him when he uses that low register with you, you stood up and nodded to your boss and mouthed ‘thank you’ to Christina as Jake pulled you away. You jumped a little as you felt calloused hands running down your arm to meet your hand and interlocking his fingers with yours. 

“You could at least act like you like me back.” Jake mumbled to you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as you made your way over to the elevator. 

“Like you? I tolerate you.” You shot back at the man standing beside you - pulling you into the small space of the elevator, gasping as you felt  a sharp sting to your left ass cheek. 

“Watch yourself. After the stunt you pulled this morning? You’re on thin ice.” He whispered into your ear as he grabbed your ass roughly, making you gasp again and fall into him. 

“My stunt?” 

“Yes, showing up to your job late.”

“I would hardly call that a stunt.” 

“You didn’t show up on time to the job that I just so happened to reach my neck out to get you, and you can’t even show your face when you need to or give me a thank you. What would you call that? I’m curious.” Jake spoke with anger, flaring his nostrils at you. 

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” 

Jake didn’t say anything back. Instead, he opted to lead the two of you out of the elevator, through the building and dragging you toward the familiar black Jeep. You’ve only been in it a couple of times, mostly when Jake preferred driving instead of having Taylor chauffeur him around.

“Where are we going?” You questioned Jake as he opened up the passenger side door, pushing you into the seat. “Excuse me, I asked where are we going?” Instead of replying, he reached over to pull the seat belt over you, making sure to hear the click before pulling it tightly against your lap. 

“Ja-” 

“Would it kill you to stop asking questions?” 

“Yes, it would.” You turned your head to be met with his face right by yours, him looking at you with a stone cold expression. 

“Looks like you’ll be dead soon then.” 

Jake gave your thigh a pat before hopping down the car and making his way over to the driver side. As if he knew you were going to ask him where you were going to question him again, he turned the radio up, the sound of Reignwolf blasting through the speakers and filling your ears to the max capacity. Looking over at him, he was wearing those circle sunglasses that you loved, you remember the day he bought them, he facetimed you while he was in the story - wanting to get your opinion. 

It was at least a thirty minute drive before Jake exited off the highway, looking outside of the windows you were in an area you haven’t been in before. Your friends would always call this the ‘rich mall’, where only the people who knew they were able to spend thousands on the drop of a dime would be here. Waiting until the car was in park, you reached over to turn the music off, smiling at Jake as he turned to you with arched eyebrows. 

“Shopping? You’re taking me shopping?” 

“What’s so wrong with that?” 

“You just needed to take me out of work so you could take me shopping?” You blinked your eyes at him several times, not understanding what he was getting at. 

“So you can go shopping with Beth but you can’t go shopping with me?” 

“That’s not what this is about and you know that.” 

“I know it’s kind of last minute…but there’s a work dinner tomorrow night and you’re coming with.” 

“A work dinner?” 

“I didn’t stutter.” Jake tore his eye contact away from you for a second to reach into his glove box to pull out the wallet that he put in there before he started driving. 

“Why do I have to go?”   

“I’m sorry, did you prefer to go with Danny instead?” 

Danny? Your mouth parted open as you processed the question Jake had asked you. 

“Danny? Your friend Danny?”

He didn’t answer you - just gave you a blank stare back. The silence was deafening. 

“What is up with everyone thinking I want Danny?” 

“Who’s everyone?”

“Beth, Landyn, you. I don’t get it.”

“What the hell am I supposed to think when I find out you’ve been texting him and returning his phone calls, while I have to sit for what seems like hours for you to return a single one of mine!” Jake exclaimed, shaking his head almost as if he was trying to calm himself down. 

“Jake..”

“Don’t say it condescendingly. Do not.”

“Jake, I can assure you there’s nothing going on with Danny. I see him as a friend…your friend. He’s just easy to talk to a-”

“And I’m not?” Jake’s face flashed in pain before it quickly disappeared to be covered up by a hard exterior. 

“No….I’m just scared the more I talk to you..the more I’ll get attached.” You whispered out facing the window - not finding it within yourself to look at him as you made your confession. 

“Hey, look at me.” You felt fingers tugging on your jaw, making you move your head to face the softened expression of the man beside you. 

“Thank you for being honest with me… I don’t want you to be scared of getting attached okay? I’m not going anywhere, understand?” Jake paused briefly to search your eyes to make sure you were taking in everything he was saying. “I’ll try to stop letting Danny bother me. I’m a jealous person, I’ve got to work on it. But, I’m trusting your word on this.” 

“Jake… I swear.” 

He leaned forward to give you a soft peck on the lips - pulling away before you had the chance to deepen it. 

“If you’re done being a pain in my ass, I would love to take you in there and spoil you. That sound like something you can deal with?”  

“Okay.” You started giggling as Jake cracked a smile. 

“Good…besides, you can’t meet Mr. Costello in a plain outfit.” 

No fucking way. Your mouth fell open in shock, staring at him wide eyed.

“What?” 

“You’re taking me to a dinner where Mr. Costello the leader of the fucking mob is hosting?” 

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[fkinavocado]

put a price on emotion

The Honourable Judge Styles has a dark secret. He prides himself on being notorious for his cutthroat sense of justice. But is he really any better than the ones he imprisons? Or is he a victim much like the ones he acquits?

Put a price on emotion - Masterlist, Author’s Notes & Warnings 

Prologue (important part to the story so please make sure you read the prologue first!) / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 1 (word count: 3.5k)

Harry knew this was one of the last cases he’d be presiding in Chicago. He never stayed in one place for more than 2-3 years at a time. Sure the paperwork was gruelling but he preferred it over having to be stuck in the same place for too long. 

He also couldn’t stay, even if he wanted to. It was only that long until people started figuring out that this judge wasn’t exactly… ageing.

So every decade or so, Harry had to not only switch states/ countries (that he did every few years), but take up a whole new identity, from scratch. He’d build a stellar career from scratch. He’d done it, time and again. Luckily, he knew how to work the ropes to make it seamless. But it was tiresome, for sure. He’d always kept his given name, switching up his surname. The bar exam was child’s play at this point.

He wondered how long till he’d grow tired of this, too. Before being a judge, he’d been a crime investigator. That had lasted for well over 50 years. He was getting close to that number again, presiding over cases. 

He didn’t know if he’d pick it up again after Chicago, or if it was time to switch it up again. He’d decided to take a bit of time off to see where “life” took him next.

He mulled over all of this back in his chambers, after he’d removed his cloak and lit up a cigarette. Nasty habit, to be sure, but since he couldn’t exactly develop lung cancer he figured, what’s the harm?

He’d taken a lover once that really didn’t like the smell- but she found it incredibly hot when he smoked, and with her out of the picture there really wasn’t any reason not to indulge from time to time. He of course couldn’t develop an addiction to nicotine, either.

What he did have an addiction for, to his dismay, was blood. He could go for a long time without it nowadays, but still he needed to get his fill soon, he could feel it. 

Usually, if he was really busy, he’d resort to blood bags. Ever the walking cliche, he had a friend working in a hospital that provided him with the necessary amount should he need it. 

But that was a last resort kind of situation. Because as much as Harry disliked most of what being a vampire entailed, he did enjoy the thrill, the chase, the very laborious ritual of preying on his next victim, seducing them and then having them succumb to his charm.

Because, yes, Harry seduced his victims. He didn’t like calling them that, but he supposed it was a morally grey area that he’d needed to make amends with early on in his “existence”. He’d battled with feelings of guilt for the longest time, but he came to realize that the only person he was hurting in doing so was himself.

His victims were never aware of what he was using them for. He’d feed from them without them ever knowing. Sometimes these victims were one night stands, sometimes they were lovers like the woman who lowkey liked his smoking. 

But he never got serious with anyone, for obvious reasons. Just because his heart wasn’t beating anymore didn’t mean he didn’t have one still.

And if he was being honest with himself, nobody really did it for him anymore. He could see things much more clearly as a vampire, could see things for what they were, and most of the time, things just weren’t that great up close as they appeared to be from a distance. He grew tired of his lovers, bored even, and he knew it was unfair to them, but he had so much more life experience, so much more wisdom and emotional maturity that it made it hard finding someone that would intrigue him anymore. How could he ever expect someone with a few decades under their belt to ever match up to his centuries?

Thankfully, that didn’t really get in the way of his sex life. Because that, he could never tire of. Centuries of experience didn’t dampen his libido, if anything, it kept fueling it. 

Harry enjoyed being good at what he did. Be it in the courtroom, or the bedroom. He also enjoyed being in charge. Notice a pattern, there? 

He didn’t feed from all his sexual partners. He always saved it for particularly enticing lovers, nowadays. Because he always drank from them in the throes of climax, after he’d made them come over and over again, he’d finally give in and absolutely loved combining his delayed release with the sweet nectar his partners provided him, particularly after flooding their bloodline with endorphins. It was the biggest high.

He sighed, returning to his notes he’d taken that afternoon, thinking to himself he’d probably have to resort to his friend at the hospital this time around. He just hadn’t found anyone… biteable, as of late. 

He wasn’t the kind of vampire to just feed off of anyone, he wasn’t a brute, after all. He had his standards.

But his ability to stay focused was starting to decline. He knew the telltale signs all too well by now. He needed to feed in order to operate at a functional level, ideally at an efficient level.

The way he had to make a conscious effort to focus on the notes and not let his mind wander off was quite telling. He kept thinking about the young woman, and how he was worried she’d sabotage her own case with her apparent dismissal of her attorney’s advice. 

It was a simple case of self defence. If she played her cards right, she’d make it easy for him to issue the verdict in her favour.��

But why did he have a feeling it wasn’t going to be that easy?

