#because it was on my mind and i was imagining this

[cherryxbooo]

I’ll do anything to make you happy

Summary: You were excited for winter break to start because it meant one thing: spending more time with Lando. But little did you know, that was the one thing you wouldn't be getting.

Reader x Lando Norris

Genre: fluff/angst

Winter always held a special kind of charm for me.

The frosty mornings, cozy blankets, and steaming cups of cocoa had always made this season my favorite.

But this year, it held a different promise: Lando finally had a break from racing.

After months of hectic schedules, jet-setting across the globe, and stolen moments in between races, I was looking forward to having him all to myself.

At first, it was everything I’d imagined and more.

We spent lazy mornings tangled in bed, with me teasing him about his messy hair while he pulled me closer, claiming I was his personal heater.

Breakfasts turned into brunches because we couldn’t stop talking or joking around.

We watched movies, baked cookies that turned out terrible, and played endless rounds of Mario Kart, which I always managed to win.

“You’re only winning because I’m letting you,” Lando said one evening, his grin teasing as he tossed the controller onto the couch.

“Sure you are,” I replied, laughing as I grabbed my victory snack from the table.

Those first few days felt like we were in our own little world, where nothing else mattered but us.

But soon, reality began creeping in.

It started innocently enough.

“Babe, Max just called,” Lando said one morning, leaning against the counter with his coffee mug in hand.

“He’s organizing a karting session. Shouldn’t take long.”

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride.

Racing was his passion, and I loved seeing him happy. “Go have fun. Just don’t let him beat you.”

“Never,” he said with a wink, kissing my temple quickly before heading out.

That day, I didn’t mind the quiet. I worked on some projects, caught up with friends, and even took a long bath.

By the time he got home, his cheeks were flushed with cold, and he couldn’t stop talking about how much fun he’d had.

But karting soon turned into golf.

Golf turned into poker nights. And poker nights turned into outings that stretched late into the night.

“I’ll be back soon,” he’d text, always with a heart emoji. But “soon” became later and later each time.

I told myself it was fine. He deserved this break.

He’d worked so hard all year, and if spending time with his friends helped him unwind, who was I to complain?

But as the days wore on, the house began to feel emptier, and so did I.

One evening, I decided to surprise him with his favorite dinner.

I spent hours in the kitchen, setting the table with candles and dimming the lights for a cozy atmosphere.

When Lando walked through the door, his expression softened as he took in the setup.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said, wrapping his arms around me.

“I wanted to,” I replied, smiling up at him.

“You’ve been so busy, and I thought it’d be nice to have a quiet night together.”

“That’s so sweet,” he said, leaning down to kiss me.

“But the guys are waiting for me. I promised I’d meet them for drinks tonight. Let’s rain check this?”

My smile faltered, but I nodded. “Of course.”

He kissed me again and was out the door before I could say anything more.

I sat down at the table, staring at the empty chair across from me.

The candles flickered, their light reflecting off the untouched plates. I took a deep breath, telling myself it was okay.

But deep down, a tiny crack had formed in my heart.

Days turned into weeks, and the cracks only deepened.

Lando’s absence became more noticeable, and I began to feel like a ghost in our own home.

One evening, after scrolling through endless photos of him with his friends on Instagram, I called Mia, my best friend.

“What’s wrong?” she asked the moment she picked up.

I sighed, the weight of my emotions pressing down on me.

“It’s Lando. He’s been spending so much time with his friends lately, and I feel like I’m… invisible.”

Mia was quiet for a moment before saying, “Y/N, you’re not invisible. But you need to talk to him. He’s not a mind reader.”

“I don’t want to seem clingy,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re not clingy. You’re his girlfriend. He should want to spend time with you. Talk to him.”

Her words gave me the push I needed. That night, when Lando came home, I gathered my courage.

“Can we talk?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Of course,” he said, sitting down next to me.

I took a deep breath.

“I’ve been feeling… neglected lately. I know you’re enjoying your break, and I want you to have fun, but I miss us. I miss you.”

He frowned, reaching for my hand.

“Babe, I’m sorry if it feels that way. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

I nodded, but his words didn’t ease the ache in my chest. Before I could say more, he kissed me and stood up.

“Max needs help with something,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Love you!”

And just like that, he was gone. Again.

I tried my best to push away all negative thoughts until I thought about the positive ones.

Our second anniversary was just days away, and I held onto the hope that he’d make it special.

I told myself the late nights didn’t matter. He was probably planning something incredible for our anniversary.

The next day,

The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft golden hues.

I stretched lazily, a content smile curling my lips as I reached across the bed.

My fingers met cold sheets. The space beside me was empty.

I frowned, the giddy excitement I had woken up with faltering.

Today was our second anniversary.

I had imagined waking up wrapped in Lando’s arms, whispering sleepy “Happy anniversary” wishes before sharing breakfast together.

Instead, he was gone.

I also realized that I hadn't heard him come back last night.

He told me he was just helping Max out with something, but he probably went out partying with his friends afterward, again.

I tried to shake off the disappointment as I climbed out of bed, brushing my hair out of my face.

Maybe he had planned a surprise and needed to step out early.

A flutter of hope lifted my spirits as I grabbed my robe and headed toward the kitchen.

The scent of coffee greeted me, but there was no sign of Lando.

Instead, on the counter, I found a note written in his familiar scrawl:

“Gone golfing with the guys. Be back later. Love you.”

My heart sank. Golfing? On our anniversary?

I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, trying to focus on the fact that he had said he’d be back later.

He wouldn’t forget our dinner, right?

We’d planned this evening together weeks ago, and I’d been looking forward to it ever since.

I folded the note and placed it aside, telling myself not to overthink it. He would be back in time.

He promised.

After a quick breakfast, I set to work preparing for the evening.

My heart thudded with a mix of excitement and nervousness as I laid out my plans.

Lando had been so busy lately, and this was my chance to remind him how much I loved him, despite everything.

I spent hours in the kitchen, cooking all his favorite dishes: his go-to pasta, a roasted chicken dish he always requested, and even the dessert I’d failed at three times before finally perfecting.

The smells of herbs, garlic, and chocolate filled the apartment, making it feel warm and inviting.

Between stirring pots and chopping vegetables, I took breaks to set up the dining table.

I draped it with a soft cream tablecloth, adding candles and a scattering of rose petals for a romantic touch.

Fairy lights hung along the walls, casting a cozy glow that made the space feel magical.

On the counter, I carefully placed his gift, a sleek watch he had admired months ago but never bought for himself.

Not forgetting to attach a handwritten note to the box.

With everything ready, I checked the clock.

It was almost evening. So I had to hurry up to get ready.

I slipped into the dress I had chosen weeks ago, a soft, fitted number I knew he loved on me.

My makeup was simple yet elegant, and I added the finishing touch, a spritz of the perfume Lando had gifted me for my last birthday.

I felt beautiful, excited, and nervous all at once as I sat on the couch, watching the clock.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

By the time twenty minutes had gone by, I grabbed my phone, texting him a quick, “Hey, are you on your way?”

No response.

An hour later, I texted again. Then called. Still nothing.

My excitement turned into a gnawing worry that sat heavy in my chest.

Where was he? Had he forgotten?

Two hours passed.

The candles on the table had burned down halfway, their flickering flames reflecting off the now-cold plates of food.

The fairy lights, once magical, now felt like mockery.

Finally, three hours later, I gave up.

Tears stung my eyes as I blew out the candles, packed away the food, and removed my dress, exchanging it for soft pajamas.

My makeup was smeared with tears by the time I climbed into bed.

I grabbed my phone one last time, and my heart shattered when I saw the Instagram story.

It was one of Lando’s friends, showing a clip of him laughing, drink in hand, surrounded by his friends.

He looked happy. Carefree.

And completely oblivious that tonight was our anniversary.

The tears came faster, hot and uncontrollable. I buried my face in the pillow, the ache in my chest overwhelming.

I had been so sure he’d come back, that he’d remember. But I was wrong.

Later that night,

The apartment was cloaked in silence when Lando opened the front door, the click of the lock echoing faintly in the stillness.

He stumbled inside the weight of exhaustion and faint traces of guilt tugging at his chest.

The soft glow of the streetlights outside illuminated the darkened space just enough for him to make out his surroundings.

Something felt… off.

He reached for the light switch, and as the room was bathed in warm light, his eyes landed on the dining table across from him.

He froze.

The table was beautifully decorated, candles placed strategically, now melted into small stubs, surrounded by rose petals that had been artfully scattered.

Plates of food were neatly covered with lids to keep them from going bad, but even from a distance, Lando could tell they were his favorites.

He took a tentative step forward, his stomach sinking further with each movement.

Resting near the center of the table was a small, wrapped box with a note attached to it.

The sight made his chest tighten, a creeping realization clawing at the edges of his mind.

His fingers trembled as he picked up the note. Unfolding it carefully, he read the words in her familiar handwriting:

"To my Lando, the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for being my partner, my love, my everything. Happy anniversary, baby. Love, Y/N."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His heart sank as the full weight of the evening’s significance crashed over him.

Anniversary. He’d forgotten their second anniversary.

Lando stood there, the note still clutched in his hand, his throat tightening as shame washed over him.

He thought back to the past few weeks, to the times he’d brushed you off or come home late without so much as an explanation.

He couldn’t even recall the last time you two spent real, quality time together.

You had tried to talk to him about it, about how you felt neglected, and he had dismissed your concerns every single time.

Now, standing there amidst the evidence of your effort and love, he felt like the worst boyfriend in the world.

Lando exhaled shakily, running a hand through his hair as regret threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

He glanced around the room, noticing how quiet it was. He knew you were asleep.

His eyes landed on his phone, dead from the night’s events.

With a heavy sigh, he plugged it into the charger, pacing nervously as he waited for it to turn back on.

When it finally lit up, the screen was flooded with notifications, missed calls and unread messages from Y/N.

The time stamps told the story of your evening:

“Hey, are you on your way?” - 8 p.m. “I’m waiting for you… everything’s ready.” -8:30 p.m. “Lando, please call me.” -9 p.m. “Are you okay? I’m starting to worry.” -10 p.m.

The last message was hours old, her tone shifting from hopeful to concerned.

Each notification felt like another jab to his heart, the guilt almost unbearable.

He dropped his phone onto the counter and made his way toward their shared bedroom.

Pushing the door open quietly, he stepped into the dimly lit room.

His gaze immediately found her curled up under the covers, her face half-buried in the pillow.

His breath hitched when he noticed the faint streaks on her cheeks, traces of tears she hadn’t been able to hide.

The sight made his heart clench painfully. She’d cried herself to sleep, and it was his fault.

Lando approached the bed slowly, kneeling beside her as he took in her tear-streaked face.

She looked so peaceful yet so vulnerable, her chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

Guilt swirled in his chest as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, thick with regret.

Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, lingering for a moment as if hoping it could somehow convey all the apologies he couldn’t say while she was awake.

His thumb grazed her cheek, and he sighed deeply.

“You didn’t deserve this,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

“I’ve been such an ass… the worst boyfriend. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I love you so much.”

She stirred slightly at his touch but didn’t wake.

Lando watched her for a moment longer before standing, his mind racing with plans to fix what he’d broken.

Tomorrow, he vowed, would be all about her.

The next morning, I woke up with a dull ache in my chest, my body heavy from the night before.

My eyes were sore and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I glanced at the empty side of the bed, already prepared for the familiar sting of disappointment.

Figured he’d leave again before I woke up, I thought bitterly.

Dragging myself out of bed, I moved to the bathroom to freshen up.

The cold water on my face didn’t do much to wash away the exhaustion or the emotional weight from the previous night.

With a sigh, I tied my hair back and made my way downstairs, expecting another day of hurt to unfold.

Halfway down the stairs, though, something unusual stopped me in my tracks.

The smell of coffee, rich and inviting, wafted through the air.

There was another scent too, pancakes? My brow furrowed in confusion.

"That can’t be right. Lando doesn’t cook... does he? Who am i kidding he can't even boil eggs."

I cautiously descended the rest of the stairs, each step filling me with equal parts curiosity and hesitation.

As I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I froze at the sight before me.

There he was, standing by the stove, flipping a pancake with a focused but slightly clumsy determination.

Plates of food lined the table, croissants, fresh fruit, juice, and what looked like store-bought pastries.

It didn’t take long to figure out most of the spread wasn’t homemade, but the effort was unmistakably his.

“Morning, love,” Lando greeted me, his tone soft and tentative, his lips curling into a nervous smile.

I raised an eyebrow, my arms crossing instinctively. “What’s all this?”

He put the spatula down and stepped closer, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel.

“It’s breakfast... and an apology,” he said, his voice earnest.

My eyes flickered between him and the spread on the table.

I could see he was trying, but the hurt from last night still lingered like a heavy cloud over my chest.

“Come sit,” he said gently, pulling a chair out for me.

I hesitated for a moment before sitting down, my arms still crossed defensively.

Lando grabbed a plate, placing a pancake in front of me before adding a small pile of fruit and a croissant on the side.

I eyed him suspiciously as he poured me a cup of coffee, then sat across from me.

“What are you doing, Lando?” I asked, my voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he met my gaze.

“I messed up, Y/N. Big time. And I need you to know how sorry I am.” His voice was steady but filled with regret.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Last night,” he began, his brows furrowing,

“I forgot our anniversary. I forgot the one day I should’ve been making you feel like the most important person in the world. And it’s not just last night, I’ve been neglecting you for weeks. You told me how you felt, and I brushed it off like an idiot.”

His voice cracked slightly as he spoke, and I could see the weight of his guilt etched into every line on his face.

“I’ve been selfish, caught up in my own world, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. You deserve so much better than that, Y/N. Better than me.”

I felt my throat tighten as his words sank in. The sincerity in his tone chipped away at the walls I’d put up.

“I was so hurt, Lando,” I said, my voice trembling.

“I waited for you all night. I planned everything because I thought… I thought you’d come home and we’d celebrate together. I stayed up, hoping you’d walk through that door with a smile, ready to tell me how much you love me. But you didn’t.”

Tears pricked my eyes as I continued.

“I saw that video of you and your friends. You were laughing and having fun while I sat here, alone, on what was supposed to be our night.”

Lando’s face fell, his hands gripping the edge of the table as if grounding himself from the weight of my words.

“I know,” he whispered.

“And I hate myself for it. Seeing what you did for me last night, the decorations, the food, the note. I realized just how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I never want you to feel that way again, Y/N. You’re the most important thing in my life. I need you to believe that.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, sliding it across the table to me.

“What’s this?” I asked, my voice softer now, though my heart still carried the sting of last night.

“Open it,” he urged.

I carefully lifted the lid, revealing a delicate necklace with a sparkling pendant.

The intricate design caught the morning light, making it shimmer.

“Lando…” I trailed off, overwhelmed.

“It’s not enough to make up for what I’ve done,” he said quickly,

“but it’s a start. And today, it’s all about you. Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go, we’ll do it.”

I stared at the necklace for a moment before meeting his eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

“But,” I added, my tone firm, “this doesn’t mean I’ve fully forgiven you yet.”

“I know,” he said, nodding.

“And I don’t expect you to. But I’ll spend every day proving to you how much I care, how much I love you. I won’t stop until you believe me again.”

The determination in his voice made my chest tighten.

I wanted to hold onto my anger, to make him feel the depth of my hurt, but seeing him now, vulnerable, regretful, and desperate to make things right.

I couldn’t help but feel the smallest crack in my resolve.

As the morning unfolded, Lando’s sincerity shone through.

He insisted on clearing the table and cleaning up, stealing small glances at me as if trying to gauge my mood.

I wasn’t ready to let go of all the hurt just yet, but for the first time in weeks, I felt a glimmer of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

The morning's heartfelt apology set the tone for what became one of the most memorable days Lando and I had spent together in weeks.

While I was still guarded, I couldn’t deny that he was trying, really trying, to make things right.

As I got ready to leave the house, he was already by my side, holding my hand, his other arm slung casually around my shoulder.

“I promised today would be all about you,” he said, giving me that signature soft smile.

“So, where to first?”

We started with a trip to the mall. At first, I felt a little awkward, hesitant to fully enjoy the experience.

But Lando was like a lovesick puppy, following me from store to store, holding my bags, and insisting I buy anything that caught my eye.

“Do you like this dress?” I asked, holding up a flowy sundress against myself.

“I love it,” he said without hesitation. “But I’d probably love anything on you.”

I rolled my eyes at his smooth comment but couldn’t help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he replied, grabbing the dress and adding it to the pile of things he’d insisted on buying.

From clothes to accessories, he didn’t say no to anything.

When I protested, saying he was spending too much, he brushed it off.

“I’d spend everything on you, Y/N,” he said with such sincerity it made my heart ache.

Afterward, he took me to my favorite café for lunch.

The cozy little place was one we often went to in the early days of our relationship, and the nostalgia hit me hard as we sat down.

“I missed this,” I admitted as I sipped my coffee.

“Me too,” Lando said, reaching across the table to hold my hand.

“And I’m going to make sure we never lose this again.”

Next, he surprised me with a visit to a local pottery studio.

I couldn’t help but laugh when Lando struggled to shape a vase, the clay slipping through his fingers.

“Okay, you’re supposed to keep your hands steady,” I teased, leaning over to guide him.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert?” he joked, though his grin softened as I showed him how to shape the clay.

It was messy, chaotic, and perfect.

By the end, we both had clay smudged on our faces, and we were laughing like we hadn’t in weeks.

From there, we stopped at a flower shop.

Lando picked out the biggest bouquet of my favorite flowers, holding it out to me with a boyish grin.

“For you,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops today, aren’t you?” I teased, though my heart swelled as I buried my nose in the fragrant blooms.

“Only the best for my girl,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes serious.

For the rest of the day, he didn’t leave my side.

He held my hand as we walked through the streets, his arm draped protectively around me whenever we stopped to rest.

He peppered me with kisses at every opportunity; on my cheek, my forehead, my temple.

“You’re being extra clingy today,” I said with a small laugh as he pulled me into another hug.

“Making up for lost time,” he murmured, his chin resting on the top of my head.

Bit by bit, the walls I’d built around my heart began to crumble.

His efforts felt genuine, and I found myself smiling more easily, the hurt from the night before slowly fading into the background.

By the time we got home, the sun was setting, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.

We were both tired but happy as we curled up on the couch together.

Lando tucked me under his arm, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said after a long moment of silence.

His tone was serious, and I looked up at him curiously.

“Yeah?”

“I need to say this again because you deserve to hear it,” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion.

“I’m so sorry for everything, for neglecting you, for forgetting our anniversary, for making you feel like you weren’t my priority. You are my priority, Y/N. You’re the best thing in my life, and I hate that I made you feel otherwise.”

His words hit me straight in the chest, and I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

“I know I hurt you,” he continued, his hand cupping my cheek as he looked into my eyes.

“But I swear, I’ll spend every day proving how much I love you. I’ll never let you feel like that again.”

My heart felt full as I reached up to hold his hand.

“You’ve done a lot for me today, Lando,” I said softly.

“And it’s helped. I can see how much you mean it.”

“So... does that mean you forgive me?” he asked, his tone hopeful but cautious.

I smiled, leaning up to kiss him. “Yeah, I forgive you.”

The relief on his face was almost comical, and he immediately began peppering my face with kisses, my cheeks, my forehead, my nose, even the corners of my lips.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he murmured between kisses, his joy infectious.

Just when I thought the day was over, Lando suddenly sat up.

“Wait, I have one last thing,” he said, standing and disappearing into the other room.

I frowned, confused, as he returned with a small envelope in hand.

“What is this?” I asked as he handed it to me.

“Open it,” he urged, a playful but nervous glint in his eyes.

I carefully tore open the envelope, and my breath caught as I pulled out two plane tickets.

My eyes widened as I read the destination: Maldives.

“Lando… are you serious?” I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

He grinned. “You’ve always said you wanted to go. So, I booked us a two-week stay. Just you and me. No distractions.”

Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at him, overwhelmed.

“You didn’t have to do this…”

“Yes, I did,” he said firmly, pulling me into his arms.

“I’ll do anything to make you happy, Y/N. Anything.”

I hugged him tightly, burying my face in his chest.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“I love you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“I love you too,” I replied, my voice muffled but sincere.

We settled back into the couch, cuddled up together, the weight of the past few weeks finally lifting.

After a long silence, I broke it with a playful smile.

“If you ever neglect me like that again, I’m breaking up with your ass,” I teased.

Lando laughed, his arms tightening around me. “Fair enough. But don’t worry, I won’t. Not ever again.”

And for the first time in weeks, I believed him.

The end

[aajjks]

Bf!Toji Masturbation Headcanons.

warnings: éxpílíct smút, 18+ thémés, másturbátion, phóne séx, yándéré tójì, bf tójì, big díck tójì, prófáníty, mdní.

note. hot 🥵 I promise. enjoy this in the cold weather my loves <3

Toji who is so horny all the time it’s impossible for you to keep up with his needs and sex drive.

Toji who loves you so much, he is borderline obsessed with you and so needy, he’s not ashamed of it. You are such a sexy woman that his body automatically reacts to you.

Toji who can’t help but fail, in controlling his libido. Because it’s your fault— you make it hard and you make it impossible.

Toji who feels bad for keeping you up all night long and fucking you until you can’t walk straight and feel him for days.

But then one day, you give him a solution to this problem.

And that solution? It’s so simple..

Toji is a speechless mess when you suggest masturbation to him in order to relieve himself and relief you too.

At first, Toji… who is really confused and angry at your suggestion because it feels like to him that you don’t want him anymore or maybe that you’re tired of him and this relationship..

But when you look at him with those eyes of yours and politely explain your problem that it is hard for you to keep up with him sometimes? He understands.

Toji who actually takes your suggestion seriously, and tries to work on it.

The problem is though that he’s always horny for you.

It doesn’t help when you’re talking to him on the phone and the sound of your voice is making his cock harden instantly, even when you’re not there.

So he, remembering your suggestion, slowly lets his sweatpants down, talking to you in that breathy deep voice of his.

“Mhmm yeah keep talkin’ baby… mhmm yeah? Hm? Really she said that? What a bitch.” he listens to you rant, you had a bad day at work because of a bitchy coworker of yours.

Mina that coworker of yours deserves to have a special place in hell for herself for giving you a hard time and he will personally make sure that she does but right now all he cares about is getting off.

His dick is painfully hard. The more you talk the more it gets reactive and harder.

Toji takes it out of his boxers, the hard leaking thick cock of his pulsing in his hand as he stares at it, his eyes widen in surprise and fascination.

The cock pulses the more you talk, Toji groans as he finally starts to touch himself, “I-Uhhh yeah yeah ‘m listenin’ to you baby- ah yeah..yeahhh.”

You don’t catch on the way he’s so beathless and almost dazed, you are too busy being angry at your coworker to notice his tone changing

He touches the tip, squeezing it and he groans in pain & pleasure, he bites his hand to muffle the sound.

“Uh no… no no it’s nothing keep talking. I just I fucking hit myself accidentally…” he laughs, stroking his hard thick length.

He’s going to cum soon. He strokes it harder, squeezing, he closes his eyes, suddenly imagining your mouth on him instead of his hand, you gagging and choking-

Making a saliva filled, disgusting mess on his cock as you take him deeper in your throat.

“O-Oh fuck mmm- yn can you tell me you love me?”

He suddenly quickly interrupts your rant, “p-please fuckin- just- *pants* tell me you love me okay?”

“Toji darling are you OK? What kind of request is this? I’m literally so angry right now.” You ask him out of concern and that turns him on even more.

“J-Just fuckin tell me shhh…” he strokes himself harder.

“Ugh okay fine. I love you so much.” You angrily grumble and that’s what gets him cumming super hard on his own hands, he keeps cumming as he finally lets out a guttural moan into the phone.

“T-Thank you princess mhmm looks like your remedy worked. Just had a mind blowing orgasm. Now keep ranting.”

He laughs and you’re just so speechless.

[anthophilafalls]

Since I’m a Ford Pines x Reader writer occasionally (ONLY ROMANTIC FLUFF ok) the snow and the ambience of this is too cute I felt inspired to write something, hopefully this is ok with you OP but the imagery is so cute I immediately imagined this happening when Ford steps out into the snow to see how you’re doing after making cookies with Stan & the twins…

- - -

Warning: THIS IS A ONE-SHOT ITS PROBABLY POORLY WRITTEN MY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE

The air was cold and clear, small flecks of snow speckle his large winter coat as he walked up next to you, gazing in wonder of the flurry of snow that now coated Gravity Falls.

Your eyes meet,

“Oh, hi Stanford” you greet him with a smile.

“Greetings y/n” Ford waves before nervously placing both gloved hands in his coat pockets, and turning his gaze away from your eyes.

You’ve seen him hide his hands before, he’s done it ever since you were kids, but this time it felt different. You hear the sound of snow falling around you, like kitten paws on a soft blanket, but the building silence calls for you to say something more.

“How was the Gingerbread house making?” you ask.

“Excellent, though not the most structurally sound structure I’ve devised…”

he responds, briefly meeting your eyes once more.

“Are your hands cold?” you ask, still curious about the speed at which he hid his hands from you.

“No, no they are really warm actually. Mabel designed some near perfectly thermally insulated gloves for me. Her knitting work is magnificent” he says taking a hand out of his pocket, slowly flipping it admiring the pattern on both sides.

“I love to knit too” you respond, “but I should probably offer some of my old yarn to Mabel, considering I don’t do it much”

“She is quite prolific in her craft” he chuckles, remembering how often he’s seen Mabel cross legged in front of the TV surrounded by balls of yarn.

You point to his hand, now once again firmly place in his pocket. “You’re doing that thing again!” you comment lightheartedly

“What thing?” he asks confused checking his shoes for what you might be pointing at.

“Your hands” you giggle, “You know you don’t have to hide them from me, of course if you’re only doing it to be more comfortable don’t mind my observation…”

“Oh, right” He says running one hand through his hair , “I guess it’s a reflex”.

“A reflex from… oh right, I’m sorry” you say, “but I’ve never seen you do it this fast before, at least not in front of me.”

You see his cheeks blush slightly,

“oh.. well you see… I guess it’s because your” he stops himself, “it’s because Cathy Crenshaw” he says with a sigh.

“Cathy Cren- oh that jerk Cathy?!” you pound your fist in your hand.

