Frank Iero x Reader Oneshots

✘"Only you | F.I. x Reader | Mafia AU

(A/n)

Requested on Tumblr

"good one" is used in place/as a neutral of "good girl/good boy" because I didn't feel like using "good (girl/boy/one)" would be visually nice, but you can change it while reading <3

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Everything is peaceful until I start to clean the shelf of books behind the desk. The door opens, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps and heavy breathing.

"Cortez, you know you're not allowed—" Oh, fuck. Absolutely not Cortez. Nor Scott. Not someone I don't know, though. A shiver runs down my spine as I suck in a breath, but I'm not able to do a lot.

"Oh, I didn't know you'd still be here," Mr. Iero breathes, hanging his blazer by the door. "'Didn't mean to bother you, sorry." He presses his lips together, but doesn't really look at me as he makes his way to the armchair and starts to rummage through what I've just organized.

"No, it's not a problem, sir," I hum, continuing to clean the shelves. "Sorry for not greeting you properly, I didn't know it was you."

"Nothing to apologize for," he mumbles, voice distant as he messes with the notebooks I left aside earlier. "As you said, you didn't know."

No one says anything for a while, both of us only messing with our own stuff. If it were a few months ago, the occasional—and relatively rare—presence of not only the CEO of the Iero LTDA, but also Don of the most known gang of the country would have made me nervous. Uncountable rumors roamed around about how Frank was intimidating and absolutely annoying, but the night I met him when he walked in while I was cleaning told me a completely different story. I felt myself almost melting at how he mentioned loving my work along with the special extra things I did—sometimes leaving some 'have a good day' notes to him with coffee candies. All the fucking praises. He doesn't even know how they make me feel.

Today, however... Well, the nervousness is actually due to another reason.

I glance at him, and he's focused on his work. He looks good with his blazer off, only in his button up shirt, vest and tie, on top instead, the sleeves rolled up to show his forearms... nice arms. At first I didn't imagine he would be that good looking, to be honest. I had in mind something like the old man from the Falcones' or Wilson's all scarred guy. Iero, however, only has a barely noticeable scar on his wrist, the rest of his skin only covered by his pretty tattoos.

The way he exhales and shifts on his chair almost makes me jump on my place, but he didn't see that, right? Not like I was doing anything too bad, I was just observing him, nothing less, nothing more. It's predictable when I see him cleaning his throat, however, so I'm not that startled, only set a little off when he looks at me.

"Can you grab me the folder regarding Electric Century?" He asks, scratching the stubble on his jaw.

I nod shortly, quickly heading to the adjoining room to get the folder from the cabinet. "Here, sir." I let it on his desk, receiving a quick nod in response. My job of only cleaning his office evolved into something like a part-time secretary at some point. Soon, though, he is standing up to retrieve everything to its place, and I'm still cleaning the shelf when he is back.

"Long day, hun?" Mr. Iero retrieves a cigarette and his lighter from his inside pocket, lighting it as he moves to stand near one of the large windows; the smell of smoke is rarely strong, given the wide room. Even if he sometimes refers to me like this, it still makes me hum questioningly—also stupidly because who else would he be talking to if his phone is still over the desk? It's almost as if I will never get used to the intimacy, no matter the fact we started getting closer long ago already. My job is to clean the office, help him, and sometimes tag along in important meetings; it barely gives me time to get used to this... side. "I asked if you had a long day, hun."