Even if he was planning on going under the radar soon, he still couldn’t issue a verdict that would be, at least apparently, unjust. And if she didn’t heed her attorney’s advice, it just might be the case.

He decided to call it a day and head home. He’d see what he could make of it all after the next hearing, when the young woman would testify and also some eye witnesses would take the stand.

He did stop by a bar he frequented on the way. Just on the off chance someone caught his eye. No luck, though.

He decided to give it a few more days before he called his friend at the hospital. He could muster through, he knew he could.

Or was it that he tricked himself into thinking he could? Was it maybe that he’d had his eye on someone all along, and therefore automatically excluded all the other possibilities? 

And maybe it was deeper than that? Maybe he should’ve paid more heed to what others have always warned him of? Sometimes it wasn’t as simple as it seemed. 

Sometimes bonds were formed. 

*

“Defense counsel, you may present your case.” 

The young woman’s attorney nodded to the judge. “I call Grace Gwyneth Cohen to the stand.”

Grace walked to the witness stand and the bailiff approached her as she was about to be seated. “Raise your right hand. Do you solemnly swear that the testimony you are about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

“I do.”

“State your name.”

“Grace Gwyneth Cohen.”

“Miss Cohen, let’s go way back,” her lawyer approached the bench and the young woman listened intently. Harry noted she seemed a bit more likely to cooperate with her attorney today, which pleased him. It would make his job infinitely easier. “First, let’s get an idea about why you were at this bar to begin with. A lovely young woman such as yourself, surely you don’t find yourself in such dingy places normally…”

“Objection! Irrelevant.”

Harry raised an eyebrow to the plaintiff. The defence hadn’t even started yet and already this guy was breathing down his neck. “Sustained.”

Grace’s attorney turned his attention back to his client, continuing “And even if you did frequent this sort of establishments, that doesn’t have to mean anything, of course. I’m just saying, it’s not your usual scene, is it?”

“I guess not.”

“You only went that night because you were meeting up with someone you’d met online, is that correct?”

“Yes. A client.”

Harry didn’t miss the attorney’s deadpan. This was surely not the way he had intended it to go. “A client. Let’s go over what you do for a living, then, shall we, Miss Cohen?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a sex worker. Is that correct?”

“No.”

Harry took note of the attorney’s clenched jaw once more. 

“What would you call what you do, then?”

“I’m not really sure, but I’m no prostitute.”

“Sex workers aren’t prostitutes. There’s a wide foray of services that fall under that category but don’t include an actual sexual act. Let’s see if what you do falls under this category. I believe the proper term would be that you’re a “cam girl”, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Which basically means, you record yourself for a paying audience, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you undress for your audience?”

“Depends.”

“How so?”

“Well if you’re asking if I’m ever in the nude, then the answer is no. I don’t ever take off all my clothes. I tease them a little, but there’s never been any nudity.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. How she ever got people to actually watch without her ever fully undressing was intriguing. Not to mention earn a living out of this.

“Do you only get undressed with clients you meet up with?”

“No.”

“Wasn’t this why you were meeting up with this client at the bar that night?”

“That’s what he thought was going to happen. In reality, I was planning to string him along for a bit, hopefully get him to give me some money in the hopes that I would give him more than he saw of me online.”

“Is this your only source of income?”

“At the moment, yes, because I’m a student. My curriculum doesn’t leave me with enough time even for a part time job with a fixed schedule. So I have to… freelance. I tried a number of remote jobs before I opened my onlyfans. I get to keep my anonymity, I never show my facial characteristics online, I get to make up my own schedule depending on what little free time I have and so I thought… it wouldn’t hurt to at least give it a try. I didn’t expect for anyone to chip in considering I don’t even fully undress, but surprisingly, I do have people stream my live shows. I haven’t really had time this month to stream, because I’ve had exams to study for. So money was tight. This guy was in my inbox begging for me to meet up with him. Again… I had no intention of actually going all the way with him, at most I thought maybe I’d earn a free meal out of it. I didn’t want to offer a private show for him instead either, didn’t want to risk leaving any digital footprints… I deliberately chose that pub, it’s a crowded place on a Saturday night. Figured it would be… safe.”

“But it wasn’t safe, was it, Miss Cohen? Going back to the night in question. You had set up a meeting with one of your online clients. Had any promises been made beforehand as to what would happen during this meeting?”

“I’d vaguely alluded to the possibility of more happening, but no promises had been made, no.”

“Would you mind giving us a rundown of what happened, exactly, at the bar?”

“Of course. I met up with him at the Silver Church, on the evening of the 27th of July, at 8. He said his name was Dave, and that he’d be waiting for me at the bar. When I greeted him, I immediately had an unsettling feeling about him, but I still tried to play the “date” to my advantage somehow and try and see if I could milk some money off of him. I flirted with him but never agreed to go back to his place like he kept insisting. Eventually, I asked him for some money and told him I’d be buying a lingerie set to wear on my next live stream, just for him, and consider going out with him again. He didn’t seem to like that very much, but he did give me the money, eventually. He kept insisting he’d take me back to his place even though I’d made it clear I wouldn’t be doing that, yet. I wasn’t ever planning on going through with it, of course, but I was leading him on. I don’t know if he figured out I was playing him, but he then insisted he’d walk me home. Which of course, was out of the question. I realized he wasn’t going to take no for an answer and I excused myself to use the lady’s room, but in reality, I was looking for a backdoor exit. I figured I’d already gotten my money, and that if I wanted to get rid of him now would be the time to try and make a run for it.

“I made a beeline for an exit I’d spotted at the other side of the bar when I thought he wasn’t looking, and I thought I’d been pretty stealthy and quick, but somehow he caught up to me. Before I knew it, he was right there behind me in that back alley, no one else in sight. I was expecting him to ask where I was going, something of that nature, but instead he outright attacked me!”

“What did you do then?”

“I, well– I don’t remember.”

“Would you say the assault made you lose conscience?”

“Yes, he pounced on me, and bit me –”

“And would you say you hit your head when he jumped you?”

“Yes, but–”

“So you don’t remember defending yourself?”

“Well, no. No, I don’t.”

“That's all. I have no further questions.”

Harry sensed the attorney’s irritation, and how the defendant clearly wanted to say more. He hoped, again, that for her sake she’d not walk right into the trap the plaintiff was no doubt setting up for her. “Plaintiff's counsel, do you have any cross-examination of this witness?”

“Yes, your honour. Miss Cohen, I couldn’t help but notice how you wanted to say something when your attorney so rudely interrupted.”

“Objection!”

“Sustained. Your point, plaintiff?”

“Just trying to get the full picture, here, your honour. Going back to the night of the murder, Miss Cohen. You mentioned Mr. Montgomery attacked you. Bit you, I believe is the term you used. Why would a grown man bite you? Wouldn’t there be other alternative ways, more effective ways of stopping you from leaving the club?”

“That’s what I thought as well. I was shocked by his action, I was expecting him to force himself on me but he went straight for my neck and bit… hard.”

“Why do you suppose he’d do such a thing”

“Objection!”

Harry sighed, knowing he had no choice but to let her get to her point. He already knew what she was going to say, by the look in her eyes. 

The same terror he’d seen in them that fateful night.

“Overruled.”

Grace had gone pale, her gaze had zoned out. Eventually she spoke out, her voice shaking, not at all similar to the tone she’d accustomed the court thus far. “It’s because… because he was… a vampire.”

The court gasped in unison in shock, and Harry had to exercise his gavel for the first time that evening. “Order! Order in the court!”

The judge had to insist on reinstating decorum and then the plaintiff resumed. “A… vampire. Just for the record, Miss Cohen. Your statement is that Mr. Montgomery was a vampire?”

She nodded reluctantly. “I know how this sounds. I know! But he didn’t just bite me… no, he… his eyes, his clear blue eyes turned pitch black. In the blink of an eye. When he lunged at me, his fangs were… on full display. It was only a fraction of a second before he lunged at me, but there was no mistaking what I saw. Trust me, his canines were perfectly normal over at the bar. So were his eyes. And the pain… the piercing pain he inflicted when his fangs tore the skin on my neck… I can still feel it sometimes. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

Harry watched as she instinctively brought her nimble fingers to the side of her neck, tracing the skin there. 

The plaintiff cleared his throat, barely masking his amusement. “What happened then, Miss Cohen? Did he drink your blood?”

“Objection! Leading question!”

“I… like I said, I don’t remember. He tackled me to the ground. I must’ve either hurt my head or just passed out from the… assault.”

“So… you don’t remember fighting back.”

“No.”

“How do you explain the state in which the two of you were found then?”

“I… don’t know…”

“For the record, a member of the club’s staff was taking out the trash in the back alley when he stumbled upon what appeared to be two people lying on the ground. One of them severely injured. And that person wasn’t you. No, Miss Cohen, when the ambulance arrived they performed a thorough physical examination both on site and later at the hospital, and concluded you weren’t injured. In fact they couldn’t find so much as a scar on you.”

The court gasped in unison again and the judge gave them a warning look without having to use the gavel.

“Mr. Montgomery, on the other hand, wasn’t as lucky. He was declared dead, killed by a puncture to his heart inflicted by a switchblade.”

“Order!”

Grace watched as if in slow motion how the people in the court switched from looking at her with curiosity to giving her accusatory glances, and she couldn’t help but let tears well up in her eyes. She faintly heard the judge’s gavel but not even that could steady her beating heart. She had pleaded not guilty at the counsel of her attorney, but the truth was… she didn’t know what the truth was.

