#at this moment no but I’m running out of ideas so I’m getting close

[yuwuta]

YOU AND I TOGETHER, WON’T YOU HOLD ON TO ME — YUUTA OKKOTSU

cw mentions of children, pregnancy. so much of yuuta being happy and sappy :(( sorry i haven’t shutup about my little depressed lovesick boy making it out and living a full life. probably won’t anytime soon actually. satoru is alive and well in all my renditions of happily ever after and that won’t change either i fear  

Yuuta talks about the future often. A future with you, and him, and your friends, and a family where you’re all together forever and he gets to love you until the end of time. 

Sometimes, you think he doesn’t realize what he’s doing—dreaming about forever with you; but you can never find it in your heart to break his illusion. The boy who used to dread his next waking moment is dreaming and dreaming and dreaming, and making all of yours come true. 

It’s quiet in this part of the Gojo compound. The gentle sounds of a stream running through the garden, and chirping of birds are the only noises that disrupt your daydreams. 

Or, perhaps, fuel them. 

“I hope our kids aren’t afraid of birds,” Yuuta muses, wide eyes looking past your face up to the tall trees, full of happily singing bluebirds, “There’s so many of them here.” 

You’re gentle when you stroke his hair, taking advantage of his head in your lap to pull the longer pieces out of his eyes. 

Your smile is giddy, unfiltered. “Kids? Plural?” 

Yuuta hums with smile. His eyes remain on the sky, chasing a pair of birds that flitter between long branches. 

“Yeah. At least two, so they don’t get lonely,” he says, “They’ll have us, and their cousins, and sensei, and our friends, but they’re going to need each other at home.”

Yuuta lets his eyes fall to you at the end of his sentence, a sparkling smile on his scarred lips. 

“I see,” you smile, “At least two so they can be friends.” 

“Best friends,” he revises your statement, “So they can train together, too, if they want to be sorcerers. Or not. It’s fine, either way.” He blinks, eyes warm, “I hear that four is the happy medium for a family, but I think three is going to be easier inheritance wise, if sensei is serious about making me clan head someday.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah, but if a fourth comes along, I’m sure we’ll figure it out.” 

“I’m sure sensei will have made more than enough money for them by then.” 

Yuuta giggles, earnestly in your arms at that. “Of course he will.” 

You pause for a moment, committing his laugh to memory. His features flush slightly under your gaze, and you lean down to kiss his scarred forehead. You let your hands resume petting his hair, following in his gaze to look up at the birds. 

“Tell me more about them.” 

Yuuta doesn’t waste a moment, closing his eyes; letting you paint the picture in the sky for yourself as he talks. 

“The gap between the oldest and youngest is six or seven years. I think five might be enough, though. So, that means our middle one is about three when our littlest comes along.” 

“Unless a fourth happens.” 

Yuuta hums in agreement. “Unless a fourth happens. But we’ll have time.” 

You’ll have time, you nod. You have time now, you and him; all the time in the world. 

“A three year old and newborn sounds like a lot of work.” 

“Maybe. But we’ll also have a seven year old. He’s going to want to help with the baby, so we’ll have an extra hand,” Yuuta says, “And that’s not even counting sensei and the rest.” 

“He?”

“I think he’ll be a boy, the oldest. He might look like me, but he’ll act like you, so he’s going to be Kugisaki’s favorite.”

You find yourself choking out a genuine cackle at that. When you look down, Yuuta’s got a smile wider than yours. 

“He sounds wonderful. Like his father,” you confess, “But the idea of pregnancy thrice in a seven year span sounds exhausting.” 

“We can use surrogates. Or adopt. Or whatever,” Yuuta tells you, “Gojo-sensei will help us figure it out if we need help.” 

You have no doubt about that. And now, when you look back up to the sky, you can see vignettes of Gojo-sensei with your your seven year old on his shoulders, your middle child on his hip, and the baby gnawing at his legs. 

And then Yuuji is skipping into the scene, cooing at the youngest, picking him up and consoling him effortlessly. He carries the baby over to a crib with another crying newborn that looks eerily like Megumi, whose green eyes go wide at the stranger, then smile gummy as both babies reach for each other. 

Maki is there too, tapping your eldest on the shoulder with her staff and pretending not to have done it. Nobara holds up a shirt to the middle child, brassy in questioning Gojo why she told her that the baby would fit in this size that’s obviously too big, meanwhile the toddler ignores them both, fascinated with the marks on Toge’s cheeks as he plays peek-a-boo. 

It’s not hard to imagine. The scenes in your head aren’t wild fantasies or unattainable dreams—not anymore. 

“You want a big family.” 

Yuuta nods, reaching for your hand and pulling it away from his hair, and to his lips. “We have the resources for it now. Not just financially—we have time, and lots of friends, and lots of love.” 

Yuuta presses a kiss to the back of your hand, and you smile. He’s right, there’s more than enough love to go around. 

[pbaz7]

CROSSING THE LINE — PART EIGHT ♡

paige x azzi

warning: slight homophobia, violence, sexual content

word count: 11.2k

A/N: This chapter is a combination of a few requests so I did my best to include as much as I can. I have no idea how it turned until 11k words 😭. Please leave comments and live reactions because they help so much with motivation and me coming up with ideas based off of what you guys say. I hope you enjoy and Merry Christmas if you celebrate!!

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Mid-January 2024

The soft hum of the TV filled the suite as Paige and Ice furiously clicked their controllers, their focus locked on the Fortnite match.

“C’mon, Paige, I’m carrying us here!” Ice teased, leaning forward on the couch.

“Relax! I’m flanking them!” Paige shot back, her tongue peeking out in concentration.

Azzi, meanwhile, was curled up at the far end of the couch, her legs draped lazily over Paige’s lap. Her book rested on her stomach, her brow furrowing as she turned the page. It had been a tough game yesterday and the team had gotten a little banged up from the lack of calls from the refs so Geno gave them the day off to rest considering it was the later half of the season. 

The buzzing of Azzi’s phone interrupted the peaceful moment. She glanced at the screen, frowning at the name that lit up.

Caroline: Hey, wyd.

Azzi tilted her head, confused. Caroline rarely texted her—she’d just show up. She tapped back a quick reply.

Azzi: Umm…nothing?

A few moments later, her phone buzzed again.

Caroline: Come to my room.

Azzi groaned aloud, earning a side-eye glance from Paige.

“What’s up?” Paige asked, glancing at her girlfriend quickly before refocusing on the screen.

“Caroline wants me to come to her room,” Azzi muttered, typing a response.

Azzi: Not happening. I’m comfortable.

A longer pause this time, before her phone buzzed again.

Caroline: Come on, Azzi. It’s important.

Azzi let out a long sigh, running a hand over her face. “She says it’s important.”

“Then tell her to come here,” Paige said with a shrug, barely missing a beat in their game.

Azzi hesitated, then tapped out her reply.

Azzi: Come to mine if it’s so important.

A single word response came back almost immediately.

Caroline: Fine.

Azzi tossed her phone onto the coffee table, crossing her arms. “She’s coming over.”

About ten minutes later, a knock sounded at the door. Ice barely glanced up, muttering, “It’s open,” before returning to their Fortnite match.

Caroline walked in, her expression unreadable as she scanned the room. “Hey,” she said simply.

“Hey,” Azzi replied, sitting up slightly.

Paige and Ice didn’t look up from the game, their greetings reduced to low grunts of acknowledgment.

Caroline didn’t bother responding to the lackluster reception. Instead, she locked eyes with Azzi and subtly motioned toward her room. Azzi raised an eyebrow in confusion, her book slipping closed on her lap.

“What’s up?” Azzi asked cautiously.

Caroline just gave her a pointed look, a silent request.

Azzi sighed, setting the book aside. As she tried to swing her legs off Paige’s lap, Paige’s hands shot out, gently grabbing her legs and keeping them in place.

“Where you going?” Paige asked, her attention still half on the screen but her tone tinged with curiosity.

Azzi’s lips curled into a small smile, amused by Paige’s clinginess. “I’m going to talk to Caroline really quickly.”

Paige hummed at this, her focus already shifting back to the game as she reluctantly let Azzi go.

Azzi rolled her eyes playfully, leaning down to give Paige a quick kiss on the head. “Don’t miss me too much,” she teased before getting up.

“Just don’t take too long,” Paige muttered, mashing the buttons on her controller as Ice shouted something about a bad move.

Azzi shook her head with a laugh and motioned for Caroline to follow her, leading her to her room. She closed the door behind them and turned, leaning against it with her arms crossed. “Alright, Car, what’s so important?”

Caroline wasted no time, her voice direct. “So, is there any news on the Paige front?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, already regretting agreeing to this. “Seriously, Caroline? This is what you made me come in here for? I told you to drop it last time.”

Caroline pressed on, her tone exasperated. “Because, Azzi, you’re not taking this seriously. Everything isn’t just about the ‘amazing’ sex you’re having.”

Azzi huffed, a flicker of irritation crossing her face as she straightened up. “Alright, I’m done. I’m not having this conversation with you again.” She turned on her heel, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Caroline’s voice came quickly, stopping Azzi in her tracks. “I invited Josh here.”

Azzi froze mid-step, her shoulders tensing. Slowly, she turned back around, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Caroline. “You did what?” Her voice was sharp, laced with disbelief.

Caroline shrugged, though she looked slightly defensive. “He’s in town. We…kind of kept in touch after you guys broke up.”

Azzi’s expression darkened, and she took a step closer to Caroline. “And that gave you the bright idea to invite him to hang out? Are you serious?”

“He was asking about you,” Caroline explained quickly, her tone edging on defensive now. “And you two didn’t really end on bad terms, so I didn’t see the problem.”

Azzi stared at her, clearly trying to rein in her anger. “The problem,” she said slowly, emphasizing every word, “is that I have a girlfriend now, Caroline.”

Caroline gave her a pointed look. “No, you and Paige are hooking up.”

“No,” Azzi snapped, cutting her off. “Paige is my girlfriend, Caroline. Jesus Christ.”

Caroline blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait, when did that happen?”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Azzi shot back, “but on New Year’s Eve.”

Caroline crossed her arms, her expression shifting to one of hurt. “And you didn’t think to tell me? I’m supposed to be your best friend, Azzi.”

Azzi shook her head, frustration and disappointment mingling in her voice. “Because you’ve made it very clear you don’t approve of my relationship with Paige. So, no, I didn’t feel the need to tell you right away.”

Caroline raised her hands defensively, her expression softening. “Come on, Azzi, you know it wasn’t like that. I just didn’t want you to get hurt being in some situationship with Paige.”

Azzi’s brow furrowed, and she took a step closer, her voice sharp. “First of all, it’s not a situationship. It never was and I told you that. And second, if you’re so concerned about me getting hurt, why are you constantly inserting yourself into my business and making it harder for me? You don’t see Nika breathing down Paige’s neck every two seconds do you?”

Caroline sighed, her voice quieter now. “I just… I don’t want you to regret anything. You’ve always been so focused, and I’ve seen people drag you down before and I don’t want it to happen again. Paige just doesn't have a history of being consistent.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her tone deadpan. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Caroline. But it’s not your call to make and it’s really not your business. Paige and I are together, and it’s serious. So Josh being anywhere near her isn’t happening. You need to fix this.”

Caroline shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. “I already kind of made arrangements…”

Azzi’s expression darkened. “What kind of arrangements?”

“He’s staying in my room,” Caroline admitted sheepishly. “I told him he didn’t need to book a hotel while he’s here. I was just going to crash in Jana’s room for the night,” Caroline added quickly, trying to defuse the tension.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, so thoughtful of you to disrupt your own living situation for him. What’s your point, Caroline?”

“Come on Azzi It’s just one night,” Caroline said, her voice edging on pleading. “It shouldn’t be a big deal. We can all hang out as friends.”

Azzi stared at her in disbelief. “You really don’t see the issue here, do you?”

Caroline hesitated, then tried again. “I didn’t think it would be a problem! I thought it could be… I don’t know, neutral ground.”

“Neutral ground?” Azzi repeated incredulously, her tone rising slightly. “Caroline, Josh is my ex. And Paige is my girlfriend. Why would I want to be in the same room as the two of them? Let alone have them interact at all? You know how Josh is, it was the whole point of me breaking up with him.”

Caroline bit her lip, her defensiveness crumbling. “I just… I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

Azzi tilted her head, her voice calm but icy. “Why are you pushing this so hard? Just tell him I said no.”

Caroline hesitated, then blurted out, “I already kinda told him you agreed and that you were excited to see him.”

Azzi’s eyes widened, and she let out a bitter laugh, bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. “What the fuck, Caroline? What is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t think it would be a big deal!” Caroline said, her voice rising in frustration. “I figured we’d all just hang out, and it wouldn’t be awkward. You’re making this bigger than it has to be.”

Azzi dropped her hand and fixed Caroline with a steely gaze. “Bigger than it has to be? You lied to my ex-boyfriend about me agreeing to this, without even talking to me, and now you’re acting like I’m the unreasonable one?”

Caroline took a step back, her voice softening. “I wasn’t trying to cause problems. I thought maybe it would be… good closure for you.”

Azzi snorted, her disbelief turning to anger. “Closure? For what? I’ve moved on. Paige and I are happy, and we don’t have any problems anymore. The last thing I need is you bringing Josh into the mix.”

Caroline’s face fell, her voice tinged with hurt. “I just thought… I don’t know. I’m supposed to be your best friend, and I didn’t even know about you and Paige making it official so I didn’t think this would bother you so much.”

Azzi shook her head, her frustration spilling into her voice. “Exactly. You’re supposed to be my best friend. But instead of supporting me, you’re meddling in my relationship and acting like you know what’s best for me. Newsflash: you clearly don’t.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Azzi’s words hanging in the air. Finally, Azzi exhaled sharply, muttering something under her breath before turning toward the door. “I need to talk to Paige.”

“Azzi, wait—” Caroline started, but Azzi didn’t look back as she left the room, her frustration radiating off her as she headed back to the living room.

As she walked back into the living room, her posture stiff and her face clouded with frustration, Paige immediately looked up from the TV, her focus on the Fortnite game evaporating. Her brow furrowed as she studied Azzi’s expression, the way her lips were pressed together and her shoulders were tense. Paige knew her girlfriend well enough to tell when something was bothering her.

“What’s wrong?” Paige asked, her voice soft but direct, concern lacing her words.

Azzi sighed, as she glanced briefly at Ice, who was still focused on the game. “Nothing, I just… I need to talk to you really quick,” she said, her voice quieter now.

Paige nodded without hesitation, already standing and tossing her controller on the couch. “Ice, do singles for a while,” she said, barely sparing her roommate a glance as she reached for Azzi’s hand.

Ice waved her off with a nonchalant grunt, muttering something about carrying the team anyway, but Paige wasn’t listening. She gently squeezed Azzi’s hand, her touch grounding, and gave her a small, reassuring smile as she started leading her toward her room.

Azzi let herself be guided, her chest loosening slightly at the way Paige always seemed to know when to step in without pushing too hard. It was one of the things she loved most about her.

Once they were in Paige’s room, Paige shut the door behind them and leaned back against it, crossing her arms as she studied Azzi. Her concern was evident, her voice gentle. “Alright what’s wrong? You look like you’re ready to punch something.”

Azzi let out a long breath, her hands finding the edge of Paige’s desk as she leaned against it. “It’s Caroline. Remember how I told you how she’s been bugging me about us” she began, her voice slightly tight. “She wasn’t getting the answers she wanted, so somehow that led to her inviting Josh to hangout with us.”

Paige tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. “Josh? Your ex from UMD? That Josh?”

Azzi nodded, the irritation on her face clear.

Paige blinked, pushing off the door and walking over to stand in front of her. “Wait, why? What’s the deal with that?”

“She said he’s in town, and they’ve kept in touch,” Azzi said, her tone edged with frustration. “Apparently, he asked about me, and she thought it’d be fine to bring him around for us to ‘catch up.’ She’s just now throwing this at me and apparently she already told him I agreed.” 

Paige looks kind of shocked, her hands finding their way to Azzi’s waist. “That’s…a choice,” she said, trying to keep her tone light but clearly not impressed. “So, what? She just decided to volunteer for this reunion without even checking in?”

Azzi nodded, her hands lifting in exasperation. “Exactly! And now I’m supposed to just be okay with it? Like, why would I want to hang out with my ex? Especially with you there. It’s just weird.”

Paige hummed thoughtfully, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles over Azzi’s hips. “Yeah, I get why that’d bug you. But honestly, baby, I’m not stressed about it. Josh doesn’t bother me.”

Azzi gave her a skeptical look. “You’re not even a little annoyed?”

“Not really,” Paige said with a shrug. “I mean, yeah, it’s annoying Caroline didn’t talk to you first. But Josh? I hadn’t really given him a second thought. You’re with me, and we both know that.”

Azzi sighed, leaning into Paige’s touch a little. “It’s not you I’m worried about,” she admitted.

Paige raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a small smile. “Oh? Then who?”

“Josh,” Azzi said flatly. “He can be… a lot.. You know I broke up with him for a reason.”

Paige nodded, her expression softening. “You’ve mentioned it. He was kind of an asshole, right?”

“Exactly,” Azzi muttered. “I just don’t want him pulling anything while he’s around you. He used to be super territorial, and now with you in the picture… I don’t know. It’s just a bad vibe.”

Paige stepped closer, brushing her hands up Azzi’s arms before cupping her face gently. “Listen, you don’t have to worry, okay? If he acts out, we’ll handle it. But he doesn’t get to ruin your day or mess with what you have going on.”

Azzi looked at her, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “You’re annoyingly good at calming me down, you know that?”

Paige grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Azzi’s lips. “It’s a gift,” she teased.

Azzi laughed quietly, resting her forehead against Paige’s for a moment. “Caroline wants to make it some big group thing, like invite the team and make it casual. I don’t know… maybe that could work.”

Paige nodded thoughtfully. “Honestly? That’s probably the best way to handle it. We get a bunch of people there, make it super low-key, and it won’t feel weird. Plus, with the team around, Josh won’t really have a chance to pull anything.”

Azzi exhaled slowly, nodding. “Alright. But you promise you’ll tell me if he steps out of line or upsets you?”

“Baby,” Paige said with a grin, “I’ll handle him before you even notice. But if it makes you feel better, I promise to be on my best behavior. Scout’s honor.” She held up her hand, smirking. “No starting drama.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching. “You? Drama? Never.”

Paige laughed. “Exactly. I’m practically a saint. You don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

Azzi smiled, finally feeling a little more at ease, Paige giving her a quick kiss before stepping back. “Come on, let’s go back out there. Ice probably thinks we’re making out or something.”

Azzi smirked, the playful glint in her eyes softening some of the lingering tension. “Well, we weren’t, but we can let her wonder.”

As they walked out of the room, the cozy light of the living room greeted them. Caroline was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone. The sight of her made Paige’s jaw tighten instinctively, but she didn’t say anything, choosing instead to keep her focus ahead. 

Azzi noticed, her gaze flicking between Paige and Caroline. While Paige wore her emotions plainly, Azzi forced herself to remain composed. Caroline had been her friend for years—too long for this situation to turn into something petty. Even so, the frustration simmered beneath her skin at Caroline’s blatant disrespect to Paige and Azzi’s relationship.

“Hey,” Caroline said, glancing up briefly. Her tone was casual, trying to brush off the tension between the trio.

“Hey,” Azzi replied, her voice carefully neutral.

Paige didn’t say anything, stepping around the couch to stand near Ice, who was still engrossed in her game. “We’re going out tonight,” she announced, her tone clipped.

Ice didn’t look away from the screen, raising a lazy hand in acknowledgment. “Cool. Have fun. Don’t get arrested.”

“No, I mean you’re coming with us,” Paige clarified, her arms crossing as she looked down at Ice.

Ice quickly glanced up at her, clearly caught off guard. “Wait, me? Why?”

“Because I said so, Isuneh,” Paige replied, her tone not leaving any room for argument. Then she smirked, adding, “And besides, you owe me for bailing on me during the last practice drill the other day.”

Ice groaned, tilting her head back against the couch dramatically. “Fine, but only if you’re buying my first drink.”

“Deal,” Paige said with a smirk.

Azzi chuckled softly, her tension easing as she watched the banter. She moved to sit on the couch next to Paige, their knees brushing. Without thinking, Paige’s hand drifted to Azzi’s, her fingers lightly grazing the back of her hand in a small, reassuring gesture.

Paige reached for her phone with her free hand, her fingers flying over the screen. Azzi tilted her head slightly, leaning closer so their shoulders bumped as she glanced at the screen.

“Who are you texting?” Azzi asked, her tone light but her curiosity evident.

Paige grinned, never missing the way Azzi casually peered at her phone now, a stark contrast to what she was like before. “Just a few people from the team. Letting them know we’re making plans tonight,” she said, her thumb still moving.

Azzi nodded in understanding. 

Caroline glanced up again, sensing the quiet coordination happening between the couple. “You’re organizing something?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Paige said shortly, still typing.

Azzi shot Paige a warning glance, brushing her hand lightly against Paige’s thigh—a subtle gesture to ease the tension. “Yeah we figured we’d make it a group thing like you said,” Azzi said smoothly, her voice even. “Try to keep it casual.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further, returning to her phone.

Paige finally set her phone down, turning her attention to Azzi. Her expression softened as she leaned in slightly, keeping her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear. “I’ll be on my best behavior tonight, I promise. No stress, okay?”

Azzi smiled, the reassurance warming her chest. “Thanks,” she murmured, her fingers briefly brushing Paige’s.

Later that night, Caroline texted the group chat Paige created, suggesting they should head out soon because Josh had just gotten there. Paige was lounging on her bed, scrolling aimlessly on her phone as she waited for Azzi, but her attention shifted the moment she stepped in the room.

Azzi had opted for an extremely casual look, wearing Paige’s black Nike tech with a black crop top underneath the slightly unzipped jacket. The outfit fit her effortlessly, and Paige’s smirk grew as her eyes roamed over Azzi’s body.

Azzi caught her staring and raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smirk. “You’re really not even gonna try to be subtle about it, are you?”

Paige shrugged, completely unbothered, as she let her gaze linger. “Why would I? You always look good in my clothes.”

Azzi laughed, shaking her head as she walked over to Paige. “You’re like a teenage boy,” she muttered, stopping directly in front of her.

Paige immediately sat up straighter, her hands resting lightly on Azzi’s waist as Azzi stood between her legs. There was an electricity in the air as Azzi leaned down, slowly on purpose, hovering just close enough for Paige to feel the heat of her breath.

The kiss that followed wasn’t just casual; it was intense, leaving Paige a little dazed when Azzi finally pulled back. Paige blinked, her lips slightly swollen, and stared up at Azzi like she was her whole world.

Azzi snorted, brushing a hand against Paige’s cheek. “You’re so easy baby.”

Paige grinned, unashamed. “Only for you.”

Azzi rolled her eyes fondly before pulling away. “Come on, we’ve gotta go before Caroline starts blowing up my phone again.”

Paige sighed dramatically as she grabbed her jacket and stood. “Fine, but next time, I’m making us late on purpose if you pull something like that.”

Azzi laughed, leading the way to the door, but as soon as they stepped out, they both paused.

“Ice!” Paige called, her voice echoing down the hall.

Azzi joined in, shouting playfully, “Hurry up child! We’re leaving!”

Ice’s groan could be heard from her room, followed by her muttering something unintelligible.

“Don’t make me come drag you out of there, Isuneh!” Paige added with a grin, her tone half-teasing.

“We’re not waiting all night missy!” Azzi chimed in, her voice laced with humor.

Finally, Ice appeared in the hallway, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You two are so annoying,” she muttered.

Paige smirked, throwing an arm around Azzi’s shoulders as they waited. “You’ll miss us when we’re gone,” she teased, earning a roll of Ice’s eyes as they headed out together.

The three of them arrived at Ted’s with Nika and KK in tow. The atmosphere inside was unusually calm, a stark contrast to the typical buzz of celebrations that filled the space after big wins. But tonight, there were no loud cheers or packed tables, just a relaxed hum of conversation and soft music.

Paige scanned the room as they stepped inside, spotting Caroline, Aaliyah, Aubrey, Ayanna, and Jana sitting at a table near the back with Josh. She had intentionally left most of the younger players out of tonight’s plans, except for KK, who had practically begged to come along once she heard about it. Saying something about how she had to fight off the ‘negative attention.’

As they made their way toward the table, Azzi’s mood subtly shifted. Her gaze landed on Josh sitting next to Caroline, and her jaw tightened slightly in irritation at the whole situation. Without a word, she moved closer to Paige, sliding her hand around her bicep, grip firm but casual. The motion was smooth but deliberate, a clear declaration that Azzi wasn’t single anymore.

