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milla-frenchy · 3 days ago

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I already screamed at you (affectionately 😌) but Odi wtfffffff 🤯🥵🫠

I was already in love with Javi (in case you didn't know already 🤭), you didn't have to do this and make things worse😂🤭 (please do it again 😌😌😌)

Javi is SO confident, so sexy, omg the way he dances, dead LORD

What a HOT fic 🫠🫠🫠

Javier danced his way onto the makeshift stage in front of your bestie, spinning his hat off and tossing it with a flourish into the crowd. Almost causing a fight between a few of the women to break out. His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long.

Ok. I'm not proud of it, but maybe I would fight too 🤣🤣🤣

Your face burned as your gaze dipped lower, catching a glimpse of something even more scandalous. The tiny scrap of leopard print couldn’t quite contain him—on the sides, the curve of his balls was slipping free. You swallowed hard, your pulse fluttering as he shifted his weight, the motion only emphasizing how precariously the thong was holding itself together.

Jail, Odi. JAIL

Seriously wtf 🥵🥵🥵

Javier struck a pose, bracing his hands on his hips as he arched his back slightly, flexing for effect. He glanced over his shoulder with a devilish grin, clearly relishing in the chaos he was causing. The lights caught the sheen of sweat on his skin, highlighting every curve and line of muscle, leaving no question as to just how perfect he was from every single angle.

Just so you know: I WAS HYPERVENTILATING READING THIS 🥵⚰️🧟

This man was a problem.

Yes. A big, broad, handsome problem 😂

His smirk widened. “Just great?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—something dark and woodsy—mingling with the musky sheen of sweat on his skin. “Because you’ve been staring like you’re enjoying yourself a little more than tha?t.” You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

jfc he's such a menace

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

omg. The tone 😍😍

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Odi you're such a menace too, I hope you know it 😂

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?” He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

I loved this, so much

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.” “And?” You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.” He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”

I think "menace" is not even enough to describe him, actually lol

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.” For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter. You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.

HELL YEAH great job reader 😍😍😍 I just love when our seducer falls for someone 🫠

Aaaaaah what a HOT fic!! I love your Javi 😍😍😍

Strangers

Stripper!Javier Pena x f!reader // almost 9k

Time stands still and it's only us, what we feel started way before we ever touched... must be from a different life been here before and it just feels right

summary: you meet a sexy stripper at your bestie's bachelorette party and he tries his absolute hardest to get your number

warnings: mdni, 18+, javi is a stripper, he wears a man thong and gets pretty close to stripping it all off in public, there's cock and balls, unprotected p in v, f!oral receiving, lap dances for days, reader has breasts, a dress, and hair that can fall around her face and is internally conflicted about this man and his leopard thong, javi has a pov in this too

notes: i really don't remember what sparked this but here we are... it's been like a month or more of me working on this. I thought I was done and then I heard a single song and it pushed me to write even more. This was supposed to be just a smutty fic and then got some depth and I was like wtf. Anyway on to the thank yous, thank you to the 5000 people I have screamed to about this, and a massive thank you to @thundermartini for listening to me go on and on about this guy for a long time and then reading it for me love you baby! A special mention to @gothcsz for the thong idea, @evolnoomym, @milla-frenchy and @sawymredfox for being so supportive of this idea to @joelslegalwhre for reading and @syd-djarin for the moodboard

masterlist

The music thumped so loudly it seemed to shake the floor, the kind of bass-heavy track that rumbled through your chest. Your best friend’s bachelorette party was in full swing, and the rented penthouse buzzed with laughter, shrieks, and a significant amount of tequila-fueled chaos. The party planners had spared no expense, from the towering stacks of champagne glasses to the flashy male entertainment just about to take the stage.

And then, he walked in.

You couldn’t ignore the way the room seemed to shift when he entered. The man—Javier, as the MC introduced him—had an undeniable presence. Dressed in a tight police officer uniform complete with aviators, a fake badge, hat, and handcuffs, he adjusted his badge with a grin that screamed trouble. His dark eyes surveyed the room with the kind of confidence that could only come from knowing he was the main event.

Every woman in the room, including you, took notice.

While your friends ogled and whispered not-so-subtle comments, you tried—and failed—to keep your eyes elsewhere. He was gorgeous, sure, but this wasn’t your scene. Loud parties weren’t really your thing.

The first performance was for the bride-to-be, of course. When the lights dimmed and the music shifted to something playfully seductive, the room erupted into cheers and Javier made his way to the bachelorette.

“Ladies,” he announced, his voice smooth and teasing as he pulled a pair of fake handcuffs from his belt. “I hear there's a bride-to-be here who’s guilty of breaking hearts. I’m afraid I’ll have to take her in.”

Your best friend shrieked with laughter as he arrested her, securing one cuff around her wrist and helping her onto a nearby chair. The room buzzed with excitement as he began to dance, every move deliberate and designed to tease.

You watched the scene unfold, biting your lip to stifle your laughter. He was undeniably good at what he did. But you couldn’t focus on the theatrics as much as everyone else seemed to. Your attention had zeroed in on him—his broad shoulders, the way his shirt clung to his chest, and the effortless way he commanded every inch of the massive penthouse, the man was sex on legs. As he began to set up for the big finale, you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

His aviators followed, revealing deep, smoldering eyes that locked with yours for a moment too long. He’s just playing to the crowd, he has to look at all the women right?

The bassline shifted to a slower, dirtier rhythm, and he rolled his shoulders back, his body falling into perfect sync with the beat.

Then came the shirt.

He gripped the edges, peeling it off slowly, revealing inch by inch of sun-kissed skin stretched over a perfectly sculpted chest and arms. When he finally tossed the shirt aside, the room erupted in cheers and whistles.

And yet, all you could do was stare and clench your thighs together. Why was this affecting you so much? It’s just a party. It’s just a guy. Get a grip. But no amount of inner scolding could make you look away. Something about this man pulled you in.

His chest glistened under the soft glow of the light, each bead of sweat tracing a slow, tantalizing path over the chiseled contours of his body. Your breath hitched, captivated by the sheer allure of him—the way every ridge of muscle stood out, accentuated as his hand drifted slowly down his torso. He moved with deliberate ease, fully aware of the spell he was weaving, and the teasing smirk playing at the corner of his lips made it clear that he was savoring every second of all the attention he was receiving.

But it was when his fingers moved to rip off his belt that the real show began.

The collective energy in the room surged as Javier teasingly ran his hands down his sides, and in one swift, practiced motion, he reached for his waistband and yanked.

The rip-away pants came apart with a sharp, satisfying sound, sending the crowd into a frenzy. The noise, a mix of gasps, shrieks, and raucous laughter, echoed through the penthouse. But none of that registered as you stared at what had been revealed.

Javier stood unabashed and grinning in a leopard-print thong that left very little to the imagination. Every inch of his sculpted body was on display—toned legs, powerful thighs, and that tiny scrap of fabric barely holding itself together. The cut of the thong framed his hips perfectly, the deep lines of his V cutting down, drawing your eyes exactly where he wanted them to go. The thin fabric of the thong clung tightly to him, leaving the unmistakable outline of his cock on display, straining the limits of the material. Javier seemed completely unbothered by how much was on show.

The room exploded excitedly, women fanning themselves, throwing bills, and shouting over one another. But you could barely breathe.

And then, just when you thought the spectacle couldn’t get any more outrageous, Javier turned around with a deliberate, teasing spin, giving the room an uninterrupted view of his backside.

The thong was practically nonexistent, the thin fabric disappearing completely between the firm, sculpted curves of his ass. His glistening, muscular cheeks were on full display, round and perfectly defined, drawing another deafening eruption of cheers and whistles from the crowd.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away. Your breath hitched and your pulse pounded so loudly in your ears it almost drowned out the music. Heat flushed through your body as your gaze lingered shamelessly on his backside, every inch of him a deliberate invitation.

After what felt like a torturous eternity, Javier turned back toward the crowd, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he surveyed everyone's reactions.

He strutted forward, running his hands up his torso and tossing a playful wink to the bride-to-be, who was practically falling out of her chair from laughter and shock. But his gaze kept flicking to you.

Your cheeks burned as he moved closer, spinning on his heel to give the audience another view. His movements were fluid and sensual, every roll of his hips and flex of his body perfectly in time with the music. When he leaned down to grab the bride’s hands to feel up his torso, his back arched in a way that emphasized the curve of his ass, and you bit your lip without thinking.

This man was a problem.

When he finally ended the dance with a flourish—dropping to his knees in front of the bride-to-be before flawlessly almost jumping back up to a standing position—the applause was deafening.

Javier laughed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He took a playful bow, blowing a kiss to the bride-to-be before gathering his discarded pants and shirt. His bare torso glistened under the soft glow of the party lights, and the lingering smirk on his lips suggested he knew he had the entire room wrapped around his finger.

The girls were still cheering and clapping, their voices a mix of exhilaration and tipsy enthusiasm. But while the others were caught up in the wild energy of the moment, you felt a strange tightness in your chest, like the room had closed in around you.

You weren’t used to reacting this way to someone, and it unnerved you. The heat creeping up your neck was impossible to ignore, and no amount of pretending to be distracted by your drink could hide the fact that your eyes kept darting back to him.

And he noticed—like a magnet—his eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped.

For a split second, everything else faded; the noise, the laughter, even your own internal protests to look away. It was just him, standing there, looking at you with that maddening confidence.

Then he moved.

Javier began to dance again, hips rolling in slow, hypnotic circles to the bass-heavy beat. The fabric of the thong strained with every motion, but he didn’t shy away. If anything, he seemed to lean into it—one hand trailing down his torso to brush along the waistband, teasing as if he might remove it completely.

Your pulse fluttered wildly as he worked the crowd, making his way closer, dancing toward you.

Your breath caught as you tried to focus on literally anything else—your drink, the flickering candles on the table, the way your best friend was still howling with laughter. But there was no escaping the fact that Javier was now standing right in front of you, every inch of him radiating heat and presence.

“Having fun?” he asked.

You blinked up at him, your mouth suddenly dry. “Uh… yeah. It’s been… something.” Your voice wavered, betraying how flustered you felt. Something? Really? That was the best you could come up with? You scrambled for words, your brain short-circuiting. “I mean—great. It’s been great.”

Smooth.

You nearly choked on your drink. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” he teased, his grin softening into something warmer, more inviting. “I’m just messing with you. Now come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “Let me make your night.”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied, though your cheeks burned with the effort of maintaining composure. You crossed your arms to emphasize your refusal, but Javier didn’t look the least bit discouraged.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re good. Not yet, anyway.” He leaned closer, his voice just for you now. “But I’m more than happy to change that.”

Despite your best efforts, the laughter bubbling up from your chest betrayed you. He grinned, clearly enjoying your reaction. But when you refused—again—he didn’t press. Instead, he winked, gave an exaggerated shrug, and moved on to another guest, leaving you strangely disappointed.

————

Later, after the performances ended and the room was quieter, you found yourself sitting on a chair in the back corner of the room scrolling idly on your phone, trying to drown out your lingering thoughts about him. A few drinks had loosened your resolve. You noticed a stack of glossy business cards on the table where he had tossed his hat earlier. Curiosity got the better of you, and you picked one up.

The card was sleek, black with gold lettering. At the top, in bold, elegant lettering, it read:

Elite Heat’s Javier Peña

To the left, there was a neatly organized list; a phone number, a Facebook link, which you immediately ignored, and a website address. But it was the bottom that made your breath hitch.

On top of a gold banner, the words Elite Heat: “The Best Sex Therapy” were printed in bold, confident lettering.

To the right was a photo of Javier himself.

It wasn’t a professional headshot - far from it. It was one of those casual yet devastatingly attractive pictures that looked effortless but likely required perfect lighting and timing. He wore a grey long-sleeve shirt that framed his broad chest perfectly, the top buttons undone just enough to tease without giving away too much. His hand, however, made it impossible not to stare—casually slipping beneath the fabric, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his defined abs. The way the light hit his skin added a subtle sheen, making the whole image feel like a deliberate invitation.

For a moment, you just stared at the card. The combination of professional polish and brazen confidence made your stomach twist in a way that annoyed you.

“The best sex therapy, huh?” you muttered to yourself, raising an eyebrow at the audacity.

Curiosity got the better of you. You grabbed your phone and typed “Javier Peña” into Instagram. After scrolling through a few accounts that clearly weren’t him, you found the right one.

The profile itself was… an experience.

Picture after picture of Javier dominated the feed—some in his infamous uniform, others in casual attire, and far too many shirtless to be accidental. Every post was a masterclass in confident allure, and his captions were just as bold.

The comments were what really got to you, though. Endless lines of hearts, fire emojis, and thirsty declarations filled each post.

“Find something you like?”

His voice startled you so much that you almost dropped your phone. You looked up to see Javier standing in front of you, his shirt slung casually over his shoulder and he was wearing his uniform pants again. How long had he been there?

“I was just…” You trailed off, trying to think of a plausible excuse for stalking him online. His smirk told you he wasn’t buying it.

“Don’t worry,” he said, leaning in closer than necessary. “You can follow me. Might even follow you back.”

“I’m not interested,” you replied, though the conviction in your voice wavered as he placed a hand on the back of your chair, caging you in.

“You sure about that?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Your heart raced as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll make you a deal sweetheart, one dance. If you hate it, I’ll leave you alone. But if you like it… well, you can give me your number when it’s over.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve crumbling faster than you wanted to admit. After all, what was the harm in one dance?

Javier’s confidence was infuriatingly contagious, and your curiosity was louder than the protests in your head. You nodded if only to prove to yourself that he wouldn’t get under your skin. A small, victorious smile curved his lips as he straightened, offering his hand. “Good choice.”

He didn’t give you much time to second-guess as he guided you to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the penthouse. Some of your friends hooted and hollered, clearly thrilled to see you in the spotlight. You, however, were hyper-aware of every step as Javier led you to a chair he had conveniently placed in the center of the room.

“Sit,” he commanded, his voice smooth but firm. His dark eyes gleamed with mischief as he waited for you to comply. Against your better judgment, you did.

The music shifted to something slower and sultrier. Javier grabbed his shirt from his shoulder, tossing it onto the floor. The movement was casual, but there was nothing casual about the way his toned chest and large arms drew every pair of eyes in the room. Including yours.

He stalked closer, and suddenly it felt like the room had disappeared. Just you, the chair, and the dangerously attractive man who seemed to thrive on the tension hanging in the air.

“Relax,” he murmured as he noticed the way your hands gripped the edge of the chair. “I don’t bite.” He winked. “Not unless you ask nicely.”

Before you could reply, he began to move.

It wasn’t the kind of dance you expected. Yes, it was provocative—every roll of his hips and glide of his body was designed to tease—but there was something more deliberate about it. He kept his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion on your face. His hands didn’t touch you—not yet. Instead, they skimmed close enough to make you ache for the contact, only for him to pull away at the last moment.

He straddled the chair, his thighs framing yours as he dipped low, his chest hovering just inches from your face. His scent filled your senses, and your pulse quickened as he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’re even more beautiful up close,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he could see the effect he had on you.

Javier straightened, his hands gripping the chair on either side of you as he moved his hips in a way that felt borderline illegal. He was close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, but he still didn’t touch. The lack of contact was maddening, and the glint in his eye told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

The song ended too quickly, and he stepped back, leaving you feeling both relieved and oddly bereft. Your friends erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely noticed. Your eyes were fixed on Javier as he extended a hand, helping you out of the chair.

“Enjoy yourself?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, refusing to let him see how much he’d gotten to you. “It was… okay.”

He laughed—a deep, rich sound that sent another shiver through you. “Just okay, huh? I’ll have to work on that.”

Before you could respond, he winked and disappeared back into the crowd.

——

An hour later, the party was winding down. The penthouse was quieter, and most of your friends had migrated to the couches or left altogether. You were nursing your last drink of the night when Javier appeared again, a shot glass in each hand.

“For you,” he said, offering one with an easy smile.

You eyed it suspiciously. “You didn’t put anything in this, did you?”

He looked genuinely offended, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt you’d even ask.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” he admitted, leaning in closer. “I did put something in it.”

You froze, and he smirked, finishing his sentence with a devilish twinkle in his eye. “It’s called tequila.”

Your laugh surprised even you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming,” he corrected, clinking his glass against yours. “Now drink up.”

Against your better judgment, you downed the shot, the burn of the tequila grounding you for a moment.

“Good girl,” he said. “Now, how about that number?”

Javier’s smile didn’t waver as he set his empty shot glass on the table. “Still hesitant, huh?” he asked, watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You shrugged, trying to appear unaffected. “I don’t make it a habit to give my number to strangers, especially ones who…” You gestured vaguely to his naked chest and the police hat perched crookedly on his head. “...do what you do.”

“Fair enough,” he said, the teasing edge in his voice softening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, holding it out to you. “At least let me follow you on Instagram..”

You stared at the phone, then at him. The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and the way his dark eyes searched yours made it hard to hold onto your skepticism. Against your better judgment—again—you took the phone and followed your account.

“Here,” you said, handing it back after following him.

Javier glanced at the screen, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the night with the same confidence that had drawn every eye in the room earlier.

Javi

Javier leaned against the balcony railing outside the penthouse lighting a cigarette, the cool night air doing little to temper the heat still coursing through him. The party was still going inside, but his thoughts had drifted elsewhere—to you. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at himself. He’d performed for hundreds of women, charmed his way through countless parties, but tonight felt… different.

You’d thrown him off balance in a way he wasn’t used to.

Sure, you’d laughed at his jokes and taken the shot he offered, but there was something in your eyes—an intoxicating mix of curiosity and resistance—that had him hooked. He wasn’t sure what it was about you. Maybe it was the way you tried to keep your guard up even as he chipped away at it. Maybe it was the way you watched him when you thought he wasn’t looking, like you couldn’t quite help yourself.

Or maybe it was the way he couldn’t stop replaying that moment on the dance floor in his head. The way your breath hitched when he leaned in. The way your lips parted, as though you were holding back words—or something else entirely.

The music from the party shifted the song echoing in the distance. Javier’s mind wandered as the melody pulled him into his own thoughts. It wasn’t just lust that gnawed at him—though, hell, that was definitely part of it. No, this was something deeper, something that felt unsettlingly like longing.

He ran a hand through his hair, the grin he’d worn all night slipping away. He’d never been one for complications, especially when it came to women. His job was to entertain, to tease, to flirt—but he’d never felt this kind of pull before. It was like a spark had ignited when he locked eyes with you, and now it wouldn’t go out.

For the first time in a long while, Javier wasn’t sure if he was in control.

The lyrics to the song playing in the penthouse hit him square in the chest.

Must be from a different life, been here before, and it just feels right. No, this ain't the first time for you and I, we ain't strangers.

The words struck a chord, leaving him standing there, staring out at the city lights, wondering how a single dance, a single moment, could unravel him so completely.

It's like it's driving me closer to you, every step back pulls me right back to you…

Maybe you wouldn’t give him your number. Maybe this would end here, tonight, like all the other nights before. But as he grabbed his phone from his pocket and opened Instagram, his thumb hovering over your profile, he couldn’t help but think—this didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

———

Back in your hotel room, you flopped onto the plush bed with a groan. The events of the evening replayed in your mind, Javier’s smirk and the heat of his gaze lingering longer than you cared to admit.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered to yourself, reaching for your phone. A quick check of Instagram confirmed what you suspected—he’d already followed and sent you a message.

Javier: See? Now we’re not strangers anymore.

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at your lips. His confidence was irritatingly endearing.

You: I don’t think Instagram follows count as a formal introduction.

His reply was almost instant.

Javier: What would count? Because I’m pretty sure that dance was more personal than most first dates.

You bit your lip, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. He wasn’t wrong, but you weren’t about to admit that.

You: Is this your usual routine? Flirt with everyone at the party, then slide into DMs?

Javier: Nope. Just you.

You stared at the screen, your stomach doing an annoying little flip at his words.

You: Why me?

The typing indicator blinked for a moment before his reply came through.

Javier: Because you didn’t throw yourself at me like everyone else. And because you’re cute when you’re pretending not to be interested.

Your cheeks burned as you read the message, but you couldn’t help smiling.

You: I’m not pretending.

Javier: So you are interested?

You: I didn’t say that.

Javier: But you didn’t deny it, either.

You sighed, realizing this conversation wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

You: Don’t you have better things to do than bother me?

Javier: Nope. Not tonight.

Before you could come up with a snarky reply, another message popped up.

Javier: You could come over, you know. Save us both the trouble of texting all night.

Your heart raced at the suggestion, and you hesitated, typing and deleting a dozen responses before settling on one.

You: Not happening.

Javier: Why not?

You: Because it’s late, and I’m not that kind of girl.

Javier: What kind of girl is that?

You: The kind that sneaks into a stranger’s room after one tequila shot and a few texts.

Javier: I’m not exactly a stranger anymore.

You stared at his message, your lips twitching at the boldness. Before you could type out another response, your phone buzzed with a notification. It was a photo. From Javier.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the image preview before finally opening it. The picture was simple yet devastatingly effective: Javier, shirtless, sprawled on a hotel bed, the faint light casting shadows that only emphasized his toned chest. His dark eyes smoldered into the camera, and his messy hair added to the whole “devil-may-care” aesthetic he wore so well.

Javier: Feeling really lonely over here. Could use some company.

Heat pooled low in your belly and you groaned, tossing your phone onto the bed as if distance could break the spell he seemed to have on you. But of course, curiosity won out, and you grabbed it again, typing out a response before you could second-guess yourself.

You: Flattery and thirst traps won’t work on me.

Javier: Who said it was flattery? Just being honest.

You: Still not happening.

Javier: Okay, how about a compromise?

You: What kind of compromise?

Javier: Drinks. Just the two of us. Down at the hotel bar. Public place, no pressure.

You bit your lip, weighing your options. Saying yes felt like walking into a trap, but a part of you was curious—and maybe, just maybe, a little tempted. The idea of sitting across from him, away from the crowd, felt… different. Safer. Almost.

You: Fine. One drink.

Javier: I’ll take it. Meet you there in ten?

You: Fifteen. I need to change.

Javier: You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart. You already look perfect.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you tossed your phone onto the bed and rifled through your suitcase. Fifteen minutes later, you stepped into the elevator, your heart pounding with anticipation and nerves as you descended to the hotel bar.

The bar was dimly lit, with warm amber hues reflecting off the polished surfaces. The low hum of conversation mingled with the clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere both intimate and unassuming. You spotted Javier immediately.

He sat at a corner table, leaning back in his chair. He’d changed into a simple black button-down that clung to his frame in a way that was almost unfair. His gaze locked onto you the moment you entered.

“Right on time,” he said, standing as you reached the table. He pulled out a chair for you, a small but unexpected gesture that caught you off guard.

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, settling into the seat.

“Noted.” His smile widened as he slid into the chair opposite you.

The server appeared almost instantly, and Javier gestured for you to order first. You requested a simple cocktail, while he opted for whiskey on the rocks. As the server walked away, his attention returned to you and it wasn’t long before they returned with them.

“So,” he began, leaning forward slightly. “What convinced you to come down here?”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning nonchalance. “Curiosity, I guess. Wanted to see if you were as charming one-on-one as you are with a crowd.”

“And?”

You took a deliberate sip of your drink before answering. “Jury’s still out.”

He chuckled, “I’m not worried. I’m good under pressure.”

The banter came easily, the conversation flowing in a way that surprised you. He was quick-witted, teasing without being overbearing, and as much as you hated to admit it, he was easy to talk to, it felt like knew him without knowing him. The more you spoke, the more you caught glimpses of the man behind the cocky facade—sharp, observant, and surprisingly thoughtful.

Still, you made him work for it.

Whenever his compliments grew too bold, you deflected with a teasing remark. When he leaned in a little too close, you leaned back, though you couldn’t ignore the thrill that ran through you each time he tested your resolve.

“I like this game you’re playing,” he said after a while, his whiskey glass nearly empty.

“What game?” you asked innocently.

“The one where you pretend you’re not interested.” His gaze was unwavering, the heat in his eyes unmistakable.

“I’m not pretending,” you replied, though the words sounded less convincing than you’d hoped.

He tilted his head, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “No? Then why are you still here?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the truth caught in your throat. Why were you still here?

Before you could come up with an excuse, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing yours. The touch was light, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Listen,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone. “If this isn’t what you want, just say the word, and I’ll back off. No hard feelings.”

For the first time that night, you saw something unguarded in his expression—genuine sincerity that made your heart stutter. You hesitated, your walls cracking under the weight of his words. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, or the way his thumb brushed against your knuckles, but something in you shifted.

“Okay,” you said quietly.

His brow lifted. “Okay, what?”

“Okay… you’re not completely unbearable.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “High praise.”

“You know, I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” you admitted finally, your voice quieter than you intended. “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.”

His smirk softened into something gentler, his fingers still lightly brushing yours on the table. “Not everything has to be a good idea to be worth it, sweetheart,” he said.

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Is that your life philosophy, or just your way of convincing women to give you their number?”

“Both,” he said with a shrug, his grin returning. “And it’s worked out pretty well so far.”

You rolled your eyes, but the tension between you eased slightly. The conversation shifted after that, the teasing banter giving way to something more genuine. He asked about your life, your work, your dreams—and for every question he asked, he shared something about himself, too.

“I wasn’t always this guy,” he admitted at one point, swirling the remnants of his whiskey in his glass. “I used to be a cop. A real one. Back in Colombia.”

You blinked, surprised. “A cop? Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. DEA, actually.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Seriously? What made you leave?”

His expression darkened briefly, a shadow crossing his features. “Let’s just say… the job took its toll. And I realized I wanted something different. Something lighter.” He glanced at you then, a hint of humor returning to his voice. “Though I’m not sure stripping is what my father had in mind when I told him I was switching careers.”

The two of you laughed, and the conversation continued to flow. By the time your drinks were empty, you realized you were leaning forward, hanging onto his every word.

Javier glanced at the time on his phone and then back at you. “I hate to say it, but the bar’s closing soon.”

You nodded, a strange mix of disappointment and relief settling over you. “Guess I should head back to my room.”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, as if weighing his next words carefully. “Can I walk you to your door?”

Your pulse quickened at the question, but you nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you rode the elevator in silence, the charged tension between you filling the small space. When you reached your floor, he stepped out with you, his presence at your side was both comforting and exhilarating.

When you finally stopped outside your door, you turned to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. “Well… this is me.”

“Home sweet hotel,” he said, his tone light but his gaze intense.

You fiddled with your key card, unsure of what to say. He didn’t push, didn’t try to move closer. Instead, he simply smiled.

“I had a good time tonight,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

You swallowed hard, his words sending a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with unspoken possibilities, each one more tempting than the last. Then, before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was soft, hesitant at first—a test to see if this was really what you wanted. But the moment his lips moved against yours, everything else fell away. His hand cupped your cheek, his touch warm and steady as he deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out,” you replied.

His smile was slow, almost lazy. “Careful, sweetheart. I just might take you up on that.”

As Javier lingered, you found yourself hesitating. The way he kissed you had ignited something within you—something raw.

You opened your door but didn’t step inside, glancing back at him. "Well, you coming?”

He arched a brow, that teasing smirk returning. “You sure?”

You laughed softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

Javier followed you inside. The dim light of the room cast shadows across his face, softening the sharp lines of his features. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he studied you.

“So,” he drawled, his tone playful but low. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

You swallowed, heat rising to your cheeks. “I think you know Javier.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he shrugged off his jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before you could respond, he stepped closer, his fingers lightly grabbing your wrist. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed and his voice dropped an octave. “If we’re doing this, I’m in control, ¿entiendes?”

You nodded, and it must have been obvious how nervous you were.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands brushing your knees as he stepped between them. “This is supposed to be fun.”

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control. He leaned closer, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Do me a favor,” he whispered. “Touch yourself. Just a little.”

Your eyes widened, your pulse skyrocketing. “What?”

“You heard me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”

When you hesitated, his hand trailed up your thigh, his touch light but maddening. “Go on beautiful,” he urged. “Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

Your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks and pooling low in your belly. Javier leaned back slightly, giving you space but never breaking eye contact. His gaze was dark, commanding, and utterly unapologetic. He wanted this. Wanted you vulnerable, open, and completely at his mercy.

You hesitated, your heart pounding like a drum, but the way his fingers skimmed over your thigh made it impossible to think straight. “Don’t be shy,” he murmured, his voice coaxing yet dripping with authority. “I want to see every bit of you, mi amor.”

Your hand trembled as it moved to the hem of your dress. Slowly, you slid it higher, exposing more of your thighs to his burning gaze. He walked back and pulled up a chair, one arm draped lazily over the armrest, but his eyes never wavered from you. The way he looked at you—as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world—was both thrilling and terrifying.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The praise sent a shiver through your body. You could feel your arousal building, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

Your breath shuddered as your fingers brushed the fabric of your panties, the dampness betraying just how much his presence, his words, his command, had affected you. You glanced at him, unsure, but his gaze was steady, his jaw tight, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race.

Slowly, you slipped your hand beneath the fabric, the first tentative touch drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. Javier's expression darkened with hunger, his composure unraveling ever so slightly as he leaned forward.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you can’t hold back.”

Your fingers began to move in slow circles, your body responding to your touch almost instinctively. The heat between your thighs grew, and your hips shifted slightly, seeking more pressure. The room seemed to shrink, the air heavy with the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of your movements.

Javier's eyes never left you. His own restraint was evident in the way his fists clenched, the way his chest rose and fell a little too fast. “I want to hear you. Don’t hold back from me.”

You whimpered, your movements becoming more confident, more insistent as you lost yourself in the moment. Every sound you made, every twitch of your body, seemed to light a fire in him. His control was slipping, and it was intoxicating to know that you were the one unraveling him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. “Keep going, just like that.”

Javier’s gaze burned into you, the tension in his jaw betraying how tightly he was holding himself back. But then, he shifted, his hands moving to undo the buttons of his shirt, one by one, exposing the golden skin of his chest. His movements were slow, deliberate, as if daring you to keep watching even as your own hand continued its rhythm.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dark and commanding, the sound vibrating through you. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and he let it fall to the floor. Then, his hands moved to his belt, the metallic clink making your breath hitch. He undid it in a single, fluid motion, the sound of the zipper following shortly after.