“yes, I… Well, when I held her hand, she… she cried.” He says, staring to the ground shifting snow with his foot.

“but I wouldn’t c-” you catch yourself. You’ve loved Ford since you were kids, but could there be an actual chance he feels the same way? Darn it, you better not have scared him off almost giving yourself away.

“but you aren’t trying to hold my hand” you correct yourself.

“I guess not” he says, staring once more at his fingers.

“It’s ok, she was a total dweeb anyways. I mean who skips out on the science fair to play polo for free at some mansion” you respond snarkily

He chuckles, phew he isn’t too upset at you bringing this up.

It gets quiet again, the magnificence of your surroundings isn’t lost on you, both staring into the trees.

“Thank you” he says suddenly

“for what?” you ask

“For, for never being repulsed my me”

You glance, a little sadly back at him. why would I ever be? you wonder

“in that case thank you too, I was a weird kid as well, and new. It’s so nice that you and Stan let me join in with you guys, I don’t know who else I would have been friends with otherwise.”

He smiles, and the two of you stare back at the snow frosted forest.

“Winter is beautiful here” you exhale

“not as beautiful as you” he whispers to himself

“what?” you ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach

“I ugh I think I saw a ewe” he stutters, panicked that you might have heard him.

“would be a strange season for that” you respond casually, internally giddy knowing it’s not what he meant.

“haha yes, it might have come from the local petting zoo, or maybe it’s just a trick of light! haha.” he responds, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Hey” you say

“Yes?” he says, cheeks red from both cold and embarrassment

“It’s really fun talking with you” you smile sincerely.

His eyes meet yours and you stare at each other for a moment. After what feels like forever, he opens his mouth.

“Do you, perhaps, want to go back inside? Stan and the kids may be wondering where we are.” He says bluntly.

“Oh, oh yeah. I mean it is getting a little cold.” You respond, slightly disappointed.

“I’ll walk you back” he says, gazing back at you. Slowly, he reaches his hand out toward yours.

“May I?” he asks,

“Of course” you say, as you hold his hand in yours.

It is complete…! :’D I wanted to get these done in December but life happened. Regardless, I’m glad I got to finish at a decent time. Enjoy some lovely Pines Winter bonding :D

[beloveds-embrace]

NORTHERN DUKE KÖNIG STEALING DUCHESS PRICE PT 2 !! Where he finally puts his plans into action and maybe gets a moment alone with the duchess and confesses his feelings and maybe she tells him she's been wanting an escape because she's been trapped in a loveless marriage and has lost hope on John ever loving her so she's 100% on board with his plan. Maybe König even tells her that he doesn't believe in the rumors of her being barren, that he thinks it's John whose infertile only for the duchess to reveal she hasn't slept with John at all and idk maybe Konig becomes angry with how neglected she's been and makes an intense vow to never leave her unsatisfied.. mentally, emotionally, physically 😏.

The garden was silent beneath the heavy cloak of snow, save for the crunch of your boots as you followed Duke König down the winding path. Lanterns lit the walkway, their golden glow casting long shadows against the frost-kissed hedges and frozen roses.

It was beautiful. Quiet. Safe.

But your pulse pounded in your ears. König hadn’t spoken since he’d asked you to walk with him, and the weight of his silence filled the space between you like smoke.

You stopped beside a stone bench, your breath curling in the cold air. “Your Grace?”

He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, his pale blue eyes catching the light and glowing like ice under a full moon. For the first time, you saw something raw there- uncertainty, vulnerability, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface.

“I cannot keep this to myself any longer, Duchess,” He said, voice low and rough.

Your lips parted, but he stepped closer, towering over you with a presence that stole your breath.

“I have tried to resist it,” König continued. “To be honorable, to keep my distance- but it is impossible when every moment apart from you feels like torment.” His gloved hand brushed your cheek, hesitant and reverent, as though he thought you might disappear if he touched you too firmly.

You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity in his gaze.

“Your Grace…”

“Tell me I am not mad,” he pleaded, soft and fervent. “Tell me I am not imagining this connection between us.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, and your throat tightened. “You’re not.” You whispered.

Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, but it didn’t temper the fire in his eyes. He cupped your face with both hands, his calloused thumbs brushing over your skin as if memorizing the very shape of you.

“Then come with me,” he said fiercely. “Let me take you away from all of this.”

Your breath hitched, eyes wide. “You mean… leave John?”

His lips curled in frustration. “A man who does not deserve you,” he snapped. “Who parades you around as a trophy while the world whispers lies about you. Who neglects you so cruelly that you-” He stopped, exhaling sharply as if the thought pained him. “You deserve more.”

You swallowed, your voice trembling. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold back the next words that poured out. How many nights have you spent in the aching loneliness of your bedroom, aware that your husband merely tolerated you out of necessity and nothing else?

“I know.”

König froze, searching your face. “You… know?”

You nodded, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. “I’ve wanted to escape for so long. I just… I didn’t think anyone would ever care enough to take me away.”

His expression twisted, anguished and furious. “Care enough?” he repeated, dangerous. “I would burn kingdoms for you.”

A sob broke from your throat, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him, letting him pull you into the warmth of his embrace. His arms wrapped around you tightly, as if he could shield you from the world. There was something so delightful, so safe, in the way he held you so wholly- hiding you in his arms from all the world.

“But what if the rumors are true?” you whispered against his chest, saying aloud the doubts that have started to take root in your mind from hearing all the rumors swirling about you. “What if I can’t give you the future you want? What if I can’t give you children?”

König pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his hands bracketing your face. “I don’t believe the rumors,” he said firmly. “Not for a second. It is Price who is unworthy- he is the one who has failed you, mein Liebe, not the other way around.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. “He hasn’t failed me because we’ve never even tried.”

König stilled, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

You looked away, ashamed. “We’ve never lain together. Not once.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

König’s hands dropped to his sides, his shoulders trembling with barely contained rage. “Not once?”

You flinched at the venom in his tone, but when you looked back at him, there was no anger directed at you- only heartbreak.

“He’s treated you like this?” König growled. “As though you are unworthy of his attention, his affection? Like a possession to be displayed but never cherished?”

The tears were freely flowing now, and no verbal confirmation was needed.

A guttural sound rumbled in König’s chest, his fury barely leashed. “He has neglected you. Deprived you.” His voice dropped, dangerously soft. “I swear to you, I will never make that mistake.”

You blinked up at him, startled.

He stepped closer, his presence alone overwhelming. “I will never leave you unsatisfied- mentally, emotionally, or physically.” His voice was a vow, sharp and unyielding, not allowing any space for doubt. “You will never have to wonder if you are loved, worshiped.”

The heat in his words sent a shiver down your spine, but you didn’t step away. If anything, you leaned closer, tearful eyes wide.

“Say you’ll come with me,” König urged, his thumb brushing away your tears. “Say you’ll let me take you away from this emptiness and give you the life you deserve. Be my Duchess.”

Your breath caught. This was a horrible decision- you couldn’t imagine what would be said about you, about König, what your parents might do, what John might do-

“Yes.”

König didn’t wait. His lips crashed against yours, fierce and desperate, as though he’d been holding himself back for far too long. You melted into him, clutching at his coat as he deepened the kiss, claiming you with every stroke and sigh.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, and his eyes burned with promise.

“Two days from now,” he said. “I will send that Narr your divorce papers, and I will take you away from this nightmare.”

And for the first time in years, hope bloomed in your chest.

[melminli]

Love To Dream

summary - there was this one girl that thanos really wanted, though, she didn't really want to have anything to do with him. unfortunately, that made him want her even more.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: modern au, mention of drugs, enemies to lovers vibes ig, crack, yearning

a/n: i don't even know what this is tbh but I felt like we all deserved some laughs ;)

Life was good - life was really fucking good, Thanos thought to himself as he winked charmingly at a group of hot girls. They had been looking in his direction for a while now while giggling, clearly interested in him. He continued to watch them as he sipped his drink, the club music pumping through his veins like adrenaline. Thanos's eyes darkened as the girls continued to cast lustful glances in his direction - he knew he could easily get more than one of them into bed tonight and why wouldn't he? It hadn't been long since his last performance on stage, reminding everyone present once again of his legendary status in this club.

However, his attention was focused somewhere entirely else after the most breathtaking person ever decided to walk past him. The pick-up lines he had been thinking of for the group, vanished from his mind after this angel showed up in front of him since the other girls could barely compare. The whole thing looked like something out of a scene from a Kdrama because time seemed to pass in slow motion and your hair was swinging in the air like that of a princess - which would have been the perfect time for some product placement because it just looked so damn soft.

Thanos had his mouth wide open in shock and put a hand over his heart to check if it was still beating while his eyes never left your figure. You - who was leaning prettily against the bar right next to him as you ordered something from the bartender.

“Hey.” he finally recovered from the moment and casually moved towards you. “I'd introduce myself, but I assume you already know me.” he talked to you with his flirty face as soon as you looked up at him.

You smiled shyly. “Yeah, I watched your performance,” you answered him and seemed quite grateful that he was speaking to you right now. “You were pretty good.” you giggled slightly as you complimented him.

“Yeah, that's just how I am.” he sighed as he looked around the room as if it was a burden for him to have to live with all the recognition. His eyes met yours again and he tried to impress you by unpacking a few bars while emphasizing them with the movements of his hands. “Girl, I know you and I are meant to be because after I looked at your pretty face everything stopped being. If only you saw what I can see, you'll understand why I want you so desperately.” he rapped to you, stealing the last line from some One Direction song, but you didn't need to know that.

You shyly put your hands in front of your face to hide your smile. “Oh my god, that was so incredibly sexy, I'm so horny for you right now.” the words came out of your mouth and made Thanos screw up his face weirdly for a second.

Because first of all, those vulgar words didn't match your innocent demeanor in the slightest - and secondly, you said exactly what Thanos had imagined you would say - it was actually a bit creepy since you literally said it word for word. Thanos hardly thought that he could foresee the future all of a sudden or that you could maybe read minds, though he decided to ignore the whole thing as soon as you started touching his chest softly with your hands. He wanted you so bad.

“You don't even know what you're doing to me right now,” he whispered to you while you felt him so sensually and he was about to kiss you, hadn't you stopped his lips with your hand as you laughed into his face. “I think you should wake up now. Otherwise, the pink elephant will keep handing out balloons to people.” You told him, pointing behind him to where the bar was supposed to be.

“Hah?” he asked you confused and turned around while continuing to hold you in his arms, but all he saw were a few dogs breakdancing - and that was nothing out of the ordinary. He continued to look at the scene with a grin, even though some inner voice inside him was stressing out about kissing you immediately as if he was running out of time. He finally turned back to you and was about to continue when he suddenly heard a man speak. “You really should wake up man.” Nam-gyu's voice told him and Thanos only caught himself almost kissing him after he took a closer look. He just pushed him away from him in disgust and then -

Thanos woke up from his sleep, bathed in sweat, when he saw your face in his field of vision. “Finally, you're sleeping like a dead man. There's some guy at the door who wants to talk to you,” you told him as he sat up tiredly while slowly recovering from his strange dream.

That's right. You weren't just some hot girl he met at the club, you were his fucking roommate. Thanos discreetly pushed more blanket over his lap as he tried to shoo you away from his room with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah - I'll be right there, just - give me a moment,” he said without looking you in the face.

You just sighed slightly and complied with his request, though not without letting him know how unhappy you were. “I told you to stop giving our address to these dealers. I don't like it when they show up here,” you grumbled under your breath before dashing out and closing the door behind you.

After that, Thanos let out a very heavy sigh and stroked his face aggressively. “Now she's showing up in my dreams, too? Fucking great.” he grumbled to himself and got up from the bed to put on some decent clothes. His eyes met his own reflection as he pulled a shirt over his head. “Get a grip man, what's wrong with you?” he asked himself as he grimaced in annoyance. “You're Thanos the destroyer, not some kind of -”

“Stop taking so long and come here already!” your voice suddenly shouted, coming through his door slightly muffled.

He looked even more annoyed at that and made his way to the living room while shouting back at you. “I'm fucking on it, alright!” and it only took a few loud steps from him to your front door for him to yank it open to fix the damn problem. He looked at his friend, completely bothered by his presence. “What do you want?” he asked him and was kinda glad that it at least wasn't Nam-gyu because he just really didn't want to see his face at the moment and probably for a little while.

“Hello, to you, too.” the man in front of him greeted him, already used to his weird mood swings. “I just wanted to do you a favor by bringing you some of the pills you wanted because last time you almost beat me up when I didn't have them with me,” he explained, holding the bag, which Thanos grabbed instantly before inspecting it more closely. “Don't act like you didn't deserve it, I paid you the money in advance, man. Of course, I was angry,” he complained again and would probably have beaten him up for real right now if he had ruined his morning over something completely unnecessary. However, he would still have to make sure that something like this didn't happen again so that you didn't have another reason to kick him out of the apartment.

“You know, maybe this was meant to be. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been greeted by an absolute hottie today,” he said happily as he stood there, still interested. “Is she your cousin or something? Do you want to introduce me to her?” he asked and was quite confident in the way he acted, but Thanos just looked at him emotionlessly for a few seconds until he slammed the door in his face.

"Okay, he's gone now!" he exclaimed, bored, and made his way into the kitchen, where you were sitting with a cup of coffee or something while scrolling on your phone. "Don't open the door for that guy if he shows up again," he said, grabbing a cold Sprite from the fridge. You just looked at him with a displeased look. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll make sure that he and no one else shows up after today. But, I'm just saying that in case it still somehow happens."

Thanos then opened the can and drank from it while he continued to watch your face from the side. Eventually, he sat down next to you, although, to his dissatisfaction, that didn't seem to get your attention. "Hey, you want to go on a date?" He asked, and you weren't sure how many times he asked you that by now. You kept scrolling on Instagram. "You know my answer to that."

Thanos continued to grin hopefully. "Yes?" he asked and then watched you disappear out of the kitchen with your cup of coffee in your hand - probably to your room. "You should be glad that I'm even asking you! Other girls would die for..." he muffled towards the end before he stopped talking entirely once he realized that you weren't giving him a reaction.

Maybe, I should just go back to sleep, he thought to himself dejectedly, unable to believe that he had actually better chances with you in dreams with pink elephants and breakdancing dogs.

[citrusipop]

Pagtingin! . hyun-ju

" When I reveal my feelings I hope your opinion of me won't change When I confess my secrets I hope your opinion of me won't change " - patingin by ben&ben

in which . in which Hyun-ju comes back after the events of the game and she happens to bump into her partner who she left without an explanation.

cho hyun-ju x reader (fem) . angst/fluff

based off . ♡

Strolling through the busy streets, you stumbled upon your favorite café. As you stepped inside, you were greeted by the comforting aroma of coffee and vanilla, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. Sweet bossa nova music played softly in the background, blending with the gentle hum of conversations. It was the perfect day to settle down and work in the cozy atmosphere of the café. After ordering your usual coffee and sweet treats, you made your way to a nearby table by the window.

Taking your seat, you gazed out at the bustling street. Sure, it might seem cliché to some—a solitary figure at a window seat in a café—but to you, it was a small joy. The window wasn’t just a pane of glass; it was a lens into the endless stories unfolding outside. Watching strangers go about their lives, you found yourself imagining their worlds. Two girls walked past in school uniforms—you guessed they were high schoolers, maybe around fourteen or fifteen. Your eyes followed a middle-aged man pedaling his bike, his neatly pressed office attire suggesting he worked in accounting or something similar.

It fascinated you how everyone’s lives were so different from your own. Each person outside that window carried a story you’d never fully know, lives that were nothing like yours—boring, miserable, yet oddly peaceful and happy in their own way. And for a moment, watching them, you felt connected to something bigger, as though their differences somehow brought you closer to understanding your own quiet existence.

Your thoughts suddenly come to an end when you hear a group of people laughing next to you. You wish you had your earbuds with you to drown out the sounds but the gods were against you and made you forget to bring it. Wallowing in your sadness, you heard a familiar laugh coming from the table next to you and it made your mind race, turning to the table next to you…

It was her. For a moment, you froze, your breath hitching in your chest. Oh, how you wished this was a dream—because it certainly felt like one. A dream so vivid, so achingly beautiful, that the thought of waking up filled you with dread. But it wasn’t a dream. The world around you blurred and faded, leaving only her, like the central figure in a watercolor painting.

And then you heard it, her laughter. That soft, melodic sound you thought you’d forgotten but never truly could. It was like a gentle breeze carrying fragments of your past, filling you with a bittersweet ache. That laughter brought you back to a time when everything felt lighter, simpler, and whole. Nostalgia crashed into you, raw and unrelenting, pulling at the corners of your heart.

You wanted to move, to say something, but all you could do was sit there, drinking in the moment. That sound, that sight of her—it was a warmth you hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. And for just an instant, you allowed yourself to believe that this wasn’t just a fleeting memory or a trick of your longing mind but something real, something you could hold onto, even if only for a little while.

You hadn’t realized how long your gaze had been fixed on her until you noticed she was looking back at you. Her almond-shaped brown eyes met yours, locking you in place. She gave you a smile like before, but your mind drifted to how beautiful and ethereal she looked as the sun from the window embraced her figure. Her hair was tied neatly into a ponytail, the soft simple makeup making her look beautiful. You felt like you were seeing an angel for the first time, you felt like you were seeing her for the first time. And it made her heart skip a beat. You noticed how she excused herself to her friends and she was now making her way towards your table, quickly you moved your laptop and notepad away, your fingers running through your hair as you fixed it and made it look more presentable. 

“Hi…” Hyun-ju said shyly, looking right at you with a soft smile, you looked up from your notepad and gave her a tight smile. Awkward silence filled the air as the tall woman stood still in front of your table, you took notice and felt bad. You motioned your hand to the empty chair in front of you indicating that she can take that seat. Another set of awkward silence filled the coffee shop, the tension was so thick you felt as if coming to this cafe was a mistake. 

“You look beautiful today.”

The words hung in the air, soft but sincere, making Hyun-ju pause. Her eyes flickered to you, but you avoided her gaze, focusing instead on the cup in your hands. Still, the familiar warmth spread through her chest. Hearing you call her beautiful always meant the world to her. It was a reminder that you saw her, loved her, just as she was. Yet, the pang of guilt was unavoidable. She had walked away without a word, leaving behind questions that she still couldn’t answer.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes caught the faint smile tugging at your lips, and something shifted. A flicker of hope sparked within her, a fragile belief that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to mend what had been broken.

As if on cue, both of you started speaking at the same time, your voices overlapping awkwardly. You exchanged startled glances before bursting into quiet laughter, the sound breaking the tension between you. It was a silly, fleeting moment, but it carried a strange weight. For a second, it felt like you were teenagers again, stumbling through the nerves of a first date. Or perhaps it was just the awkwardness of two people who once knew each other so well, trying to find their footing again.

You stole another glance at Hyun-ju, and the sight of her hit you harder than you expected. The ache in your chest flared up, a sharp reminder of the emptiness her absence had left behind. No matter how much you had tried to fill that void, it had never worked. And now, sitting here with her, you couldn’t help but wonder if that missing piece had always been her.

But words refused to come. Your throat tightened, the lump there stubbornly blocking every thought, every feeling you wanted to voice. The two of you sat in silence, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down. Yet, in the quiet, there was something unbreakable—a connection that time and distance hadn’t erased.

You hear Hyun-ju clear her throat, you glance at her as she says, “I…I miss you, it’s been a while.” It made you smile a bit despite the hurt you were feeling inside, “I miss you too.” You said softly, as your thumb caresses the warm cup of coffee. You never felt this wave of emotions before, something so bittersweet. Sadness and hurt was evident on your face and Hyun-ju can clearly see it. 

Your teary eyes locked with hers. “Funny, isn’t it? It’s been five weeks. Five weeks since I last heard from you.” Your voice wavered, though you tried to mask it with a frown. “And now, here you are, showing up as if nothing happened.” The words came out colder than you intended, laced with the bitterness that had been festering in the void her absence left behind.

Hyun-ju stood frozen, her lips parting slightly as if to speak, but no words came. What could she even say? Would you believe her if she told you the truth? That she had been kidnapped, thrust into a series of deadly games because of her debts and her desperation to complete her transition? That she had watched countless lives end in horrifying ways, the weight of survival pressing down on her with every passing second?

You noticed the flicker of conflict in her expression, and it only fueled your frustration. “Look,” you said sharply, “if you don’t want to deal with this—us—it’s fine. Just say it.” Your voice cracked, but before you could say more, Hyun-ju cut you off.

“Y/N.” Her voice was firm, but there was a tremor in it. “I never said I didn’t want this. Or that I wanted it to be over. You mean too much to me.” Her gaze dropped, her voice softening. “You… you wouldn’t understand. That’s the problem.”

“Understand what, Hyun-ju?” you snapped, your frustration boiling over. “You can’t just show up and expect me to be okay after you disappeared without a word. No call, no text, nothing. Five weeks, Hyun-ju. Five.” Your hands trembled as you clenched them into fists, your voice growing harsher. “Do you know how hard I tried to find you? How much I worried? Don’t tell me I don’t understand when you’re not even telling me what I’m supposed to understand.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, cutting through the fragile tension like a blade. You didn’t want to sound this harsh, but the hurt, confusion, and stress had built up too much to hold back. It wasn’t just the absence that hurt—it was the silence, the unanswered questions, the sense that she had left you in the dark without a second thought.

The tone of your voice cut through Hyun-ju’s heart more deeply than you could ever know. Her chest ached with guilt, the weight of her choices pressing down on her. She had thought leaving without a word was the right thing to do—a way to protect you from the chaos of her life. But now, facing the consequences, she realized how wrong she had been. Immature. Thoughtless.

“I just…” Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper. “I thought you wouldn’t love me anymore… that I’d be a disgrace to you, the way I am to everyone else.” Her words were soft, almost as if she was afraid of saying them out loud, afraid of the weight they carried.

Hearing her broke something in you. You had been so consumed by your own pain, your own confusion, that you hadn’t stopped to see hers. In that moment, you realized it wasn’t just you who had been hurting. She had been carrying her own burden of fear and self-doubt, silently tearing herself apart. And now, her vulnerability was laid bare, raw and trembling in front of you.

“You deserve someone better than me, Y/N,” Hyun-ju whispered, her voice trembling. “You can’t be in a relationship with someone like me—”

Before she could finish, you reached out, gently taking her soft, larger hand in yours. “Stop,” you said firmly, your voice steady but full of emotion. “I don’t care, Hyun-ju. I don’t care about any of that.”

Your thumb gently traced small circles over her hand, grounding both of you in the moment. “I love you for who you are. Every part of you. To me, you’re perfect—the most beautiful woman in the world. And honestly, it amazes me every single day that you chose someone like me to be with you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek as you gave her a soft, heartfelt smile. It wasn’t just your words that spoke—it was the way you looked at her, as if she was the only person in the world who mattered. 

Hyun-ju let out a choked sob, gripping your hand tightly as if you might disappear. “I just… I thought that one day you’d wake up and realize you deserve someone better. That—That you’d see I’m not enough for you because I’m not perfect.” Her voice cracked as tears spilled freely down her cheeks. “This body… this body that I’ve fought so hard for, it’s still not enough. People look at me and see a lie, a joke. I thought maybe one day you’d see me the same way, and it would break me, Y/N. It would destroy me.”

Her words came in waves, each one laced with years of pain and fear. “You deserve someone who doesn’t have to fight to exist. Someone who doesn’t carry the kind of baggage I do. I’ve seen the way people stare at us when we’re together. The way they judge you just for loving me. And I thought… maybe you’d get tired of it. Of me. Of always having to defend me, to fight for me. I thought you’d leave, and I didn’t think I’d survive it.”

Her voice grew softer, trembling as she continued. “You have no idea what it’s like… to constantly wonder if the people who love you will stop when they finally see you for who you really are.”

The raw vulnerability in her words cut through you like a knife. God, it pained you to see her like this. Without hesitation, you rose from your seat and moved to her side. Kneeling down, you gently placed your fingers under her chin, lifting her face so she could meet your gaze.

“Oh, love,” you murmured, your voice soft yet steady. “I will never, ever leave you. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” You brushed away the tears streaming down her face, your touch gentle and reassuring. “You are enough, Hyun-ju. You’re more than enough. You’re the bravest woman I know. You’ve fought battles most people couldn’t even imagine, and you’ve come out stronger every time.”

You gave her a soft smile, hoping it could reach the cracks in her heart. “You’re my Hyun-ju. The one who fills my life with warmth and love. The one who makes those incredible meals so I don’t have to spend a dime eating out. And the one who makes me laugh when I don’t even think I can smile.”

Your thumb stroked her cheek as you looked into her tear-filled eyes. “I don’t care what the world thinks, or what anyone says. I see you, Hyun-ju. I love you. Every single part of you. And nothing, nothing will ever change that.”

In that moment, you weren’t just offering her words—you were offering her a piece of your soul, a promise that no matter what storms came your way, you would face them together.

“I love you, Hyun-ju. All of you. Your body, your personality—everything. I love you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with sincerity.

You leaned in slowly, giving her a moment to meet you halfway. As your lips met hers, the kiss was tender, a gentle melding of emotions rather than just a physical gesture. It was soft but full of meaning, as if you were pouring all the love, reassurance, and devotion you felt into that single moment.

Her lips trembled against yours, and you could feel the faint taste of salt from her tears, but neither of you pulled away. Instead, you cupped her face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the wet trails on her cheeks. She responded hesitantly at first, as though afraid to believe this was real, but then her hands found their way to your arms, holding onto you as though grounding herself in your presence.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads pressed together, her breath mingling with yours. “You’re my everything, Hyun-ju,” you said softly, gazing into her tearful eyes. “Always.”

“I love you too.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her cheek. “How about I buy you that favorite dessert of yours?” you offered, your voice light and filled with affection.

Taking her hand in yours, you gave it a reassuring squeeze before flashing her a smile—one of those rare, genuine smiles that you saved just for her. It was the kind of smile that spoke volumes, one that told her she was cherished, loved, and safe with you.