Paige felt the subtle tension radiating from Azzi and leaned in close, her voice low but steady. “Relax,” she murmured, her words for Azzi’s ears only. “Everything will be fine baby.”

Azzi glanced at her, her lips twitching into a faint smile. “Just making sure everyone gets the message.”

As the group approached the table, Ice, Nika, and KK introduced themselves to Josh first, with Paige and Azzi hanging back slightly. When the introductions were over, Josh turned toward Azzi, his arms lifting slightly with a smirk on his face as if expecting a hug. Azzi, however, didn’t release her hold on Paige’s arm. Instead, she offered Josh a polite smile. “Nice to see you Josh,” she said lightly, her tone pleasant but distant.

Josh’s smile faltered for a moment before he turned his attention to Paige, who stepped forward, extending her hand not being held by Azzi confidently. “Wassup, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Paige.”

Josh looked at her hand before shaking it briefly, his expression neutral. “Josh,” he said simply.

The two exchanged a quick look, and while they were roughly the same height, the differences between them couldn’t have been more striking. Paige’s piercing blue eyes and blonde hair contrasted sharply with Josh’s dark brown eyes and hair. Her features were sharp and defined, exuding a natural charm that everyone felt, while his softer features and seemingly slick demeanor radiated a sense of cockiness.

After the handshake, Paige gave Azzi a small, knowing smile before they made their way to the bar to grab drinks.

When they returned, drinks in hand, Ice had already taken her seat with a satisfied grin on her face after getting the drink Paige had promised, even talking her way into a second later on. The group started to settle in around the high standing table, the vibe still casual and comfortable. Caroline, seeing only one open space beside Josh, began to move a seat over. However, Azzi quickly stepped in.

“It’s fine,” Azzi said smoothly, her tone carrying just enough authority to make Caroline pause. She settled comfortably in between Paige’s legs in the available seat, leaning back, her posture at ease as she claimed the space.

The team, already well aware of Paige and Azzi’s relationship and their dynamic, gave the two women a knowing look. The subtle, intimate gesture didn’t go unnoticed, and it was clear Azzi was making herself right at home in Paige’s personal space on purpose. Paige, feeling the heat of Azzi’s body against hers, slid a hand along her side, resting it casually on Azzi’s hip.

Josh, however, seemed a bit confused. He glanced between Paige and Azzi, clearly trying to figure out their relationship dynamic. He knew girls were touchy sometimes so he brushed it off. 

Azzi, comfortably nestled between Paige's legs, let out a soft sigh as she leaned her head back against Paige's shoulder. The familiar warmth of Paige’s presence was grounding, and for a moment, she closed her eyes to settle herself for the night. But Josh, eager to make conversation, interrupted the calm.

"So, Azzi, how’ve you been?" Josh asked, leaning forward slightly with an expectant smile.

Azzi lifted her head off Paige’s shoulder and turned to him, her tone polite but neutral. “Pretty good, you?” She didn’t make it a question—just a simple exchange to keep things civil.

Josh, clearly eager to get the conversation rolling, leaned in a little closer. “I’ve been good, just keeping busy with everything. You know how it is. How’s everything going at UConn? How’s your season been?” 

Azzi’s response was quick, and while still kind, her words were clipped, her focus shifting slightly toward Paige’s hand on her hip that was subtly rubbing circles that no one else could see. “It’s been good. The season’s going well, we’re staying focused which is always good.”

Josh’s smile lingered as he picked up on her more reserved energy, but he pressed on, undeterred. “That’s awesome,” he said, his voice casual, trying to keep things flowing. “I bet the competition’s tougher this year. You guys look strong, though. I’ve watched a few of your games—you're playing well.”

Azzi nodded, offering a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” she said. Her eyes briefly scanned the room trying to think of something to say, clearly not as invested in the exchange as Josh seemed to be. “We’re just taking it one game at a time you know.”

Josh leaned in a little more, trying to read the situation. “Yeah, I get that. You’ve been putting up some great numbers too, huh?” He gestured toward her, a little more animated now. “Your stats this season are looking solid. How do you feel about all the extra attention Uconn brings? I feel like you guys have fangirls everywhere.”

Azzi gave a small, polite smile, her shoulders shifting slightly as she leaned back a little against Paige again. "I’m just doing what the team needs. The attention is definitely a part of the game now, but I’m more focused on what’s happening on the court, you know?”

Josh continued talking, clearly making an effort to keep the conversation going with Azzi, he figured it was just taking her a while to warm up to him again. Paige remained relaxed, a little distracted by Ice and KK who were talking to her about something that happened in a class they were taking together, but she made sure she stayed slightly tuned in to Azzi’s conversation just in case she needed to step in.

In a quiet moment between Josh���s ramblings to some other people on the team about playing football at UMD, Paige’s hand moved a little further down Azzi’s waist, now touching the skin visible from the crop top. Azzi, feeling the familiar warmth of Paige’s hand, relaxed slightly and leaned further back against her, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder. It wasn’t anything grand—just a moment of closeness that felt completely natural in their dynamic. 

As Azzi settled, her eyes closed for a moment, the softness of Paige’s body grounding her. But just as quickly, she felt a familiar tug on her chest—her hand found its way to Paige’s, instinctively intertwining their fingers. There was no grand thought behind it, just a simple urge to connect with some she loved, naturally wanting to be closer to the older girl at all times.

The movement caught Josh’s attention, and when he saw Azzi lean into Paige like that, he blinked, his face shifting slightly. Without thinking, Paige turned her head, brushing a gentle kiss against Azzi’s temple—a soft gesture letting the younger girl know she was thinking about her. 

Before Paige could go back to talking Azzi turned her head just slightly, meeting Paige’s lips for a brief but sweet kiss. The kiss lingered for a moment longer than expected, and the quiet warmth between them seemed to fill the space around them. It was the kind of simple intimacy they shared when no one was watching. 

Josh’s eyes widened in surprise at the kiss, clearly caught off guard. His natural smirk faltered as he processed the moment, his lips parting as he tried to find the right words. Finally, he spoke, unable to mask his confusion.

“Azzi I didn’t know you swung for the other team now,” Josh remarked, his tone casual but tinged with uncertainty. “Caroline didn’t mention anything about that.”

Paige’s jaw tightened at his comment, her posture stiffening. Her gaze flickered to Caroline, who was now avoiding eye contact, clearly uncomfortable with the situation she created. 

Azzi, however, remained calm and unfazed. She leaned into Paige just a little more, her hand gently playing with Paige’s as she responded smoothly, her voice pleasant but matter-of-fact.

“I thought Caroline told you,” Azzi said with a smile. “Paige is my girlfriend.”

Josh, still a little thrown off by the exchange, hummed in response, his expression unreadable. “Right,” he muttered, his mind clearly racing as he processed the information. “Guess I missed that part.”

Paige, her initial irritation fading, kept her gaze on Josh for a moment longer, silently daring him to push further. But Azzi, sensing the tension, shifted her weight just enough to brush against Paige’s side to calm her. 

Azzi gave Paige a quiet smile before nodding her head toward the bar. “Let’s grab another drink,” she said, her voice light, almost as if nothing had happened.

…

Later that night, the atmosphere at Ted’s had shifted slightly. Josh, a few drinks in, was slightly more relaxed, but his usual cocky energy started to surface in small, deliberate comments. It was subtle, a few jabs here and there, but enough to let Paige and Azzi know he wasn’t just trying to be friendly.

Josh nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to Paige before returning to Azzi. “I’m sure it’s pretty intense being on a team like that. Lot of pressure, huh?” His gaze lingered a little too long on Azzi, and then, as though it were an afterthought, he threw in, “I wouldn’t have let you wear something like that when we were together. Not that it’s my business, but, yeah, I’d definitely have said something before you left the house.”

Azzi’s lips pressed together slightly, the only sign she was acknowledging his jab. Paige felt her jaw tighten, but she didn’t respond immediately, allowing Azzi the space to handle the situation. Azzi’s voice remained light, almost too calm.

“Lucky for me, we’re not together anymore,” Azzi said, her words casual. 

Josh let out a short laugh, clearly not expecting the lack of reaction. His smile didn’t falter, but there was a hint of frustration creeping into his words. He took a swig of his drink before addressing them again, his eyes narrowing in on Paige as if testing her limits.

“So, what’s the deal, Paige?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock curiosity. “How’d you get Azzi to flip sides? I mean, I didn’t think you were her type.” His tone was dismissive, trying to provoke a reaction. “Did you, like, convince her or something? Or was it just... one of those ‘I just happened to fall for you after experimenting kind of things?”

Azzi’s hand, which had been resting lightly on Paige’s side, tightened just slightly, a subtle show of protectiveness that only Paige could feel. Azzi didn’t need to say anything; her presence alone was enough to calm Paige down.

Paige’s expression remained neutral, though she couldn’t suppress the brief flicker of annoyance that flashed in her eyes. She shifted slightly, her gaze unwavering as she answered with a calm, collected voice.

“I don’t think Azzi needs convincing,” Paige said coolly, her words deliberate. “She’s fully capable of making her own decisions, just like anyone else.” She met Josh’s gaze, her jaw setting firmly, not giving him an inch of satisfaction. “But if you’re really curious, Azzi and I... well, we’re just kind of right for each other. Simple as that.”

Josh’s smirk faltered for a moment, his attempt at baiting them clearly not working. But he wasn’t one to back down easily. He leaned in a little closer, his posture slightly more aggressive as he continued to press.

“So, what’s next then? You two going to, like, do the whole couple thing publicly now?” His eyes flickered between the two of them, his expression almost playful in a way that made it clear he was trying to get under their skin. “I bet that’ll be fun. UConn’s golden girl and the big recruit—don’t think the fans won’t notice that.”

Paige, still unfazed, met his challenge head-on. “We’re not really concerned with what other people think,” she said smoothly, her hand squeezing Azzi’s slightly. “We like to keep things private so I doubt we’ll do too much with that.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, a playful glint in her eyes as she teased, “I mean, maybe we’ll get some pictures here and there to keep everyone guessing.”

Josh’s lips twitched as if he were about to say something more, but he stopped himself. The tension between the three of them had shifted—Azzi and Paige were calm, in control, and clearly not bothered by his attempts to get under their skin. Josh could feel the shift, but his pride wouldn’t let him back down completely.

“Right,” Josh muttered, his voice softer now, though still carrying a hint of amusement. “I guess it’s none of my business anyway.”

Azzi leaned back slightly, her head resting against Paige’s shoulder again as she returned to her comfortable position between her legs. “Exactly,” she said, her voice settling into a more relaxed tone. “It’s really not.”

The brief silence that followed was thick with unspoken understanding. Josh, finally realizing that he wasn’t going to get a rise out of them, took a step back. He raised his drink and gave a short, almost dismissive nod.

“Well, alright then,” he muttered. “Have fun with that.” As he moved away going to talk to Caroline, one of the few people who was being slightly welcoming to him tonight. 

…

The bar had quieted down as the night wore on, and the team was beginning to gather their things, silently agreeing that it was time to head out having been there long enough. Azzi had just gone to the bathroom with a few of them, and as she disappeared, Josh took the opportunity to approach Paige, who was standing off to the side, scrolling through her phone.

He slid up to her, a half-smirk still lingering from his earlier conversations, clearly feeling more relaxed after a few drinks. “So,” he started, his voice casual but his words pointed, “you must be pretty good at what you do to get Azzi.”

Paige didn’t look up, keeping her gaze fixed on her phone as she replied flatly, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

Josh shrugged, leaning in slightly as if to share some secret with her. “I mean, it's just kind of funny, right? You two? Never would have guessed she’d swing that way after being with me. You must’ve really worked something crazy on her huh?”

Paige’s fingers tightened around her phone, but she kept her expression neutral, not allowing herself to rise to the bait. Her silence didn’t seem to dismiss his words as he continued.

Josh’s smirk only grew. “Yeah, well, like I said earlier I would’ve never let Azzi wear a damn crop top when we were together,” he continued, his voice dripping with an air of superiority. “I used to tell her she wasn’t the type to dress like that. Must be nice to see her letting loose a little.”

Paige took a slow, steady breath but still didn’t respond, refusing to engage with the obvious attempts to get under her skin. The tension was there, but she refused to give Josh the satisfaction of reacting.

“Must be pretty much what you’re used to though, huh?” Josh added, his tone playful but laced with a sharp edge. “I’m sure you had all kinds of hoes giving it up for you.”

Paige’s jaw clenched, but her lips stayed sealed.

Azzi walked out of the bathroom and immediately saw the shift in Paige’s demeanor. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she approached, noticing the tightness in Paige’s jaw. Moving swiftly, Azzi placed a hand gently on Paige’s arm, asking softly, “You good?”

Paige gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m good, baby. Let’s just go.”

Azzi nodded in acknowledgment, but before they could leave, Azzi turned to Josh, her smile polite but distant as she prepared to say goodbye. “Nice seeing you Josh,” she said casually, but Josh wasn’t done yet.

He leaned in slightly, clearly trying to provoke. “Guess this trip was a waste,” he said, his voice louder now for the whole table to hear. “Wouldn’t have come all the way out here if I knew you were a dyke now.”

Paige’s jaw clenched, her entire demeanor shifting at the comment directed at Azzi.  Her eyes locked onto Josh, and without even thinking, she took a step toward him, her gaze burning into his. The polite mask she had been wearing all night cracked completely.

“What the fuck did you just say to her?” Paige’s voice was low but laced with venom, her anger barely contained as she stepped closer to Josh, her body tense and ready to snap.

Azzi, quick to react, stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Paige’s chest, trying to keep her grounded. “Baby, it’s fine,” Azzi said softly, her voice calming but firm. “Just let it go.”

Josh, still too drunk and slightly embarrassed about coming out, smirked and leaned in a little closer to Paige, clearly trying to get under her skin. “Damn, that’s wild,” he said, his words dripping with sarcasm, “she must be crazy in bed now if she’s got you reacting like this. I’d love to try her out again”

That was the last straw. Paige’s hand shot out, pushing Josh away with a force that sent him stumbling back a few steps. Without missing a beat, she swung her fist at his jaw, the movement swift before anyone could stop her. 

The impact was hard, but the sharp sting in her knuckles made her regret the move almost immediately. Josh’s head snapped back, and he staggered into some chairs, momentarily stunned as he held his jaw. Paige’s breath was coming in ragged bursts as she stood there, her knuckles aching from the punch. 

The room was silent for a moment, nobody expecting that to happen. The team had already started to move in, aware of the situation escalating. Nika and Aaliyah were quickly making their way over ready to get Paige out of there before it got worse. But Josh wasn’t done yet.

He slowly wiped his mouth as he sneered at Paige, his lip already starting to bleed. "Damn, didn’t think you had it in you, Paige. I been trying to get that outta you all night. I always thought Azzi was more of a… let’s say, experimental type. But now I see she got you wrapped around her finger. You should’ve seen what she was like when we were together. She wasn’t that great–”

Paige’s blood boiled all over again and without hesitation, she swung her fist at his face again, the pain in her knuckles no longer registering as her anger overpowered everything else. The punch landed square on his jaw with a crack, and Josh's head snapped back once more, this time blood gushing from his nose.

Josh staggered again, now clearly dazed and in pain, but his arrogant smirk was gone. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand, glaring at Paige. "Yo you’re fucking crazy."

Paige didn't care anymore. Her anger had eclipsed everything else, but Nika and Aaliyah were there, moving quickly to pull her back.

"Come on, Paige. Let’s go," Nika said firmly, her hand on Paige's arm, leading her away from the scene. Aaliyah and the rest of the team was right behind, ensuring that she couldn’t get close to him again.

Azzi followed them, her eyes briefly flicking to Josh, now leaning against the bar with his nose dripping blood. She didn’t even spare him a second glance. Her focus was entirely on Paige, making sure she was okay.

As they reached the door, Nika shot one last look over her shoulder at Josh. "You're lucky we didn't let her really go for it," she muttered before pulling Paige through the door, with Azzi right behind them.

Outside, the cool night air hit them, but the adrenaline still surged through Paige’s veins. The tension in the bar had followed them out, but now, with each step away from the confrontation, Paige's anger began to dissipate, replaced by a quiet, simmering frustration.

"I’m sorry Az, I didn’t mean to—" Paige began, her voice tense as she glanced at Azzi, "I just… I couldn't let him talk about you like that."

Azzi squeezed her hand, offering a small smile. "I know, baby. I know. 

Paige let out a heavy sigh, flexing her fingers despite the ache in her knuckles. The sharp sting of the split skin reminded her of the impulsiveness of her actions, but the rush of relief in standing up for Azzi outweighed the pain. "I just… I can’t let anyone talk about you like that. Not if I can help it."

Azzi’s expression softened as she stepped closer, her voice low and soothing. "I get it baby, thank you for standing up for me" she murmured, her fingers gently brushing Paige’s wrist. 

As they stood outside in the cool night air waiting for the cars to be pulled around, Azzi took Paige’s hand in hers, inspecting it carefully. One knuckle was split, a small trail of blood streaking her skin, and the swelling was already starting to set in. Azzi’s brows knitted together, her touch featherlight as she turned Paige’s hand slightly to get a better look. "You really did a number on him, huh?" she said softly, trying to add a bit of levity.

Before Paige could respond, Caroline approached hesitantly, guilt etched across her face. "Azzi, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. For everything. For Josh and how—"

Azzi didn’t even glance up at first, her attention still fixed on Paige’s injured hand. But as Caroline tried again, Azzi’s eyes snapped up, sharp and cold—a stark contrast to the tenderness she’d been showing Paige. "Caroline," Azzi said, her tone clipped and firm. "Please, just leave me alone."

Caroline opened her mouth to speak, but Azzi cut her off, her voice steady but laced with irritation. "Not right now. I’m pissed, and I really don’t have the energy for this. Just…please stop."

Caroline froze for a moment, looking between Azzi and Paige, before she finally backed away, her apology dying on her lips. Paige watched silently as Azzi’s gaze softened again, returning to her injured hand.

"You didn’t have to snap at her," Paige said quietly, though there was no real reproach in her tone.

Azzi shrugged, her focus still on the swelling. "She’s part of why this all happened. She can wait until I’m ready to deal with her." Her thumb brushed gently over Paige’s uninjured fingers. "Right now, you’re my priority."

…

Back at the dorm, Paige sat on her bed, her legs swinging slightly as Azzi knelt in front of her, carefully inspecting the cut on her knuckles. Azzi held an alcohol pad in one hand and a smile on her face. "Okay, hold still. I need to clean it."

Paige pulled her hand back slightly, her eyes narrowing. "It’s gonna burn. I’m telling you right now, I’m not doing that."

Azzi laughed, shaking her head. "You can punch a 6’0 guy twice, but you’re scared of a little alcohol pad? You’re such a baby, Paige."

"I’m not a baby," Paige pouted, crossing her arms. "It’s just… alcohol pads put up more of a fight. They’re sneaky like that."

Still grinning, Azzi reached for Paige’s hand again. "Well, baby or not, it’s happening. Now hold still."

Paige groaned dramatically as Azzi pressed the pad to her knuckle. The instant sting had Paige hissing through her teeth, snatching her hand back. "See? I told you it was gonna burn!" she said, her voice rising playfully as she waved her hand in the air like it might cool it off.

Azzi burst out laughing, leaning back on her heels. "Paige, come on. I need to clean it so it doesn’t get infected. Do you want to explain to Geno why your hand looks like a balloon tomorrow? The swelling’s already bad enough."

Paige sighed heavily, reluctantly holding out her hand again, her lips pressed into a pout. "Fine. But only because you mentioned Geno."

Azzi smirked as she gently resumed cleaning the cut, working quickly to avoid any more theatrics. Once it was clean, she wrapped a cold compression bandage around it to hopefully subside the swelling overnight.

"There," Azzi said, standing up and pressing a soft kiss to Paige’s lips. "See? That wasn’t so bad."

Paige grumbled, her cheeks slightly pink. "Yes, it was. Those things are evil."

Azzi just laughed, shaking her head as she moved to toss the wrappers in the trash. "You’re dramatic."

Paige leaned back on the bed, her uninjured hand reaching out to tug Azzi closer. "But you love me anyway."

Azzi smiled, leaning down to kiss her again. "Of course I do."

After Azzi returned from the bathroom, she slid into bed beside Paige, pulling the covers over her. She had barely settled in when she felt Paige’s hands slip around her waist, warm and a little too low to be innocent. Azzi smiled softly, her head turning toward Paige.

"What are you up to now?" Azzi asked teasingly, her voice low and playful.

Paige grinned, her expression as innocent as she could muster. "Just wanted to hold you."

Azzi chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, one that neither of them seemed in a hurry to break. The kisses came slowly at first, gentle pecks and tender presses, but when Paige deepened the kiss, Azzi sighed against her lips, her body melting into Paige’s as she climbed on top of her, straddling her waist.

Paige’s hands settled on Azzi’s hips, her thumbs drawing slow circles on her skin. She pulled back just enough to whisper, "So… what do I get for behaving today?"

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in amusement. "Behaving? Paige, you punched him. That’s not exactly what I’d call good behavior."

Paige groaned dramatically, throwing her head back against the pillow. "Okay, fine. But I behaved for, like, three whole hours before that. That has to count for something."

Azzi laughed softly, her smile full of affection as she leaned down, her fingers trailing along Paige’s jawline. "Hmm," she murmured, her lips brushing against Paige’s neck. "I guess it does. A little. Maybe you do deserve something."

Her kisses started slow and deliberate as she worked her way from Paige’s jaw to the curve of her neck, her lips grazing just enough to make Paige shiver. Paige’s hands tightened on Azzi’s hips, her breath catching as Azzi pressed her lips to a particularly sensitive spot.

"See?" Paige murmured, her voice dropping. "I can be good when I want to be."

Azzi hummed in response, her lips curling into a small smile against Paige’s skin. "Sure you can, baby. Sure you can.

Azzi’s lips moved with precision, trailing soft kisses along Paige’s jaw and down the curve of her neck. She lingered in certain spots, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to make Paige’s breath catch. Paige’s hands stayed firmly on Azzi’s hips, her grip tightening slightly with each kiss, though she kept her expression as composed as she could manage.

"You really love dragging this out, huh?" Paige asked, her voice tinged with amusement, though it wavered slightly.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her voice low and teasing. "Maybe a little. Why? You in a rush tonight?"

"Not at all," Paige replied, attempting to sound casual even as her breathing grew uneven. "Just wondering if this is your game plan—soft little kisses until I get bored."

Azzi raised an eyebrow, pulling back slightly to meet Paige’s gaze, her smirk widening. "Bored? You’re gripping my hips like you’re afraid I’ll stop."

Paige rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed slightly. "Gripping? Please. This is light work."

Azzi hummed thoughtfully as she moved lower, her lips pressing a trail of kisses along Paige’s collarbone and down to the center of her chest as she started to slowly roll her hips. "Light work, huh? Should I keep going, or are you already bored?"

Paige’s grip tightened instinctively, betraying her calm facade. "I’m fine. Do your worst."

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning in to press another kiss just below Paige’s collarbone, her hands sliding up Paige’s sides. "Oh, I plan to." Her tone was laced with mischief, and she moved lower still, her kisses tracing the curve of Paige’s ribs.

Paige shifted slightly beneath her, her breath hitching again. "So, uh… is this your version of a 10/10 performance?"

Azzi looked up briefly, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Why? Are you not impressed?"

Paige opened her mouth to reply, but her voice caught in her throat as Azzi’s lips pressed firmly against the soft skin of her stomach, right above her waistband. Paige clenched her jaw, trying to suppress the shiver that ran through her.

Azzi noticed, of course. She always did. Her smirk grew as she moved lower, her kisses slower now, more deliberate. When she reached a spot just below Paige’s navel, she paused, her lips hovering there for a moment.

"What about now?" Azzi asked, her voice a low murmur against Paige’s skin.

Paige swallowed hard, her breath shaky as she finally managed to reply. "Still… average." Her voice cracked slightly, betraying her.

Azzi laughed softly, the sound sending vibrations through Paige’s skin. Without warning, Azzi sucked harder on the spot just below Paige’s navel, her teeth grazing ever so slightly.

Paige’s breath hitched audibly, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as her head tilted back against the pillow. She bit her lip, trying and failing to suppress the way her body reacted.

Azzi pulled back just enough to admire her work, the dark mark standing out against Paige’s pale skin. "Still average?" she teased, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Paige exhaled shakily, narrowing her eyes at Azzi though the flush in her cheeks betrayed her. "You’re so damn proud of yourself, huh?"

Azzi tilted her head, her smirk widening as she leaned forward again. "Very." Her lips hovered close to Paige’s skin, her voice soft but firm. "But you like it."

Paige didn’t bother denying it this time, her voice low and breathy as she muttered, "Shut up."