She must’ve been in shock, her memory of the incident completely blocked as a defence mechanism or something. The last thing she remembered was hitting the ground, the vampire hovering over her. She definitely did not remember stabbing him, hell, she’d never even seen that switchblade before. She’d have recognized it if it was hers. She did carry a pepper spray but she of course had no chance to retrieve it, the guy had been on her within the blink of an eye, his morphed features shocking her into a frozen stupor. 

Initially she thought she might have done it in self defence, and the shock was just blocking her memory of it. But then the lab concluded that her fingerprints weren’t on the switchblade. In fact, it had been wiped clean. 

She couldn’t fathom ever going through the trouble of doing all that, and not flee the scene of the crime at least if she was trying to conceal her actions.

Nothing added up. The rest of the interrogation was a blur. She was taken back into custody until the next hearing. Back in her cell, but somewhere nicer than where she was headed- she was always reminded by whomever escorted her there.

She was left alone with her thoughts yet again, back to staring at those barren walls and trying to make sense of all that was happening to her, trying to make peace with the fact that this was probably what the rest of her life would be like.

Harry was staring at a much different wall, a wall decorated in all his accolades and honorary achievements back in his chambers. But he had the same thing on his mind.

This was unjust, and the feeling made his skin crawl. He wasn’t used to such a feeling. The only time he’d felt that before was when he’d been robbed of his own life, just like Grace was getting robbed of hers. 

He kicked his feet off his desk and grabbed his briefcase, deciding to head home. His hand hovered over the light switch, pausing before he finally left.

He’d find a way, but it just might be that it would have her live in limbo for the rest of her life, not unlike himself.

A/N: hints and smoke and mirrors, aka a slow burn cuz y'all know me 😅

beta’d by the lovely @adorebeaa ❤️

💕 like & reblog if you’re enjoying this, lovelies, and most importantly, please come share your thoughts on it here 💌

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#harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles vampire #vamprry #judgerry #vampirerry #harry styles writing #harry styles judge #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #harry styles #fkinavocado #put a price on emotion

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Yuri on Ice aka Yuuri's free programme would never have been possible without the beach scene.

In the beach scene, Yuuri opens up to Viktor for the first time. While they have been unintentionally working against each other until that point (exuberant flirting from Viktor and Yuuri trying to avoid him), the conversation on the beach brought them on the same page. That conversation has reassured Yuuri that Viktor's motives and feelings towards him are sincere and he starts feeling safe enough to open up.

Which leads right to the next scene where Yuuri sits in his room and decides to open up more as he contacts the music student who composed the programme his former coach Celestino rejected.

Now fast-forward to Yuuri and Viktor creating Yuuri's new free programme:

Yuuri's free programme is about his skating career. But it's so much more than that. Yuri on Ice also tells the story of Yuuri and Viktor, expressed through the piano (Yuuri) and the violin (Viktor). At 0:55 min, which is quite early in the programme, the violin joins and it dominates the song. This part represents Viktor becoming his coach. (The entire song is 3:41 min, note that a free programme was 4:30 min at the time YOI aired, and that the creators shortened the songs due to time constraints).

Yes, that's right: Most of the story told in Yuuri's free programme, Viktor is Yuuri's coach. Yuuri's programme that is supposed to be about his life as a skater paraphrases his entire career so far in 55 seconds and then tells the story of Yuuri and Viktor.

Then there's this part in the middle where the violin falls silent and the piano slows down as Yuuri has a realisation about love. When the music picks up speed again, the violin re-joins, but instead of doing its own thing now it's support the piano, which can be interpreted as Yuuri and Viktor now being a team, Yuuri and Viktor being lovers (hence, the realisation about love), Yuuri and Viktor staying together (the instruments playing together until the end, these a nuance of Stammi Vicino in that imagery). To be precise, there are many interpretations as this song can be applied to every episode where Yuuri skates it.

Now, as Viktor is Yuuri's coach and choreographer, Yuuri needs to explain to him what he wants to express with this song, so that Viktor can turn this into choreography. Yuuri needs to explain what the instruments mean and how this translates into his story. I can only imagine how embarrassing this must have been for him, even though he has already decided to open up more--it's still an effort he must do and which will become easier the more often he does it. But that first time when he had to explain all this to Viktor, yes that must have been super awkward. He might have tried to water down some parts of the story because he couldn't voice them at this time, then, as Viktor kept prying because it didn't seem to fit the music, gradually had to disclose more.

And Yuuri had to explain all of this to that music student as well so that she could compose the song accordingly, and he had to do this AFTER that first awkward experience when he commissioned a song that got shelved.

Without Yuuri realising that opening up isn't a bad thing, that it's okay to make yourself vulnerable to people who don't judge you and don't see you as weak, nothing of this would have ever happened. Yuuri learning that Viktor is a safe person to be vulnerable with because Viktor is dedicated to give Yuuri his full support and that his goal isn't to get Yuuri laid but that his feelings for Yuuri are of a serious nature ("that's my way of showing my love"), is the start of Yuuri becoming confident and that enables him to create not just his first free programme on his own but a free programme that expresses the different kinds of love he is feeling, most of all his love for Viktor.

If you enjoy my meta posts, please consider giving my blog a follow or checking out my works on AO3 (link in bio). You will find the results of my meta musings in there!

#yuri on ice #yoi meta #my yoi meta #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikiforv

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Enticing (Broadchurch Drabble)

Alec Hardy x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: Alec comes home and ruins your anniversary surprise for himself.

CW: none? it's not smut, but there's lingerie and wandering eyes

Broadchurch tag list: @clarina04 @kaylinelizabeth4004 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

It was supposed to be a surprise for your anniversary. Alec was taking you out to dinner, and you were going to wear a pretty dress with pretty lace in Alec’s favourite colour and when you got home, you were going to sit him down on the edge of the bed, put some sexy music on and undress yourself, show him your pretty new lingerie (also in Alec’s favourite colour) and then ride him until he busted one inside you and wore himself out, the poor thing. 

But no. Your plans for the evening? Ruined. All thanks to the man himself. 

You’d wanted to make sure the lingerie fitted one more time before you started getting ready for your date night later and Alec decided that this was the one day in the history of his very long, very late career that he needed to come home early. During the daylight, no less. Had Hell frozen over? 

And so, he’d ruined the surprise for himself, wandering into the bedroom and seeing you in all your glory. He’d stopped short right in the doorway, mouth dropping open in shock. 

“Fuck- sorry,” he’d said at first, thinking he’d just wandered in while you were getting changed. But then he noticed the colour, the lace, the fit. “God, you look- stunning.” 

You deflated, arms dropping down to your sides. 

“Damn it, Alec- it was supposed to be a surprise. You didn’t knock. You didn’t even tell me you were coming home.” 

“I’m sorry, love,” he said, coming to stand before you. He raked his eyes up your form, and you took notice of the way his eyes dilated with lust. “Just nipped home f’er a wee snack. Forgot my lunch.” 

As far as explanations go, it was pretty poor. 

“Why didn’t you get something out?” 

“Don’t like the food ‘ere,” he said, lips curling distastefully. “Wanted- erm- some of last night's dinner.” 

Last night’s dinner was, in fact, pork ribs you’d made. Your speciality. Alec rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“I see,” you replied. “Well, you’re here now- what do you think?” 

You did a little twirl, squeezing your own hips and smoothing your hands over your barely covered skin. 

“Och, darlin’,” Alec says, stepping forward and running a hand up your side. “You’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

“Nuh-uh,” you tutted, stepping away from his exploratory hands. “You’ve had your sneak peek. Go on, get.” 

Alec frowned, giving you unintentional puppy eyes. 

“Don’t give me that look. You can unwrap your present when we get home from dinner.” 

Alec grumbled but didn’t protest too much after that. Though when you finally did make it to dinner, he seemed pretty eager to eat and get home.

In fact, you didn’t even get dessert. He insisted he had something far sweeter than anything that restaurant had waiting at home for him. 

How enticing. How could you say no to that?

#broadchurch s3 #broadchurch s2 #alec hardy x reader #alec hardy fanfic #alec hardy #broadchurch #david tennant #alec hardy fanfiction #alec hardy one shot #alec hardy imagine #alec hardy x you #alec hardy broadchurch #alec hardy fic #broadchurch fanfic #broadchurch alec hardy #broadchurch fanfiction #di alec hardy #alec hardy imagines #alec hardy drabble #alec hardy x reader insert #inside man #david tennant fanfiction #david tennant x reader #david tennant imagines #alec hardy x yn #alec hardy x gn!reader #alec hardy oneshot #bbc broadchurch #broadchurch show

[denimbex1986]

'...Mr. Arnold is tempted into the ball by a Doctor Who Annual and is playing the theme in the music shop scene – are you a fan of Doctor Who in real life? And what was it like making those jokes and references in front of the Tenth Doctor David Tennant?

“I’ve always dipped in and out of Doctor Who over the years since Sylvestor McCoy, who was doing it when I first became aware of it when I was growing up. Even if you’re not a fan it’s one of those shows you can’t really get away from, so doing that particular scene in front of David was really fun, and of course Douglas had directed Doctor Who as well. Apart from the amusing situation of two supposed Doctor Who fans talking about Doctor Who without realising they’re in the company of a Doctor Who, I also seem to remember Michael being the one to suggest that he would deliver his “due to problems at the BBC” line directly to David.

Oh, and I think it was actually my idea to grab the annual off the harpsichord before joining the queue behind Crowley at the end of the ballroom scene (which we’d shot weeks earlier at this point). When we were blocking it out and rehearsing I knew I had to leave my position and get to the front for my “surrender the angle” line, and then later it just felt like I wouldn’t leave without the annual so I ran back through everyone to grab it. Nobody seemed to have a problem with me doing that so I just carried on doing it when we shot it! I do remember it being a fun set with Douglas and the team being very open to suggestions.”