Your fingers faltered for a moment, your breath catching as your focus shifted entirely to him. He stood before you, stripped of all pretense, his movements deliberate and sure. When he pushed his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, your gaze locked onto him, and your thoughts scattered.

He was breathtaking. The sharp angles of his hips, the sculpted planes of his abdomen, the sheer strength of his frame—it was as if he had been carved just for you. Heat coiled low in your belly, a visceral reaction to the undeniable evidence of his desire for you.

Your eyes traveled over him, lingering shamelessly, drinking in every inch of him. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with a heat that left you both vulnerable and electrified.

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed under his gaze despite still being partially clothed. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing he could see—made your pulse race and your chest tighten with need.

The air between you crackled with an unspoken hunger, and you couldn’t look away, couldn’t hide how deeply he affected you.

His hand wrapped around his shaft, a groan slipping from his lips as he began to stroke slowly, matching the rhythm you’d set for yourself. “Look at me,” he said. “Don’t hide from me, nena.”

The sight of him, so confident, so completely at ease with his own pleasure, made your own need intensify. Your movements quickened, your body arching slightly as the tension in your core built. His gaze flickered over you, drinking in every shiver, every gasp, every movement of your hand.

“Dios mío,” he murmured, his strokes becoming faster as he watched you. “You’re so beautiful like this. I could watch you forever.”

Javier’s hand stilled suddenly, and you watched as he got up, his body exuding confidence and unrelenting command. He stepped closer, towering over you where you sat, his dark eyes still heavy with desire. He leaned down, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his voice a seductive rasp as he said, “Come here.”

You hesitated, your heart racing, unsure of what he was asking. But he took your hand, pulling you gently to your feet, and his lips brushed your ear. “I want you to dance for me. Just for me.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” you stammered, your cheeks burning. The idea made your pulse race, the vulnerability and intimacy of it all was terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

His hands moved to your waist, steadying you. “Yes, you can, you’re perfect.”

His words wrapped around you, melting your hesitation. Slowly, you began to sway, your movements tentative at first, but his gaze never wavered, filled with encouragement and raw need.

Your fingers found the hem of your dress, and you began to lift it, inch by inch, exposing your skin. His eyes tracked every motion, his breaths deep and heavy, fueling your confidence. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you in your underwear. You turned away from him, your fingers trembling as you unclasped your bra, letting it slide off your shoulders before finally slipping out of your panties.

“Fuck, you are so beautfiul.”

You felt the power in his words, the way they stoked your courage and your desire. With each slow sway of your hips, you inched closer to him, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to resist. His heated gaze anchored you, igniting a fire that coursed through your veins.

You ran your hands down your body, over your curves, letting him watch as you closed the distance. His chest heaved as you straddled him and the tip of his cock brushed against your core, you froze, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “Just like that. Take your time, baby. Feel every second of it.

“Javi,” you whispered, your voice shaky. “I don’t know if I—”

“Yes, you do,” he interrupted, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His touch was firm, guiding but never forcing. “You’ve got this, baby. Dance for me—on me. Take your time.”

The raw hunger in his voice undid you. He guided your movements as you began to grind against him, slow and sensual. Your body aligned with his as you slid against him, teasing him with every slow grind. His head fell back against the chair, his jaw clenched as he groaned your name.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his hands tightening their grip, encouraging your movements. “Just like that. Feel me, nena. Let me feel all of you.”

Slowly, deliberately, you adjusted, letting your slick pussy tease the length of him. The anticipation was maddening, and you could feel him trembling beneath you, his restraint barely holding. Then, with a deep breath, you angled yourself just right and began to lower yourself onto his length.

The sensation stole your breath as you took him inch by inch, your body adjusting to his size. His growl of pleasure rumbled through you, his hands guiding you down until you were completely seated. The stretch, the fullness—it was overwhelming and it felt so good.

“Now move, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “Show me how good you can make us feel.”

You began to roll your hips, your movements slow and deliberate as you rode him, your bodies perfectly in sync. The connection between you felt electric, every thrust and grind drawing you closer together. His hands explored your body, his lips tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone as you moved, his murmured praises driving you to the brink.

Each undulation of your hips sent a new wave of pleasure crashing through you, and as you rode him, the world melted away, leaving only the two of you tangled in passion and ecstasy.

The sensation made you both gasp, his hands tightening on your hips as you began to move. “That’s it,” he groaned. “Ride me. Just like that.”

The tension coiled tighter with every roll of your hips, the friction building to a fever pitch as Javier groaned your name like a prayer. His hands gripped your waist firmly, guiding your movements, his thumbs pressing bruising circles into your skin as if to anchor himself. The entire time his gaze stayed locked on yours, dark and intense, as if he wanted to memorize the way you looked in this moment—completely undone above him.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped. “You feel so damn good.”

The words lit you up, your pace quickening as you chased the edge, that blinding release that teased just out of reach. Your breaths mingled with his, sharp and ragged, the room heavy with the sound of skin meeting skin and the delicious symphony of your pleasure.

“Javi,” you gasped.

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his hands sliding up your back to cradle your face. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

Something in his voice broke you, the sincerity laced with desire, the unshakable promise that he wouldn’t let you fall. Your body tensed, your movements stuttering as the first shockwaves of pleasure crashed through you, and you cried out his name as you shattered around him.

Javier didn’t falter. He held you steady, his grip firm as he ground his hips up to meet yours, pulling you through the aftershocks until you were trembling in his arms. The intensity of it left you breathless, and you slumped forward, resting your forehead against his as you tried to gather yourself.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice still thick with need, though his concern for you was evident.

You nodded, chest heaving as you caught your breath. “Yeah,” you whispered.

“Your turn to relax. I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as he stood. A soft squeak escaped you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he carried you across the room.

“Javi, I can walk,” you protested weakly, though you made no effort to pull away.

“I know you can,” he teased, “but I like having you right where you are.”

The bed was cool against your back when he laid you down, but his body quickly chased away the chill. Javier followed you down, his weight settling between your thighs.

“Now,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face as his gaze softened. “Where were we?”

Javier’s lips captured yours in a kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every second, and you couldn’t help but melt into him.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of heat as he paused to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. His hands explored you, tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips before sliding lower. Every touch sent shivers through you, and you couldn’t hold back the soft gasps escaping your lips.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured against your skin. “Every inch of you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as you arched into him, your body aching for more. “Javi, please,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He chuckled softly. “Patience, sweetheart. You just taste so good.”

Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body arching involuntarily. “Javier, I need… I need you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “You’re so beautiful like this. All mine.”

As his lips moved lower, he pressed kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs, his hands spreading you gently. The anticipation made your body tremble, your legs parting instinctively as you felt him pause, his breath hot against your core.

“Perfect,” he whispered, almost to himself, before he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue made you cry out, your fingers clutching at the sheets as he worked you with slow movements. Javier groaned softly, his grip firm on your thighs as he held you open, the sound vibrating through you and heightening the pleasure.

Your hips bucked against him, and you gasped, “Javi, please, I’m so close.”

He lifted his head slightly, his lips glistening as he smirked at you. “I love hearing you beg for me, come on let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His tongue and suddenly his fingers moved together in perfect rhythm, lapping, sucking and moving just right. The tension in your belly coiled tighter until it snapped, pleasure crashing over you in waves that left you trembling. Javier didn’t stop until your body softened beneath his touch, his movements slowing as he kissed your thighs and worked his way back up your body.

By the time he reached your lips, you were breathless, your body buzzing with aftershocks. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

“How was that beautiful?” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours.

“Incredible,” you whispered, your fingers tracing the strong lines of his jaw.

Javier groaned softly at your touch, his restraint visibly fraying. He kissed you harder, his body pressing into yours as his arousal became impossible to ignore. “You sure you’re ready for more?”

You answered by rolling your hips against him, earning a sharp inhale as he gritted his teeth. “I need you, Javi. Please fuck me.”

That was all it took. He positioned himself, his gaze locked on yours as he pushed into you in one slow, steady motion. The stretch was intense, and you gasped, clinging to him as your body adjusted.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, so damn tight.”

“Move..please,” you urged softly, your lips brushing his ear.

He obeyed, pulling back before thrusting in again, setting a rhythm that was slow but deep. Every movement drew you closer until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

His hand slid between you, his thumb finding your most sensitive spot, teasing it in time with his thrusts. “You’re taking me so well.”

Your nails raked down his back, the pleasure building impossibly fast. “Javier,” you whimpered, your body tightening around him as the tension reached its breaking point.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased his own release. “Come for me, give me one more.”

His words were your undoing. You shattered around him, your cries filling the room as pleasure consumed you. Javier followed moments later, his movements faltering as he buried himself deep, a guttural groan escaping him as he found his release.

For a while, neither of you moved, the room quiet except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Eventually, Javier rolled to the side, pulling you close against his chest. He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips soft and tender.

He chuckled, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “You’re not so innocent yourself, Javier.”

His smirk returned. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, pulling the blanket over you both. “You’ll need it for round two.”

#jprecs #odi #janrecs #javier peña x reader

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rafeskai · 1 day ago

Text

Not Now, Not Ever | Rafe Cameron

Summary: After a tense run-in with the cops, reader is injured while trying to escape, and Rafe reluctantly steps in to help. Though initially distant, Rafe's care and honesty break through the reader's defenses, revealing a vulnerability neither of them expected. As they face the aftermath together, the tension between them intensifies.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Profanities

Author's Note: Requested by Anon!

The thing about Rafe Cameron was that he always seemed untouchable. Born into privilege, raised on Figure Eight with a golden spoon in his mouth and a name that opened doors, he was the embodiment of everything you didn’t have. And yet, he was the storm you could never quite outrun.

You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him. Your world—chaotic, messy, and a little too close to the edge—didn’t belong anywhere near his. But life in Kildare had a way of throwing people together, whether they fit or not.

It started months ago, on a humid summer night at one of those wild beach parties you swore you’d stop going to. The sand was packed with bodies, the air heavy with the scent of salt and cheap beer. You were nursing your third drink of the night, watching the waves crash against the shore, when Rafe stumbled into your line of sight.

He looked like trouble—disheveled blond hair, a cocky smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and an energy that screamed recklessness. You’d heard the stories about him, the whispered warnings. Stay away from Rafe Cameron. He’s bad news.

You should have listened.

But when his sharp blue eyes locked onto yours across the bonfire, something shifted. It wasn’t a spark; it was a collision—two opposing forces drawn together by some unseen magnetism. He swaggered over, drink in hand, and before you knew it, you were trading barbs and sidelong glances, the tension between you electric.

“You don’t belong here,” he’d said, his tone teasing but laced with something darker.

“And you do?” you shot back, refusing to back down.

That was the first of many encounters. Somehow, despite your better judgment, you kept running into him. At parties, in the middle of town, even at the gas station late one night when you were buying snacks to fuel another all-night gaming session.

The dynamic between you was always the same: sharp words and stolen glances, a push and pull that left you dizzy. He got under your skin in a way no one else could, peeling back your defenses with a smirk or a well-placed comment. And yet, there was something about him—something vulnerable beneath the bravado—that kept you from walking away.

Rafe, for all his arrogance, seemed fascinated by you too. He’d ask questions he had no right to ask, dig into your life like he was trying to understand what made you tick. You never gave him straight answers, but you had a feeling he saw through your deflections.

One night, after too many drinks and an argument that left you both seething, he’d grabbed your arm as you turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he’d spat, his voice low and dangerous.

You’d stared at him, something raw and unspoken passing between you. “No,” you’d said quietly. “I think we’re both just really, really fucked up.”

He hadn’t let go right away. And in the silence that followed, something unspoken settled between you—a fragile truce, an understanding that you were both running from something neither of you wanted to name.

But your worlds were still too different. While you spent your days trying to keep your life from spiraling further out of control, Rafe seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was fire to your gasoline, and every time you got too close, you felt the heat.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the stolen glances and lingering touches were just part of the game he liked to play. But late at night, when the world was quiet and you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop wondering: What would happen if you let yourself fall?

You never got the chance to find out.

The months passed, and the tension between you remained unresolved.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow casting eerie shadows across the tangled maze of Kildare’s backstreets. You had been here before—ducking between alleyways, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just out of luck. You were out of time.

The piercing sound of sirens grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, chasing you like a predator. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you upright. Your knees ached from the sprint, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when the alternative was cuffs and a mugshot.

You cursed under your breath, your mind racing as you turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway. It was dark and cramped, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Pressing your back against the cold, damp wall, you counted the seconds, hoping—praying—that the cops would pass you by.

Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching gravel reached your ears.

Damn it.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot caught on a loose brick. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you landed hard, pain flaring through your ankle and shoulder. You bit back a cry, clutching your injured arm as you tried to push yourself upright.

"Shit," you hissed, blinking back tears of frustration. There was no way you could outrun them now.

“Having fun down there?”

The voice came from above you, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. You looked up, squinting through the darkness, and your stomach sank when you recognized the silhouette. Rafe Cameron stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His piercing blue eyes practically glowed in the dim light, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your blood boil.

Of all the people to stumble across you in this mess, it had to be him.

“Great. Just my luck,” you muttered, dragging yourself to your feet with a wince.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to your injured arm. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“No shit,” you snapped, brushing dirt off your jeans. You glanced nervously toward the street, where the sirens seemed to be growing louder. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move. Just leaned against the wall, watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”

“I’ll manage.” You tried to take a step, but your ankle buckled beneath you, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could hit the ground again, a strong hand shot out to catch you.

You stared up at him, startled, as he steadied you. His grip was firm but careful, and for a moment, his usual arrogance was replaced by something almost… concerned.

“Careful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”

You jerked away from him, your cheeks burning. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right,” he drawled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because limping around on a busted ankle is working out so well for you.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” you shot back, glaring at him. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the Good Samaritan type.”

He shrugged, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just don’t feel like watching you get arrested.”

“Touching,” you said dryly, but the truth was, you were too exhausted—and too hurt—to argue. The pain in your ankle was unbearable, and your shoulder wasn’t much better. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you’d be spending the night in a cell.

Rafe must have seen the resignation in your eyes because he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Come on. My truck’s around the corner. I’ll get you out of here.”

You hesitated, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t like you had any better options. With a reluctant nod, you let him drape your arm over his shoulders, his other hand sliding around your waist to support you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite everything, a strange warmth spread through you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered as he helped you limp toward his truck.

By the time you reached it, the sirens had faded into the distance, leaving the night eerily quiet. Rafe opened the passenger door and helped you climb in, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.

As he started the engine, you leaned your head against the window, exhaustion overtaking you. You didn’t trust him—probably never would—but for now, you were grateful.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The rumble of the truck's engine filled the silence as Rafe drove through the dark, deserted streets. You fought to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline of the chase fading and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your injured shoulder and ankle, but you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the sharp sting in your shoulder said otherwise.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, we’re almost there.”

You didn’t bother asking where “there” was. Arguing with Rafe Cameron was like shouting into the void—completely pointless. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the familiar streets give way to the isolated backroads of Figure Eight. The trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the only light came from the truck’s headlights slicing through the darkness.

When Rafe finally pulled into the driveway of a small, secluded cabin, you frowned. “This… isn’t your house.”

“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine. “It’s a place I use when I need to get away. No one’s gonna find us here.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or relief. You didn’t exactly trust him, but you were too tired to care. If this was some kind of elaborate trap, you’d deal with it later.

Rafe came around to your side of the truck and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t argue as he helped you out of the truck, his arm steadying you as you limped toward the cabin. The interior was surprisingly cozy, with worn furniture and a stone fireplace that cast a warm glow across the room. It felt lived-in, though you doubted anyone else knew about this place.

“Sit,” Rafe ordered, guiding you to the couch. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

You sank into the cushions, wincing as the movement jostled your shoulder. The pain was worse now, no longer dulled by the adrenaline. When Rafe returned, he carried a small, battered kit and a bottle of water. He crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he set the supplies on the coffee table.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling a pair of gloves from the kit.

“Great,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop him as he carefully peeled back your sleeve to examine your shoulder. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you cursed the way your breath hitched when he touched you.

“You dislocated it,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to pop it back in.”

Your stomach flipped. “Can’t we just… leave it for now?”

Rafe gave you a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If we don’t fix it, it’ll get worse. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Trust him. The words felt foreign, almost laughable. But as he positioned himself beside you, his hand bracing your arm, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice.

“On three,” he said, his voice low and steady. “One—”

Before he even got to two, he pushed. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for breath, the pain slowly ebbing to a dull throb.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I hate you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the cleanup was quieter. He wrapped your ankle with surprising care, his touch almost gentle as he worked. You watched him in silence, noting the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. It was strange, seeing him like this—focused, almost… kind.

When he finished, he leaned back, wiping his hands on a towel. “There. You’ll live.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling awkward under his gaze. “For… everything.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say. The air between you grew heavy, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You bristled, narrowing your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you’re still a jerk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, getting into all this trouble, and for what? You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I do.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected. You turned back to him, your heart racing as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. But there was none. Just the truth, laid bare between you.

“Rafe—”

“I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this. You drive me insane, and half the time I don’t even know why I bother, but… I care about you. More than I should.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a confession you’d never expected. But as you looked at him, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away, you realized something else.

You cared about him too.

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the gap.

But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back, running a hand over his face as if to steady himself.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The cabin felt different in the light of day. The warmth from the fire was gone, replaced by a cold chill that seeped into your bones. You hadn’t slept at all the night before—your mind too restless, too tangled with the memory of Rafe’s confession. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Rafe’s voice echoed in your mind, his words hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. “I care about you. More than I should.”

The way he’d said it—quiet, raw, and unguarded—had unsettled you. You weren’t used to that kind of honesty, especially not from him. Rafe Cameron wasn’t supposed to care. Not about you. He was supposed to be the reckless, untouchable bad boy that everyone warned you to stay away from.

So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as you thought?

You stretched out on the couch, the pain from your injuries still a dull throb in the background, but nothing compared to the weight of your thoughts. The first light of dawn had barely crept through the curtains when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow.

“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.

You barely acknowledged him, your gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” he asked, stepping into the room. He’d changed into a worn flannel shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly put together as always, despite the tension between you.

“Act like nothing happened,” you muttered. You pushed yourself upright on the couch, wincing as you adjusted your shoulder. “We both know that you didn’t mean what you said last night.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “You think I lied?”

“No,” you said quickly, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I think you said it in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were trying to fix things or—”

“Or what?” Rafe cut you off, his voice sharper than usual. “You think I can’t feel things just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t lie. I said it because I meant it.”

The air between you thickened, the words hanging heavily in the space between you. You could feel the pull, the electric tension that seemed to coil tighter with every breath you took. But you were too stubborn to admit it—too scared to believe it was real.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I can’t pretend like I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You stood up, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Rafe. People like us don’t get to have happy endings.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable. “Maybe we don’t need a happy ending. Maybe we just need to get through the mess we’ve made together.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, leaving you caught between something you couldn’t quite define and something you were terrified to face.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming now. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourself. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

His words struck a chord deep within you. You’d always prided yourself on being independent, on handling everything on your own. But the truth was, you were tired—tired of running, tired of pretending you didn’t need someone. And maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the person who could help you put the pieces back together.

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective gesture. “I need space, Rafe. I’m not ready for this.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But don’t think for a second that I’m going anywhere.”

The words were both comforting and suffocating all at once. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you knew you couldn’t keep pretending like this—like nothing had changed between you.

“I don’t need saving,” you said quietly, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes softened as he took a step back. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

“I’ll be outside,” Rafe said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “If you need anything.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze already drifting to the window. As he walked out of the cabin, you sank back down onto the couch, your mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, none of which made sense.

But one thing was clear—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, Rafe wasn’t going anywhere.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently staring out at the woods surrounding the cabin. You hadn’t heard Rafe move around, but when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway again, his gaze gentle.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice tentative. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I can help. My family... well, they know people. Good people. I can have my lawyers handle everything, get you out of this mess. You won’t have to run anymore.”

The offer hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to offer something so personal—so vulnerable.

You blinked, still processing the offer. “You’d really do that? For me?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

You hesitated. The idea of being free from the constant fear of being caught was tempting, but something inside you still resisted. “But... why? Why help me, after everything?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, vulnerability flashing through his eyes. “Because I don’t want to see you suffer. I don’t want you to keep running, thinking you’re alone in all of this.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “And because, despite all the chaos, I care about you. More than I ever thought I would.”

The silence between you was thick, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something fragile and real, the kind of thing that could grow if you let it.

You met his eyes, the weight of his words settling over you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be as messed up as you’d convinced yourself they were.

“I don’t want to keep running either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe gave you a soft smile, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “Then let me help you. Let me fix this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him, the air between you warmer than it had been in a long time. You didn’t have all the answers, and maybe things weren’t perfect, but for once, it felt like you were on the edge of something real.

“I’ll take your help,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a hesitant warmth. “But only if you promise not to bail when things get messy.”

Rafe chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

And just like that, the walls between you crumbled, replaced with something new—something uncertain, but full of promise. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe in a future where you weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction

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sosasturns · 17 hours ago

Text

spin bout u - c. sturniolo

in which shoota!chris spins the block of bottle girl!reader’s ex

the lounge was packed-dark neon lights flickering against glossy walls, the bass heavy and rolling through the air like a heartbeat. it was a prime night, weekend chaos in full swing, but this was your zone. the crowd, the music, the game of balancing trays and dodging wandering hands—it didn't faze you. in your sleek black dress and heels, you moved like water through it all, flashing practiced smiles and racking up tips with every stop.

but your night flipped when you spotted him. meech.

he was sitting at a table in vip, surrounded by his boys-trey, dashaun, and a few others you didn't know. and next to him? his new girl. the one who'd been starting drama since the breakup. her group of friends was there too, laughing loud and throwing side-eyes like they were trying to make you crack.

your stomach dropped, but you played it cool, not letting the irritation show as you passed by. they didn't deserve that satisfaction.

but it didn't stop there. the new girl called your name all sweet, pretending like she was gonna order something, just to snicker when you leaned down. her friends giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world, whispering behind their hands.

you kept it professional, swallowing the heat rising in your chest. but when one of her friends "accidentally" knocked into you, making you stumble with a tray of empty glasses, you were done.

in the back storage room, you paced, trying to breathe through the anger bubbling inside you. the phone in your hand felt like a lifeline, and before you knew it, you hit chris's name.

he answered on the second ring. "what's good, mama?"

hearing his voice calmed you a little. "it's meech," you blurted. "him and his girl are here, and they're acting so fucking childish, chris. like, it's messing with my whole night. i can't even think straight."

he hummed quietly, his tone steady. "what they doing?"

you vented, laying it all out-how they were trying to embarrass you, how it felt like they were testing you on purpose. chris stayed quiet for most of it, his occasional "mhm" and "yeah?" grounding you.

finally, he broke the silence. "don't let them get to you. you good?"

you sighed. "i'll be fine… just needed to hear your voice."

there was a pause, then his low, calming tone came through. "alright. don't let them ruin your bag. i'm busy right now, but call me if you need me, aight?"

you nodded even though he couldn't see it. "yeah... thanks, chris."

"always, ma."

you hung up, taking a deep breath before heading back out, but you didn't know what chris meant by ‘busy.’ not yet.

the hours dragged, and by the time your shift ended, you were drained. brina's place was the safe spot for the night-chris had sent you money for an uber and insisted you crash there. you didn't argue, knowing he always had his reasons.

but the whole time you were there, sipping wine and half-listening to brina rant about her situationship, your mind wandered to chris. something about his tone earlier stuck with you, but you couldn't put your finger on it.

when your phone buzzed after 3 a.m., you weren't surprised to see his name.

"i'm out front," he said simply.

you grabbed your bag, heading outside in your pajama shorts and an oversized tee, too tired to care how you looked. chris was leaning against his black maxda3, arms crossed and hoodie pulled low.

he smiled when he saw you, stepping forward to wrap you in a hug that felt like home. "you good?" he asked, voice soft.

"better now," you mumbled, letting yourself melt into his warmth for a moment before pulling back.

he opened the car door for you, tossing your bag into the backseat. as you slid into the passenger seat, your eyes caught something-the edge of his sheisty mask on the backseat, and his bmw keys next to a pack of raws in the cup holder.

you didn't say anything, but your mind started to piece things together.

back at your place, the clock read well past four a.m.

you were curled into him on the couch, the faint glow of the tv casting soft shadows across the living room. one of his arms was draped around your shoulders, holding you close, while the other rested lazily on your thigh, his fingers drawing slow circles against your skin.

it was quiet, the kind of silence that only came after a long night-comfortable, familiar, like you'd both been here a hundred times before. his hoodie hung loosely on your frame, the scent of his cologne still clinging to the fabric as you buried your face in his chest, breathing him in.

"you good now?" his voice was low, almost a whisper, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke.

"yeah," you murmured, your fingers playing with the chain resting against his chest. "just tired."

but the way his hand started to wander-fingers dipping under the hem of the hoodie, brushing against your bare skin-told you he wasn't ready to call it a night.

"you tired-tired, or just saying that?" he teased, his tone light but the subtle press of his hips against yours said otherwise.

you looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly as you smirked. "what you think?"

he chuckled, the sound low and warm as his hand slipped further up your thigh, his touch slow and deliberate. “i think you ain’t that tired.”

before you knew it, you were straddling his lap, your knees pressed into the couch on either side of him. his hands settled on your waist, his grip firm but not rushed, like he had all the time in the world to just sit here and admire the way you looked in the dim light.

"this what you wanted?" you asked, your voice soft but teasing as you let your weight settle against him, the thin material of your pajama shorts doing little to hide how close you were.

he tilted his head back against the couch, his lips curving into that familiar smirk. "don't act like you ain't been waiting on this too."

you rolled your eyes, but the way your hips shifted against his gave you away.

the pace was lazy, unhurried, the two of you moving in sync like this wasn't the first time you'd ended the night like this this week. his hands slid under the hoodie, gripping your waist as you rocked against him, your movements slow but deliberate, the kind that made him bite his lip to keep from letting out a sound.

the quiet of the room was broken only by the soft, breathy sighs that slipped past your lips and the occasional creak of the couch beneath you.

his fingers dug into your hips, his head dropping forward so his forehead rested against your collarbone. "fuck," he muttered, his voice muffled but heavy with tension.

you smiled, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his mouth. "what's wrong? you can't keep up?"

that earned you a soft chuckle, his hands tightening their hold on you as his hips rolled up to meet yours.

"you talk too much," he shot back, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke.

you didn't reply, too caught up in the way his touch felt-possessive, steady, like he didn't want to let you go. the warmth between you was intoxicating, and you couldn't help but let your head fall back, your hands gripping his shoulders as you kept your pace slow and steady, savoring every second.

his hands trailed lower, squeezing your thighs as he leaned back slightly, his eyes meeting yours in the low light. "why you lookin' at me like that?" he asked, his tone teasing but curious.

you smirked, leaning in closer so your lips were just barely brushing his. "who's block you spin tonight?" you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity, your hips never breaking their rhythm.

his smirk faltered for a split second before it returned, a little sharper this time. "you don't need to know all that."

"don't i?" you pressed, your hands sliding up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. "was it meech's?"

he didn't answer right away, his grip on your hips tightening slightly as he leaned in to kiss you, trying to distract you. but you weren't letting it go that easily.

"chris," you muttered against his lips, your tone equal parts amused and demanding.

"damn, you nosy as hell," he finally said, pulling back just enough to look at you.

you raised a brow, your lips curving into a small smile. "so it was."

he shook his head, his smirk growing as his hands slid up your back, pulling you closer. "i told you," he said, his voice low and deliberate. "i'd spin bout you."

his words sent a shiver through you, and before you could think of a response, you found yourself leaning down, your lips brushing against his as you murmured a soft, "thank you."

you didn't give him time to question it before you started sliding lower, your fingers trailing down his chest as your lips followed. his breath hitched, his hands moving to rest on the back of your head as he watched you. his smirk melting into something softer, something more vulnerable as you showed him exactly how thankful you were.

@ sosasturns

“sosa mafia” taglist: @submattenthusiast @sophand4n4 @secretlocket @mrsdillonx @ch6rm @sweetrelieef

#sosasturns #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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aspenmissing · 2 days ago

Text

ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ x ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ/ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ

4900 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ɪᴍᴘʟɪᴇᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴏᴏᴄ ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ/ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ/ᴊɪɴx

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴊɪɴx ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴜɪʟᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʏ/ɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴅᴇᴠᴀꜱᴛᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛ. ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴠᴇɴᴇꜱ, ᴜʀɢɪɴɢ ᴊɪɴx ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴅᴡᴇʟʟɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇ ꜰɪɢʜᴛɪɴɢ. ᴅᴇꜱᴘɪᴛᴇ ʜᴇʀ ɢʀɪᴇꜰ, ᴊɪɴx ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏɴᴏʀ ʏ/ɴ'ꜱ ʟᴇɢᴀᴄʏ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 || ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 || ᴘᴀʀᴛ 3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊɪɴx/ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ | ʜᴀʟʟᴜᴄɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

The sound of footsteps echoed through the wreckage, the gravel crunching under the boots of Silco and his henchmen. The air was heavy with dust and smoke, the remnants of the explosion still hanging like a shroud. Silco’s expression darkened as he approached the source of the chaos, his sharp eyes scanning for the source of the disturbance.

What he saw stopped him in his tracks.

There, amidst the wreckage, was Jinx—her small frame hunched over a mound of debris, her shoulders trembling with the force of her sobs. Beneath her, trapped under the weight of the destruction, lay Y/N. Her face was pale, her chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths.

“Mama!” Jinx cried, clawing desperately at the rubble with her bare hands. Blood and dirt smeared her fingers, but she didn’t stop. “Please, wake up! Don’t leave me—don’t leave me like this!”

The raw anguish in her voice struck Silco like a blow. His usual cold composure melted away in an instant, replaced by an urgency he hadn’t felt in years. His cane clattered to the ground as he crossed the distance to her, his boots crunching against the debris.

"Jinx!" he called, his voice sharp yet strained.

Jinx didn’t respond, her sobs growing louder as she continued to pull at the wreckage. Silco reached her side and dropped to his knees, his hands immediately diving into the rubble. He didn’t think—he couldn’t. Every jagged edge that bit into his skin, every sharp shard that tore his palms, was a distant sensation.

“Move aside,” he said, his voice low but commanding.