As you walked out of the café, your gaze lingered on Hyun-ju, unable to help but admire her once more. You silently thanked the gods for blessing you with such a wonderful partner, vowing to do anything for her.

a/n . i told myself I was going to make a part two of mesmerized but I honestly got kind of lazy...and this prompt I could not stop thinking about it. This is my first time writing angst since i'm more of a writer who loves writing tooth rottening fluff....LOL

[beefcake-penguin]

Okay, the "Supercorp AU"-brainrot has me in a death-grip on this one, because now I'm imagining a post-reveal rift, angsty au where Lena just ends the friendship with Kara (without any of the "Project Non Nocere"-nonsense) and decides to just throw herself into her work at L-Corp. And sometime later L-Corp releases a "Siri" or "Alexa"-like virtual assistant app.

With Lena's voice.

And Kara knows it's stupid. She knows it's not really Lena who's greeting her with a cheerful "Good morning, Kara!" when she wakes up and a happy "How was work today, darling?" when she gets home. Kara knows the conversations she's having, the tearful apologies she keeps repeating, the angry venting she gets lost in sometimes, and the sad reminiscing she does (when she has a bit too much alien rum) isn't really being done with Lena. Her Lena.

But this is as close as she can get! And sometimes, when she closes her eyes, Kara can pretend that she's talking to her (former?) best friend again.

But Kara Zor-El Danvers is a genius. And, as she bonds more and more with the virtual assistant speaking in her (ex?) best friend's voice, she starts to hit road blocks here and there that remind her of the limits of this technology. Limits her beloved, genius of a (former?) best friend wouldn't have, if they were really interacting, the way Kara is pretending they are.

The way Kara wishes they were.

And maybe... one night, when her inhibitions are significantly lowered (she's been hitting the alien alcohol a bit to hard lately, she'll admit) and Kara once again hears an uncharacteristic "I'm sorry, Kara. I don't know enough about this topic to contribute to this conversation..." in the voice of the woman she KNOWS has all this knowledge and more...

Maybe...

Kara gets a little grumpy.

And Kara huffs out a breath through her nose.

And another.

"Yes you do, Lena! You know more about this crap than I do!"

"I'm sorry, Kara, but I'm afraid this goes beyond the information stored in my databanks."

And maybe a little lightbulb goes off in Kara's (mildly inebriated) mind: If the databanks are the problem... then maybe...

And, before she can really take a step back and reconsider if this is even a good idea, Kara finds herself in the Fortress of Solitude, plugging "Lena" into the Central Computer Nexus so "she" can interface with it.

And maybe Kara sobers up a little, as she watches the unfathomable amounts of information light up in her little virtual assistant's software. Maybe Kara has a bit of an "Oh... shit"-moment when she hears "Lena"s voice again... and it sounds so much more calm and confident, now. All trace of any "artificiality" in the device's intelligence suddenly gone. The tone of the "Thank you, Kara" that "Lena" greets her with now has suddenly become indistinguishable from the voice of her (ex?) best friend.

Cue the "Lena"-bot going rogue for plot reasons and Kara and the superfriends having to team up to stop it before it accomplishes its new, self-imposed mission...

Because there can be only one "Lena" in Kara's life, after all...

the women in my bluetooth headphones sounds mad at me :(

[wistsandmagic]

No Way Out (Brother I Let You Down)

Welp. I finally caved in to one of the plot bunnies @keferon 's Mecha AU keeps putting in my brain. So here, have some Swindle and Vortex ANGST.

(under the cut because it's over 2k words)

It was the middle of the night. The lights in the hangar were dimmed, the sounds of the skeleton crew that worked as night shift far away in the mechanics’ sector, not on the hangar floor. The mecha stood still in their refuel bays, waiting on the next time the Quintessons attacked, when the alarms would blare and the hangar would become a frantic cacophony of activity.

For now though, things were quiet. Still.

Lonely.

Swindle walked silently across the catwalk strung between the mecha, the smell of oil and gear lubricant seeping into his nose like an old friend's aftershave. He didn't smell that often enough nowadays. Sometimes he missed it.

Sometimes, he thought, turning at a path junction to walk down to one particular mecha's bay, one that towered over everything else in the hangar. Sometimes he just missed the people that the smell accompanied.

No one would have ever guessed that he and Vortex had been close friends. They fought like cats and dogs, always sniping at each other, yelling and picking at each other until Onslaught had to break them up before things got too physical. They'd both ended up in medbay more than once after a fight hadn't been broken up quickly enough. They were the youngest of the group, after all, and so close in age that fights seemed almost inevitable.

Swindle had thought of Vortex as the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother. When he didn't come back from that ill-fated mission...

The former pilot stopped in front of the giant mecha in the bay, the faint hint of old blood adding itself to the scents mingling in his nose. Vortex's mecha always smelled vaguely bloody, though since that young medic-turned-pilot, First Aid, had taken over, things weren't as strong. Swindle thought that might be a good thing. Maybe.

He wasn't one to really believe in ghosts, not in the way people meant. A spirit that haunted the living? Seemed improbable. Ghosts were the memories that lingered when you stared at the things the dead had left behind. The scents that once followed them suddenly wafting through the air, the feel of a missing presence, an ache that never went away. That was a 'ghost'.

But when Swindle stared at the red visor of Vortex's mech – it would always be Vortex's mech to him, no matter who piloted it or for how long – it was all too easy to imagine the other kind of ghost. All too easy to give in to the superstitions surrounding this mecha, to believe that a malevolent spirit haunted it, for all it seemed to at least like First Aid. One pilot it didn't want to kill.  

The visor stared back blankly, and Swindle caught sight of his own reflection, warped and twisted by the thick, bullet-proof plexiglass. Somehow the warped reflection felt more like it was the real him than the him that existed in his own skin, at that moment. All of the stress, the heaviness, the days of lying through his teeth and pretending he cared less than he did, that all he was in things for was the money, that the pilots that came back to base maimed and traumatized didn't matter to him as long as the program got the money needed, that his best friend who couldn't even remember that he was Swindle's best friend was laying in a hospital bed, half of his body burned and his mind in tatters didn't matter beyond his ability to bring in investors...

It was too much. It was just...too much.

"H...hey," he managed, flinching at how much his own voice cracked. Where was the smarmy car-salesman he pretended at being? The smooth operator, the con man? "...Vortex, if...if you're in there, buddy, y'mind? I just..." Tears pricked at the corners of Swindle's eyes, startling him and making him put a hand to his face. Man, he was losing it, wasn't he? "I...I just needed..."

Before he knew it, Swindle found himself slumping to the catwalk floor, his back to Vortex's mech. Knew that if the ghost stories were true, that might not be a good idea, but he'd always trusted his friend. His brother. Saw no reason to stop now. "I miss you, y'know that?" He murmured, trying to stem the flow of tears without letting his voice hitch. "The entire...the entire program's shit. I know we knew that already, but...Vee, it's got so much worse. And here I am...actively promoting the damn thing 'cause we have no other choice. " ...he hadn't called Vortex 'Vee' in years. It was usually "Tex"; that was what Vortex had preferred. Swindle was the only one that could ever get away with calling him Vee without getting punched, even so. Swindle had reserved it for special occasions, knowing he held privilege. Now seemed like as good a time as any. Vortex wasn't there any longer to half-heartedly gripe at him for the affectionate diminutive.

That didn't make it better.

Swindle leaned his head back until it thunked against the catwalk railing, letting him stare up from behind his rose-tinted glasses toward the ceiling, heedless of the tears streaming down his face. "I dunno what to do to stop it, Vee. You were always the one c-coming up with the harebrained schemes that somehow worked. You always were smarter than I am, just damn crazy. We worked so good together, like brothers, you 'n me." He laughed mirthlessly, a shaking hand coming up to cover his face as he sobbed, unable to stop himself. "...though guess I'm probably the crazy one now, h-huh. Talkin' to your mech like somehow you c-can hear me through it. Like you're gonna act like my crazy older brother again and somehow tell me this's all gonna work out in the end, and I'm not a heartless monster for doin' this, goin' along with this shit."

He didn't pay attention to the faint nudging at his side at first, figuring it was just the edge of the railing digging into his ribs. When the touch became more insistant, however, he looked down, blinking away tears. Only to stare dumbly at the very large fingertip pressed ever so gently against his side. His breath caught, and for a moment Swindle couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't move, because that was the hand of Vortex's mech, his index finger pressed almost lovingly to Swindle's side, rubbing up and down very slightly now that Swindle was actively paying attention. Almost as if it were trying to comfort him.

Dashing tears from his eyes with the back of one hand, Swindle switched his attention from the massive finger at his side to the head of the mech beside him, expecting to see First Aid curled up inside the cockpit controlling things. But no, the cockpit was empty, the faint lights inside just enough to let him see through the visor before everything flared to life, the visor turning bright and opaque as the mech's head turned slowly to look directly at Swindle.

He'd spent years pretending there was no such thing as ghosts, hating that Vortex's mech killed pilots, but refusing to believe it was anything other than glitches. To say otherwise would be having to say that something of his friend, his brother, still lingered, and Swindle couldn't help him. Now, though, he couldn't deny it. He could feel Vortex there, staring at him through the mech, through that red visor so much like Vortex's own remembered helmet. He blinked as the sound of soft static filled the air, a mechanical text-to-speech voice whispering through the speakers embedded in the mech's head. "Swindler, c'mon now. You never were one for tears, little bro."

If...if Vortex intended that to stop Swindle from crying, it had the exact opposite effect. Sure, the voice was mechanical, it sounded off, but that was still, somehow, Vortex's voice, and Swindle hadn't heard it outside of old recordings for far too long. He shakily got to his feet, one hand covering his mouth to muffle himself while the other scrabbled frantically for Vortex's finger, any and all fears about the rogue mecha deciding to crush him into paste fleeing from his mind in his desperation to have some part of Vee touching him. Only Vortex ever called him "Swindler". Only Vortex ever called him little bro.

"A...are you really in there, Vee?" Even to Swindle's own ears he sounded pathetic. Not like himself at all. It was the stress. It had to be the stress. That was the only explanation.Maybe he was crazy. Maybe watching Blurr almost die was the final straw that broke him, and now he was headed for the looney bin as soon as someone found him. Damn. But hearing Vortex's voice, even distorted by machinery, coming from his mech, broke something inside Swindle's soul, and grief came pouring out whether he wanted it to or not.

Again that soft static, again that voice. "In the figurative flesh, Swindler." Somehow it even managed to retain Vortex's characteristic croon, the way he only spoke to those he actually liked, not the bitten-off snark of those he tolerated, or the open hiss to those he actively hated. Vortex carefully raised his hand over the railing, making Swindle step back a pace, and lowered a couple of his fingers, beckoning carefully. "C'mere. Can't hug you, know you need it, but c'mere anyway." Swindle should have thought twice. Every protocol to do with Vortex – the mech, not the long-dead person – screamed about caution and wariness. But this was Vortex. The person, not the mech. Crazy, full of bloodlust, stay out of his way on the battlefield, don't make him hate you, sure, but above all else he was Swindle's mech partner, his brother, his friend closer than a brother. The one who always had his back on and off the battlefield, in ways Onslaught never could.

He stepped into Vortex's hand without hesitation, trembling hands coming down to help hold himself steady as Vortex's fingers and thumb gripped him in a hold too gentle to come from a mech's default pilotless programming. He saw the visor open, and before he knew it he was deposited gently inside, warm air that smelled vaguely of vanilla – had First Aid hung an air freshener somewhere? – already wafting through the cockpit.

The speakers crackled to life. "Find a seat, little bro." Cabling hissed out of hidden apertures, operating oddly like hands and arms as they found Swindle, pulled him in closer to the emergency jumpseat off to the side of the pilot's seat, designed for maintenance and a place to stretch if trapped in the cockpit for too long, pulling it out from the wall and ushering Swindle to sit. Like Vortex knew Swindle couldn't bring himself to sit in the pilot's seat of a mech that didn't belong to him, that still belonged to Vortex, even if First Aid was 'sharing' it now.

"Vee..." "Hush." The voice was rough, kindness having always been oddly difficult for Vortex to manage, always making him sound like he was angry at himself for daring to show any kind of humanity. That was the case now, of course. Death hadn't changed some things. A lot of things. Still, Vortex's cabling wrapped gently around Swindle once he sat, draping over his shoulders and snaking across his lap like one of Vortex's annoying full-body hugs that had always been so good simply because of their rarity, even if he had to be drunk to give them. The thought made Swindle want to tear up all over again, grief and stress radiating off of him even as he reached out to brush over one of the cables, feeling unseen eyes watching him as he did his best to gather himself, unable to feel any fear for the faint malevolent presence that surrounded him, because he knew that malevolence wasn't directed at him. It never had been."I...you didn't come back," Swindle whispered, swallowing to try and keep his voice steady. "You died, Vee, and everything else went to hell after. It's only gotten worse now, and I...I didn't...I didn't even know you were still in here. You died."

"Yeah, I died. But. Still here, little bro. Got me a good pilot now that I like, finally, but I'm still here." Vortex's voice softened a little, in ways that would make almost anyone who knew him before his death stare at him like he'd lost even more of his marbles. Nobody ever really got to see this side of him other than the one pilot in their group who was younger than him; Swindle had been the only one to deserve the softness he was capable of, and even then only in secret. "Can't get rid of me that easily. I still got your back, y'know?" The cables wrapped around Swindle tightened slightly, reiterating Vortex's point and enclosing him in just that little bit of security. A hug from his dead friend, who was not entirely dead, and always closer to being more than even a brother would have been.

"Okay Swindler. Let's talk, you'n me. Let's come up with a plan. I'm here, little bro." "Always will be."

[h3r4life]

✧ OVERCOMING THE FEAR OF SHIFTING: IT’S MORE COMMON THAN YOU THINK

✵ UNDERSTANDING THE FEAR. The fear of actually shifting to your DR is such a sneaky block because it’s not something we expect to feel. Like, you’re doing all this work (visualizing, affirming, scripting, etc) and yet deep down, you might be scared of actually getting what you want. It’s wild, but it makes sense when you break it down.

✵ WHY SUCCESS MIGHT FEEL SCARY.

— Even if you’ve visualized your DR a million times or planned your DR down to the last detail, but actually being there is a completely new experience. What’s it actually going to feel like to be there? What if things don’t go how you imagined? That uncertainty can trigger a lowkey (or not so lowkey) fear.

— Success comes with its own pressure. Once you shift, it’s easy to start overthinking. What if I can’t do it again? What if it’s not what I expected? That “what if” spiral can get overwhelming. And that might create a fear of succeeding.

— Even if you don’t love your CR, it’s still comfortable because it’s familiar. Leaving behind parts of it, even if it’s just for a short amount of time, (people, routines, or even just your identity in this reality) can feel heavier than you realize.

— What if your DR doesn’t live up to the dream? What if it’s not perfect? That fear can make success feel risky, and your brain might unconsciously try to avoid it altogether.

✵ HOW THIS FEAR MESSES WITH YOU. This fear doesn’t usually scream “I’m scared to succeed!” It shows up in subtle ways like procrastinating, feeling “stuck,” constantly tweaking your script, overthinking your method, or second-guessing yourself. It’s like your mind is putting up invisible walls without you even realizing it.

✵ WHY PEOPLE DON’T TALK ABOUT IT. This fear gets ignored because it feels backwards, like why would you be scared of getting what you want? Plus, in the shifting community, everyone’s so focused on HOW to shift, they don’t always talk about the emotional side of it. It’s easier to think you’re just “doing it wrong” than to realize you might be holding yourself back.

✵ HOW TO GET PAST IT.

— Acknowledge it. The first step is being honest with yourself. Ask, Am I scared of actually shifting to my DR? Once you see it for what it is, it’s easier to work through.

— Instead of obsessing over the moment you shift, think about how you’re going to feel and thrive once you’re there. Build that excitement so it outweighs the fear.

— Remind yourself you’ve got this. You’ve done the work, and you’re capable of handling whatever comes up in your DR. Affirmations like “I’m ready for this” or “I trust myself” really help.

— Your DR doesn’t have to be perfect for it to be worth experiencing. Give yourself room to explore and grow. Nothing has to be set in stone.

— Shifting doesn’t have to be some huge, dramatic moment. Every step (big or small) you take is progress, so don’t psych yourself out by making it feel bigger than it is.

✵ FINAL THOUGHTS. So yeah, fear of success is real, but it doesn’t have to stop you. The key is recognizing it for what it is and deciding it’s not going to hold you back. You’ve already done the hard part by getting this far, trust that you’re ready for what’s waiting on the other side.

[st44rkeys]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

rafe cameron imagine

pairings: assassin rafe cameron x assassin fem!reader

wc: 17,930..... wow

a/n: please keep in mind english isnt my first language, there might be some mistakes, and this is my first published imagine, enjoy! taglist is open

warnings: guns, mentions of human trafficking & kidnapping, murder

part 1 , part 2

“Nice shot, baby" JJ’s voice echoes through your earpiece, his usual teasing tone almost too loud. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself to your feet.

“Focus, JJ" you snap, glancing to your left. There he is, perched on the rooftop with his sniper, looking far too relaxed for your liking. “You almost hit me last time.”

He lets out a dramatic sigh, almost pouting. “It was one time" he protests, the hint of a grin in his voice.

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at his antics. “And I nearly lost my head because of it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a flicker of movement a shadow darting across the ground. Without hesitation, you drop into position, your aim steady as you squeeze the trigger. The man crumples to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Kie, rooftop, now" you order, your voice calm but firm. A second later, Kie responds, her voice crackling through your earpiece. “I’m almost there.”

You scan the area, eyes sharp, looking for any other potential threats. With a quick motion, you pull a fresh magazine from your pocket and load it into your gun.

One last check: Opening your vest, you verify that the USB is still securely in place. A satisfied smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you close it back up. This was almost too easy.

“I found this too” Kie says, handing you a stack of documents, her eyes darting around checking for anyone who might be watching.

You flip through the pages, gaze intense as you skim the information. It’s all there details about the cities where the drug shipments are headed.

“This is useful" You mutter, your voice low, passing the papers back to her. “A whole bunch of amateurs, just a few men… but the security? Absolutely trash.”

A dark chuckle escapes me as I shake my head in disbelief. The curly haired lets out a laugh, her tone mocking as she shakes her head. “That’s what happens when you’re too busy sniffing coke. No brains left.”

A sharp punch slams into Rafe’s jaw, snapping his head back. Fuck, that hurt. He stumbles slightly, his teeth gritted as he touches the throbbing spot. Eyes narrowing, he looks up at the man in front of him.

“You almost dislocated my jaw" Rafe scoffs, his voice low with controlled fury.

The man blinks, a strange look crossing his face. He drops his gun, clearly confused. “Man, I’m supposed to kill you-”

Rafe doesn’t give him a chance to finish. With a swift motion, he kicks the shorter man square in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. In one fluid movement, he grabs the fallen gun and shoots the man in the head, silencing him instantly.

“Rafe you asshole!” his sisters voice rings out, sharp. Rafe winces, feeling the sting even though he knows he doesn’t need to hear that right now.

She storms up to him, her eyes flashing with frustration. “You left me there alone with five guys!” Without warning, she slaps his arm with force, though he doesn’t budge, his expression calm and unfazed. He rolls his eyes, more annoyed than anything.

“I knew you could handle it Sarah" he says coolly, his voice laced with a hint of indifference, though he can’t help but smirk slightly. He walks past her, gliding his fingers along the edge of a painting hanging on the wall. A soft click sounds, and with a subtle tug, a hidden safe case is revealed. Bingo.

“You’re unbelievable” Sarah mutters, crossing her arms, her frustration still lingering, but it’s clear she’s not surprised anymore. She’s used to his way of doing things, even if she doesn’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” Rafe says, finally acknowledging her, but it’s more out of habit than genuine remorse. He doesn’t feel bad he never does. “I had things under control.”

"I was with Topper"

Rafe looks at her, smirking. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that" he replies

Before Sarah can snap back at him, the door swings open, and Topper walks into the room, his voice booming as he enters. “Hey! I heard that!”

Rafe grabs the stack of documents and hands them over to Topper with a quick, efficient motion. “Okay, we’re pretty much done here" he says, securing his gun back into its holster with a casual ease that comes from years of practice.

Sarah groans in exaggerated exhaustion. “I swear, I need at least a week of vacation after this” she mutters, rubbing her temples.

"We’re lucky if we get two days” Topper laughs “I’m calling Kelce. Let him know we’re ready to head out.”

Rafe nods in acknowledgment as he starts walking toward the door, already mentally shifting gears for whatever’s next. His phone buzzes in his pocket, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. With a heavy sigh, he pulls it out, glancing at the screen. It’s a call he’s not exactly eager to answer, but he does anyway.

“Agent 003, we have an urgent meeting” the voice crackles through your earpiece, firm. You pause, your fingers momentarily halting on the wire of the earpiece.

“I’ll be there immediately” Rafe replies, his tone steady as he checks his watch, his focus never wavering.

The voice on the other end remains calm. “Please don’t be late, Agent 504.”

You exhale, methodically closing the case with a soft click, the task done. “Understood” you mutter, adjusting your suit and stepping into the shadows with practiced ease.

"Fucking hell"

You glance over at Pope, your expression thoughtful. “I don’t know" you say, voice steady as you adjusted the strap of your gear. “He just said it was urgent.”

Pope studies you for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. You stop in front of the boss’s office, and he shruggs, trying to make light of the situation. “Probably a solo mission for you?” he suggests, though the uncertainty lingered in both of you. If it was a solo mission, you knew you'd be allowed to call for backup if things went south, but the fact that Wes specifically ordered you to come alone didn’t add up.

You lean against the wall, lips curling into a small, confident smile. “What if I’m getting fired?” you tease

The taller man chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the best agent here. He’d be insane to fire you.”

You met his gaze, your eyes glinting with quiet assurance. “Exactly. But hey, I’ll humor him. Let’s see what this is all about.”

With one last nod to him, you straighten up, pushing open the door with a calm, steady hand. 

As you step into the room, you immediately sense the tension in the air. Your boss, Wes, glances at you with his usual neutral expression, though something in his eyes tells you he’s anticipating this moment. You raise an eyebrow, noting the two men sitting in front of him. 

The bulkier figure catches your attention first. He’s about your age. The bulletproof vest he’s wearing suggests he’s just come back from a mission, much like you. The other man, however, is a stark contrast older, his demeanor exuding authority, and his expensive suit immediately stands out. The Versace logo on his cuff subtly gleams under the office lights.

Strange

You give a curt nod to your boss. “Sir"

You nod toward Wes as you move closer, his gaze never leaving you. But just as you’re about to sit, you hear the two men turn, and your eyes immediately lock onto one particular face, Rafe Cameron

If you were in a cartoon, smoke would probably be billowing from your ears in pure rage. Without thinking, your hand flies to your gun, fingers wrapping around the cold steel, your grip instinctive. The moment it’s drawn, Rafe smirks infuriatingly, as if he’s enjoying every second of this. And he is. It’s been a year since he last saw you since that mission.

Was he pissed at Shoupe for not telling him he’d be in a meeting with you and Genrette? Absolutely. But the truth was, Rafe wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. Whatever this meeting was about, he knew one thing for sure: he was going to enjoy pushing your buttons.

“Agent 003, that’s enough. Put the gun down" your boss says sternly, immediately rising to his feet, his eyes flicker briefly toward the weapon in your hand before meeting yours, an unspoken warning. But your gaze doesn’t leave Rafe.

You stand your ground, eyes still fixed on the blond man. “Why are they here?” The question slips out, low and venomous, as your gun remains trained on him.

Rafe’s smirk only deepens as he leans back casually, his posture a picture of relaxed confidence. “You heard him angel” he says, his voice dripping with a tone that gets under your skin, raising an eyebrow. “Put the gun down.”

“Lower your gun, little girl" Shoupe warns, his tone sharp. You glare at him, biting back the urge to shoot him right then and there. His eyes lock onto yours, daring you to make the first move. But before you can respond, Wes steps in, his movement swift and decisive.

“Careful how you speak to her Shoupe” Wes says, his voice calm yet firm as he moves toward you, his presence commanding.

Shoupe doesn’t back down, his posture stiffening. “I’ll talk however I want until she lowers that gun" he snaps, his gaze cold. “She’s aiming it at me and my agent.”

You scoff, the smirk curling at the corner of your lips. Without missing a beat, you tilt the barrel of the gun in his direction. “Be glad I didn’t—”

“That’s enough” Wes cuts you off, his grip closing around your wrist as he pulls the gun from your hand. His glare is icy, a warning in his eyes. You huff in frustration, turning your gaze elsewhere, but the tension in the room lingers, thick and unresolved. 

"Sit"

You throw a sharp glare at your boss before sinking into the opposite couch, the tick of the clock in your mind growing louder with every passing second.

What the hell are they doing here? Did Wes fall and hit his head? Has he forgotten everything that went down between him and Shoupe? Forgotten what Rafe did to John B?

“Okay, so…” Wes clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the present. “Now that everything’s settled, we can start the meeting.”

At his words, Rafe scoffs, the sound grating against the tense silence in the room. You immediately lock eyes with him, your glare sharp and unforgiving. Rafe’s gaze meets yours, his expression hardening as he returns the glare with even more intensity. 

To Rafe, you were nothing more than a nuisance. Sure, you were a hardworking agent one of the best, no doubt. And probably the only female agent who could kick his ass if the circumstances were right. Probably.

But that didn’t change the fact that you were the most infuriating person he’d ever met. You always had been. The way you carried yourself, the way you pushed back against everything he did, made every interaction with you a chore.

The rivalry between you two had always been there friendly" competition, or so he told himself. But after the last time he saw you, after everything that went down, the animosity had doubled, becoming something more venomous. There was no pretending anymore. But the agencies you both worked for were rivals as well, and that certainly didn’t help matters.

Wes grabs the remote from his desk, pressing a button with practiced precision. The large screen behind him flickers to life, displaying the image of a man in a tailored suit. His white hair is combed neatly, and he wears an air of confidence, the kind cultivated by years of wealth and power. A faint smirk plays on his lips, a watch glints on his wrist, the kind that costs more than most people’s salaries. You and Rafe exchange a brief glance, both of you narrowing your eyes at the image now on display.

“Bojan Banović" Shoupe begins, his tone laced with contempt. He moves closer to the screen, gesturing toward the man’s photo. “A billionaire businessman. Known for his luxury resorts, casinos, and shipping companies. He’s celebrated by the media, even awarded for his supposed philanthropy.”

Rafe’s glare hardens as he studies the image, his brow furrowing in concentration. “I’ve never heard of this man before.”