How did you balance filming both Good Omens and BBC Ghosts at the same time?

“Luckily both shows were a joy to work on, and everyone seems to know about both of them. We were shooting them in early 2022 and I also had a little part in an ITV drama called ‘Stonehouse’, starring Matthew Macfadyen. I usually never know when I’m working next so to have three great TV jobs at once was very unusual. There was all this date juggling and I actually almost had to turn down Ghosts due to clashes. Luckily both shows had to move some dates so it worked out. But yes, I spent two weeks up in Scotland shooting all that Good Omens ballroom stuff, then I came back down to London to do Ghosts, knowing I’d be back up to shoot my scenes in the music shop in a couple of weeks. Now, when I found out who was playing my wife in Ghosts I couldn’t believe it: Caroline Sheen – Michael Sheen’s cousin! She was amazing and that was another great set in general. I say “set”, but it’s all filmed in that house which surprised me. I’d worked with Kiell [Smith-Bynoe] and Jim [Howick] before, and Charlotte [Ritchie] was in the Good Omens radio play a few years ago and a big fan of the book. Charlotte’s very musical of course and we got talking about my folding keyboard I had for practising my Good Omens stuff, and she ended up setting it up in the house for us to have a play on!

Now, when we’d shot all our internal scenes there was this big storm forecast, and our external scenes were scheduled for the day of the storm, so that had to be moved into the next week. It meant I ended up shooting those scenes outside the house, then going straight back up to Scotland to shoot the Good Omens music shop scene the next day! When I mentioned to Michael I’d just worked with Caroline he said “ooh she’s in Ghosts is she!” and revealed that she’d texted him about me which was rather surreal. Then later after the Ghosts wrap party Kiell gave me a part in his Channel 4 Blap, so at the time I felt like I was killing it career wise, but the industry quietened a bit after that and my workload eased off over the year so I was in my overdraft by November.”

What are your plans for the future – can we expect to see you in something else soon?

“This year, after a bit of a quiet start, I was very fortunate to work on a Disney+ show called Rivals which stars… David Tennant! I think I’m allowed to say my character is called Brian, and I shot five episodes so that was another really amazing job, and great to work with David again (I told him he must be my good luck charm, although I hope he’s not sick of me). That should be out at some point in late 2024. Other than that I’ve filmed a few other bits I presume will be out next year, one of which is called Truelove on Channel 4 which actually looks really good. That starts early January. Of course now Season 3 of Good Omens has been greenlit, I would love Neil and the gang to have me back on that… but I can only keep my fingers crossed!”

#Rich Keeble #Ghosts #Mr. Arnold #Good Omens #Doctor Who #Michael Sheen #David Tennant #Neil Gaiman #Stonehouse #Matthew McFayden #Rivals #Disney+ #Truelove #Jim Howick #Caroline Sheen #Charlotte Ritchie #Kiell Smith-Bynoe #Sylvester McCoy

[neymarsangel]

Ballgowns and Galas - Neymar Jr x reader

Neymar Jr x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No: i would absolutely love a ney imagine where he and the reader (perhaps an actress or a singer) used to date during his early fame. they truly loved each other, but broke up eventually due to certain issues. as the years go by, they both date other people to get over the horrible breakup (all attempts ended up failing, they're still pining over each other 💀) so flash forward after a few years, ney and reader happen to meet at a gala / party bcs they were both invited. imagine the TENSION between them.. like "oh okay you're there and i'm here and this is all really happening"- that ended up really long </3 ILY AUTHOR your works truly have mesmerized ♡

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, implied smut

Word Count: 4.4K

AN: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long my loves, I’m back with all the fics you could ever want to request <3

—

Neymar was the ex-boyfriend you knew would never leave your mind. The two of you had dated when he quickly rose to fame but things, unfortunately, fell apart. Your career started to take off, you’d been contacted by major film directors and before you knew it you were in a different country every week with a camera in your face. No matter how much either of you tried to move on from one another it was always unsuccessful. Being an actress you were always swarmed by dating rumours, whether it was a co-star or just your assistant and Neymar kept track of every single one of them. 

Since the two of you split you two hadn’t spoken to one another and you hadn’t gone to any of his games. You used to turn up every week, whether he was playing for his country or his club but now the seat you once sat on was cold and it had been for many years. Although that wasn’t to say you didn’t care about him. You would still keep up with his matches, silently cheering for him every single minute. Your heart broke whenever he was injured or when he lost a match that clearly meant the world to him but you hid your feelings, the two of you were on different paths now. 

Little did you know Neymar was the same. He let as many girls as he could fling themselves towards him in an attempt to get over you but he was always unsuccessful. Sure he’d had a few relationships which had been very public but they never lasted, his head always drifted off to you no matter how much he tried to forget. Much like you with his football he always made an effort to watch what you were starring in, whether it was a period drama or a heartfelt rom-com. He would always wake up in the early hours of the morning to watch any award show you were featured on and although it killed him to see you smile without him he also knew he’d rather you be happy without him than you be upset whilst you were beside him. 

You’ve been in the news a lot recently due to your new project. Top Gun: Maverick was taking the world by storm, especially tiktok so it was no wonder why you and your co-stars were invited to attend. You were staring alongside Miles Teller and not to mention Tom Cruise, both men constantly praising your performance which landed you several calls from big Hollywood directors. 

“Excited for tonight?” Your hair stylist, Nat asked as she began her magic on her head. “A few people of interest are going tonight…” She smirked at your reflection in the mirror before her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You looked up from your phone, your eyes meeting her curious ones. 

“Well, there are some good-looking guys there… Harry Styles… Micheal B Jordan…. maybe if you get with one of them tonight you’ll finally stop crying over your ex.”

“ I don’t cry over Neymar!” You whipped your head around to give her a glare. “We split apart years ago.”

“And yet you too still make the headlines alongside one another.” She turned your head back to the mirror. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign for what?”

“To get back together.”

“A second ago you were telling me to fuck another man to get over him even though I am over him, it’s been years.” You lied and she knew it. Your heart would always stay with him no matter how many years went by.

She shrugged, the smirk on her lips still planted on her face. “The world works in mysterious ways y/n.” Rolling your eyes at her you went back to your phone, texting your co-stars who were attending the gala with you. 

The charity gala always brought in those who always hit the headlines, whether they were from the world of sports, fashion, music or film, or anyone you could think of. The event consisted of celebrities wearing their most expressive clothes whilst they paraded around a red carpet for all the photographers to see. They’d make their way inside and gaze at all the charity items up for auction before sitting down for a meal. After the food the auction would begin before it eventually ended with most celebrities getting drunk and regretting the money, they’d spent. 

“You look beautiful…” Your stylist smiled as you smoothed down your y/f/c gown. The dress hugged your body like a glove, showing off every curve you had. Smiling at her compliment you kept your eyes on the outfit. 

“You have really outdone yourself with this.” You turned around to face her, your smile beaming brighter. “Thank you…”

“Anything for Hollywood's favourite star.” She mirrored your expression, walking over to you and giving you a few last-minute touch-ups before the car came to take you to the event. 

—

The flashing lights of the paparazzi blinded you the second you stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet, your name being called in every direction filled the air as you flashed a smile towards the cameras. Your head darted to the side to catch a glimpse of the other celebrities who were walking off towards the exhibition. 

After posing for a few more photos you started to make your way down the carpet when a sudden loud noise grabbed your attention. Loud screams grabbed your attention as all the photographers suddenly turned their attention to the person who was leaving the car. The sudden commotion also caught your attention but unlike everyone else, you weren’t screaming for joy at who had left the car. Within seconds, you were making eye contact with your ex-boyfriend for the first time in years.

Of course, Neymar was here.

Your heart was in your throat at the sight of him. 

You hadn’t seen him in person since the day the two of you parted but there he was, standing right before you, his eyes burning into yours. You ripped your attention away from him, knowing that even that small yet longing glance would cause headlines and a surge of attention onto the two of you online. Your eyes searched for an escape and you found one in an interviewer. Her name was Madaline, and she always attended premiers and a few other galas you’d been invited to so a familiar face was all that you needed to put some distance between you both. 

“Madaline, hey!” You called to her whilst she checked her phone, the copper-haired girl looked up at you, a smile bright on her face as she caught your gaze.

“Y/n! Oh my God, you look stunning!” The pair of you embraced as if you were old-school friends. “You up for an interview?” 

“Of course!” Returning the smile your eyes darted over to Neymar who was now posing for photos before looking back at her as she handed you a microphone.

“Ready?” 

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, pushing Neymar to the back of your mind before focusing on the questions at hand. 

“Your dress is absolutely stunning, who designed it?” 

“Everything was made by the genius that is Vivienne Westwood.” You smiled, looking down at y/f/c dress which sparkled in the light. “Even the jewellery.” You gestured to the diamonds hanging from your neck. 

“It’s beautiful. And I see you have a small charm on your bracelet.” She pointed to the band around your wrist which had a small diamond plane hanging from the metal. The charm was a small added touch from Westwood representing one of the biggest films you’d been in this year. 

“Oh yes,” You held it up for her to see. “It was another one of Westwoods touches.”

“Does it come with a mini Tom Cruise inside of it?” She asked, a light laugh escaping her lips. You followed her laughter before letting your hand fall to your side. 

“If only it did.”

“I do have another question…” 

“Ask away.” 

“You and a certain co-star were getting rather close in Top gun… Miles Teller I believe it was.” 

Rumours had been flying all over the place when the two of you were filming despite the fact that he had a wife, a woman you’d met and grown rather close to during the many months of filming and even though you’d been seen with his wife many times in public and behind closed doors, fans still speculated that the pair of you had a fling going on. 