Jinx only shook her head, her tears falling freely as she cried, “Help her! Please, Silco, you have to save her!”

Silco didn’t answer. His hands worked furiously, clawing at the debris as though his very life depended on it. His men, stunned by the sight of their boss lowering himself to the dirt, exchanged uneasy glances before springing into action. They joined him, pulling apart the wreckage piece by piece.

Jinx knelt frozen, her trembling hands hovering over Y/N’s body as tears streaked her soot-covered face. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from her mother, her world narrowing to the faint rise and fall of Y/N’s chest.

“She’s breathing,” Silco muttered, his voice rough as he shifted a large chunk of debris. Relief flickered in his expression, but he didn’t stop. He barked at his men, “Careful. Move faster.”

“Mama…” Jinx whimpered, her voice breaking as she watched. “Please…”

Finally, with a sharp groan of effort, Silco pushed the last piece of rubble away. Y/N’s body was freed, her form crumpled but intact. Silco leaned over her, his hand trembling as he checked her pulse. It was faint, but it was there.

“She’s alive,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through Jinx’s sobs.

Jinx collapsed beside her mother, clutching her limp hand as fresh tears streamed down her face. “Mama… wake up…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Silco straightened, his bloodied hands hanging at his sides as he gazed down at Y/N’s fragile body, now free from the rubble. For a moment, the weight of the world seemed to press down on him. Without waiting for his henchmen, he crouched and carefully scooped her into his arms, her head resting against his chest.

“Move!” he barked at his men, his voice sharp as steel, before turning on his heel and taking off at a brisk pace.

Y/N felt impossibly light in his arms, her breathing shallow and uneven. Silco’s heart raced—not from the exertion, but from the unrelenting fear gnawing at him. He needed to get her to Singed. Quickly. The mad scientist was their only hope.

As Silco sprinted through the wreckage, his steps kicking up dust and ash, Sevika emerged from the shadows. She had followed the chaos, her sharp instincts leading her to the scene. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Silco running past her, Y/N cradled in his arms like something precious and irreplaceable.

“Silco—” Sevika began, but he didn’t stop, didn’t even glance her way.

“Get out of my way!” Silco growled, his voice raw with urgency.

Sevika froze, her eyes narrowing as she turned to look back at the wreckage. That’s when she saw Jinx—kneeling in the rubble, her small frame trembling with silent sobs. Her hands clutched at the ground where Y/N had been moments before, blood and dirt streaking her pale skin.

Sevika’s chest tightened. Memories of Y/N’s voice rang in her ears, calm but firm, asking her for a favour in quieter times:

“If anything ever happens to me… I need you to look after Jinx."

Sevika hesitated for only a second before making her decision. She strode toward Jinx, her heavy boots crunching against the debris.

“Kid,” Sevika called, her voice gruff but not unkind.

Jinx didn’t respond, her shoulders shaking as she stared blankly at the ground.

“Jinx,” Sevika said more firmly, kneeling beside her. She placed a strong hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Come on. She’s gonna need you. You’re no use to her like this.”

At the sound of Sevika’s voice, Jinx’s head slowly turned toward her, but her wide, tear-filled eyes didn’t seem to see her. Instead, Jinx’s breath hitched as her gaze shifted over Sevika’s shoulder, locking onto something only she could see.

“No,” Jinx whispered, her voice trembling. “No, you’re wrong…”

“Jinx?” Sevika asked, her brows furrowing as she followed Jinx’s line of sight—but there was nothing there.

Jinx’s lips trembled as a shadowy figure emerged in her mind’s eye. Y/N stood just beyond the rubble, her form hazy and flickering like a memory distorted by time. Blood stained the front of her clothes, and her expression was etched with disappointment and hurt.

“You’ve done it now, haven’t you?” the hallucination of Y/N said, her voice cold and accusatory. “You brought this on me, Jinx. Just like you bring it on everyone else.”

“No!” Jinx cried, shaking her head violently. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t… I just wanted to help!”

“Help?” Y/N’s apparition scoffed, her tone biting. “Like you helped Mylo? Like you helped Claggor? You’re poison, Jinx. You destroy everything you touch.”

Jinx’s breathing grew ragged, her hands clutching at her hair as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean for this to happen! I tried to save you! Please, Mama, I tried!”

“Save me?” Y/N’s figure loomed closer, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. “You killed me, Jinx. Just like you killed them. You’ll always be the reason people die.”

“No!” Jinx screamed, covering her ears, but the voice was inside her head, inescapable. “It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t my fault!”

Sevika’s eyes widened as she realized what was happening. She grabbed Jinx’s shoulders, shaking her gently but firmly. “Jinx! Snap out of it!”

Jinx’s gaze flickered to Sevika, her chest heaving as she tried to focus. But Y/N’s voice still echoed in her mind, harsh and unrelenting.

“She’s gone because of you,” the hallucination spat. “And she’ll never forgive you.”

“Shut up!” Jinx cried, her voice breaking. “Just shut up!”

Sevika tightened her grip, her voice cutting through the chaos in Jinx’s mind. “Listen to me, kid! That’s not real. Whatever you’re seeing—it’s not her. You hear me?”

Jinx blinked rapidly, her vision of Y/N flickering and fading as Sevika’s words fought to ground her. Her breathing slowed, though her hands still trembled.

“She’s… she’s gone,” Jinx whispered, her voice breaking, tears streaming down her face.

“We don’t know that,” Sevika said firmly, though her tone softened at the edges. “Silco’s getting her help. But if you lose it now, you’re no good to her—whether she makes it or not.”

Jinx swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the empty space where Y/N’s ghost had stood in her mind. “But what if—”

“Stop,” Sevika interrupted, her grip steady. “Don’t think like that. Not yet. Not when there’s still a chance. You hear me? Focus. For her.”

Jinx’s lips trembled, her wild eyes locking onto Sevika’s. After a long, agonizing moment, she nodded shakily.

Sevika stood, pulling her to her feet with a firm but gentle hand. “Let’s go,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As they made their way through the wreckage, Sevika kept a steady hand on Jinx’s arm, guiding her like a protective shadow. Jinx stayed quiet, her gaze flickering to the empty spaces around her, half-expecting Y/N’s ghost to reappear and whisper more venom into her mind.

Sevika cast a glance in the direction Silco had run, her jaw tightening. Don’t you dare give up on us, Y/N, she thought, the words carrying an edge of silent desperation.

With the chaos of the shattered bridge behind them, they followed the faint trail left by Silco. Every step forward carried the weight of unanswered questions, a hope as fragile as glass, and the haunting uncertainty of whether Y/N would still be there to shatter or mend their broken world.

The factory was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of distant machinery. Jinx sat slumped in a rusted chair, her elbows resting on the metal table, her fingers idly twirling a bolt she’d found. Her wide, glassy eyes were fixed on an empty space near the corner—a spot Y/N used to occupy.

A month had passed since the chaos on the bridge, but the feeling of Y/N’s absence still lingered like a ghost, haunting every inch of the factory. The once-familiar rhythm of their daily routines seemed distant now, swallowed by an oppressive silence that Jinx couldn’t shake.

The faint scrape of her finger against the cold metal was the only sound that cut through the quiet, a low, repetitive noise that mimicked the hollow feeling in her chest.

Every day felt like the same endless stretch of waiting—waiting for something to change, for something to give her a reason to move. But no matter how much time passed, the space in that corner remained empty, the air thick with memories of Y/N’s guidance, her warmth, the way she had always looked out for Jinx like a mother.

Her gaze shifted back to the table. A bouquet of flowers sat in a chipped vase, their petals beginning to wilt. Jinx’s throat tightened as she stared at them. She hadn’t placed them there—she never touched them. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to move them, either. They sat there, a quiet, haunting reminder of everything she couldn’t face.

The whispers started again, quiet at first, then growing louder and more insistent.

“She trusted you…” “You failed her…” “Look at what you’ve done.”

Jinx flinched, her hands trembling as she gripped the bolt tighter, her nails digging into her palm. She glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Y/N’s ghost standing there, her warm smile replaced by something colder, something accusing. But the space remained empty, save for the soft shadows cast by the dim light.

The whispers didn’t stop. They were always there, filling the air like a thick fog.

“You could’ve saved her…” “She’s gone because of you…”

Jinx’s chest tightened, and she couldn’t push the vision away. The memories of Y/N’s face, the concern in her eyes when she would pull Jinx close, when she would wrap her arms around her and tell her everything would be okay, haunted her.

And then, just like that, Y/N’s form flickered into existence in the corner of the room—bloodied and broken, her eyes wide with an unspoken question. The same vision from that night. The same haunting image.

“I told you to be careful...Now look what happened” Y/N’s voice was soft, but it echoed around Jinx’s mind like a physical blow.

Jinx’s heart raced, and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. Her hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white.

The hallucination shifted. Now Y/N was kneeling in the rubble again, just as she had been, her hands outstretched, desperate for help.

“You failed me,” Y/N’s voice echoed, her tone accusatory, but Jinx couldn’t make her leave. Her breath caught in her throat, and the tears came before she could stop them. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

The door creaked open, and the whispers vanished as Sevika’s heavy boots echoed in the room. She stopped a few feet away, leaning casually against a support beam, her cybernetic arm glinting faintly in the dim light.

“Kid.” Sevika’s voice cut through the haze in the room, loud and steady, pulling Jinx from her spiral. The hallucination disappeared instantly, but the silence that remained felt even heavier.

Jinx didn’t look up. Her fingers resumed twirling the bolt on the table, but she felt the weight of Sevika’s presence looming over her.

Sevika stood still for a long moment, watching Jinx with a mixture of concern and frustration. Finally, she stepped closer, her gaze flickering to the wilted bouquet on the table before focusing on Jinx. "Y/N wouldn’t want to see you like this," Sevika said softly.

Jinx’s eyes flicked up, meeting Sevika’s gaze, her breath catching as her mind raced. The memory of Y/N’s smile, of her gentle touch, flashed in her mind. For a brief moment, she thought she saw Y/N standing behind Sevika, smiling at her with that warmth that made everything feel safe.

But it was just a flash. The vision was gone before she could reach for it.

Sevika crossed her arms, her voice still calm but firm. "You’re sitting here waiting for her to come back, aren’t you? Waiting for something to change. But you know this isn’t what she would’ve wanted. She wouldn’t want you wasting away in this factory, letting the past swallow you whole."

Jinx opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, she just stared at the empty corner, her heart aching with the weight of the question she couldn’t answer. Had she really failed Y/N? Had she let her down when she needed her most?

Sevika’s voice softened slightly. "She always saw something in you, kid. Something worth fighting for. You can’t just let that go." Her eyes fell to the table, to the bouquet of flowers, their petals drooping in their quiet mourning.

Jinx blinked, her throat tightening. “What if... what if I already let her down?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, a quiet confession to the woman who had been standing beside her through the chaos.

Sevika didn’t look away. "Then you pick yourself up. You keep going. You make sure you’re not just another memory. You’re not just another ghost, Jinx."

The words hung in the air as Sevika turned to leave. Jinx’s mind was a swirl of confusion, the guilt and the visions of Y/N clouding her thoughts. The room fell back into silence, save for the quiet hum of the machinery in the distance.

Jinx hesitated at the bottom of the stairs leading up to The Last Drop, her heart hammering in her chest. The familiar dread crept in like a shadow, the weight of her fear pulling her down, making her steps slow and unsteady. The sounds of the bar—laughter, clinking glasses—drifted up from above, but they felt distant, muffled, as if they belonged to a different world. All that mattered now was the door at the top of the stairs, the one she hadn’t dared approach in so long.

The hallway was eerily quiet. The air was thick with anticipation—or maybe it was the weight of fear coiling in her chest, squeezing tighter with every breath. The last time she had seen Y/N, everything had crumbled. She hadn’t been able to protect her, couldn’t stop the chaos that tore them apart.

The images haunted her—the bridge, the blood, Y/N’s life slipping away, a memory Jinx could never shake. Sevika had pulled her away, told her that Y/N was being helped, but the doubt had never left.

And yet, here she was. She had come, knowing that there was no other choice but to face the fear, the consequences of her actions.

The door at the top of the stairs loomed before her, old and worn, its edges chipped and weathered by time. The faint scent of dust clung to the air as Jinx’s hand hovered near the handle, trembling. For a long moment, she wondered if she should turn back, if it was too late, if everything she feared would be true. She had failed. She had failed the one person who had ever shown her unconditional love—the one person who had always been there for her.

Taking a deep breath, Jinx gripped the door handle. She twisted it slowly, the soft creak echoing in the stillness, and pushed it open just a crack. Her eyes fell on the scene before her.

At first, it was hard to believe what she was seeing.

Silco was sitting in an armchair beside the bed, his usual calm demeanor softened by something else—something gentle, almost fatherly. His hand rested in Y/N’s, their fingers lightly intertwined. Their voices were too soft to make out, but the sight before her was enough to stop Jinx in her tracks.

Y/N was alive—alive and speaking, her breathing steady, her skin pale but not the ghostly hue of death. She was real, and she was smiling. A smile Jinx had missed more than she could bear. The warmth in Y/N’s eyes sparked something deep within Jinx, a feeling she hadn’t dared hope for—relief.

Jinx’s breath hitched as the whispers began to return, creeping into her mind like a sickness. They were cruel, insistent, gnawing at her, never giving her a moment of peace.

“She trusted you…” “You almost killed her…” “She’ll never forgive you…”

The voices echoed, their weight unbearable. Jinx stood frozen at the threshold, her heart pounding in her chest. She had seen Y/N's blood. She had felt the loss so deeply, convinced herself that Y/N was already gone, that she didn’t deserve to see her again.

She wasn’t ready to face what she feared might be in Y/N’s eyes—disappointment, anger. She wasn’t ready for Y/N to look at her and see the failure Jinx had convinced herself she was.

But then, Silco’s eyes locked onto her. His gaze was sharp, calculating, but something softened when he saw the look on her face. He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he motioned to Y/N. The moment Y/N looked up, their eyes met, and everything else seemed to fall away.

Y/N’s expression softened. A hesitant smile pulled at the corners of her lips. She squeezed Silco’s hand and gently pushed herself upright, her voice hoarse but steady.

“Jinx…” she whispered, her voice a balm to the chaos in Jinx’s chest.

Jinx’s heart raced, her throat tightening, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Y/N. Her breath caught in her chest as the guilt and fear threatened to overwhelm her. She had known Y/N was alive, but seeing her—really seeing her, alive, speaking, smiling—it was almost too much to bear.

Y/N didn’t speak again, just watched her with that same warmth in her eyes, a silent invitation for Jinx to come closer. There was no anger there, no judgment. Only understanding. The weight of Jinx’s guilt and fear seemed to melt away with every second that passed.

Jinx took a hesitant step forward, her legs feeling like lead, her hands trembling. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She couldn’t find the right ones. Instead, she just stood there, her breath shaky, paralyzed by the fear that had gripped her for so long.

The whispers returned, louder now, relentless. She could already hear them: “You don’t deserve forgiveness.” “She’s never going to forgive you.”

But then Y/N’s voice, steady and calm, cut through the noise.

“You don’t have to say anything, Jinx,” she said softly. “I’m not mad at you.”

Jinx’s breath caught again. For a long moment, she simply stood there, rooted to the spot. Her hands trembled, and her chest tightened with emotion. “But… I almost killed you. I—” she started, but her voice faltered. The shame, the guilt, the overwhelming fear of losing Y/N again—it choked her.

Y/N shook her head, her expression gentle but firm. “No, Jinx. You didn’t. You never could.”

Tears welled in Jinx’s eyes, but she held them back, biting her lip to keep from breaking. She could feel her walls crumbling, the fear loosening its grip on her, but she didn’t know if she was ready to let it all go. Instead, she took another shaky step closer, reaching for Y/N’s hand.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she noticed Jinx’s hesitation. She extended her hand, her gaze filled with understanding, beckoning Jinx forward. After a long, heart-wrenching pause, Jinx stepped closer, her steps slow and unsure. She stood beside Y/N, barely inches away, the space between them heavy with unspoken words.

Then, without warning, Y/N reached out and cupped Jinx’s face in her palm, her touch gentle and tender. Her thumb stroked across Jinx’s cheek, wiping away a tear that Jinx hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“Oh, Powder…” Y/N whispered, her voice filled with a mix of affection and sorrow. “My sweet girl… My sweet, brave girl.”

And that was it. The dam inside Jinx broke. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. Her chest tightened, and without a word, she sank to the bed beside Y/N, the weight of everything crashing down on her all at once. Y/N didn’t hesitate. She pulled Jinx into her arms, wrapping her tightly around her, holding her close against her chest. Jinx’s trembling body found solace in Y/N’s warmth, the rhythmic beat of her heart offering a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed.

Jinx let out a broken sob, her tears flowing freely now, her face buried in Y/N’s chest. And for the first time in so long, she felt like she could finally breathe, finally let go of the darkness that had held her hostage for so long. Y/N’s embrace was the anchor she had needed all along, reminding her that, despite everything, she wasn’t alone.

The days following that moment were filled with the soft rhythm of normalcy, a quiet peace that both Jinx and Y/N had craved for so long. Y/N was back on her feet, moving around the factory like she had before, her energy slowly returning. There was a brightness in her eyes that had been absent for so long, and every time she walked past Jinx, she couldn’t help but smile.

The factory itself had a different energy now—calmer, more alive. The air was filled with the hum of machinery, the rhythmic clanking of gears, but it was quieter, gentler than it had been in the past. The workers went about their tasks, but there was a sense of camaraderie in the way they looked out for each other.

Jinx, ever eager to help, had thrown herself into the tasks at hand. She wasn’t the best at organizing or cleaning, but her enthusiasm made up for it. She’d often be seen running between workstations, trying to fix little things here and there, her brow furrowed in concentration. Sometimes she would sneak a glance at Y/N, who would catch her eye and give her a small, approving nod. It made Jinx’s heart swell.

Jinx had found her place again, not as the outcast she once felt like, but as a part of something more—something that felt like home. And she couldn’t help but hover near Y/N, always offering a hand whenever needed. Even if it was just fetching a wrench or giving a quick hand with carrying materials, Jinx was there, her ever-present energy a mix of determination and affection.

“Jinx, do you have the wrench I asked for?” Y/N called out, her voice calm but laced with a quiet amusement.

“Right here!” Jinx responded, popping up from behind a stack of crates, holding the wrench triumphantly. She handed it over with a grin, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievousness.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head as she took the tool. “I swear, you’re always around when I need something. You’ve become my little shadow.”

Jinx puffed her chest out proudly. “Hey, I’m just makin’ sure you don’t break anything.” She winked and gave a mock salute. “Your personal assistant, at your service!”

Y/N smiled, the action feeling less like a smile of obligation and more like one of affection. “Well, I’m grateful for you, Powder. I’m lucky to have you around.”

In the next few moments, Jinx was bouncing between different tasks—shifting gears and barrels with a playful energy, making sure to check in with Y/N every now and then. Y/N would pause, watching her with a soft, knowing smile. It was a smile that reflected the bond they shared, one that was stronger than the chaos and confusion they had faced together.

Later, they were walking side by side down one of the factory hallways, Jinx holding a clipboard (a position she had insisted on taking, despite her initial reluctance to handle anything too "boring"), jotting down notes. Y/N noticed the way Jinx's brows furrowed in concentration as she looked over the inventory list, and the sight made her smile warmly.

“What's on your mind, Pow-Pow?” Y/N asked, her voice gentle.

Jinx shot a quick glance at Y/N before looking back down at her notes. “Just... making sure everything’s in order. Can’t have things falling apart again, right?” Her voice was softer now, almost vulnerable, a reminder of how much she cared.

Y/N stopped and turned to face her. “You’re doing great,” she said, a quiet but firm confidence in her voice. She placed a hand on Jinx’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

Jinx blinked, a little taken aback by the words. She wasn’t used to being praised, let alone for something like this. For a moment, she just stood there, taking in Y/N’s warmth, the steadiness of her presence.

“Yeah… well, don’t get too used to it,” Jinx replied with a grin, brushing it off with a playful nudge. “I’ve still got a lot of chaos to cause around here.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

The factory had returned to its regular rhythm, but with a new energy—one that came from the strength of their friendship, their bond growing every day. Jinx may have still been a little chaotic, a little unpredictable, but now she had a place where she felt needed, and more importantly, a person who truly saw her. And that was all that mattered.

The sun began to dip beneath the horizon, casting a golden hue over the factory. Jinx and Y/N stood together on the balcony, overlooking the sprawling city below. The air was crisp, the factory’s hum settling into a peaceful rhythm, and for a few moments, they simply enjoyed the silence and each other’s presence.

“You know,” Y/N began, her voice gentle, breaking the quiet, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you just how proud I am of you.”

Jinx froze for a moment, her hands stilling as she looked up at Y/N. Her expression softened, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “Proud of me? For what?”

Y/N’s gaze lingered on Jinx, her heart swelling with affection and pride. “You’ve come so far, Powder. From the girl Silco brought to me all those years ago... to who you are now. I’m so proud of you.”

Jinx paused, her expression flickering with something between vulnerability and surprise. “You know... when Silco first introduced me to you, I was scared. I saw the way you looked at me... like I was something broken, something lost. I thought you might just toss me aside like everyone else. But... you didn’t. You gave me a chance. You made me feel like I actually mattered, even when I didn’t believe it myself.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at Jinx’s words, the weight of them settling deep inside. “You’ve always mattered, Powder. You just had to see it in yourself.”

Jinx looked up at her then, her lips curving into a small but genuine smile, something soft and tender in her eyes. “Yeah... I guess I do now.”

As they stood together, side by side, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, everything felt right again. The factory was alive with the hum of progress, the city below was vibrant, and so were they.

"I love you, Mama"

Together, they had rebuilt from the ashes, piece by piece. Y/N had always known that there was more to Jinx than what the world saw. And now, standing here, she could see it all—the bravery, the loyalty, and the heart of a fighter that had never truly broken.

"I love you too, Powder"

For Jinx, who had come so far, fought so hard, and survived against all odds, Y/N couldn’t be prouder. She wasn’t her mother by blood, but she had always been the one to guide Jinx through the darkness, to help her find the light.

And in that moment, with the sun setting and the world around them quieting, Y/N realized that this was what family was all about.

And for Jinx? That was more than enough.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #Angst #arcane angst #powder x reader #powder x you #Platonic!Reader #silco x reader #jinx x platonic!reader #jinx x reader #reader insert

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goticapomposa · 1 day ago

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Vi x reader as a teenager

MEN NOT ALLOWED!!!!

First of all I apologize because English is not my first language and I haven't written for a few years, but I hope you like it. ♡♡♡♡♡♡

It's basically Vi and Reader are best friends since before Vi's parents died, Reader's parents died on the same day, so she is also one of Vander's orphans

Vander's bar was busier than usual, but that didn't stop Vi from noticing every move Reader made. Vi was leaning against the counter, trying to look relaxed as she adjusted the bandages on her hands. Adolescence was chaos, but the biggest chaos seemed to be Reader, with her watchful eyes and that smile that made Vi gasp. Reader was laughing with Powder at a nearby table, gesturing as she told some funny story. Vi felt her face heat up and quickly looked away when Reader turned toward her. Why am I like this around her? "You're staring again," Clagor commented, passing by with a mischievous look. "I'm not!" Vi answered too quickly, her voice coming out louder than she intended. She crossed her arms, trying to look indifferent, but her fingers were nervous, drumming against the fabric of her blouse. It didn't take long for Reader to approach her. "Is everything okay, Vi? You look weird today." "Weird? Me?!" Vi choked, stumbling over her words. She tried to hide it by scratching the back of her neck, but her face was already as red as her hair. "I'm normal. Super normal."

The reader laughed, tilting her head in a way that seemed to study Vi's reaction. "If you say so..."

Her voice was calm, but to Vi, it felt like an earthquake shaking her world. She looked away, biting her lip to contain the urge to say something stupid. Or worse, confess how she felt.

"Hey, do you want to practice a little? I need to practice before Vander puts me on another delivery," the reader suggested, extending her hand to Vi.

It was something simple, but the reader's proximity made Vi trip over her own legs. "Y-yeah! Of course! Training is great!"

"Why are you so nervous? It's like you've never trained with me before," the reader said, laughing.Vi tried to compose herself. "I'm not nervous! I'm just... focused." As they walked to the makeshift training area, Vi couldn't help but glance at Reader. The feelings building in her chest were a mix of confusion and intensity, as if a fight was going on inside her.

As they began to train, Vi could barely focus. With every movement, every accidental touch, her heart felt like it was going to explode. At one point, Reader managed to knock her down with a quick blow, falling to the ground with her as she lost her balance.

"Are you okay?" Reader asked, her face dangerously close to Vi's.

Vi froze. "I am! I'm just... thinking about how fast you are."Reader raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Vi, you're sweating more than usual."

"Heat, that's all!" Vi replied, standing up too quickly, almost tripping again.

"You're weird," she commented, but there was a soft smile on her lips.Vi ran a hand through her hair, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself. She knew she wouldn't be able to hide what she felt forever, but for now, it was enough to have the reader close to her, even if her own shyness was a daily struggle.

It was early in Zaun, and Vander’s bar was quiet. Most of the orphans were still asleep, but Vi, as usual, was already awake. She had decided to do something special: make breakfast for the group. It was actually an excuse to impress Reader.

“I can do this,” she muttered to herself, staring at the frying pan as if it were an opponent in a fight.

Everything seemed to be going well, until Reader appeared, yawning and running her fingers through her messy hair.

“Good morning, Vi. What are you doing?” Reader asked, her voice still hoarse from sleep.

Vi froze. The mere sound of Reader’s voice made her drop the spoon she was holding. “Nothing! I mean, I’m making breakfast. For… everyone!”Reader smiled and walked over, leaning over Vi’s shoulder to peer into the frying pan. “It smells good. I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I know!” Vi answered too quickly. She tried to flip a pancake, but her hand was shaking so badly that the movement went wrong. The batter flew out of the pan and fell straight to the floor.

Reader put her hand over her mouth to hold back her laughter, but she couldn't. "What are you nervous about?"

"I'm not nervous," Vi insisted, bending down to pick up the fallen pancake, trying to hide her blushing face.

"Of course not," Reader said, still laughing. She picked up one of the pans and looked at Vi. "Do you want some help? I think we can work better together."

Vi hesitated, but knew she had no choice. "Okay... just don't laugh at me."

"No promises," Reader replied with a mischievous smile.

They started cooking together, but the closeness was torturous for Vi. Every time Reader reached out to pick something up, her arm brushed against Vi's, sending shocks through the girl's body. At one point, when Reader reached for the spice rack, she bumped into Vi, and the two of them nearly knocked everything over onto the floor.

"Sorry!" Reader exclaimed, laughing.

"It's okay," Vi mumbled, trying to ignore the fact that her heart was racing.In the end, the pancakes came out looking decent, but Vi knew she had been a total disaster at controlling her own nerves. When they sat down to eat, Reader looked at Vi with a gentle smile.

"You're funny when you try to try," Reader commented.

"I'm not funny," Vi replied sullenly.

"Yeah, you are. And I like that," Reader said, popping a bite of pancake into her mouth.Vi didn't respond, but the smile she tried to hide said it all.

-------☆------☆--------☆

Later that day, Vander organized a little practice for the group. Vi was determined to use it as a way to let off steam. She was in the middle of a series of punches against a sandbag when Reader approached, watching closely.

"You're so focused," Reader commented, leaning against the wall.Vi glanced at her, and immediately her concentration wavered. "Oh, yeah... focus. Always important, right?"

Reader laughed and picked up a pair of training gloves. "Want to spar with me? I want to see if I can keep up with your speed."

"With me? You mean now?" Vi stammered.

"Yeah, Vi. Now," Reader replied, already pulling on the gloves.

Vi knew there was no way out, but as soon as they started sparring, she realized she couldn't concentrate at all. Every time Reader moved, Vi lost the timing of her punches. At one point, Reader managed to grab her wrists, immobilizing her.

"I got you," Reader said, panting, with a smile on her face.

Vi felt her face heat up. "I... was just taking it easy."

"I know," Piglet replied, releasing her wrists but staying close.

Vi looked away, trying to hide her embarrassment. "You're getting better."

"I have a good teacher," Reader said with a smile.

Vi smiled back, even though she felt like she was about to explode inside. She knew Reader was just being nice, but even so, it was enough to make the day worthwhile.

#arcane vi x reader #vi x reader #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane x you #wlw yearning #wuh luh wuh #viarcane #vi x you #vi league of legends #vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x oc #wlw post #lesbianism #vi arcane x reader

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nickistuffs · 2 days ago

Text

Chimed encounters

Pairing: Harry x Designer Reader (curvy or plus-sized—whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Meet-cutes that's all

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Back at it again! I might make this into a series of blurbs because we all need sweetness in our lives.

✨masterlist✨

...

You wake up to the blaring sound of your alarm at 6 a.m., groaning as you reach over to turn it off. A sigh escapes you as you mentally prepare for the busy day ahead.

Reluctantly peeling yourself away from the warm cocoon of your blanket, you head to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to shake off the remnants of sleep. After finishing up, you move to your closet, opting for something simple yet comfortable: a white boat-neck tee, grey jeans, and your trusty black Sambas.

The perk of being a freelance designer is the casual dress code—no rigid rules to follow. Quickly, you apply a touch of makeup, grab the closest jacket within reach, and stuff your essentials into your bag.

Before leaving, you glance around your apartment, double-checking for anything you might have missed—keys, phone, or plugs left in sockets. Satisfied, you lock the door behind you and make your way to the lobby. Your bike, chained under the stairs, waits for you. You place your bag in the basket, plug in your earphones, and brace yourself for the chaos of city commuting. But first, breakfast and coffee. ...

The familiar chime of the door greets you as you step into the quiet café you frequent. Felice, the owner, waves from behind the counter.

“Good morning, Y/N! The usual, or are you feeling adventurous today?” she teases with a warm smile.

“Morning, Felice. Surprise me,” you reply, smiling back at her excitement.

Felice and her husband, Jay, have been experimenting with new recipes to add to their menu, often using you as their unofficial taste-tester. Not that you mind—every dish is a delightful creation.

“It’s on the house! I don’t want your money, Y/N,” she calls out as she disappears into the kitchen.

You chuckle at her generosity and quietly slip a twenty-pound note into the tip jar, knowing she’ll try to give it back if she notices.