Azzi’s laughter was soft and warm as she pressed another kiss to Paige’s stomach, her fingers brushing lightly along Paige’s sides. "Whatever you say, baby."

Paige’s chest rose and fell in uneven rhythm, her eyes fluttering shut as she braced herself for what she thought was coming next. But instead of moving lower, Azzi began to trail her kisses upward again, slow and deliberate, like she had all the time in the world.

Paige groaned softly, her head tilting back against the pillow as she muttered, "You trying something new? Like… you trying to kill me?"

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, the corners of her mouth curling in amusement. She kissed just above Paige’s navel, her voice low as she murmured, "Not at all, baby. I’m just enjoying myself."

Paige huffed, her hands flexing against the sheets. "Enjoying yourself? Well, I’m glad one of us is. This is torture"

Azzi chuckled, the sound vibrating through Paige’s body as she continued her maddeningly slow ascent, her lips leaving marks in her wake just how Paige liked. She kissed just below Paige’s ribs, then a little to the side, then higher still, her pace agonizingly slow.

"You sound a little impatient," Azzi teased, her voice laced with amusement. "That’s not like you. Thought you were good at waiting things out. You love to do this exact thing to me."

Paige opened her eyes briefly, glaring down at her girlfriend, though the flush on her cheeks and her uneven breathing ruined any attempt at looking annoyed. "Yeah, I’m really good at waiting… for you to stop torturing me."

Azzi smirked, her lips pressing softly against the curve of Paige’s ribs. "Torture? This is affection, baby. You’re lucky I’m even sharing this performance with you."

Paige groaned again, her head falling back as Azzi’s lips traveled upward, brushing over the sensitive skin just below her chest. "Oh my God. You’re killing me, Azzi,” Paige said the words coming out in a slight whisper. 

"Am I?" Azzi hummed, her lips pausing briefly to press a deeper kiss right over Paige’s heart. She lingered there, letting the moment stretch before pulling back just enough to meet Paige’s gaze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she added, "You seem fine to me."

Paige exhaled shakily, her voice catching as she tried to respond. "Fine? I’m—" Her words faltered as Azzi’s lips found a particularly sensitive spot near her collarbone, sucking lightly just enough to leave another mark.

Azzi pulled back slightly, her voice soft but teasing as she asked, "What were you saying, babe?"

Paige clenched her jaw, her hands gripping the sheets as she muttered, "I hate you so much right now."

Azzi grinned, her lips brushing the side of Paige’s neck. "Hate me? That’s not what you’re going to be saying a few minutes from now."

Paige’s breathing grew more uneven, her voice dropping as she tried to hold onto any semblance of composure. "Azzi, you’re impossible."

Azzi laughed softly, her lips trailing up to Paige’s jawline. "Impossible? Or irresistible?"

Paige groaned again, her frustration mingling with the heat that Azzi’s kisses left behind. "Both. You’re both."

"Good answer," Azzi murmured before pressing her lips to the corner of Paige’s mouth, her voice soft and smug. "You’re doing great, by the way. Keeping up with this conversation and everything."

Paige laughed breathily, shaking her head. "I’m barely holding it together."

Azzi leaned back slightly, her gaze warm as she studied Paige’s flushed face. "You don’t have to hold it together, baby. I got you."

Her words made Paige’s heart skip a beat, her frustration melting into something softer as she looked up at Azzi. "Yeah," she said softly, her voice laced with affection. "You do."

Azzi smiled, leaning down to press another lingering kiss to Paige’s lips, this time with no teasing—just pure, unhurried affection.

Azzi tilted her head, capturing Paige’s lips in a slow, sloppy kiss that made Paige’s breath hitch. Each movement of Azzi’s lips and her tongue was deliberate, unhurried, as though she was savoring every second. Paige clung to the kiss at first, trying to keep her composure, but the gentle way Azzi teased her bottom lip had her resolve slipping away.

A soft, breathy sound escaped Paige’s mouth and melted into Azzi’s, making the brown haired girl smile against her lips. Azzi pulled back slightly, just enough to glance at Paige’s flushed face, her hand sliding down to trace lazy circles against Paige’s side. The featherlight touches sent shivers coursing through Paige, and she instinctively arched into the warmth of Azzi’s hand.

"You okay there, baby?" Azzi murmured, her voice low and laced with amusement. She punctuated her question with a kiss to Paige’s jaw, then another just below her ear.

Paige let out a shaky laugh, her hands gripping Azzi’s ass now. "Yeah, I’m good. Just… God, Azzi. That feels so good."

Azzi smirked, her lips brushing over the sensitive spot below Paige’s ear as she whispered, "Good. That’s exactly what I was going for."

Paige let out a soft moan, her body leaning into Azzi’s touch as her fingers brushed over the skin just above her hip. "You’re… really good at this. Too good, honestly," Paige said, her voice uneven as she tried to catch her breath.

Azzi chuckled softly, her kisses trailing down to the curve of Paige’s neck. "I like hearing you say that. Keep talking, babe."

Paige exhaled sharply, her words tumbling out between breathless sighs. "I don’t think I can focus enough to—" She broke off as Azzi’s lips lingered a little longer against her neck, sending a fresh wave of heat through her.

"Sure you can," Azzi teased, her hand dipping lower to rest on Paige’s waist, her fingers tracing faint patterns along her skin. "Just tell me how you’re feeling right now."

Paige bit her lip, her voice coming out softer now. "I feel… amazing. Like I’m gonna lose my mind if you keep doing that and you haven’t even done anything yet."

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, peppering more kisses along her jawline as her hand pressed more firmly against her waist. "You’re so cute when you’re all flustered, you know that?"

Paige groaned lightly, her head tilting back against the pillow as she muttered, "I’m not flustered."

Azzi laughed softly, moving her lips up to meet Paige’s again. The kiss was slow and consuming, drawing another sound from Paige that made Azzi’s heart skip. She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against Paige’s, her voice a whisper. "You can keep pretending, but I know you, baby."

Paige opened her mouth to fire back with something sarcastic, her signature smirk already forming, but the words never left her lips. Azzi’s hand shifted into Paige’s boxers with expert precision, her movements slow yet deliberate as she put them exactly where Paige wanted. Any witty retort Paige had planned dissolved into a breathy, unrestrained moan.

"Fuck, Azzi," Paige blurted, her voice trembling as her head fell back against the pillow. "That feels—" She cut herself off with another shaky exhale, her hands clutching at Azzi’s sides for stability.

Azzi’s smile widened as she watched Paige’s tough exterior crumble. "What was that?" she teased, her voice impossibly gentle, her lips brushing against Paige’s jaw.

Paige’s head tipped further back as a string of breathless words tumbled out. "It’s—you’re—" she stammered, her hands gripping Azzi’s sides like they were the only things keeping her grounded. "Azzi, I swear to God—that feels so good."

"Yeah?" Azzi murmured, her voice low and intimate as her lips trailed along Paige’s neck sucking on the spots she knew her girlfriend loved. "Doesn’t sound like average to me."

Paige groaned, her fingers flexing against Azzi’s skin. "I didn’t mean it," she admitted, her voice breaking into a soft whimper as Azzi shifted again, her movements with her fingers achingly precise. "You’re so good—too good. God, Azzi, don’t stop."

Azzi chuckled against her skin, her lips grazing the sensitive spot beneath Paige’s ear. "I wasn’t planning to," she murmured, her tone smug but full of affection. "I love hearing you like this."

Paige let out a shaky laugh, though it was quickly overtaken by another sharp inhale. "You just love driving me crazy," she accused, her voice trembling.

"Maybe," Azzi replied with a grin, leaving a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses down to Paige’s collarbone. "But I think you like it."

"I do," Paige confessed without hesitation, her voice raw and honest as her nails dug lightly into Azzi’s sides. "You make me feel so… Azzi, I—"

"Shh," Azzi soothed, her lips brushing over Paige’s sternum now, her free hand sliding to cradle Paige’s waist. "I know, baby. I know."

Paige’s breath hitched again as Azzi continued her steady, unrelenting rhythm, her lips and hands moving in perfect harmony. "Azzi, please," Paige murmured, her voice trembling with both desperation and adoration.

Azzi looked up at her with a soft smile, her brown eyes gleaming. "Please, what?" she asked, her tone playful but her actions anything but, her lips pressing to Paige’s skin with deliberate slowness.

Paige’s jaw clenched as she tried to hold onto some semblance of control, but another sound escaped her, this one low and unrestrained. "Please don’t stop. Don’t ever stop," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion as her hands slid up to frame Azzi’s face.

Azzi’s breath hitched at Paige’s words, her own resolve faltering as she moved her hands faster, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. "I love you," Azzi murmured, her voice low but filled with conviction, the words carrying a weight that only deepened the intensity between them.

Paige’s reaction was immediate. Her body arched into Azzi’s touch, and the sound she made was raw and uninhibited, echoing through the room in a way that made Azzi’s heart race. "Azzi," Paige gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of need and emotion. "I—I love you too."

Azzi smiled, her own heart swelling as she pressed a series of lingering kisses to Paige’s jaw and neck. Her hands continued their work, her movements more deliberate, more assured, as she drew out another string of sounds from Paige that were louder, more unrestrained than anything she’d made all night.

"You’re so perfect," Azzi whispered against her skin, her words punctuated by soft, open-mouthed kisses trailing down Paige’s collarbone. "You don’t even know how much I love hearing you like this. Knowing I’m the only one that’s ever made you feel like this."

Paige’s hands tightened in Azzi’s hair, her fingers threading through the curly strands as her voice cracked again. "You—Azzi, you’re—God, you’re everything," she choked out, her voice breaking with every syllable.

Azzi’s lips quirked into a smile as she glanced up at Paige, her brown eyes dark with affection and desire. "And you’re mine," she murmured, her tone low and possessive, sending a shiver down Paige’s spine.

"Yes," Paige whispered, her voice barely audible as her body trembled beneath Azzi’s touch. "Only yours. Always yours."

Azzi kissed her again, slow and deep, swallowing every sound Paige made as her movements grew more purposeful. Paige clung to her, her words dissolving into soft gasps and pleas that spilled from her lips like a mantra.

After a particularly perfect curl of Azzi’s fingers Paige’s head tipped back against the pillow, her eyes fluttering shut as she gave herself over to the moment entirely. Her voice filled the room with cries of Azzi’s name, punctuated by gasps and broken declarations of love. 

Azzi couldn’t help but smile against her skin, her own heart pounding as she leaned up to kiss Paige’s lips again. "I got you, baby," she murmured, her words melting into the kiss as she helped Paige come down from the edge, her focus solely on the woman in her arms. 

Azzi shifts, sitting up and straddling Paige now. Her movements were slow and deliberate to tease Paige, as she brought her wet fingers to her lips, making a show of sucking them. Her gaze never left Paige’s as she let her tongue glide along her fingers, savoring the moment. 

Paige, still breathing heavily, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that matched the erratic beat of her heart, could only watch in a daze. Her blue eyes were locked on Azzi, completely entranced by the display. She swallowed hard, her voice hoarse as she tried to regain some semblance of control.

“Come here,” Paige murmured, her hands finding Azzi’s hips as she started to sit up, intending to flip their positions.

But before she could take charge, Azzi placed a firm hand on her chest, gently pushing her back down onto the bed.

“No, not tonight,” Azzi said, her tone leaving no room for argument. She leaned down, her lips ghosting over Paige’s as she continued. “You hurt yourself, remember? Let me just take care of you for once.”

Paige groaned in protest, her hands moving to rest on Azzi’s thighs, but the weight of Azzi’s words, combined with the tenderness in her gaze, kept her pinned. “Azzi…” Paige started, her voice soft but tinged with frustration.

Azzi silenced her with a kiss, slow and deep, pouring every ounce of affection into it until Paige’s tension melted away. When she pulled back, her smile was back, teasing and full of mischief. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

Paige huffed, her pout almost endearing as she let her head fall back against the pillow. “Fine,” she muttered, her voice laced with reluctant acceptance. “But don’t think this means I’m weak.”

Azzi chuckled, tracing her fingers lightly over Paige’s collarbone. “Oh, trust me, baby. I know exactly how strong you are.” She leaned down, brushing her lips against Paige’s ear as she whispered, “Now just relax and let me take care of you tonight.”

The words sent a shiver through Paige, her protest fading as she surrendered to Azzi’s gentle dominance. Her hands stayed on Azzi’s thighs, grounding herself in the moment as her girlfriend took her time, showering her with care and affection, making it clear just how much Paige meant to her.

[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (5); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8k+

Chapter Warnings: vandalization, wooyoung, your mom.

A/N: i’m so sorry for the super late update omg. since it’s the holiday season, my friends dragged me on an impromptu trip to the mountains, and I didn’t have proper wifi for like three days, so I couldn’t really proof read and post updates. anyways, i was thinking it might be a good idea to set fixed days of the week for updates, so I don’t leave you all hanging for too long. how about we make it every tuesday for this one? and if I’m feeling extra motivated, you might even get impromptu updates in between !! let me know what you think <3 also what do you guys think about this part? i really tried to mirror eleanor's character here hehehehe

part 5

Jungkook gulps, the uneasiness in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. His thoughts spiral... how could he not know something so significant about you? The weight of Wooyoung’s words lingers like a dark cloud, and Jungkook feels a pang of frustration at his own cluelessness.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung sits there, exuding smug satisfaction, his tone dripping with judgment and condescension. Before Jungkook can even think of a response, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

"Hey, Jungkook! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

It’s Namjoon, one of your and Taehyung’s cousins. Jungkook immediately recognizes him from the tea ceremony and their brief interactions earlier on the cruise.

Without hesitation, Namjoon strides over, his easy grin never faltering as he helps Jungkook up from the bar, casually slinging an arm over his shoulder in a protective, almost brotherly gesture.

Jungkook blinks, startled but compliant, his gaze lingering on Wooyoung for a moment longer before he lets Namjoon steer him away.

As they weave through the pulsating crowd on the dance floor, Namjoon leans in slightly, his voice pitched low enough to be heard over the booming bass of the DJ’s set. "Looks like you needed some saving." he murmurs, a soft knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook casts one last glance at the chaotic swirl of neon lights and bodies moving in sync with the music. The atmosphere feels oppressive, the conversation with Wooyoung still swirling in his head, but Namjoon’s steady presence offers a much-needed sense of calm.

"You okay?" Namjoon asks once they’re out of earshot, his concern evident as he peers at Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales deeply, his hand running through his hair. "Who... was that?" he asks, his voice strained, laced with lingering frustration and confusion. Namjoon chuckles softly, his grip on Jungkook’s shoulder steady as they put more distance between themselves and the chaotic energy of the party.

"That?" he repeats, shaking his head slightly. "That was Wooyoung. A bit of a wildcard, but mostly harmless... as long as you don’t let him get into your head."

Jungkook frowns, his mind still caught in the web of the earlier conversation. "He said some... things." he murmurs, his voice laced with tension. "About Y/n, about their past... and how her mom wanted them to—" He stops abruptly, the words sticking in his throat, as if saying them aloud might solidify them into something undeniable.

Namjoon sighs, his expression softening as he glances at Jungkook. "Yeah, Wooyoung does have a knack for stirring the pot." he admits. "And... well, he’s not entirely wrong about some of it."

Jungkook’s head snaps towards Namjoon, his brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "But you’ve got to understand something, Jungkook." Namjoon begins, his tone measured.

"Y/n’s life before you? It’s complicated. Her mom? Even more so. She’s... traditional. She wanted Y/n to settle down here, to live the life she envisioned for her. Going to New York? Pursuing fashion? That wasn’t part of the plan. Her mom thought..." He trails off as they reach a quieter corner, settling near a small table where the thumping bass of the music fades to a faint hum.

"She thought Y/n would drift away... from her culture, her roots, everything she was raised with." Namjoon continues, his voice lower now. "So, she brought Wooyoung into the picture."

Jungkook leans forward slightly, absorbing every word, trying to piece together this part of your life he hadn’t known.

"They didn’t date." Namjoon clarifies quickly, sensing Jungkook’s unease. "Hell, Y/n couldn’t even stand the guy. He’s off-putting, doesn’t know how to respect boundaries, and, honestly, just a jerk. I don’t even know why Seokjin invited him tonight. Even Taehyung can’t stand him." He pauses, shaking his head in exasperation before continuing.

"Anyway, Y/n’s mom had this whole idea that Wooyoung was the perfect match... stable, from a good family, all that nonsense. She thought marrying him would keep Y/n grounded, keep her here. But Y/n? She wasn’t having any of it." he pauses, looking at Jungkook.

"She rebelled, stood her ground, and thank god for Taehyung and her dad. They backed her up, and eventually, her mom had no choice but to let her go and do what she wanted."

Namjoon leans back, his gaze steady as he studies Jungkook. "Look, Y/n’s family dynamic is... complex. But she’s here now, and she chose her path. And she chose you." His words linger, grounding Jungkook in the present as the weight of the past begins to feel just a little less overwhelming.

Jungkook stays silent, sitting stiffly as the reality of everything sinks in. His hooded eyes stay fixed on the table, his mind churning with thoughts he’s struggling to process. Namjoon notices, his concern deepening at the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and his distant expression.

"Hey..." Namjoon says gently a few second later, leaning forward. "Why don’t we head back to your room? I’ll call a few friends, and we can just hang out, play some cards, or something chill." He’s clearly trying to distract Jungkook, offering him an escape from the storm brewing inside.

Jungkook finally looks up, his lips curving into a tight, appreciative smile. The gesture speaks volumes, and Namjoon doesn’t push further, understanding the gratitude in his silence. A distraction sounds good, better than sitting here, drowning in the spiral of his own thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." Jungkook agrees, his voice subdued. He rises from his seat, and Namjoon drapes a casual arm over his shoulders again as they make their way out.

"You’re a good guy, you know that?" Namjoon says, his tone light but sincere. "I’ve heard so much about you from Y/n and Tae. Don’t let stuff like this get to you. It’s not worth it."

Jungkook nods, his expression unreadable. He’s heard words like that more than once lately, but they leave him unsure... comforted, yes, but also questioning what kind of person he truly is. Still, he doesn’t dwell on it, choosing instead to follow Namjoon’s lead.

As Namjoon pulls out his phone to text a few friends, Jungkook exhales slowly. The familiar comfort of his cabin feels like a welcome retreat. But the moment he unlocks the door and steps inside, the comfort vanishes.

"What the fuck?" Namjoon blurts out beside him, his voice sharp with shock. Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos. His room is unrecognizable... furniture overturned, belongings scattered everywhere. But it’s the wall that grabs his attention, a chill running down his spine.

GO BACK TO NEW YORK, YOU BROKE MOTHERFUCKER.

The words are scrawled in bold red spray paint, glaringly hostile against the pale wall. Jungkook’s lips part in disbelief as he struggles to process what he’s seeing.

His gaze darts around the wreckage, landing on his camera lying on the floor. The sight makes his stomach drop... the lens is shattered, pieces of glass glinting in the light. His fists clench at his sides, and his jaw tightens as anger bubbles beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps forward cautiously, his brows furrowed as he surveys the destruction. "Who the hell would do this?" he mutters, his tone a mix of anger and disbelief.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he stares at the damage. Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to vandalize... they were sending a message. A clear, personal message meant to hurt, to unsettle.

Namjoon places a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Jungkook...” he says, his tone steady but urgent. “We need to report this. Now.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “No, it’s okay.” he breathes out. “I don’t want to make a scene.” He doesn’t elaborate, but deep down, a suspicion simmers. He has a hunch who’s behind this.

Namjoon’s lips press into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. His gaze flickers over Jungkook’s tense expression before he nods reluctantly. “Alright...” he concedes, though the hesitation in his voice is evident. “But at least... let’s get someone to clean this up.”

As they step out of the cabin in search of help, Jungkook’s eyes catch a flicker of movement down the hallway. A group of men stand at the far end, partially hidden behind the corner of a wall. They’re watching him.

The moment Jungkook’s gaze locks on them, they smirk, their expressions dripping with smugness, almost as if they’re proud of what they’ve done.

Jungkook’s stomach churns as the group casually turns and saunters away, their laughter echoing faintly. It’s obvious... they’re Wooyoung’s friends. The realization cements his earlier suspicion, and anger flares in his chest.

Childish. Immature. Petty. That’s all he can think. What kind of people stoop so low, targeting someone just because of who they’re dating? He feels the bitterness rise in his throat but forces himself to swallow it. Dwelling on it would give them more power than they deserve.

Namjoon notices the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor and follows his line of sight. “Them?” he asks, his voice low. Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose and nods, though he says nothing.

Instead, he straightens his posture, his resolve hardening. “Let’s just focus on fixing this.” he says finally, his voice steady. He’s unsettled, undeniably, but he refuses to let them win by giving the reaction they clearly want.

As the staff arrive to clean up the mess, Jungkook quietly requests Namjoon to let the incident go. “Please... don’t tell anyone about this.” he murmurs, his tone firm. “Not Taehyung... not Y/n. No one.” He says and Namjoon nods understandingly though he feels Wooyoung's actions need to be informed, especially to you.

The cruise crew, apologetic and accommodating, offers him a new cabin for the night while all the repairs are arranged. Jungkook accepts with a quiet nod, and Namjoon insists on helping him move his luggage.

Once everything is settled, Namjoon lingers at the doorway of the new cabin. His brows knit together in concern as he looks at Jungkook.

“You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” he asks gently. Jungkook stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He offers a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” he says, his voice quieter now.

Namjoon observes him for a beat longer, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. “Thanks for tonight, Namjoon.” Jungkook says after a moment, breaking the silence.

“No need to thank me, man. Just... if you need anything, call me, okay?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but reassuring. He gives Jungkook a small, supportive smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Now alone, Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. The events of the night replay in his mind, but they’re overshadowed by the larger storm brewing within him.

The spray-painted words and broken camera are bothersome, sure, but they pale in comparison to the weight of the new information he’s learned about you.

Why hadn’t you told him?

The question gnaws at him. His thoughts spiral, each one sharper than the last. He wonders about the secrets you kept... your family’s reality, their influence, their power, their reach. Part of him understands, he really does.

But another part wonders if you didn’t trust him enough or if you were testing him somehow. The doubt curls in his chest, tightening with each passing second.

Before he can sink further into his thoughts, his phone buzzes. The screen lights up, and your name flashes on it. He stares at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button as he draws a calming breath. He doesn’t want you to know what happened tonight. Not yet.

And even amidst the chaos, he’s missed you, and the thought of hearing your voice is a welcome relief. He finally picks up, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Kook!!” Your voice is bright and warm, cutting through his clouded thoughts. Despite himself, Jungkook smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Hi, baby.” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matches yours. For a moment, everything else fades, and it’s just the two of you again.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” you whine, your voice filled with a playful pout. Jungkook exhales a soft laugh, leaning back onto the mattress and clutching his phone tighter against his ear. A smile tugs at his lips, one he doesn’t bother to suppress as he stares at the unfamiliar ceiling of his new cabin.

“Why? Is Jeju that boring?” he teases, the humor in his voice masking the heaviness still lingering from earlier. “Without you? Everything’s boring.” you retort, the response so quick and earnest it pulls a chuckle from him. The sound carries a warmth that he didn’t realize he desperately needed until now.

“How’s the cruise going? Having fun?” you ask, your words bubbling with genuine curiosity. Jungkook’s eyes flit to the corner of the room, where his suitcase sits haphazardly unpacked.

Fun. The word feels almost foreign after the day he’s had. But for you, he keeps his voice steady.

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” he lies smoothly, weaving the words together like armor. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that!” Your excitement is so pure, so untainted, it makes him momentarily forget the day he's had. “I went to the Snoopy Garden today and it was so freaking adorable! You’d love it. We have to come here together.” you beam.

He can’t help but smile at your words. “That sounds nice, baby.” he chuckles. “Make sure to send me pictures. I wanna see.”

“Of course! I’ll send them right after we hang up.” you promise, your enthusiasm so contagious that Jungkook feels the tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly.

As you continue to talk, filling him in on the small joys and whimsical adventures of your day at the island, he feels the tension seeping out of him.

Wooyoung, the spray-painted words, the shattered camera, the mocking laughter from the hallway, all of it fades into the periphery. Your voice, your laughter, the ease with which you share your world with him... it all anchors him in a way he can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, there’s a sudden muffled noise on your end, and Jungkook recognizes the sounds of your friends calling you. He doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s coming.

“Okay, baby, I think I have to go.” you say reluctantly, your voice tinged with guilt. “Miyeon and the girls are dragging me to dinner.”

He hums softly, a small, understanding smile curving his lips. “Of course, baby. Go have fun. Call me when you’re back, okay?” There’s a pause before he adds, with a quiet sincerity. “I love you.”