“I can assure you that nothing is happening between the two of us, he has a wife and -”

“Do you have someone?” Her brows arched yet she had a hesitant expression on her face, worrying that you’d snap at her invasive questions. 

“No, I do not.” 

“But are you looking?” She dared to ask more. 

“Love will come to me when it’s ready.” You replied, not wanting to talk too much especially as your ex was closing in on you. “And until then I’ll spend my evenings with a glass of wine and my cat.” 

The pair of you shared one last laugh before she bid you goodbye. This time you didn’t dare look back at him, your heart was pounding after those last questions, thankful she never touched on the subject of Neymar. You entered the large dimly light hall which was lined with numerous items which were to be bid off to you and other celebrities who were in attendance. 

Taking small elongated steps your eyes scanned every single item that was on display until your eyes fell on a large painting. The frame glistened as it kept the painted horse inside, allowing it to dance before your eyes yet never leave. The horse was rearing and with every blink, you could have sworn the animal grew in beauty. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A smooth voice you knew all too well floated through the air. 

“Ney…” You looked over at him as he stood beside you, his head turning to meet yours. 

“How are you y/n?” 

“You never come to things like this, your father always hated the idea of you spending tons of money at events like this.” You took in his features, his hair was different, last time the two of you shared a glance with one another he looked as if he was joining a boy band. He’d cut it shorter and he’d grown a slight beard, making him look older, more mature than he was back then. “Did you know I’d be here?”

“As welcoming as always y/n.” He gave you a warm smile. 

“Sorry I umm… It’s just been a while.” You looked away, your eyes focusing back on the painting before you. 

“Several years.” Neymar raised his hand, guiding your chin back to face him. “Too long y/n…”

Your heart melted at his words, it was no secret that you hung up on him and had been since you split. No man or anyone for that matter would ever be able to numb the pain of the pair of you falling apart. The tension between you both was building by the second, both of you high on the feeling of the two of you being back in the same room. 

“How’s Jareth?” He referenced the cat he gave you just before the two of you split. Only the week before the gala you posted a photo of you and the black cat when he was a kitten vs now for his birthday. He was getting old but he was one of the few things you still had to remind you of Neymar. Ney had watched you fall in love with the film Labrythn, especially David Bowie’s character, hence your cat's name. He knew you had to have your own little Jareth in the form of a cat. Since then you got Jareth a few siblings, naming all of them after fictional characters and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Neymar knew all their names.

“You know I never stopped watching your games.” His eyes softened at your words as you paused. His hands still lingered on your chin. “Do you know how hard it was to watch you get that injury in the world cup? Ney you nearly ended up paralysed-”

He smiled at your worry, the pair of you split just a few weeks before the World Cup, at first he just pushed it to the back of his mind to focus on the football but everything changed when he had his injury. When he was in the hospital all he could think of was how you used to take care of him every time he had the slightest graze or a career-threatening injury. He would often look over to the spare chair next to his bed and imagine your tired face making sure he was okay, much like you had done all those years ago. It was that day he realised how much he really did miss you and what you had wasn’t just some childish relationship. 

Neymar let his hand fall as he took a step towards you, his gaze never dropping from yours. “Why did we fall apart y/n?”

You scrunched your brows at him. “You know why, we fell apart, both our careers went in opposite directions and we never came back together, you moved on-”

“So did you.” He jumped in, eyeing you up as he spoke. 

“You could say that.” Shrugging you turned back to the portrait of the horse. You and Neymar both knew deep down that the pair of you never got over one another, in fact, the way the two of you were eyeing one another you wouldn’t be surprised if you just ripped off one another's clothes there and then. “But then so did you.”

His eyes followed yours as he became fixated on the painting before you both. “To an extent… I got used to you not being around, I never got used to the rest.” 

“Like?” 

He smirked as he spoke. He leant down, his lips hovering above your ear. “I never got used to the feeling of another woman around me, I always just wanted you… I never got used to the feeling of another woman's lips on me… you know y/n I got used to your presence not being beside me but I never got used to never feeling you again… do you know how many of your films and shows I’d watch and see you kissing another man and beg God to let me take his place?” 

Chills ran down your spine at his words before you replied. “You know you could have just messaged me, you know I’d let you come back into my life… with time.” 

“Time?” He whispered, a small laugh escaping his lips as he spoke. “I wasted too much time being away from you.”

“You can’t blame me for that -”

“When did I ever blame you, my love?” Neymar leant down, planting a kiss on your cheek from behind stepped away, his eyes glancing over at the painting you were once eyeing before he turned away and headed towards the hall for the event that was due to take place. 

Your heart dropped at the sight of him leaving. His words implied he would come back but with Neymar, you can never really be sure. Your eyes wandered back to the painting you once had your heart set on but not your heart was set back on him. The spark you once thought had died down had been ignited once again. The headlines would be slashing yours and his name as much as they could after your little interaction, but would you really go back to him? 

—

“I didn’t know he was here…” Your assistant who happened to be your best friend asked as she sat down beside you at your designated table. Her eyes glanced over to his table a mere few meters from yours before she spoke again. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” You set your glass down. “I wouldn’t have turned up if I knew.” 

That was a lie and you knew it. 

“Have you spoken to him?” Her gaze remained fixed on you. 

“Briefly -”

“And?”

“It was just small talk.” You lied again, this time taking a sip of the drink in front of you. “We haven’t spoken since we split and that was years ago. Just small talk and nothing more.”

She knew not to press on, after years of questioning you about Neymar she always knew deep down that the pair of you clearly had a small flame of love burning for one another but with the break-up being as public as it was she just kept her mouth shut. 

You could feel his eyes burning into you, wanting nothing more than to meet his soft gaze you flickered over to see if he was still watching but to your avail a booming voice caught everyone’s attention. “Welcome back everybody!” The host of the event announced. “It’s nice to see some familiar faces and some new ones.” His grey eyes wandered around the room. “Now we have some beautiful things up for auction tonight and I’m not getting any younger so let’s start, shall we?” A round of cheers danced through the room as items started to be dragged out onto the stage for the room to bid on.

The night dragged on, you laughed with your friends as you drank and watched everyone bid on their favourite items. You really had no interest in any of them other than the painting of the black horse from earlier. Before Neymar interrupted you your mind was imagining it proudly standing on the wall by your stairs. You’d been needing a piece to make the house feel more put together and that horse would frame everything perfectly. 

Despite the number of glasses before him, Neymar was only getting drunk on the sound of your laughter. He’d give anything to hear you laugh at his jokes one last time. Sure he knew he was pinned up on you when the two of you broke up but he never knew he’d crave you this badly after one short encounter. He wanted to leave, hating the idea of you being so close to him but he simply couldn’t have you, not yet anyway. His eyes shot up to the stage where he saw the large horse painting you were clearly in love with. He sparked up an idea… You’d either hate him for this idea or you’d love him for it but he was willing to take that chance. 

“And now… our final item is this beautiful hand-painted portrait of one of the world’s most stunning creatures. The bid will start at one thousand -” Before the man could even finish his sentence Neymar held his auction number in the air, giving a small nod to the man.

“I have one thousand do I hear two thousand?” 

Narrowing your eyes at your ex-boyfriend you held your own number up. He turned his head slightly, a smirk on his lips as he met the gaze of the man and held his own number up again. 

You knew what game he was playing and you weren’t going to let him win. 

The two of you went back and forth with each other, the pair of you never sharing a single thought about the amount of money you were spending on a simple painting but hey it was for charity so that doesn’t matter, right? 

“Oh come on y/n, you can’t bid that amount of money, it’s too much for that.” y/b/f complained, huffing in her seat at yours and Neymar’s childish antics. 

“He knows what he’s doing, he wants to get one more thing over me before the two of you actually call it quits.”

“So you’re telling me there’s still something there?” 

“y/b/f -” 

“Sold to the gentleman in black!” The announcer spoke, catching your attention. Whilst you and y/b/f had been arguing you’d forgotten to put your number up one last time meaning Neymar won the painting, it was all his. 

“Fucking prick.” You spat under your breath. The sudden lust you’d had now turned into loathing. He knew how much you wanted that painting and yet he still wouldn’t let you win, not even one last time. You finished up your drinks and left, wanting nothing more than to be with your cats, even if Neymar was responsible for buying the first one but unbeknown to you he had a plan, one that meant this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be seeing you. 

— 

A week had passed and there was no Neymar in sight unless you count the ongoing headlines about you both but that was something you refused to engage in. When you found yourself alone in bed you often wondered to his contact in your phone, debating if you should send him an angry text about him stealing the painting which clearly had your name written all over it but that would only feed into his ego. 

Currently, you were laying across your sofa, Jareth slowly falling into sleep on your chest as you read through your new script and let your hand smooth down his black fur. The small echo from the tv was the only noise in your house until the doorbell made poor Jareth jump in his spot. The elder cat let out a cry of a meow at the noise. Setting the script down you scooped the cat up and held him against your chest and crook of your neck, cooing at him as you opened the door. 

“It’s alright old man.” You kissed his head. “Probably just Jannet ordering some packages and isn’t in to collect them.” You referred to your neighbour as you met the eyes of a man you knew all too well. Neymar stood outside, a worried expression on his face which he tried to cover up with confidence. 

“y/n…”

“What do you want? And how do you know where I live?” Your brows furrowed at the sight of him. 

“y/b/f isn’t good at hiding secrets, you really need a better assistant.” 

“She does fine thank you.” Your words were filled with venom as you spoke. 

“You look, good old man.” He now turned his attention to the cat, a smile on his lips as he watched a familiar sight. “He looks good for his age.” 

“Because I take care of him.” Arching your brows at his words you leant against your doorframe. “Why are you here?” 