You almost respond with a quick same, but something stops you pride, maybe. You bite back your words, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of agreement. Instead, you glance at Wes, raising an eyebrow in question.

“But beneath that polished image" Wes says darkly, stepping forward, “he’s one of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He funds his empire through drug trafficking, murder, and theft. And worse—” he pauses, his eyes flicking to you and Rafe, “he’s the head of one of the largest human trafficking rings in Europe.”

You lean back in your seat, making yourself more comfortable, but your eyes remain locked on the screen, absorbing every detail.

Wes clicks another button, and the screen changes to a collage of news articles, missing persons posters, and headlines. The photos of victims—young women and girls—flash before your eyes.

Rafe shifts in his seat, scanning the names and faces displayed in grim succession. His stomach churns as the realization hits him like a punch to the gut.

Ashley Simon - 22. Demitra Galanis - 30. Angela Bruno - 17. The numbers blur together: 45, 28, 14, 19, 35…

And then his eyes catch on the youngest victim: 8 years old.

A wave of disgust washes over him, sharper and colder than anything he’s felt before. His jaw tightens, his hands balling into fists as he stares at the screen, the weight of the crime sinking deeper with every passing second.

You glance at the two older men, hesitating for a moment before asking the question weighing heavily on your mind. “Does he sell them?”

Wes exhales sharply, already anticipating the inquiry. His expression tightens. “If the price is high enough” he admits, his voice grim. “But more often, he uses them for prostitution in his casinos, for his personal entertainment, for his men.”

A cold shiver runs down your spine. The bile rises in your throat, and for a moment, you genuinely think you might be sick.

"This" Shoupe adds, pointing to the screen, “is why he’s untouchable. His wealth and reputation protect him. No one questions the man throwing extravagant charity galas and hosting international leaders on his private island.”

You exhale slowly, closing your eyes for a brief moment as Shoupe’s voice cuts through the tension. “This man is extremely dangerous” he says, his tone heavy with warning.

Rafe scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he leans back slightly. “Yeah, I gathered that much” he says dryly before pausing, his sharp gaze flicking between you and Wes. “But what I don’t get is" he stops, his brow furrowing as he glances back at Shoupe. “Why are we here, exactly? What’s the play?”

The room falls silent for a beat, the air thick with unspoken tension as both bosses exchange a look.

Wes clears his throat, his tone careful but firm. “VORAX and NOCTUS aren’t exactly known for their… collaborative efforts.”

You roll your eyes, shooting a sharp glare at the two unwelcome men across the room. “You can say that” you mutter, your voice dripping with disdain.

The glare is returned in full force.

Wes shifts uncomfortably, sending you a silent plea to keep it together. “Shoupe and I discussed this extensively” he begins “Given the magnitude of this threat, we’ve decided it’s in everyone’s best interest to cooperate-"

A sharp laugh escapes you, cutting through the room like a blade. The three men turn to stare, but you’re too busy shaking your head. “Cooperate? Really? That’s rich Wes.”

When no one joins in, your laughter dies quickly. You narrow your eyes at your boss. “You’re joking right?”

Rafe who had been reclining slightly, suddenly straightens in his seat, his expression hardening. “Hate to admit it but I agree" he says, his voice dripping with distaste. His hand gestures vaguely toward you and Wes without even sparing you a glance. “NOCTUS has the resources—agents, firepower, tech. Why the hell do we need them?”

The word them rolls off his tongue like poison, his gaze finally snapping to you, full of disgust.

You toss your hair behind your shoulder, your gaze sharp as a knife as you look at your boss. The last thing you want is to even glance at Rafe’s smug face. “Took the words right out of my mouth" you sneer. “We don’t need them. My team can handle this alone.”

“Listen-" Wes starts, his tone clipped, but before he can finish, Rafe cuts in.

“Shoupe, I don’t get it" Rafe says, his voice cold as he leans forward, completely ignoring you. “Me and my team can take this guy down immediately. We don’t need to waste time babysitting.”

“Quiet, please-”

“Your team?” you snap, standing up and turning toward him. Your voice is sharp, rising with every word. “The same team that sabotages everything they touch? You don’t have the qualities to pull this off.”

Rafe’s head jerks up at your words. He stands to face you, his eyes blazing. “You’re talking about my team?” His voice rises, practically a growl as he steps closer, closing the gap between you. “Look at yours. You failed as a leader! One of your people got injured because of you.”

“Because of you!” you shout back, taking another step forward until you’re inches apart, practically nose to nose. Your breaths come fast and heavy, the heat of your anger meeting his.

“Quiet!” Wes shouts, slamming his hand down on the desk so hard the sound echoes through the room.

Both of you freeze, the tension crackling like a live wire. The glare you throw at Rafe could burn through steel, but Wes’s commanding tone forces you to step back. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

“You’re adults" Wes growls, looking between you and Rafe with equal disdain. “For god’s sake, act like it!”

You scoff, crossing your arms and turning your gaze to the corner of the room, refusing to look at Rafe any longer.

Rafe shifts back as well, his movements stiff and deliberate. His lips twitch into a faint smirk, clearly unbothered, or at least pretending to be.

“This is a serious matter" Shoupe calls out, his voice firm “Leave this petty feud behind and act like professionals. We’re talking about people’s lives here, and yet, all you’re doing is engaging in childish arguments.”

We fall into silence. You glance back at Rafe, his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the floor. Meanwhile, you tap your foot impatiently.

"I'll inform the team then, and we’ll schedule a meeting to discuss the plan-”

“There’s no need for your team" Shoupe interrupts, cutting you off. You glance at him, confused.

“They’ll be informed, but they won’t be exactly involved. You two will handle this… from a distance.”

Rafe exchanges a quick look with you, the weight of the words sinking in. His voice is thick with doubt. “Wait you want us to do this alone? Just the two of us?”

Shoupe’s gaze sharpens, but his tone remains calm. “Yes. Your teams won’t be there. The fewer people involved, the better.”

The silence between you two hangs thick, and the idea of tackling this alone feels like a far reaching risk.

“But why?” you finally ask, your frustration bubbling up. “This isn’t a solo mission. We work with our teams.”

Wes sighs, standing up from his desk and walking toward the window. His back is turned, but you can see his posture stiffen. “Because it has to be you two. No distractions. No room for error.”

Rafe runs a hand through his messy hair, frustration clear in his movements. “So, you expect us to just walk in there with no backup?”

Wes turns to face both of you, his expression serious, but the words that follow catch you off guard. “You’ll be going in as… a newlywed couple.”

At the announcement, the room falls into a tense silence. You don’t even need to glance at Rafe to know his reaction, it’s the same as yours. A mixture of disbelief and frustration, an almost palpable tension hanging in the air.

“Can I talk to you Wes?” You say, voice low, but there’s no mistaking the firmness in your tone. It’s not a question. Without waiting for a response, you stride towards the adjacent room, all but slamming the door behind you.

Once inside, you run your hands over your face, a long, steadying breath escaping your lips. This can’t be happening. This has to be some kind of cruel joke, a bad dream you can’t wake up from.

“Listen…” Wes starts, entering the room behind you.

You turn to face him, frustration evident in your eyes. “Wes, what the hell?” You snap. “A couple? Really?”

“Look, I know this is hard for you” Wes says, his voice soft, the words carefully chosen.

You scoff, rolling your eyes in disbelief. “Yeah it is. Do you even know who you paired me with?” The irritation in your voice is impossible to hide. You could hardly believe it yourself, let alone face the reality of it.

Wes’s expression falters for just a moment, and he runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident. “I get it, believe me. I don’t like working with them either" he admits “But this… this is the only option we have. Trust me I thought about this a lot-.”

You cross your arms, still fuming. “So, this is the best you could come up with? A newlywed cover? You really think we can pull this off?”

Wes sighs heavily, his posture slumping slightly as if the weight of the situation is beginning to sink in. “I know it’s not ideal. But we don’t have a choice. This mission… it’s too high stakes. We need someone who can blend in, someone who won’t raise suspicion.”

Your eyes narrow as you stare at him, waiting for the next part.

Finally, Wes meets your gaze directly. “You are one of the best agents I have, and I’ve seen you handle worse situations. I’m not doubting your abilities.” He pauses, then reluctantly adds "And as much as it kills me to say it… Cameron is one hell of an agent too.”

You exhale sharply, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. “So, what? You’re asking me to just trust him? After he sabotaged our mission and John B got hurt? He's the reason why John B is stuck in the van, helping Pope with hacking instead of coming with us on missions”

"That's another conversation" Wes stands taller, his face softening as he takes a step closer to you. “I’m asking you to work with him. Not because I think it’ll be easy, but because this is bigger than your personal issues. I know you don’t like him, and frankly, I don’t either. But we need to focus on the mission.”

You feel the tension rise in the room, the mix of anger and apprehension swirling in your chest. It’s not just the mission you’re worried about. It’s the risk, the consequences of working so closely with someone you’ve hated for so long. But, deep down, you know Wes is right, this isn’t about personal grudges. It’s about getting the job done.

In the dimly lit office, the tension is thick as Rafe shifts his gaze from the desk to Shoupe, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He leans against the doorframe with an exasperated sigh, looking at his boss with disbelief. “Really?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, and his eyes betray his frustration.

Shoupe, unphased by the accusation in Rafe’s voice, rubs his neck, clearly trying to find the right words. “I know you’re mad” he says, his voice carrying a hint of weariness. It’s evident he’s used to dealing with Rafe’s attitude , but even he knows this situation isn’t going to be easy to handle.

“Mad?” Rafe scoffs, throwing a short laugh into the air as he starts to pace, unable to stand still for long. His anger builds with each step, a mixture of frustration and disbelief. “That’s an understatement, Shoupe. I can’t believe this is how we’re handling this.”

Shoupe doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he simply watches Rafe, hands in his pockets, his expression solemn. Finally, he sighs deeply. “Look, I get it" he begins, his voice level but firm. “I really do. This isn’t ideal. I didn’t want to pair you with—”

“Don’t even say it" Rafe interrupts, shaking his head. “You know I work alone. I don’t need anyone else slowing me down, especially.." He gestures vaguely as if trying to find the words, but he can’t quite bring himself to say it aloud. “Especially her" he finally mutters, bitterness coating his words.

Shoupe cuts him off before he can go further. “I know you can do things alone” he says, his tone calm but resolute. “But this isn’t about what you can handle on your own. This mission is different. You need to be strategic, and you need support, even if it’s someone you’d rather not have around.”

Rafe stops pacing and turns to face Shoupe, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t need anyone" he says, a little more forcefully this time, though a flicker of doubt crosses his expression. “This is my territory. I know the layout, I’ve done similar operations before, and I can finish this on my own.”

His boss takes a step forward, his posture more authoritative now, and speaks with quiet conviction. “I’m not doubting your abilities, Rafe" he says, voice steady. “But this mission? It’s a delicate operation. There’s no room for mistakes. You won’t be able to handle it the way you normally do. This requires a level of finesse, of precision, that you can’t achieve alone.”

Rafe’s jaw clenches at the words, but deep down, he knows Shoupe has a point. His usual approach, fast, aggressive, and straightforward might not be enough for this one. But the thought of working with someone else, especially you, gnaws at him.

He sighs heavily, as he leans against the wall, trying to collect his thoughts. “This is insane" he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.

Shoupe doesn’t back down, his voice still calm but unwavering. “We’re in this together, Rafe"  he says, locking eyes with him. “This isn’t just about the mission anymore. This is about saving lives. And for that, we need to adapt. You might not like it, but you’ll have to trust me on this one.”

The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the roo. You sat on the couch, staring straight ahead, your posture rigid, while Rafe remained leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a brooding silence hanging in the air between you.

“Alright” Shoupe’s voice broke through the tension, steady and commanding. “Before we dive deeper into the plan, I need to know. Are you both alright with this mission?” He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning each of you carefully. “Not because of your… personal issues" he continued, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary “but because this is a dangerous one. You’re going in alone. No backup.”

You glanced at Rafe then, catching his piercing blue eyes. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The tension between you was palpable, but there was an understanding there, unspoken but clear. With a small nod, you acknowledged that you were in this, whether you liked it or not.

Rafe’s gaze remained locked with yours for a beat longer before he too, gave a brief nod.

Shoupe’s shoulders relaxed a little, though the weight of the situation still hung heavy in the air. “That’s settled then" he said, clapping his hands together in a finality that cut through the tension. He moved toward his briefcase, unzipping it with deliberate precision, pulling out a stack of files. The seriousness of the moment was evident in the way he handled each paper, the sense that every detail mattered now more than ever.

You open the file, and your eyes immediately lock onto the photo of yourself. The image had been altered, your natural hair now dark black, and your face slightly smoothed out. Your fake name was printed boldly in red letters at the top.

Jane Stark, age 30, birthday 05.10.1995. Born in Michigan, working as an art advisor.

You let out a slow breath, trying to mask the sudden discomfort. Hello Jane Starkey

“Why did you age me so much?” Rafe’s voice cuts through the silence as he looks at his own file. “36—I’m 33.”

You glance at him, catching the slight furrow of his brows. For a moment, you wonder if he’s actually irritated or if he’s just being his usual cocky self. But before you can say anything, Shoupe speaks.

“You’ll live” Shoupe says with a dismissive roll of his eyes, clearly not bothered by the details.

“Live? You aged me three extra years" he shoots back.

You close the file with a snap, your fingers itching to throw the whole thing across the room. This is ridiculous. You think, but there’s no point in arguing anymore. You weren’t going to change anything now.

Wes gestures towards the two of you, his fingers pointing sharply at the files in his hands. “Drew and Jane, Mr. and Mrs. Starkey" he says, flipping open the folder. “Rafe, you’re a luxury estate developer. And you,” he looks at you  “work as an art advisor”

Wes continues “You can pick the story however you like. Maybe you met through a mutual friend, or at a musem, whatever fits. The important part is that you’ve been dating for several years, and this year, you decided to get married.”

You catch Rafe’s eyes, and an awkward silence hangs between you both, a challenge in itself. Married? You think, but stay silent. This is going to be more complicated than just pretending.

“Your acting has to be flawless” Shoupe warns his tone sharp. “Bojan’s no fool. One small mistake, and he’ll catch it. His men too. So, you need to be vigilant, at all times.” He locks eyes with both of you, his gaze unwavering. “One slip-up could ruin everything.”

“Do you hear that Mrs. Starkey?” Rafe smirks, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he looks at you. “You’re going to have a lot of fun being all clingy.”

“Shut the fuck up"

Rafe chuckles at your response, clearly enjoying every moment of your discomfort.

“You two are going to Bojan’s island for a small vacation in Cubs” Wes says, his tone smooth but firm. “You’re both obviously wealthy, so we’ll be funding your entire stay. Expect designer clothes, accessories, anything that screams high status. That’s what gets his attention. He thrives on money and power.”

He lets the words linger in the air, watching your expressions carefully. “We’ve booked the nearest villa to his compound. It’s the ideal location for you two to blend in with his crowd.”

Wes moves toward the board, flipping it around with a swift motion. Your eyes immediately lock onto it, scanning the maps, notes, and key details of the plan. Rafe’s posture stiffens, clearly focused.

“What you need to do first” Wes begins, his voice calm but carrying weight, “is secure an invite to his gala.” He points to the number 1 on the board, making sure it’s clear. “If you fail here, well, you can either enjoy the vacation or cut it short and head back. But that’s not going to happen, is it?”

He smirks, as if he knows the answer. “You don’t have a choice. Get the invite.”

His gaze shifts between you and Rafe, making sure the importance of the task lands.

Shoupe leans forward, his tone sharp and direct. “Brag about your wealth, flatter him about his work anything to get under his skin. Boost his ego. Do whatever it takes, but get that invite.”

Rafe pushes off the wall, his voice steady. “We’ll dig into his background, but in the meantime, we can start attending his events. Nothing wrong with gathering more intel while we can.”

Shoupe and Wes both nod, and even you follow suit, but then quickly stop yourself.

“Exactly" Wes says, a slight smile playing on his lips. “In the meantime, until the gala, lay low and start collecting evidence. We’ll supply you with cameras. You’ll pose as the happy couple, but take pictures of anything that might help us and send them immediately.”

Shoupe steps forward, his gaze sharp as he addresses the next phase of the mission. “For the gala, be careful. That’s where he’ll take his most trusted clients and hold meetings. What you need to get is his files, anything that could tie him to trafficking, corruption, illegal dealings. His data is stored on his computer… but the real key is the USB drive.”

You feel your throat tighten as they continue to explain the intricate details. The weight of this mission is beginning to set in. The risks are higher than ever.

“And the USB” Shoupe adds, looking at you both with a knowing glance, “he wears it around his neck. You’ll need to get close enough to take it from him.”

“You’ll need to be careful. Don’t get too comfortable, he’ll try to distract you. His charm isn’t just for show, and if he starts pushing, stay focused. Don’t let him get inside your heads,” Wes warns. “If you start getting too entangled in his web, the whole mission falls apart.”

Rafe looks at him, a nod of understanding. “And if things go south?”

He wasn’t usually one to get scared he was used to high stakes situations. But the way they meticulously laid out every detail, the gravity of it all, made his stomach twist. He looks at you, and saw the same unsettled look mirrored in your eyes.

“If things go south, you’ll need to use the phone we provide" Wes says, his tone serious. “It’s strictly for emergencies. If you dial it, a helicopter will be on its way in no more than ten minutes.” He pauses, making sure the weight of his words sinks in.

“Just so you’re clear, anything can happen,” Shoupe warns, his voice cold and unwavering. “So stay prepared.”

You swallow hard, nodding in agreement, anything can happen 

even love

“When do we leave?” Rafe asks, his gaze fixed on them.

“In three days"

Shoupe speaks up next. “Only our team will know, and they’ll be assisting from a distance. But beyond that, no one absolutely no one can know about this. Got it?” He makes a zip it gesture, emphasizing his point.

This is going to be tough, you think. Very tough. You glance over at Rafe, his jaw clenched, eyes focused. Somehow, despite everything, you’ll find a way to make it work. You just have to.

 “And for the love of god" Wes groans, slumping back into his chair. “Act in love. Hug each other, hold hands, hell, kiss if you have to.”

You freeze for a moment, your mind racing at the thought.

“Act like you’ve been in love" he adds, his tone growing more serious. “It’s the only way he’ll buy it.”

Rafe lets out a sarcastic chuckle, leaning back against the wall. “Easy" he mutters, his voice dripping with irony as he crosses his arms. His usual smirk only deepens as his gaze flicks toward you, a mix of amusement and something else in his eyes.

Shoupe eyes both of you for a moment before he nods. “You know what, quick test. Stand next to each other.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, rolling your eyes, while Rafe groans in exasperation. “What now?”

“Stand close to each other" Shoupe commands, his tone firm. “I want to see something.”

Rafe rubs his face with his hand, clearly annoyed. “Is this really necessary?” he mutters, as if this whole exercise is beneath him.

"Now!"

With a frustrated groan, you rise from your seat as Rafe steps closer. You both position yourselves side by side, facing your bosses, who watch you intensely. The space between you is tight, your shoulders brushing slightly. The unexpected contact sends a shiver down your spine, and you notice Rafe stiffening beside you.

“Now, turn to face each other" Wes orders, and you mentally curse him for making you go through this.

Reluctantly, you turn to Rafe, and he mirrors your movements. His messy, dirty blonde hair falls loosely around his face, a stark contrast to the gelled, polished style he usually wears. You can’t help but think his usual gelled style was a downgrade. This messier look suits him better, though you’d never say it out loud.

Despite not being particularly short, Rafe towers over you. The lack of a significant height difference becomes painfully apparent in this close space. Your shoulders brush slightly as you turn, a shiver running through you. It feels like too much.

Rafe studies you carefully. His eyes flick from your perfectly styled hair to the subtle makeup that enhances your features without hiding the natural sharpness of your face. As always, you’re composed organized, even in the chaos of this forced situation.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you that sends an unsettling feeling through your stomach. Maybe it’s just the absurdity of the situation, but you can’t shake the thought that this is going to be harder than either of you are willing to admit.

 "Give each other a hug now.”

“Oh, come on"

“Are you serious?”

“I’m dead serious" Shoupe insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Hug.”

Reluctantly, you open your arms and lean to the left. To your surprise, he mirrors you exactly, both of you awkwardly leaning in the same direction. You freeze, standing there like fools, neither of you sure how to salvage the moment.

After a brief, uncomfortable pause, you both shift back to the right, trying again. But once again, it’s a disaster. You both lean the same way, once again unable to make any real contact. You exchange a look, your frustration growing by the second.

Rafe finally lets out a low curse, sounding almost defeated. He steps forward, his hand moving to your waist, and pulls you toward him with a firm, almost impatient grip. You stiffen at the sudden closeness, the heat of his body too much to ignore, but you try to relax as best as you can. This time, the hug feels a little more natural, though still full of tension.

Wes sighs, massaging his temple in frustration. “Avoid hugging in front of people. Please.”

“Is this alright, or do you want a love confession, too?” Rafe says, his hands still casually resting on your waist, making it feel even more awkward.

“Now that you mention it-"

You both immediately break the hug, creating a sizable gap between you. Wes and Shoupe burst into laughter, unable to hide their amusement.

Wes looks at both of you. “You’re both free to go. Don’t forget the files. Do your research, and we’ll provide everything you need tomorrow.”

You both nod in acknowledgment as you grab your files. “We’ll meet again" Wes says.

Saying your goodbyes, you both head for the door at the same time. You pause as you stand in front of it, both of you reaching for the handle simultaneously.

“At least act like a gentleman” you mutter.

Rafe rolls his eyes but opens the door, walking out without another word.

You shake your head in disbelief, muttering under your breath "Asshole.”

Shoupe gazes at his long-time friend, concern evident in his eyes. “This is incredibly dangerous. We won’t just leave them to handle it on their own, right?”

Wes stares at the door, his expression hardening. “Of course not. I can’t lose her.”

Shoupe lets out a heavy sigh. “And I can’t lose him either.”

In the hallway, people halt in their tracks, eyeing you both with confusion. Whispers linger in the air what was Rafe doing here, and what in the world were you doing with him?

You whip around to face him, about to speak, but he cuts you off first. “Don’t get too comfortable with this, angel.”

You scoff, crossing your arms in defiance. “Me? Maybe you should take your own advice, Cameron. Though, this probably won’t be too difficult for you. You’ve always been obsessed with me.” You let a sly smile creep across your face, watching as his smirk falters.

“Careful, Mrs. Stark" Rafe says with a smirk, his tone teasing. “You’re my wife now.”

You roll your eyes, unfazed. “In your dreams" you retort, turning on your heel and walking away, leaving him standing there, a smug grin plastered on his face.

“God, I couldn’t care less about you being paired with him" Cleo mutters, handing you another gun. Her eyes are sharp with concern as she adds "This mission is seriously dangerous.”

You groan, stuffing the weapon into your bag. “Trust me, I’ve thought about that all day. Then Cameron pops into my head, and all I feel is anger.”

Cleo smacks your arm, making you wince. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“Stop being so dramatic" Cleo hisses, her tone firm but laced with worry. “Forget about him for a second and focus on staying alive, alright?”

You pout dramatically as you move to the nearby table, picking up a sleek lipstick tube that doubles as a hidden knife. Grabbing three of them, you tuck them carefully into your bag. “I know, Cleo. Don’t worry. I’ll make it out alive.”

Placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, you offer her a confident smile. She closes her eyes and exhales a deep sigh, her concern evident despite her best efforts to hide it.

“Hey" you say softly, squeezing her shoulder gently "you know I never fail, right?”

“I know, it’s just…” Cleo’s voice softens as a faint smile graces her lips. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Without hesitation, you shake your head and pull her into a tight hug. “You won’t. I promise. The moment I’m back, we’re going out for beers, alright?”

Cleo nods, her smile growing. “Of course. Maybe with one more person joining us.”

You narrow your eyes at her, pausing for a second before realizing what she’s implying. “Cleo no" you say firmly, pointing a finger at her.

She only smirks mischievously. “What? I’m just saying-"

“No. No, no, no. Never. Why would you even think that?” You throw your hands up in exasperation, but Cleo’s grin remains, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

“Just teasing you” she grins, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. You manage a smile, though it’s faint. “But hey, take it easy on him. You two are going to have each other’s backs for the next week.”

You let out a tired sigh. “I will.”

She raises an eyebrow, her tone shifting slightly. “I’m serious. Whatever happened that day, just forget it.”

You bite your lip, feeling the weight of her words. You set the bag on the floor, sinking into the chair as Cleo follows suit.

“I just wish it wasn’t him, Cleo. We’ve always been competitive, but…” You pause, trying to find the right words. “What really threw me off was that night. When he basically took over our mission, it wasn't even his and John B got hurt.” Your vision blurs as the painful memories of that night rush back.

John B had always been your closest friend, your best friend, to be exact. You two had started this job young, with nothing but each other to rely on.

So, when Rafe, as reckless as ever, decided to interfere with the mission that night, everything went wrong. He chose a riskier route, trying to cut down on time, and you, trying to keep things under control, sent John B after him to stop him. That’s a decision you’ve regretted ever since.

Your best friend, determined to catch up, slipped on a loose patch of gravel while trying to follow Rafe, falling hard on his back. The impact was so severe, the sound of his body hitting the ground still echoes in your mind. The injury kept him sidelined from missions, forcing him to step back and watch from the sidelines while you continued. It broke something inside you

You’d never felt guilt like this before. Every time you looked at John B, all you could see was the pain in his eyes, the weight of what happened, and the constant reminder that it was because of your decision. John B always tells you it’s not your fault, but deep down, you know you’ll never believe him.

It was your fault.

Some might call you overdramatic, questioning how much hatred you hold for Rafe over something like this. But the truth is, you’ve always disliked him. This incident only fueled that hatred, making it stronger.

And the feeling was mutual.

Cleo pats your shoulder gently, a soft smile on her face. “You’re overthinking it. Even John B laughed and joked about you two being a couple.”

You gag, shaking your head. “Please, don’t start with that.”

“On a scale from one to ten, how hot do you think she is?” Kelce’s obnoxious laughter echoed through the room, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

Rafe rolled his eyes, letting out a frustrated sigh as he took another drag from his cigarette. Normally, he wasn’t one to smoke, but right now, he needed something to calm his nerves.