“Yes, I'll call you and I love you too.” you reply, your voice warm and unwavering. “Bye!”

The line goes dead, and for a moment, Jungkook stays there, staring at the phone in his hand. The cabin is silent again, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. You’ve always had a way of making the world feel a little lighter, and tonight is no exception.

//

The next day flies by in a haze of chatter, laughter, and shared moments as Jungkook spends most of his time with Namjoon and Namjoon's friends.

Despite the tension simmering beneath the surface, he doesn’t let Wooyoung or his friends’ antics claw their way under his skin. He’s determined not to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

By the next afternoon, he’s in Taehyung's car along with your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin, driving home back from the port. The ride is filled with easy conversation and the occasional bout of laughter, a welcome distraction from the remnants of unease still lingering in his mind.

“Thanks for coming, Jungkook. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you.” Taehyung says, glancing over at Jungkook from the driver's seat, his expression apologetic. “You know how it is... my friends were dragging me everywhere.”

“It’s all good, man.” Jungkook replies with a grin. “And I totally get it. It was your bachelor party, after all.” he adds. Taehyung laughs, the sound light and carefree. “Still, I wish I could've spent more time with my sister's boyfriend.”

The familiar sight of your house comes into view not long after as Taehyung zooms past the long driveway, and Jungkook feels a wave of relief wash over him. Exhaustion tugs at his limbs, but more than anything, a quiet longing stirs in his chest. All he wants right now is to see you.

After bidding the others goodbye and hauling his luggage inside, he heads straight to your room. Your flight should be landing any time now. He checks his phone absentmindedly, hoping for a message or a call to signal your return and for now, all he can do is wait.

//

Miyeon giggles as she stretches her arms, stepping out of the car. “Most healing bachelorette party ever.” she declares, a dreamy expression on her face.

“I can still feel my masseuse’s hands on me. I don’t know what magic she used, but it feels like my back and shoulders have been reborn.” she exhales. You laugh as the guards step forward to collect your luggage. “Honestly, same. I want to go back just to get that massage again.”

As the guards carry your bags towards the house, you follow Miyeon inside, the faint chatter of voices growing louder the deeper you go. Your heels click softly against the marble floor as you both approach the lounge, as familiar voices draw your attention.

You peek inside and instantly smile. Seokjin is hunched over the billiards table, holding his cue stick with a dramatic level of precision. Namjoon stands to the side, visibly exasperated, one hand holding his cue stick against the floor while his other hand rests on his hip as he watches Seokjin line up a shot.

“Look Namjoon...” Seokjin drawls, his tone a mix of amusement and condescension. “You're supposed to stand like this. Your posture is a disgrace to billiards.”

Namjoon groans, running a hand through his hair. “Hyung, my posture isn’t the problem. The problem is you’re cheating.”

“Cheating?!” Seokjin straightens, feigning deep offense. “Excuse me, I play with honor and integrity. You, on the other hand, couldn’t aim if your life depended on it.” he shrugs.

“You’re just salty because your aim’s been off the entire game." Namjoon fires back. “Watch. I’m about to sink three balls in one shot.”

“Sure.” Taehyung interjects from his spot by the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey casually. “And when you miss, Jin hyung will find a way to roast you for the next hour.”

You and Miyeon exchange amused glances, both of you shaking your heads as the banter continues. Namjoon leans over the table dramatically, his cue stick angled as though he’s about to make the shot of the century.

Seokjin watches him like a hawk, ready to pounce on any mistake. Taehyung simply sips his drink, muttering something under his breath about “hopeless competitors.”

As you approach them, your thoughts wander. Despite the comfort of home and the familiarity of these voices, a part of you feels incomplete. Your eyes sweep the room once more, subtly searching for your boyfriend.

You’re desperate to see him, to feel his arms around you, to close the unbearable distance that’s stretched between you these past two days.

Somehow, two days have felt like an eternity. You’ve replayed every text and call in your mind, but nothing compares to having him here, tangible, in front of you.

“Oh my god, baby...” Taehyung is the first to notice the two of you approaching. Without missing a beat, he sets his glass of whiskey down on the bar and strides forward, pulling Miyeon into a warm hug. “You guys are back!” he exclaims, his smile wide and genuine as he steps back to take a good look at both of you.

You can’t help but grin at him, waving at Namjoon and Seokjin, who have momentarily paused their game of billiards to acknowledge your arrival.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries and brief chatter about the island trip, you finally ask the question that’s been burning on your mind. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, he’s up in your room. He seemed a bit tired.” Namjoon answers. Your lips part slightly as you nod. “Okay then. I’ll go to him. You guys enjoy yourselves.” you say, offering a warm smile before hugging everyone. Turning on your heels, you exit the lounge and begin making your way towards the staircase.

Just when you're in the middle of ascending the stairs, a voice interrupts you. “Y/N!”

You glance over your shoulder at the sound of your name, only to see Namjoon trailing behind you, his steps hesitant. His expression holds something you can’t quite decipher, like he’s battling with his own thoughts.

“Joonie?” you say, your voice laced with curiosity and just a hint of concern as you watch him climb the stairs to meet you.

“Hey...” he breathes out, stopping a step below yours, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor before he looks at you. His hesitation sends a ripple of unease through you.

“What’s up, Joonie??” you ask gently, studying his face for clues. The slight tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales like he’s carrying a weight he’s unsure he should share, it all sets your nerves alight.

“Y/N…” he begins, pausing as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve been debating whether to tell you this, but…” He trails off, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. You take a step closer, your heart beginning to pound. “Joonie?? Is everything okay??"

He sighs deeply, the sound heavy and conflicted. “Well.. It’s about Jungkook...”

The mention of your boyfriend immediately tightens something in your chest. “What happened to Jungkook?” you ask quickly, your voice rising with worry.

Namjoon hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “He didn’t want me to tell you this... but…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel right to keep this from you. You should know.”

Your stomach churns, dread blooming in your chest. “Know what? What happened?” you ask again.

Namjoon looks away for a moment, as though gathering the courage to speak, before his eyes meet yours again. “It started at the bar… Wooyoung approached him. He said some things... about your past... about how your mom wanted... you and Wooyoung to get married.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Namjoon presses on, his voice tinged with anger. “But it didn’t stop there. Wooyoung’s friends... well.. they went after Jungkook. They trashed his cabin... broke his camera... spray-painted some cruel things on the wall.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.

“They did what?” you ask, disbelief dripping from your voice. This was the last thing you ever expected to hear. Your chest tightens painfully as the weight of Namjoon’s words settles in. Jungkook had endured all of this alone and you hadn’t had the slightest clue.

And of course, knowing him you understand why he didn't want this to reach you. And somehow that breaks your heart and fills you with guilt, especially because he found out about something you’d been carefully waiting for the right moment to tell him. The layers of emotions overwhelm you, each more suffocating than the last.

“Why... why was Wooyoung even on that cruise?” you ask, your voice rising with frustration now, the disbelief giving way to simmering anger. Namjoon raises his hands quickly in defense. “Hey, That's on Jin Hyung.” he says.

"But anyways, I really thought you should know this." His voice softens as he continues. “Jungkook seemed pretty shaken up by it, even though he tried not to show it. So… please, just take care of him.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The gratitude you feel for Namjoon is momentary, overshadowed by the urgency now coursing through your veins. Without wasting another second, you turn on your heel and dash up the stairs, heading towards your room.

//

Jungkook smiles to himself as he rests on the pillow, scrolling through the videos you'd sent him over the past two days. His chest warms as he watches a clip of you playing with two cats on the island, your laughter echoing softly through the speaker.

The way your nose scrunches in delight makes his heart flutter, and he giggles quietly, his thumb hovering over the replay button. "Where are you?" he mutters under his breath with a wistful sigh, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile.

And just like magic, the door to your room suddenly bursts open with a loud bang. He jumps slightly, his phone nearly slipping from his hand. Before he can even process your sudden arrival, you’re bolting towards him.

Jungkook barely has time to sit up straight before you fling yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around him with a ferocity that nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs.

“Baby—” he starts, his voice laced with confusion and concern, but you cut him off before he can finish. “I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky breath, muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Your hold on him tightens. “I’m sorry. Namjoon told me everything. I’m sorry about Wooyoung, I’m sorry about his friends, I’m sorry about your cabin, I’m sorry about your camera…” Your voice breaks slightly as you ramble, the guilt pouring out of you in waves.

Jungkook exhales deeply, and you feel the tension in his body ease as his arms come around you, his hands resting gently on your back. He holds you close, rubbing soothing circles against your spine.

“Is this how you’re going to greet me after spending two whole days in Jeju?” he teases, his voice light with humor, though you can hear the warmth beneath it. “What happened to ‘hi, hello, I missed you?’”

Despite the joking tone, the tender way Jungkook rubs your back anchors you. You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet warmth that seems to steady your unraveling thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, Kook.” you repeat, your voice trembling as you try to convey the depth of your regret.

He shakes his head gently, his hand leaving your back to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Baby, why are you apologizing for something you had no control over?” he asks, his tone light but earnest. “You’re not responsible for what Wooyoung or his friends did.”

“I should’ve told you about him...” you admit, your voice low, almost wavering. “About us, our past… everything. I should've been honest.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple gesture makes your chest tighten with emotion, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

When he pulls back, his gaze is steady but contemplative. “Baby...” he starts carefully, his voice softer now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod instantly, your heart thudding. “Of course. Anything.” you say. He hesitates, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes making your stomach churn. “Why didn’t you... why didn't ever you tell me about your family?” he asks at last, the question laced with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

Your breath hitches at the question, and for a moment, you feel exposed. But a part of you knew this was coming. You knew that hiding your life from Jungkook and then unveiling it all on a random Thursday would inevitably lead to this moment.

“It's just…” You pause, your voice wavering as you try to find the right words, your eyes searching his face for reassurance. “Kook, when we first met... you had no idea who I was or who my family was and... you were just so... so different from all the men I grew up with.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady, waiting for you to continue. Instead, you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, his silent way of encouraging you to speak your truth.

“You were this bright, passionate man with these beautiful, expressive eyes and that gorgeous, dreamy smile...” you begin, your voice trembling as a fond smile tugs at your lips.

“And for the first time in forever, I felt like I could just… breathe around someone. With you, I didn’t have to be this polished or poised woman who had to fit into some high-class society mold. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else... because being myself around you... was just... so easy, without having to worry about where I came from and who my family was.”

Your thumb gently traces over the faint scar on his cheek, a gesture so intimate it makes his heart jump. His gaze softens, melting into yours as if you're the only person in the world. “You just... liked me for me. Not because of my family, my connections, or my status, but because of who I was with you. You saw me... the real me... when I didn’t even know how to see myself.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you don’t look away, letting him see the emotion in your eyes. “I know it was selfish of me... but I... so badly wanted to hold on to that feeling... the feeling of being loved in a way that felt so… pure." you pause, a shallow breath escaping your lips.

" I just… I just I didn’t know how to tell you about that part of me...”

Jungkook listens intently, his expression softening even more as your words sink in. Slowly, he tugs you closer, pulling you into his warm embrace. You feel his heartbeat steady against your own, his presence grounding you in a way only he can.

“Baby...” he whispers, his voice low as his fingertips trail soothing patterns along your back. “For me, it’s always been you. It always will be you. None of that other stuff matters... your family, your status, your class... they’re just parts of you that I’ll embrace because they make up the woman I love. But beyond all that, I love you for you.”

His voice dips into something deeper, more vulnerable. “And I’m glad I could bring out the real you. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and it’s an honor to be able to experience that side of you." he hugs you tighter, before continuing.

"You have no idea how my world has changed ever since you entered it. You make everything... brighter and just... more bearable. You make it all make sense. So thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Your eyes well up as you close them, leaning into his embrace. The warmth of his words, paired with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feels like the safest place you’ve ever known. “Thank you for coming into my life too.” you breathe out, voice thick with emotion.

After a beat of silence, you pull back slightly. “But I’m still sorry about Wooyoung. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I swear—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head. “There’s no need for that. Let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

You pout, reluctant to let it go, but his soft, reassuring expression makes you falter. “Fine...” you huff, a sigh escaping your lips. “Still...” you murmur, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his collar. “I’m sorry, Kook. Thank you... for always being so understanding. I truly don’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, the faintest hint of exasperation softened by the smile tugging at his lips. "You deserve the world, baby. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

A soft giggle escapes you, the light in his eyes mirrored by the smile that refuses to leave your lips. “I love you.” you whisper, the words filled with every ounce of emotion you’ve been holding in.

His toothy smile, the one that always makes your heart flutter, breaks across his face. “I love you too.” he replies.

And just like that, as if drawn by an unspoken force, he leans in, capturing your lips with his. The warmth of his kiss washes over you, soothing every ache, every worry, and filling you with a certainty that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

//

"Do we get to eat them ??" Jungkook asks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes following your reflection in the mirror as you brush your hair. A giggle escapes your lips at his eager tone. “Of course, baby. You can eat all of them if you want to.” you reply, shooting him a playful grin.

With the wedding just around the corner, the house is bustling with preparations, but today feels different. Your grandma insisted on gathering everyone to make dumplings for the rehearsal dinner that's coming up.

You and Jungkook make your way to the dining room, the air filled with the warm aroma of freshly prepared ingredients. The large table is the centerpiece of the room, and as soon as you step inside, the sight of your family fills you with comfort and joy.

Taehyung and Seokjin are already deep in their dumpling-making attempts, though it's clear they’ve caused more chaos than progress.

Both of them have flour smeared across their faces like war paint, a result of what must’ve been an enthusiastic but poorly thought-out experiment.

“Hyung, that dumpling looks like a deflated balloon.” Taehyung teases Seokjin, holding up his creation for comparison. Seokjin huffs, rolling his eyes. “At least mine isn’t oozing out stuffing like yours, Tae. What are you making? A dumpling that's throwing up?”

“Call it modern art, Hyung.” Taehyung retorts, grinning mischievously as he tosses a bit of flour at Seokjin, who gasps dramatically. “Yah! Taehyung, do you want me to dump this entire bowl of stuffing on your head?” Seokjin warns, clearly frustrated.

Across the table, Namjoon and Miyeon work with quiet precision, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Namjoon occasionally sneaks a glance at the chaos brewing between Taehyung and Seokjin, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“You two are worse than toddlers.” he quips, not looking up from his perfectly shaped dumpling. “At this rate, we're all gonna finish a hundred dumplings before you guys finish ten.”

Miyeon chuckles, her hands deftly sealing another dumpling. “Joon's right. How are you both so bad at this? It’s not rocket science.”

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me, babe, I don't know if you've noticed but Jin hyung is literally sabotaging me!” he exclaims. “I’m the one sabotaging you?” Seokjin laughs incredulously. “Look at my face, Tae. I look like a ghost, thanks to you!”

Namjoon’s mom, your favorite aunt, sits at the far end of the table as she rolls the dough into perfect circles, her laughter ringing like a bell.

“Boys, boys...” she interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “Stop fighting and focus on your dumplings. Otherwise, your future kids will hear stories about how their dads couldn’t make dumplings to save their lives.”

Everyone bursts out laughing at her comment, even Taehyung and Seokjin, who share a sheepish grin before returning to their task.

As you and Jungkook approach the group, everyone greets the two of you with warm smiles. Jungkook pulls out a chair for you to sit, earning a scrunch of your nose in fondness at the sweet gesture. After you’re settled, he takes the seat beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours under the table.

"So, I see Tae and Jin are already setting records... for failure...” you quip, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you glance at the disfigured dumplings piled in front of them. “Hey, those are Tae’s!” Seokjin protests, pushing forward another plate of equally disastrous dumplings. “Mine look way better, see?”

“Ah, yes.” you reply with mock solemnity, inspecting the plate. “Such fine craftsmanship. Truly an expert.” you giggle.

Everyone bursts into laughter and so does Jungkook, his eyes crinkling as he takes in the scene. He looks around, marveling at the tender warmth that surrounds your family.

“Okay, watch closely everyone...” you suddenly announce, picking up a perfect circle of dough. “The secret to making a good dumpling is love. And also, not being like Taehyung.” you grin.

“Hey!” Taehyung protests, earning another round of laughter. You press on, your tone turning exaggeratedly instructive.

“First, you scoop just the right amount of stuffing... not too much, or it’ll explode like Tae’s modern art pieces.” You hold up a small spoonful of filling, placing it precisely in the center of the dough. Jungkook observes your actions, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Next, you fold it in half, like you’re tucking it in for a nap. Be gentle, it’s delicate.”

Jungkook leans in closer, watching intently as your fingers press the edges together. “Then, you join the edges, like this... pinch... pinch... pinch.” you continue, your fingers deftly creating a neat, ruffled pattern. “Think of it as accessorizing your dumpling... it needs to be cute, you know?”

“Wow...” Jungkook murmurs, his voice full of awe. “You’re like the Michelangelo of dumplings.” he giggles. “Please.” you reply with a dramatic shrug. “I’m just a humble dumpling artist.”

Emboldened, Jungkook picks up his own piece of dough, determination written all over his face. “Alright, let me try. Scoop... fold.... pinch, pinch, pinch… done!” He holds up his quick creation triumphantly. You glance at it and press your lips together to stifle a laugh.

“Hmm....” you say, tilting your head. “Looks like your dumpling had a very long night.” you tease as the rest of the table laughs. “It’s rustic.” Jungkook counters, grinning despite himself. “Rustic indeed.” you tease, your laugh mingling with his.

As Jungkook continues fumbling with the dough, his brow furrowed in concentration, he glances around the lively table and decides to engage. “So, did you guys do this even as kids?” he asks, his voice light and curious as eyes dart between you, Taehyung and your cousins.

Before anyone can respond, the mood shifts. Your mother strides into the room, carrying a fresh tray of stuffing. Jungkook’s posture stiffens instinctively as her gaze briefly locks with his.

Her expression is impassive... polite on the surface but brimming with subtle tension. She sets the tray down and takes a seat directly across from the two of you, her movements precise and deliberate.

“Hi, Mama.” you greet warmly, your voice bright as you flash her a quick smile. She returns it with practiced ease but doesn’t linger, her attention quickly shifting to the task at hand. Her eyes flick to Jungkook, assessing him with a glance that’s colder than he’d prefer. He swallows hard, the discomfort settling in his chest like a heavy stone.

“It was more like we didn’t have a choice.” Namjoon pipes up, steering the conversation back to Jungkook’s question. His teasing tone earns chuckles from Seokjin and Taehyung, who nod in agreement.

“Exactly.” your aunt chimes in, shooting Namjoon an exaggerated glare. "We taught you, so you'd know the blood, sweat and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys." she says as everyone laughs. Jungkook smiles faintly, grateful for the distraction, though the unease lingers.

The past few days at your family’s home had been a mix of warmth and tension for him. While the rest of your family had embraced him easily, your mother’s guarded demeanor made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. He’s done his best to stay out of her way, but now, sitting face-to-face, her disapproval is palpable.

“If we don’t pass down traditions like this, they’ll disappear.” your mother says suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter. She folds the dough around a perfect mound of stuffing, her movements sharp and efficient. Without lifting her eyes from her work, she continues. “I’m sure you find all of this unusual.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and Jungkook feels the weight of her unspoken judgment. “They don’t teach things like this in the West, do they?” she continues, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes are cool, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

The room falls silent, the cheerful chatter replaced by thick tension. Jungkook swallows, unsure how to respond while you shift in your seat, your breath hitching at the unwanted confrontation. Before you can step in, Seokjin's voice breaks the silence.

“Grandma!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet as your grandmother enters the room. He strides towards her with exaggerated enthusiasm, offering his arm. “You’re finally here!”

Grateful for the distraction, everyone rises to greet her respectfully. Her presence is like a balm, soothing the room’s strained energy. She smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she takes in the bustling scene.

“Y/N-ah...” she says, her gaze landing on you before shifting to Jungkook. “You brought Jungkook too.” Her smile widens as she inches closer to him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek gently. “Hello, sweetheart.” she says, her voice warm and affectionate.

Jungkook bows slightly, his lips curving into a polite smile. “Hello, Grandma.” he replies softly, the tension in his chest easing under her kind gaze.

As everyone settles back into their seats, your grandmother sits at the head of the table, near your mother, her sharp eyes scanning the dumplings in front of her. “Did you make those?” she asks lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Your mother forces out a stiff smile. “Yes, Ma.” she replies. “Hmm.” your grandmother hums thoughtfully, inspecting the dumplings more closely. “It seems you’ve lost your touch.” she adds.

Jungkook notices the way your mother’s jaw tightens, her forced smile barely hiding the undercurrent of irritation. “I’ll do better.” she replies, her voice taut, the words clipped as if forcing themselves out.

It’s a subtle moment, so fleeting it slips past everyone else in the room, including you. But Jungkook catches it. The way her fingers pause ever so slightly over the dumpling she’s shaping, the sharp edge in her tone... it all lingers in the air, faint yet telling.

Just as he processes what he’s seen, your mother’s gaze suddenly snaps up, meeting his. Jungkook’s eyes widen instinctively, caught off guard by her piercing stare. Her expression shifts in an instant, the forced warmth melting away to reveal a sour look that seems to pin him in place.

In that split second, Jungkook realizes... she knows he saw it.

Not wanting to overstep or make things worse he quickly averts his eyes, pretending to focus on the dumpling in his hands. He swallows hard, willing himself to appear unaffected, as though he hadn’t just witnessed the moment.

But the unease remains. He can feel her gaze lingering on him for a second longer before she looks away, her mask of politeness slipping back into place.

Jungkook exhales softly, his shoulders tight as he resumes his task. He glances at you, wondering if you’ve noticed anything, but you’re too engrossed in folding the dumplings to sense the silent exchange.

Still, the weight of your mother's reaction stays with him. For the first time, he wonders if your mother’s reservations aren’t just about him but about something deeper, something unresolved within her.

//

As Jungkook steps out of the dining room, the faint smell of flour and spices still clinging to his hands, he glances around, searching for the washroom. Despite having spent days at your house, he still finds the maze-like layout disorienting. The grand size of the place only adds to his sense of displacement.

He sighs in mild frustration, realizing he’s turned down the wrong hallway yet again. Just as he’s about to retrace his steps, he notices someone approaching from the other end. His stomach sinks slightly as he recognizes your mother.

She seems preoccupied as she carefully dusts her dress. Jungkook freezes instinctively, his smile faltering as she nears. Though he musters up a polite smile when she looks up, she doesn’t return it.

As the silence stretches and her gaze lingers on him, Jungkook decides to break the tension. “I’m…” he begins, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m a little lost.” he admits with an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway behind him.

Your mother stops a few feet away, her arms crossed loosely. Her expression is unreadable, though Jungkook can feel the weight of her scrutiny. “This house can be... confusing.” she replies, her tone neutral but edged with something unspoken.

Jungkook nods quickly, eager to agree. “Yeah, definitely. I thought I had it figured out, but I keep ending up in the wrong place.” He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She studies him for a moment longer before sighing quietly. “The washroom is down that way.” she curtly says, pointing towards the opposite hall.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Jungkook says, his tone earnest. He hesitates for a moment, feeling the urge to say something more... something to break the wall between them. “Also... I… I just really wanted to thank you..." he starts and your mother's brows furrow, trying to understand where this is coming from.

Jungkook notices her confusion and decides to press on, his voice tentative yet earnest. “For, um… for letting me stay here. I know it can’t be easy, having someone new around. But I just… I really appreciate it.” he says, his words measured yet sincere.

She studies him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curls one corner of her lips. “It isn’t easy.” she admits, her tone steady, though there’s an edge to it that makes him slightly uneasy.

“But, surprisingly…” she begins, stepping a little closer, her expression unreadable. “I see myself in you.” she says. Jungkook blinks, unsure how to respond. He waits, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“Y/N’s grandmother...” she continues, her voice calm. “She was never accepting of me. When Y/N’s father told her he wanted to marry me… well, let’s just say it was far from a warm approval.”

Her gaze locks onto Jungkook’s, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “I wasn’t her first choice. And, honestly...” she chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks humor. “I wasn’t her second either.”

Jungkook’s expression softens as understanding starts to dawn, the earlier interaction between her and your grandmother now making more sense. “Gosh… I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” he says quickly, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

She acknowledges his apology with a small smile, though her gaze remains cold, unyielding. “I didn’t come from the right family, didn’t have the right connections. To her, I wasn’t an adequate match for her son.” she explains.

“But… she eventually came around, right?” Jungkook asks cautiously, his tone tinged with hope. She exhales, the sound heavy with years of pent-up emotion.

“It took many years.” she admits, nodding faintly. “She had her reasons... valid ones, even. But I worked hard, sacrificed more than I ever thought I could. Eventually, she saw how much traditions and family mattered to me, and maybe that earned her respect. But...” she pauses, her faint smile turning somber. “There were many days when I wondered if I’d ever truly measure up.”