His smile dropped slightly at your words but his confidence attempted to shine through his demeanour. “I wanted to give you something.” He reached to the side and pulled out a large wrapped item from behind your wall. “I’m sorry -”

“For?”

“Everything. I fucked up. The pressure from this stupid sport should have never led me to losing you.” 

“And you think a wrapped gift is going to fix all of that?”

“No, but I hope it’s a start. I’ll fix this if you’ll work with me. We both know there’s something still there.” Your eyes met his hopeful ones. He had a point and if the two of you took things slowly and built on what you used to have you knew you could fall back into his arms, probably a lot faster than you wanted to admit. 

“Come in.” You held the door open wider for him, allowing him to drag the gift which was bigger than him through into your front room before closing the door. You placed Jareth on the counter before turning to watch Neymar place the gift on the floor, his eyes longing on yours as he rose and made his way over to you. 

“Please just open it.” 

You gave him a silent reply before shifting your body towards the gift. Neymar took his place where you once stood, next to Jareth whilst you kneeled down and slowly pulled the paper back to reveal the gift. All your anger filtered away when you were met with the eyes of the horse painting you once fell in love with at the gala. You started to connect the dots, he’d won that bid just as a way to see you again and make amends. Looking up your heart melted even further when you saw what he was doing.

When Jareth was a kitten Neymar used to cuddle him like he was a baby and rock him around like he was your child. Jareth used to always snuggle his head into Neymar’s side when he carried him like that and just like old times you watched as Jareth cuddled into Neymars side as he cooed him like a baby. 

“Ney…” 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like shit at the gala but I had to win it because I needed to see you again.”

“You know you could have just messaged me and asked to see me.” You stepped over the painting and walked towards him. 

“Not as romantic though, is it?” He smiled. “I know it’s been years but I want to try again. I never stopped loving you y/n, no matter who I was with I just wanted you. I still do. I know it’ll take time but I’m willing to wait a lifetime if it means I can spend even just a night with you.” 

“You always had a way with words Ney.” You leant up and kissed his cheek, your heart swelling at the sight of him and Jareth. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes were fueled with hope. 

“We get another cat.”

“I’ll buy you a whole island full of cats if it means you’ll give what we had a second chance.”

#neymar one shot #neymar fanfic #neymar imagines #neymar x reader #neymar x y/n #neymar x you #neymar fluff #neymar smut #neymar #neymar jr #football imagine #football fanfic #football #football x reader #football x y/n

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Seven

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): explicit content (18+), PTSD themes, canon-typical violence, slight gore, mentions of trauma, references parental death, grief, hurt/comfort but also hurt/nocomfort

A/N: should I write an epilogue? (not proofread) | Word Count: 3.2k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

Loose Ends

You dig out the packet from your pocket and slide it across Price’s desk.

“It’s all in the form, Sir.”

He takes it and flips through the pages, skimming the highlighted parts. “Stress leave? You’re sure about this, Private?” He flicks his eyes back up to you and raises a brow.

“Just a few months, until I can figure out my options. And I don’t want anyone to know about it, I don’t want it causing a fuss.”

“I understand.” You nod, relieved for it to be approved. You head for the door and place your fingers around the handle. You’re stopped by him speaking once more.

“You’ve done good work around here. I’m sure you’ll make a good decision.” You flash a friendly smile at Price, and then exit his office.

You’re happy to be back at the Safehouse where your career in the 141 first started, even though it came with plenty of ups and downs. 

El Sin Nombre is in custody, Hassan is dead. For the first time in months, the roster is clear—a perfect time to slip away.

—

You’re sitting in your barrack, gazing out the window at the secluded country around you. You yearned for the blissful ignorance people carried every day. The horrible things you and your coworkers see and protect everyday citizens from—it does something to you; it makes you look at things differently, even the beautiful scenery around you.

As your eyes are glued to the sky, the enjoyment is null. Your ears fill with the screams of innocents you heard in Chicago over and over again. It’s been a persistence ever since you returned, during any moment of solitude.

You needed out—a few months, maybe a year, and you’d be back in duty. Or maybe, you fulfill your contract and retire early.

A rapid set of knocks stirs you out of your thoughts, making you look up at the culprit. It’s Soap, leaning on the doorframe with a look of unease written on his expression.

“Price wants you. Something about that bastard Graves.” Before you can question it, he zipped down the hall to the meeting room.

Graves? As in, Philip Graves? He was presumed K.I.A. It’s always one problem after another, never seeming to end.

You stand yourself up and quickly follow in Soap’s footsteps, taking your usual spot next to him. Price barely waits for you to be seated before he begins his speech. His brows are tightened, his face is carrying a tension worse than when El Sin Nombre went silent.

“Graves' whereabouts are somewhere stateside, and he’s working with the Russians running some sort of Task Force of mercenaries.” You nearly fall out of the seat with the force of the shock. Russians? How has he flown under the radar so long?

Ghost shifts in his seat a bit, and his eyes grow cold. “Soap killed the bastard himself, how is that possible?”

“He’s had a plan in the works for months.” Price adds. “We need to stop his convoy coming in, and evacuate the civilians nearby.”

Goddammit. The last thing your psyche needed was more casualties weighing on you, especially in the hands of a traitorous con artist like Graves.

“We’re leaving the day after tomorrow. Stay sharp out there.”

—

Ever since the meeting about Graves, you’ve felt half-in-half-out. He was supposed to be dead, dead and gone, but he’s not. And now he shows up and has some malicious plan to get back at your team.

You must not have noticed it until now, but you’re spacing out again for God knows how long. You snap out of it, and force your hands to continue stapling the papers in front of you. You look over, and Ghost stares briefly, before his gaze goes back to the straight ahead. If anybody knows how you feel right now, it’s probably him.

“Forgot these.” He places a stack of folders down in front of you. You can tell he’s trying not to mention the obvious, not that he would anyway.

There’s no turning back now—you’ll be gone in a few days anyway.

“Ghost.”

“Yeah?” He halts, turning to face you.

“How do you do it? That… way about you? You just… Shut everything off and keep working.”

He almost scoffs right through his mask, leaning a hand on your desk. “I don’t recommend it, Sergeant.”

“Then when does it stop? The things that keep replaying in your head?” Your question hangs in the air a few seconds, before you continue your ramble. “I can’t see past it—the lies and the violence, and the way we all just avoid it.”

He steps a little closer, leaning down to meet your eyes. He knows that feeling all too well, but he’s learned to mask it.

“If you keep thinking like that, it’ll swallow you up. You’re a good soldier, better than most of the muppets I’ve seen. You know that, right?”

You’re fiddling with the paper in your hands, trying to deflect some of the feelings you’re having right now. You press your lips into a line, and nod your head. His words meant more than most.

“You’re not planning on jumping off a cliff, are you?” He asks, letting out a dry chuckle. “Don’t tell me it’s something terminal, either.”

You can’t control the smile spreading on your face. It was not the line you were expecting to lighten the mood, but it worked nonetheless.

He reaches out a fist and gives your chest a few knocks right over your heart. “Feels pretty sturdy to me. You’ll be ‘right.”

Saying thank you would be pointless. He’s not a man of many words to begin with, especially not words of appreciation. You outstretched your arms and gave him a brief embrace, as if to let yourself say goodbye to him without the pressure of figuring out what to say. You debate on even telling him you’re going away.

It’s an unexpected move on both parts, but he doesn’t jerk away from you like he did last time. Instead of pulling away, he places his palm on the back of your head, giving it a gentle clasp.

You both pull away, and he looks as if he doesn’t know what to do with the affection. He loses his eye contact, and his inelegant demeanor returns.

“Felt more like a goodbye… We’ll need you out there when we hunt that bastard down.”

“I wouldn’t miss that for the world.” You reply, almost boastfully. After a seconds pause, you bite the bullet. “I put in for some leave, not sure how long, yet.”

He’s less shocked than you expected him to be, but given the way you vented maybe it isn’t.

“I’ll pick up the slack while you’re gone. But then I want you back bright and early, five-o-clock sharp.” His words lighten, having an edge of humor to them. Then again, he could be serious and you wouldn’t know.

You crinkle your nose to stifle a laugh, finishing sorting the papers that you have procrastinated on for months. You place the boxes under the desk, and then move onto the next batch. You’ve expected him to be gone by now, but he isn’t.

“Before you go—” Ghost speaks from the entrance of the room, as if he stopped in the middle of stride. His eyes look soft again, and they’re scanning you like they’ve done a hundred times.

“—we should have a round together.”

—

The tires screech to a stop on the pavement, jerking all of you around with force. Door opens, and you and the others pile out, guns drawn and ready.

“I want everyone to evacuate civilians first.” Price commands, standing in front of the group.

“Go in pairs and take one building each. Direct them to the triage center down the road. Graves’ll destroy anything to prove a point, so get the hell out of there.”

You follow Ghost, who’s the first person to your right. Your feet pound as you both bolt up the road. You claim the first building, which is some sort of an office, but the structure looks ancient. He smashes through the glass entrance and steps inside. The flashlight attached to his barrel is the only thing allowing you to see ahead of you.

You turn off and check the lower level, but it’s clear.

“Anyone upstairs?” You shout, since he’s sure to hear you through the thin walls.

“Clear.” His voice echoes down the stairwell.

You meet him outside, waiting to regroup before you move onto the next building. The next one is further up the road—a hotel closed for construction. This time, you take the lead, bursting through the door.

There’s a few employees that you usher out of there, directing them to the triage center. There’s no time to answer their frantic questions, anything could happen in a matter of minutes.