Finding a vacant table, you sit down and pull out your phone to review your agenda and upcoming meetings. Alongside it, your commonplace journal—a collection of ideas, sketches, and plans—makes an appearance. Pen in hand, you begin jotting down thoughts as the café’s calm atmosphere settles over you.

The door chime rings again, signalling another customer. Glancing up briefly, you spot a tall man wearing a cozy brown cardigan. You don’t think much of it until Felice’s voice cuts through the air.

“Harry! Your order’s almost ready. Jay’s just finishing it up now,” she says casually.

Your heart skips a beat. Harry Styles? You quickly lower your gaze, pretending to be engrossed in your notebook.

Felice calls your name, and you head to the counter to retrieve your breakfast.

“Thank you! Oh, this looks amazing. What’s in the sandwich?” you ask, marvelling at the colourful creation.

“Lettuce, tomatoes, two types of sauce, and pan-fried teriyaki-marinated tofu,” she explains proudly.

Before you can respond, the man beside you—Harry Styles—chimes in.

“That sounds delicious. Is it available?” he asks, his voice as smooth and familiar as you’d imagined.

You freeze momentarily, your mind scrambling to process the fact that Harry Styles is standing right next to you.

Felice, unfazed, answers, “Of course, Harry. Yours will be out in a minute.” She heads back into the kitchen, leaving you rooted in place.

Grabbing your tray, you quickly return to your table, doing your best to avoid eye contact with him. Meeting famous people always makes you nervous, and being an introverted designer who occasionally deals with high-profile clients doesn’t help. Plus, it doesn’t hurt—or maybe it does—that you’re a huge fan of his work.

You take a deep breath, push your straw into your iced coffee, and focus on your sandwich. To distract yourself, you doodle mindlessly in your journal.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Harry taking a seat at the table adjacent to yours. You keep your eyes down, bouncing between your coffee cup, your phone, and your sandwich, trying to act nonchalant.

When Felice calls his name to pick up his order, you resist the urge to look at him, knowing it would only make you more flustered.

...

Finishing your sandwich, you glance at your watch and realize it’s time to head to your first meeting. As you pack up your things, you risk a quick look in his direction. He’s taking a bite of his sandwich, seemingly enjoying it. For a brief moment, you consider asking if he likes it, but you bite your tongue and focus on leaving.

With your coffee in hand, you walk to the door, unhook your bike, and start to prepare for your ride. The door chime rings again, and you assume it’s Felice coming to say goodbye.

“Sorry, Feli, I’m in a rush—my meeting’s in 30 minutes,” you say quickly, only to stop mid-sentence when you see him.

It’s Harry Styles, holding your journal in his hand.

“Hey, you left this on the table. I didn’t want you to forget it,” he says, his voice kind and warm.

You freeze, your hand reaching out to take the journal. As your fingers brush against his, you feel a jolt of awareness that makes your cheeks flush.

“Oh, thank you. I didn’t realize I left it,” you mumble, embarrassed.

An awkward silence lingers as you both stand there. You avert your gaze, fumbling to place your bag in your bike basket.

“Thank you again, truly, but I need to go,” you say, finally hopping onto your bike.

“No worries. Have a safe ride,” he replies, smiling softly.

You meet his gaze for a fleeting moment before looking straight ahead, your heart racing as you pedal away.

As you turn the corner, you can’t help but replay the interaction in your mind, blushing harder than ever.

... I felt so giddy when I was writing this. aaaAAAHHH!

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles husband #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles blurbs #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fiction #one direction #one direction x reader

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nachrosas · 3 days ago

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CUPID'S PUPPY | e.prentiss x romanoff!reader

summary: in which a walk in the park with your puppy gives you more than a little fun. pairing: emily prentiss x romanoff!reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 1.2k a/n: night, night! first time writing for emily prentiss, so I'm nervous! i want to give a big thank you to @mggslover who encouraged me to start writing about this idea! i had fun writing this one and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

The park was particularly busy on that sunny Tuesday afternoon, but the sound of laughter, chatter, and footsteps didn't bother you. You were holding the lead of Bucky, your Belgian Malinois puppy, who was trotting lively beside you, his tail wagging as if he were greeting the whole world with his contagious animation. The current of wind blowing towards you carried the scent of flowers, freshly cut grass, and… food.

“Bucky, slow down!” you ordered, adjusting the strap of your fanny pack on your shoulder. It was the perfect day for a leisurely walk in the park, and you planned to make the most of it — since you didn't know when exactly you'd have another mission-free day. However, something seemed to distract your puppy. He raised his snout, sniffing more intensely, and his posture became alert.

“Hey, kid, what now?” you asked, laughing as he pulled a little harder on the leash.

That's when it happened. And, to your utter panic, Bucky fired without warning, the leash sliding quickly through your hands.

“Bucky! Stop!”

That's when it happened. And, to his utter panic, Bucky took off without warning, running into a woman with brown hair in a messy ponytail, absent-mindedly eating what looked like a sandwich while leafing through a book with a faded cover. Without warning, he jumped up, snatching the food out of her hands and running across the park.

“Bucky! Stop! Drop it now!”

You ran through the park, your face red with embarrassment as Bucky, with all the enthusiasm of someone who thought he'd just won the lottery, held the stolen sandwich firmly between his teeth. He settled comfortably in the soft grass, chewing his snack as if it were the best meal he'd ever had.

When you finally reached him, you knelt down beside him, trying to snatch the remains of the sandwich from his jaws, but he only turned his head away, protecting his delicious prize.

“You're terrible, you know that? Terrible!”

“He seems to think otherwise.” a humor-laden female voice replied behind you, startling you slightly.

You turned around quickly and, a few steps away, there she was: arms crossed and with a relaxed posture. Her eyes were shining and a huge smile that seemed to be lit up with amusement took over her face.

“I'm really sorry!” you began, standing up hastily, the words running over each other. “He's never done that! He's usually very polite. I can buy you another sandwich… or anything else you want to make it up to you!”

She raised an eyebrow, still smiling, and shook her head. “You don't have to. It's not the end of the world.” Her eyes turned to Bucky, who was now licking his paws, completely oblivious to the mess he'd just caused. “Besides, he's got good taste…”

You opened your mouth to thank her, but she finished, her soft smile turning into something a little provocative:

“… just like the owner.”

The words hung in the air for a second before you realized what she had said. A wave of heat went up your cheeks, and any attempt to answer was shuffled off with a nervous laugh.

“I… uh… eh… Well, thanks, I guess?”

She laughed again, this time more softly, and held out her hand. “Emily Prentiss. Nice to meet you and this little sandwich thief.”

You accepted the handshake, your face still feeling hot. “Nice to meet you… even if that's not exactly the best first impression.”

“I disagree.” Emily blinked in your direction and, for a brief moment, the chaos caused by Bucky seemed to have been worth it.

Emily looked at what was left of the sandwich: a tiny piece, still wrapped in the crumpled paper, that Bucky had saved.

“Well, he left something. Do you want to share?” she asked, holding up the piece with a playful smile on her lips.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Eh, I couldn't accept it, especially after… that.” you gestured to Bucky, who was still lying on the grass, licking his lips as if he didn't feel a pang of guilt in the world.

“Okay.” Emily said, tossing what was left onto the table next to you with a thoughtful look on her face. “How about a coffee? The place around the corner has amazing sandwiches. And I promise to keep an eye on your dog this time.”

You hesitated. Accepting an invitation from a complete stranger wasn't exactly in your plans for that day — however, neither was Bucky stealing a sandwich. But there was something about Emily — her genuine smile, the relaxed way she had handled the situation — that made you want to stay a little longer.

“All right,” you said, smiling back. “But it's on me. Bucky's already put me in enough debt for today.”

Emily laughed, starting to walk beside him. “Fine. But only if he behaves.”

Bucky, as if he understood that the conversation was now about him, looked up with an expression of almost innocence.

On the walk to the café, the conversation between you flowed naturally. Emily asked about Bucky: how long you'd had him, how he generally behaved — and you again assured her that he behaved much better than he does today. You told her about the various adventures and pranks you'd been on with him, and Emily, in return, told you about her childhood dog, called Max, who she also regarded as a “little terror”.

“I think he knew how to pick his targets,” she joked. “Max also stole a sandwich once. It was from the most annoying neighbor in the whole neighborhood. I remember he was quite furious, but my mother managed to get around it with an apple pie from a prestigious restaurant.”

“So, for you, Bucky was just an evolution of this legacy of thievery?” you teased, feeling more at ease with every step.

“It's quite possible.” Emily laughed, and the sound was light and infectious.

The conversation between you flowed with such surprising ease that you didn't even notice the time passing. Emily was fun and full of stories that made you laugh and relax. When the waiter brought the bill, she insisted on splitting it.

“Consider it a draw,” she joked. “A sandwich was stolen for a shared coffee.”

The golden light of late afternoon illuminated the sky, giving the scene an almost magical tone. When they reached the door of the café, Emily turned to you, a shy smile on her lips.

“I come here often,” she said, putting her hands in her coat pockets. “Maybe we'll meet up again… if Bucky isn't too busy stealing sandwiches, of course.”

You laughed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “Maybe. Or, well, we could arrange a time, if you want to avoid food surprises.”

Emily arched an eyebrow, clearly holding back a bigger smile. “That sounds like a plan. Can I take your number?”

You nodded and exchanged numbers, the gesture accompanied by a slight feeling of nervousness, but also anticipation.

“Right, so I'll see you around!” Emily said, taking one last look at Bucky, who was watching everything curiously. “And if he needs a lawyer for his next prank, let me know.”

You laughed, nodding as she walked away.

As you walked home, you looked at Bucky, who was walking beside you with his chest puffed out, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

“You knew all along, didn't you?” you asked, and he wagged his tail enthusiastically, as if in agreement.

A smile escaped his lips. The day that had started out like any other had turned into something unexpected and special — all thanks to a dog with a refined taste for sandwiches and, apparently, casual encounters.

#criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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soleilpinto · 2 days ago

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DRS = Defining Relationship Status?: Ghosted in the Paddock °‧🫐𐙚⭒

“Defining Relationship Status Zone” 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

Synopsis: Motorsport fan and model, Y/n, and her thirst-filled tweets about Franco catch his attention, sparking a hilarious online banter that goes viral. As their playful exchanges become real connections, fans and media can’t get enough—will their chemistry survive offline?

Genre: Fluff, Crack, Slowburn, (Slight) Angst

AU: Social Media AU!

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Ghosting (if it counts ??), cold shoulders from both Franco and Y/n over the summer break, realizations

Note: Ohmygod we are almost done with the series 🥹 Time really flies but I’m so glad I started this smau as a way to kickstart my F1 blog. Thank you guys for the continuous support as always and don’t forget to like + reblog!

DRS Masterlist. (PREV./NEXT.)

@thepaddockqueen y/n’s whole vibe during this break is NEXT LEVEL but like... where's franco? i thought they'd be a package deal by now, even though vegas says otherwise

@tracksidevibes is it just me or did y/n and franco go from this 🤏 close to literally no posts? she’s living her best life though but still… kinda odd

@f1fanatic_ okay but like… where’s franco? y/n has been lowkey glowing after vegas but they're barely together?? kinda sus 🤨

The cool Monaco night wraps around you as you sit at a cozy table in a dimly lit bar, surrounded by a few of your closest friends—Jade, Kika, and Alex.

Tonight, it's just the four of you, trying to enjoy the quiet after the chaos of the summer break, and the drama surrounding you and Franco after Vegas.

The low hum of chatter and clinking glasses fills the air, but you feel the weight of a question coming. It’s been the same one for weeks, and you know it’s only a matter of time before someone asks.

“So," Jade begins, her voice playful but tinged with curiosity, "you and Franco still, like... doing the thing?"

She takes a sip of her wine, raising an eyebrow as if the answer is something she’s dying to hear.

You let out a quiet laugh, feeling the familiar tension rise in your chest.

Ever since the Las Vegas GP, things between you and Franco had shifted in ways no one really saw coming.

There were whispers online, fans asking why the two of you weren’t together anymore, and you felt the weight of all their speculation, especially when you barely interacted anymore.

You glance at Kika and Alex, both watching you with the same knowing look. They’ve seen it all before.

“I don’t even know anymore," you mutter, shrugging. "It was never supposed to be real, you know?"

Kika, who’s been quiet up until now, leans forward, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"Oh, we know it wasn’t real. But you two were so convincing!" She chuckles, glancing over at Jade.

"I mean, I was ready to start planning the wedding for you both after Singapore. Seriously. You had us all fooled."

You shake your head with a small smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

"It was way too convincing, right? That’s the problem. It wasn’t real, but we made it look like it was. And I think I got caught up in the moment. At first, I thought it was harmless, but after Vegas... I don’t know. Everything just felt off."

Alex, ever the quiet one at the table, finally speaks up.

"What happened in Vegas? You two were all over each other before, and then it was like... poof—nothing. Was it something specific that went down?"

You hesitate. The memory of that weekend still stings, the awkwardness between you and Franco palpable, even if the public never noticed it. Though, you digress.

"Vegas was where everything started to feel wrong," you admit, your voice softer now.

"We fought on the phone because rumors of him being with another woman had surfaced. After that, we both just... drifted. I don’t think we even knew how to act around each other anymore. It was so much pressure, and it started feeling suffocating to us."

Jade tilts her head, a sad smile playing on her lips.

"I’ll hurt him for even thinking of going off with some other woman. Y/n, you didn’t deserve that, the way he treated you and the way he never thought of how it would affect and humiliate you. Fake dating or not, it’s still a low blow,”

“I know," you reply with a sigh.

"But it was exhausting to deal with the mess. At first, I thought it was something fun, but then it felt like we were trapped in a script, and neither of us was happy. We barely spoke after that weekend. I think we both realized it wasn’t working, well mostly me because I— actually started having real feelings for him, but I didn't know how to step away without everyone noticing."

Kika, who’s always the one to give it to you straight, raises an eyebrow.

"The fans are still buzzing about it, though. I’ve seen a ton of posts asking what happened. People are practically creating conspiracy theories, like ‘Did Franco and Y/N break up?’ ‘Where's Franco been?’ and all that. It’s kind of wild."

You laugh, but it’s more out of exasperation than amusement.

“It’s crazy, right? I mean, I get it—they’ve invested so much in us, but it feels like we’re still living in this story that we’re both tired of. And now, no matter what I post or don’t post, they’re going to speculate."

Alex shakes her head, her voice full of that knowing sympathy.

"The fans will never let you off the hook, but honestly, babe, I think you’re better off without the drama. The whole thing was a mess from the start. You don’t need to pretend for anyone. We all know you’ve got enough on your plate."

“Thanks, Alex," you smile, appreciating the support.

"It’s just been a lot, you know? Like, I kept thinking I was doing the right thing, but now I see how wrong it all was."

Jade’s eyes soften as she places her glass down.

"Honestly, I think you dodged a bullet. You’re too amazing to be wrapped up in a fake relationship for the fans’ sake, and for Franco to humiliate you like that. It’s just unnecessary drama."

You nod, feeling lighter with each word.

"Yeah, I just need to move on from all of it. The pressure, the expectations—it was never about what I actually wanted. And now, I’m just... ready for things to be real again, even if that means stepping away from it all."

Kika grins, her tone teasing. "So, no more playing the ‘fake girlfriend’ game with any other F1 drivers then?"

You roll your eyes, the humor lifting your spirits for a moment.

"Definitely not. If I ever do that again, someone can slap me."

Alex raises her glass with a grin. "To no more fake relationships, and to keeping things real from now on."

You all laugh, the mood shifting to something much lighter as the weight of the last few months begins to melt away.

The fans might keep wondering what happened between you and Franco, but for now, you're done with the drama. And that’s enough for you.

liked by francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and others

ynbardot off season is going so great x

littlefoxhermes see you in monaco soon love!

— ynbardot see you babes!

lettiemng badly need a catching up with you girls

— ynbardot pull up pleasee 😭

liked by pierregasly, williamsracing and 695,323 others

francolapinto Últimas dos. A disfrutar! vamos equipo 💙🇦🇷 👊🏼

williamsracing ¡Vamos, equipo!

colapainto vamos franco 🇦🇷🇦🇷

Franco sits alone in his dimly lit room at home in Argentina, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence.

His fingers hover over his phone screen, but his eyes remain locked on the glowing display.

He can’t stop himself from scrolling, from seeking out the posts, the stories, the pictures that capture you—only now, it feels like he's watching someone else’s life, not the one he used to share with you.

The latest photo catches his breath. There you are, framed perfectly in the soft light of Monaco’s famous streets, laughing with your friends.

The caption beneath reads, "where my heart finds peace" He watches as you lean into Lily, the two of you sharing some inside joke, your eyes sparkling in a way that used to belong only to him.

His stomach churns as he zooms in, looking at the way you carry yourself now, carefree, a version of yourself he never got the chance to truly know.

He swipes to the next story, and there you are again—boarding a yacht, Lando and Carlos’ arm wrapped you as you three gaze out at the sparkling Mediterranean Sea.

Another photo follows, this time you’re in a lavish café, smiling at the camera as your friends clink glasses around you.

The words "mind and healing" keep popping up, over and over. He can almost hear your voice in his head, carefree, as if he never existed in your world.

His fingers tighten around the phone, anger and regret boiling inside him.

How did this happen? How did he get so lost in the shuffle of it all? Was it the distance? The misunderstandings? Or had he simply taken you for granted?

Franco doesn’t know, but the pain of seeing you so happy, so free, while he’s left with nothing but memories, is unbearable.

He leans back, staring at the ceiling, frustration mounting.

The phone buzzes in his hand—a text message from his agent. He ignores it, opting instead to swipe back to your feed.

The next post is a short video, and in it, you’re laughing as Lando and Alex attempt to teach you how to dance, your movements light and carefree.

The sound of your laughter—so genuine, so full of life—hits him like a punch to the gut.

“I thought we would become something real," he mutters under his breath, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

Suddenly, a memory flashes in his mind.

It’s of you—your soft voice, your teasing smile, the way you would always brush his hair out of his eyes when you thought he was too serious.

He remembers the quiet moments, the late-night talks when everything felt possible, when the world was just the two of you. How naive he’d been, thinking it would last forever without the commitment.

Franco finds himself typing something, then immediately deleting it. He types again, but his fingers falter over the keys, unsure of what he even wants to say anymore.

Finally, he stares at the blank text box and closes the app.

What could he say to you now? How could he explain that he didn’t realize what he had until it was too late? That all the things he took for granted—the way you cared for him, the way you were always there—he never truly understood them until he saw you living a life without him. Without even a glance back.

A new post from you flashes on the screen—a video of you tossing your head back in laughter because of Charles and Carlos.

His heart sinks.

The woman in the photo looks nothing like the one he once knew—the one who would call him on quiet nights, the one who would share her deepest thoughts.

This version of you seems... unreachable. Far away in a world of glitz and glamour. A world he’ll never be a part of again.

Franco can almost hear your voice now, soft but distant, as if you were speaking to him from another life.

"Why do you care so much about who I’m with? We aren’t even dating, Franco,”

He closes his eyes, trying to drown out the memory of your voice, but it lingers, mocking him.

"You never fought for me," he whispers to the empty room, his heart heavy with the weight of regret.

And as he stares at your picture once more, he realizes just how deeply he’s lost you.

There’s no going back.

You’re gone, living your life without him, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

Franco tosses the phone onto the bed, the screen still glowing with your presence. He swallows hard, but it doesn’t help. The truth is, he’s never felt more alone.

The cabin glowed like a beacon of warmth against the chilly autumn evening.

Outside, the forest was painted in rich hues of amber, crimson, and gold, leaves scattered across the winding path that had led you all here.

A crisp breeze rustled through the trees, carrying the faint scent of pine and wood smoke.

Inside, the crackling fire provided a cozy backdrop to the sounds of laughter spilling from the living room, where Max, Pietra, and the rest of the group were engrossed in a heated card game.

But you had sought refuge in the kitchen, the noise feeling a bit too much tonight.

The space smelled of cinnamon, apples, and sugar, the telltale signs of an attempt to bake something seasonal.

Lando had joined you not long after, claiming he was “curious about the process,” though his clumsy attempts at mixing ingredients suggested otherwise.

“Seriously, who decided baking was fun?” Lando grumbled, glaring at the sticky mass clinging to the spoon in his hand.

He had flour smeared across his sweatshirt, a streak of it on his jaw where he’d scratched at his face absentmindedly.

“You volunteered, remember?” you replied, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you carefully measured out cinnamon into a small bowl.

“And besides, it’s supposed to be fun. You’re just overthinking it.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he shot back, smirking. “You’ve been lost in your own head all day.”

His words stopped you mid-motion, and you glanced up to find him watching you, his brows knit with concern.

You opened your mouth to deflect, to tell him you were fine, but the way his eyes softened made you pause.

Lando had this way of seeing through you, of knowing when something was wrong even when you thought you were hiding it well.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, focusing back on your task. “I’m fine.”

He set the bowl down with a decisive clatter and crossed his arms, leaning against the counter.

“Come on, Y/N. I know that look. Something’s bothering you.”

You hesitated, the weight of the past week pressing down on you again. Your hands stilled over the dough you’d been rolling out, and for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the faint hum of the oven preheating.

“It’s Franco,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

Lando’s expression shifted immediately, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he nodded. “What about him?”

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself.

“We had this… arrangement, you know? Fake dating, no strings attached. It was supposed to be easy. No pressure, no expectations. But I—” You stopped, your throat tightening.

“You caught feelings,” Lando finished for you, his tone gentle.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah. And I thought… I thought maybe he did too. He started acting differently—more thoughtful, more... I don’t know, affectionate. I let myself believe it was real.”

Lando stayed quiet, letting you get the words out at your own pace.

“But then, a few days after the Brazil Grand Prix, I saw videos of him circulating on twitter,” you continued, your voice trembling.

“He was with someone else. They were laughing, touching, and he didn’t even try to hide it. Like what we had meant nothing.”

You looked up then, blinking back the sting of tears.

“I feel so stupid, Lando. I knew what this was, but it still hurt. And now I can’t stop thinking about how I let myself get so caught up in something that was never real.”

For a moment, Lando didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, his blue eyes filled with a mix of sympathy and frustration—not at you, but at the situation.

Finally, he pushed off the counter and stepped closer, his voice firm but kind.

“Y/N, listen to me. You’re not stupid. You cared about someone, and you let yourself be vulnerable. That’s not stupid—that’s brave. And if he didn’t see how incredible you are, then that’s his loss, not yours.”

You swallowed hard, his words sinking in. “But I should’ve known better. I should’ve—”

“No,” Lando interrupted gently, his voice steady.

“Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself for feeling something real. He’s the one who messed up, not you. And honestly? If he couldn’t appreciate you, then he didn’t deserve you in the first place.”

You let out a shaky breath, his words chipping away at the knot of doubt in your chest. “You really think that?”

“I know that,” he said with conviction. “And if you ever need someone to remind you, I’ll be here. Always.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, and for a moment, all you could do was nod.

“Thanks, Lando,” you murmured, a faint smile breaking through the heaviness in your chest.

“Anytime,” he said, his grin returning. “Now, let’s finish these cookies before Max comes in here and accuses us of sabotaging dessert.”

You laughed softly, the sound feeling lighter than it had in days.

Together, you returned to the task at hand, the weight of your emotions lessened by Lando’s steady presence.

The cabin might’ve been chilly outside, but in this kitchen, surrounded by the smells of autumn and the warmth of genuine friendship, you felt a little closer to healing.

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watarfallar · 3 days ago

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BREAKING NEWS: Blonde bird boy and shirtless robot with a bee on a lead have me in a choke-hold!

Scar: What are amphetamines? Grian: Drugs that can go on land and water. Scar: Ohhhh.

Scar: What’s your favorite color? Grian: Stop asking stupid questions. Ask me something logical and mature. Scar: How many moles of sodium bicarbonate are needed to neutralize 0.8ml of sulfuric acid at STP? Grian: My favorite color is pink.

Scar: How do you want your coffee? Grian: Black, like my soul. Scar: Scar: Grian, your soul is a latte.

Grian: There's nothing to do…. Scar: You can wash the dishes you promised to wash about a week ago. Grian: pulls out their phone Nevermind.

Grian: Do you even have a plan? Scar: This is the plan! I break you out, chaos, destruction, something something something, we win! Grian: Oh, of course, the old “something something something we win”. That’s a terrible plan!

Scar: I am 39 cheetos tall. Grian: Why… are you measuring your height in cheetos? Scar: Because we're out of doritos.

Scar: Life is like Grian. It's short.

Scar: I’d kill someone if you asked me to. Grian: I’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if I didn’t ask you to.

Grian: If I die first, promise to wait up for me, okay, Scar? Scar: Oh, Grian. When I die, I’m taking you with me. Grian: I can’t tell if that’s a threat or a compliment. Scar: I’d think of it more as a grim inevitability.

Grian: Did you win? Or just not die? Grian: Either way, hooray. Scar: …Is "no" a valid answer? Grian: The hooray is redacted and you frighten me.

Scar: Help, someone at prom has been killed! Grian: Calm down, we don't need you to Panic! At the Disco.

Scar: How are you gonna carve a gigantic pumpkin? Grian: The same way I make onion rings! Grian: grabs a chainsaw

Grian: Scar, you're an asshole, man. Scar: You are what you eat Grian.

Scar: So, you lied to me? Grian: That depends on how you define lying. Scar: Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it? Grian: Um, reclining your body in a horizontal position?

Grian: "Go hang a salami" backwards is "I'm a lasagna hog". Scar: How did either of those sentences occur naturally for you to discover this?

Scar: Seriously, Grian, how many people would you have killed if we’d asked you to? Grian: That’s not important Scar: I DISAGREE.

Scar: Come on, Grian! How any times do I have to apologize? Grian: Once! Scar: …No.

Grian: I called you like ten times! Why didn’t you pick up? Scar: remembers dancing to the ringtone Scar: I didn’t hear it.

Grian: Scar, if you don't shut up I'm going to throw myself out of the car. click Grian: DID YOU JUST TURN THE FUCKING CHILDRENS' LOCK ON?!

Scar: Who's in charge here? Grian, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest.

Grian: If this plan goes down the drain, where should we regroup? Scar: The afterlife, I guess.

Scar: Would anyone know any good vendors for professional-quality brass knuckles? Grian: I know you’re serious, but you say the scariest shit sometimes.

Grian: Do we have any orange juice left? Scar: pours the remaining juice into their cup Scar: Sorry, we’re all out.

Grian: What must it be like to live in your head? Are there happy ponies in there? It’s really something how utterly delusional your optimism is. If I didn’t hate you so much, I might even be impressed. Scar: Huzzah! I got a heavily qualified and slightly sarcastic compliment from Grian!

#grian #gtws #incorrect quotes #desert duo #scarian #enjoy💜💜💜

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grlsbstshot · 1 day ago

Text

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: The crew deals with the aftermath of Jameson's album release party and makes major decisions about their futures.

Warnings: toxic relationship, mentions of therapy, emotional breakdowns, mentions of depression, deception in relationships -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 5.3k

Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes:

The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The aftermath of the disastrous album release party left Imani seeking solace in her hotel suite. As she lay in bed attempting to find sleep amidst the chaos in her mind, thoughts of Jameson consumed her. She couldn’t shake the image of him when first laid eyes on her at the party, or how he looked with Camille by his side. The way he wrapped his arm around her waist and held her close made her believe they were happy together but the look on his face made her feel completely different.

He didn’t resemble her Jameson anymore. He appeared…solemn and apathetic. He smiled and talked politely throughout the night but he didn’t seem to be the life of the party anymore. Then again – what did she know about him? It had been a year since they even laid eyes on each other.

After tossing and turning all night, Imani realized she had to let it go. It was time to get back to her life. The next morning, she woke up feeling restless but she forced herself through her usual routine. She took a shower, brushed her teeth, and ate breakfast.Then began coordinating a swift exit from New York with her assistant. The trip had been a disaster and she wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible.

As she was sending out an email, a phone number appeared on her screen. It wasn’t saved, but she knew exactly who it was. She had removed him from her contacts but she didn’t forget. Without hesitation, Imani answered on the second ring. “Hello?”

For a moment, there was nothing. He didn’t say anything. But when he did speak, it was like a shock to her system. “Hey. It’s me.” His deep voice was like an earthquake to her core. It left her brain scattered. She needed to think of something fast! This man shouldn’t get to affect her like this.

She laughed, “Yeah. I know, Jameson. What’s up?”

She could hear his hesitation over the line and wondered what this was about. “I was…If you’re still in New York, can we meet up? Lunch or something? I think we should talk.”

“Yes, that’s fine!” She answered eagerly, the pitch of her voice rising in anticipation. She quickly cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “I mean, yeah, we can go today.”

Once again, he got quiet. She expected him to call her out on her eagerness. Make a joke, tease her. But he didn’t. He seemed to be all business. “Two o’clock good? At Masa?”

“Yeah, that works. I’ll see you at Masa at two.” “Good. See you then.”

The call ended and her heartbeat tripled in speed. What the fuck did she just agree to? Why was he calling her? Why did he want to see her? Did he end things with Camille? Did he want her back? No, it couldn’t be that easy. He didn’t even flirt with her over the phone. Whatever he wanted, it made Imani nervous. She didn’t know how to handle the man he was now.

After coming face to face with Imani, Genie’s emotions were a rapid whirlwind, shifting from sadness to hurt and now settling into a wave of deep, seething anger. All she could think about that night was her former best friend barging back into everyone’s life without a word of warning. Understandably, her situation with Jameson became untenable and she had to walk away. Genie wanted the best for them both but sometimes love didn’t work out the way she thought it should. But never did she think Imani would cut her off without a word. She didn’t get it. She was her best friend.

She was pissed.

She decided she wouldn’t wait for Imani to reach out. If she did, she’d wait forever. She was taking control of their friendship. Determined, Genie called Imani’s assistant to find out where she stayed in New York. Aman Resorts. From there, it was nothing to get to Imani’s room. She practiced her speech the whole way, strutting down New York streets muttering to herself.

This wasn’t fair and Genie wasn’t going to stand for it.

When she arrived at the hotel, she immediately took the elevator up to the floor the assistant gave her. Genie fought to keep her composure despite the anger within her. When Imani’s voice rang out from behind the door, her stomach churned. Was this the path she wanted to take?