“Eleven" Topper chimed in, attempting to mimic Rafe’s voice. His attempt only sent the group into fits of laughter.

Rafe shot him a glare before grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him with a grunt. “Shut the fuck up" he muttered

Kelce, never missing an opportunity, grinned widely. “Don’t be mad, Rafey” he teased. “Or should I say… Mr. Starkey?”

“Don’t tell me you’re talking about her like that,” Sarah said, her voice sharp as she entered the room. “Real mature, you guys.” Sofia stepped in behind her, raising an eyebrow at the scene unfolding.

Topper groaned. “Fun’s over” he muttered, tossing back a shot as Sarah jumped next to him, her eyes narrowed with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“When are you leaving?” she asked, turning to her brother. Despite their constant bickering, she couldn’t hide the unease creeping up on her, she was more nervous than she wanted to admit.

“Tomorrow" Rafe replied flatly, his voice betraying nothing.

The room fell into a heavy silence, each person processing the weight of what was about to unfold.

“Did you pack everything?” Sofia asked softly, her voice carrying a hint of concern.

Rafe nodded without looking up. “Yeah. Clothes, guns, everything. We had Evelyn make the suitcases bigger, more room for the weapons and other things, just in case someone decides to take a closer look.”

His gaze remained fixed on the floor, a faraway look in his eyes. Sofia felt a pang in her chest, a twist of disappointment she hadn’t anticipated. She bit her lip, trying to shake off the feeling, but it lingered longer than she would have liked.

Why couldn’t it have been her on the mission with him, instead of you?

“At least you’ll have fun" Topper says with a mischievous grin, nudging Rafe playfully. “It’s a vacation, after all.”

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head. “With her? I don’t think so.” He takes another drag from his cigarette

Sarah’s eyes narrow at her brother “She’s actually fun and nice. If you weren’t such an asshole, you might actually get to see that.”

Rafe raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t respond right away. There’s a flicker of something, irritation, maybe, or regret before he looks away, as if avoiding the conversation altogether.

Sarah crosses her arms, leaning against the couch, her gaze unwavering. “You might want to rethink how you’re going into this. You’re going to have to rely on each other, whether you like it or not.”

Rafe mutters something under his breath, but it’s hard to make out. Sarah’s words seem to have struck a nerve, and for once, he’s at a loss for a retort.

The blond pulls his phone from his pocket, his eyes scanning the screen before glancing at the time. He exhales slowly, the weight of everything pressing on him. “I need to go" he mutters “Got to shave my head, get some sleep.”

Kelce looks up, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, I should probably hit the bed too. Got an early morning tomorrow.”

The group nods in agreement, a silence settling over them as the reality of what’s to come sinks in. Rafe stands, he doesn’t look back as he walks through the dimly lit hallway, his footsteps the only sound that fills the stillness of the agency.

He enters the room he’s claimed for the night, a space that feels too big and too quiet. His fingers graze the countertop where the clippers are sitting. He stares at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment, his eyes searching his own face for something, anything, but finds nothing. His expression is unreadable, a mask of detachment.

With a deep breath, he turns the clippers on, the buzz filling the room and cutting through the silence. He takes a moment before placing them against his scalp, the cold metal feeling sharp against his skin. As the first strip of hair falls away, he doesn’t flinch. 

The door creaks open, and Rafe doesn’t need to turn to know who’s entering. The familiar, confident steps give it away, Shoupe.

“Big day tomorrow Rafe" Shoupe says, his voice low as he settles into the armchair across the room, the leather creaking slightly under his weight.

Rafe lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze fixed on the mirror “Big day for everyone" he replies, his tone flat 

“You know, I consider you like a son” Shoupe says, his voice softer than usual as he watches Rafe finish up with the clipper. He runs a hand over his freshly buzzed head, the feel of the short stubble grounding him in the present. He gathers the plastic sheet from the floor, collecting the clippings of his hair 

“You can still say no to this mission. I’ll cancel it, no questions asked.”

Rafe pauses, his gaze distant, the weight of the night settling heavily on him. He looks at Shoupe, his eyes unreadable under the harsh light. The only sound in the room is the distant hum of the summer crickets outside, their rhythmic chirps filling the silence between them. It’s almost hypnotic.

“I know" Rafe mutters, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “But I can’t cancel it, Shoupe. Not now. If I do, I’ll never be able to sleep at night, knowing… women, girls, kids… are suffering because I couldn’t handle a mission. Because I couldn’t do what needed to be done.”

“I promise you" Rafe says, his voice steady but filled with determination “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we finish this mission successfully, and that we all get out alive her, me, and everyone else he’s taken.” He places the clipper back where it belongs.

He strides toward the door, ready to leave the tension of the room behind, but stops when Shoupe speaks

“She deserves an apology too, son" Shoupe says, his gaze unwavering.

Rafe freezes, the words hitting him harder than he expected. His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak “It wasn’t my fault,” he mutters, his voice strained. He turns back, meeting Shoupe’s gaze, the flicker of frustration in his eyes. “But… I’ll make sure to apologize. I owe her that.”

With that, he exits the room.

“JJ, get the hell off me" you say, trying to wiggle out of his bear hug. “You’re gonna suffocate me!”

“Better me than that asshole” JJ jokes, only to get an elbow in the ribs from Kie.

“Idiot” she mutters, shaking her head.

You laugh, despite the uncomfortable situation, as JJ winces and finally releases you. Just as you’re about to breathe a sigh of relief, John B pinches your side, making you slap his hand away.

“Look at you” John B teases, his smirk widening. “Never thought I’d see you in… .” He looks you up and down, snorting. “Those clothes?”

You groan, dramatically tugging at the pearl choker around your neck. “Don’t remind me,” you whine, clearly uncomfortable. “I feel like I’m being suffocated by this outfit.”

“You’re living that old money life now" Pope laughs, his grin wide, but then he pauses, his expression turning thoughtful. “Well, you will be soon.”

You cross your arms with a pout, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. This wasn’t you this wasn’t the life you were used to. It felt like slipping into someone else’s skin. But for the next few days, you’d have to play the part, pretending as if you’d belonged in this world all along.

“Look who’s coming" JJ says, his voice light as he casually slings an arm around your shoulder.

You follow his gaze, your eyes immediately locking on Rafe as he strides toward you, the confident click of his shoes echoing in the quiet surroundings. Behind him are his team, Shoupe and Wes.

As he draws closer, you take a moment to assess him fully. Beige pants, perfectly pressed, and a simple white polo shirt that fits him just right, elegant, yet understated. His gold chain catches the light with every step he takes, adding a subtle but undeniable touch of luxury to his look. He doesn’t need to try hard, everything about him screams wealth, power, and status.

But then you notice something else. The buzzcut. His hair is shaved close to the scalp, the usual tousled look replaced with something sharp and clean. It’s a drastic change, but it works. It makes his jawline even more defined, his features more angular. There’s a rawness to him now, something more intimidating but oddly attractive.

You swallow, but the thought doesn’t escape you. He looks even better than before.

“Good morning” Rafe greets, his voice still thick with sleep, but it carries that same familiar confidence. He nods to everyone, his eyes briefly scanning the room.

“Morning" you reply softly, but this time, instead of looking away, you deliberately meet his gaze. His eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, the room seems to fade around you. His sharp blue eyes are even more piercing in the light, and you can feel a tension settle between you.

Wes claps his hands, breaking the moment. “Alright, everyone” he says, cutting through the thick silence. “The van will be here soon, so I’ll keep this short.” He looks around at everyone, his gaze settling on each person individually. “Trust each other. You" he points at your team "will be working closely with them.” he shifts towards Rafe's team

He then turns towards you and Rafe “For them, we will be their eyes and ears handling intel, gathering information, and ensuring everything goes according to plan. No mistakes.”

Shoupe speaks up, his voice cutting through the moment. “Alright, let’s say our goodbyes and get to work.”

Without hesitation, you step forward and pull Kie into a tight hug, holding her for a moment longer than usual. “Don’t miss me too much"

“I’ll just stalk you" Kie laughs, her voice light, but you can tell there’s an edge of concern beneath the teasing. She pulls back, offering a smile, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

The blonde girl steps closer to Rafe, her arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace. She whispers softly “Be safe, Rafe. Please.”

Rafe doesnt hesitate returning the hug, his usually guarded demeanor slipping. He wasn’t one for affection, but this was different. 

“I will" he says, his voice steady. “Don’t worry.”

He presses a soft kiss to her temple, lingering for a second longer than usual. 

“I’ll be back before you know it" he adds, smiling at his baby sister

Rafe finishes his goodbyes and moves toward Shoupe and Wes, his steps steady and purposeful. As soon as he comes you approach them.

Wes immediately places his hands on your shoulders, giving both of you a reassuring squeeze. “Good luck out there, yeah?” He flashes a smile, his tone light but sincere. “Make us proud.”

Shoupe chuckles softly, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “They always do"

At this, both you and Rafe share a rare, knowing smile

“Just like we discussed" Shoupe says, his voice steady and firm. “One call, and it’s canceled. Understood?”

You nod, meeting his gaze with determination. “Don’t worry,” you reassure them. “We won’t let it get to that point. We’ll handle it"

You exchange a glance with Rafe, and for a split second, the usual banter fades. His gaze lingers on you, something unsaid passing between you. You look away quickly, not wanting to acknowledge the strange tension rising between you. He shifts his weight, looking at the ground, as if trying to shake off the moment.

The white Range Rover pulls up, sleek and modern. Rafe and JJ begin loading the suitcases into the truck As Rafe slides the last white suitcase into the back of the truck, he glances over at you. You’re standing by the passenger door, waiting, your presence almost serene. The sunlight catches your freshly dyed black hair, giving it a smooth, glossy sheen. Your white summer dress falls to your ankles, simple but elegant, the kind of outfit that makes you look effortlessly graceful. It’s a stark contrast to the urgency of the moment, but somehow, it fits like you were made for this.

Rafe takes a breath, shaking off the thought before it lingers too long. There’s no time for distractions.

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Starkey" Kelce teases with a smirk, his voice dripping with amusement. You roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile.

“Hey, asshole, zip it" Rafe calls out, his tone playful but sharp, making the group burst into laughter.

The car door opens, and you slide into the passenger seat, trying to shake off the heaviness in your chest. Rafe slides into the driver’s seat, his usual confident demeanor back in place. Before Rafe drives off, JJ leans out of the window, flashing a teasing grin. “Stay safe out there. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do" 

You roll your eyes, not bothering to hold back your irritation. Without a word, you extend your middle finger in his direction, then quickly roll up the window, blocking out the sound of his laughter.

As the white truck pulls away, Wes turns to his team, his voice steady and commanding. “Let’s get to work, all of you, come on.”

JJ groans in protest, dragging his feet. “Already? Can’t we take a second?”

Wes shoots him a look that could freeze fire. “Yes, JJ, immediately.”

“…Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Starkey. Your key to your suite" the receptionist says with a bright smile, handing over the key.

“Thank you" you respond, your voice calm, but your mind racing. Rafe, effortlessly confident, slides his arm around your waist. You feel a small jolt of tension in your body, but you force yourself to stay composed, not letting your discomfort show.

“Your suitcases are already in your room. Enjoy your stay" she adds, still smiling, as she moves to the next person "What can I do for you, Mrs. Gomez?”

“Ah, that’s wonderful. Gracias" Rafe responds smoothly, flashing her a charming wink over the top of his sunglasses. You can’t help but feel a little annoyed by how natural he makes it seem

As you walk past staff and guests, you instinctively move closer to Rafe. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly as if you belong there. 

“You’re making this look so natural angel” Rafe whispers in your ear, his voice low and teasing. You roll your eyes, but you keep your expression steady.

“How long have you been waiting for this?” he adds, his tone smooth, like he knows exactly how to provoke you.

You give him a fake smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Don’t tempt me, baby" you reply, your voice dripping with feigned sweetness. “I’ll stab you.”

He chuckles softly, a smug grin curling on his lips. “Easy tiger” he mutters, clearly amused by the tension he knows he’s stirring.

He opens the door, and you step into the expansive suite. The room is far more luxurious than you imagined, with sleek wooden floors that reflect the soft light from the crystal chandeliers above. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings, and large windows offer a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching out to the horizon. The bed is large, draped in soft, white linens that look almost too inviting.

“This place is gorgeous" you say, your voice a little breathless as you run your fingers along the smooth wooden walls, admiring the craftsmanship.

Rafe looks around, he doesn’t seem as impressed as you are, his eyes scanning the room with a casual indifference. “Eh, I’ve seen better" he mutters, barely lifting an eyebrow as he casually strides over to the bed. With a smooth motion, he jumps onto it, throwing himself down with a comfortable ease, as if he’s already claimed the space as his own.

You glance at him with a knowing look, an eyebrow arched. “Of course" you say, the implication clear in your tone.

But then, it hits you there’s only one bed, and a couch in the corner. A couple’s suite, of course. You’d completely forgotten about that detail. “What about sleeping arrangements?” you ask, your voice laced with an unexpected tension as you look over at him.

He lazily opens his eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What about it?” he replies, his voice low and casual, as if the question itself is insignificant.

“This is going to be a long week” you mutter, your eyes scanning the suite. The large bed and couch are the only options, and it suddenly hits you. You turn to him, trying to keep your tone casual. “So, will you be sleeping on the couch or-"

His laugh interrupts you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Angel, we’re sleeping together,” he says, his voice calm and confident. He points at the large windows, the sun streaming through. “We’ll close the curtains, but we still have to act the part.”

You let out a quiet, defeated sigh, trying to swallow down the unease bubbling in your stomach. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the mission being this close to him. But you can’t back out now. You can’t let your emotions jeopardize everything.

"Fine"

“I’ll be taking a shower” Rafe announces, standing up and removing his shirt. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest come into full view, the muscles taut as he moves. You’ve seen countless men shirtless before, but there’s something about his presence that makes you freeze for a moment.

You try to look away, but your eyes are drawn to his defined frame, the way his skin stretches over the muscle, the faint markings of tattoos that only make him more intimidating. For a second, your breath catches in your throat, and your mind betrays you, pulling up thoughts you’d rather not entertain.

No, stop. This isn’t happening. You mentally shake yourself, forcing your gaze away. 

“You’re free to join if you want" Rafe says over his shoulder as he steps into the bathroom, his voice low and teasing.

“In your dreams Cameron" you reply, your tone sharp, trying to hide the brief flutter his words provoke.

He chuckles darkly, his laughter filling the space between you. “Angel in my dreams, you don’t even want to know what we do" he throws back with a smirk, his voice laced with mischief, before closing the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut leaves a lingering tension in the air, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, a mix of annoyance and something else that you refuse to acknowledge.

You open your bag and retrieve your laptop with practiced ease. You quickly open it, fingers flying over the keys as you type a quick text to Pope: “We're on the cruise.”

With that sent, you turn your attention to the hidden file you’ve kept for moments like this. The click of the mouse is the only sound that fills the room as you open it, the list of Bojan’s contacts filling the screen. You start scanning through the names, but then your eyes stop at one. Andrea Gomez.

The name lingers in your mind, setting off a chain of thoughts. Where have you heard that name before?

The answer hits you in a flash, the receptionist. Her voice echoes in your head, as clear as if she were standing right beside you.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Gomez?”

You quickly turn off your laptop, shove it into your bag, and check your reflection in the mirror. You tug your dress into place, smoothing out any creases, Quickly you scribble a note to Rafe: “Out for lunch, join when you can.” Your handwriting is neat but quick, and you set the note on the bedside table, not giving it a second thought.

After one last glance around the room, you leave, stepping into the quiet hallway. The air is cool against your skin, and the soft hum of distant conversations echoes in the background as you make your way toward the restaurant. You walk fast, the clicking of your heels on the polished floor a steady rhythm. When you push open the door to the restaurant, you’re hit with the low murmur of chatter, the clinking of silverware, and the faint scent of freshly baked bread and strong coffee.

Inside, the place is bustling, but you know exactly where to look. You scan the area, your eyes gliding over the sea of faces until they settle on her Andrea Gomez the woman from the reception. She sits at a table near the window, her blonde hair catching the sunlight, her posture poised and elegant as she sips her drink. You eye the table next to hers, it's free

You begin walking toward the empty table near hers, but just as you near the spot, a woman slides into the chair blocking your path. You stop just short, cursing under your breath. Fucking hell, you think, irritation bubbling up. You take a step back, glancing around quickly, trying to figure out how to proceed.

Scanning the surroundings for any other clues, your eyes fall to the woman’s bag, a bag adorned with dinosaur toys. Perfect, you think, a small grin tugging at the corner of your lips. 

Without missing a beat, you turn toward a waitress who’s walking by. You catch her attention, lowering your voice just enough to make sure only she hears. “Excuse me" you say, your tone laced with concern. The waitress halts, immediately giving you a warm smile

“Could you tell my dear friend over there that her son has been throwing up?” You add a soft, worried sigh to make your voice sound more genuine, just the right level of panic to get her to act quickly. The waitress nods, never questioning you, and turns toward Andrea’s table.

As soon as the random woman exits in a hurry, you slide into the chair, eyes instinctively shifting to Andrea. She doesn’t acknowledge you. Her attention remains fixed on the magazine in front of her, her expression unreadable.

With a soft sigh, you place your bag on the chair beside you. You can’t help but study her, taking in her calm demeanor. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, effortlessly framing her face, and you estimate her to be in her early 40s, though she holds herself with an air of confidence that makes it hard to tell. She’s dressed in a crisp white summer shirt, paired with a flowing long skirt that catches the light with every subtle movement. 

As the waiter approaches to take your order, you decide to play the clueless tourist, pretending to study the menu. “I’ll have a strawberry mango margarita, and… uh” you pause just loud enough for her to hear, watching as Andrea lowers her magazine. Bingo. “Almejas a la… sorry, I can’t pronounce this.”

Before the waiter can respond, the blonde woman beside you interjects, her voice smooth and confident. “Almejas a la marinera" she says with a small smile, her tone polite yet somewhat knowing.

“Yes, that!” you smile, grateful as you hand the menu back to the waiter. You turn to Andrea, meeting her gaze with an air of warmth and ease. “Thank you so much…”

“Andrea" she replies, extending her hand with a smile.

She was kind, perhaps too kind. 

You take her hand, your own smile delicate. “My name’s Jane" you say, your voice calm but steady, already slipping further into your role.

Forty minutes and three margaritas later, Andrea’s laughter echoes across the table. “And then Drew was like, ‘Angel in my dreams, you don’t even want to know what we do.’” She leans back in her chair, chuckling, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and amusement.

You grin, leaning forward slightly as if sharing in her amusement, though inside, you’re calculating every move. The story you just told was an exaggerated and slightly mortifying retelling of what Rafe had said earlier. But Andrea didn’t need to know that. She was tipsy and seemed to find humor in everything, which worked perfectly in your favor.

“Ah, young love” Andrea sighs, her smile softening as she sips from her drink. Her fingers toy with the edge of her glass as her tone turns curious. “So, let me get this straight you’re really going to Cuba?”

You nod offering her an easy smile. “Yep first time. I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Wow" she says with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “And here I thought this trip was going to be boring.” Her smile widens bright and genuine, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty but that's immediately gone

“You know" Andrea continues, setting her glass down "I’m really having fun with you. We should exchange numbers! If you’re free, maybe we could do lunch sometime… or even dinner with our husbands?”

You gasp lightly, your expression lighting up as though the idea had never crossed your mind. “That would be fantastic" you say, masking your true intentions behind a perfectly practiced smile.

You flinch slightly as soft lips press against your cheek, followed by the weight of warm hands resting on your shoulders. You force a smile, quickly placing your hand over his as you turn to look at Rafe. “Baby you scared me" you say with a playful tone, masking your initial surprise.

Rafe chuckles, his hands giving your shoulders a light squeeze. His sharp blue eyes lock onto Andrea, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. You seize the moment, beaming at her. “This is Andrea Gomez my new friend” you say brightly, gesturing toward her. Hoping he recognizes the name, he doesn't. Idiot

"She’s going to Cuba too.”

Understanding dawns on his face, and his grin widens. Without missing a beat, he extends his hand toward Andrea. “Drew Starkey ma’am" he says smoothly, his voice warm and confident.

“Andrea" your new friend says with a warm, sweet smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rafe slides into the chair beside you, his presence as effortless as ever. His hand instinctively finds yours, intertwining your fingers in a way that feels both familiar and practiced. You glance at him, taking in his new outfit a pair of tailored brown pants and a loose, unbuttoned brown shirt and a pair of white framed sunglasses perched on his nose.  He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine.

“All the good things I hope" he says, flashing Andrea a charming smile before casually reaching over to steal a tomato from your plate. His audacity earns him a pointed look from you, but he just chuckles, entirely unbothered.

“Of course! She hasn’t stopped talking about you” Andrea giggles, her tone light and teasing. You resist the urge to kick her under the table, forcing a smile instead.

Great. Just what he needs another boost to his already massive ego.

“You’re lucky to have her” Andrea adds

“I’m the luckiest man alive" Rafe says smoothly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. His scent clean and warm fills the space between you. You glance at him, catching his side profile, and curse at how pretty he looks.

Smiling sweetly, you let your hand drop under the table and pinch his leg, hard.

He stiffens, letting out a low groan that he quickly covers with a cough. “Oh! Uh, isn’t she so beautiful?” he says turning to Andrea with a strained grin.

Andrea laughs, oblivious to the silent war happening between you two. “She is truly beautiful"

Rafe glances back at you, his eyes glinting with mischief, and you flash him an innocent smile, victorious.

“Ah I’ve stayed way longer than I planned” Andrea says, glancing around for the waiter, looking a bit flustered.

“It’s fine” Rafe cuts in, leaning back casually. “I already covered it.”

Andrea’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe waves it off like it’s no big deal. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Call it a little thank you for keeping her company.”

Andrea laughs, shaking her head. “Well that’s sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Anytime” Rafe says, shooting her a quick grin before turning to you, smirking like he just did something heroic.

As the blonde woman exits the restaurant, the waiter approaches to take Rafe’s order. You take a quick look around, making sure no one is listening. Clearing your throat, you lean in slightly. “Her husband’s one of Bojan’s clients and a friend. I’m not sure if she knows about his… side interests but we can definitely use her to get the invite” you explain, keeping your voice low.

Rafe clearly unfazed, snags another tomato from your plate. You grab your fork, aiming for his hand, but he’s quick to pull it away with a smug grin. Before you can react, the fork is lodged in the table.

“Seriously? Get your own food"

He leans back with a wink, unbothered. “Yours tastes better" he says, his voice teasing.

“Anyway, I got her number. She’s staying close to us" you say, taking a sip of your drink and casually glancing at him.

Without warning, Rafe reaches over and gives your cheek a playful squeeze. You shoot him a sharp glare, pulling back slightly.

“What?” he says with a smirk, shrugging innocently. “Can’t a husband show a little affection to his wife?”

“You’re ruining my makeup, baby" you hiss, swatting his hand away as he chuckles clearly enjoying himself.

As Rafe’s food arrives, he digs in casually, but his sharp gaze scans the room with purpose. His eyes narrow as he spots two men in gray suits, sunglasses perched on their faces as they subtly observe the diners. They’re speaking into earpieces, their demeanor calm but focused. Got them

He glances at you and notices your gaze lingering on his plate. Without a word, he picks up a potato and holds it out to you.

You narrow your eyes at him suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Just eat it" he mutters his tone flat, like he’s doing you a favor.

You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll pass. I don’t trust your taste.”

He smirks, popping it into his own mouth. “Your loss.”

You glance at him, arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan?”

Rafe leans back in his chair “We’ll go to dinner, charm your new bestie a little more, then I’ll find a way to sneak into their suite. It might be tricky with the guards wandering around, plus staff and nosy guests, but—”

“No" you cut him off firmly, shaking your head.

He pauses, raising a brow. “What do you mean no?”

"No. It’s an adverb, but it can also double as an adjective or a noun depends on the context.”

His jaw tightens as he glares at you. “I know what no is. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

You pout, tilting your head mockingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Rafe clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Watch your attitude angel. I get that we’re supposed to work together, but don’t push it. Tonight, I’m breaking in-"

“Fucking try it Rafe" you snap, your voice sharp as your glare pierces through him. “I know you’re used to giving orders to your little friends and having them wag their tails, but that won’t work on me. It’s a reckless plan. People might see you. Hell, whatever’s in their suite will still be at their house. So wait.”

He laughs low and mocking, shaking his head. “You’re scared to take a risk. That’s your problem, angel always overthinking instead of acting.”

"And your problem" you fire back, leaning closer your noses almost touching “is thinking you’re untouchable. Newsflash, you’re not.”

“Oh, really?” His smirk fades, replaced by a hard stare. “You know what, if you’ve got a genius plan, I’m all ears. Please enlighten me.” 

"Anything is better than your dumb idea of sneaking in there tonight. You don’t even know if they’ve got cameras set up or extra security. But sure, let’s roll with the ‘I’m Rafe Cameron, nothing can touch me’ strategy.”

Rafe shifts in his chair. “At least I get things done" he says, his voice low and edged with challenge. “You’re too afraid of screwing up to even try.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, shooting him a pointed look as you stand. “Save your impulsive acts for when it actually matters. Bon appétit baby" you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm before turning on your heel and walking away.

Behind you, Rafe lets out a sharp laugh of disbelief, the sound carrying over the clink of cutlery in the restaurant. He stares at the empty chair next to him for a moment, his grip tightening on his fork before he tosses it onto his plate.

“Unbelievable" he mutters under his breath. As much as he hates to admit it, you weren’t entirely wrong. But that doesn’t mean he’s about to let your little speech kill his plans.

Scoffing, he pulls a crisp fifty dollar bill from his wallet, slaps it on the table, and stands. “Fucking pain in the ass" he mutters, adjusting his sunglasses as he strides out.

As night falls, you stand under the steady stream of the shower, scrubbing your skin harder than usual, as if the water could wash away the frustration boiling inside you. Rafe hadn’t come back after lunch. Where he disappeared to, you didn’t know, and honestly, you didn’t care at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Stupid asshole" you mutter under your breath, slamming the shampoo bottle onto the metal counter with more force than necessary. The clank echoes through the bathroom.

The thought of him acting so recklessly, barging into situations without a second thought, sends another wave of irritation through you. How could someone so smug also be so damn careless?