“Convoy is a few miles out. Make sure you’re out of there before then.” Price chirps through, only heightening your apprehension to get through this operation. You rush up the flights of stairs, sweeping each vacant room for anyone. “We’re heading down to the triage center. Both of you meet us there.”

After checking the rooms, you take the elevator back to the ground level, meeting up with Ghost once more. “Upper level is clear,” you say, in between catching your breath.

“Dining hall is the last area. Let’s sweep it before we’re sitting ducks.”

You reach the dining hall, which seems to be the area under remodel. Tarps are spread over the missing pieces of the roof, but you can still see the stars glimmer through the gaps. Pieces of drywall are peeled away, and there’s equipment still left laying askew.

You search through the entirety of it, but it’s as empty as the upper levels.

When you pass by the bar alongside Ghost’s eyes don’t leave the path in front of him.

As you’re both nodding to one another, signaling that it’s time to go, your radio chimes in. It gargles for a while, as if it’s struggling to receive the message at the right frequency. You furrow your brow and press the button, “Repeat that again, frequency is shot.”

Ghost stops in his tracks as he listens through his own, trying to pick out any words or phrases in case it’s an important callout. He shakes his head and pulls out his walkie-talkie, which is also emitting the same error.

He gives it a few smacks and curses when it doesn’t work. He keeps it in his grip just in case it works again, but motions his head in the direction of the door. “Let’s get out of here, I don’t like this.”

“Good to see you boys again.” The glitched voice emitting through your wire stops you dead in your tracks. You place a hand on Ghost’s shoulder, yanking him into a stop so you can hear it further.

When he does, he sprints to the other side of the large room, checking the entrance and windows for any sign of hostiles.

You look at him wide-eyed, as the line goes dead again. Graves had patched into your frequency and clogged it so you couldn’t reach your team. Whatever he was planning before, it’s here now and there’s no time to stop.

Your earpiece unexpectedly picks up the frequency again when you reach the middle of the dining hall. It gargles out a few words that you can’t understand, and then it emits a high-pitched shriek so boosted it makes you keel over and rip it out.

Ghost moves quicker than before, as your hurried steps try to catch up with him, your boots echoing with each careful stride—as if to not get your foot caught in any of the uneven patches of flooring.

The glass on the chandeliers began to rattle, as did the glassware packed away in boxes. You felt the floor vibrate, and the tarps over the exposed drywall began to whoosh. The electricity flickered as a loud whoosh of a jet passed overhead. The lights exploded into sparks, making you cover your ears for cover.

You had no time to get any closer to the door before the force of a nearby explosion knocked you to the hard ground. The world around feels like it’s been tilted on its axis, and your vision is doubled. You see Ghost already scrambled to his feet, and he’s outstretching his hand to help you up.

You reach for it and just barely brush against his fingertips. When you’re too sluggish, he clasps your upper arm and jerks you toward him, just barely getting you upright.

Another jet passes overhead, the sound of the engine fills your ears once more. When another bomb drops, it’s closer than the last. You knock into one of the pillars, losing your balance again. A clamorous groan of the building causes him to lose his grip on you, and you’re knocked down again, fading in and out of consciousness.

Ghost ripped himself away just as the already fragile structure began to crumble. He covered his head as the blast proceeded, gathering himself when the destruction came to a stop. Ghost coughed away the dust and stumbled through the dimness of the large space.

“Where are you?” He rasped as he felt around, gripping onto one of the pillars still standing.

He climbed through a gap in the boards, looping through one of the neighboring rooms to locate you. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you—draped across the floor with rubble surrounding you—illuminated only by the night sky, its radiance shining through the faulted roof.

Your foot was pinned by a piece of cement, rendering it unusable.

He throws his radio onto the ground and is by your side in a second, knelt beside you. When you finally come to, you try to move, but your foot is pinned completely.

“Don’t move your feet.” He spouts in a low tone, looking around the room for anything he can use to jack it up, but everything nearby is smashed to pieces.

Your eyes dart around the room to assess the damage, but you can’t crane your neck enough to see it all.

Finally, he finds a board to shove some of it away enough. He grabs your calf and pulls your foot out from under, but it’s completely limp. You can’t feel any of this, as if you’re under anesthesia, which is both a blessing and a curse.

You swallow, giving some saturation to your dry throat. “How bad’s the leg?” You murmur, unable to see what kind of deformity he’s tending to.

“You’ll be alright, need to find a way out.” He crawls back to your side, looking every which way as if an exit door was going to appear out of thin air.

He intertwines your hand, attempting to hoist you up. “Lean on me,” he says unsteadily. You can’t use your weight at all, or move for that matter—almost immediately dropping back to the ground.

A sharp, shooting pain runs up your backbone, making you wail in agony. His hands hasten around to find the source of it. Your excruciation is like someone running a knife along his skin. He knows that sound all too well.

He turns your torso, revealing the source of it—shards of metal plates embedded deep within your spine, and it’s been bleeding this whole time. He masks his panic as best as he can, but his silence is every answer you need.

“I can’t feel it anymore…” You whisper, now unable to move anything in your lower half.

The marble floor you’re limp upon is slowly becoming covered with your blood, seeping into the grout and cracks of it. You’re losing too much, too fast—and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

You feel each breath turn into an irregular wheeze with an increasing amount of seconds between each of them.

Ghost shifted the position you were in so your head was hiked onto his thigh, having no choice but to look up at him. You rest your palm on the ground beside you, using the last of your remaining energy to trace the pattern of the marble.

He stops your hand and clenches it, halting your twitching. He moves his other hand to your hair and holds onto the side of your head, not breaking eye contact with you for a second.

“We should get that drink, Sergeant.” He speaks softly, his eyes wrinkling over the weight of his own words.

You titter at his words, allowing them to distract you from the despondency of the situation you’re in. There’s nothing you can say to him that won’t fissile into the air—the silence is loud enough to fill those gaps in.

Ghost is mirroring what he did when his mother passed, cradling her as if he could nurse the wounds away. He recalls the same way her eyes were washed over with emptiness, no longer hosting any soul in them.

The way your chest rattles, the crimson seeping through the cracks of your skin and leaking onto his clothes—it’s a familiar sorrow.

He leans down and presses his lips to yours after the labored breaths stopped—something he didn’t have the courage to do when you were right in front of him nearly everyday. It was not the lustful, craving kisses you two shared, it was a kiss expelling the torment causing his heart to flutter.

“Ghost? How copy?” His walkie that he tossed chimed, finally coming through clearly. They were minutes late—minutes that they could’ve helped you.

“Ghost, what’s your status?”

He didn’t dare take his eyes off your lifeless body, only wanting to savor the last bits of warmth your skin still had. His lips left yours, quivering in a way that hadn’t since he was a tormented child—something he’d never openly express to anyone.

He removed your head from his thigh, then placed your hand down gently, rising to his unsteady feet.

He looked down at the blood coating his hands and the fabric of his trousers, the way it ran down his fingers and onto his sleeve—it made his skin crawl.

“Ghost, do you copy?”

His head pivots to the radio on the ground. His lip tightens in frustration when he hears the callout. The emotions he’s having all stewing inside him all at once—it’s too much.

He picks up the radio and projects it onto the ground, hearing each piece of it shatter at his feet.

His fists clench at his sides as he looks at you one more time, with you remaining in the same limp position he left you in. The sounds of your agony echoed within him, the feeling of your skin turning cold when he sat there long enough, the fabric of his balaclava now saturated with his own tears.

“I’m sorry.” His words felt void against the emptiness of the degradation surrounding him.

It was a phrase he uttered to you multiple times before,

a phrase he’d never be able to tell you enough,

a phrase you’d never be able to pardon him for again.

[Alternate Ending]

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck @brokenghostgirl1 @a-jupiter-n-mars-blog @liliumbosniacum (IT WONT LET ME TAG SOME OF U GUYS SORRY)

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #ghost mw2 x reader #call of duty

[jebewonmorelike]

So You Can Do Yours

part two up now: whatever you say, president-nim wc: 2k pronouns: none used; n/a warnings: none? i guess reader is not on good terms with father but to be fair their father is a chairman of a company so he probably is objectively not great; literally fluff and mostly platonic/you're his boss so but suggestion that wookie has a crush on reader at the end... and reader is supposed to be 19; super unrealistic but just a fun little fictional concept lol summary: uselessCEO!reader has fired every new assistant they've had in the past few months, but newassistant!gunwook thinks he might be the right man for the job. ~masterlist~ ♡ ~kofi (no pressure at all)~ this is a cute one :) gunwook is baby. gunwook is son. protect him at all costs. i've been wanting to write more for gunwookie for a while, but i was super hesitant to because i got a really freakish comment about the only small drabble i wrote for him. so five months later i'm ready to try again. please remember this is just a work of fiction and its crazy fluffy. i really hope you like it! also expect more writing from me this month-- i'm taking the rest of summer off from school so. i'll need to stay busy 😤

“President-nim?” A voice calling through the intercom on your desk breaks your concentration. You huff annoyedly as you lean forward and press the microphone button.

“What is it?”

“Your new assistant is here to meet you,” Secretary Lee responds cautiously. You groan; quickly shoving what you had been working on into the hidden compartment of your desk. Not another assistant.

Every Monday for two months now, a new bright-eyed young woman had walked through the doors of your office ready to kick-start her career as a company president's trusty assistant. And sure enough, by that Friday afternoon every single one of them had run out in tears; unable to handle the pressures of the job. Was that pressure almost entirely due to the fact that you had no idea how to do your own job? Unimportant, but--

“Annyeonghaseyo, President-nim!” A male voice shakes you from your internal monologue as you look up to find that a young man in a 90 degree bow has appeared in front of you. He looks up at you, his gaze drifting to your right hand. 