Jungkook listens intently, his chest tightening with a newfound appreciation for the struggles your mother seemed to have endured.

“And having lived through all of that...” she begins again, her voice lower now, each word carrying weight. “I know one thing for certain...”

She takes another step closer, her presence suddenly oppressive. Her smile twists into something darker, a faint smirk with a sharp edge that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“You will never be enough.”

<- part 4

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas

[biibini]

nsfw blurb: thigh riding modern!mizu

tags: smut blurb, modern!mizu, f!reader, good ol dirty talk, teasing, thigh riding (duhh), begging, fingering, soaked panties

a/n: this thought was keeping me sane during finals week… happy holidays everyone ;)

18+ content below!

modern!mizu wouldn’t complain ab the spontaneous idea

u? on top of her, naked, riding her thigh? well yes!

in fact, she’d be curious ab the idea, even egg u on, praising u with every thrust, guiding ur hips with the firm, slender hands

“That feels good, huh?”, Mizu hummed, her right hand caressing your side.

The latter was busy guiding your hips onto her thigh. The only thing between your warmth and her thigh was your soaking lace panties, tied with a small navy blue bow, her favorite piece out of your collection.

Your head knocks back as you groan with every thrust, keeping up the steady pace as Mizu lifts her leg against your throbbing heat.

God, she was good.

modern!mizu gets a good view of ur body and loving every bit of it

having direct access of ur hips, ur thighs, ur boobs, neck, etc

it couldn’t be helped that she left a mark or two or four

it was right in front of her!

(it looked at her first)

She pulls your breasts close to her face. The feeling of her mouth latch onto the supple skin throws you off.

Wet.

Soft.

Full pleasure.

You slowed your rhythm, letting yourself breathe as Mizu started her work on your boob, leaving soft kisses. You enjoy the moment, every touch of Mizu making your brain foggy from the affection.

That is until you feel her teeth softly bite down on the side of your boob, leaving a mark to bloom later that night.

“Mizu…”, you groan, your brain malfunctioning from the pleasure.

“Mm, I know.”, she answered, her thumb tracing the size of the hickey. “I’ll be gentle.”

“Liar.”

modern!mizu can feel every drop of your juices run down her thigh

trust me, she’s not complaining

she’s intrigued at how wet u can get without having her fingers messing up ur guts

(woah who wrote that)

“I’m getting soaked here, pretty girl.”

Mizu’s hands run down to your ass, gripping onto the skin as she deepens your thrust. Your panties, once dry, is dripping wet, now painting Mizu’s thigh with your slick.

“Mmm, I’m close baby.”, you groan, continuing your deep pace, “Please Mizu, just a little more.”

Her right hand snakes down to your soaked panties, letting the other hand slow down your thrusts.

“Almost there?”, she asks, her fingers palming your throbbing entrance through the thin, light blue fabric.

She’s smiling, and you know it.

Is this a little sadistic? Maybe.

But is her pretty girl begging for more? Yes.

You nod your head, spreading your legs farther apart as Mizu pulls the fabric to the side. Now exposed, you feel two digits drag down, catching every drop of slick that was sticking onto her thigh.

A moan erupts out of you, back arching and guiding your hips against her digits in hopes of chasing the high.

“Please.”, you cry.

A digit slides into your wet core, touching your aching walls. You forgot how good it felt with her inside. Pulling in and out, your moans grow louder.

Apparently, the volume of the wet noises also grows louder. With every thrust, your hips continue to be guided by her other hand, positioning you into a deep angle. Your walls start to squeeze and spasm, building up towards your inevitable release.

“So wet.”, Mizu groans, easily slipping in a second digit.

You feel fuller, the two hitting deep into your core, curling into the ceiling of your gummy walls. With every pump, Mizu feels your walls clamp around her fingers.

“I’m so… keep going Mizu.”

She continues to thrust inside, keeping the same pace. No matter how tight your walls were, Mizu continued to pump into you.

A wave of pleasure starts to build up inside of you. You feel it start to come to its peak, your voice moaning to the pace of her fingers.

Her thumb then flicks over your throbbing clit, gently circling around the sensitive skin. The wave reached its peak, now crashing down on Mizu’s fingers. You grip onto Mizu’s shoulders, pulling her close as your pleasure filled cries echoed in her ear late into the night.

[ok555ficideas]

Fragment of the next chapter of my amnesia Buddie fic "We made these memories for ourselves"

“Why did you tell him to leave?” Chris asked. 

His voice was small and almost inaudible. He looked way younger than he was and reminded Eddie so much of the little boy he used to be. 

“It’s better like this, Chris,” he replied, even though there was no strength behind his words. 

He had no idea what he was doing or what was actually better for them anymore. 

“Is it?” Chris’ head snapped up and his expression was full of hurt and anger. 

“I thought we agreed.” 

The boy looked away from him again and instead turned his gaze toward the window slightly to the left. It didn’t look like he was planning on saying anything more and he was clearly trying to hold back his tears. The last thing Eddie wanted was for Chirs to try and hide his emotions. He promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t let his son end up like him. 

“Chris,” his voice was gentle and he was hoping that it would reassure Chirs that he was allowed to be vulnerable, “if I had known that you missed Buck, I would have arranged for you to hang out with him sooner. You told me not to.” 

Eddie knew this wasn’t Chris’ fault. He had suspected that the boy wasn’t telling him the whole truth, but chose to ignore it because it made this easier for him. Chris not wanting to immediately hang out with Buck after coming back to LA was very weird and Eddie should have tried to get to the bottom of it sooner. 

“I was scared that you would send me back.” 

Whatever theories he had on the matter this wasn't even remotely close to it. 

“What?” his voice was louder than necessary and he wanted to kick himself as soon as he saw how startled Chris looked because of it. “I’m sorry,” he continued in a gentler tone, “what do you mean by that?” 

“You didn’t fight for me to come home. I wanted to almost immediately, because even though I was still mad at you, I missed you, but you just gave up so I thought it was easier for you to have me away.” 

Eddie wanted to scream. He wanted to bury his face in a pillow and scream his lungs out. Chris thought he didn’t want him to come home. From the moment Chirs left to the moment when Eddie finally had him back in his arms he was always on his mind. Whether in the back of it or at the very front depended on the moment, but he was always there. 

“And then you told me to come back,” Chris continued, “but I thought it was only because you lost Buck, so I was scared that if you got Buck back then you wouldn’t-” 

Eddie couldn’t take this anymore. He surged forward and enveloped Chris in a hug so tight, he was probably making it difficult for him to breathe. He couldn’t have Chris thinking like that for even a second longer. He pulled back, but only far enough to look Chris in the eyes.  

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into Chris’ hair, “I should have fought for you. I convinced myself that I deserved having you away. I was punishing myself.” He pulled back, but only far enough to look Chris in the eyes. “I’m sorry that I ever made you believe that you being away was a good thing for me.” His hand landed on his son’s shoulder, his thumb right on his pulse point to keep himself grounded. “I love you, Chris. You’re my everything and I was going mad without you and if I knew you wanted me to I would have begged you to come back every day.” 

There were tears streaming down both of their faces. Chirs moved forward to bury his head in Eddie’s chest and sobbed uncontrollably. He was saying something, but Eddie couldn’t hear anything from how muffled it was. He opted for just running his hand through the boy’s curls and let him let it all out.  

“I love you too.” Eddie heard Chris say after calming down a little. “And I miss Buck so much.” 

“Oh, sweetheart. I do too,” Eddie replied in a tight voice. 

[kptssecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @dr-lemurr!

Merry Christmas drlemurr! I love all the beautiful art you contribute to the fandom I hope you enjoy your gift <333

Ship: KimChay

Tags: Fluff, Boys in Skirts, Established Relationship, Gender Exploration, Being Walked in On

*****

A Reason To Be Pretty

Kim's meeting with his manager ended a lot earlier than expected. Kim used to want to drag out meetings and schedules so he could be Wik for longer, but now he has a beautiful boy waiting in his apartment for him to scoop up and kiss and cuddle so he had no problem leaving his manager's office half an hour early.

Kim opened their apartment door and walked in expecting Chay to leap up and greet him from the couch where he spends all his time studying and playing video games, but there was no Chay in sight. Kim walked around the house but couldn't find his boyfriend anywhere, maybe he went out, Kim thought. Finally Kim checked the bathroom. He opened the door not bothering to knock as he and Chay were not fussed about privacy with each other.

“Chay I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I was starting to get worried.” Kim whined. As he stepped onto the tiled floor all he could do was stare and blink.

Chay was standing in front of the mirror in a short blue pleated skirt, knee length socks, and a camisole, holding a tube of mascara. There was even a little bow clip in his hair. 

All that occupied Kim’s mind in that moment was how adorable Chay looked. 

Chay froze and blinked back at Kim before scrambling to run away. Being in the bathroom he did not have much luck and ended up squatting in between the sink and bathtub.

“I didn’t know you would be back so soon.” Chay said as he looked up at Kim.

“Huh.” Kim responded stupidly.

Chay opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally saying, “How about you get out of the bathroom and I get up from sitting on the floor and we can have a better conversation in the living room.”

“Yes. That's a good idea,” Kim nodded before exiting the bathroom backwards. He sat down on the couch and waited for Chay.

After a few minutes he came out and Kim sat Chay down in his lap and stared at him, the skirt was gone but he still had a bow in his hair. Chay blushed all the way to his ears.

“Um you weren’t really supposed to see that but it's okay I think? Is it okay with you? I just don't know. I saw the skirt one time and I tried it on and it just made me happy for some reason I don't know, that's not weird is it?”

“Slow down baby.” Kim chuckled, “yes it's okay.”

“It's okay,” Chay repeated with a sigh.

Kim brought his hands to his boyfriends cheeks, “Do you want to talk about it? Do you do that a lot when I'm not here?”

“Not like every time, only if I’m in the mood for it I guess. If that makes sense.” Chay said.

 “Is it like a sex thing or…..?”

Chay blushed even more, “I don't think so, though I wouldn't mind that if you wanted it to be.” He paused and frowned a little, “I don’t know why I like it so much, I don't want to actually be a girl or anything I don't think?. It's just fun for some reason. It's freeing; I feel so myself and...” he paused and looked down at the couch they were sitting on, “I like feeling pretty.”

“You looked very pretty.”

“Really?” Chay asked and Kim nodded in response, “Thank you.” He murmured into Kim's neck.

“You can wear it around the house if you want, when I’m there.” Kim played with the little bow clip in Chay’s hair, he couldn’t help but still think it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“You want me too?” Chay looked back up at his boyfriend with eyes full of wonder.

“Yeah. I could even buy you another skirt if you wanted,” he placed a kiss on Chay's fluffy hair, “or more clips.” Kim was never going to pass up an opportunity to spoil him, and he would do anything to help Chay be more Chay.

Chay cuddled as close as he could into Kim’s body, “I’m so glad you came home early.”

Kim gently held his cheeks and kissed his adorable person, “Me too, pretty baby.”

[hexarcana]

Olive whoops and laughs when Stan hits the guy and sends him sprawling.

“Serves you right, jerk!” She laughs, her expression staying bright when Stan runs to her. “I’m great! He folded likens deck of cards!” She grins up at him “I coulda, maybe.. But it was cool watching you do it.”

She leans over the crumbled man, hands on tiny hips. After a moment’s thought she winds up and kicks the guy in the shin like she’d planned.

“That’s for calling me runt, you creep!” Satisfied she goes into his office to snoop around. “Good idea, I bet she can fix it.” She hops into the guys chair and peers at the computer and its many screens. She reaches down to the floor and grabs the man’s discarded cellphone. She props her feet up on the the unconscious con’s desk as she dials a number in and waits.

“Hiya Gran. You will NOT believe the night we’ve had.”

—

Aggie took virtually no time to get there once she had the whole story, first from Olive and then from Stan because frankly she wasn’t sure if she believed the twelve year old. Upon her arrival she met them at a back entrance.

“Well you certainly look like you’ve had quite the night.” Her hands are on her hips as she eyes Stan up and down and then Olive. “Is that blood?” She asks.

“It’s not mine, honest.”

Aggie sighs, and is led up the back stairway. When they reach the top o and they have to step over the still very wounded shyster Aggie looks at Stan.

“Was caving his face in really necessary?” She asks as Olive ushers her into the office. She bristles at the sheer amount of dark energy the place seemed to give off. When she made her way to the desk and sat, she took in the monitors. She watches the indentured spirits flit about the screen. She sees what are almost certainly child ghosts in a few of the rooms.? She scowls. “Actually, I take it back. I think caving his face in was too mild of a punishment.”

She rifles through his desk, unsure of what she’s looking for until she finds it. From the bottom drawer she lifts out a book. It looks pretty ordinary, almost like one of the old business books Stan has laying around in his office. Apart from the fact that it’s glowing, and has a picture of a skull on the front along with the phrase “The Dead And Your Workplace, 1984 Edition”

“If I had a nickel for every book of the dead I found that was dolled up to look like this…” She mutters, flipping open the pages. She allows both of them to come close to watch if they so desire, which Olive does. She goes right up to the desk and tries to peer into the book but a lot of it looks like gibberish.

“You can read that?” She asks. Aggie nods and flips a couple more pages until it she lands on one with a diagram of a retro computer, just like the one sitting on the desk. She looks between it and the diagram a few times before she laughs to herself. “You didn’t really need me for this but-“. She finds the plug-in for the computer and follows it to the wall. “This oughta do it.” She tugs it free and the computer shuts down with a mechanized boop. Nothing happens right away but about gen seconds later the entire building seems to erupt with distorted shouts and hollers as well as screams from the few patrons still roaming the halls. The trio watch as multiple intangible ghostly balls of light shoot up from the floor and up through the ceiling, undoubtedly the now free spirits getting the hell out of there. Two actually stop and materialize in the room. It’s the little girl and the morgue lady, though they look more like normal people now, less bloody and horrible.

“Oh, it’s you!” Even her voice sounds normal now, not so high and sing song. “Thanks for letting us out. Sorry about throwing you in the basement!” She nods at the morgue lady who honestly just looks like your average nurse now. She addresses Olive who had involuntarily moved close to Stan, and grabbed his arm fearfully at the sight of the woman.

“Yeah. Sorry for grabbing you and trying to dissect you. I don’t know what came over me.” She laughs, “Do us a favor and destroy that book, hm?” She takes the little girl’s hand and they vanish, leaving the room still and absent of any magical doings. Even the book has stopped glowing. Aggie looks at her granddaughter, still clutching Stan’s arm.

“They’re gone, Junebug.” She explains, getting up from the chair. “Poor things, that was a pretty nasty spell that creep roped them into.” She taps the book before tucking it under her arm. “Books like these let normal everyday people use stupidly powerful magic. So irresponsible.” She clicks her tongue disapprovingly in the direction of the slumped con in the hallway who is now cowering in fear from the spirits that had just shot up around him in just about every direction. She walks over to him, leaning over his battered form. “You best get yourself to the hospital, get your ugly mug fixed, and get out of this town. And if I hear of an operation like this cropping up again, you’ll WISH it was my guy with the brass knuckles and my granddaughter wailing on you. You got that?”

Stan sits back and lets the chaos unfold. He’s about to step into the office himself to lay into the guy, when he steps out into the hallway, red in the face and bellowing. As he rounds on Olive, he seems to be so blinded by rage he doesn’t know he’s left his back exposed to Stan.

This was almost too easy.

Tapping the guy on the shoulder, he turns around. A brief glimmer of recognition of what he’s allowed himself to do and BAM.

Stan punches the guy square in the jaw with his brass knuckles. He falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes. A gold filling lies on the floor next to his mouth in a pool of blood. He’s definitely out for the count now.

Turning away from the groaning sleazeball lying on the floor, Stan rushes over to Olive, paternal urges rushing through him.

“You okay kid? You did well there y’know”- he smirks. “Honest, I think you coulda handled this guy yourself. I almost got in the way.”

He looks back to the necromancing con-man.

“No idea what we’re gonna do with you now bub…” Stan said, cold spite etched in his voice. “I’m honestly kinda tempted to just hand you back to the poor souls you resurrected to work in your crummy tourist trap.”

The amateur necromancer groaned, either due to his broken jaw, or at the prospect of being tossed to a bunch of vengful spirits.

“Think we should get your grandma involved. No clue what we’re going to do with a bunch of dead people who don’t know they’re dead yet.” Stan said to Olive.

“One thing’s for sure anyway, next year, we’re stayin’ in.”

[donna-medusa-gorgon]

Hazbin Shitpost! Animal Edition!

1. Upper left corner: Snek siblings. Yeah that what was kicked off this shit post that I put way too much effort into. I wanted to draw Donna and Lucifer as snek siblings, because they are snakes, and they are siblings, therefore snek siblings. Also Lucifer is absolutely bothering Donna by laying on her

2. Upper right corner: Would you still love me if I was a snake worm? Yes. Rosie would absolutely still love Donna if she was a worm. In fact she would rave to her about all the new worm recipes she came up specifically to cook her. You know it true love when your cannibalistic gf is willing to eat you in any form <3

3. Lower left corner: I LOVE WEIRD ASS CAT ALASTOR SO MUCH!! It is an absolute delight to see what terrible shenanigans Alastor would get up to if he was a cat. Unfortunately I am not creative enough to imagine the scenarios. Except for one thing

4. Lower right corner: Fluffy Cat Alastor. He loafs like the little gentleman he is (he has committed millions of crimes-)

[mqonlighting]

real talk in the tags for a second because i have a crush on a girl and i. a hehe. ahehehe.

will be burying this in reblogs and never touching on it again

[savi0rr]

Darling Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Reader

In which, Viktor has a sweet wife that, weirdly enough, no one really knew about.

a/n: hi divas! Erm this is my first time writing for Viktor so I'm sorry if he sounds out of character.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

"Viktor? What is that on your finger?" Jayce inquired, suddenly appearing behind Viktor and peering curiously over his shoulder. Viktor felt a knot form in his stomach as he glanced down at his hand, where a gleaming wedding band rested snugly on his finger. He cursed under his breath, realizing he had meant to remove it but had completely forgotten in the whirlwind of his work.

"Just a ring," Viktor replied evasively, casting a quick look back at Jayce while clicking his tongue in annoyance. Jayce, however, was undeterred. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, a teasing smirk forming on his lips. "Isn’t that the same finger where wedding rings typically go?" he challenged, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Don’t tell me you actually have a wife?"

Viktor maintained his silence, his heart racing in response to Jayce’s playful interrogation. "Even if I did, I wouldn't share that information with you," he said tersely, redirecting his attention back to the Hextech gemstone in front of him, his mind racing as he tried to refocus on his work.

Jayce, still leaning casually against the desk, raised his eyebrow further, the smirk on his face beginning to fade away. He studied Viktor’s expression closely, a frown of confusion.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

“Viktor has a wife? That’s just absurd,” Mel declared, waving her hand dismissively as if to brush away the very notion. 

“No, I swear! He’s actually wearing a wedding ring. When I asked him about it, he responded with, ‘Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,’” Jayce insisted, leaning closer to Mel's desk, his hands planted firmly on the surface.

Mel rolled her eyes in disbelief, leaning back in her chair and letting her hands fall into her lap. “Who on Earth would marry Viktor?” she whispered, her curiosity piqued as she leaned forward slightly, her expression a mix of intrigue and skepticism. “No offense, but…” she trailed off, momentarily glancing away, her thoughts clearly racing.

Jayce sighed, exasperated. “I mean, it’s not the best image, is it?” he muttered, shrugging as he contemplated the idea. His mind seemed to wander as he contemplated the strange pairing. “Plus, why do you even care?” Mel asked, raising an eyebrow at him, a hint of playful challenge in her voice. “Because I want to know what she looks like!” he responded with a hint of frustration, glancing off to the side, and groaning.

Mel pondered for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Even if he did have a wife, wouldn’t she be here at the Academia with him?” she pointed out, her curiosity beginning to overshadow her previous skepticism. “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Jayce exclaimed, running his fingers through his hair in agitation. “It doesn’t add up!”

With a sigh, Mel straightened up, her expression turning serious. “Look, I have much bigger problems to deal with than figuring out who Viktor is married to,” she stated firmly.

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

"When do you think he sees his wife?" Mel asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she peeked around the corner of the dimly lit hallway. The soft glow of fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting shadows on the walls of the Academia. Jayce followed her gaze, cautiously poking his head out to get a better look.

"Hmm... maybe when he isn’t buried under a mountain of work," Jayce mused, tilting his head and furrowing his brow in thought. His dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, and he swept it back with a casual motion. Mel, with an exasperated huff, rolled her eyes dramatically. 

"You should know this! You’re his partner, for crying out loud," she murmured, her tone tinged with disbelief as she crossed her arms. Jayce's expression shifted to one of sheepishness, his cheeks flushing slightly as he glanced away, avoiding her accusatory gaze.

"But I leave before him. I'm already gone by the time he usually starts his day. And when I come back to the lab, it’s always just him—working away, lost in his experiments," Jayce replied, his shoulders lifting in a shrug that conveyed both confusion and resignation. He could sense Mel's frustration, but the truth was, Viktor’s work schedule was a puzzle he had yet to solve.

Mel sighed heavily, her brow knitting together in thought. "How do you not know… never mind," she grumbled, her voice trailing off as she turned her attention back to Viktor, who was at that moment preparing to leave. 

"Shhh!" Jayce hissed urgently, his eyes widening as he quickly placed a hand over Mel's mouth, the sound echoing loudly in the stillness. They both watched in silence as Viktor slowly began to rise, gripping his crutch tightly under his arm while gathering his belongings with meticulous care. He seemed unaware of the two pairs of eyes on him, lost in his own world.

Viktor gripped his documents as he walked down the hallway, his eyes narrowed. He made his way down to the back of the Academia, opening a door. Jayce and Mel looking out the window from the other story. "The hell is he doing?" Jayce muttered under his breath. "Look," Mel said, spotting you not too far in the distance. "Is that his wife?" Jayce whispered.

"Viktor." You spoke up, smiling when you saw him. You stood up from the bench you were sitting at. Viktor eagerly wobbled over to you. "I've been waiting." You teased lightly, taking the documents from his hand and placing them down on the bench. Viktor could only stare at you. He hadn't seen you in a while. But he'd never say that he missed you. "How are you doing?" You asked gently, guiding him to sit down, placing his crutch aside. "I've been...well," Viktor said plainly. "I could be better." He muttered, glancing off to the side. You nodded, sitting beside him. You glanced down at his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You wore your wedding ring?" You asked, a small smile forming on your face. Viktor's cheeks warmed a bit, sighing. "I meant to take it off." He grumbled as his fingers ran over the wedding band. "I'm glad you wore it. It suits you." You giggled lightly, placing your hand over his.

Meanwhile, with Jayce and Mel, they could only stare in shock. "Of course, he has a pretty wife too!" Jayce groaned as he shook his head. "Of course," Mel muttered as she sweat drops. "Who knew she was so darling?"

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

[jungwnies]

scaring your f1 boyfriend | requested

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri ୨ৎ : synopsis : jump-scaring your boyfriend LOL

୨ৎ : genre : humor ୨ৎ : tws : teasing, yelling, fluff, lots of jumpscares, mentions of scary themes ୨ৎ : word count : 3840

୨ masterlist ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : the max photo above is literally killing me i cant 😭

ʚ・max verstappen

max had just stepped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the stress of the day. the bathroom was dimly lit, a soft glow from the streetlight outside filtering through the small frosted window. you, meanwhile, had been sitting on the couch, bored out of your mind, until the perfect idea struck you.

with the stealth of a spy, you crept to the bathroom and flipped the light switch off. the room was immediately plunged into shadow, save for the faint moonlight that spilled through the window. you silently positioned yourself in front of the shower curtain, your heart racing with anticipation.

inside, max paused. "y/n? did the power go out?"

you stayed silent, fighting the urge to laugh.

"y/n?" his voice was louder this time, tinged with confusion. "hello?"

still, you said nothing.

there was a beat of silence, then the water stopped. you heard him shuffling around, probably grabbing a towel.

"did you forget to pay the electric bill or something?" he asked, his dry humor cutting through the quiet. "seriously, what’s going on? you can at least answer me, you know."

you didn’t move a muscle, standing perfectly still, a shadow among shadows.

"y/n, if you’re trying to mess with me, it’s not funny," he said, his voice closer now.

the shower curtain shifted slightly, and then it flew open. for a second, max didn’t register what he was seeing—the faint outline of a figure standing inches away from him, completely silent and unmoving.

"WHAT THE F—" he jumped back, nearly slipping on the wet tiles as he grabbed onto the shower rod for support.

"y/n!" he barked, his voice cracking slightly. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, clutching your stomach as he stood there, towel in hand, glaring at you with wide eyes.