You grab the bathrobe, tying it firmly around your waist, the knot tighter than it needs to be. Snatching the hair dryer, you start drying your hair with sharp, aggressive movements. “Afraid to take risks?” you mutter, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. “Screw him. I take risks all the time.” His words replay in your mind, igniting another flare of irritation.

With a frustrated huff, you set down the dryer and reach for the hair rollers, winding them into your damp hair. “Stubborn, arrogant asshole" you mutter under your breath, your reflection staring back at you as if agreeing.

Rafe exhales deeply as he unlocks the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. The lights are off, but the sound of the hair dryer buzzing from the bathroom is unmistakable.

He rubs the back of his neck, the tension in his muscles palpable after another long day of getting nowhere. He locks the door behind him and flops onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day settle in. He had spent hours on the move, trying to pry useful information from anyone he could, but all he encountered were empty praises for Bojan, as if the man were some kind of god.

“Idiots" he mutters under his breath.

The hum of the hair dryer stops abruptly, and Rafe is grateful. The constant noise had been getting on his nerves. He unlocks his phone to check for messages from his friends, hoping for something, anything useful, but before he can scroll through, he hears your voice.

At first, he thinks you’re speaking to him, but then he realizes you’re just talking to yourself. A small smile tugs at his lips as he listens for a moment, amused. Even though you're talking shit about him

Rafe stands up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and knocks on the bathroom door. “You know talking to yourself is a sign of schizophrenia"

There’s silence on the other side. You don’t respond.

He raises an eyebrow, about to fire off another remark, but before he can you bang on the door the sound sharp and sudden. He can’t help but laugh a real, genuine chuckle that escapes him “Alright, alright" 

It’s written well, but adding a bit more tension or internal reflection could heighten the emotional intensity of the scene. For example, you could mention Rafe’s reaction to you slamming the door or your own feelings as you leave. Here’s a small tweak:

Rafe pulls off his t-shirt, his eyes scanning his suitcase, the clothes tangled up with yours. He whistles low under his breath, rummaging through the mess.

The door opens, but neither of you makes eye contact. You reach for the white set you’d chosen earlier, brushing past him to grab your makeup bag.

Rafe without missing a beat snatches the bag and holds it up a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Looking for this?”

You don’t flinch. Instead, you silently snatch the bag from his grasp and march toward the bathroom. You slam the door behind you so hard it rattles the walls, the sound echoing between the two of you.

“Don’t take too much time" he calls out, his voice carrying across the room. He grabs a white t-shirt from the suitcase and a pair of beige shorts moving quickly. His fingers work with ease, pulling off his clothes and slipping into the fresh outfit.

He grabs his cologne from the dresser, spritzing it generously into the air, the sharp, fresh scent filling the space. As the scent settles, he casually snatches up a sweatshirt, tying it around his neck

Radfe glances toward the bathroom, where you’re still nowhere near finished. With a low groan, he throws himself onto the bed, stretching out and staring at the ceiling, his patience wearing thin. Every few seconds his eyes flick toward the door, hoping for some sign that you’re ready.

He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, a sigh escaping him. “Come on we’re running late" he mutters under his breath. The clock on the wall ticks away but still nothing.

Rafe rubs his face with both hands “You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose” he says. But the truth is, he’s just restless. You’re never this slow… or maybe you are.

In the bathroom, you balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder while carefully removing the rollers from your hair.

“So, I just need to get close to him?” you ask Pope.

He hums in agreement. “Yes get close to her husband. From the app I sent I’ll sync the data from his phone.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, reaching for your phone as you hear Rafe’s whiny voice in the background. “Alright I’ll do my best. Talk to you later.” You hang up

You study your reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The long white lace skirt clings to your hips in all the right places, and the short tank top fits your curves perfectly, accentuating every line. Your hair, full of volume and cascading in soft waves, frames your face effortlessly. The makeup is simple but flawless a sharp wing of eyeliner and a glossy sheen on your lips, the perfect balance between effortless and polished.

Everything about your appearance is on point, exactly how you envisioned it.

Except for one small problem. The tank top’s zipper rests just behind you, unreachable no matter how you stretch or twist. You’ve tried everything reaching over your shoulder, turning awkwardly, even attempting to contort yourself in ways that just aren’t even possibly but the zipper refuses to budge.

Frustration builds, and with a sigh, you reach for the fake wedding ring resting on the counter. The large stone catches the light, a perfect illusion of glamour. You slip it on, the weight of it feeling oddly reassuring as you take one last look at your reflection.

There’s no way around it. As much as you hate to admit it, you’ll have to ask Rafe.

Great.

You open the door and step out, finding Rafe looking out of the window. He turns when he hears you, his eyes scanning you for a moment though you feel as if the glance lasts much longer than it actually does.

“Finally" he says, a hint of smugness in his tone.

You roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his words. Turning your back to him, you speak with a mixture of annoyance and frustration. “Help me with this.”

He glances at the unzipped zipper, his gaze sharp as he takes a step closer. His finger brushes against your back, sending an involuntary shiver through you as he grabs the zipper.

“Say please" 

“I don’t have time for this" you exhale sharply, growing impatient.

“I have all the time in the world" he responds with a sassy grin

"Rafe-"

"Angel"

“Please" you finally relent, your frustration giving way to defeat. The moment the word escapes your lips, the zipper is quickly pulled up.

Then we move away from each other, I open the suitcase, the latch clicking open, and my fingers quickly sift through the contents. I find the lipstick-knife, its sleek design a perfect disguise. I slip it into my bag, then grab a few more essentials: my gun, a set of lock picks, and other things

Across from me, Rafe’s already at work. He pulls out his gun, checking the clip before hiding it behind his back. Then he grabs a couple of extra magazines

Once we’ve gathered everything, we move toward the door our movements smooth. I step a little ahead, wrapping my arm around his bicep. Rafe doesn’t hesitate, his gaze steady as he reaches for the door handle. He pulls it open with a sharp tug, the creak of the door cutting through the silence.

We exchange no words as we step outside together, the cool night air sweeping over us.

Soft music fills the air, the gentle hum of it blending with the quiet chatter of the restaurant. Rafe and I sit at a table in the center, our plates in front of us, the wine in our glasses catching the light.

Your gaze shifts almost instinctively to Andrea sitting just two tables away with her husband Diego. You lean in slightly, lowering your voice. “I need to get close to him.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker briefly toward them before he nods, his expression unreadable. “Pope can collect the data from his phone" You add watching him carefully.

He gives a subtle nod in agreement, his focus returning to the table as the plan begins to take shape.

You flash your best smile and wave at Andrea, who catches your eye and immediately mirrors the gesture. Rising from your seat, you watch as she stands in kind, moving toward you with an energy that matches her excitement. She leans in and places a warm kiss on your cheek.

“Jane I’m so happy to see you!” she says her voice bright with enthusiasm.

A laugh escapes you as you reply "I could say the same.” You take a step back, admiring her. “Look at you, you look gorgeous"

“Oh, stop" Andrea waves her hand dismissively, a playful smile lighting up her face. “Thank you, but you look absolutely ravishing yourself.”

She glances over at her husband, who’s still preoccupied with his phone. With a soft smile, she turns back to me. “Diego" she calls out lightly, “this is Jane. I met her today. Jane, this is my husband.”

Diego looks up, his gaze lingering on me a little longer than I’m comfortable with, scanning me from head to toe with a cool appraisal. He clears his throat before standing, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you" he says, his voice clipped but polite.

I return the handshake, keeping my smile polite, though the encounter feels off. “Likewise" I reply, glancing briefly over at Rafe, who watches the exchange with quiet interest. “I just wanted to say hi, but I won’t keep you long. I’ll head back-”

“Nonsense" Andrea interrupts, her voice warm, with an edge of insistence. “Invite your husband and join us for dinner. It’s the least I can do after paying for my lunch. Don’t make me feel guilty now.” She laughs softly, the sound light but with a touch of familiarity.

Diego opens his mouth, as if to protest, but then seems to think better of it. Instead, he shoots Andrea a sharp glare, his jaw tightening. You can’t help but smile inwardly, savoring the small victory.

“If you insist, I’ll go call Drew” you reply, your voice calm as you turn to move away. As you approach Rafe, you lean in close, whispering in his ear. “Secured the dinner with them.”

He glances at you with a satisfied smile, his tone warm but quiet. “Good job angel.” He takes your bag for you while standing up. With a smooth, almost possessive gesture, he places his hand lightly on your back, guiding you forward.

Rafe and I share a smile as we approach the table, the unspoken understanding between us clear. Rafe immediately turns to Andrea, giving her a respectful nod. “Andrea, nice to meet you again" he says smoothly, before turning his attention to the man beside her, extending his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. Drew Starkey.”

Diego hums as he accepts the handshake, his grip firm. “Diego Gomez" he introduces himself as we all take our seats. His gaze sharpens, the curiosity evident. “Starkey? That sounds familiar. What do you do?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow “Luxury estate developer" he replies, his tone casual as he lies with practiced ease. “I run my own firm.”

At the mention of firm, Diego’s eyes visibly light up, a hint of interest piqued. “Oh, really?” he says leaning in slightly.

Rafe gives a small nod, taking a sip from his wine glass, his tone cool. “Yes based on North Carolina” he confirms smoothly, letting the words hang in the air just long enough to keep Diego intrigued.

“Ooh, Jane’s an art advisor,” Andrea says with a smile, drawing Diego’s attention to me. He looks at me curiously, his interest clearly piqued. “Diego is a huge fan of art. He even studied art history.”

Oh, great, you think to yourself, your stomach sinking.

Diego chuckles, adjusting his tie as he speaks. “I’m glad someone still appreciates unique things these days,” he says, his eyes gleaming with the kind of intensity that makes you uneasy.

“Thoughts on Da Vinci?” he asks, and you can practically feel your pulse quicken.

"Da Vinci?” you repeat, buying yourself a moment to think. “Well, I mean… he’s definitely a big name, right? Everyone knows his stuff. But, his work can sometimes be a bit overrated. Like, everyone talks about him being the best, but there are so many other artists who did things just as impressive, if not more.”

Diego hums in agreement, a satisfied look crossing his face. “Exactly, he doesn’t deserve the title of best artist” he says, his voice carrying a hint of smugness.

The table laughs lightly, but Diego presses on, much to your dismay. “So, who do you think deserves the recognition?”

You take a deep breath, trying to pull something from the depths of your knowledge. “Well… Claude Monet. I think he really changed the way people look at light and nature in art.”

Diego raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Ah, Monet. A solid choice.”

You nod, feeling the tension ease just a little, hoping it’s enough to keep the conversation moving.

Diego turns to you with a smile, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I like you" he says, a low chuckle escaping him.

An hour has passed, and the sound of laughter echoes through the restaurant, a strange blend of genuine amusement and forced cheer. Diego hasn’t stopped talking since we arrived bragging, joking, and generally dominating the conversation.

Even with his practiced smile, you can see the tension in Rafe’s body, his patience wearing thin. You get the sense that he’s seconds away from slamming Diego’s head onto the table.

Finally, Rafe breaks the tension, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle edge. “How about we hit the bar?” he suggests, turning toward Diego. “Leave our ladies to chat in peace for a bit.”

Andrea lets out a laugh. “Thank god.”

Diego laughs heartily in return. “You’re right, young man.” He claps a hand onto Rafe’s shoulder with a firm slap. “I’ll show you exactly what my favorite mixes are.”

Your ‘husband’ leans in close, his voice barely a whisper. “Give me your phone.”

With a quick nod, you understand what he’s up to and hand it over without hesitation. He brushes a light kiss against your cheek, then stands up and walks toward the bar with confident strides.

Andrea glances toward her husband and chuckles softly. “He talks a lot" she comments, her tone a mix of amusement and slight exasperation.

You laugh lightly, offering the most convincing smile you can muster. “But he’s a fun person though" you say lying smoothly.

Andrea’s smile falters for just a moment, but she quickly catches herself, straightening in her chair. “That he is" she agrees, her voice firm, though her posture remains slightly tense.

You rest your chin in your hands, casually tilting your head as you ask, “So what exactly does he do for work?”

-

"They're gonna gossip now, thats how women are" Diego lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head as he removes his blazer and drapes it over the chair. Rafe sits beside him, his eyes briefly flicking to the blazer eyes locking with Diego's phone 

“Definitely worth stopping by this bar" the older man says, fixing his mustache as he leans in. He gestures to the bartender “A Japanese whiskey for me, and Drew what’s your drink?”

Rafe glances at the bartender, barely pausing before responding, “Monkey 47 gin.”

Diego raises an approving eyebrow, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Good choice" he nods, clearly pleased with the order.

The older man glances at Rafe’s ring. “How long are you locked in?” he asks

Rafe flashes a controlled smile. “A year" he replies his tone even.

As the bartender sets their drinks in front of them, Rafe suppresses a sigh. He doesn't need alcohol, he needs a calming pill to dull the headache this man has been causing since they sat down.

Diego chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah still early. You haven’t gotten bored of her yet?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow “Give it another year,” Diego continues, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “You’ll find yourself in other women’s beds.”

He laughs loudly, and Rafe follows suit "Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be happening,” Rafe responds, taking a long, deliberate sip from his drink.

“That’s what they say" Diego says with a smirk, clinking his glass against Rafe’s.

Rafe nods and casually shifts the conversation. “So, you mentioned you’re building a summer house in Greece? Where exactly?”

The mention of Greece seems to spark Diego’s interest, and he immediately launches into a detailed, unfiltered explanation of the project. Rafe listens with mild disinterest, nodding as Diego rambles on about things he doesn’t need to know.

Seizing the opportunity, Rafe leans in a little closer, subtly grabbing a napkin from the bar. He carefully blocks Diego’s line of sight, then drops a crushed pill into his drink. Satisfied with his handiwork, he pats the napkin on his forehead, a faint chuckle escaping him.

Once he’s done, Rafe straightens up and dabs the napkin on his forehead, flashing a playful smile. “Even though we’re in the middle of the sea, it’s still hot" 

Diego nods and takes a long sip of his drink. Rafe watches closely, yeah, drink it all, he thinks, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

It doesn’t take long for the pill to take effect. Diego’s stomach suddenly rumbles loudly, an unsettling sound that echoes across the table. “Oho" he laughs awkwardly, rubbing his stomach. “Guess that’s what alcohol does to you" he adds with a half-hearted chuckle. “Excuse me for a minute.”

He rises from his seat, too distracted by the uncomfortable noises coming from his gut to remember his blazer. It’s left hanging over the back of his chair as he hurries toward the restroom, his movements hurried and clumsy.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Rafe casually signals for another drink, ensuring the bartender is preoccupied with the order. The last thing Rafe needs is to draw attention right now.

Once the bartender walks away, Rafe quickly slides Diego’s phone from his jacket pocket, tapping it against your phone to establish the connection. A small loading icon appears on the screen, the seconds stretching out as Rafe’s heart rate picks up.

“Come on" he mutters under his breath, his eyes scanning the room with calculated precision. He carefully hides both phones in his hand, slipping them out of view as he shifts slightly in his seat. His gaze flicks around the restaurant, making sure no one is paying attention.

Rafe tenses for a split second as he feels a hand land on his shoulder, but his nerves immediately settle when he sees it’s you.

“It’s loading" he mutters, showing you the phone, his expression tight with focus. You glance around the room, staying alert.

“Where is he?” you ask quietly, your eyes scanning for any sign of Diego.

“Bathroom" Rafe replies with a smirk. “I slipped antacids in his drink.” He snorts lightly, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

“Andrea went to her room,” You say, frustration threading through your words as you glance at the screen. “Why is it taking so long?” The progress bar is at 60%, the numbers slowly crawling up.

Rafe lets out a long sigh, his eyes narrowing at the phone. “Weak signals" he mutters, tapping the screen in frustration.

You nod, your gaze instinctively shifting toward the door. A chill of anticipation runs through you, and you grab Rafe’s arm, shaking it urgently. “He’s coming.”

Rafe’s eyes snap wide in surprise, and he looks between me and the door. “What- how did he get back so fast?” his gaze shifting from Diego’s approaching figure to yours.

Diego's eyes scan the table, landing on the two of us. He smiles, a wide. You put head against Rafe’s shoulder, letting your body relax into him, acting far more drunk than you feel. Your words come out thick and sluggish. “Baby… let’s go to bed already" You slur, leaning in just a little closer to him, movements slow and exaggerated.

“Ooh, looks like someone’s had a bit too much to drink,” Diego chuckles as he approaches the table, his grin widening as he eyes you.

Rafe lets out a soft laugh, keeping his tone light. “She never handles alcohol well,” he says, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

You pout dramatically, pointing an unsteady finger at both of them. “Are you two… or four? I see four of you- making fun of me" you slur your voice thick with fake indignation.

Diego raises his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “This is my cue to leave and find my wife.”

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you scramble for a reply. “She uh she went to bed" you blurt out trying to keep him from leaving too soon.

Diego pauses then glances toward the other side of the restaurant. “Well in that case, I’d better head out too.” He grabs his blazer from the chair, straightening it over his arm.

Rafe glances at the phone the loading bar at 99%. Thinking fast he stands quickly forcing a smile. “What about another drink? On me" he offers smoothly.

Diego shakes his head already turning away. “No, no, I’m having some… issues" he mutters rubbing his stomach. “Maybe another time.” 

Just as Diego turns to leave you speak up, your voice slightly slurred. “Sir you- I saw it in your eyes. You know art" you say, throwing in a fake hiccup for effect. “So… the next time I’m having-”

Rafe shifts closer to him, glancing at the phone just as it hits 100%.

“-an art event, you’ll be the first to get an invite" you finish, flashing him a tipsy but charming smile.

Diego chuckles clearly amused. “I’ll hold you to that invite" he replies, patting his chest lightly.

As he adjusts his blazer, Rafe deftly slips the phone back into the pocket, his movements smooth and unnoticed.

“I’d better head out. Have a nice night" Diego says giving a polite nod before walking away.

You exhale softly, your shoulders finally relaxing as Rafe straightens up beside you, his hand brushing lightly against your back. “Well, that was close" he mutters his lips curving into a sly smirk.

“Where’s my Oscar?” you huff dramatically, fanning yourself with your hand as if you’d just delivered the performance of a lifetime.

Rafe nudges you rolling his eyes. “Don’t get cocky. Now text Pope.”

You snatch your phone back, the victorious grin fading as you refocus on the task at hand. Fingers flying over the screen, you quickly relay the update to Pope while Rafe gently steers you toward your suite. His hand rests lightly on your back, guiding you through the dimly lit hallway as the adrenaline from the evening begins to settle.

“So?” you press impatiently into the phone, already sprawled on the bed in your pajamas. Your elbows prop you up as you wait for Pope’s answer. Rafe lies beside you, his ear next to your phone, listening intently.

Pope lets out a long sigh. “Well, I’ve gone through his messages just the usual back and forth with his friends, his wife… and a few other women" he adds, his tone laced with annoyance. “There’s also some correspondence with Bojan, but nothing suspicious in the texts. Just location and time details, supposedly for buying jewelry, but we know that’s bullshit.”

Rafe groans softly, running a hand over his face. “Did you check his files?” he asks, his tone sharp with frustration.

“Yeah” Pope replies flatly. “Only porn.”

You roll your eyes, falling back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. “Of course" 

“I’ll keep digging and let you know if I find anything. Good luck, guys" Pope says before the line goes dead.

You sigh heavily, dropping your phone onto the mattress and letting your head fall back against the pillow. “Well, that was useless" you mutter staring at the ceiling.

Rafe runs a hand through shaved hair, his frustration barely contained. “We’ll find something"

Turning your head, you glance at him. The faint glow of moonlight from outside casts soft shadows across his sharp features, and for a brief moment, his confidence eases your tension. “Tomorrow the real game begins"

But deep down, the nerves linger. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t anxious. The weight of the mission is pressing down on you, you'll be all alone, with Rafe. In an island where maybe, you won't even come out alive 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push those thoughts aside. There’s no room for doubt now, not when everything depends on what happens next. Rafe shifts beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“Get some rest," he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

You nod silently, closing your eyes and letting the tension in your body ease just enough. 

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, and just as you’re about to drift off, Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“You looked pretty tonight" he says suddenly.

Your eyes flutter open, turning toward him in surprise. He’s lying on his back arms tucked under his head staring out the window.

And that made your stomach flutter. It was simple maybe even fake but it didn’t stop the warmth from creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful the lights were off, hiding the blush you couldn’t quite control.

“Uh thanks…?” you mumble, shifting slightly. “What’s with the sudden compliment?”

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know" he says after a beat. “The way that guy was talking about his wife earlier it was disgusting. So I figured I’d give my wife a proper compliment.”

A laugh escapes you, soft and amused. “Fake wife" you correct raising a brow.

Rafe scoffs, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Same thing.”

“Go to sleep" you say, shaking your head with a smile, closing your eyes again.

Instead of listening, Rafe leans closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “What if I want to cuddle with my wife tonight?”

You roll your eyes, placing a hand on his face and pushing him back. “Sleep Rafe" you say firmly, though you can’t help the small grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckles softly, settling back into his spot. Within moments, the room falls quiet again

"Do you really think-"

"Good night Rafe"

"Night angel"

[grandline-fics]

Can you do the nightmare wedding scenario with Luffy, Sanji, and Ussop

DESCRIPTION: They have a nightmare that you marry someone else

WARNINGS: little bit of brief angst/insecurity but it's kept light for the most part

CHARACTERS: Luffy, Usopp | Law, Zoro, | Ace, Shanks, Mihawk, Kid, Katakuri

WORDS: 1,653

A/N: Thank you for the request. I loved the past versions of this prompt so I was happy to return to it. Sadly I wasn't able to think of something unique for Sanji so left it to just Luffy and Usopp. It's my first time writing for Usopp so hopefully I got his character right and that you like what I came up with for this.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

LUFFY

Love was a word Luffy knew a great deal about in all of its various meanings and depths. He loved freedom and adventure, discovering each new island and opportunity to explore like a restless electricity ran through his nerves. His love for food and fun was quite literally sating a deep hunger leaving him content and filled. The love he had for his brothers was deep and intense, sadly sometimes painful but it was a hurt he bore willingly and without complaint. His crew and friends brought out a love that left him feeling stronger, fierce, and determined to protect. 

You were all those feelings wrapped into one amazing person that Luffy knew he couldn’t and wouldn’t be without. Being separated from you for two years and losing Ace had been the massive wake up call to his feelings for you. He truly didn’t think he would ever have to endure that sharp twisting feeling of shock and pain when it came to you again. Oh how wrong he was because now here he stood looking at your smiling so brightly and staring at only Trafalgar Law with your entire attention raptly on the other Captain, your hand interwoven and anchored into his; refusing to let go. 

On the one hand, seeing you smile made Luffy want to smile too but on the other hand, why did you have to be looking at his supposed ally like that? Robin had warned him that pirate alliances usually ended up in betrayal but this was a hundred times worse than what he ever could have imagined. Then it got worse when Luffy stared in horror as you and Law exchanged rings and vowed to be each other’s spouse forever and complete the declaration with a kiss. 

With a yell Luffy woke, launching himself out onto the floor. In his dream he’d tried to leap between you and Law before your lips could connect but he had been so tightly invested in it that his actions had carried through his subconscious. Groggily he rubbed his eyes and got to his feet blearily looking around the empty Crow’s Nest. The memory of the dream fresh in his mind, Luffy wasted no further time in racing down the mast and to the sleeping quarters. 

The door slammed open loudly causing you to wake with a jolt, eyes barely opened and alarmed when you felt someone leap onto your bed and grip your shoulders. Instinctively you grabbed the person’s wrists and blinked through your tiredness to become even more confused to see Luffy staring at you intensely. “Wh- what’s… Luffy? What’s wrong?”

“As your Captain you’re not allowed to marry Tra-guy ever!” His order did nothing to help bring you out of the heavy fog of sleep. You scrunched your face up in confusion, you recognised the words but the context of the order just didn’t make sense. 

“Marry Law?” You mumbled with a yawn. “What’d’you mean?”

“I know he’s smart and whatever but this is your crew. You can’t leave-”

“Luffy.” You stopped your Captain with a light squeeze of his hand and smiled at him sleepily. “I’m not leaving the crew, relax.” Your voice was soothing at it was a relief to hear you say you weren’t leaving but still Luffy couldn’t shake the uncomfortable twist in his stomach. 

Feeling your hands over his helped with ridding him of the image of Law’s hands over yours. Luffy took a breath and kept his gaze on you, heavily frowning at your lips, the image of Law’s about to claim yours making him glare. Before you could ask what was wrong you blinked in surprise when Luffy kissed you. It wasn't the first time you’d kissed, your relationship with the Captain was one neither of you really thought to put a label on, just deciding to enjoy how things naturally progressed. This was the first time however that Luffy’s lips pressed against yours so insistently, like he was trying to prove something.

Given his confusing statement about you and Law marrying you could connect the dots now that you’d woken enough. With a smile you pulled back and lifted your hands away to wrap Luffy into a hug and lay back down on the bed. Your smile grew when Luffy adjusted his arms to hold you tightly, your body already feeling the pull to go back to sleep. As you smiled contently you tucked your head under Luffy’s chin, falling back to sleep to the sleepy mumbles of your Captain cursing out Law for being an idiot if he thought he could ever have you.

USOPP

“Usopp! I have to tell someone before I burst!” Your excited voice shot through his concentration as he sat working in his workshop. Immediately Usopp turned to smile at you, his own excitement mirroring yours. You were truly the only one that was capable of stealing his attention no matter what the situation. You slid to a stop in front of him, hands reaching out instinctively to take his into your hold, your excitement only growing with each second. “I can’t believe this is happening!”

“Well come on, tell me already!” Usopp laughed trying to keep you concentrated on the mystery topic that he now couldn’t wait to be part of. 

“I’m getting married!” Your exclamation caused Usopp’s face to freeze in shock, his previous smile twitching into one of disbelief, thinking you were pulling a prank on him. How could you get married? He hadn’t proposed to you yet. While you’d both been together for a while and he loved you, he’d been too much of a coward to say those three little but massive words to you. Mostly he told himself it was too soon, really though he’d convinced himself that if he did confess the full weight of his feelings to you, you’d crush him by saying you didn’t feel the same.