You follow his line of sight to find a watercolor brush still in your hand-- dripping a bit onto your desk. Lifting up your desk compartment slightly, you toss the brush in with the others. You clear your throat a bit awkwardly-- smoothing down the lapels of your suit jacket with your fingers. “Annyeonghaseyo,” you mumble.

“I’m your new assistant, Park Gunwook,” he introduces politely, standing up straight. It’s now that you suddenly realize just how young this man appears to be. His face is round with youth and his lips resemble that of a baby chick. “I hope to serve you well.”

“When? After you get out of school each day?” You joke, brow furrowed in suspicion. “How did you get this job, huh? You look like you’re late for hagwon.”

Gunwook’s brow stays raised for a moment, but a surprisingly cheeky smile eventually creeps onto his face. “Couldn’t I ask you the same, President-nim?”

You exhale an unamused laugh. Guess this one thinks he’s clever. “I graduated two and a half years early.”

“That must look impressive on a resume,” he agrees genuinely with a nod. “Your father being the Chairman of the Board also must look pretty impressive on a resume.”

Stunned by this kid’s audacity, you just stare back at him.

“Nothing to be ashamed of President-nim,” he reassures, clasping his hands together behind his back. “I happen to know someone that works here, too.”

Figures. “And which one of those geriatric, good-for-nothing money bags on the Board is your daddy?”

“None of them,” Gunwook says with a smile. “Secretary Lee is my eomma. Might seem small, but a connection’s a connection.”

Secretary Lee hired her own son? After the way she’d watched all of the sobbing girls run out of the building screaming ‘I’M NEVER WORKING EVER AGAIN’’ each week?

What terrible thing had Park Gunwook done to be handed such a fate by his own mother?

You stand up from your desk and meet Gunwook at the front of it. Walking in a tight circle around him, you examine every inch of him curiously as he stands at attention.

“Um, President-nim?” He asks without moving a muscle. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Absolutely not,” you answer, bending down to look at his dress shoes. They’re more than a few years old and definitely not a designer brand, but somehow... they’re condition is nearly immaculate. Not to mention, the black, thin laces are tied in perfectly symmetrical bows. Huh. It’s pretty uncommon for a boy your age to care that much about the tidiness of his shoes.

“Weirdo,” you mutter under your breath as you stand back up. You have to crane your neck a bit to look Gunwook in the eyes; not only is he quite tall, you also realized you’re standing a bit too close to him. Stepping back slightly, you take a seat on your desk-- crossing your arms as you glare at him.

“Something not to your liking, President-nim?” He asks, eyebrows raised in question. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you ask a question of your own. “What makes you think you have what it takes to be my assistant?”

“I’ve been President of my class since middle school. I’ve placed in national debate competitions. I’m organized, responsible, and competent,” he responds confidently. But a little mischievous sparkle appears in his eye as he adds, “From what I’ve heard, those are qualities the President's office might need more of.”

“YA! Do you want to die, you little--...” As you threaten him, Gunwook has already gone back to his default polite smiling. “What’s wrong with you, huh? Don’t you know I can blacklist you for life with one phone call? Tell me why I shouldn’t--.”

“President-nim!” Gunwook interrupts your thought excitedly; pointing to a stack of papers sitting on the corner of your desk. “Are those spreadsheets that need executive review? I’m experienced in Excel if you're... too busy for them.”

You frown, picking up the papers in your hand and sifting through them. They are spreadsheets that need executive review. You’ve been putting it off for a week, because, believe it or not, you didn’t get a very spreadsheet-centric education at the fine arts university you attended. To think, you could be painting in your own studio all day every day. But instead your father wanted you to do something “sensible” and “respectable” that “made you worthy of receiving his estate some day”.

Not that you cared much about an inheritance. But at this point it was the least you were owed for sacrificing your life’s passion to goof off in an office for the rest of your life. It wasn’t like you particularly enjoyed being unhelpful or unproductive, but at just shy of twenty years old with a BA in Fine Arts... you hadn’t exactly been well-prepared for such an important job.

You look back up at Gunwook. He’s practically salivating at the mouth to get his hands on your routine paperwork. You hand him the stack of spreadsheets with a sigh: “Knock yourself out.”

Gunwook’s concerningly large hand snatches the papers from yours with lightning speed; hugging them to his chest happily. “Thank you, President-nim! I won’t let you down.”

You’re almost starting to believe him. 

“Right,” you agree, chewing your cheek as you walk back behind your desk. “Well, you get to work on those and have them back to me by... Uh...”

You’re struggling to think of a reasonable time frame for the spreadsheet reviews to be completed, since you’d never once been the one to finish them. Gunwook sees this and answers for you, “Tomorrow at noon, I think you were going to say, President-nim?”

“Tomorrow at noon,” you echo with a frown. You’re not sure you like how familiar this kid was becoming with you already, but at least he’d been far more eager to do your executive work for you than anyone had been thus far. You’d know by tomorrow at noon if he was truly capable or not.

“And where should I put them for you if you’re not in your office, President-nim?” He asks thoughtfully.

“Oh, um,” you stumble, looking around for a good spot. You land on the thin drawer at the center of your desk and point to it. “In here is fine.”

Gunwook quickly walks behind your desk to see the drawer, stopping at a respectful distance. He reaches towards the drawer, but when you realize his fingers are pulling the wrong handle-- the top of your desk is already lifting open before you can stop him.

“Whoah,” the boy whispers in awe as he stares at the giant watercolor landscape painting you’d been working on for the last week or so. You both stand in silence for a moment as you watch Gunwook take in every detail of your latest work. “This is incredible.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly-- folding your arms across your chest uncomfortably at the compliment. No one had seen your artwork for a while now; even mentioning it in your father’s presence sent him into a spiral.

“If you’re this talented, then why--... Why are you the president of a tech corporation?” He asks, eyes meeting yours now. He’s curious and concerned and confused. When he realizes he forgot to speak formally, he bows in apology. “I’m sorry, President-nim.”

“Sometimes a 'connection' isn’t what you wanted,” you say after a moment, sitting back down in your desk chair.

Gunwook swallows from beside you, taking a few steps back to the front of your desk. “I’ll help as best as I can, President-nim. I’ll do my work so that you can do yours.”

You blink back at him, a bit speechless. “O-... Okay.”

He bows, another 90 degree one. “Should I get started on these then, President-nim?”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding slowly. “Yes. That would be good.”

Gunwook nods. “Thank you, President-nim,” he says, turning and walking towards the door.

“Gunwook-sshi,” you call suddenly, causing the young man to let go of the door handle in his hand and turn around. His eyes are wide as he waits patiently for you to continue. “Why did you apply for this job? Besides the fact that your mother works here.”

The boy smiles, answering simply, “I thought I would be a good fit.”

You exhale a laugh, rolling your eyes. “We’ll see.”

Gunwook’s smile turns to a grin as he nods again-- walking out the door and closing it behind him.

~

The end of the work day comes surprisingly quickly (and it may or may not have something to do with Gunwook). 

Okay, it has everything to do with Gunwook. 

To your very pleasant surprise, the teenage boy had been your best assistant yet by a considerable margin. All in the span of six hours, he’d color-coded your weekly schedule, ghostwritten five urgent emails to executives from partner companies, brought you your lunch order exactly how you prefer it, and reorganized your entire desk for you all while you painted next to him.

He didn’t ask you any unnecessary questions or disturb your peace; he just did his work so that you could do yours. Just like he said he would.

The end of the day came so quickly that when Gunwook knocked on your door to ask you if you were heading out for the day, you thought he was making one of his insulting-but-somehow-also-charming remarks about your lack of presidential work ethic again. But glancing at the clock, you see that he’s right-- it’s almost 7 P.M.

“I’m actually gonna keep working for a little while longer,” you respond before you catch Gunwook’s eyebrows raise. “You can go home now though. You have to be well-rested for another day of high school tomorrow.”

He sticks his tongue in his cheek and smiles at the joke. “I actually go to university now, President-nim. Part-time, but still.”

You find yourself trying to picture what Gunwook would look like on a campus: a grey hoodie, jeans, and his hair flopping into his eyes. In another life, one where you had a different father, maybe you’d still be going to university, too. Maybe you would've run into Gunwook and been his sunbae instead of the Guinness World Records holder for youngest president of a national corporation. Would you have noticed each other? Would you have been friends? Rivals? Something else?

Returning his smile, you dismiss, “Have a good night, Gunwook-sshi.”

“Have a good night, President-nim.”

You work on your painting for another hour before finally gathering your things and heading out the door for the night. On your way out, you see Secretary Lee typing away at her desk. When she spots you, she grimaces nervously.

“Oh, President-nim,” she greets as you walk over to her. “I hope you’re not too upset, but I thought that my son could--.”

“Could be the best assistant I’ve ever had?” You finish for her; watching as her face relaxes at your compliment. “You were right. And you better keep up the good work, Secretary Lee: Gunwook-sshi would make a great secretary.”

Secretary Lee swallows and nods at the hint of a threat. “Understood, President-nim.”

You smile, starting to head toward the exit before your curiosity stops you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to call, “Secretary-nim?”

She looks at you expectantly; if not also a bit nervously.

“Why did Gunwook-sshi want to be my assistant?”

She considers for a moment before replying, “After your... poor luck... with assistants these past few months, I couldn’t help but think my son had what it takes to change that. He’s always been such an overachiever. But he wasn’t really interested at all at first."

“Why did he change his mind?” You ask; wanting to understand a bit more about the incredibly competent, but slightly odd assistant that showed up at your office today.

Secretary Lee laughs quietly. “Well, to be honest... He only handed me his completed application after...

... I showed him a picture of you.”

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