But it was too late. The door opened and Imani was there…looking at Genie in clear surprise. The girls looked at one another and before Imani could say a word, Genie wedged herself between the door and pushed her way inside. The aggressive action wasn’t part of her personality but she stuck with it.

It seemed the only way Imani would take her seriously was to make demands.

She marched past the foyer and found herself in the living room, waiting for Imani to join her. As soon as she heard the door close. She loosened the Chanel purse from around her arm, tossing it down onto the couch behind her as she paced the floor. She could hear the other woman approach the room and Genie whirled around, hurt in her tone. “Was it so hard to pick up the phone?”

To her credit, Imani apologized. Almost immediately. “Genie. I’m…I’m sorry. I–”

But she didn’t want an apology. She wanted answers. “You could have told me that you needed space. I would have left you alone. I wouldn’t have bothered you. I would have just checked in and we didn’t have to talk about Jamie. We could have just…” Her voice broke and tears glistened in her eyes as she fought against them. “You were my best friend. How could you?” The words spilled out before she could stop them.

“I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do after I broke up with Jameson.” Imani confessed, tears filling her own eyes. “I just knew I didn’t want to speak his name. I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Okay but you just left me.” Genie’s voice cracked with emotion. She was fighting a losing battle with her tears. They ran down her cheeks as she glared at Imani. “Out of everyone, you know I would have understood.”

Imani nodded, acknowledging that Genie was right. Being understanding was one of her greatest strengths…but also a flaw. She searched for the good in people every single time and she got hurt because of it. She didn’t want Imani to just be another person in the list of people who hurt her.

“I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for shutting you out. Please forgive me,” Imani begged, her voice pleading and sincere.

Genie’s anger faded as she saw the genuine remorse in her friend’s eyes...but it still lived within her. “I’ll work on it. Just…don’t shut me out like that again or I might kill you.” She wiped the tears from her eyes, sniffling.

The two women eyed one another warily but their love for each other couldn’t be denied. And just like that…there was a glimmer of hope that their friendship could be salvaged. All it took were some tears and a couple of apologies.

“I won’t.” “You promise?” “Of course.” “You swear?” “Yes.” “...Give me your pinky.”

Imani laughed, moving closer to Genie as she wiped tears from her own face and offered her friend her pinky. Genie linked hers with Imani and nodded, the action sealing the promise between them. Imani wrapped her arms around her in a tight hug. “I promise you I won’t. I missed you so much.” she whispered.

“I missed you too.” Genie replied and returned the hug.

“You want to help me pick an outfit? I’m about to go see Jameson in an hour.” Imani said softly.

Genie reared back, blinking at her in confusion. “You’re seeing wh—Oh my god, Imani. Does it ever end?! Show me your options.”

Coming face-to-face with Imani again might not have been the best thing to do. He was already struggling after seeing her last night. And that was only one time. He shouldn’t put himself through the torture of doing it again, but he had to. He had to see if she was alright. He had to reassure himself that leaving her alone was the right thing to do.

He waited for her at Masa, shuffling silverware around nervously as he waited to see her. Meeting in public wasn’t ideal – he knew people would talk – but it was better than meeting her alone somewhere. He needed to keep this above board. His relationship with Camille was developing well. She was good for him. His therapist encouraged him to make decisions that were best for him.

Panting after Imani wasn’t good for him. He spent six months of his life reaching for a bottle of liquor every time he thought of her, literally begging God to have her wake up and come back to him – only to see her leaving LA hotspots with her latest fling. He circled the drain when he couldn’t have her…and he was tired of living like that.

But it would be a lie to say that he didn’t miss or worry about her, so he hoped this could be a new chapter in their lives.

When he saw her being led to the table by a hostess, he rose from his seat. It was a reflex but he followed it. His gaze swept her frame, taking in the outfit. The dark orange bordering on brown. The way her pants hugged her hips. Her belly button piercing was clear as day. Fuck. He had to stop. If they were going to be in each other’s lives, he couldn’t think like this.

They were going to be friends and it was time to act like it.

“Hey Jamie,” she greeted him with a smile. “How are you?” She asked, sitting down.

“Hey. I’m..I’m good.” He said softly, staring at her as she took a seat. Eventually, he realized he needed to be sitting too. Jameson quickly sat and met her gaze with a smile. “Thank you for coming.”

She looked at him, pausing for a moment. “No problem. It’s nice to, um, see you again.” She said softly. This was a side of Imani he wasn’t used to. She was softer and more timid. He didn’t like it.

“We just saw each other last night.” he joked

She laughed, looking away. Imani pushed her hair behind her ear. “I—I know. I just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I’m glad I am though.”

“I’m glad too.” He said softly, gazing at her before remembering what he was there for. “I uh–I was worried about you. You left early and I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Again, she paused. She gazed back at him. He studied her facial features, looking for the answer she didn’t want to tell. “Oh, I’m fine. I was tired.” She said, her eyes giving away it being a lie. “Are you okay? You left your party early too.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just tired from finishing up the album.” he said. Their conversation was stiff and awkward just like how it was at his album release party. It didn’t flow like how he was used to.

“Well, um, I’m glad you’re okay, Jamie.” She glanced at him. This time he could tell she was being genuine. “That’s all I want. I want you to be okay.”

“I-I want that for you too, Imani.”

There was a pause. She didn’t speak. Neither did he. Jameson knew what he had to do coming into this conversation, but he was having difficulty finding the words to do it. He exhaled, his eyes meeting hers. “Cami and I are…we’re good together. We get along really well. No arguing, no screaming, no mistrust. We work and I want to see where it goes. She’s good for me.”

She nodded, her smile faltering slightly, but she quickly recovered it. “Good. I’m glad that you’re happy, Jameson. You deserve that.” She said softly.

“Thanks,” he said. “I want you to be happy too.”

“I am,” she said quickly. “I’m happier than I've ever been.”

Her bright smile remained, leaving him hopeful, but her eyes conveyed a different story. He wanted so badly to ask more questions. He wanted to see if she was telling the truth. One of the last things she ever told him was that she didn’t think he was her person anymore. Shouldn’t she be happier now?

And yet, he stopped himself from asking. He had to let her go for her to be happy. It was a thought he lived by for a year. That had to be true. She was better off without him.

“That’s good. I asked you here because I—I want us to be friends, Imani. We loved each other for so long. I won’t pretend I don’t worry about you. I do. So I want us to be okay with each other.”

She paused, glancing at him. “I…I’d like that. I want to be friends with you too. I miss your presence in my life, Jamie. And I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”

The words sounded nice and Jameson let himself trust in it…even if something in his chest tightened at them. He gave a nod, grateful that she wouldn’t just disappear from his life again.

She left lunch with Jameson, feeling bitter, annoyed, and lonesome. Yes, she agreed to be friends with him. Yes, their conversation seemed to flow after the initial stillness of discomfort. But she didn’t want any of this. She hated hearing him talk about how happy he was with Camille. They were supposed to be the perfect couple - never arguing, never screaming, always trusting each other – not him and Camille. Why couldn’t they get it together? She didn’t understand it.

Before coming to New York, Imani had been so sure of what she wanted - him. She thought it would be easy to win him back, to get back on the rollercoaster of their relationship. But now she could see that he was happily occupied with someone else, riding an easygoing kiddie ride with no thrill, and yet, he was having the time of his life. Imani was pissed. But there was nothing she could do about it; she had to move on, too.

As she rummaged through the clothes in her suite's closet, Imani searched for an outfit that would turn heads. Tonight was her last night in New York before returning to Los Angeles tomorrow morning. After forgetting to book a flight earlier in the day, she didn't want to spend her remaining time in the city sulking in her hotel room and watching Sex and the City. So when one of her industry friends mentioned a party just a few blocks away, Imani jumped at the chance to go out.

She stopped flipping through her clothes when her hands landed on a sleek black fitted dress. It hugged her curves perfectly - this was exactly what she needed.

The party was everything she had hoped for - alcohol flowing freely, fine ass men everywhere, and good vibes. It was the perfect distraction from Jameson. Imani took another shot of tequila and relished in its bitter burn as it slid down her throat.

“Okay, bitch, let’s go dance!” She exclaimed to her friend before they made their way from the bar to the crowded dance floor. The music was loud and pulsing, and Imani didn’t even know what song played, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was letting the beat move her body and forgetting about Jameson for the night.

As she danced, Imani could feel all eyes on her, but there was one set of eyes in particular that caught her attention. Through the dim lights, she could only make out a few of his features, but she recognized his gaze - he had been watching her all night. And she was sick of him just staring at her without saying a word. So Imani took matters into her own hands.

After the song ended, she confidently strutted over to where he sat. “You just gone stare at me all night and not say nothin’?” She asked with a sly smile as she finally got a good look of his handsome face. He had smooth caramel skin, his haircut was sharp like he just got it done, and a perfectly trimmed beard - exactly her type.

He chuckled and licked his full pink lips before standing up to meet her. Okay, he was tall too. Another plus. He stepped closer to her. “Oh, I was gon’ come talk to you. I was just waiting for the right time,” he replied, holding out his hand for her to shake. “I’m Isaiah and you?”

“Imani,” she said softly as she shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

"It's nice to meet you too, Imani." He smiled, flashing his diamond tooth fang. He pulled his hand away. Isaiah's neck, wrist, and earlobe were dripped in diamonds that danced harder than the crowd did. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. You can get me a lemon drop with a sugar rim."

He chuckled, "I like you already. You know what you want and I fuck with that." He said, a hint of admiration in his voice. She liked him too. Isaiah wasn't Jameson, but he was a perfect distraction to forget him.

EJ glanced at his phone, noticing the two missed calls. One from his manager and another from an artist he was working with while in town...but he had much more important plans going on then as he browsed the website of Aspen resorts. He leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs and rolling his shoulders. The faint sound of knocking at the front door pulled him from his hard work.

He carefully exited out of the browser before making his way to the door, hoping it wasn't Genie. He wanted to surprise her with dinner plans but hadn't even started to cook. Thankfully, it wasn't her. It was his best friend.

“Hey. What's up?" EJ said, opening the door wider to let him inside.. He noticed the tension in Jameson’s posture, the way his fingers twitched against his thigh. “I know you left early last night. You good?”

Jameson sulked into the room and dropped into the chair in the attached living room, taking a deep breath as his face clouded with something heavy. “I had lunch with Imani today.”

EJ shut the door behind him because he knew he was in for one hell of a story but he did his best to keep his tone neutral. “And?”

“And…” Jameson hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I asked her to be friends.”

He took a seat across from Jameson, crossing his arms as he leaned back. He didn’t miss the way Jameson avoided his gaze and he immediately braced for bad news. “That’s…progress, I guess. But you don’t sound convinced.”

Jameson exhaled sharply, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “It doesn’t feel right. I thought it would. I thought that time apart would make things easier when we saw each other again but it's like..." He shook his head, his voice dropping. “It’s like nothing’s changed. I’m still drawn to her. And I hate it because Camille deserves my best.”

EJ frowned, his jaw tightening. He cared about Jameson, but he wasn’t about to sugarcoat things. “You’re right—she does. She’s good for you, man. She’s steady, supportive, and she actually cares about your well-being. She’s not a tornado like Imani.”

Jameson shot him a look, defensive and protective all at once. “Imani ain't a tornado. I put her through a lot of shit. She had to choose herself first.”

EJ held up a hand, waving off Jameson's defense. “Yeah, you did. It was fucked up. But that being said...she made the choice to walk away. That means staying away. And maybe I'm being a dickhead about it but you gotta admit -- shit with her has always been…complicated. Even when y'all were good, shit could go left within a minute. With Camille, it’s simple. She’s there for you, no drama, no games. She’s what you need, not just what you want in the moment.”

He could see Jameson mulling over his words, the conflict etched across his face. EJ hated seeing his friend like this, but he wasn’t going to let him spiral back into the mess he’d clawed his way out of.

Jameson finally spoke, his voice quiet. “But it ain't that simple. My head knows Camille’s the better choice, but my heart…Man, my heart starts thudding every time Mani girl looks at me. I sat with her at lunch and I just wanted --” He trailed off, shaking his head.

EJ sighed, leaning forward. "Let me know when she looks at you and I'll tell her to close her eyes."

"EJ, c'mon." "No, you c'mon. You spiraled, Jay. Your mama had to move into your house and take care of you." "I was fine. She was being dramatic." "You weren't eating." "I ate!" "Barely! You barely ate enough to get through the day but you drank enough to get through anything. Y'all were rocky before then you cheated but after that, everything got all fucked up."

Jameson looked up at EJ, seemingly wounded by the mention of his infidelity. He saw it was the root cause of all their problems but he was being foolish. He and Imani started having issues before he cheated. “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy. But you’ve worked too hard to get your life back on track to throw it all away for something that might not even work out. Camille’s solid, Jameson. You and Imani keep burning each other. Stop the cycle.”

Jameson nodded, but EJ could tell he wasn’t fully convinced. He’d seen that look on his friend’s face before, the one that meant he was caught in a tug-of-war between his past and his present so EJ decided to give him something else to think about. “Speaking of relationships…I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Jameson looked up, his expression curious. “What’s that?”

EJ hesitated for a moment, a rare flicker of nervousness passing through him. Then he smiled. “I’m going to ask Genie to marry me.”

Jameson blinked, leaning back in his chair. “Wait—what? You’re serious? You’ve only been together a year,” He was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. “Are you sure about this?”

"Of course I'm sure," EJ muttered defensively. "That's my baby. She's sweet, creative, and intriguing. I ain't never met anybody like Genie in my life. She makes me happy and I want to spend the rest of my life making her happy."

Jameson processed what EJ was saying, and a small smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay. Good. Soft ass. Should I give you the speech?”

"What speech?" "That "If you hurt my sister, I'ma knock ya head off your shoulders" speech?" "Ain't nobody scared of your big ear ass."

Jameson got up, jokingly taking a swipe at EJ but the other man was much faster. He dodged out of his chair and laughed out loud. "I'm gonna need your help to do it. I want to catch her off guard. You, her dad. She loves Aspen. So I'll do there in February."

“Anything you need,” Jameson said without hesitation, though he still looked a little stunned. “You’ve got it. Just let me know.”

EJ nodded, a rare moment of vulnerability settling over him. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

"Well, let me get out of here. I got dinner plans with Cami." Jameson said, heading to the door before pausing and turning back. He clapped EJ on the shoulder. "You're a very blessed man. Genie's had a heart of gold since she was a kid. If she's your soulmate, God really did smile down on you."

EJ smiled wistfully, his tone soft as he spoke of Genie. "Believe me. I know how lucky I am."

His mind still lingering on his conversation with Jameson when he heard the door to their rental open. Knowing it was Genie, EJ got up and went to the kitchen to make her some tea. "Duke?" She called out, using the nickname he had grown fond of. "You here, baby?"

"Kitchen!" He called out and sure enough, she came around the corner looking every bit as serene and graceful as she usually did. "I take it you feel much better now?"

The past few months had been rough for her. She was building resentment and anger. It was the total opposite of her everyday persona but watching her now...it seemed that she had managed to handle those feelings very well.

"I do. I saw Imani this morning."

EJ’s body stiffened for a moment before he forced himself to relax. He didn't hate Imani but he was always on edge. She had the power to twist his two favorite people into knots and he didn't like that. “Yeah? How’d that go?” He beckoned her closer and she came to wrap her arms around him.

“It was…unexpected,” Genie admitted. “But we talked. We cried a little bit. I think we’re going to work on our friendship going forward."

“That’s good, my love,” EJ said sweetly, turning his head to kiss her as he waited for the kettle to warm. "I'm happy for you both."

Genie tilted her head, watching him carefully before she uttered her next words. "She also told me she was going to have lunch with Jameson.”

Even though he knew it, he still felt his stomach drop into his feet. Imani didn't even know how much power she had over Jameson. She had him rethinking his entire relationship with a woman he'd been with for six months. One sighting, two conversations...and he was considering throwing it all away. EJ schooled his expression, wanting to appear neutral to his girlfriend. “I know. He came to see me after.”

Her eyebrows lifted, curiosity in her eyes. “Really? What did he say? What'd they talk about? I didn't call Mani to ask. I didn't want to be too nosy.”

EJ hesitated, then gave her a reassuring smile. “He said they talked about being friends. They agreed. And uh -- that it felt like a step in the right direction.”

Genie studied him for a moment, brows furrowed. She knew it didn't sound like Jameson. But then...stranger things had happened than him practically growing up and being mature. She seemed to accept his answer with a nod, placing her head on his shoulder. “Maybe it is. I hope so -- for both of them.”

The kettle whistled on the stove and EJ reluctantly pulled away, lifting his hand to pat her bottom gently. "Go get comfortable. I'll make you a cup of tea and we can talk some more."

She gave him a beautiful smile and nodded obediently, practically skipping out of the kitchen giddily. He liked making Genie happy. If he had his way, he'd see nothing but bright smiles and happy giggles from her for the rest of her life.

EJ finished up in the kitchen, making her tea and finding a snack for her to nibble on before dinner. Taking care of Genie was one of his main priorities. It was why he rationalized lying to her about what Jameson said.

As he exited the kitchen and moved into the living room, she was stretched across the couch, knit blanket across her legs as she scrolled her phone. Her hair was curled, pulled into a ponytail. She hadn't even tried and she was gorgeous as hell. “I was thinking we should take a trip. We go back to Cali next week but maybe sometime soon -- we can go somewhere. Take a little trip?” He told her, setting the tray down as she pulled her feet up, giving him room to sit.

Her eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Really? Where to?”

“Anywhere you want,” EJ said with a grin. “But...I've been looking stuff up in Aspen. That house you told me about? Talked to the owner. She'll let us rent it for a week in February.”

Genie’s smile softened, and she shifted closer, tucking herself under his arm. “You're too good to me, Ellington Dupree.” She didn't say anything more but she clung to him and he knew she was grateful.

“Please. This is nothing. Wait til we're together for ten years. I'm going to be hella annoying.” EJ said, pulling her into his side and resting his chin on the top of her head. “I want to make some time for us. No distractions, no work -- just enjoying life together."

EJ kissed the top of her head, feeling a pang of guilt for the lie but knowing it was better this way. “You know what? Maybe we should make this trip a family thing. Bring your dad? I can bring my mom and sister?"

Genie looked up at him, surprised but intrigued. “That’s actually a great idea. They’d love that.”

EJ smiled, brushing a curl from her face. “Good. Let’s do it.”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if a thought came to her.

"What?" "Hmm? Nothing." "You sure?" "Yeah. Us and our families. Sounds perfect."

She smiled, leaning into him. “Thank you. For everything.”

EJ kissed her forehead, holding her tightly. As they sat together in the quiet of the house, he felt a sense of calm settle over him. He was making the right decision. He wanted this for the rest of his life.

The lights of New York spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Camille’s penthouse. it was a beautiful view but Camille wasn't looking at it. She stood at the kitchen island, her phone buzzing incessantly on the marble countertop. Even glancing at the screen made her nervous.

[ +33123456789 ]: What's going on, Cam? [ +33123456789 ]: Are you seriously not going to tell me? [ +33123456789 ]: You're temporary, remember that.

Camille exhaled sharply, locking the phone and setting it face down. She poured herself a glass of wine, trying to push the words from her mind. Meeting Jameson was never supposed to make her feel anything. He was a handsome face that a friend wanted for herself. Camille's job was just to see if he was open to seeing someone else. Sleeping with him and falling for him wasn't part of the plan. But he was on the verge of being hers now and what her friend wanted didn't really matter anymore.

Even if guilt gnawed at her. The knock at her door startled her, and she quickly smoothed her silk robe before padding over to answer it.

The object of every thought she seemed to have lately stood on the other side, his tall frame illuminated by the hallway light. In his hands were two lush bouquets of roses, one red and one pink.

“Good evening." he said with a soft smile, cradling the roses in his arms.

Camille’s heart fluttered as she took him in. 6'3, solid frame, the most beautiful green/blue/whatever damn color they felt like being eyes? Jameson Lucas was one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen...and she spent all her time with male models. "Roses? You’re spoiling me, Mr. Lucas.” She moved aside, letting him inside as she reached for the flowers.

“I would hope so.” Jameson replied, stepping inside as she moved to place the bouquets in vases. He had been to her place much more than she had been to his so he shut the door behind him -- getting comfortable. "I like the look in your eyes when I do something nice for you. It's very sexy."

Cami glanced over her shoulder at him, her lips curving into a playful smile. “You’re laying it on very thick tonight. What’s the occasion? You missed me?"

Jameson shrugged out of his jacket, kicking off his shoes and lining them up perfectly against the wall in her living room. "Yes." He called out to her, following her into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, watching her with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “But no other occasion. I just wanted to see you..”

Even as her hands finished arranging the flowers in its vase, Camille's face was hidden behind the beautiful roses. Her cheeks were warm as she turned to face him. “Well, you’ve seen me.” she murmured, not looking at him as he rounded the corner and stepped into her space.

“Not enough,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist. Jameson pressed his head against hers, tilting his head to kiss her shoulder. "I told you. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately."

"Thinking what about me?" "Everything." "Mhm. I know what that means. You cannot put me in that position again. You almost broke my hip last time."

His humorous laugh warmed her heart and she was proud of herself for being the one to make him happy. Her breath caught as he reached for her hand, his fingers warm against hers.

“I"ve been thinking...I want you to be my girlfriend,” Jameson said, his voice steady. "I've been taking things slow because -- of the past. But I have to look forward. No second guessing. You're good for me. I like being good for you. If you would have me, I want to keep building on this."

She turned in his arms, the smile that spread across her face absolutely illuminating. “I wouldn't mind building a life with you.”

"Very enthusiastic response here." He grinned, dipping his head to give her a kiss. She melted against him, the laughter bubbling in her chest gone. The warmth and the steady beat of his heart grounded her. This was real. He chose her...over Imani. This didn't feel temporary.

"I didn't expect to care about you like this." She confessed against his lips, clinging to him tightly. Her hand moved from his, sliding up his wrist. Her fingertips grazed the watch he always wore and then moved to his biceps. He was hers. All hers. "I believe in you and I want you. I'm crazy about you. How's that for enthusiastic?"

“Very good. I like it." He sighed. "You make me happy,” he murmured into her ear.

“You make me happy too.” she replied, her voice soft.

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other, swaying in her kitchen. When he pulled back, his lips brushed hers in a tender kiss that left her breathless.

She didn't let herself think back to those messages. Even if Jameson found out, she didn't think he'd care. Neither of them meant to get serious about each other. It didn't matter why she had approached him. Only that she did and they hit it off.

She pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the way he held her, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the world. For now, she could let herself believe in this—believe in them.

#aaron pierre #megan thee stallion #aaron pierre x black!oc #megan thee stallion fanfic #aaron pierre fanfic #megan thee stallion x black!oc #black!oc #celebrity fanfiction #celebrity ocs #fic: neon lights #Spotify

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zylokv · 3 days ago

Text

KEY TO CHAOS — myoui mina

❝ you're my spouse on paper, however you're not my responsibility.❞

synopsis — revelation at its finest.

word count ! — 6,4k

— myoui mina x reader !

notice — heavily inspired by @neoplatinum, aswell as cozuzi and a bit of queen of tears.

disclaimer ! — this story is a work of fiction. the portrayal of characters, events, and relationships does not reflect the real lives or personalities of any individuals mentioned. themes of infidelity and emotional conflict are explored, but the intention is not to glamorize toxic behavior.

series masterlist !

part four !

the event is in full swing, laughter and chatter filling the air as people mingle. mina’s family spared no expense, of course. the garden is illuminated with twinkling lights, tables laden with food and drinks, and a small orchestra playing softly in the background.

hiro sits on my lap, his small fingers curiously tugging at the bow tie around his neck. “you don’t like it either, huh?” i chuckle, loosening my own tie to match.

hiro rests easily in your arms, his tiny hand clutching at your tie as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever held.

“you’ve got quite the grip, little man,” you murmur, watching him curiously. “must’ve gotten that from your mom. she’s got the same tenacity—doesn’t let go of an argument either.”

hiro gurgles in response, his wide eyes fixated on you, and you laugh quietly. “oh, you think i’m kidding? wait until you’re old enough to see her in action. your mom’s like a storm, and you—” you brush a finger over his soft cheek, smiling. “you’re the calm after.”

“you’re really something, you know that?” sana’s voice interrupts gently from beside you, and when you glance over, she’s watching you with a faint smile.

“what can i say?” you reply, shifting hiro in your arms and giving her a wry grin. “he’s an easy audience. laughs at all my jokes.”

sana chuckles, reaching out to pat your shoulder lightly. “that’s because you’re talking about mina. everyone knows you’re a sucker for her.”

“oh, absolutely,” you say, pretending to whisper conspiratorially to hiro. “don’t tell her, though. she might start taking advantage of it.”

hiro babbles in agreement—or maybe dissent—and sana outright laughs this time, a soft, genuine sound that surprises you.

“you’re good with him,” she says after a moment, her tone quieter now. “and with mina.”

“i do my best,” you reply, glancing down at hiro again. “though sometimes i feel like i’m just making it up as i go.”

“well that's parenthood,” she teases, her hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer before she steps back, letting her gaze drift to the koi pond.

hiro coos again, and you look down to see him reaching for sana. “see? even he thinks you’re alright,” you say, grinning.

“well, he’s got good taste,” sana quips, but there’s a warmth in her smile that’s hard to miss.

as much as i’m enjoying the moment, i need a break. handing hiro over to sana, who happily takes him, i excuse myself and wander through the dimly lit paths of the estate.

my steps lead me to the side garden, quieter here, the sounds of the event muffled. i’m distracted enough that i don’t notice the figure until i bump into him.

“watch it,” i mutter, stepping back and glaring. it’s sehun.

his smug smile makes my blood boil instantly. “well, well,” he drawls, brushing off his suit. “if it isn’t the perfect spouse.”

“why are you even here??” i snap, already regretting not avoiding him.

he pulls a usb drive from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers before tossing it at me. i catch it, glaring at him.

“consider it a favor,” he says smoothly. “you saved me and my family from that scandal. think of this as my way of saving your life.”

my grip tightens on the usb. “what’s on here?”

“answers,” he says cryptically, his smirk widening. “but be careful. you might not like the questions.”

“why shouldn’t i knock you out right now?” i growl, stepping closer.

he shrugs, completely unfazed. “because you’re smarter than that. besides,” he adds, his voice dripping with fake sincerity, “i’m thankful. truly.”

without another word, he walks off, leaving me standing there seething and confused.

shaking my head, i pocket the usb and head to the bathroom. splashing cold water on my face, i lean against the sink, trying to make sense of what just happened.

eventually, i make my way back to the party. sana’s still there with hiro, now gently rocking him in her arms. she looks up as i approach, frowning slightly.

“you okay?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

i hesitate but nod. “yeah. just… ran into someone.”

“seems like it rattled you.” she raises an eyebrow, watching me carefully.

“it’s nothing,” i lie, taking hiro from her arms and holding him close. but my mind’s already spinning, the usb in my pocket burning like a brand.

before i can dwell on it further, i feel a pair of familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind. “there you are,” mina murmurs, her voice low and warm against my ear.

i turn slightly, and she’s looking up at me with a smile that sends a rush of warmth through my chest. her lips brush against my jaw, lingering just a moment longer than usual.

“i missed you,” she says softly, her fingers tracing lazy patterns against my shirt.

“didn’t think i was gone that long,” i joke, but my voice comes out a little breathless.

“too long,” she counters, tugging me closer. her gaze flickers to hiro, and she presses a soft kiss to his forehead before turning her full attention back to me.

“you look stressed,” she observes, her hands sliding up to straighten my collar, a hint of mischief in her eyes. “maybe you should take a break from the party…”

“baby,” i start, but her lips are already brushing against mine, silencing whatever excuse i was about to make.

it’s quick, fleeting, but the promise in her gaze as she pulls back makes my pulse race.

“come find me later,” she whispers, her tone leaving little room for interpretation.

hiro babbles in my arms, pulling my attention back just enough to keep me grounded, but mina’s touch lingers like a ghost, her warmth impossible to ignore.

-----

the faint click of mina’s heels echoed through the penthouse as she stepped inside, her posture as poised as ever, though a hint of fatigue lingered in her movements. the day had been long—meetings at the myoui corporation rarely allowed for anything less—but the sight before her was enough to soften the sharp edges of her mood.

you were sprawled on the living room floor, hiro in your lap, both of you surrounded by a colorful mess of building blocks and toy cars. hiro squealed with laughter as you made exaggerated engine noises, pushing a tiny car toward him.

“incoming! brace for impact!” you said dramatically, making hiro giggle so hard he toppled over.

mina leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “hard at work, i see.”

“very important business,” you replied, glancing up at her with a playful grin. “hiro’s been giving me driving lessons. apparently, i’m a terrible driver.”

hiro chimed in with a cheerful babble, as if to prove your point, sending another car skidding across the floor.

mina chuckled softly, slipping off her heels and stepping closer. “sounds accurate.”

you feigned offense, placing a hand over your chest. “et tu, mina? my own wife, siding with the critic!”

hiro clapped his hands, clearly entertained by your theatrics. he made grabby hands reaching for mina.

she scooped him up effortlessly, holding him close. “hi, baby,” she murmured, her voice tender as she kissed his cheek. “did you miss me?”

hiro nodded enthusiastically, wrapping his tiny arms around her neck. the sight made your chest ache in the best way—a moment of softness amidst the chaos of life.

“you two looked like you were having fun,” mina said, glancing at the mess of toys.

“he’s a harsh boss, but the pay’s great,” you quipped, getting up and stretching. “all smiles and giggles.”

mina gave you a knowing look, her eyes softening. “you’re good with him,” she said quietly, almost as if the admission surprised even her.

you shrugged, trying to downplay the compliment. “he makes it easy.”

hiro yawned then, rubbing his eyes, his energy finally winding down. mina looked at you, and you nodded toward the nursery. “i’ll handle it,” you offered.

“let’s do it together,” she said, surprising you.

the two of you guided hiro to his room, the bedtime ritual filled with whispers and soft laughter. once he was settled, you kissed his forehead and stood back as mina brushed his hair gently, her expression unreadable yet serene.

when you stepped out, closing the door behind you, mina sighed lightly, the sound breaking the quiet of the hallway.