"oh my god," he muttered, his hand still on his chest as he tried to catch his breath. "i actually thought i was about to get murdered in my own shower. do you know how ridiculous that is?"

"you should’ve seen your face!" you gasped, tears streaming down your cheeks.

he stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. "you’re lucky i didn’t slip and die. imagine explaining that to everyone." his lips twitched, betraying the smallest hint of a smile.

"totally worth it," you managed between giggles.

he groaned, wrapping the towel around himself. "you’re insane, you know that?" he muttered as he walked past you.

"and you’re so easy to scare," you shot back, grinning.

as he left the bathroom, he called over his shoulder, "enjoy your victory, y/n. because next time, i’m getting you."

ʚ・lewis hamilton

lewis had just wrapped up an exhausting day—a full schedule of training, meetings, and, of course, dodging paparazzi. as he entered the dimly lit bedroom, he was humming lightly to himself, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos you were orchestrating under the bed. you were lying in wait, suppressing giggles as you positioned yourself for the ultimate ankle grab.

he moved around the room with his usual grace, taking his time as he set his phone down on the nightstand and slipped off his jacket. "man, what a day," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his braids. oblivious to the brewing chaos below him, he leaned down to untie his sneakers. you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing—you were so close.

finally, he stood, stretching his arms with a relaxed sigh, and took a casual step toward the bed. now or never, you thought, and as soon as his foot came within reach, you shot your hand out and grabbed his ankle.

"OH SH—!" lewis screamed, leaping so high he looked like he was auditioning for a horror movie. he scrambled backward, nearly tripping over himself as his eyes darted around the room, wide with panic.

"NOPE. NO. NOT TODAY," he shouted, grabbing a pillow off the bed like it was a weapon. "WHO—WHAT IS THAT?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. rolling out from under the bed, you were already crying with laughter, clutching your stomach as you gasped for air.

"y/n?!" he blinked, realization dawning as his terror morphed into sheer disbelief. "nah, nah, nah. are you serious right now?! you’re the demon under the bed?!"

"your face! your scream!" you choked out between fits of laughter. "i didn’t know you had that kind of altitude! do they measure verticals in f1?"

he stood there, hands on his hips, still holding the pillow like a shield. "first of all, don’t test me. i thought i was about to get dragged to hell. second of all, i will sue you for emotional damages."

"oh, come on," you teased, finally sitting up. "you’re a seven-time world champion, but a little ankle grab gets you?"

"don’t even start," he said, his voice shaking with residual laughter as he tried to regain his composure. "i thought i was about to throw hands with a ghost or something!"

"worth it," you grinned, dodging the pillow he threw at you as he finally shook his head, laughing.

ʚ・george russell

it was 3am, and george woke up to what he thought was the faint sound of your voice calling his name. groggy and slightly disoriented, he sat up in bed, glancing over—only to find your side empty.

“y/n?” he called softly, but there was no response.

with a sigh, he swung his legs over the bed and got up, rubbing the back of his neck. the house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every little sound feel amplified.

he stepped out into the dark hallway, the faint moonlight from a nearby window barely illuminating the path ahead. “y/n?” he called again, his voice a bit louder this time.

then he saw them.

at the far end of the hallway stood two small figures wrapped in identical blankets, their faces barely visible in the dim light. they were completely still, their heads slightly tilted to the side in perfect synchronization.

george froze, his breath catching in his throat. “what... the hell?”

he squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. his heart started to pound as one of them took a tiny, almost imperceptible step forward.

“y/n, if this is some kind of joke, it’s not funny,” he said, his voice betraying the fact that he was definitely spooked.

then, in perfect unison, your twin cousins whispered, “come play with us...”

that was it. george practically stumbled backward, his hand slamming into the wall for support. “oh, NO. absolutely NOT.”

he turned on his heel and bolted back toward the bedroom, muttering under his breath, “nope, nope, nope. i didn’t sign up for this. i date you, not some stephen king horror scene.”

you, of course, were hiding just out of sight, trying your hardest not to laugh as you watched the whole thing unfold.

george made it back to the bedroom, his nerves still shot. he sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair and muttering, “this is why i don’t watch horror movies…”

just as he started to relax, he looked up—and there you were, standing completely still in the doorway, wrapped in your own blanket, your face partially obscured by the shadows.

"oh, for—NOPE!" he yelped, scrambling backward on the bed like a man who had just seen his worst nightmare materialize. "y/n, what the actual—how are you everywhere right now?!"

you couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing, flipping on the lights as tears streamed down your face. “oh my god, george, you’re too easy!”

his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, and that’s when he noticed your cousins peeking into the room behind you, still eerily in sync, still in their matching blankets.

he groaned, rubbing his temples. “y/n, it’s three in the morning. i genuinely thought i was about to get haunted by some creepy twins.”

“but you weren’t,” you teased. “just my cousins. aren’t they great actors?”

the twins gave him a little wave, their innocent smiles betraying none of the chaos they’d just caused. george blinked, staring at them, then at you. “your cousins?! so, you planned all of this?”

“yep,” you said proudly, walking over to sit beside him. “they nailed it, didn’t they?”

“nailed it?” george repeated, still clutching his chest. “y/n, i thought i was about to die. do you have any idea what it’s like to wake up at 3am and see that at the end of a hallway?”

you couldn’t stop laughing as he continued his rant. “honestly, you’re lucky i didn’t faint. or worse—trip and break something.”

“but you didn’t,” you teased, nudging him.

he sighed dramatically, finally flopping back onto the bed. “if this is the kind of chaos i’m signing up for with you, i’m going to need to start sleeping with a nightlight.”

you grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “you love it.”

he groaned but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “remind me to check for tiny people in blankets before leaving bed at 3am from now on.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

it was one of those mornings where carlos was running a little behind, juggling work and trying to get out the door as quickly as possible. he hopped into his car, mind already on the busy day ahead. he tossed his jacket onto the passenger seat, started the engine, and zoomed off toward the office, not noticing that you were quietly hiding in the backseat.

you’d sneaked into the car earlier when he was distracted, hiding behind the seats and waiting for the perfect moment to scare him.

as carlos drove through the city, his thoughts were consumed with meetings, deadlines, and that one email he needed to send. he hummed along to the radio, completely oblivious to the fact that you were crouched behind him, practically holding your breath.

when he finally pulled into the parking lot at his office, he parked the car and got out, walking around to the back to grab his jacket. you could feel the excitement building up. now, it was showtime.

as soon as carlos opened the back door and turned his back to grab his jacket, you slowly sat up and leaned forward. you had just the right angle to pop your head into his line of sight.

“you forgot something,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

carlos froze. his eyes widened, his whole body went stiff, and before he could even process what was going on, he screamed, his voice high-pitched and panicked.

"¡ME CAGO EN LA P...!" he shouted, his heart racing as his body jerked back. "¡QUÉ COÑO ES ESO?" ("I shit myself!" "What the hell is that?!)

his hands shot up as if he was ready to defend himself, but he just stood there in complete shock, looking at you in the back seat.

after a few seconds of complete silence, he finally found his voice. "y/n, WHAT THE HELL?!"

you were barely holding back your laughter, completely enjoying the chaos you’d caused. “i got you good, huh?”

"cabron!" he cursed, still catching his breath as he tried to steady himself. (jerk!) “why the hell would you do that?!”

you stepped out of the car, still laughing. “i couldn’t resist!”

“seriously, you scared the life out of me,” he said, shaking his head and trying to calm down. he took a deep breath, his voice finally switching back to english. “you know, one of these days, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love it,” you teased with a grin.

“yeah, well,” he muttered, rubbing his chest where his heart was still pounding. “next time, you better believe i’m checking the back seat before i even get in the car.”

“oh, i’m counting on it,” you said, still smiling from ear to ear.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles was live on twitch, fully engrossed in a high-stakes sim racing session. he had his headphones on, occasionally glancing at the chat to answer questions or laugh at their antics. what he didn’t know was that you, his girlfriend, were plotting a masterpiece of chaos behind the scenes.

armed with some impressively dark body paint, you transformed yourself into a shadowy figure, blending almost perfectly into the darkness behind his gaming chair. the setup was perfect—his room was dimly lit, with just the glow of his monitors keeping things visible. you slipped quietly into position behind him, crouched low, and waited.

his chat was quick to notice something off.

chat: "charles there’s someone behind you 😳" "bro wtf is that in the back" "TURN AROUND CHARLES."

but charles just chuckled. "guys, stop trying to scare me. i know y/n isn’t here, she’s downstairs."

you bit your lip to suppress a laugh as the chat erupted with frantic messages. then, it was time to strike. you let out a low, guttural growl, something straight out of a horror movie.

charles froze mid-turn. "uh—what was that?" he muttered, glancing around nervously.

"it’s probably the wind," he said, but his voice wavered.

he finally spun around in his chair, squinting into the shadows. at first, he didn’t see anything—just darkness. but then, he grabbed his phone and turned on the flashlight.

"chat, you’re being ridiculous, there’s no one here—"

and that’s when he saw you.

painted in a deep, almost pitch-black shade, you stared back at him with wide, unblinking eyes. the flashlight beam caught your eerie silhouette, and he let out the most high-pitched scream you’d ever heard.

"MON DIEU!" he shouted, nearly falling out of his chair as his chat went wild with laughter and messages like "💀💀💀" and "i can’t breathe."

you burst out laughing, standing up to reveal the full extent of your paint job. "surprise!"

"y/n, WHAT IS THIS?" he exclaimed, clutching his chest. "i thought you were a ghost! or a demon!"

his chat was absolutely losing it.

"she’s a menace omg." "y/n deserves an oscar for this." "never trusting the dark again."

charles glared at you, though his lips twitched in amusement. "you are unbelievable. i will get you back for this, i promise."

"worth it," you said with a grin, blowing him a kiss.

the clip went viral, and for weeks, his fans teased him about his "ghost girlfriend." meanwhile, you were already planning your next prank.

ʚ・lando norris

lando was sprawled on the couch, his attention fully on the game in front of him. his fingers moved rapidly over the controller, the sound of the game providing a steady backdrop to his intense focus. you had been waiting for the perfect opportunity, and now was your chance.

earlier, you had picked up a realistic fake cockroach, the kind that would easily fool anyone into thinking it was real. with it in hand, you silently crept toward lando as he was deeply engrossed in his game, completely unaware of the chaos about to unfold.

you waited until he leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, and then you placed the cockroach right on his lap. you quickly backed away, staying just out of sight, holding your breath, waiting for his reaction.

it didn’t take long.

lando, completely unaware at first, shifted in his seat, and then his eyes widened when he glanced down and saw the cockroach. for a moment, he froze, his brain taking a second to process what was happening. and then, in true lando fashion, his reaction was absolutely priceless.

“what the hell?!” he yelped, jumping off the couch like he’d just been electrocuted. the controller flew from his hands, landing with a loud clunk on the floor. he stepped back, looking down at his lap like the cockroach was some kind of ticking time bomb.

“oh my god!” he shouted, his voice higher than usual as he stumbled backward, his eyes scanning the floor. “y/n!! what the actual hell?!”

you were already standing by the door, biting your lip, trying to keep from bursting out laughing at his reaction.

“i—uh, i just thought you might want to meet a new friend,” you said, grinning as you stepped into the room.

lando’s face had gone from absolute panic to an exaggerated glare. “no! that was not funny. you’re a menace!” he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but his heart was still racing. “i thought i was about to die. i can’t believe you did that to me.”

you were laughing at this point, absolutely loving how freaked out he was. “you’re so dramatic,” you teased, holding up the fake cockroach. “it’s just a toy, lando.”

he stared at you like you were insane. “you know i’m terrified of bugs, and you still thought this was a good idea?” he rubbed his face in exasperation, though there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. “i swear, i’m going to get you back for this.”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, still grinning. “you’re so lucky i didn’t make it real.”

lando shot you a side-eye. “next time, i’m locking the door. and you’re not getting anywhere near me with anything that crawls.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you had been eyeing that haunted doll on ebay for weeks. the description was too good to pass up: “genuine haunted doll, spiritual energy present, handle with care.” it was perfect for a prank, and you knew oscar would hate it. he was already freaked out by anything remotely supernatural, so you were just dying to get your hands on this doll. when it finally arrived in the mail, you couldn’t wait to start your little game.

of course, oscar had warned you that buying a haunted doll was a terrible idea. “don’t you dare bring that thing into our house,” he had said, his face scrunched in worry. “it’s bad enough that you already watch ghost shows. why do you need an actual haunted doll?”

you grinned mischievously, already planning your moves. “it’ll be fine, oscar. i’m sure it’s just a bunch of fake stories.”

he didn’t look convinced, but as usual, you went ahead with your plan. the night after the doll arrived, you decided it was time to mess with him. you placed the doll in the living room chair, its beady little eyes staring blankly ahead. in the dead of night, you casually walked past, dropping it on the floor, facing a different direction.

by the time oscar woke up the next morning, he was already uneasy. he noticed the doll on the floor in the living room, but he shrugged it off—until it happened again.

the next night, you quietly slipped the doll onto the bed, positioning it so that its lifeless gaze met his when he opened his eyes in the morning. as expected, he jumped back when he saw it, groaning loudly, "y/n, come on! this isn't funny anymore!"

"i swear, oscar, i don’t know how it got there," you said, acting all innocent, trying not to burst out laughing. "maybe you moved it?"

he glared at you. "no, i didn’t. i know you’re messing with me."

but it wasn’t over. you kept sneaking the doll into different spots: the bathroom counter, the kitchen table, the shower. he would get startled each time, becoming more and more agitated. you kept up the act, pretending to be clueless, like the doll was really just showing up on its own.

that night, though, something strange happened.

as you were lying in bed, just drifting off to sleep, you heard something faint. a soft scraping sound. it was so quiet, you thought it was just your imagination. but then, you heard it again—a slight, dragging noise, coming from the living room.

oscar shifted beside you, his eyes wide. "did you hear that?" he whispered.

you stayed still, listening, trying to figure out if it was just the house settling. but then it happened again, louder this time. a small creak of wood. it sounded like… steps.

oscar was now wide awake, heart racing. “please tell me that’s not the doll.” he whispered, voice shaking.

you swallowed hard, your earlier bravado fading. “it couldn’t be.”

both of you slowly got up, creeping into the living room. as you approached, the doll was sitting in the chair again—but its head was turned toward the door. the same direction you and oscar had just come from. you froze, your stomach dropping.

oscar's voice was barely a whisper. “nope. i’m done. this is actually haunted.”

you could barely breathe as you stepped closer, but something felt off. something wasn’t right.

and then, in an instant, the doll’s head jerked to the side. a loud creak echoed through the room as it turned to face both of you fully.

oscar went pale, his voice cracking. “y/n… i think your little prank backfired.”

before you could react, oscar practically bolted for the door, yelling, "i’m not sleeping here tonight! i’ll take my chances with the cold!"

you stood there, dumbfounded, looking between him and the doll. your heart raced as you realized you had been pranking yourself just as much as him.

“uh, yeah,” you muttered to yourself, stepping backward. “maybe we should call it quits on this haunted doll thing.”

but oscar didn’t even hear you. he was already out the door and halfway down the hallway. all you could do was look at the doll, now facing the front door with a strangely satisfied expression.

“looks like you got me back,” you sighed, glancing at the doll’s unblinking eyes.

and for the first time since buying it, you had second thoughts about having it around at all.

you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the dread creeping up your spine. oscar’s panicked face flashed in your mind, and you realized you’d gone way too far.

you looked at the doll, still in the chair, and muttered to yourself, “i think i’m calling someone tomorrow.”

oscar, hearing your voice behind him, turned back toward you from the hallway. “what?”

“i’m calling someone who deals with these haunted… things,” you said, crossing your arms and trying to look confident despite the unease settling in your chest. “someone who knows how to get rid of it without… angering it, or whatever.”

oscar stared at you for a moment before his eyes widened. “you’re seriously going to call someone? now?”

“i don’t think this is a joke anymore, oscar,” you replied, glancing back at the doll. “i’m getting rid of it tomorrow. trust me. i’ll handle it.”

oscar didn’t look convinced, but his relief was palpable. “good,” he muttered. “i’m sleeping at a hotel tonight.”

you watched him disappear down the hall, before turning back to the doll. “guess we’ve both learned our lesson, huh?” you said quietly, the weight of the situation finally hitting you.

tomorrow, you’d be dealing with the haunted doll… but for tonight, you figured it was better to stay far, far away.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[no-144444]

Mark my words.- o.piastri

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summary: mark slips up about your marriage.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! rb!mechanic! wife! reader

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He crossed the finish line, and you couldn’t help the smile on your face. Sure, Checo had crashed in the last lap and Max had gotten p6. Not a good result, but then again, that’s what you had told Christian would happen if he didn’t let you build the car. 

You were Adrian’s protege. You were the next Newey. Christian was just too focused on the past. 

“Fuck!” he groaned, slamming his headset on the desk. 

“I told you so,” you sighed, leaving him at the desk and running to the parc fermé. Oscar would be coming through in mere minutes, and you wanted to be there to see him. Secretly dating another team’s driver wasn’t easy, but you two made it work. You were both lowkey about things, even though you’d been married for about a year now. You stood beside Nicole, far away from your own team, but you didn’t really care. You wanted to see the light in his eyes when he came up to his mum and you. 

Nicole wrapped her arms around you, cheering as you both relived the moment that Oscar had won. Oscar Piastri, 2 time Gran Prix winner. He’d proven himself time and time again, he wasn’t a second driver, and McLaren now had a difficult choice to make. 

But all that was for another day. Today was about Oscar. 

He ran over to the team, finally spotting his mum and you beside her. You could see from his eyes that he was smiling. She pulled him into a tight hug. 

“You did it!” she cheered, holding him close. “I’m so proud of you.”

He pulled off his helmet, smiling at her. “Thanks mum, love you loads,” he smiled, then turned his attention to you. “Not bad, eh?”

You smirked. “Not bad Piastri.”

“Not bad for you either, Piastri,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Go get weighed idiot, I’ll catch you in the airport, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t miss you for the world,” he winked, then walked off to continue the celebrations. 

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You woke up the next morning, sore, with Oscar beside you. You groaned as you turned over, shutting off his alarm. “Osc,” you yawned. 

“Shush,” he whispered. “Five more minutes.”

“Oscar, we need to get up,” you reminded him, but he just tightened his grip on your waist. “Come on Osc, I need a shower.”

He smirked and you rolled your eyes, not missing his innuendo. “I could-”

“We did enough of that last night, give me time to recover,” you laughed. “Worth a shot,” he smiled. “Alright, I’ll start on some breakfast.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a sweet greeting (also short because his breath stinks in the morning) and you went your separate ways. This weekend was Singapore, and you knew how tough it was on every driver, engineer, and mechanic. Singapore was always the race you dreaded. It was unpredictable and hot. Way too hot. 

You came out of the shower to see Oscar pacing the kitchen, on the phone with a very stressed Mark. “No I understand that, but I thought they wouldn’t hear us… I-I didn’t mean to-“

“Oscar, it’s too late mate. You’d better just come out with it, or get your mum to, or something. People are getting really confused and they think Y/n is your sister or something,” Mark sighed

You burst out laughing, making Oscar laugh. 

“They think we’re siblings?” you laughed. “What the fuck?”

“You did call her ‘Piastri’ to be fair mate,” Mark chuckled.

“Well that is her second name!” he defended.

“Osc, just post our wedding photos or something,” you shrugged. “Or we could just let people speculate.”

“Sorry baby, but I don’t really love the idea of people thinking you’re one of my sisters,” he mocked, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. 

You shrugged, grabbing a piece of toast he'd made you. “I don’t care, I’m just an insignificant engineer from RedBull.”

He rolled his eyes, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re so helpful,” he responded sarcastically.

“Using sarcasm as a defence mechanism because you don’t want to admit you’re the breadwinner of the family? How humble and noble of you,” you laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek and squeezing his ass, making him jump. 

“I hate it when you do that,” he scoffed, batting your hand away. You knew he loved it. 

“Anyways, what’s our action plan lads?” Mark asked. 

“Up to you,” you shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“Will I post on twitter and act like it’s been common knowledge?” He suggested.

“Mate, no one would believe that. You’re known for keeping things secret and being nonchalant, just do that,” Mark laughed. 

“Sounds good to me,” you nodded. “Thanks Mark.”

“See you in Singapore,” he sighed and you grained as Oscar hung up the phone. 

“Fucking Singapore,” you groaned. 

“I know,” he nodded in agreement. “Hopefully this year I won’t be as ill.”

“Let’s fucking hope so,” you smoothed down his hair. “You need to start brushing your hair baby. It’s so awful in the mornings.”

His lips became a line and he nodded. “Humbling me isn’t always necessary,” he breathed out and wrapped his arms around you, grabbing your ass as he pressed kisses on your face and neck. “But it is appreciated,” he finished sarcastically, as you pushed him off giggling. 

“You’d appreciate it more if you took the advice,” you muttered, taking a bite of your toast. 

He shook his head, chuckling. “How’d I get so lucky?” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

You shrugged. “By using the dark arts?” you teased and he just laughed. 

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You walked into the Singapore paddock with Lando, deep in conversation about his upcoming birthday party. You usually weren’t photographed all that often in the paddock, and when you were, it’s usually because you were beside a driver or someone more important, mostly because you were known to ruin photos. Holding up your middle finger, threatening to flash the camera, etc, it’s what has made you a Gen Z favourite. You also refused to go up on the podium, no matter how many times Max asked. You were pretty low-key about everything, it worked well. 

“So I was definitely thinking a DJ, but what about the dress code? Should it be casual? Business casual? Black tie?” he questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Club attire Lando, it’s being held at a club, let people dress like they’re going to a club.”

He nodded, as if he’d never thought of that. “You’re a genius!”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you sighed as he walked off to the McLaren motorhome. 

You walked off to the RedBull motorhome, noticing more cameras on you than normal. Most people just left you alone, it wasn’t often that the camera followed you (mostly because of your aforementioned behaviour), but tonight they wouldn’t let up. 

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Even as you sat in the pitlane, chatting to Daniel, you were still being recorded. 

“Do you know what this whole thing is about?” you asked Daniel and he looked at you like you were crazy. 

“Have you not seen what Mark posted?” he asked, his eyes wide. 

“What the fuck did he post?” you asked, rushing to get your phone out. 

And there it was. Mark had announced it for you. 

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aussiegrit

tagged: oscarpiastri , reallyy/n

Liked by pierregasly, oscarpiastri, maxverstappen and 872,928 others

aussiegrit: These two crazy kids were too busy being in love (and winning races) to tell you guys that they’re married! Love you two xxx

comments

alexalbon: oh oscar’s going to go mad.

landonorris: marks time of death: now.

oscarpiastri: I WANTED TO POST FIRST

oscarpiastri: THIS SHIT IS UNFAIR. FUCK YOU MARK -> reallyy/n: someone will be sent to the stewards if you don't stop with the language...

pierregasly: it still freaks me out that they're MARRIED and 22 and 23. like wtf. -> kikagomez: 👀 -> pierregasly: ... -> user82: SHE CLOCKED YOU I FEAR

user93: I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS (no i'm not.)

user22: THIS IS SO ADORABLE WTF

sebvettel: good memories! officiating was such a blast! -> user883: SEB OFFICIATED? -> user21: it makes sense, y/n has been super close with the schumachers and seb since she was a kid because of her dads job as a mechanic in f1. he worked for ferrari from the 1980s to around 2015. -> user02: LORE DROP?????

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“That dickhead!” you cursed. “I’m going to go find Osc, I’ll be right back.”

He nodded and sent you on your way. You had to tell Oscar, he definitely didn’t know yet, right? He was going to lose it at Mark, he wanted to be the one to post, he wan-

And you walked into someone. Someone wearing papaya. Oscar wearing papaya. Oscar. 

“Did you see?!” “Did you see?!”

You both chuckled, then remembered the situation. 

“I’ll kill him for you if you want?” you offered and he just smiled. 

“It had to come out somehow,” he shrugged. “Though, those aren’t the pictures I’d pick.” 

“We all know what pictures you’d pick,” Lando interjected, winking at you. Oscar elbowed him. “I meant your wedding pictures!” “Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “Anyway, we can call him later and kill him together. Sounds good?” 

He nodded, wrapping a hand around your waist, the other landing on your ass. “Sounds great.” 

He quickly pressed his lips to yours, feeling all of the cameras on him, but still not caring. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” you smiled before walking away, back to your conversation with Daniel. 