“O-oh! Th-that’s…great!” He forced out tightly, unwilling to see you upset for not taking your news well. “Wh-who’s the lucky guy?“

“That’s the amazing thing!” You all but swooned as you thought about your betrothed. “He’s a real hero and warrior! So brave and strong, you’ll love him! Promise you’ll come to the wedding, please Usopp?” Your request was spoken so sweet and earnestly that again, despite the painful punch to his heart Usopp refused to show it. Unable to say no he ground his teeth together before forcing himself to nod, flinching when you let out a cheer and threw your arms around him to hug him tightly, thanking him.

In the blink of an eye you were no longer hugging him and Usopp was no longer in the workshop. Instead he stood on the deck of the Sunny, hearing the rest of the crew laughing happily as they waited for the wedding to start. Usopp kept his head down, trying to avoid the reality of the situation for as long as he could. When your laughter sounded Usopp slowly looked up and let out a shriek of shock to see who your were marrying standing at the altar, arms folded tightly and face completely hidden by the all too familiar mask. “Sogeking?!” He demanded in disbelief managing to stagger over to you, his head spinning at the development. How was this even possible? “You’re marrying Sogeking?”

“Of course!” You beamed, oblivious to Usopp’s distress as you left Usopp’s side to approach his secret persona. “Look at him. Isn’t he perfect? There’s no one else I’d ever consider marrying. Only him.”

With a gasp Usopp woke and covered his eyes, slowly working on calming his breathing as he realised everything was a dream. Just a stupid dream. Sighing in relief he rolled his eyes at his own silly mind. Of course it was a dream. Then his mind began to stir up uncomfortable thoughts once more. Why were you with a coward like him? He wouldn’t blame you for choosing someone else to marry. Just as he was about to spiral more, he jumped in surprise when you rolled over in your sleep, your arms tightening over his as your lay your head on his shoulder. As if sensing how tense he was, you stirred and woke with a small sleepy hum. “Usopp?”

“I’m okay…”

“Liar.” You sleepily mumbled, pulling yourself closer lifting your head up to press a small kiss to his cheek. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah…” Usopp sighed, moving to hold you close. You always could see through him. Swallowing hard, he began to think of the deeper meaning the dream must have had and cleared his throat. Bracing himself he blurted out. “I love you.”

“Usopp.” Usopp flinched and prepared himself for your rejection but it didn’t come. Instead you sat up to face him fully, smiling happier than he’d ever seen you show before. “I love you too.”

“Thank goodness! I thought you’d call me an idiot or something…” He sighed with a nervous laugh. You smiled softly, shaking your head at your boyfriend’s timid nature. You knew he could be brave when he needed to be, it was just a shame he didn’t have the same amount of faith in himself that you had in him. “Also, you should know I’m Sogeking. No one else. If anyone says they are, they’re lying. Okay?”

You stared at Usopp in surprise. You and everyone on the crew- except for Luffy and Chopper- knew that Usopp was Sogeking. It was obvious but you didn’t have the heart to disappoint him by telling him that so instead you slowly nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with the truth. You really must love me to tell me that.”

“Of course I do!” Usopp declared, offering you a proud grin as you kissed his forehead and lay back down, allowing him to hold you close and sleep dreams better than his last one.

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost

[thequeenofneverland1]

Hwang In-ho/Frontman////The Frontman's Secret

Anonymous request: Hi can you write a imagine for Hwang In-ho thanks

Warnings: Violence, Deaths, Trauma, Betrayal, Paranoia, Pregnancy, Manipulation, Emotional Distress and spoiler alert 🚨 

You and the players are gathered around sitting down, sharing a rare moment of calm amid the chaos. The tension of survival has made every bite of food feel like a luxury. Laughter and hushed conversations weave through the air, but you’re mostly focused on Jung-bae. You’ve always respected him for his calm demeanor and resourcefulness, so when he leans in slightly, his tone quieter and more serious, your attention shifts entirely to him.

“Y/n,” Jung-bae begins, his voice soft but deliberate, his eyes carrying a weight that immediately makes your chest tighten. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. You remind me of my own daughter. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I’ve started seeing you as one, too. And because of that, I feel like I need to tell you something. About Young-il.”

At the mention of Young-il, your boyfriend, your heart skips a beat. The edges of your vision seem to blur as you focus entirely on Jung-bae’s expression. There’s something there hesitation, fear maybe, but mostly guilt. He lowers his voice even more, glancing around to ensure no one else is listening.

“You remember the Mingle game, right? When it came down to two players in each room?”

You nod, your mind racing as you recall the chaos of that day. The screams, the betrayals, the cold calculation it took to survive.

“Well…” Jung-bae exhales sharply, like he’s trying to summon the courage to say the words. “Me and him..Me and Young-il. we ended up in the same room. There was already another player in there when we got there, and…”

He falters, looking at you with an expression that’s equal parts regret and urgency. “Y/n, he—”

“Jung-bae,” a firm, familiar voice interrupts. You turn to see Young-il standing there, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed in that way that sends a chill down your spine. He’s always had a knack for commanding attention, but there’s something different about him now something darker.

“Am I interrupting something?” Young-il’s voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it, like he knows exactly what Jung-bae was about to say. His gaze shifts between the two of you, lingering on Jung-bae just a little too long.

Jung-bae straightens, his expression carefully neutral. “No, we were just—”

“I don’t think Y/n needs to hear any unnecessary stories,” Young-il cuts him off, his tone final. He moves closer to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. The gesture feels possessive rather than protective, and it takes everything in you not to recoil.

You glance back at Jung-bae, whose jaw is clenched tight, his eyes darting between you and Young-il. There’s something he wants to say, you can see it in the way his lips part slightly, but he doesn’t. The room feels suffocating now, the earlier camaraderie all but gone.

“I think we should all get some rest,” Young-il says, his voice softer now, directed at you. “It’s been a long day.”

You nod slowly, even as unease twists in your stomach. Young-il hand lingers on your shoulder a moment too long before he turns and walks away.

As he disappears into the shadows, you look back at Jung-bae. He’s still sitting there, his eyes filled with frustration and a silent apology. You don’t know what he was going to say about Young-il, but now, more than ever, you feel like you need to find out.

Later that night, you find yourself sitting on one of the worn-out beds with Young-il. The dim light overhead casts long shadows across the room, and the silence is heavy, broken only by the faint sounds of other players shifting or murmuring in their sleep.

He sits next to you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his presence, but his body language is off. His arms are crossed loosely, and his gaze is distant, staring at a spot on the floor as though it holds some deep secret.

You study him for a moment, your mind replaying Jung-bae’s unfinished words over and over again. You’ve tried to push it aside, tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, but the unease refuses to leave you. Finally, you can’t hold back any longer.

“Young-il,” you begin softly, your voice cutting through the quiet. He turns his head slightly, looking at you with a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“What is it?” he asks, his tone calm and gentle, but there’s something underneath it a tension you can’t ignore.

You hesitate, feeling a lump form in your throat, but you push through it. “Did… did something happen in that room? During the Mingle game?”

The question hangs in the air like a heavy cloud. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, his face unreadable. Then, he exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“Y/n, where is this coming from?” he asks, turning his body slightly to face you. “Why would you ask me something like that?”

You look down at your hands, twisting them nervously in your lap. “Jung-bae said something earlier. He started to tell me about what happened when you two were in the same room, but…” You glance up at him, searching his face for any sign of the truth. “He didn’t get to finish.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his expression softening, but his eyes remain sharp. “Jung-bae talks too much,” he says lightly, his tone laced with an edge of annoyance. “Nothing happened in that room, Y/n. You know how these games are people are always looking for someone to blame, always trying to stir up doubts.”

“But—”

“Y/n,” he interrupts, reaching out to take your hands in his. His grip is firm but not unkind, and his eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes it hard to look away. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I care about you more than anything. You know that, right?”

You nod slowly, but the knot in your stomach only tightens. His words should comfort you, but instead, they feel rehearsed, like he’s trying too hard to convince you.

“I just… I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me,” you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly.

He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “There’s nothing to tell,” he whispers. “I promise you.”

For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You want to believe him. But as you sit there, his hands holding yours, the shadows in the room seem to grow darker, and the doubt in your heart refuses to fade.

The following morning, the air is heavy with unspoken tension as the group prepares for whatever the next challenge might bring. Everyone moves with a quiet urgency, the weight of the games pressing down on them. Jung-bae sits on the floor near Gi-hun, pretending to sharpen a makeshift tool. His movements are slow, deliberate, as if he’s buying himself time to gather his thoughts.

Gi-hun notices his demeanor and frowns slightly. “You’ve been quiet this morning,” he remarks, sitting down beside Jung-bae. “Something on your mind?”

Jung-bae doesn’t respond immediately. He keeps his focus on the tool in his hands, his expression distant. Finally, he exhales deeply and sets the tool aside, turning to face Gi-hun.

“Gi-hun,” Jung-bae begins, his tone unusually serious. “I need to ask you for a favor.”

Gi-hun’s brows furrow. “A favor? What kind of favor?”

Jung-bae leans in closer, lowering his voice so only Gi-hun can hear. “I want you to promise me something. If anything happens to me. if I don’t make it through this game. I need you to take care of Y/n. And not just her. everyone in our group. But especially Y/n.”

The words hit Gi-hun like a punch to the gut. He stares at Jung-bae, searching his face for an explanation. “What are you talking about? Why would you say that? Are you… are you planning something?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jung-bae says quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I need to know that she’ll be safe. That someone will look out for her.”

Gi-hun narrows his eyes, his suspicion growing. “Why are you talking like this, Jung-bae? You’re not making sense. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jung-bae insists, though the tension in his voice betrays him. He looks away, his jaw tightening. “I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about what it takes to survive here. The things we’ve had to do. The things we might have to do.”

Gi-hun crosses his arms, still unconvinced. “This isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”

Jung-bae hesitates, his hands clenching into fists on his lap. For a brief moment, it looks like he might say something more, but then he shakes his head again. “It’s nothing. Just… promise me, okay? If I’m not here, you’ll look after her.”

“Jung-bae…”Gi-hun begins, but the older man cuts him off.

“Promise me,” Jung-bae repeats, his voice firm, his eyes pleading.

Gi-hun sighs, the weight of the request settling heavily on his shoulders. “Alright,” he says reluctantly. “I promise. But you’re going to have to tell me what this is really about sooner or later.”

Jung-bae gives him a faint smile, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Gi-hun. That means a lot.”

As Gi-hun watches Jung-bae stand and walk away, his concern only deepens. There’s something Jung-bae isn’t telling him, something important. And though he doesn’t press the issue now, he makes a silent vow to find out what it is.

Later that day, you’re sitting with Young-ll in the dimly lit at the dormitory, trying to distract yourself from the weight of the competition. The two of you exchange light conversation, your laughter quiet but genuine small moments of humanity in a place that feels anything but human.

“You know,” Young-ll says, leaning back against the wall, “I was never much of a team player before all this. Guess this place has a way of forcing you to see people differently.”

You nod, resting your chin on your knees. “Yeah. It’s funny how survival makes you care about people you probably wouldn’t even notice outside of here.”

Young-ll chuckles softly, but his smile fades as his gaze shifts to something or someone behind you. You follow his line of sight and see Gi-hun approaching, his expression as serious as ever. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“Y/n, Young-ll,” Gi-hun greets, sitting down next to you. He glances between the two of you before settling his gaze on you. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Jung-bae’s been acting really weird lately.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Young-ll speaks first, his tone casual but with an edge of defensiveness. “He’s just nervous,” Young-ll says, shrugging. “The games are getting down to the wire, and everyone’s feeling the pressure. It’s normal.”

Gi-hun frowns, clearly not convinced. “It’s more than that. He’s been avoiding people, staying quiet, and the way he talks. it’s like he’s expecting something bad to happen. Like he’s preparing for it.”

Young-ll leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Can you blame him? These games mess with your head. Everyone’s scared, everyone’s paranoid. Jung-bae’s probably just dealing with it in his own way.”

You glance between the two men, sensing the tension in their voices. “Maybe we’re all just overthinking it,” you suggest cautiously, though you can’t ignore the knot of unease forming in your stomach.

Gi-hu looks at you, his brow furrowed. “Maybe. But if something’s going on, we need to know about it. We’re supposed to be a team, and if someone’s hiding something—”

“Gi-hun,” Young-ll interrupts, his tone firmer now. “Drop it, alright? Jung-bae’s fine. He’s been looking out for us since the beginning. Don’t start questioning him now just because he’s a little on edge.”

GI-hun opens his mouth to argue, but then he stops, exhaling sharply. “Fine,” he mutters, leaning back against the wall. “But I’m keeping an eye on him. Just in case.”

Young-ll shakes his head, giving you a quick glance and a reassuring smile. “He’s overthinking it,” he says softly, as if to put you at ease. “Jung-bae’s just nervous, like I said. No need to worry.”

But even as he says it, you can’t help but notice the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. It’s brief, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make you wonder if Young-ll truly believes his own words or if he’s just trying to convince himself.

As Gi-hun stands, brushing off his knees and heading toward the rest of the group, you and Young-ll sit quietly, watching his retreating figure. His concern about Jung-bae lingers in your mind, intertwining with your own growing doubts. The atmosphere feels heavier than before, the unspoken questions filling the silence between you and Young-ll.

You glance over at him, studying his profile. His expression is calm, maybe too calm, as if he’s deliberately masking something. The way he dismissed Gi-hun concerns earlier had been convincing, but now, in the quiet, you wonder if there’s more to it.

“Young-ll,” you begin softly, breaking the silence. He turns his head slightly to look at you, his eyebrows raised in question.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice casual, though his eyes betray a flicker of something guarded.

You hesitate for a moment, then press on. “Are you sure there’s nothing going on? Between you and Jung-bae, or… just in general? If there’s something you’re not telling me, I’d rather know.”

Young-ll’s expression hardens for a fraction of a second before he forces a smile, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re worrying too much, Y/n,” he says, his tone light but firm. “Jung-bae’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let it drop. “Young-ll, please. I can tell when someone’s holding back. If there’s something I should know, just tell me. I can handle it.”

For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze shifting past you as though he’s trying to find an escape. The silence stretches, heavy and uncertain, until he finally meets your eyes again. But instead of answering, he leans in without warning, his hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips press against yours.

The kiss is sudden, catching you completely off guard. Your heart pounds in your chest, and for a moment, the world seems to blur, the weight of the games and all your questions momentarily falling away. His touch is warm, his presence grounding, and yet there’s something desperate about the way he holds you. like he’s trying to distract you, to keep you from asking any more questions.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His eyes search yours, his expression a mix of longing and something you can’t quite place fear, maybe, or regret.

“You don’t need to worry, Y/n,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just trust me.”

But as he pulls away completely, the doubt in your chest only deepens. His kiss may have silenced your questions for the moment, but it hasn’t erased them. If anything, it’s only made you more certain that Young-ll is hiding something. And you’re determined to find out what it is.

The tension in the air is palpable as you and Young-ll sit together in the dimly lit corner of the room, the quiet hum of the environment only accentuating the weight of the conversation unfolding between you two. The games have worn on you both, the stakes getting higher with every challenge, and despite the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders, there’s a shared silence that speaks volumes.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you ask the question that’s been gnawing at you. “What do you think happens if we actually make it out of here? If we survive and manage to get out of this hellhole… what happens then? Do you think we’ll be able to go back to some kind of normal life?”

Young-ll shifts next to you, his expression thoughtful. His eyes seem far away, almost like he’s not truly seeing you as he focuses on something in the distance. For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice low, almost hesitant.

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Part of me wants to believe we could go back to normal, that we could forget this place and pretend like none of it ever happened. But I think we both know it’s impossible. After everything we’ve been through, after the choices we’ve made, nothing can ever be the same again.”

You nod slowly, feeling the truth in his words. The games, the violence, the way everyone around you has changed. it’s left its mark. Even if you made it out alive, you wonder if you could ever truly find peace again.

“Yeah,” you murmur, looking at him, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “But even if everything’s different, I don’t want this to be the end of it. I don’t want this to be the last chapter. I want to rebuild something… whatever that might look like. After all this, I just want to try to find some kind of peace.”

Young-ll turns to you, his eyes softer now, more intense, and there’s a kind of vulnerability in them that you haven’t seen before. His gaze locks with yours, and suddenly, everything feels a little too close, too personal.

“You’re not hearing me, Y/n,” he says, his voice deep and firm, the words more urgent than before. “I don’t care about ‘normal.’ I don’t care about rebuilding a life that doesn’t make sense anymore. What I care about… is you. No matter what happens, no matter where this game leads us, no matter what we face once we get out of here, I need you to promise me something.”

Your breath catches at his intensity. Something in his words feels different, like there’s more hidden beneath the surface than he’s letting on. The air between you thickens, and you feel the weight of the moment press against your chest.

“What is it?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

Young-ll leans in just a little closer, his hand reaching for yours, fingers brushing softly against your skin. His eyes are full of something you can’t quite place something you don’t want to understand just yet.

“Promise me,” he says quietly, his voice barely a whisper, “that you’ll be with me. No matter what happens, wherever I go, I need you by my side. Promise me you’ll stay with me, Y/n.”

The sincerity in his voice hits you hard, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades into the background. His plea feels genuine, raw, and you find yourself drawn to him in a way that almost scares you. He’s asking for more than just companionship; he’s asking for loyalty, for a bond that might be impossible to break.

“I promise,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be with you. No matter what happens.”

What you don’t know, what he hasn’t told you, is that his request is not just a plea for partnership. It’s a plea for something darker, something far beyond the world you thought you understood. Young-ll isn’t just asking you to stay with him in the aftermath of the games. He’s asking you to join him in something much more dangerous something he’s already deeply entrenched in.

In the shadows of this twisted game, Young-ll is not just a player. He is the frontman the key figure in the organization behind the games. His role isn’t just to survive; it’s to control, to lead, to maintain the structure of the very system you’ve been fighting against. But this isn’t what he wants to offer you.

Deep down, he does care for you. Despite everything, despite the ruthless nature of his role, he loves you in a way he never thought he could love anyone. He’s seen the horrors of the game, the choices it’s forced him to make, but when it comes to you, he’s different. He wants to pull you into his world, but not just because it’s all he knows. He wants to protect you, to make you part of his life, part of the future he’s building one that, for better or worse, will never be ordinary again.

As you sit there, your hand in his, promising to stand by his side, he feels a surge of hope mixed with a deep sense of regret. The life he’s built, the world he’s a part of, isn’t one you can easily escape. But he’s determined to bring you into it, hoping against hope that love can somehow change things.

And as the promise hangs between you two, neither of you knows what the future holds, but for the first time in a long while, you both dare to believe that, together, you might just survive whatever comes next.

The night has grown quieter, the dim light casting long shadows across the room as you and Young-ll finally rejoin the rest of the group. You both had stepped away earlier to talk, the weight of the conversation still heavy on your shoulders, but now, you find yourself swept back into the rhythm of the group. Despite everything that’s happened the tension, the games, the unknown future there’s a strange comfort in being surrounded by familiar faces, even if only for a moment.

As you sit down, the laughter of your friends fills the air, the conversation shifting to lighter topics, even though the uncertainty of the situation looms in the background. Hyun-ju, ever the bubbly one, leans forward, a teasing smile on her face as she looks from you to Young-ll.

“So,” she says, her voice playful yet genuine. “When are you two getting married?” Her words hang in the air, and for a second, it feels like the room goes quiet, all eyes now on you and Young-ll.

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden question, and Young-ll chuckles lightly, looking a little more amused than you expected. “Marriage?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “We’re not even out of here yet. Isn’t it a little early to be talking about that?”

Hyun-ju laughs, clearly not taking the question too seriously. “I mean, if you two end up making it out of here alive, it seems like a good reason to celebrate, right? Maybe it’s better to plan ahead in case we don’t make it. If you’re going to get married, though, you should invite everyone here. You can’t leave us out of it!”

The suggestion is lighthearted, almost playful, but there’s something in the way she says it that makes the conversation feel more real than it should. It’s as though, for just a moment, the horrors of the games and the looming danger that surrounds you all are forgotten in favor of something that resembles normalcy something that feels far away from this nightmarish reality.

You glance at Young-ll, unsure of how to respond, but before you can find your words, Jung-bae, who has been sitting quietly nearby, suddenly coughs loudly. His eyes flicker nervously toward the floor as he shifts uncomfortably on floor, as though the conversation had caught him off guard.

The atmosphere shifts almost imperceptibly, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. You can sense that something is off with Jung-bae, his unease palpable. His gaze lingers on the group for a moment longer than necessary, his hand gripping the edge of the table in a way that suggests he’s trying to stay calm, but there’s a tension in his posture.

Hyun-ju, unaware of the sudden shift in energy, continues to smile, waiting for a response, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jung-bae’s discomfort. He hasn’t spoken much since you and Young-ll returned, and you can’t help but wonder if his reaction is tied to something deeper.

You glance back at Jung-bae, your mind racing as you recall his earlier words. He had tried to warn you about something involving Young-ll something that happened in that room but he never finished the conversation. He had been interrupted by Young-il, and you still haven’t gotten the full story. The anxiety building in his chest now seems to speak volumes.

The room, which had been filled with lighthearted chatter only moments before, suddenly feels heavy. The playful banter around marriage, which was supposed to lift your spirits, only makes everything seem more fragile more uncertain. Jung-bae’s cough had broken the moment, but it also revealed the thinly veiled tension between the group, the underlying secrets that have yet to come to light.

You exchange a glance with Young-ll, who seems unfazed by the playful teasing, but there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. his expression still relaxed, but you sense that, like you, he knows something isn’t quite right.

Hyun-ju, still waiting for an answer, leans forward, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Come on, you two. Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. You could be the first to escape and get married. Maybe we could have a big celebration once we’re all out of here if you both want that, of course.”

The room goes quiet again as her words linger in the air. The awkwardness thickens, and you wonder if the playful remark has touched on something deeper that no one is ready to talk about. Jung-bae’s fidgeting only amplifies your suspicion. Something is clearly bothering him, but he doesn’t seem ready to share.

You turn your attention back to Young-ll, who’s still sitting beside you, a small, thoughtful smile playing at the edges of his lips. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts in your head. But as you meet his gaze, you wonder if he knows more than he’s letting on if he’s hiding something from the group, something that ties back to Jung-bae’s strange behavior.

But before you can say anything more, Gi-hun, who’s been silent until now, clears his throat, looking at Jung-bae with a concerned frown. “You okay, Jung-bae?” he asks. “You’re looking a little off tonight. Did something happen?”

Jung-bae freezes, his eyes darting around the group as though looking for an escape. His lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, he seems to hesitate before responding. But all he says is, “I’m fine. Just tired. I think we all need rest, that’s all.”

His words, though spoken with an air of finality, don’t seem to convince anyone. The tension is thick now, and though Hyun-ju tries to keep the mood light by continuing to joke about the hypothetical wedding, it’s clear that something deeper is at play something that none of you are ready to face.

As the conversation dies down, you sit back, quietly processing everything. The uncertainty of the future, the unease you feel from Jung-bae, and the unspoken tension between you and Young-ll. Despite the lightheartedness that’s returned to the group’s banter, you know that what’s truly happening beneath the surface is far more complicated, and it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.

The room is filled with the low murmur of conversation as everyone eats, the exhaustion from the day’s events hanging in the air. You sit at the table with the rest of the group, the food almost tasteless, but a necessary distraction from the overwhelming weight of everything around you. The tension is still palpable, but for a moment, it feels like you can breathe, even if just for a while.

As you glance around the dormitory, your eyes settle on Jun-hee, who’s sitting quietly, her hand resting lightly on her stomach. Despite her exhaustion, she’s doing her best to eat, though it’s clear that her mind is elsewhere. You notice the untouched milk beside her plate. She’s been struggling to keep enough food down lately, and you know it’s because of her pregnancy.

You nudge the carton of milk closer to her, your voice soft but insistent. “Here’s mine. You need it more than me.”

Jun-hee looks at the milk for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she shakes her head. “Thank you,” she says quietly, “but I don’t need it.”

You shake your head gently, not ready to let her off the hook so easily. “Just take it. You do need it,” you insist, your voice firm but caring. “You know, because of your baby. And besides, I can’t have white milk.”

Her eyes soften slightly at your words, but she hesitates, clearly reluctant. You can see the hesitation in her expression, but before she can respond, a familiar voice interrupts the moment, and you feel a slight shift in the air.

“I was about to give you my milk,” Young-ll says, his voice light with playful teasing. You look up, and there he is, standing by your side with a grin on his face and a carton of milk in his hand. “Now that I know that you can’t have white, what a coincidence we have. I can’t have white milk either.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a small laugh escaping your lips at the sheer coincidence. He’s always been one to bring humor to tense moments, and this is no exception. You shake your head, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“You too?” you say with mock disbelief, eyeing him dramatically. “What is it with you and milk? I should’ve known, of course. You and I are basically the same person.”

Young-ll chuckles at your response, the playful glint in his eyes not entirely masking the underlying seriousness that’s always there. “What can I say?” he replies with a shrug. “Great minds think alike.”

You glance back at Jun-hee, who’s still holding the milk carton you offered her. The smile on your face fades for a moment as you turn your attention to her, noticing the concern in her eyes. The lighthearted exchange between you and Young-ll has offered some much-needed relief, but you know it doesn’t solve everything.

“You should take it, Jun-hee,” you say softly, your tone gentle but persistent. “We all need to stick together, especially now. We’re all in this mess together.”

She meets your gaze, her lips pressing into a tight line before she finally nods, taking the milk from your hands. “Thanks, Y/n,” she says quietly. “I’ll drink it.”

You watch her for a moment, relieved that she’s accepted, but you can’t shake the worry that continues to settle in the pit of your stomach. The games are far from over, and even in this small, quiet moment of connection, you all know that danger is never too far away.

As everyone continues to eat, you glance back at Young-ll, catching his eye. For a brief second, the world around you feels like it’s standing still, just the two of you in your own bubble. The fleeting moment of calm doesn’t last long, but for now, it’s enough.

The evening wears on, and the group begins to scatter after dinner, some retreating to their beds while others linger in small groups, talking in hushed tones. You find yourself standing by one of the walls, trying to collect your thoughts. The weight of everything happening around you the games, the tension, the unspoken secrets feels heavier than ever.