“we need to leave soon,” she said softly, slipping her arm through yours as you walked back to the living room. “the party is this weekend, and i don’t want us scrambling at the last minute.”

you chuckled. “scrambling is my middle name. but don’t worry, we’ll be ready.”

mina gave you a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. she glanced toward your office door, her fingers brushing her wrist. “i don’t know why, but… i’ve had this strange feeling all day. like something’s coming.”

“something good, i hope?” you joked lightly, trying to lift the mood.

“maybe,” she said, but her gaze lingered, just for a moment, on the small desk in your office, where a single usb drive sat, unnoticed. then she turned back to you, shaking her head as if to dismiss the thought. “let’s just enjoy tonight.”

you nodded, squeezing her hand. “sounds like a plan, boss.”

her smile grew, and with that, the two of you settled into the evening, unaware of the weight the future would soon bring.

-----

the gentle hum of the yacht’s engines barely masks the murmur of conversations and clinking glasses. you’re on the upper deck, sharing light banter with sana and momo while trying to stay out of the spotlight.

“you’re really not built for this scene, are you?” sana teases, her eyes flicking over the polished crowd below.

you shrug. “never claimed to be.”

momo chuckles. “at least you’re honest. i’d say you’re doing fine. no one’s thrown you overboard yet.”

just as you’re about to retort, a familiar voice interrupts. “wow. never thought i’d see you here.”

you freeze, the playful smile on your face faltering. turning slowly, you find yourself face-to-face with kim jennie, her expression a mix of surprise and amusement. she’s dressed in something sleek and black, the kind of outfit that screams understated elegance.

“jennie…” her name feels heavy, like saying it aloud makes everything from the past resurface all at once.

“i didn’t know you’d climbed so high up the social ladder,” she says, her tone dripping with curiosity and something else—something smug. “this isn’t really your scene, is it?”

before you can respond, momo steps forward, her eyes narrowing slightly. “who’s this?”

“an old friend,” jennie answers for you, her gaze fixed on you, like momo isn’t even there. “we go way back.”

“really?” sana crosses her arms, her protective stance almost comical if it weren’t for the tension in the air.

you glance between them, your heart racing. “it’s fine. jennie’s… not a threat.”

jennie’s smile widens, and she steps closer, her voice dropping just enough to be intimate. “not a threat? you wound me.”

“what do you want?” you ask quietly, trying to ignore the way her presence makes you feel—conflicted, nervous, and a little exposed.

“what i’ve always wanted—to talk to you.” she glances at sana and momo with a faint smirk. “unless your new bodyguards don’t approve?”

“bodyguards?” sana scoffs. “oh, please.”

jennie chuckles, leaning in closer to you. “you’ve changed,” she murmurs, her voice soft but teasing. “but not completely. you’re still nervous.”

“i’m not—” you start, but she interrupts by wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a sudden, unwelcome hug. “i missed you,” she says, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

that’s when mina appears.

the tension on the private deck feels suffocating, the hum of the yacht’s engines doing little to mask the storm brewing in mina’s sharp gaze. she stares at jennie for a moment, her confusion evident before her expression morphs into something closer to disdain.

“and you are?” mina asks, her tone icy, the slight tilt of her head exuding condescension.

jennie’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second before she recovers, her voice dripping with forced confidence. “kim jennie. i’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

mina blinks, her lips curling into a mocking smile. “oh, should i have? forgive me. the name doesn’t ring a bell. are you someone important?”

you glance between them, your heart sinking as you see jennie’s composure start to crack.

“important enough,” jennie replies tightly, her smirk struggling to hold. “but i suppose not everyone keeps up with those at the top.”

mina chuckles softly, shaking her head. “the top? darling, if you were anywhere near the top, i’d know. you’re barely even a blip on the radar.”

jennie’s expression hardens, her pride clearly stung. “funny, coming from someone who didn’t even know about their partner’s past.”

mina’s smile vanishes, her eyes narrowing. “and what exactly are you implying?”

“oh, just that your precious partner and i were engaged once,” jennie says smoothly, her gaze darting to you for maximum effect.

the air grows colder. mina’s laugh is low and dangerous, her hands slowly crossing over her chest. “engaged?” she repeats, as though the word itself is offensive. “to you? now that’s the funniest thing i’ve heard all evening.”

“it’s true,” jennie presses, taking a small step forward. “but i suppose they didn’t think you were worth knowing the whole story.”

mina’s eyes narrow to you, her rage sharpening like a blade. “engaged?” she spits, her voice teetering between disbelief and fury. “you were fucking engaged? not just a little girlfriend, but a full-blown fiancée?”

“mina, it’s not what it sounds like—”

“so, it is true,” she cuts you off, her voice low but seething. she turns back to jennie, her disdain reaching new heights. “you were engaged to them? how quaint. and yet here you are, clinging to their shadow like an embarrassing footnote.”

jennie bristles, her smirk dropping entirely. “careful, myoui. you might want to check your facts before acting so high and mighty.”

mina’s laugh is low and menacing, her fists clenching at her sides. “you think this is a joke? i could ruin you, kim. i could make sure the entire kim family crumbles beneath their precious name. your little corporation? gone. your face? wiped from every corner of the industry. you’d be lucky if you could scrape by selling knockoff jewelry on the street.”

“oh, come on,” jennie presses, stepping closer. “don’t be so mad. you didn’t think you were their first, did you?” her smirk deepens. “although, i’ll admit, i thought i’d be the last.”

“get out,” mina says through gritted teeth, her voice trembling with restrained fury.

jennie straightens herself, trying to retain some dignity she had left. “oh, mina. you’re so predictable. it’s almost boring.”

before anyone can stop her, jennie leans in, her lips brushing your cheek in a deliberate, calculated move.

the world seems to stop for a second, the touch burning like a brand.

and then mina snaps.

before anyone can react, mina grabs a glass of champagne off a nearby table and tosses it in jennie’s direction. the liquid splashes across her pristine black dress, and jennie lets out a shocked gasp.

“are you fucking insane?!” she roars, lunging toward jennie. you barely have time to grab her arm, holding her back with all your strength.

jennie steps back, scoffing slightly when she sees the tainted stain in her designer dress. “relax, mina. it’s just a goodbye. no harm in that, right?”

“goodbye? goodbye?! you’re about to say goodbye to your fucking career!” mina’s voice shakes with fury, her arm trembling in your grip. “let me go,” she snarls at you, her glare cutting like a blade. “let me fucking handle this.”

“mina, please,” you plead, your heart racing as you glance around, thankful that the deck is private. if anyone had witnessed this, the headlines would be catastrophic.

“you like making a scene, don’t you?” mina sneers. “well, here’s your fucking scene. you can explain to everyone why you’re soaking wet—and why you’re about to be thrown off this goddamn yacht.”

jennie’s eyes widen. “you wouldn’t—”

“try me,” mina snaps, stepping closer until she’s nearly nose-to-nose with her. “because right now? I’d love nothing more than to see you flailing in the fucking ocean.”

“mina, stop,” you beg, grabbing her arm.

“no! they don’t get to walk away like this!” mina turns her glare back to jennie, her voice dropping to a deadly calm. “you have five seconds to leave before i personally make sure the kim name gets wiped off every relevant ledger in korea.”

jennie chuckles, raising her hands in mock surrender. “well, this has been… entertaining.” she glances at you one last time, her smirk returning. “i see your taste hasn't changed”

and with that, she saunters away, leaving behind a storm of rage and chaos

“you listen!” she rounds on you, her hands shaking. “what the fuck was that? were you seriously just going to stand there like an idiot while your ex has the audacity to put her hands on you?”

“i didn’t ask her to—”

“but you didn’t stop her either!” her voice cracks, raw and vulnerable beneath the anger. “do you know how humiliating that was for me? do you even care?”

you open your mouth to respond, but her words keep coming, unstoppable and cutting.

“and her—the audacity she has to act like you’re still hers? does she not know who the fuck i am? do you not know who i am?” she steps closer, her eyes burning into yours. “because i can remind both of you. i’ll make her regret even looking in your direction, and you—you better start know where your loyalties lie, or so help me—”

“mina,” a voice cuts in, and you glance to see momo and sana standing nearby, both wide-eyed.

momo whistles low under her breath. “holy shit.”

sana, meanwhile, places a hand on your shoulder, her expression a mix of pity and slight amusement. “good luck,” she murmurs, patting you twice before stepping back.

mina turns to them, her glare making both of them tense. “what are you looking at?”

“nothing,” momo says quickly, raising her hands in surrender. “absolutely nothing.”

when they leave, mina’s shoulders heave with her rapid breaths.

“i can’t fucking believe this,” she mutters, her hands running through her hair as she paces. “unbelievable.”

you stand there, unsure of what to say, the weight of her anger settling like a storm cloud over the two of you.

“mina,” you say softly, careful not to push too hard.

“you don’t need to waste another second thinking about her,” you continue. “she’s nothing compared to you, mina. you know that, don’t you?”

mina exhales sharply, crossing her arms as she paces. “it’s not about her being nothing—it’s about the audacity. she thinks she can just—just touch you, talk to you like that, after everything? and then act like i’m the one overreacting?”

you step into her path, gently catching her by the shoulders. “you’re not overreacting. she crossed a line, and you had every right to put her in her place.”

mina’s gaze flickers to yours, searching your expression for something.

“but,” you continue, “i don’t want you to carry this anger. it’s not worth it. let me handle her from here, legally and otherwise. you don’t need to waste your energy on someone so beneath you.”

she huffs, her frustration ebbing slightly. “and what if she tries something again?”

“she won’t,” you say firmly. “i’ll make sure of it. if she does, she’ll regret it in ways even she can’t imagine. i’ve handled worse than her, mina. trust me.”

mina’s lips press into a thin line, but the tension in her shoulders eases just a little.

you guide her to the seating area on the deck and gently sit her down, kneeling in front of her. “you’ve been carrying this whole night on your shoulders, haven’t you? dealing with guests, smiling for appearances, and then this? you don’t have to do it alone, mina.”

she exhales, leaning back slightly as she studies you. “you think you’re so smooth, don’t you?”

you shake your head. “I’m not going to let her get away with this.”

mina lets out a low, humorless laugh. “you think she cares about laws? she’s shameless.”

“then i’ll make her care,” you reply, your voice hardening. “if she tries to push her luck again, i’ll file a restraining order. Hell, i’ll drag her through court for every slight against you. I’m a lawyer, mina. i know how to win, and i’ll do it for you.”

mina stares at you, her anger simmering down into something else—something softer.

“and another thing,” you add, stepping even closer. “you’re worried about her touching me? don’t be. i didn’t ask for it, and i sure as hell didn’t want it. you’re the only one who has a place in my life, mina. not her. not anyone else.”

mina exhales sharply, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “you always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

for the first time all night, a genuine smile tugs at her lips, even if it’s faint. she reaches out, her hand brushing yours. “you really are lucky i married you.”

“luckiest person alive,” you reply, standing and offering your hand.

she takes your hand, rising gracefully to her feet. “fine. but don’t think i’ve forgiven you for not telling me about her being your ex-fiancée.”

“i’ll make it up to you,” you mumble, squeezing her hand lightly. “as many times as it takes.”

“you’re dangerous,” mina mutters, but there’s a hint of pride in her voice.

“only when someone messes with you,” you reply, leading her back inside.

-----

you’d never been one for early morning jogs, but with hiro gone with sana, as well as mina gone working for a few hours, it seemed like a good way to clear your head. sweat dripped down your temple as you trudged up to the penthouse door, already regretting not bringing water. as you reached for the handle, your eyes snagged on a package sitting neatly on the doormat.

a box.

not just any box—fancy. clean lines, rich leather accents, and a ribbon so perfectly tied it looked like it had been crafted by angels.

your first thought? "is this a bomb?"

but then again, what kind of assassin spends that much on aesthetics? shaking your head, you muttered under your breath, “no way someone’s going full james bond to take me out. right?”

after a long, overly dramatic stare-off with the box, you picked it up and carried it inside.

“okay, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, setting it on the counter. “it’s probably from mina. or…. mina..?” you trailed off, suddenly unsure.

peeling back the ribbon, you found a letter on crisp, expensive paper, no signature, no name. just a simple line:

"for you. something that matches your worth."

“cryptic. love that,” you muttered, fishing through the box.

and then, your heart stopped.

a pair of ferrari car keys rested snugly in velvet, gleaming like they held the secrets of the universe.

your jaw dropped. “no way.”

half-jogging, half-sprinting, you grabbed your phone and bolted to the building’s parking level. a sleek ferrari sf90 sat under the dim lights, its pristine red exterior practically glowing.

“holy shit,” you whispered, fumbling with the keys. a quick press, and the car chirped in response.

it was real. it was yours.

sliding into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t resist pulling out your phone, snapping a picture as you grinned like an idiot, one hand on the steering wheel. you sent it to mina with a simple caption:

"look what showed up today!"

mina’s reply came fast. "you bought this? without telling me?"

your fingers hovered over the screen, your excitement faltering. “wait. mina didn’t you buy it?”

before you could type more, your phone ringed. it was her.

“hello?” you answered, still grinning.

“you didn’t buy it?” her voice was calm, but there was an edge—cold, sharp. “then who did?”

“i thought it was you,” you said, scratching your head. “i mean… it’s my dream car. you didn’t—?”

mina’s silence was deafening. then: “why would i buy you a car and not tell you?”

“uh…”

“and why would someone else buy it for you? who?” she demanded, her voice dipping into that dangerous, territorial tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

“mina, i don’t know!” you said, defensive. “it came with an anonymous note! look, i’ll figure it out. but isn’t it gorgeous?”

“that’s not the point,” she snapped, and then, softer, with a touch of embarrassment, “i didn’t even know it was your dream car.”

“well, now you do,” you teased lightly, though her reaction had your heart sinking just a little.

she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “don’t touch it until we figure out who sent it. i don’t like this.”

“seriously?” you whined, slumping in the seat. “you’re going to make me leave it here?”

“yes,” she said firmly, then hung up before you could argue.

sighing, you stared at the car’s flawless interior. “well, this sucks,” you muttered, reluctantly stepping out.

as you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back, a pang of longing twisting in your chest. whoever sent this wasn’t just rich—they had taste. but something about it didn’t sit right.

and mina’s unease? it wasn’t going anywhere.

-----

mina’s office was immaculate, its minimalist decor reflecting the precision with which she managed her empire. she leaned back in her leather chair, phone still clutched tightly in her hand. the call with you had ended minutes ago, but the sharp edge in her voice lingered, echoing in the silence of the room.

“dahyun.”

the door to her office creaked open, and dahyun stepped in hesitantly, clutching a tablet. her composed exterior betrayed a flicker of unease as she caught sight of mina’s expression—cold, calculating, and ever so slightly unsteady.

“yes, president myoui?” dahyun’s voice was even, though her fingers tightened around the tablet.

mina didn’t look up immediately. her nails tapped against the desk in a rhythm that matched the clipped cadence of her words. “i need you to go to the penthouse. now.”

dahyun blinked, processing the suddenness of the order. “to… your penthouse? is there an issue?”

mina’s gaze snapped up, and dahyun stiffened under the weight of it. “someone sent them a car,” mina said flatly. “a ferrari.”

“a car?” dahyun echoed, momentarily thrown off. “as in—”

“a ferrari sf90,” mina interrupted, the words laced with a bitterness that made dahyun’s stomach churn. “in red. parked at the entrance of my penthouse.”

dahyun’s jaw tightened as she nodded. “understood. i’ll—”

“find out who sent it,” mina continued, her voice cutting through dahyun’s attempt to speak. “i want every detail—who, how, why. and i want their connections traced. personal, professional, everything.”

“of course,” dahyun said quickly, her pen already moving across her tablet.

“also…” mina’s voice dipped, a hint of something darker curling around the edges. “reach out to ferrari’s local representatives. find the top five models—not just any. the best. i want them bought, prepped, and delivered within the week.”

dahyun froze for a fraction of a second before nodding. “for the penthouse garage?”

mina finally leaned forward, her elbows resting on the desk as she steepled her fingers. her expression softened, but only slightly, as she murmured, “for my spouse. but make sure they know it’s from me. no anonymous packages, no surprises. understood?”

“understood.” dahyun turned to leave but hesitated at the door. “president myoui, if i may—do you believe this is a threat?”

mina’s gaze flickered, just for a moment, betraying the undercurrent of unease she so carefully concealed. “if it’s not a threat, it’s a provocation. either way, i don’t take kindly to either.”

dahyun nodded and exited swiftly, her heels clicking against the marble floor.

alone once more, mina stared out the vast glass windows of her office. her reflection gazed back, a mask of calm, but beneath it, her mind raced. who would dare try to undermine her like this?

she tapped her phone against the desk again, lips pressing into a thin line.

whoever it was, they’d soon learn what it meant to challenge a myoui.

-----

you toss your phone onto the couch after finishing the call with mina, her cold tone still lingering in your mind. grabbing a towel, you wipe the sweat off your neck, muttering to yourself, “ferrari drama—what even is my life now?”

the shower feels like a reset button, washing away the lingering tension. when you step out, you grab your phone again, scrolling aimlessly through your messages. your thumb hovers over sana’s chat. she’d probably have something sarcastic to say about the whole ferrari thing, and honestly, you kind of want that right now.

how’s hiro? terrorizing everything already?

it takes less than a minute for her to reply.

of course. he takes after you. he’s currently declaring war on some poor stuffed giraffe.

you chuckle, shaking your head as you pace around the living room, still drying your hair. boredom creeps in, and before you know it, your fingers are typing again. yeah, and i have some drama to tell you. drama? oh, you’re coming over. hiro misses you anyway.

you don’t need more convincing. grabbing your keys, you head out, opting for a casual drive to sana’s place.

when you arrive, you open the door quickly while it swings open. hiro waddles toward you, his tiny hands outstretched.

“there’s my guy!” you scoop him up, laughing as he babbles something incomprehensible. sana leans against the doorframe, watching with a smirk.

“wow, i can tell you spoil him,” she says, closing the door behind you.

“can you blame me?” you joke, setting hiro down as he toddles back to his toys. you flop onto the couch, letting out a dramatic sigh. “so, where’s momo?”

sana shrugs, plopping down in a chair across from you. “dunno. she said something about errands. why, you miss her?”

“not particularly,” you say, smirking. “besides, i came here for the better company.”

“flattery will get you nowhere, and i'm saying that to momo,” she quips. “so, what’s this drama you were dying to tell me about?”

you lean back, running a hand through your hair. “someone gave me a ferrari.”

sana blinks, then bursts into laughter. “wait, wait, hold on. someone gave you a ferrari? what are you, a lottery winner now?”

“i wish,” you say, shaking your head. “no idea who it’s from. it just showed up at my doorstep with a fancy box and a key.”

“and you just… took it?” sana looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“what was i supposed to do? leave it there and risk someone else taking it?”

“wow.” she leans back, crossing her arms. “so, let me get this straight. someone mysteriously sends you a car, and instead of thinking, ‘this is sketchy,’ you think, ‘free ferrari’? you’re unbelievable.”

you shrug, grinning. “what can i say? i like nice things.”

hiro, oblivious to the conversation, crawls onto your lap, clutching a toy car in his tiny hands. “look, hiro already approves,” you say, holding up the toy. “he’s clearly a car enthusiast, just like me.”

sana rolls her eyes, laughing. “you’re both ridiculous.”

“ridiculous? or ahead of the curve?” you shoot back, bouncing hiro gently on your lap. “you’re just jealous no one sent you a ferrari.”

“oh, please.” sana leans forward, resting her chin in her hand. “even if someone did, i wouldn’t be dumb enough to actually drive it. what if it’s, like, a bribe or something?”

you snort. “a bribe? for what? to win over my nonexistent loyalty?”

“i mean, you are a lawyer,” she says, smirking. “who knows what shady deals you’re unknowingly part of?”

“says the woman who’s friends with someone who owns a ferrari.”

“correction—mysteriously owns a ferrari,” she quips, her grin widening. “and for the record, you’re lucky mina didn’t immediately torch the thing out of spite.”

you pause, recalling mina’s initial reaction. “oh, she was mad.”

“mad? understatement of the year,” sana says, leaning back with a knowing look. “you know, if i were her, i’d be freaking out, too. mysterious car, anonymous gift, my partner looking all cute— it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“cute?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, don’t let it go to your head,” she says, waving you off. “i’m just saying mina’s reaction is totally valid. i mean, who wouldn’t feel a little threatened?”

“right, because i’m so irresistible,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“hey, your words, not mine.”

hiro clung to your neck like a koala, his little hands tugging gently at your shirt. you sat back on the couch, settling him on your chest while sana perched on the armrest, her gaze curious.

“okay, spill,” she said, crossing her arms. “who sends you a ferrari? is it someone trying to one-up mina or what?”

you snorted, running a hand through hiro’s soft hair. “god, i hope not. mina was already ready to storm the gates when i told her about it.”

sana leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “so you really don’t know who sent it? no guesses?”

“none.” you shrugged, trying to seem indifferent even though you could tell sana was practically vibrating with curiosity. “it’s probably nothing. mina doesn’t even want me driving it. she said she’d ‘take care of it.’”

“take care of it?” sana echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that sounds ominous.”

“it’s mina. ominous is her second language.” you smirked, glancing at hiro, who was now dozing off. “besides, it’s not like i’m keeping it. mina thinks it's ridiculous. I'd say she's just jealous.”

sana shook her head, her laugh light but tinged with disbelief. “you’re way too chill about this. if someone sent me a ferrari, i’d at least want to know who thought it was worth it to give me something like that”

“that’s because you’re nosy,” you teased, adjusting hiro carefully. “i’m just trying to survive mina’s jealousy and keep the peace.”

sana rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “whatever, mystery car owner. just know, if it were momo, she'd be driving that thing straight out of the city before mina even got a whiff of it.”

“yeah, and she'd probably crash it before she hit second gear,” you shot back, earning a playful swat to your shoulder.

as the playful banter subsided, you glanced down at hiro, whose peaceful face was a stark contrast to the storm of events swirling around you lately.

“he’s really got you wrapped around his little finger, huh?” sana remarked softly, watching you.

“yeah,” you murmured, your voice fond. “can’t say i mind, though.”

sana smiled, her usual mischievousness giving way to something warmer. “you’re good with him. i can see why mina fell for you.”

you glanced up, surprised by her sincerity, but she quickly waved you off with a smirk. “don’t let it get to your head. you’re still a pain.”

“thanks, sana,” you deadpanned, shifting to lay hiro down gently on the couch.

the conversation fizzled out as you both sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day settling in. still, you couldn’t help but feel that the mystery surrounding the car—and the sender—wasn’t over yet.

-----

you’re sprawled on the living room floor, glasses perched low on your nose, dressed in an old white t-shirt and grey sweatpants that have seen better days. hiro sits cross-legged beside you, his tiny hands fumbling with the colorful puzzle pieces you’ve been trying to help him with.

“it’s this one,” you say, pointing to a bright red piece. “look at the edges. see how it matches?”

hiro scrunches his face in determination before carefully slotting the piece into place. his delighted squeal is worth every second of the struggle.

“genius,” you declare, dramatically clapping your hands. “einstein would be jealous.”

“you really know how to hype someone up,” mina’s voice floats from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder to see her leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, an amused smile on her lips. she’s dressed in a sleek coat and tailored pants, every inch the composed heiress, but the fondness in her gaze softens her usual edge.

“hey, if you’ve got it, flaunt it,” you shoot back, pushing your glasses up. “though between the two of us, i’m not sure who’s rocking this look better.” you gesture at yourself, all rumpled and casual.

“no contest,�� she quips, stepping into the room. “you win. i love when you wear your glasses"

hiro toddles over to her, raising his arms for her to pick him up. she obliges, balancing him on her hip with practiced ease.

“i need to head out,” she says, her tone casual. “dad's been missing hiro, and i thought… why not?”

you nod, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “i've heard. but good luck getting him to sit still in the car. he’s been full of energy all morning.”

“i think we’ll manage,” she replies, leaning in to brush a kiss against your cheek. “don’t work too hard while we’re gone.”

“me? overwork? never,” you joke, watching as she heads for the door.

the door closes behind them, and the apartment feels eerily quiet. you linger for a moment, staring at the spot where they stood, before heading to your office to skim through some briefs.

but as you sit down, your eyes fall on a small usb drive resting near your keyboard.

you’d forgotten all about it.

you pick it up, turning it over in your fingers. it’s nothing special—just a plain black drive—but your mind immediately goes to sehun. he’d handed it to you a week ago with a cryptic smile and a vague, "but be careful. you might not like the questions."

curiosity gnaws at you as you pick it up and plug it in. the screen flickers, and a folder opens automatically, revealing a list of files.

you scroll through, your frown deepening with every name you read.

dec7_met.docx.

p.i_report.pdf.

report_m_final.zip.

a strange, creeping unease settles over you as you spot a file named

{redacted ;)}

your chest tightens.

clicking on it reveals more files: a string of emails, blurry photos, and video clips. your heart pounds as you scan the dates—one in particular standing out.

{redacted ;)}

hovering over a video file, you hesitate. the cursor trembles, and every instinct screams at you to stop.

but you don’t.

you click.

the screen darkens, and the video starts to play.

-----

end of part four.

a/n — i'm so sorry for publishing late lmao i've been busy with school because for some reason school already started and we have no break ;-; AND ITS ALMOST MY BDAY GRAHHHHHHH

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atangledfate · 3 days ago

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The mouse was glad that the man let it go, as she didn't wish to get Altriss involved. She knew how rough around the edges the old Doc was, and how straight forward he could be. The last thing she wanted to do was get him involved, especially with how hectic everything was. She wasn't sure why the Lemur requested no one be let in to see her, but they would honor it even if it was making the Mouse uncomfortable.

With things back to normal the facility was as busy as ever, with the various nurses going about there duties. Though Dawn herself would be happy when this chaos was over and she could rest. Holding this many clones for so long wasn't easy but, it wouldn't be the first time she'd had to do it. Of course just when she thought the menace as over she was startled by the female Lemur.

The Clone opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the head nurse, or in this case the original Dawn. She hoped a person of authority would put Miss Grimrose in her place and quell the situation but--- she had a feeling she'd be a problem.

" Hello Miss Grimrose, I am Head Nurse Dawn of Restoration Medical Staff. As you can clearly see the attack on Restoration has taken a heavy toll on its staff. Between the crash, and GUN at our doorstep we are in a state of high alert--- As such i am sorry but none one is allowed in without clearance by either a commanding officer or the doctor himself. "

She took a deep breath and gave the elder woman a stern stare down as she felt like this woman was going to be a problem.

" You are within your right to file grievance, though suing restoration would be a bad look for any firm don't you think? Your daughter will be out of our care in next 32 hours... 24 hours if she takes to her treatment. I'm happy to answer any questions concerning her condition to you but i will not let you disturb her while she is recovering... and i'm not about to interrupt Doctor Altiss's work for this either... and trust me--- you do not want to interrupt him with this. "

Dawn took another deep breath and gave Claire a firm star down with her gaze going from the usual sweet natured nurse. To one of icy steel, as she wasn't budging on the issue. She had an overbearing mother to--- and lord she felt bad for Tangle now.

" Your Daughter is an Adult Miss Grimrose, and of sound mind and body. If she doesn't want to see you right now, You should respect that... especially when you know she's ill, or injured... especially when you know she's resting and recovering. Yell at her later when she's recovered, have this argument with her when she's well and mentally prepared. But--- i won't hesitate to throw you out of this facility if you cause a scene... are we clear? "

"Just make sure to move it along as quick as you can." Twist didn't expect the doctor to rush, though didn't want him dragging his feet either. For now the lemur would take a seat, sitting stern and with his arms crossed. Seems he wasn't one to let himself relax much if at all, though he did use to be a soldier himself and still had a strong mindset for it as well.

A few minutes would pass before another lemur wearing a business suit walked in looking rather annoyed as she walked over to Twist. They would seem to be having a quiet argument before she would make her way to the nurse. "Excuse me, my name is Claire Grimrose. Knowing my daughter I'm sure she requested none see her, though I am legally put as a health care proxy which I can enforce if I think she is making poor medical decision. So, why don't you hurry along and get the doctor so we can sort this out, yes?" She spoke with a rather sweet yet threatening tone.

#Restoration Medical Staff #Nurse Dawn #Overbearing Mom #Claire Grimrose

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jetii · 2 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Twenty-Three: Determination

Chapter WC: 13,883

Chapter Warnings: drama!!! some wound stuff, obligatory emotional turmoil tag even though we all knew that was coming

A/N: I am back! I was able to build up my draft chapter backlog again, starting with this one. It's a lot, but we can all rest easy knowing this will be the last one like this for a while.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

???, 21 BBY

The moment the two of you step into the hallway, it becomes clear that this isn't a minor glitch or an unexpected turn of events.

The alarms are still blaring, and the ship's computer is still repeating the same message over and over again, and the emergency lighting has turned the hallways into a sea of red and black, making it difficult to see where you're going. Rex and you hurry towards the bridge, following the trail of panicked troopers and harried officers as they rush around, trying to get the situation under control.

Halfway there, a group of troopers rush past you, and one breaks away, waving the others on as he jogs towards you and Rex. You spot the Republic cog on his faceplate and feel a flood of relief.

"General, Captain," Jesse salutes, sounding a bit breathless. His helmet is slightly askew, and his armor is covered in dust, his boots scuffed and dirty. You watch as he glances down and freezes, and it’s only then that you realize Rex is still holding your hand.

"Jesse," Rex greets, not letting go, and you do your best to keep a straight face as Jesse clears his throat. "What's going on?"

"There’s been an explosion in the engine bay," he answers quickly. Rex's grip on your hand tightens, and Jesse gestures down the corridor, his voice rising over the alarms blaring. "One of the hyperdrives blew out and triggered the failsafe on the others.”

"How did this happen?" you ask sharply. You have no idea what the technicalities are behind hyperdrives and how they work, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand the implications of Jesse's words. A single failure means that the ship is now stranded in the middle of nowhere. A series of failures means something else entirely. "Are we—"

"It's going to take some time to figure out the cause, General," Jesse interrupts, his voice tight. He glances around nervously and drops his voice to a low whisper, his words almost lost beneath the roar of the alarms and the chaos surrounding you. "But I think someone set off an explosive charge on purpose."