Mark was going to get murdered, that was just a fact. Mark your words.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[sanemistar]

DANGEROUS MAN

contents ★ clan leader!gojo x fem!reader, enemies to lovers, fluff, suggestive (17+), making out, slight mention of biting/marking, reader gets called princess, 1.6k+ wc. ﾉ requested for my milestone event.

event m.list ★ jjk m.list

your parents had warned you several times about satoru gojo, the leader of the gojo clan. one of the strongest clans to exist, along with your own clan. they had forbidden you from speaking him, let alone being in the same room as him. due to the long history and the rivalry between your clan and the gojos, your clans had considered each other enemies for as long as one could remember. you had been familiar with their warnings like the back of your hand, and you had abided by them for so long. though you personally had no ill intentions towards him, nor even understood the hatred against the gojos.

that was, until you had met him in person at one of those boring higher up gatherings that you were forced to attend when you two coincidently went outside to get a breath of fresh air, away from all the tension and awkwardness inside.

the first thought that had come across your mind when you first saw satoru was that he was charming, like one of those charming princes you read about in fairy tales. you’d seen him in pictures before, but never this close. truth be told, pictures could’ve never fully captured how ethereal he looked in real life. you’d never seen anyone like him before, and you probably never would. he was simply out of this world, like a work of art—a one in a million man. enchanted by his beauty, you couldn’t help but stare at him in admiration. your eyes never dared to look away from him, as if they were glued onto him.

“well well. if it isn’t you, the princess from that clan.” satoru’s voice pierced through your ears, waking you up from your dazed state. “you’ve been staring at me for so long, like i’m a statue in a museum or something.” you were unaware of how long you’d been staring at satoru until you saw the confusion on his face as he pointed out. you felt your face redden in embarrassment and you immediately looked down in an attempt to hide your flushed face.

“s-sorry about that, gojo-san. i didn’t mean to do that, i just…” you trailed off mid sentence, unsure of what to say in order to justify your actions earlier. your head was in and your thoughts were all over the place.

you heard a pair of footsteps coming closer to you and before you was none other than satoru. the one man you shouldn’t be standing so close to. your mind was telling you to run away and leave, but your body refused to move an inch. his thumb quickly glazed over your chin, swiftly lifting it up and your eyes got caught in his alluring gaze like a mouse in a cheese trap that was unable to escape before he let go of your chin. you could swear that the spot where he touched you earlier was tingling, as if his touch was electric.

“oh c’mon, no need for these formalities. they mean nothing to me. my name is satoru, so just call me satoru.” he spoke and you were slightly taken aback, you two had just met and he already wanted you to act on a first name basis.

“but..” he cut you mid sentence.

“no buts, it’s pretty easy. just repeat after me, satoru.” he said his name again slowly, waiting for you to say it back. he was pretty insistent on it so it looked like you had no choice.

“satoru.” his name finally rolled off your tongue, and a proud smirk made its way onto his face upon hearing you say his name. the way it came off your lips got him a little excited.

just then an idea popped up in satoru’s head, a reckless one at that.

“why don’t we go somewhere else where it’s just us two? away from all this.” he grabbed your hand gently yet firmly, like he had no intention of leaving you alone.

you knew best that it was never good ignoring what your parents had told you and involving yourself with him. but at that moment, you agreed to go with him. completely forgetting about everything, the rivalry, the hatred, everything. you weren’t sure if that was a rebellion phase or what, all you knew was that it felt right leaving with him.

satoru seemed surprised for a moment by how quickly you agreed to follow him, but grinned and took your hand before dragging the two of you away as you disappeared from the main entrance and into a quieter place where it was just you and him.

you had no idea how you ended up being pinned against the wall with satoru’s tall, lean figure hovering over you. completely blocking your view and blocking you from sight.

“why did you follow me so easily, hm? what if i had a malicious intention of some sort. didn’t your parents warn you about how dangerous the gojos were? especially their leader.” your chest moved up and down as your heart began racing rapidly.

“if you had any malicious intentions like you said, you would’ve taken me somewhere outside the territory. but since we didn’t really go that far away, it’d be useless for you to be doing anything dangerous here.” you began explaining. and satoru seemed so impressed by your smart response.

“you’re indeed very amusing.” he chuckled softly. he rested his hands on the wall, forcing you to look at nothing else around but him.

tension between the two of you began rising, and you found yourself subconsciously looking at his lips.

and satoru was so quick to notice how you were eyeing his lips for a while now.

“you could’ve simply asked me for a kiss if you want it so badly instead of just staring at my lips, princess.” he leaned in as he whispered into your ear and you could feel it heat up a bit in embarrassment.

and before you could get the chance to say anything you felt satoru’s lips smacking onto yours. you gasped into the kiss in surprise, your mind screamed at you to break away and push him off of you. but this time not only your body, but also your heart, refused to. you wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in the mood as you pulled him even closer to you. your fingers ran through the back of his soft hair.

meanwhile, satoru’s hands delicately trailed all over your back, slowly exploring every part and every bit of your skin. he was taking his sweet time touching you all while having your lips against his own, tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

as the two of you further got in the mood, your kisses had become sloppier and hungrier. teeth clashing against each other as tongues swirled around one another in sync. what started off as a soft, gentle kiss had become a series of deep, passionate kisses that held so much lust and desire in them.

you felt so good that you could almost see stars.

“mhmm..” careful not to make any loud noises in order to avoid getting caught by anyone, you hummed against his lips. and you never knew you had the ability to hum like that ever so sweetly.

you couldn’t believe that you were doing such things with the one man you were never supposed to be doing all of that with.

satoru gojo was indeed dangerous, he was too dangerous for your heart.

the two of you had been making out for almost ten minutes straight. if it wasn’t for your desperate need for air to breathe, you wouldn’t have broken away. but due to the lack of oxygen, you had to break away from the kiss and catch your breath. eyes were only half open, your head was still light and dizzy after that makeout session as you were heavily panting, your lips which were now swollen were still slightly parted as a small trail of drool trickled down your chin.

“you look so beautiful right now, i think i’m in love.” satoru glazed his thumb over the corner of your lips, wiping the drool off. he leaned in once more and began nibbling on the crook of your slender neck and you winced a little as you felt him biting a bit too hard which would have probably left a mark that you would have to hide.

“maybe we should leave all this behind and run away together. it’s a great idea, don’t you think?” he suggested as he looked up at you, his blue eyes glowed slightly in the dark.

you suddenly came back to your senses upon hearing the words he said and slightly pushed him off of you.

“satoru we..” you began speaking, trying to form a coherent sentence. “we can’t do that. we’re supposed to be enemies, remember?” it was more of a reminder to yourself than it was to him that you and satoru would never be anything more than enemies.

“but enemies don’t kiss each other like that.” he whispered as he continued kissing your neck and up to your cheeks, then your nose, then back to your lips. he gave you quick, light pecks before pulling away.

“guess i’ll have to talk to those annoying higher ups of ours and end that nonsense rivalry, cause no way i’m gonna let you be with anyone else that’s not me.”

and the next thing you knew, you were being dragged by satoru into the main hall where all the higher ups were as both of you made a dramatic entrance when he announced that he’d be marrying you before kissing you in front of all of them. leaving everyone in the room, you included, in great shock.

satoru gojo was a dangerous, very dangerous man.

𝜗𝜚 taglist: @unriding @lxnarphase @sylusdoll @itachiiwrites @itoshivy @17020 @creamflix @luv-lies

[doll-face222]

Had this idea about Rafe’s best friend! Reader who hasn’t been with anyone in like a year and is getting really worked up. Maybe she had a terrible week and there was a last straw and she’s yelling and yanking on her hair and throwing things and Rafe is kind of realizing she just needs to be totally dominated and taken care of so he does

rafe x bsf!reader

a/n: i totally love that idea anon !! first time writing ever i just didnt want to let sweet nonnie down, so apologies if its not that good !

cw: smut, swearing, drool.

rafe knew you haven’t had a hookup in ages. you would vaguely mention it, when it would be just the two of you in either one’s rooms. if he was being honest, he pitied you. he even wanted to be the one to help you…

you were pissed off the whole week. maybe it was your hormones, with the way you would get annoyed at everything.

whether it be traffic making you late to events, or people at the country club being rude, steam was coming out of your ears.

you were like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode anytime now. good thing your bestfriend kept you grounded whenever you were feeling overstimulated.

so there you were, in your room getting ready for dinner with your family and the camerons. rafe on your bed scrolling on his phone, patiently waiting for you.

you were quiet while doing your makeup on your vanity table, not your usual chatty self. normally you would go on and on about anything and everything under the sun, yapping for hours on end.

rafe knew something was up.

“something wrong bunny?” he asked, using the nickname he gave you referring to the time you dressed up as a bunny for halloween when you two were little.

“no,” you replied with a pout, voice barely above a whisper.

rafe knew better than to push you, so he just sighed and kept quiet.

a few moments have passed, and rafe hears a soft ‘oh fuck’, a thud, and heavy breathing from your vanity. he looks up from his phone and sees your head down, soft sobs coming from the table.

when he got up to come closer, you shot up. screaming, crying, wailing even. rafe could see your problem now: you smudged your mascara. you started yanking out your hair curlers, figuring they were useless if your makeup was ruined anyway.

“woah woah- hey bun!” he yelled, pulling you by your waist. he placed you on your bed, rubbing up and down your arms to soothe you.

rafe guided you gently so you were laying your head on your pillows. he was in between your legs, arms caging your frame.

“shh calm down baby,” he whispered, wiping your mascara stained eyes with his thumbs.

he petted your hair, large hands slowly making their way to your cheeks.

“i’m here, i’m here.” he cooed as your cries hushed, turning into soft hiccups.

in this position he could feel you wet through your bloomers. he looked at your eyes as if to ask for permission silently, before he cupped your mound through the frilly fabric.

“what d’you need bunny?”

“need you rafey,” you whined. he carefully pulled down your bloomers, a string of slick connecting your pussy to the fabric.

rafe grew hard at the sight, taking his thumb to run across your slit. his other thumb trailing to play with your nipples through your top.

you mewl at the simultaneous sensations, given you haven’t experienced them in a long while. he took that as a sign to circle your clit, causing your eyes to shut and your legs to close, only to be blocked by rafe’s broad figure.

he then plunged two fingers in and out of you, thick digits stretching your tight hole. rafe’s hand that was previously playing with your tits find their way to your mouth, muffling your lewd moans.

“let’s be quiet bunny. your parents might be downstairs” he shushed, deep voice making your pussy clamp down on his fingers.

fingers curling up to hit your sweet spot, rafe could feel you getting close.

“you can cum baby, go ‘head,” he signals, feeling you gush all over his hand. eyes rolling to the back of your head, you felt euphoria rush through you.

as you rode out your high, rafe removes his hand from your mouth, drool dripping from your mouth and his hand.

“sorry,” you squeaked. he didn’t mind anyway, just happy you probably had your first orgasm not from your own fingers in months.

it never occured to you that this was an option, to be touched by your own bestfriend. this wouldn’t be the last time it happens, you could tell.

“thank you rafey.” you smiled weakly at him, looking through your lashes. he didn’t say anything, just kissed your forehead.

“are we late to dinner?” you asked, suddenly remembering why you were getting ready.

“i drive fast, we’ll make it,” he smirks, grabbing your small hand to cup the bulge through his pants.

dinner could wait.

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated !! love, scarlet.

[wonryllis]

WHEN THEY GET CAUGHT KISSING YOU.

﹙ ⌕ ﹚ 𝓅𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝗌 ㅤ𝑜𝑓. enhypen kissing their situationship and boom! caught. contains fem!r, kissing & kissing, embarrassed & bold enha, suggestive pg 16. wc 3090 ㅠㅠ, 420 something each. check out the d𝒾rectory? stat agora hills inspo.

𝖪𝖨𝖲𝖲𝖨𝖭𝖦 𝖠𝖭𝖣 𝖧𝖮𝖯𝖤 𝖳𝖧𝖤𝖸 𝖢𝖠𝖴𝖦𝖧𝖳 𝖴𝖲──────𝑎𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁 𝗈𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖫𝖤𝖤 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖲𝖤𝖴𝖭𝖦

“they won't find us i promise,” heeseung tries to reassure you, taking a step forward and closing the already negligible space between the two of you. the light from the vents at the top shinning right into his eyes and onto your lips. janitor's closet― your gaze boring into his brown orbs; his falling onto your gloss glimmering against the dark― a kiss that steals your breath.

his arms pull you close by the curve of your waist, gripping the flesh as the kiss grows intense, heavy breaths and sloppy tongues.

“why are we even hiding?” you pant out between the kisses, holding him close and as hooked onto the whole idea of a secret thing. this was lee heeseung. no, this is him. secret flings and hookups, no strings attached & no efforts to make it work. at least that's what you knew of him.

he pulls away from the kiss for a moment, looking straight into your eyes,“i thought you liked it? the whole ‘keeping it a secret’, the thrill of trying not to get caught?” but here he is, doing things you supposedly like, putting in effort.

“isn't this how you are?” casual, clandestine and off the record defined him in your world. “no god, not with you,” his voice is rasp with defence, words tumbling out in a brisk edge. he is not what you think he is. and to him you are so much more than you ever could imagine to be. his lips brush against yours,”i could never be that with you. i want you so much, you have no idea.” and he goes in for another kiss, this time more intimate and deep.

“i swear i saw him go in here!” sunoo's voice echoes outside in the corridor, “what would he even be doing in there?” and before you both can even register the situation, too lost in the kiss, jay hurtles the door open.

you immediately push heeseung away, his steps languid as he staggers back slightly. annoyed and frustrated at his friends for ruining the moment.

jay stands still by the door, holding it open while sunoo comes over to see what's going on. catching sight of the disheveled appearances and gasping breaths, smudged gloss and flushed faces― and a very bummed out heeseung running his fingers through his hair, throwing glare after glare.

“y'all were..” the two intruders trail off in shock. which only intensifies after heeseung slams the door shut in their faces,”busy.” and gets busy with you again.

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖩𝖮𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖦

“are you sure the windows are tinted?” your question throws jay off for a second, of course it's valid to be worried about that. but you are literally in an empty parking lot, only about to kiss, not commit a crime or violate the laws of human decency. it'll just be a kiss, right?

“i’m sure, now come here,” his fingers wrap around your wrist, urging you to get onto his lap in the driver's seat. sighing in contentment once he feels you settle down comfortably. hands immediately reaching up to your waist in a delicate embrace. “don’t worry so much,” his voice is soft and calm, a high contrast to his heart skipping lanes in his chest.

“just think about me, focus on me,” words barely above a whisper before he kisses you.

his lips are chapped yet when they move against your own, they feel soft; a hint of champagne and waft of honey, floral notes and fruity taste of his drink from earlier at the after party. your hands slide around the back of his neck, tugging at the strands of his hair. faint sighs and low gasps fill the air, the tight space feeling sultry, growing fervid by the second.

it's dream-like, way too good and like floating in the clouds but the loud ringing of jay's phone snaps you both out of it.

riki is calling, the screen shows. he should probably pick it up. he should. yet you both collectively decide he can wait. everyone and everything besides the kiss can wait.

and that turns out to be a mistake. for not even five seconds into the second kiss, there's a thud against the window, riki’s face planted on the glass as he tries to look in,”he's in here jake!” he shouts in a quick look over behind him.

it startles you both, flinching out of the kiss. “jay you sai―” at your instant panic, jay is quick to shush you back into another kiss,”i know, i know. it really is tinted don't worry. they're just bluffing,” he reassures you, his mouth closing in on your top lip in a gentle suck.

“they're literally eating each other's face off! i told y'all they're probably together!” riki’s voice echoes into the parking lot, followed by jake's loud ass laugh. making both you and jay choke mid-kiss as you hop back into your seat and jay rushes out the car to keep their mouths shut.

“haven't y'all heard of privacy!” he scolds, his face hot red with embarrassment, words rolling off in a splutter.

𝖲𝖨𝖬 𝖩𝖠𝖤𝖸𝖴𝖭

“jake anyone could walk in!” you slap his chest in a protest, leaning away as he tries to pull you into a kiss again and again. ‘just a kiss’ he insists, but with you straddling his lap, his thighs spread apart and your legs on either side of him― it's impossible. this is jake sim we are talking about; and this guy, from what you have come to know, will turn anything into a makeout session.

“it's my room, they won't just barge in. trust me,” he tucks away the strands of hair falling into your face, his eyes and his voice dripping with desperation; hands moving to trail all over you in attempts to persuade you.

and it works, it takes you just one moment of recollection: the last time you made out with him, same place, same way. and you give in. how could you even resist a guy like this? if you could have, you wouldn't have been in a freaking situationship with him out of all things in the world of romance.

your lips clash against each other, like you haven't kissed in ages. mouths literally devouring and sucking the life out of the heart and the breath out of the lungs. no words exchanged, only muffled sounds and soft gasps.

“fuck your lips are so soft,” jake mumbles between the kiss,”so kissable” unable to hold his thoughts to himself. so drunk, so gone; he doesn't notice heeseung walking in on you both.

not for a few seconds at least, only bothering to cast him a glance over your shoulder before closing his eyes again. leaving heeseung with his jaw slacked, dumbfounded and stunned all at the same time. he takes it as a cue to leave and let the others know not to disturb you both. the last thing he catches glimpse of being your wide eyes realizing he had come in.

“you said no one would walk in!” you immediately complain at the sound of the door creaking close behind heeseung.

“well,” jake sits slack against the headboard, not concerned in the slightest. the amount of care jake could give in a situation like this might as well be equivalent to a speck of dust in the oh mighty universe. but he loved the way your face flushed warm at having been caught.

“it's not like we were trying to hide this. i’m pretty sure everyone already knows how things are between us,” he shrugs, holding you close; eyes locked with yours in a sultry yet genuine gaze,“and how much more things could be.”

𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖲𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖧𝖮𝖮𝖭

“never took you for this type,” sunghoon grins against your lips, breath hitting your cheeks warm and uneven. enjoying the way you seem to whine about not letting you kiss him; park sunghoon is a lot of things, but tease? tease is one that gives him life. it's not him, if he doesn't tease the fuck out of you before draining your life force with a kiss that's borderline psychotic.

and right now, with you perched atop the bathroom counter of jungwon's unit with the others right in the other room― sunghoon is exactly in the mood to get the situation heated. or to be more precise, to get caught.

“you were the one who kept teasing me in front of the others! i thought you wanted to― well, isn't this what you wanted too?” you grab his collar to keep him from leaning away, grazing your lips over his to tempt him. he isn't your man yet, but you absolutely know how to have him give in.

“i do, i want it.” his hands roam across the expanse of your back, dropping down to your thighs and tugging you forward. head tilting and leaning in to capture you in a kiss. park sunghoon is a tease, definitely; but he's also whipped.

so much so, he can't resist you even with all his self control working paid overtime.

it doesn't take long for the others to notice your absence, jungwon in particular running around to find you two for dinner. looking everywhere until he hears the shuffling inside the bathroom. he knocks once. twice. and when there's no response he turns the knob finding the door unlocked (that was sunghoon!!!).

“oh my god,” jungwon's exasperates, mood turning sour with embarrassment. your eyes shoot open at his voice, instantly trying to push sunghoon away but damn this guy keeps coming back each time and pulling you into the kiss again.

his ears burning red and the veins in his neck popping out yet he still wouldn't stop. he just can't, he physical can't.

“right in my bathroom? really? and you still going?” the screws in jungwon's brain rust out at he watches the scene unfold. “so sorry, jungwon,” you manage to mumble out, hitting against sunghoon’s chest in a warning.

it only makes him trail the kisses down your jaw and along the curve of your neck, burying his face into the crook in an attempt to keep smooching you in any way he can.

“he's really sorry i swear!” you yell out between the kisses, right before jungwon closes the door.

𝖪𝖨𝖬 𝖲𝖤𝖮𝖭𝖶𝖮𝖮

“sunoo,” you mumble in a soft whine, eyes trained on him while he works out. jealous of the dumbbells in his hand, seemingly stealing his attention off of you. his hum of response is affectionate, staring back at you in a ‘what is it?’ look.

“sunoo,” you whine again, louder this time. unable to just watch him when all you wanted was to kiss the life out of his lips. he stops mid-set, placing the weights back in their spot and walks over to where you sit at his desk. just sit and look pretty for me; god you'd do that so well.

he leans over you, hands resting on either side of the chair,”what is it that you want baby?” oh how much you loved this side of him. the side of him that made you believe this was more than it was.

your arms reach out to hook around his neck, pulling yourself up and pushing him against the edge of the desk in a desperate effort to kiss. lips pressing into his in a brief peck at first,”wanna kiss you.”

“jungwon and jake are right outside,” he warns, though not attempting to stop you at all. not even thinking of it. sitting against the edge, letting you pepper as many kisses as you want. “don't you want to kiss me?” you mutter out between the little smooches, twisting sunoo's heart with the tone of disappointment lacing your words and the loss of your touch following it.

“of course i want to baby. i always do,” his voice is low and full of yearning, the burning itch, the craze to be close again. as close as possible. his lips hovering over yours as he pulls you back against him, straight into a kiss. eyes half closed staring down at each other's mouth, parted and quite literally nibbling and sucking, far from gentle or friendly― at all in that sense.

the scent of your shampoo and the taste of your familiar lipbalm is dizzying, and sunoo wonders how he ever managed to just be a friend at one point―

“can't believe i thought you were just friends,” jake barges in, in a hurry, stopping in his tracks at the sight of you both. making sunoo pull away immediately, breathless and sweaty as he responds as casually as he can,”did you need something?” as if he wasn't just about to shove his tongue down your throat.

“um.. yeah―” you yank sunoo back, planting sloppy kisses on his lips and jake’s words die down in a feeble whisper,”i forgot..”

“baby― i mean y/n, wait―” if sunoo wasn't embarrassed enough earlier, he definitely was beyond humanely possible right now, trying to keep you off of him while jake watched and ultimately left with a shake of his head.

𝖸𝖠𝖭𝖦 𝖩𝖴𝖭𝖦𝖶𝖮𝖭

the silence in the air feels thick, stuffed full of tension. and it seems to get hotter by each passing second. your argument with jungwon hanging aloof within a myriad of questions unanswered; what are we? are we even supposed to argue like this? are we supposed to feel like this? jealous, possessive and clinging on to the ache that came along with this undefined relationship.

“i know i said i didn't want anything serious,” jungwon's voice pierces through the soft running of the tapwater behind you, shaky and choked with desire.

“but i get this rush, whenever i’m with you. it's― it's like this high i keep chasing,” he breaths out, taking slow steps towards you. cornering your figure against the kitchen counter, his head hanging low over your shoulder.

lust: one of the seven deadly sins. desire: fickle, and love: hoax and ever changing. he knew it all, so he had always made sure to just have his share of fun and leave it all behind but it was strange how badly you made him want so much more. things he never thought he would ever want. in a way that he was aware would probably destroy him.

“and i know it's not healthy, i know. but i just can't stop―” he lifts his head in the slightest, tilting it towards your lips, grazing and brushing against your own as if he wanted to stretch the moment out,”really can't stop myself,” a longing whisper trickling out his pandora’s box. a yearn for you, so deep he utterly and irrevocably can not defy.

the kiss that follows, starts off soft and gentle like a declaration of love. slowly weaving into one of hunger and craving, impulsive with the need to covet everything down to your core. to start where you end and end where you start. yang jungwon felt absolute badshit crazy.

this wasn't what he had in mind when he proposed the idea to sleep around a few times.

his lips move atop yours in a frenzy, hands grabbing anywhere and everywhere to keep you close. tongue brushing against your parted lips in a tease,”tell me you want me like that too,” he begs into your mouth.

“the water's runn―” clank. before you can answer him, breathless and glazed with need alike, sunoo’s loud ass voice breaks through the moment, followed by his plate of chocolate mousse crashing into the marble tiles.

“i did not see anything! i absolutely did not see y'all about to get it on right in the middle of the kitchen!” sunoo disappears out immediately. leaving you and jungwon panting and flushed with embarassment. your fogged up brains clearing up after the sudden interruption.

“i― your lips are swollen― um, do you want some mousse?” jungwon stammers, retreating away from you.

𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖬𝖴𝖱𝖠 𝖱𝖨𝖪𝖨

“you're crazy,” you whisper out, glancing around at the empty hallway. feeling the heat emanating off of riki's body as he stands dangerously close to you.

“you're the crazy one,” his chuckle echoes off the walls sending you into a hoard of panic. your hands slapping against his chest to push him away as quick as you can.

hatred, rivalry, and contempt had shaped the idea of your relationship with him for years. so much hostility and so much of ignorance. riki and you were like yin and yang, total opposites and unable to see one ground. ever. but things changed over a shared summer internship and you were not yet ready to accept or admit it. not to yourself or others. god forbid the others found out you didn't puke at the sight of riki.

and being possibly caught kissing him? over your dead body.