“Sabotage?” Rex repeats incredulously. He looks at Jesse in shock and lets go of your hand, stepping closer, his voice rising above the noise. "Are you sure?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense," Jesse replies grimly. "We're lucky the blast didn't kill anyone."

"We need to get to the bridge," you say quickly, and Jesse nods, motioning for you to follow him.

You and Rex fall into step beside him, the three of you weaving through the chaos, dodging around the crew and the troopers who are rushing in the opposite direction. You reach the doors to the bridge and wait impatiently as they open, the three of you stepping through, and the alarms cut off abruptly. The room is eerily quiet after the loud commotion of the corridor, and it takes a moment for your ears to adjust.

The bridge is a hive of activity, with everyone doing their best to deal with the emergency, but as soon as you enter, all eyes are on the three of you, the expressions ranging from fear and worry to anger and confusion. Anakin and Ahsoka are standing around a holotable with Admiral Yularen and a handful of technicians, their voices raised in anger, and their attention shifts to you as you approach.

“It’s about time you showed up," Anakin snaps, his jaw clenched, and you frown at his tone. His eyes move between you and Rex, his lips curling into a sneer. "We're in the middle of a crisis here. What took you so long?"

The immediate urge to defend yourself rises up inside you, and your hands clench at your sides, a surge of indignation rushing through you. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rex tense and shift on his feet.

He glances at you, and the two of you share a look, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, a reminder to stay calm. You take a deep breath and force your expression into a mask of calm.

"What's the situation?" you ask, ignoring Anakin's question, and Rex moves closer, standing beside you. His presence is reassuring, and you can't help but think of what happened just minutes ago. What might've happened if the two of you hadn't been interrupted.

A flush creeps up your neck, and you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. There'll be plenty of time to think about that later.

"We're in trouble,” Anakin growls.

"I'd gathered that," you reply dryly. Ahsoka and Jesse glance at each other, the former rolling her eyes, the latter shaking his head. Rex shoots you a warning look, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes as well, turning back to Anakin. "Do we have a damage report yet?"

"Most of the main systems are offline," Yularen replies, his voice calm and collected, a stark contrast to the anger and frustration emanating from the two of you. "And we've lost contact with the rest of the fleet."

"What does that mean exactly?" you ask. Yularen takes a deep breath and glances at Anakin, who waves his hand impatiently, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He turns back to you and gives you a grim look.

"We're trapped in the middle of nowhere," he answers flatly. "At the current speed, it'll take us over two months to reach Kamino, and that is if we make it through the Rishi Maze.”

"Is the hyperdrive salvageable?" Rex asks, his eyes moving between the admiral and the techs, who are all shaking their heads. He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, his brow furrowing. "So what's the plan?"

"We're going to have to repair the ship and wait for help," Ahsoka says, her hands on her hips, and you can hear the frustration in her voice. You look at her, and she meets your gaze, her expression hardening. "I'm working with the maintenance crews to fix the engines. It shouldn't take more than a few hours."

"We need to figure out why this happened," you add, turning to Jesse, and he nods, his expression solemn. "Did you find the source of the explosion yet?"

"Not yet, sir," he replies.

"I'll help with the investigation," you offer. Jesse and Rex exchange a look, and you can sense their unease. Jesse frowns, his eyes narrowing slightly, and his gaze moves between the two of you. "What?"

"With all due respect, General," Jesse says carefully. He looks at Anakin, and when the other man doesn't speak, he continues. "This may have been an attempt to assassinate a high-ranking officer. If it was, the investigation will need to be handled with discretion. Someone on board this ship might be the culprit."

"And by handling the investigation discreetly, you mean not including the person being targeted in the investigation," you retort, crossing your arms over your chest, and Jesse winces. Rex sighs and steps forward, his hand reaching out to grasp your shoulder, giving it a small squeeze. You shrug him off and glare at Jesse. "That's not happening."

"If it was an attempt to kill you, General, it's possible that the attacker will try again," he explains, his tone apologetic. He hesitates, and when you don't respond, he squares his shoulders. “It would be safer if you were to stay on the bridge."

"He's right," Ahsoka adds. She meets your gaze, her eyes full of concern, and her voice is gentle. "You'll be safer up here."

"I can handle myself," you snap, and Ahsoka shakes her head.

"We know that," she replies. She motions to the holotable, and her mouth curves into a small smile. "But let us handle this. Okay? We'll figure out what happened. I promise."

"Fine," you mutter, and Rex gives you a sympathetic look, his hand returning to your shoulder. He squeezes it once more and turns to Jesse, his expression shifting from sympathetic to stern.

"Let me know if you need anything," Rex tells him.

"Will do, sir," Jesse nods. He looks at Ahsoka and tilts his head towards the door, and she falls into step beside him, the two of them heading towards the exit, their voices low and urgent. You watch as they leave, and a pang of regret shoots through you.

"This is bad," Anakin mutters. You glance at him, and his eyes meet yours, the irritation and anger gone, replaced by weariness and worry. He sighs and runs a hand over his face. "Sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"It's okay," you sigh, and he snorts, giving you a wry smile. You shrug and look away, a grimace twisting your face. "Well, it's not. But I get it."

"Thanks," Anakin mutters. He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze moving between you and Rex. "Can you two make sure everything is under control? I need to go speak with the Chancellor."

"Of course," Rex answers. Anakin gives him a curt nod and turns away, marching towards the door with Yularen at his heels.

You watch them go, the unease in the pit of your stomach growing. The thought of having to stay on the bridge while everyone else does their best to fix the situation makes you want to scream. The desire to run off and search for the culprit is overwhelming, but you know better than to do that.

And even if you didn't, Rex wouldn't let you.

"You're not happy about this," Rex murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"No, I'm not," you admit. You turn to him, and he raises an eyebrow, his lips curving into a faint smile. You narrow your eyes and poke his chest. "This is not funny."

"I didn't say anything," Rex chuckles. You glare at him and cross your arms over your chest, and he gives you a sympathetic look. He lifts his hands and rubs them over his face, letting out a tired sigh. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For earlier," he says quietly, and a rush of heat floods your body. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"Rex..."

"It was inappropriate," he says, cutting you off, and the guilt in his voice makes your heart ache. His head drops and he rubs the back of his neck, a small frown tugging at his lips. "I...I don't know what I was thinking."

"Hey," you say, and his eyes snap up to yours. "It's okay. It's...we're both stressed and worried. We're dealing with a lot right now."

"That's no excuse," he mutters. His brow furrows and his gaze drops, and the shame and guilt that emanate from him are so strong that it takes everything in you not to reach out and pull him into your arms. But you can't do that. Not here. Not now. And not until the two of you have talked about what happened.

"Look, we'll talk about it later," you tell him gently. He glances at you and nods. "Okay?"

"Yeah," he sighs, and you can feel his mood shift, the tension and stress melting away, replaced by a quiet resignation. His shoulders slump, and a resigned smile spreads across his face. "You're right."

"I usually am," you joke. Rex rolls his eyes, and you give him a quick grin before looking around the bridge. "Alright, we should—"

"General," a technician interrupts. He gestures towards the holotable, and you walk over, Rex following close behind. The image of a star chart is projected above the table, and the technician taps on the display, zooming in on the image. “We’re receiving a distress signal from a nearby planet. It's coming from the surface."

"That's odd," Rex mutters, his brow furrowing. He leans closer and studies the image, his head tilting to the side. "There aren't any habitable planets in this system."

"Maybe it's automated," you suggest.

"Possibly," the technician agrees.

He taps a few more buttons, and the image changes, showing the planet from above. The landscape is covered in a dense, gray fog, obscuring most of the details. You can just make out the outline of a single structure, surrounded by a ring of large, craggy rocks. The technician points to a small, blinking dot on the display.

"The signal is coming from a small outpost on the planet. The inhabitants appear to be human colonists, but it's unclear who they are."

"It could be Separatists," Rex murmurs. He looks at you, and you can see the concern in his eyes. "They could've staged this attack and then fled to the planet. They could be waiting for us."

"Maybe," you reply. Your eyes return to the display, and you frown, a familiar feeling tugging at the edge of your senses. There's something about the planet that's nagging at you, and you can't quite put your finger on it. "There's only one way to find out."

"Are you suggesting we send a squad down there?" Rex asks, shaking his head. "We can't risk a confrontation. We don't have the manpower or the resources to handle another fight."

You look back at the image and nod slowly. The more you think about it, the more certain you are that the feeling is the Force telling you that there's something important on the planet. You take a deep breath and meet his gaze.

“No, I’m suggesting that I go down there," you tell him, and Rex's expression turns incredulous, his eyes widening.

"You're kidding," he says, a note of disbelief in his voice. He straightens his back and shakes his head. "No. No way. You're not going down there alone."

"Yes, I am," you argue, and Rex glares at you, his hands moving to his hips. At your side, the technician shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking between the two of you. "There's a chance that whoever's down there might need our help. If they do, I have a duty to assist them."

"Your duty is to stay here," Rex counters. "On the ship. Safe and sound. Away from any potential danger."

"Don't be dramatic," you scoff. "I'll take a ship, go down there, check it out, and then come right back. Simple."

"Simple," he repeats. He lets out a frustrated sigh and looks up at the ceiling, shaking his head. "Nothing is ever simple with you. You know that, right?"

"I'm aware," you reply dryly. Rex huffs and rubs the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the floor. His expression is strained, and he's doing his best not to look at you. He knows that if he does, you'll be able to convince him, and he doesn't want that.

You wait, watching as he tries to come up with an argument, but it's obvious that he's struggling. He knows that the odds are against him, and the longer he stays silent, the more difficult it is for him to find a valid reason. Neither of you are willing to concede.

"Please," you finally say, and his eyes flick up to yours, his brow furrowing. You meet his gaze and offer him a small smile. "I have a feeling that I should go down there."

"A feeling," he repeats. He lets out a deep, weary sigh, and his shoulders slump. "Fine. But I'm going with you."

"No," you protest, but Rex shakes his head.

"Either I go with you or you don't go," he says firmly. He folds his arms across his chest, his expression hardening. "Pick."

"You're not serious," you retort, but Rex doesn't budge, and a heavy silence fills the air. The technician shifts awkwardly and clears his throat, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"I can arrange for a shuttle," he offers, and Rex gives him a curt nod.

"Thank you," he says. The technician hurries away, leaving the two of you alone. Rex looks at you, and his expression softens, his lips twitching upwards. "Don't argue."

"I'm not arguing," you retort, and he snorts, shaking his head.

"You always argue," he points out. He glances around the bridge, and his eyes settle on a group of troopers gathered near the far wall. "I'm going to see if anyone's willing to volunteer for the mission."

"We're not telling them about the distress signal," you tell him quickly.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want anyone else to go down there," you explain, and his eyebrows rise.

"You want to keep this a secret?" he asks, his tone disbelieving.

"I'm not trying to keep it a secret," you reply, and his eyebrows rise higher. You let out an exasperated sigh and shake your head. "I'm trying to protect them. If the Separatists are down there, they're going to be heavily armed and dangerous. I'm not sending anyone else down there."

"And if they are, and it's a trap?" Rex counters.

"Then, I'll have you," you retort. You tilt your head to the side and smile. "You'll keep me safe, right?"

"Always," he says quietly, his expression growing serious. The two of you hold each other's gaze, and you can sense the conflict and worry radiating off him. After a moment, his eyes move to the side, and he rubs the back of his neck, his expression shifting into a frown. "We should get ready."

"Agreed."

The two of you turn and head for the exit, falling into step beside each other. As you step into the corridor, the alarms blare once again, and you wince, the sudden loud noise catching you off guard. The red lighting flashes and casts a crimson glow over the hall, and the computerized voice calls out over the alarms.

"Attention. Attention. This is an emergency..."

Rex shakes his head and grumbles under his breath. You give him a sympathetic look and reach out, squeezing his arm.

"Come on," you murmur. He nods and follows after you as you make your way through the ship toward the hangar where the shuttle is waiting. It's not a long trip, and you don't say anything along the way, the two of you lost in your own thoughts. The unease that has been building inside you grows with every passing second, and by the time you reach the hangar, you're certain that this is a bad idea.

"Rex," you start, but he cuts you off, grabbing your arm, pulling you to the side. A group of troopers rush past, their armor reflecting the red glow from the lights, and the two of you stand there, watching them run by. When they're gone, he lets go and sighs.

"Whatever happens down there, we stick together," he tells you. You nod, and his hand reaches out, gripping your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Got it?"

"Got it," you reply, and he smiles and lets go, taking a step back. He turns and walks away, heading for the shuttle, and you follow after him, doing your best to keep the doubt from showing on your face.

The Twilight is already prepped and ready to go, the ramp lowered, the engines sputtering. The idea of taking Anakin's prized freighter without him knowing isn't exactly appealing, but it's not like the two of you have a choice. And besides, it's not like you'll be gone for long. You'll just take a quick look, check out the situation, and then get the hell out. Simple.

"Sir!" A voice calls out as you and Rex scale the ramp. Jesse jogs over, his helmet tucked under his arm. "What's going on? Why are you leaving?"

Rex looks over at you and tilts his head towards the entrance of the hangar, gesturing for you to go ahead. You nod and step inside, moving towards the cockpit, leaving the two of them alone. As soon as you're out of earshot, you slow down, stopping just outside the door, listening to their conversation.

"We're going on a mission," Rex answers. You hear the clink of his boots against the durasteel decking and a small thump, probably him setting down his helmet.

"What mission?" Jesse asks. You lean against the wall, watching as he frowns and looks at Rex, his expression skeptical. "General Skywalker said we should stay here and fix the ship."

"Something's come up," Rex replies, and Jesse's frown deepens. He glances towards the cockpit, and you move further away, pretending to inspect the wiring. You watch as his eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"Does it have anything to do with why you were late to the bridge earlier?" he asks. Rex hesitates, and Jesse's gaze moves back to him, his expression turning suspicious. "Sir, did something happen between you and the General?"

"It's none of your business, Jesse," Rex tells him sharply. You wince, and Rex glances towards the cockpit, his eyes locking onto yours, his cheeks flushing slightly. He gives you a tight smile and looks away, clearing his throat. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. There's...there's a lot going on."

"Is she in trouble?" Jesse presses, and Rex sighs, shaking his head.

"Not yet," he answers. "But there's a chance she might be, so we're going to check it out."

"We?"

"Yeah," Rex replies. He takes a deep breath and runs a hand over his head, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I'm going with her."

"Of course you are," Jesse snorts, and Rex looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Sir, with all due respect, this is not the time for the two of you to be sneaking off together," Jesse says, his voice rising slightly, his tone growing agitated. Rex winces, and his eyes move to you again, and you can feel the guilt radiating off him.

"We're not sneaking off together," he tells Jesse, his tone firm. "And even if we were, that's not any of your business. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Jesse replies. He pauses, and you watch as his eyes move back and forth, his mind working furiously. "Well, if you're going, I'm going too."

"That's not—"

"I know, I know," Jesse interrupts, holding up his hands, and he gives Rex a small grin. "The General doesn't want anyone else involved. But if she's in danger, it's my duty to protect her. If you're going, I'm going."

"It's dangerous," Rex warns.

"We're soldiers. That's our job.," Jesse replies. He shrugs and gestures towards the shuttle. "And besides, I can't leave you two alone. You might do something stupid."

"Like what?" Rex scoffs, and Jesse smirks.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, his tone casual, but there's a hint of a teasing edge to his voice. "Do I really need to spell it out?"

Rex scowls and looks away, his cheeks reddening, and Jesse lets out a small laugh, shaking his head.

"Don't worry, sir," he assures him. "Your secret is safe with me."

"There's no secret," Rex grumbles. Jesse rolls his eyes and claps him on the shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look.

"Whatever you say, sir."

The two of them start up the ramp into the shuttle, forcing you to dart into the pilot's seat. You pretend to fiddle with the controls, and a few seconds later, they enter the cockpit, both men looking at you expectantly.

"All set?" Rex asks, and you nod.

"I think so," you reply. You glance between the two of them, a frown forming on your face. "Jesse, why are you here?"

"He's coming with us," Rex says, and you can feel your frown deepen.

"I said that no one else was coming with us," you argue. Jesse shrugs and sets his helmet on the console.

"With all due respect, General, I'm coming anyway," he tells you. His tone is polite, but the stubborn set of his jaw and the determined look in his eye make it clear that he won't be easily swayed. "You might need backup."

"We'll be fine," you snap, and Rex sighs.

"Let him come," he says quietly. His eyes lock onto yours, and when you see the pleading look in them, you give him a frustrated huff.

"Fine," you mutter.

"Good," Jesse grins, and you roll your eyes.

"Whatever," you grumble, and you start flipping switches, the engines roaring to life, the controls lighting up. The three of you strap yourselves in, and you grab the controls, guiding the ship out of the hangar and into space. As soon as you're clear, you tap the coordinates for the planet, and the autopilot takes over, guiding the ship towards its destination.

You turn to Jesse, who's busy checking his equipment, and point at the viewport. "This is a reconnaissance mission. We're going to take a look, check out the situation, and then get the hell out. Got it?"

"Got it," Jesse agrees. You glance at Rex, who gives you a small nod, and the three of you settle in, watching the stars streak past the viewport. After a few minutes, the planet comes into view, the gray mass looming in front of you. You frown and peer out at it, watching the fog clouds roil and swirl. Something about the planet gives you a strange, uneasy feeling, and you can't shake the feeling that this is a bad idea.

"General," Rex says softly. You look over at him, and he raises an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine," you reply, and his eyes narrow. He doesn't believe you, but you don't want to worry him. Or Jesse. Or yourself, for that matter. You push the feeling aside and gesture towards the planet. "Let's do this."

The shuttle descends, the planet growing larger as it approaches. You lean forward and watch as the fog begins to part, revealing the surface. As you get closer, the details become clearer, and the gray landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. There's nothing green or brown or blue, just the same endless gray expanse. The only landmark is a small cluster of structures near the edge of the horizon.

You frown and press the controls, the shuttle changing course, angling towards the buildings. You scan the area and let out a soft sigh. There's no sign of life anywhere.

As the shuttle continues its descent, the fog closes in, and the ground becomes obscured. The buildings loom ahead, and you adjust the course, flying over the structures, circling around. The shuttle's scanners sweep the area, searching for any signs of life, but there's nothing. No movement. No heat signatures. No signs of any living creature.

"It's deserted," Rex says quietly. He glances at you, and his expression hardens. "Are we sure this is the right place?"

"Yeah," you reply. You look out the viewport, watching as the structures pass by beneath the shuttle, and the uneasiness inside you grows. The Force is telling you that there's something important on the surface, and the feeling is growing stronger with every second. "We should land and check it out."

"That's not a good idea," Jesse protests. He leans forward and points towards the edge of the fog. "We can see the outpost from here. We can scan it and get a better look without putting ourselves at risk."

"There's something here," you tell him, and Rex gives you a sharp look. You shake your head, ignoring his concern, and focus on Jesse, doing your best to keep the doubt from showing on your face. "We need to find out what it is."

"General—"

"Jesse," Rex interrupts, and the other man sighs. He rubs the back of his neck, a frustrated look on his face, and he glances between the two of you.

"Alright, alright," he finally relents. He unbuckles his harness and stands, grabbing his helmet, pulling it over his head. "I'll do a quick sweep, and then we can head back. Sound good?"

"Perfect," you smile, and Jesse grunts, walking past the two of you, heading towards the ramp. You wait until he's out of earshot before looking over at Rex, and the moment your eyes meet, the concern radiating from him is overwhelming.

"Please, tell me that you're not feeling the same thing I'm feeling," he says quietly, and the desperation in his voice sends a pang through your heart. You hesitate, and he sighs, running a hand over his face. "Great."

"Rex..."

"What's the point of the Force if it can't warn you about these things?" he mutters, shaking his head. He closes his eyes, his jaw clenching, and his hands grip the harness tightly.

"It is warning me," you tell him, and his eyes fly open, meeting yours, his expression full of disbelief. "I can feel it. The Force is trying to tell me something. I just...I don't know what it is. I just know that I need to go down there."

You unbuckle your harness and stand, and Rex follows suit, his movements stiff and robotic. He pulls on his helmet and checks his blasters while you pull the rebreather over your nose and mouth. You give him a reassuring smile and rest your hand on his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"I'm going to be fine," you assure him, and he shakes his head.

"No, you're not," he retorts. He looks at you, and you can sense his fear and frustration and anger. "Nothing ever goes right when we're together. Every time. Every damn time."

"Hey," you say sharply, and he huffs. "That's not true."

"It is," he mutters. His head drops, and his shoulders slump, the tension and anger leaving him. He lets out a tired sigh and turns towards the open hatch. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"It won't," you promise, and he scoffs, his brow furrowing. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, Jesse returns, and the two of you turn towards him. He gives the two of you a quick look and holds up a finger.

"Okay, I did a quick sweep, and it looks like the place is empty," he reports. He taps the side of his helmet and shrugs. "Nothing on the thermal either. If anyone's down there, they're well hidden."

"We're still going," you say, and Jesse lets out an exasperated groan.

"I knew you were going to say that," he complains. He looks at Rex, and you can tell that the captain is rolling his eyes behind his visor. "Is she always like this?"

"Yes," Rex replies dryly.

He tilts his head towards the hatch, and Jesse lets out a resigned sigh, leading the way down the ramp and onto the ground. You follow after him, stepping onto the gray surface, your boots sinking into the wet dirt. Rex is right behind you, and the three of you begin making your way towards the outpost.

The fog is thick, and it's difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. You pull the hood of your robe up, the fabric covering your head and the top half of your face. The ground is uneven and soft, and the air dank and cold.

A few steps into the fog, the visibility drops to almost nothing, and you find yourself relying on the Force to guide you. It's disorienting, and after a while, you're not entirely sure where you're going. Jesse's at the front of the group, and Rex is at your side, his blasters at the ready. Every few steps, the three of you stop and listen, scanning the area for any signs of life.

There's nothing.

The only sound is the muffled crunch of the ground beneath your boots and the soft rustling of the fog. It's unsettling, and you find yourself moving closer to Rex, his presence calming your nerves.

You can see his helmet tilt toward you, and you can sense his unease. He doesn't want you out here. He wants to turn around and go back to the ship. And if it were up to him, that's exactly what he would do.

But it's not.

You're the one in charge.

So, the three of you continue walking, the outpost growing closer and closer, the structure looming ahead of you. The gray stone walls are covered in moss and vines, and the wooden gate is open, hanging from its hinges. The interior of the compound is obscured by the fog, and you pause, your senses on high alert.

There's no sound. No movement. No signs of life.

"Jesse," you murmur, and he glances back at you. "You and Rex search the perimeter. I'll check inside."

"I don't think—"

"Just do it," you order, cutting him off, and he huffs, shaking his head.

"You heard the General," Rex says, and Jesse gives him a curt nod. "Let's go."

The two of them turn away and move along the edge of the wall, disappearing into the fog. You watch as they fade into the grayness, and then you take a deep breath, drawing your lightsaber and activating it. The blade ignites with a hum, the yellow glow illuminating the fog, and you step towards the open gate.

As you pass through the entrance, a chill runs down your spine. There's a feeling in the air, a dark energy surrounding the area. It's familiar, but you can't quite place it. It's a feeling that you've experienced before, but not here. Not in this place.

You pause, listening, searching for any signs of life, and when the silence continues, you step forward, heading towards the center of the compound. There are a handful of structures, most of which are dilapidated and falling apart. A few of them are nothing more than piles of rubble, the walls crumbling, the roof caving in.

You've only taken a few steps when something out of the corner of your eye shifts. A dark shape moving in the distance. Your eyes dart towards the source, and you watch as a shadowy figure emerges from the fog, its movements slow and deliberate.

"Jesse? Rex?" you call out, and the figure stops. You take a cautious step towards it, and it vanishes.

"General!"

You turn towards the sound of Rex's voice, and the figure appears again. It's standing behind you, and when you look back, it's gone.

"Rex!" you shout, and you hear him calling out for you, his voice getting closer. The figure appears again, further away. It's tall and humanoid, its limbs long and spindly. It's facing away from you, and when you try to follow, it vanishes once more.

You hear a faint noise coming from the direction the figure disappeared. A soft tapping sound. It's faint and distant, but it's there. You turn towards the source, and the figure appears again. You make out the shape of a cape, a hood, and your hand tightens on your lightsaber.

"Hey!" you call out, and the figure spins around, the fog swirling, obscuring its features. The tapping sound continues, and the figure takes a step towards you. "Who are you? What do you want?"

You take a cautious step forward, and the figure vanishes, the tapping fading away. You wait for a moment, listening, and then the tapping returns, the sound growing louder. It's coming from somewhere close by, and when you try to follow the noise, the figure reappears. You spin towards it, and as soon as you do, the noise stops.

"This is ridiculous," you growl, and you take a step towards the figure, but before you can reach it, it disappears. The tapping returns, the noise even louder, the sound echoing off the walls of the buildings. It's close.

You move quickly, sprinting after it, your heart pounding. You can hear Rex and Jesse calling out for you, but you ignore them. The fog swirls and twists, and you follow the sound, the tapping growing louder and louder. It's coming from inside one of the buildings. You skid to a stop and look up. The building is smaller than the others, and the doorway is barely big enough for you to squeeze through.

"Come on," you murmur, and you push the door open, slipping inside. The tapping stops, and the room is completely silent. You look around, searching for any sign of the figure, and when you don't see anything, you let out a frustrated huff. "I know you're here. You wanted help. Well, I'm here. So, let's talk."

The silence stretches on, and then the sound returns, the tapping louder and faster than before. It's coming from below. From beneath the floor. You look down and realize that the floor isn't made of stone or wood. It's metal. It's a hatch.

You kneel and press your ear to the surface, the tapping getting louder, the noise echoing off the metal. There's a muffled thumping mixed in with the tapping. It's a steady rhythm. Like a heartbeat.

You grab the handle and yank, the hatch sliding open, revealing a ladder leading down into a dark pit.

"Oh, for Force's sake," you mutter.

"General! Where are you?"

"Rex!" you call out, and the noise stops, the silence deafening. "I'm over here."

You look down the ladder, and a few seconds later, Rex and Jesse emerge from the fog. They jog towards you, their blasters drawn, and when they get close enough, they slow down.

"What are you doing?" Rex asks. He looks down at the hatch and back to you, holstering his blasters and placing his hands on his hips. "You weren't thinking of going down there alone, were you?"

"...Maybe," you admit, and Rex's helmet tilts skyward.

"Of course, you were," he grumbles. He glances at Jesse, and the other man shrugs.

"She's got a death wish, sir," Jesse tells him. Rex lets out a resigned sigh, and Jesse leans closer, giving you a disapproving look. "Don't do anything stupid."

"When have I ever done anything stupid?" you ask. Rex and Jesse both snort, and you frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "I don't think I like your attitude."

"We don't like your attitude," Rex retorts. He crouches and peers down the hole, and when he looks up, the annoyance in his voice is clear. "Well, we're not doing this without a plan. Or at least without some kind of idea about what's down there."

"It's some kind of tapping," you reply, and he gestures for you to elaborate. You huff and shrug. "There's a rhythm to it. And I keep seeing a figure in the fog. It's humanoid."

"A figure?" Jesse repeats, and he and Rex exchange a look. You raise an eyebrow and tilt your head to the side, waiting for one of them to speak. "Are you sure you didn't hit your head earlier?"

You scowl, your hands curling into fists, and you're about to tell him exactly what you think of his comment when Rex steps between the two of you. He holds up his hands and shakes his head.

"That's not helping," he says firmly. Jesse grumbles under his breath, and Rex glances over his shoulder at you. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm going down there," you tell him. You step towards the ladder and start climbing, and when Rex starts to protest, you hold up a finger, silencing him. "You can either come with me or not. Either way, I'm doing this."

Rex hesitates, and when he looks at Jesse, the other man just shrugs. He lets out an exasperated sigh and nods.

"Fine," he mutters. He points at Jesse. "Stay up here. If we're not back in thirty minutes, call for backup."

"Copy that," Jesse replies, and Rex climbs onto the ladder, following after you.

You descend into the darkness, the sound of the tapping getting louder and louder. When you reach the bottom, you step off the ladder, and Rex lands beside you. His helmet scans the room, and he reaches out, his fingers closing around your wrist. He pulls you behind him, his body shielding yours.

"Be careful," he whispers.

"Always am," you murmur, and his helmet swivels to look at you. You can feel his skepticism and amusement radiating from him, and he shakes his head, turning back to the darkness.

"Sure, you are," he chuckles. "I've seen the scars."

"That was one time," you protest, and he snorts, taking a step forward.

"No, it wasn't," he retorts.

"I thought you liked how reckless I am," you tease, and his helmet tilts, a low, rumbling growl escaping from the speakers. You bite your lip to keep from laughing, and when he turns his head, you give him a sweet smile. "You said it. Not me."

"That's not what I said," he mutters.

"Yes, it is," you laugh, and his hand tightens on your wrist, pulling you close. You stumble forward, bumping into him, and he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you against him.

"Be. Careful," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, and the sudden change in his tone sends a shiver down your spine. You look up at him and lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "Promise me."

"I will," you whisper. The intensity of his stare is overwhelming, and you find yourself frozen, your breath catching in your throat. "I promise."

"Good," he murmurs, his voice softening. He releases his grip on your waist, his hand sliding up your back and resting between your shoulders, gently nudging you forward. "Come on."

The two of you walk side by side through the darkness, the sound of the tapping growing louder with every step. As the two of you move further into the tunnel, the darkness begins to give way, the walls illuminated by dim red lights. You glance at Rex, and he gives you a quick nod, gesturing for you to keep moving.

"It's an escape tunnel," he mutters. He moves closer to the wall and examines the lights, his helmet tilting towards the ground. "Probably goes all the way to the outpost."

"Why would they need an escape tunnel?"

"Maybe they were hiding from something," Rex replies. He stands and glances around the room. "Or someone."

The two of you continue walking, the tapping growing louder, the tunnel narrowing. You reach a junction, and the sound is coming from the left, the path sloping downward. Rex hesitates, and you nudge his arm, pushing him forward. He lets out a resigned sigh and follows after you.

As the two of you walk down the slope, the tapping becomes deafening, the sound bouncing off the walls. It's coming from a closed door up ahead. Rex draws his blaster, and you ignite your lightsaber, the yellow blade illuminating the area. The two of you reach the door and pause, listening. There's no movement, no sounds other than the tapping.

"You ready?" Rex asks, and you nod. He raises his blaster and places his hand on the door handle. "On three."

He counts down, and then the door swings open, revealing a small, dimly lit room. It's empty, and the only furniture is a table and chair. There's a tarp draped over the wall behind it, and the tapping is coming from beneath.

You glance at Rex, and he takes a cautious step inside. When nothing happens, he holsters his blaster and moves towards the tarp.

"What are you doing?" you ask, and he waves a dismissive hand.

"Just stay there," he orders.

You frown, your eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me what to do."

Rex sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tarp and pulling it off the wall, revealing a series of monitors and control panels. There's a microphone on the table, and the source of the tapping is revealed. It's a small, cylindrical device attached to the microphone, and when Rex picks it up, the tapping stops.

He sets the device on the table and looks at the monitors, his helmet tilting to the side. You move towards him, and he points to the screens, showing you the messages and audio files.

"Someone was trying to lure people here," he murmurs. He flips through a few more files and lets out a disgusted huff. "Whoever it was must have figured that a fake distress call would bring us running."

"So, this is a trap?"

"Looks like it," Rex replies. He looks down at the device and tilts his head to the side. "And, judging by the fact that there's no sign of whoever put this here, I'm guessing that they got away. Guess we scared them off."

"Yeah," you mutter, and he turns to face you, his helmet lifting, his visor scanning your face.

"I know that tone," he says softly. You raise an eyebrow, and he folds his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

"I just..." you begin, and you trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. You shake your head and lean against the table, rubbing your forehead. "This whole thing feels...off."

"Off?"

"It doesn't make sense," you tell him. "Why would anyone set up a fake distress signal and then leave? It's not like they could've known that we would come. Or even if we would. For all they knew, no one would hear their signal. Why waste the time and energy putting this all together?"

"Maybe they panicked," Rex suggests. "Maybe they didn't think things through."

"Maybe," you reply. You push away from the table and pace around the room, frowning. "But something about this feels...familiar. Like I've seen it before."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," you mutter. You stop and look at him, shaking your head. "It's just a feeling. A hunch. And I can't explain it."

"Okay," Rex says slowly, his voice hesitant. He pauses, and then he walks over to the tarp and grabs it, throwing it back over the wall, covering the monitors. "We'll talk to General Skywalker. See what he thinks. Maybe he can make sense of all this."

"Yeah," you agree. You walk past him, and he follows, the two of you heading back towards the ladder. The tapping starts up again, the sound echoing off the walls. Rex's hand reaches out, resting on the small of your back, his fingers pressing against the fabric of your robe. You look over at him, and his helmet tips toward the source, his voice low and soothing.

"Ignore it," he murmurs, and the two of you start walking, the sound fading away. "It's just a recording."

"I know," you whisper. You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, and as the two of you walk, his hand moves lower, his fingers brushing over your hip. The gesture is subtle, but it's enough to make your pulse race, a shiver running down your spine.

Your eyes flick to him, and Rex pulls away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry," he mutters. His voice is rough and strained, and he glances away, his hand running over the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to, uh...yeah."

You watch as he hurries towards the ladder, and you follow after him, biting back a grin. His flustered state is adorable, and the sight of him embarrassed and fidgety makes your heart melt. For a man who was inches away from kissing you only a few hours ago he's certainly acting shy.

"Don't worry about it," you call out, and Rex lets out a soft snort. He glances over his shoulder, his helmet tilting to the side, and you shrug. "I don't mind."

He looks at you for a long moment, and then he climbs onto the ladder and begins to ascend. You watch him go, a small smile on your face, before you shake your head.

"Get it together," you whisper to yourself. There are more important things to focus on than Rex and his adorable antics. Like finding out who was behind the distress signal.

With a determined huff, your hand grabs for the first rung of the ladder, but something stops you. You pause and listen, your senses heightening. There's something wrong. The tapping has stopped.

And then you see it.

The shadow.

It appears at the edge of your vision, the dark shape moving along the wall. You spin around, and it vanishes, the shadows stretching, enveloping the space. The red lights flicker, and when they do, you can see it.

It's humanoid. Tall. Spindly. Dressed in black. A hood covers its face, and a cape billows out behind it. The same figure that's been following you. The same one that attacked you ten years ago, the same one that you saw on the footage the night Yaddle died.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," you growl.

A low, raspy laugh fills the air, and the figure turns and walks away, disappearing into the darkness. You run after it, sprinting down the tunnel, watching as Dooku's retreating form vanishes into the blackness.

You reach the junction, this time taking the path to the right. You follow after him, the tunnel sloping upward until you reach another door. You draw your lightsaber and open it, the bright glow of the yellow blade illuminating the room.

Dooku is standing in the center of the space, his back to you, his hands clasped behind his back. He's wearing a long black cloak and a hood, and the light from your saber casts his shadow across the walls, the edges of his image elongated and distorted.

"You're pretty spry for an old man," you tell him, and his shoulders twitch, a low chuckle escaping his lips. He turns to face you, and when his hood falls, his features are illuminated.

"Still the same reckless girl," Dooku says, and he tilts his head to the side, his voice filled with amusement. "Always so eager to prove yourself."

"I don't have anything to prove to you," you retort, and his eyes narrow. His lips curl into a sneer, and his head lifts, his expression becoming haughty and condescending.

"Don't you?"

"No," you snap. You take a step towards him, and his smirk fades, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm curious. What are you doing here? Don't you have an entire army to run?"

"I could ask you the same question," Dooku replies. He looks at you and chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think we both know the answer. You came here because you felt something. A connection to me. To the Force."

"That's not true," you protest, but he ignores you.

"You wanted answers," he continues, his voice soft, his tone almost gentle. "Answers that no one else can provide. Answers that you desperately need."

"I don't want anything from you," you growl, pulling your shoto from your belt and igniting it. The twin blades flare to life, their glow reflecting off his skin. "Just stay still, and maybe this will hurt less."

Dooku takes a step towards you, and your stance shifts, your body moving into a defensive position. He chuckles and holds up his hands, stopping a few feet from you.

"Really, dear girl, you should learn some respect for your betters," he tells you, and you let out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm done playing games," you snap, and before he can react, you attack.

You lunge towards him, swinging your lightsabers, and his blade ignites, blocking the blows. You press the attack, pushing him back, and he counters, the two of you trading strikes and parries. He's skilled, his movements graceful and elegant, and the longer the fight continues, the more he seems to be enjoying himself. It's as if your actions are fueling his pleasure.

"You've gotten better," Dooku tells you. "I'll give you that."

"Yeah, well, last time, you didn't fight fair," you retort, and he smirks.

"Neither did you," he counters. His lightsaber flicks, the blade moving in a blur, and you barely block the strike, the tip of his weapon grazing your shoulder. The fabric of your robe tears, and you hiss, the burning sensation making your blood boil.

"Bastard," you snarl, and the two of you lock blades, the light from the glowing swords reflecting off the walls, casting shadows across the room.

"Temper, temper," he tuts. He presses his weight into the hilt of his lightsaber, and the heat from the blades grows hotter, the tips of the hilts burning against your palms. "It's unbecoming."

"I'm not interested in a lesson in decorum from a murderer."

You shove him back and swing, forcing him to jump away, and you chase after him, unleashing a series of strikes and thrusts. The two of you dance around the room, the light from the sabers reflecting off the walls, and the battle quickly devolves into a duel, both of you matching the other's attacks, neither of you gaining an advantage.

As the minutes pass, your frustration grows, and the anger and hatred inside you builds. You lash out, and Dooku dodges, the tip of your blade cutting through his cloak, the fabric fluttering to the ground. It's a small victory, but it's enough to spur you on.

"That was expensive, you know," he drawls.

"Good," you snarl.

The two of you continue your dance, and as the fight progresses, his attacks become more vicious. He pushes you harder, his strikes growing quicker and more precise, and your defenses crumble, leaving you open.

The tip of his blade slices through the sleeve of your robe, and the skin beneath burns, forcing you into dropping your shoto. You grit your teeth and parry, deflecting the next strike, and when the opportunity presents itself, you kick him in the stomach, sending him stumbling backwards.

"Is that all you've got?" he taunts.

"Stop talking and fight," you snap. You launch yourself at him, slamming into him and sending the two of you tumbling to the floor. You land on top of him, and you grab his collar, dragging him to his feet, slamming him into the wall. "Tell me why you're here."

"I have my reasons," he replies. His voice is calm and composed, his expression blank, unfeeling. You grip his collar tighter, and he lets out a soft chuckle. "You want to kill me, don't you? Go ahead. Try."

Your hand tightens, and you pull him away from the wall and throw him back, sending him flying into the opposite wall. He crumples to the ground, and you march towards him, your lightsaber raised.

"Stop. Talking," you growl. You level the blade at his throat, and when your eyes meet, his expression changes. A cold, cruel smile spreads across his face, and his gaze becomes sharp, calculating.

"I knew it," he murmurs, and your grip on the hilt of your lightsaber wavers, a wave of unease washing over you.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've changed," he tells you. His eyes narrow, and he leans closer, his breath tickling your cheek. "You are not the same Padawan I knew."

"I've learned a few things since then," you mutter.

"Oh, yes," Dooku chuckles. He tilts his head to the side, and his eyes move over your face, his voice dropping to a murmur. "I can see that."

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a shiver runs down your spine. He's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is piercing, his expression calculating, and you can't help but wonder what he's looking for. Whatever it is, he seems pleased.

"Why did you kill her?" you demand. Better to keep him talking. The longer he's distracted, the more likely it is that the others will arrive and help you deal with him. "What did she ever do to you?"

"It's not about what she did," Dooku replies. His voice is soft, and his eyes flick to your lightsaber. "It's about what she could have done. The potential that she represented."

"What are you talking about?"

"There's no need to be coy," he tells you. His eyes return to your face, and his gaze is almost hungry, his lips curling into a smirk. "I know you've figured it out."

"She was in your way," you say. His expression changes, his smirk fading, and his gaze hardens. "She knew too much. She knew you were planning on betraying the Republic."

"Close," he murmurs. His head tips to the side, and his gaze sweeps over you, a look of admiration in his eyes. "But not quite. You've come so far, but there's still so much you don't understand."

"Then enlighten me," you snap, and his brow furrows, a confused frown forming on his face. "Tell me why. Why did you kill her?"

Dooku’s eyes narrow, and his gaze becomes distant, as if he's seeing something far beyond the room. He doesn't seem to be aware of the fact that he's about to die. As if he's reliving some memory, some experience that is only known to him. For a split-second, he looks almost vulnerable. And, in that instant, you feel something.

He's afraid.

And whatever he's afraid of, it has nothing to do with you.

"It's not just about her," Dooku says, his voice a low murmur. You frown and lean closer, your lightsaber still pointed at his throat, and when his eyes refocus, they lock onto yours. "Do you know why I left the Order, young one?"

"Because you're a power-hungry monster?" you suggest, and he shakes his head.

"I left because they refused to see the truth," he replies. The intensity in his gaze is unnerving, and you swallow, doing your best to keep the tremble from your hand. “I left because the Jedi are flawed."

You stare at him, unsure how to respond. Your anger and hatred are still there, but there's something else, too. He’s not saying anything you don’t already know. The Jedi are flawed. They are imperfect. And yet, somehow, you know that what he's saying isn't coming from a place of malice or spite. He's speaking the truth. Or, at least, what he believes to be the truth. And, for some reason, that scares you.

"You're lying," you tell him, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"The Council is weak. The Order is blind. They've lost sight of what it means to be a Jedi," he continues. He shifts, the tip of your blade brushing against his skin, but he doesn't react. "They've become nothing more than a band of soldiers, fighting for a Republic that's dying."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the Order is corrupt. That the Republic is broken.” Dooku leans forward, and you can't help but notice how close his throat is to your lightsaber. All it would take is a twitch, and his head would roll. You could end it. Right now. The thought is tempting, but something holds you back. You want answers. "The war is pointless. And, no matter what happens, we will lose. We are fighting a losing battle. The Republic is finished.

"Your master knew this. Yaddle was one of the few who believed in the true purpose of the Jedi Order. One of the few who understood the truth."

"That's not—"

"She was a good person," he interrupts. The warmth in his expression takes you by surprise, and a pang of guilt hits you, making your chest ache. He looks at you, his brow furrowing. "Don't blame yourself. What happened was necessary."

"Necessary?"

"She was wise and strong, and she saw things that others could not," he explains. His tone is soft and reverent, his gaze distant, almost wistful. "And she cared for you very much."

Your heart skips a beat, and a lump forms in your throat, a rush of emotions flooding your system. You bite the inside of your cheek and clench your jaw, trying to ignore the pain and the fear and the sadness, but it's too much. The pressure in your chest is overwhelming, and you can feel the tears stinging your eyes.

"What does that have to do with anything?" you ask, your voice breaking. You can't bring yourself to look at him, and your vision blurs, tears filling your eyes.

"She would want you to survive," Dooku says, his voice gentle, his gaze locked onto yours. "No matter what."

The pressure in your chest grows, and a tear escapes, rolling down your cheek. You try to wipe it away, but it's too late. He sees it. And, somehow, his expression softens even further, a look of understanding in his eyes.

"You and I have more in common than you think," he murmurs. You blink, your eyes widening, and he gives you a knowing smile. "We both understand the truth. We both know what it means to sacrifice. We've both witnessed the corruption and hypocrisy of those we once trusted. And we've both experienced the pain of betrayal."

"The Council didn't betray me," you say, and his brow furrows, his head tipping to the side.

"Did they not?"

"No," you reply, the conviction in your voice wavering. "They didn't."

"I think we both know that's not true," he counters. "They abandoned you. They let you suffer and struggle alone, and when you needed their help, they turned their backs on you. Just as they did with Yaddle."

"The Council had their reasons," you insist. "They did what they thought was best."

"For themselves," Dooku retorts. His eyes narrow, and a look of disdain crosses his face, his jaw clenching. "Not for you."

"You're wrong," you tell him, but even as the words leave your lips, a part of you knows that he's right. The Council didn't believe you. They didn't believe in you. They let you flounder, and they never did a thing to help. Even Obi-Wan had abandoned you, and while he'd tried to apologize, it hadn't changed anything.

"You know it's true," he says, his voice barely a whisper. He stares at you, and you stare back, your mind racing. "You feel it. Deep down, you know I'm right."

"I'm a Jedi. I can't turn my back on them," you say. "Not when there are innocent people suffering."

"And yet, you're here, chasing after a ghost, searching for a reason to hate the ones who hurt you," Dooku replies. You open your mouth to protest, but he raises a hand, silencing you. "I am not judging you. I understand. You have been betrayed, and you are in pain. I can sense it. It radiates from you, filling the air."

"You have no idea what I'm going through," you mutter.

"I can assure you, dear girl, I do," he tells you, and his eyes move over your face, studying you, his gaze curious and contemplative. "You remind me of myself. We are alike, you and I. We both seek justice and answers. We both question the world around us, and we both understand the sacrifices that must be made in order to achieve peace."

"I'm not like you," you say. You shake your head, and a bitter laugh escapes your lips, your heart pounding in your chest. "I'm nothing like you."

"Aren't you?"

"I'm not a murderer."

"You've killed before," Dooku counters. He stares at you, his expression unreadable. "And, if given the chance, you would do it again."

Your grip on your lightsaber falters, and the blade lowers, the tip scraping against the stone floor. Your eyes meet his, and the weight of his words settles over you, a feeling of unease and dread filling the pit of your stomach.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you tell him, but the lie is obvious. You can hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your heart races, and Dooku smiles, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his expression.

"You may not have the blood on your hands, but it's there," he murmurs. He stands and steps towards you, his hand resting on your shoulder, his touch gentle, almost comforting. "There are no more lies between us. We know the truth. We see what the Order has become, what the Republic has become. We see their flaws and their faults, and we know what must be done. The question is, are you willing to do what needs to be done?"

"No," you reply, shaking your head, but he squeezes your shoulder, his grip tightening.

"You can't hide from the truth," he says. His voice is soft, his tone soothing. "You can't ignore it. The Force brought you here, to me, because we are kindred spirits. We are alike. We understand each other."

"Stop saying that," you snap, and his fingers dig into your shoulder, his eyes boring into yours.

"You have been betrayed," he says, his voice cold and clinical, his eyes filled with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "You are alone. And you are angry. The Order has taken everything from you, and now, they are taking your life. They have failed you, and they will continue to fail you. They will not stop until you are dead."

"I'm not going to let you manipulate me," you tell him. You push his hand away and step back, your lightsaber raised, and he lets out a resigned sigh, his gaze never leaving yours. "You murdered Yaddle, and you tried to kill me. That's all there is to it. I'm going to kill you."

Dooku doesn't react. He just stares at you, his gaze intense and steady. A part of you expects him to try and reason with you, but he doesn't. He doesn't argue or try to change your mind. He just looks at you, his eyes moving over your face, studying you.

"Maybe," he allows. He straightens his back and squares his shoulders. "But not today."

With a flourish of his cape, he steps towards you, his lightsaber igniting with a hiss. The crimson blade hums as it slices through the air, and you react, your own blade coming up to block his attack.

The two of you dance around each other, trading strikes and parries. The battle is brutal and fierce, both of you giving it your all.

It's only after a few minutes that you realize that Dooku isn't even trying. He's playing with you, using his skill and experience to taunt and provoke you. And, while his attacks are strong, they are easily blocked or deflected.

He's not taking this seriously.

He's toying with you.

He wants to see what you're capable of.

As if he's testing you.

"You're holding back," you accuse. He slashes at your chest, and you step to the side, avoiding the blow. You lunge, your blade arcing towards his head, and he blocks, the humming blades locking together, the light from their tips illuminating his face. "I can feel it."

"Of course, I am," Dooku replies. He spins, and the two of you lock blades, his eyes locking onto yours. "I have no wish to hurt you."

"You're a fucking liar," you snarl, and he pushes you away, sending you stumbling backwards.

"On the contrary, I am the most honest man you will ever meet," he says, and the arrogance in his tone makes you bristle.

You swing at him, and he steps back, dodging the blow. His footwork is perfect, his movements fluid and graceful, and the longer the fight goes on, the more confident and relaxed he becomes.

It's like he's in a different world.

He's not fighting you.

He's playing a game.

"I should've known that this would end in tears," he sighs. He lunges, his lightsaber sweeping towards your head, and you duck, the tip of his blade slicing through the air above you. "You aren't ready."

"Shut up," you snap. You step forward and swing, but he's faster than you, his body twisting out of the way, his cape billowing behind him. The fabric brushes against your cheek, and he kicks, his boot connecting with your hip.

The force of the blow sends you stumbling, and you nearly fall, your balance shifting. You grit your teeth and brace yourself, your lightsaber moving into a defensive position.

"You're still angry," he tells you, and he shakes his head, his eyes narrowing. "I can sense it."

"Of course, I'm angry," you retort. You slash at him, and he blocks, his blade coming up to deflect your strike. "You tried to kill me. You murdered Yaddle."

"That's not what I meant," he replies, and before you can react, he lunges, his blade coming down. You scramble, barely managing to hold onto your saber and bring it up in time to block his next strike.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not angry at me," he says, and you freeze, his words sinking in. Your eyes widen as he tilts his head to the side, his gaze moving over your face. "You're angry at yourself."

"Shut up," you growl, but the anger in your voice is fading, a sense of dread filling the pit of your stomach.

"You're still angry that she died," he continues, and you can't bring yourself to speak, a lump forming in your throat. "You're angry that she left you. You're angry that she never came back."

"Stop," you whisper, but he ignores you, his gaze boring into yours.

"You're angry that the Order betrayed you. That they left you alone," he says, his tone sympathetic, almost apologetic. "You're angry that the Jedi refused to believe you. That they turned their backs on you. And now, they expect you to fight for them."

"They didn't abandon me," you insist, but even as the words leave your lips, the image of Obi-Wan's retreating form flashes in your mind, his last words echoing in your ears.

"Didn't they?"

"They just...didn't listen," you say. You blink, a tear escaping, rolling down your cheek. "They didn't...understand."

"Because you wouldn't tell them the truth," he replies.

His voice is soft, gentle. It's soothing, and for a split-second, it feels like he cares. It feels like he understands. And a part of you wants to believe him. A part of you wants to trust him. But another part of you knows that he's manipulating you, trying to trick you.

And it's working.

Dooku takes another step forward, his shadow stretching across the floor, the light from your blades flickering in the dark.

"You were afraid. Of the power you wielded. Of the truth. Of yourself."

He's closer now, and you can't bring yourself to move. To resist. To do anything but stand there, staring at him.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "For what I did to her. For what I did to you."

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. You can't breathe. Your chest is tight, and your lungs are burning, and you can't bring yourself to move.

"You can't run from this," he says. His eyes meet yours, and he shakes his head, a sad smile forming on his lips. "No matter how hard you try. No matter where you go. But if you let me, I can help you."

"Help me?"

"You're not a Jedi. Not anymore," he tells you. He moves closer, and you take a step back, your body acting on instinct, trying to get away from him. But he follows, his steps measured and slow. "Not after what happened."

"You did this," you whisper, and he lets out a soft chuckle, his expression changing, a look of admiration and pride on his face. His eyes flicker to the scars stretching across your hands, and a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

"No," he says. "I didn't. You did."

He's only a few feet away now, and the shadows stretch, wrapping around him, engulfing him. The air grows cold, and the light from the blades begins to fade, and the darkness grows, consuming everything.

"We can't control our power. Our emotions. They control us," he tells you. "You know that better than anyone."

You close your eyes, and for a split-second, it feels like the darkness is wrapping around you, cocooning you. It's warm and safe and familiar. You want to stay here, to let go and just drift away, but a small part of you is screaming. A small part of you knows that something isn't right.

Something pulls at your senses, tugging at the edges of your awareness. It's like a whisper, a soft murmur in the back of your mind. A feeling. An emotion. Fear. Worry.

And it's growing.

"They took everything from you," Dooku says, and your eyes snap open, your vision focusing on his face. He looks different now, older, his skin withered and wrinkled, his hair thin and gray. The warmth in his eyes is fading, replaced by a look of disdain and disgust. "But you can take it back."

He's holding out his hand, his fingers splayed, his palm facing you. It's an invitation. A temptation. And you know what it means. If you accept his offer, everything will change.

You look at his hand, and your gaze flickers to his face, to his eyes. They're darker now, colder. They're not the same. And you know that whatever he's offering isn't real. You're not sure if it ever was.

You stare at his hand, and your mind races, a million thoughts flashing through your mind. But, as the seconds pass, one thought becomes clear, one word echoing in your mind.

"No."

"Very well," he sighs. He steps towards you, his voice calm and level. "If that is your decision, then I have no choice but to—"

You reach out, calling your shoto, and it flies into your open palm, igniting with a loud snap-hiss. Dooku's eyes widen, and his lightsaber springs to life, the red blade humming, the light from the weapon casting shadows across his face.

"Don't," he warns, but it's too late.

You launch yourself at him, and his lightsaber comes up, blocking your blow. The two of you trade strikes and parries, the sounds of the clashing blades echoing off the walls. You spring up, swinging your blade, and he blocks the attack, the red and yellow blades hissing and crackling as they grind against each other.

"You're making a mistake," he tells you.

"I'm done listening to you," you retort.

You push him back, and he stumbles, catching himself, his gaze narrowing. The two of you square off, and the anger inside you burns hotter, brighter. Your fear and frustration fuel your rage, and you attack, unleashing a series of wild, erratic strikes, each blow more vicious and brutal than the last.

Dooku counters, his expression becoming serious, his movements growing quicker, more precise. He's no longer playing games, and as the fight continues, you can't help but notice the look of concern in his eyes. He's worried. He's afraid.

He's afraid of you.

He should be.

Because in that instant, all of your fear and pain and rage converge, coalescing into a single, blinding thought.

He needs to die.

You rush towards him, and he meets you, the two of you locked in a deadly dance, your lightsabers flashing and hissing. You press the attack, driving him back, and he blocks your strikes, his blade moving with a grace and precision that leaves you breathless.

Your vision blurs, and the sounds around you grow distant, muffled. It's like the whole world is fading, dissolving, and all that's left is him. His eyes. His blade. And the opportunity that's presenting itself.

A chance to end this.

To kill him.

The two of you are locked together, neither of you able to break free. You push harder, your muscles straining, your bones creaking. Your body is on fire, burning from the inside out, and you can feel the sweat rolling down your back, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

The pressure is unbearable. You can feel his blade digging into your own, cutting into the hilt, and you know that if you don't act soon, you'll lose. You grit your teeth, and his lips twitch into a smirk.

"You can't beat me, girl," he sneers, his voice low, taunting.

You open your mouth to retort when the sound of blasterfire erupts in the hallway outside. You glance towards the door, and when you do, Dooku shoves you, sending you stumbling backwards. He lunges towards you, and your instincts kick in, your blade coming up to block his strike.

The hot sting of pain erupts in your hand as his blade slices through the hilt of your shoto, severing the weapon in two. You watch in horror as the halves fall to the ground, the plasma blade sputtering out. Dooku kicks them away, and you back up, your remaining lightsaber raised, the bright glow casting shadows across the walls.

"I offered you a way out," he tells you. “I will not suffer even a Jedi like yourself to live in ignorance."

He steps towards you, and as he does, a series of blaster bolts slam into the door. The hulking form of a B2 teeters and falls backwards, taking the door with it.

The room fills with smoke and dust, and you cough, waving your hand in front of your face, trying to clear the air. You can barely make out the shadowy shapes of Rex and Jesse as they enter, their blasters raised.

The two men take aim, and Dooku reacts, the crimson blade of his lightsaber blocking the incoming barrage. He turns, his cape billowing out behind him, and the red beam of his weapon flashes, deflecting the shots, the bolts ricocheting off the walls.

Jesse ducks and rolls, and as he does, Rex runs towards you, his arm wrapping around your waist. He pulls you away, dragging you behind him, his body shielding yours. As the two of you move, Jesse unloads, the volley of shots forcing Dooku back, the barrage keeping him on the defensive.

Rex grabs your wrist and tugs, pulling you towards the exit. As the two of you rush out into the hallway, a series of explosions ripple through the room, the stone walls trembling. You look over your shoulder, and Dooku emerges from the cloud of dust and smoke, his blade flashing. Jesse fires again, but the Count deflects the shots, the bolts slamming into the walls.

"Move," Rex barks, and the three of you take off running, racing down the corridor. Dooku gives chase, and the crimson beam of his lightsaber streaks through the air, the heat from the weapon scorching the stone.

You run as fast as you can, your chest heaving, the rage inside you burning hotter with every step. He killed Yaddle. He murdered her. And he was the one who attacked you. He was the one who tried to kill you. Now, he's trying to kill you again.

"I'm going to kill him," you growl, and Rex's grip tightens, his voice low and harsh.

"Don't," he snaps. "Focus on getting out of here."

"He has to die," you snarl. You pull against him, but his hold on you is iron-clad. "Let me go. I'm going to kill him."

"No," Rex growls, and you glare at him, a fire raging inside you.

"I have to do this," you tell him, your voice cracking, your hands balling into fists. "I'm going to make him pay."

"You can't," he snaps. He tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging into your skin, and he pushes you ahead of him, guiding you forward. "Not like this."

The three of you round a corner, and a series of blaster bolts slam into the wall to the side, sending fragments of stone and debris flying. Jesse spins and returns fire, and as the two men exchange shots, Rex takes advantage of the distraction, grabbing your arm and yanking you towards him, the two of you stumbling into the next room.

"I can," you insist, and Rex grabs your shoulders, shaking you.

"No, you can't," he snaps. "Look at me. You can't do this."

His tone makes you stop, and you look up at him, a flicker of doubt creeping in. His helmet tilts towards you, his visor scanning your face, and his hands move up, cradling your cheeks.

"I need you to listen to me," he says, his voice urgent and pleading. "I know how much Yaddle meant to you. I know what she was to you. But if you go after him, you'll die. You can't beat him. Not alone. Not like this. Please."

"Rex—"

"Listen to me," he interrupts. He moves closer, and you can hear his ragged breathing through his helmet. "I'm begging you. I need you to be here with me. I need you to come home."

His words strike a chord, and the anger inside you begins to ebb, slowly giving way to something else. Something deeper. You stare at him, and his head tips forward, his visor resting against your forehead.

"Come home," he repeats, his voice barely audible, and your chest aches, a lump forming in your throat.

"I..."

You can't finish the thought. You can feel the fear in his voice, the pain, the desperation. He's scared. Terrified. And it's because of you. Because he cares about you. He needs you.

You swallow hard and nod, and Rex presses his forehead against yours, his body relaxing with a shaky sigh.

"Thank you," he breathes. He strokes his thumb along the line of your jaw, and when he pulls away, his gaze holds yours, his voice laced with regret. "We'll get him, I promise. But not like this."

"Okay," you whisper, and Rex nods, his helmet tilting towards the ground. You place a hand on his chest, waiting for him to meet your gaze again before you speak. "I trust you."

He looks at you for a long moment, searching your eyes. Then, he nods, his shoulders straightening.

"I'll make sure we get him," he tells you. "I promise."

You give him a weak smile, and he pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you, his body enveloping yours. He squeezes you, his grip almost crushing, before he pulls away, his helmet nodding to the doorway.

"Let's get out of here," he says, and you follow him, the two of you sprinting out of the room, leaving Dooku and his men behind. Jesse catches up to you, his blaster still raised, and the three of you continue running, heading back towards the main corridor.

As you race down the hall, Rex's words linger in your mind. He was right. Dooku was too powerful. If you went after him now, there was no way you would survive. And even if you did, what would you be fighting for?

Vengeance.

It wasn't enough. It never would be. Not for Yaddle.

But she wasn't all you had left. There was another reason.

You didn't want to die.

You didn't want Rex to lose you.

You didn't want to hurt him.

So, you ran. You ran as fast as you could. And as you did, a single word echoed in your mind, repeating itself over and over again.

Home.

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@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees @awkwardwookie

@sugarrush-blush @lunaastars @capricornrabies @missmeredithrose @champagnejaig

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #please forgive me for the chapter length #he would just not stop monologuing #once again i am asking for someone to come to my house and spray me with a water bottle when i reach 10k

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