“just close your eyes,” riki takes off his beanie and puts it on your head, briskly pulling it down: over your eyes. and before you can utter a word of objection, he is cupping your face and squishing your cheeks― lips meeting your puckered ones in a messy kiss.

you melt into it immediately, ears tuning out and body relaxing. albeit the beating of your hearts seemed to sync over, loud and hard. hands trembling in the slightest, breath speeding up and skin growing warm. it felt like a rippling wave of cold water on a hot shore, the worry of being caught suddenly striking as something insignificant.

“i thought y'all hated each other's guts?” sunghoon’s sudden intrusion whacks the gears in your system. the two of you pulling away like, like poles repeling each other.

“we do!” “we don't!” you and riki call out at the same time, confusing the heck out of sunghoon. “okay.. so y'all are in kissing stage right now, that's cute.” he laughs regardless of the variance between your answers. giving you both a suggestive look before he leaves.

you push up the beanie, peeking from underneath, “you jerk! you did this on purpose didn't you! you wanted to be caught! i can't believe i fell fo―” but riki is not bothering with this now, not when he got what he wanted; a free pass to kiss you from now cause everyone would know of it probably by the end of the day.

“just shut up and kiss me,” he pulls the beanie back over your eyes and lunges forward, diving right into another kiss without wasting any more time. oh you felt like he shot you dead. with the cupid's arrow of course.

taglist 。open! @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @enhabooks @criminalyun @oddracha @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @jayjw16enxp

[ittybittyfanblog]

Only You, Darling (Only You, Babe)

Summary: There were orders for your abduction. You were made to be the bait by a rival gang to get to the elusive head of Onychinus. Sylus doesn’t take it too well. Word Count: 4.8k Tags: mc x sylus, fem!reader x sylus (use of she/her pronouns), depictions of violence (it gets a little graphic), reader gets abducted and injured, strong language, protective!sylus, he’s a little unhinged here, self-indulgent! A/N: I can’t believe this game pulled me out of a three-year creative rut LMAO. I’ve been doing fanarts, now I’m writing again?? The power these pixelated men hold over me, man.  Anyway, enjoy!  This version of Sylus is probably a little OOC idk idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It was close to midnight, and you're being followed.

On your six, a stocky man in an unassuming dark suit has been tailing you since you left the dingy bodega a little over a mile away from your apartment for about, three? five minutes– no, maybe even longer.

Shit, you mouth silently. Sloppy. You should’ve noticed him sooner, and the two other lackeys now closing in from up ahead. They’re armed too, if the hands hidden inside their jackets were any indication.

As if things aren't looking bad enough, you’ve decided tonight would be the perfect night to go weaponless, deciding against bringing your handgun with you since it was supposed to just be a quick run to the store for supplies. Namely, the late-night cravings sort of supply.

You clutch the wrinkled paper bag containing your coveted jalapeño Cheetos tightly.

This is what greed does to you, a mocking voice echoes in your head. Since when did your inner voice of reason sound masculine and oh-so-familiar? 

Exhaling quietly, you try to calm the rising beat of your heart and appear to be clueless of your surroundings. Walk at a normal pace. Look unaware of the men with the intention to… What even was this? An ambush? Good, old, regular robbery? No, it doesn’t seem like they were in it for something that insignificant. They wouldn’t even bother to be this cautious if it were. 

But then, what were they here for? The dangers you were more familiar with are of the monstrous kind in the literal sense of the word; entities that you face on a daily basis as a Deepspace hunter. Not the regular threats posed by mankind – which in this particular situation, suddenly feels more foreboding.

While racking your brain for ideas on how to slip away from their sight without escalating the situation, you fail to notice a fourth person hidden behind the dumpster inside the narrow alleyway on your left until you feel the cold, hard edge of a pistol gun hit your temple.  

With a shout, your hand shoots up in an attempt to yank the gun away from the hand holding it but the sudden burst of pain from the impact has left you feeling dizzy and off-kilter. The moment you throw your fists up to block your face, heavy fists strike you directly in a flurry of hits, colliding with your forearm and your unguarded ribs.

You let out a pained grunt as you stagger backwards, trying your hardest to keep yourself from falling back on your ass and ward off the next incoming attack. 

A sinister laugh alerts you of the others, now surrounding you in a circle. Shit!

You hastily shift your legs into a crouching position, bracing yourself as you attempt to sidestep the one in front of you before making a run for it. You spring into action, but before you can even take another step, an arm shoots out and coils tightly around your neck like a noose. A cloth that reeks of something distinct is slapped over your mouth and nose, rendering you unable to do anything but struggle. 

“Now, now– the boss wants her in one piece, John,” The stocky man, who’s apparently larger and more jacked up-close, pipes up. John tightens the limb circling your throat, preventing you from breathing, before slightly loosening his grip. 

 “I’d advise you from struggling too much, sweetheart. But if you insist on making this harder for yourself,” the man talking suddenly grins, revealing rows of crooked, silver teeth. “He ain’t said nothin’ about a couple of bruises.” 

You give him your dirtiest glare, trying to pull away from the death grip the burly man called John had on you, but you feel your muscles slowly becoming heavier and your vision starting to blur. 

Ch-chloroform?

You make a muffled shout, a scurry that earns you a heavy hit on the stomach, one last futile move to free yourself, but the inevitable effect of the potent substance starts to overpower you. 

“After all, we need to make sure that the big bad boss of Onychinus actually comes for his bitch, don’t we?”

Rendered completely useless, the men start to make quick work to restrain your arms and legs in a hogtie before carrying you down the street, to a shaded corner where a large, gray van is parked.

The barn doors open, and you’re tossed in carelessly to the back, landing painfully on the cold, hard floor. An involuntary whimper escapes your lips, feeling like one big bruise; splotches of red and blue start to form like a violent watercolor on your skin. 

The engine revs. Before completely losing consciousness, you think you hear a faint caw.

The car drives off the beaten path, into the night, leaving not a trace of evidence of what transpired mere minutes ago aside from a discarded brown paper bag and a deflated bag of chips. 

-

-

-

From a distance, flying towards the hazy skyline, a mechanical bird crows a bad omen. 

_____

In the dead of the night, the head of Onychinus sits as a spectator; a towering presence at the head of a table inside a private room, obscured in plain sight, in an unremarkable establishment far east of Linkon City. 

Unassuming as it may be, the room’s occupants are men of great renown, both in influence and notoriety. The CEO of a chain business in Azure Square, a regional manager of a well-known bank in Linkon, the head of a weapons trade representing a faction in the N109 zone… All held significant power, all held ulterior motives.

A meeting of minds; the type held only in the secrecy of the night, gone in the break of dawn. 

Sylus has half the mind to listen in on the droning exchange of fake pleasantries and plastic smiles as the men deal trades in nature that of weapons and favors. A number of hungry, beady eyes cast him furtive glances, fearful yet devout. Some cautious in the hope of earning his approval. 

“–the package will be en route to the agreed-upon address by the end of the week,” a stout man in spectacles finishes off, clearing his throat. Beads of sweat start to form at the back of his neck as red eyes bore into his, assessing. Deliberating. “O-or if Richard’s able to give me the go-ahead in advance, I’ll make sure it arrives by Friday,” a gulp–then, “sir.” 

All in reverence. 

He hums, his switchblade dancing idly in his hand, deliberately stretching the tension that hangs heavy in the air. He delights in this power to unsettle, savoring the authority that his mere presence commands—a demand for absolute deference. 

“Make it half that time, will you, Raymond?” Sylus responds amicably, not as a question. The man, Raymond, sputters. 

“That won’t be pos–” Sylus tilts his head, eyes shifting into something more dangerous. “Please, I’ll try to cut the time shorter but there won’t be any assurances.” 

The pale-haired man sighs in acquiescence. “I guess that will have to do.” Raymond lets out an exhale of relief, but catches his breath as Sylus continues, “Any later than Wednesday, and I’ll come to claim it personally.” 

Raymond, more nerves than man, starts to blabber something in response–but stops when something black suddenly appears in a blaze of dark energy, near the shoulder of the intimidating man he’s trying to appeal to. 

Sylus raises a hand, and a large crow lands on his pointer finger. 

He caws, once. Twice. And shows a projection. 

The inhospitably cold room suddenly went glacial. 

All conversation halts to a stop as an overwhelmingly suffocating aura starts to emanate from the man–no, the being at the head of the table, making all that are in the vicinity freeze in fear. 

The devil posing as the leader of Onychinus abruptly stands up, and Raymond thinks, Oh I’m going to die here.

Without a word, the man disappears in a Stygian haze.

_

Five minutes later, only after they felt like death was no longer looming over their heads, did anyone dare to move a muscle.

_____

Your head hurts, and your mouth tastes of rust. 

Having been awake for longer than your captors were aware of – two (?) of which bickering near a barred slate of metal that you assume is the door after taking a quick peek from beneath the mess of hair concealing your face – you try to get your bearings together without arousing the suspicion of your present audience. 

“–bet it’s gonna take a while ‘fore that guy arrives. You think she’s enough to get him to show his face?” 

“Damned if I know. In any case, we got a pretty, li’l plaything on our hands,” a snort. “Make her worth the effort.” 

Where were you? From what it looks like, you’ve been transported into a nondescript underground bunker of sorts, dank with a hint of mildew and rot in the air; a rumbling air vent on your left masking any noise that escaped your mouth when you woke up. The area is poorly lit, save for the flickering bulb hanging precariously above your head as your main source of light – good for casting shadows to hide your bruised face, bad for the pounding headache you’re pretty sure is a concussion. And with your back seemingly close to a wall, you arrive at the conclusion that there are no other entryways, no way to leave, but the guarded door in front of you. 

In short, you have no idea where you are. 

Fuck–this is bad, you swear to yourself internally, trying to control the rising panic swelling up your chest. You never thought your nightcap would lead to this mess. Nobody knows about your current predicament, and it’ll take more than a day before your absence raises any alarms, so right now, you’re on your own. 

Think, think! What can you do?

What can you do? You have nothing on you, nothing you can use as a makeshift weapon to defend yourself with, and your hands are tightly bound behind your back by a thick, heavily twined rope with no give. The situation is slowly turning bleaker by the second, and it isn’t even your fault that you’re here in the first place! You were made a pawn, a mere bait in this messed-up dick-measuring contest between a crazy, sadistic, self-proclaimed head honcho and Onychinus’s own crazy, sadistic–

Wait a minute. Sylus. 

You send a strong prayer to anyone above that’s listening, and an angry telepathic shout for good measure to the one who’s unaware of his involvement – but nonetheless the source of your ruined night – in this attempt at kidnapping a perfectly law-abiding citizen of Linkon.

Sylus, as much as I hate your unfortunate tendency to stalk me through means that, honestly? Eludes the hell out of me, I really, REALLY hope that you’ve been keeping tabs toni–

“Hey, boss! I think this one’s awake!”

Fuck. No use pretending anymore. 

You hear heavy footsteps from outside the room before the corroded metal door swings open to reveal a large man, easily standing above six feet, sporting a neatly trimmed beard and an unsettling smile. His arms are covered in tattoos– overlapping, almost undecipherable. A gnarly scar runs from the side of his mouth to just above his brow bone; his right eye a cloudy gray, most likely a morbid souvenir from the sustained injury.

His functional eye zeroes in on your pitiful form, and his smile widens into a hostile grin. 

“Well, well. It seems like our esteemed guest is finally ready to join in the fun,” His voice sounds like gravel, with a mocking intonation. “I hope my men weren't too rough with you on the way here.” 

You let out a breath through your teeth, blinking a few times to try and rid the blurring in your vision. You have to bide your time– “Why am I here? What do you want from me?” 

The man cocks his head to the side, smile still in place. “I assume you already know. But I’ll indulge you your little questions, why not?”

He crosses the space separating the two of you with just a few, languid steps before he’s in front of you. He leans forward, brushing the messy locks of hair – dried with blood – away from your face in a deceptively calm manner. “The devil needs to pay his dues, but it’s been rather difficult to get a hold of him, you see,” he sighs in exaggerated disappointment. ”I intend to collect, so I waited patiently for the right moment, for an opening. For an opportunity. 

And here, the opportunity presents herself.” 

You sneer, moving your head back to let your hair fall from his creepy hold. “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about, mister, but I’m pretty sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

He barks out a laugh before gripping your chin tightly between his fingers. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. Maybe we can find a better use for it.” 

You feel it before you hear it. 

“Perhaps not.” 

Something vicious saturates the air, something intense and terrifying and wrong. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and some sort of primordial response deep within your brain is telling you to get away from it.

But then, the paralyzing fear melts away to something akin to hope when you realize the source of this new disturbance.

Relief washes over you when familiar ink-and-red tendrils materialize behind the man in front of you. The dark wisps dissipate like smoke as soon as it comes and in place, your savior – sporting an expression that could only be described as downright murderous – stands before you, all six feet of unadulterated rage.

Several things happened so fast, it was almost simultaneous.

A cacophony of shouts came loudest from the two men who had been on guard duty but screams also echoed from outside the room. You saw flashes of red, twin laughter, and blood spurting from the necks of the now headless guards, and then a symphony of bullets and a lot of things breaking rang across the room. 

Suddenly– 

Deafening silence. As if something has put an abrupt stop to the noise. 

Amidst all the chaos, the scarred man in front of you had no time to make a move before savage whips of crackling energy engulfed him, leaving only his head free from the smothering darkness. 

His expression betrays something wild and manic as he tries twisting around to look at the figure behind him. “You–”

Sylus pays no mind to the breathing, dead fool – lower than dirt on his feet, with the nerve to harm what is most precious to him – as he keeps his gaze solely on you; his eyes darting up and down as if taking inventory of all the bruises and scrapes you sustained from the abduction. 

You meet his eyes. “You came.” 

An indecipherable look passes his face, gone as quickly as it came. “A little too late. I apologize.” 

You weakly huff out a chuckle, wanting to shake your head but decide against it lest it aggravates your concussion. A prickling sensation, then the rope around your wrists falls off with a quiet thud. 

“Luke. Kieran.” 

“Everything’s all accounted for, boss,” Kieran announces, suddenly appearing beside your right, along with Luke who’s on your left. Both look no worse for wear.

 The latter gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh, man. They got you good, little crow.” 

“Caught me off-guard, s’all,” you insist half-heartedly. 

A sigh. “Transport her directly back to base. Attend to her critical injuries once you arrive, and keep her awake. I’ll handle the rest once I get back,” Sylus instructs the twins in a tone that brooks no argument.

They nod in sync and start making a move to carry you out, but you protest.

“Wait, you’re staying behind?” For some reason, the thought of being separated from him, even for a short amount of time, makes you feel ill. Well, worse than your current state at least. 

Sanguine eyes soften when he hears the tremble in your voice. The offending man in front of you, reduced into something less threatening than a cowering dog in comparison to your rescuer, is forcibly pushed aside to make room for Sylus as he steps closer. 

He crouches low so that you’re looking down on him instead of up. One large hand covers both of yours, mindfully avoiding the fresh rope burns on your wrists, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the unmarred part of your skin. 

“This will be quick, sweetie. I’ll be back by your side before you know it,” he exhales, closing his eyes for a moment. “I swear to you.”

You swallow, but nodded reluctantly. “Come home soon.” 

“I will.”

With that, you let yourself be carried out of the claustrophobic space you were confined to, into a larger room littered with unmoving bodies that you're frankly too tired to care about at the moment, up three (rickety) flights of stairs where you exit into what looks like the inside of an empty shipping container, before finally, finally getting out. 

A gust of salty wind hits you and you ask, “Are we near the docks?” 

“Yeah,” Kieran answers, carefully putting you down on the backseat of Sylus’ car. “Mephisto trailed after the van they stuffed you in before reporting back to the boss. We followed soon after.” 

Luke frowns as he inserts the key in the ignition. “We weren’t aware that they had eyes on you for a while now. An oversight on our part, won’t happen again,” he assures you. “Gotta give them props for that, at least.” 

Kieran, now getting in the passenger side of the vehicle, shoots him a look. 

“Anyway, we’re glad we got to you before they did anything… worse,” Kieran continues, then winces in a show of mock sympathy. “Can’t say the same to that fucker back inside. Haven’t felt Sylus’ bloodlust this strong in a long while.” 

You try to focus on their words, but you feel yourself nodding off as the remaining adrenaline slowly leaves your body. You know you should feel more worried about what the two were insinuating, but your mouth still tastes like you swallowed a bunch of coins and you just want a soft bed to sleep in for an entire day. Or three. 

“Oi, no sleeping. Doctor’s orders,” A snapping finger in front of your face forces you awake. 

You blink your tired eyes open in an attempt to stay lucid, the pulsing pain in your head becoming more prominent as soon as the threat of danger has passed. 

“This is gonna be a long night,” you sigh, wishing that Sylus will keep his word and be quick about… whatever he’s planning to do with your abductor. 

–––––

There hasn’t been much left of the man who proclaims to be the new head of an arms syndicate Sylus had dealt with in the past. He recalls the history of his relationship with the cartel being less than cordial, but nothing that would warrant his ire. Except for tonight.

He usually doesn’t leave a trace when doling out punishments; no, not anymore. Not in recent years. He prefers to be efficient about his killings, dissipating any evidence in thin air after reducing them into fine paste, rather than make a big show out of it. Quick and precise.

Except today… Someone had the arrogance, the absolute audacity to steal directly from the dragon’s nest.

The contents of which have always been kept in strict confidentiality. What is known, only chosen individuals bound to secrecy are privy to, and a lot of people would kill for. 

But unbeknownst to anyone else but its owner, only one thing in this hoard of secrets truly matters to the dragon. One solitary treasure alone he would burn planets for – and someone has tried to steal it.

Harm. the treasure. To get to him. 

It seems as if the new bloods needed a reminder of who, exactly, they’re stealing from. 

One who dwells deep within the underbelly of the cities both monster and men inhabit, that even the most heinous of sinners seeking solace in the dark, are afraid of. 

And what retribution tastes like to those who are foolish enough to bite more than what they can chew.

The poor soul unfortunate enough to be the first one to discover the carnage will witness that what was left of the man that had wronged the Onychinus kingpin is stuck on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling of a basement where the treasure was held captive. They will find that the man’s innards are deliberately hung in a haphazard fashion, in all corners of the room like bloody, sinewy tinsel. 

And the centerpiece of this bloodbath is none other than the man’s decapitated head, forcibly attached to the hanging light in the middle of the room. A bulb crudely drilled past his cranium, while blood dripped down the floor in slow, ominous rivulets. 

They will understand in dawning horror that the one responsible for this... gross butchery, has left the head swinging. That the man’s mouth will forever remain agape in an eternal scream to immortalize the exact moment he realizes the gravity of his sin.   

Yes, Sylus is more than glad to remind them. 

_____

You arrive a quarter past four AM. 

Barely taking a step past the foyer, the twins immediately whisk you inside to perform an ‘emergency patch-up.’ Luke’s words, not yours.

“We’re your personal CNA while waiting for the head nurse to take over,” he explains cheerfully, wrapping another layer of gauze around your wrist. You hiss when Kieran dabs a cotton ball on the gash on your temple, peroxide fizzing as it comes in contact with the dried-up blood. Muttering out a “sorry!” Kieran does quick work in cleaning the injury and covering the affected area.

In no time at all, all visible wounds are bandaged and disinfected. The worst of your head wound had to be stitched up, but other than that, nothing seems to require immediate medical attention. There’s nothing left for you to do but to bear the aches that came along with the bruises – especially on your tender midriff – and to pop a tylenol for your throbbing headache.

You offer them a sincere, “Thanks. No, really.” before they leave you in Sylus’ room, after multiple reminders to “not sleep before the attending nurse arrives for the final diagnosis.” 

(You think they might have enjoyed playing caretaker a little too much.) 

With a lot more effort than you care to admit, you painstakingly remove your bloodstained clothes until you're down to your underwear, before draping yourself in a large, red, silk robe. A hot shower sounds heavenly to your sore muscles, but the soft mattress is calling to you more so you head straight to bed. 

With nothing else to occupy yourself with, you prop your head on a mountain of pillows – to keep yourself relatively upright – and let out a sigh. 

Tonight had been a shitshow. All you wanted was something to snack on while you binge through the last season of the show you were watching back at your apartment; you never thought a late-night run to the store just a few blocks away would result in… this. If not for Sylus’ intervention, you’re sure you'd be leaving with a lot more than a couple of scrapes. If not worse.

You're lost in your own thoughts when short, successive raps on the door catch your attention. It swings open before you have the chance to pipe out a, “come in!”

Speak of the devil.

Sylus enters the room, not a hair out of place. You notice that he’s changed into a casual, brown sweater and a pair of dark-washed jeans. His eyes meet yours, tightly-controlled expression relaxing as he crosses the room towards the side of your bed, wasting no time. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Still pretty sore, but Luke and Kieran already handled the worst of my injuries,” you answer, making a move to sit up. Sylus tuts disapprovingly, gentle as he puts a hand on your chest to prevent you from moving any further. He sits gingerly on the edge of the mattress, careful not to jostle you. Once fully settled, he let out a deep sigh.

“You had me worried for a moment there, kitten.” He admits, a slightly rough edge to his voice as emotion seeps into it. He regards you intently, like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re here, safe. 

Your hand reaches out towards his face. Without missing a beat, he leans in to nuzzle your palm, eyes closing shut. He reminds you of a big wolf, unbridled fire simmering beneath the surface, yet tame in the presence of his handler. 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you,” you assure him with a lopsided smile. “Give my thanks to Mephisto, as well. Tell him he gets a pass on the stalking this time.” 

Sylus opens his eyes, a hint of amusement and something else you can’t identify flickering through. “Oh, sweetie. You’ll be lucky if that bird gives you the privacy to bathe alone after tonight,” he jokes. 

He’s joking. Right?

You eye him for a moment before deciding to let it go. You're too tired to argue.

Instead, you cautiously ask a question you aren’t sure you even want the answer to. “What happened after we left?” 

Sylus expression doesn’t change except for the upward tick on the corner of his mouth; the same peculiar glint in his eyes coming across a little stronger. “They won’t be bothering you anymore. You don’t need to worry about anyone coming for you.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

He hums. “Do you really want to know?”

You stare at him, and he stares back at you placidly. 

You purse your lips and look away. “Maybe not.” 

Sylus breathes out a laugh. He gently grasps your chin between his forefinger and thumb, guiding your head to meet his gaze once more. A softer look on his face, inching closer to yours.

Your heartbeat slightly picks up. In your vulnerable state, you feel a welling desire to bare your feelings to the man in front of you. You want to tell him how relieved you felt when you saw him in that cursed basement, how he was able to quell your fears with just his presence alone the moment he appeared in a familiar haze of black and red. Like your own, personal, vindictive guardian. 

Instead, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his. 

Sylus groans quietly, a hand cupping your face as he leans closer to deepen the kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, savoring the feeling of contentment from being this close to him. You feel, more than you see, how his taut body loses the remaining tension from the events that transpired just mere hours ago, how he finally relaxes as he loses himself in you.

Very carefully, he eases you further down, cradling your head with one hand until it rests on a pillow. His lips drift to the corner of your mouth, trailing soft kisses up to the apples of your cheeks, your forehead, then to your nose. 

He pulls back slightly, chuckling when you make a sound of discontent. When you open your eyes, you see him looking at you– half-lidded and tender. 

In a low voice, he instructs, “Rest. You need it.”

The feeling of exhaustion pulls you in, but before you surrender to it, you remind Sylus, “I’m not that fragile, you know. You don’t have to worry too much.” You poke his cheek and he catches the offending digit to bite it affectionately. “I’ll be up and running in no time.”

He doesn't speak for a minute, considering your words. His mouth sets into a thin line before letting out a sigh.

“And if you get hurt again? What then?" He whispers so quietly, seeming as if he's talking to himself.

"I'll get hurt again, that's for sure," You tell him, matter-of-factly. "But really, that’s just an occupational hazard. I’m sure you realize."

“Love — what a terrible, little thing,” he muses, half-forlornly, half in jest. "I’d rip this cold heart out and throw it in flames if I could.”

While speaking, his hand finds its way into the tangles of your hair, gently running his fingers through the strands in a lulling manner. His lips landing on the crown of your head softly. Reverently.

You hum sleepily.

“Of course you would, Sy.”

_____

“You’ll be glad to know that the artifact you had your eye on back at the auction will be arriving this Wednesday.” 

“Huh? But I thought it was already sold to someone else?”

Sylus shrugs. “I made a counteroffer.” 

“You didn’t have to. I told you it was fine.” 

“I know. But I also recall a certain someone telling me how much they wished they had placed a bid on it on our way back,” he pinches your cheek fondly. “Don’t worry about it, kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh. Well– thank you,” you yawn in response, leaning your head to rest against his palm.

His thumb strokes your cheek. “Anything for you.”