As you lean against the wall, lost in your thoughts, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Jung-bae walking toward you, his expression tense and hesitant. There’s something in his eyes, something heavy, like he’s carrying a burden too big to bear alone.

“Hey,” he says quietly, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice just as soft. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks around, as if checking to make sure no one else is nearby. His behavior is strange, almost paranoid, and it immediately puts you on edge.

“I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice low. “About something… important.”

You nod, stepping closer to him. “What is it?” you ask, your curiosity piqued. Jung-bae has been acting strangely for days now, and you’ve been waiting for him to open up. Maybe now you’ll finally get some answers.

Jung-bae hesitates, running a hand through his hair nervously. “It’s about Young-ll,” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s something you need to know, something that happened during the Mingle game. I’ve been trying to tell you, but…”

His words trail off, and you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. It’s clear that whatever he’s about to say isn’t easy for him. You step even closer, lowering your voice to match his.

“What is it, Jung-bae?” you ask, your heart beginning to race. “What happened?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can say anything, the sound of laughter echoes across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. You both turn to see Jun-hee and Hyun-ju walking toward you, their faces lit up with smiles, seemingly oblivious to the heaviness of the moment.

“There you two are!” Jun-hee says, her tone cheerful. “We were wondering where you disappeared to.”

Hyun-ju grins, her eyes darting between you and Jung-bae. “Are we interrupting something?” she teases, her voice light and playful.

You glance at Jung-bae, whose expression has shifted back to neutral, the tension in his face now replaced with a forced calmness. Whatever he was about to say, it’s clear that he’s not going to continue the conversation with Jun-hee and Hyun-ju here.

“No, you’re not interrupting,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone casual. “We were just… talking.”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she steps closer, linking her arm with Jun-hee’s. “Well, now that we’ve found you, why don’t we all sit together for a bit? It’s too depressing to be alone right now.”

You glance at Jung-bae again, hoping for some kind of signal that he’ll continue the conversation later, but he avoids your gaze. Instead, he nods at Hyun-ju, forcing a small smile. “Sure,” he says. “Why not?”

The four of you walk back toward the center of the room, but your mind is still spinning. What was Jung-bae about to tell you? What did he mean about Young-ll? The unanswered questions hang over you like a storm cloud, and as much as you try to focus on the present moment, you can’t shake the feeling that something big is about to come to light.

Jung-bae walks beside you, his shoulders tense, his gaze fixed straight ahead. You don’t say anything, but you make a mental note to talk to him again as soon as you get the chance. Whatever he’s hiding, you need to know. And deep down, you have a sinking feeling that whatever it is could change everything.

The room is dark and quiet, save for the faint sounds of steady breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling. Everyone is sprawled out in their designated sleeping spots, exhausted from the day’s events. It’s a rare moment of peace, though it feels fragile, as if it could shatter at any second.

Jung-bae sits against the wall, his knees pulled up slightly, arms resting on them. His eyes scan the room, landing briefly on each sleeping figure, but they linger the longest on you. You’re curled up on your side, your face peaceful in sleep, though the faint furrow in your brow betrays the stress you’re carrying. Jung-bae’s heart aches as he watches over you.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice whispers nearby, pulling him from his thoughts. He looks over to see Gi-hun sitting up a few feet away, his sharp eyes catching Jung-bae’s. Gi-hun moves closer, careful not to disturb the others, and sits down beside him.

Jung-bae shakes his head, sighing deeply. “No. Too much on my mind.”

Gi-hun leans back against the wall, his expression thoughtful as he studies his friend. “You’ve been acting weird lately,” he says, keeping his voice low. “We all see it especially Y/n. Whatever it is you’re holding back, you need to tell her. Why haven’t you?”

Jung-bae’s shoulders tense, and he lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his voice strained. “I want her to be happy. More than anything. But I also fear for her safety. What if what I tell her makes things worse? What if it puts her in danger?”

Gi-hun tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening. “You care about her,” he says quietly. “That’s clear to everyone. But keeping things from her isn’t protecting her. It’s only making her worry more. You’ve seen how she’s been looking at you lately she knows something’s wrong.”

Jung-bae closes his eyes for a moment, the weight of Gi-hun’s words sinking in. “I know,” he says finally. “And it kills me to see her like that. Just like I told you before, I see her as my daughter. She’s been through so much already. It would break my heart to see her hurt because of something I’ve done or something I’ve failed to do.”

Gi-hun nods slowly, his expression understanding. “I get it,” he says after a moment. “I really do. But keeping her in the dark isn’t the answer. She deserves to know the truth, whatever it is. And she deserves to hear it from you.”

Jung-bae looks down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting as he processes Gi-hun’s words. “I just don’t want her to think I don’t care about her happiness,” he says softly. “Because I do. More than anything.”

Gi-hun places a reassuring hand on Jung-bae’s shoulder. “She knows you care. Trust me, she does. But if you wait too long, it might be too late. You’ve got to tell her before that happens.”

Jung-bae glances at Gi-hun, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and anguish. “Thanks, Gi-hun,” he says quietly. “I’ll think about it. I just… I need to find the right moment.”

Gi-hun squeezes his shoulder gently before letting go. “I get it,” he says. “But don’t wait too long, okay? We don’t have the luxury of time in here.”

Jung-bae nods, his gaze drifting back to where you’re sleeping. His chest tightens as he watches the rise and fall of your breath, his mind racing with the weight of his decision. He knows Gi-hun is right, and deep down, he knows he can’t keep this from you much longer.

But even as he resolves to tell you the truth, a small voice in the back of his mind whispers fears of what might happen when he does. For now, he stays where he is, silently keeping watch over you, hoping that when the time comes, he’ll find the strength to do what’s right.

The quiet hum of the room seems to fade as you sit across from Young-il, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face. The tension of the games has been wearing on everyone, but here, in this moment, it feels like the rest of the world is far away. It’s just the two of you, stealing a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos.

Young-il has been unusually quiet tonight, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that’s both comforting and unnerving. You tilt your head slightly, studying him. “You’re staring,” you tease lightly, trying to break the silence. “What’s on your mind?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, his hand reaching into his pocket. Your brow furrows as you watch him, unsure of what he’s doing. When he finally pulls his hand back out, your breath catches in your throat. There, in his palm, is a small ring simple but beautiful, its understated design perfect in its elegance.

Your eyes widen as realization dawns. “Young-il…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

He shifts closer to you, his usually confident demeanor tinged with a rare vulnerability. “I know this isn’t the way I would’ve wanted to do this,” he begins, his voice soft but steady. “And it’s definitely not the perfect place or time. But nothing about this situation is perfect, is it?”

You shake your head slightly, unable to find the words as your heart races.

Young-il takes a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he continues. “About us, about what we’ve been through, and about what might come next. And no matter what happens—whether we make it out of this or not I know one thing for sure: I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your breath hitches as he holds the ring up, his voice trembling just slightly. “Will you marry me?”

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. The weight of his words, the depth of his feelings, and the sheer courage it must’ve taken for him to ask you this here, in the middle of all this madness, overwhelm you. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes,” you whisper. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you.”

Relief washes over his face, and he slips the ring onto your finger with care, his hands steady despite the gravity of the moment. It feels warm and solid, a promise of hope in a place where hope is so hard to come by.

But before you can fully process the moment, his expression grows serious again. “Listen,” he says, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You can wear the ring, but you can’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”

You blink, confused. “Why not?”

He hesitates, glancing around the room as if to make sure no one is listening. Then, he leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Because I have a feeling,” he says. “A feeling that it’s only going to be us me and you that make it out of this alive. And until we know for sure, I don’t want anyone else to know. I don’t want this to become another target on your back.”

His words send a chill down your spine, the weight of his foresight sinking in. You nod slowly, understanding his reasoning even if it makes your heart ache. “Okay,” you say softly. “I won’t tell anyone.”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly against your cheeks as he gazes at you with a mix of love and determination. “I mean it, Y/n,” he says. “No matter what happens, I’ll do everything I can to make sure you survive. To make sure we survive.”

You swallow hard, the enormity of his promise and your own feelings threatening to overwhelm you. But you nod again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “We’ll survive,” you say firmly. “Together.”

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips grounding you. For a moment, it feels like nothing else matters not the games, not the danger, not the uncertainty of tomorrow. It’s just you and him, clinging to each other in a world that seems determined to tear you apart.

As he pulls back, his fingers brush over the ring on your hand, a small, secret smile tugging at his lips. “It looks good on you,” he murmurs.

You manage a small smile in return, your fingers curling around his. “Thank you,” you whisper. “For everything.”

The two of you sit there in silence, your hands intertwined, as the weight of your secret promise settles between you. It’s a risk, but it’s also a lifeline a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love can still find a way to shine through.

The room buzzes with quiet chatter, the tension momentarily eased as the group finds comfort in each other’s company. Young-il sits off to the side, his gaze sharp and calculating as he observes everyone. His role as the Frontman is a secret he’s mastered keeping, and every move he makes is careful, deliberate. He’s learned how to blend in perfectly, to mask his true intentions behind an easy smile or a well-placed joke. But tonight, his thoughts aren’t on strategy or the games. they’re on you.

His eyes flicker to where you’re sitting, laughing softly at something Hyun-ju said. For a brief moment, the corners of his lips lift in a small, genuine smile. Then his expression hardens again, the gravity of the situation pulling him back to reality. He knows the danger that lies ahead, knows how fragile life is in this twisted arena. And he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety.

He waits, watching the group closely. They’re distracted, deep in conversation, their guard lowered for just a moment. It’s the perfect time. Rising to his feet, he stretches casually, as if he’s simply restless, before moving quietly toward the shadows where a pink-suited guard stands near the corner of the room.

Young-il’s movements are subtle, his steps light as he approaches. The guard, who had been standing stiffly at attention, straightens even more as he notices Young-il. There’s a flicker of recognition in the guard’s stance, an unspoken acknowledgment of who he’s really dealing with.

Young-il leans in, his voice a low, commanding whisper. “Listen carefully,” he begins, his tone firm but quiet enough to avoid drawing attention. “I’ve got an order for you, and you better make sure it gets through to every single one of you.”

The guard doesn’t respond verbally, but the slight tilt of his head signals he’s listening intently. Young-il’s eyes narrow, his voice dropping even lower. “No matter what happens in these games, no one and I mean no one is to harm Y/n. Not a scratch, not a bullet, nothing. She’s off-limits.”

The guard shifts slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the directive, but he remains silent. Young-il takes a step closer, his presence looming, his voice carrying a sharper edge. “She’s going to be my wife once this is all over,” he continues, his tone filled with an intensity that brooks no argument. “And if any of you so much as think about touching her, you’ll answer to me. Personally.”

The guard finally nods, a quick, nervous motion that shows he understands the weight of what’s being said. But Young-il isn’t done. He straightens, his gaze piercing as he delivers his final warning. “If she’s hurt because of your incompetence or worse, your defiance you’ll wish for death before I’m through with you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard whispers, his voice trembling slightly.

Young-il holds his gaze for a moment longer, ensuring his message is crystal clear. Then, with a slight nod, he steps back, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he murmurs. “Make sure the others know.”

Without another word, he turns and walks away, his posture relaxed but his mind racing. As he moves back toward the group, he catches sight of you again, your laughter soft but bright in the dim room. For a moment, his chest tightens, the weight of what he’s doing and what he’s risking hitting him all at once. But he pushes it aside, steeling himself. He doesn’t regret his decision. You’re worth every risk, every sacrifice.

Sliding back into his seat near you, he meets your curious gaze with a small smile. “What did I miss?” he asks casually, his tone light.

“Not much,” you reply, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Where did you sneak off to?”

“Just stretching my legs,” he says smoothly, leaning back as if nothing happened. “You know how cramped it gets in here.”

You give him a skeptical look but let it go, turning back to the conversation. As the others continue talking, Young-il glances down at the ring on your finger, hidden from view but glinting faintly in the low light. His resolve hardens. No matter what it takes, he’ll make sure you’re safe. Because in this brutal world, you’re the only thing that truly matters to him.

The room is dimly lit, the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead the only sound cutting through the heavy silence. Most of the players are sprawled out on their makeshift beds, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to them. The tension that normally lingers in the air is subdued for the moment, giving way to a rare and fragile stillness.

One player, however, can’t seem to settle. She tosses and turns on her thin mattress, frustration etched into her face as she glares at the locked steel door. After what feels like an eternity, she finally sits up, her movements abrupt and sharp. Muttering under her breath, she makes her way toward the door, the light clinking of her footsteps barely audible over the soft breathing of the sleeping players.

Reaching the door, she knocks firmly against the small window, startling the pink-suited guard stationed outside. He stiffens slightly before stepping closer, his expression hidden behind the eerie, faceless mask. He slides open the small metal window, his deep, distorted voice cutting through the stillness. “What do you need?”

The player folds her arms, her irritation clear. “I need to use the bathroom,” she says, her tone sharp and impatient. “I can’t sleep like this.”

The guard doesn’t respond right away, instead glancing into the room briefly, his posture stiff. “Go back to bed,” he says firmly. “You can wait until morning.”

The player’s eyes narrow, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you serious?” she snaps. “You’ve let people leave before! What makes this any different?”

The guard stands motionless, his silence only fueling her anger. She steps closer, her voice rising despite the risk of waking the others. “Then why did you let Y/n and Young-il go to the bathroom earlier?” she demands, her words laced with bitterness. “That’s not fair! You’re playing favorites, and we all know it!”

Inside the room, a few of the players stir at the commotion, mumbling sleepily as they shift in their beds. The guard tenses but doesn’t react to her accusations, his hand moving to the edge of the window.

“You can’t just ignore me!” the player hisses, her voice low but insistent. “I saw them leave. I know what I saw. You let them go, but you’re telling me to just hold it? What kind of crap is that?”

The guard leans forward slightly, his voice colder now, almost menacing. “Return to your bed,” he says slowly, enunciating each word with deliberate precision. “Do not cause trouble.”

The player glares at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters under her breath, but she doesn’t press further. The guard, clearly done with the conversation, slides the window shut with a decisive clang, cutting her off entirely.

Fuming, the player turns away from the door, her movements jerky as she stalks back toward her bed. She throws herself down onto the mattress, her frustration simmering as she glares at the ceiling.

Meanwhile, outside the door, the pink guard remains still, his posture tense. His mind races as he replays the front man’s words, her accusations hitting uncomfortably close to the truth. He glances down the hallway, his thoughts lingering on Young-il’s earlier command.

“She’s going to be my wife once this is over. No one touches her.”

The guard swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. He knows better than to question orders, especially when they come directly from the Frontman himself. Even so, the growing tension among the players doesn’t go unnoticed. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the carefully maintained façade of control begins to crack.

Back inside the room, the player lies awake, her mind racing as her frustration simmers. She glances over at you and Young-il, who are sound asleep on opposite sides of the room. A bitter sneer curls at her lips. “Favorites,” she mutters under her breath, her words a venomous whisper.

But for now, the room settles once more, the uneasy silence creeping back in as the tension lies dormant, waiting for the right moment to explode.

The next morning, the group gathers for breakfast, the mood subdued but focused as everyone eats in silence. The room is filled with the sound of utensils scraping against metal trays, the occasional murmur of conversation breaking the quiet. You and Young-il sit on one of the lower bunk beds, sharing your breakfast and quietly talking, stealing rare moments of calm amidst the chaos of the games.

As you’re mid-laugh at something Young-il says, the same player from the night before approaches you both, her expression sharp and accusatory. She plants herself directly in front of you, arms crossed, her gaze narrowing as she glares at the two of you.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” she sneers, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Must be nice being the favorites, huh?”

You and Young-il exchange a quick glance, confusion flickering across your faces. Before either of you can respond, the player presses on, her voice rising slightly. “You know what’s not fair? The fact that last night I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I got told no. Meanwhile, you two got to stroll out whenever you wanted! What were you even doing? Let me guess? fucking in the bathroom? Wasting the chance while the rest of us suffer?”

The accusation catches you off guard, your cheeks flushing slightly at her boldness. “What are you talking about?” you ask, your tone defensive.

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she snaps, pointing a finger at you. “I saw it with my own eyes. You and him sneaking out together like it’s some kind of date night while the rest of us are stuck here. It’s not fair! Some of us actually follow the rules, and you two just—”

Before she can finish, Hyun-ju, who’s been listening from a nearby bed, cuts in with a sharp laugh. “Oh, come on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “You expect us to believe that? Everyone was asleep last night. You probably imagined the whole thing.”

The player spins to face Hyun-ju, her frustration boiling over. “I know what I saw!” she insists. “They left the room! I heard the door open and close, and they weren’t here for a while. What were they doing, huh?”

Hyun-ju raises an eyebrow, unfazed by the player’s outburst. “Seriously, just let it go,” she says with a shrug. “Even if they did leave, who cares? It’s not like it’s your business. And besides, if the guards let them go, then maybe you’re the one who should think about why you didn’t get permission.”

The player’s face flushes with anger, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “This is bullshit,” she mutters. “They’re playing favorites, and you all just let it happen. No wonder they’re so cozy over there. they’ve got the guards wrapped around their little fingers.”

You feel Young-il tense beside you, his jaw tightening as he places the tiny tray down. He meets the player’s glare with a cold, measured look. “We didn’t do anything wrong,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “If you have a problem with the guards, take it up with them. Don’t come over here accusing us of things you can’t prove.”

The player scoffs, her eyes flickering between you and Young-il before turning away in frustration. “Whatever,” she mutters. “Favorites. That’s all you are.”

As she storms off, Hyun-ju chuckles softly, shaking her head. “She’s losing it,” she mutters, leaning back against the wall. “Honestly, the paranoia in here is getting ridiculous.”

You sigh, leaning into Young-il slightly as the tension settles. He places a reassuring hand on your knee, his expression softening as he looks at you. “Ignore her,” he murmurs. “She’s just trying to stir up trouble.”

You nod, though the accusation still lingers in your mind. The games have been wearing on everyone, and it’s becoming harder and harder to tell who’s really trustworthy. But as you glance at Young-il, his calm presence grounding you, you remind yourself that you’re not in this alone. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

The room begins to settle down after the tense meeting about the rebellion. The players quietly move to their respective beds, though the air is thick with anxiety and unspoken fears. Everyone knows the plan is risky, but there’s no turning back now. As people murmur their last goodnights and lie down to rest, Jung-bae approaches Young-il, his expression serious and heavy with concern.

He hesitates for a moment, glancing briefly at you sitting a few feet away, and then speaks in a low voice, keeping their conversation as private as possible. “Young-il,” he starts, his tone measured, but there’s a clear urgency behind his words. “Listen to me. When things go down later today, I don’t want Y/n out there with us. She needs to stay here ,where she’ll be safe. I don’t want her to get hurt or worse, shot.”

Young-il leans back slightly, his arms crossed. His expression is calm but unreadable, his dark eyes narrowing as he considers Jung-bae’s words. “I understand your concern,” he says slowly, his voice steady but firm. “But she’s coming with me. Wherever I go, she goes. That’s the way it is.”

Jung-bae frowns, his frustration evident. “Young-il, this isn’t a game. today not just another day. It’s going to be chaos out there. You can’t guarantee her safety. Do you even realize what you’re asking of her?”

Young-il leans forward, his voice dropping even lower, but his tone grows sharper. “I know exactly what I’m asking,” he says firmly. “But don’t you think I’ve thought about this? I’ve thought about her safety, her life, everything. And the truth is, I want her by my side. Not just because I can protect her, but because I need her with me. If something were to happen to me today or the next day… I want my time with her. I want her time with me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Jung-bae stares at him for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He glances over at you again, his protective instincts warring with the reality of the situation. “You’re asking for a lot,” he says finally, his voice tinged with frustration. “She’s not just another player to me. She’s… like a daughter. I don’t want her in harm’s way.”

“And you think I do?” Young-il retorts, his voice growing colder, though he keeps it low enough to avoid drawing attention. “You think I’d risk her life if I didn’t believe I could keep her safe? I’d rather die than let anything happen to her. That’s why she’s staying with me. No matter what happens today or after that I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

Jung-bae sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it, Young-il. You don’t know what it feels like to—”

“To care about someone so much that it hurts?” Young-il interrupts, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “Trust me, I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not leaving her behind. Because if this is the end… I want her to know how much she means to me. I want to spend every possible moment with her, no matter what the risks are.”

Jung-bae looks away, his jaw tightening as he struggles to respond. He knows there’s no changing Young-il’s mind, but the thought of you being part of the rebellion still fills him with dread.

Finally, he exhales slowly, nodding once. “Fine,” he mutters. “But if anything happens to her… it’s on you. You’ll have to live with it.”

“I already live with more than you can imagine,” Young-il replies, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken, something dark. “But this is one thing I won’t fail at. She’ll be safe. I promise you that.”

Jung-bae gives him one last, searching look before turning and walking away, leaving Young-il alone with his thoughts. He watches you from a distance, his gaze softening as you sit quietly, oblivious to the weight of the conversation that just took place.

As he approaches you, his expression shifts, the hard edges of his demeanor softening into something more tender. Whatever today brings, one thing is certain: he’ll do everything in his power to protect you, no matter the cost.

The air is thick with the deafening sound of gunfire and chaos. You cling tightly to Young-il’s hand, your heartbeat racing as adrenaline surges through your veins. You’ve never experienced anything like this, and the sheer terror of the moment makes your grip on him almost desperate.

Suddenly, Young-il raises his gun, and before you can even process what’s happening, he fires two precise shots. Player 047 lets out a sharp groan, followed quickly by Player 015 collapsing to the ground, a pained cry escaping his lips. The scene feels surreal, and you’re frozen in place, staring at the lifeless bodies in front of you.

“Young-il!” you gasp, your voice trembling with shock and disbelief. “Why did you—”

Before you can finish, the static crackle of a walkie-talkie cuts through the chaos. Gi-hun’s voice comes through, urgent and full of concern.

“Young-il, what’s going on? Have you guys made a move yet?”

Young-il, calm and composed despite the chaos around him, picks up the walkie-talkie and responds, his tone heavy with feigned despair. “I’m sorry, Gi-hun. It’s over. They got us… and they took Y/n with them.”

You look at him in disbelief, your mind reeling from the lie he just told. What is he doing?

Gi-hun’s voice crackles back through the device, more frantic this time. “Young-il, what’s going on? Are you still there?”

Young-il remains silent for a moment, his hand tightening around the walkie-talkie. The groans of the dying players nearby provide an eerie, convincing backdrop.

“Young-il! Say something!” Gi-hun shouts through the walkie-talkie. “Come on, Young-il! Young-il!”

Without a word, Young-il raises his gun again, silencing the groans of the injured players with two more shots. The sound of the gunfire reverberates in the air, sending a chill down your spine.

He then turns off the walkie-talkie, his expression unreadable as he speaks into the communication device meant for the guards. “Let’s wrap things up,” he says coldly, his tone commanding and final.

He turns to you, his dark eyes locking with yours. There’s something in his gaze a mix of determination and something you can’t quite place. You take a step back, your mind racing with questions.

“Why did you shoot them?” you ask, your voice shaky and barely above a whisper. “Why did you lie to Gi-hun?”

Young-il steps closer to you, his movements slow and deliberate. He holds out his hand, his expression softening slightly, though there’s still an intensity in his eyes. “Just come with me,” he says quietly. “I’ll explain everything. But not here, not now.”

You hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. Every instinct tells you to run, to demand answers, but something in his voice something raw and almost pleading stops you. You look at his outstretched hand, the same hand that just pulled the trigger moments ago, and then back at his face.

His gaze doesn’t waver, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath his composed exterior. Slowly, reluctantly, you reach out and take his hand. His fingers close around yours, firm but not forceful, as he pulls you closer.

“We don’t have much time,” he says softly, his voice low and urgent. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. Just trust me.”

As he leads you away from the carnage, your mind races with questions, doubts, and fears. You don’t know what’s happening or why he’s done what he’s done, but for now, you follow him, hoping that his promise to explain everything will bring you some clarity in the chaos.

Hyun-ju had been pacing anxiously, clutching the walkie-talkie as she tried to reach Dae-ho. The cool night air was heavy with tension, her voice breaking through the silence as she called, “Dae-ho? Dae-ho, answer me!” The static crackled in response, but no words came. She tightened her grip, her heart pounding with unease. Something wasn’t right.

Deciding she couldn’t wait any longer, she hurried back toward the dorms. Her steps quickened, echoing in the empty hallways. “Dae-ho! Dae-ho!” she yelled, her voice carrying desperation. She pushed open the door to the dorm, her eyes darting around frantically. “Dae-ho, where are you? Has anyone seen—”

Her voice faltered as she spotted him, hunched over in a shadowy corner. She rushed toward him, her pulse racing. “Dae-ho!” she called again, her tone sharp with concern.

He gasped at her approach, his wide, teary eyes meeting hers. His shoulders were trembling, and he looked like a man on the verge of breaking.

“Dae-ho,” she asked, her voice softening as she knelt beside him, “what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. His head hung low, and his hands were shaking. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Where are they?” she demanded, her voice shaking now.

Hyun-ju’s eyes flickered with confusion and alarm. She glanced around and froze when her gaze landed on a bag nearby. Its contents spilled slightly open, revealing a stockpile of ammunition.

Dae-ho’s face crumpled as he shook his head, his voice cracking with each word. “Forgive me. I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I’m sorry.”

Before she could finish, the shrill sound of an alarm cut through the air. It was deafening, echoing throughout the dorm and sending a chill down her spine. Gasps and screams erupted from the other players, who scrambled to make sense of the chaos.

The dorm lights flickered, and the metallic voice of a masked manager came through the speakers. “Everyone, face down on the ground immediately!”

The command was cold, final. Players froze in terror, dropping to the floor in submission. Hyun-ju instinctively tried to get up, her adrenaline surging. But a firm hand grabbed her arm.

She turned to see Geum-ja, her expression steely and calm despite the panic around them. “Don’t,” Geum-ja said quietly, shaking her head. Her grip was firm but not harsh. “This isn’t a good way to die.”

Hyun-ju hesitated, her heart thundering in her chest. She glanced at Dae-ho, who was now curled up, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again, his words like a broken record. The weight of the situation pressed down on her like a crushing force, and all she could do was lower herself to the ground, her mind racing with fear and questions.

The masked guards stormed in moments later, their footsteps heavy and deliberate. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Hyun-ju’s eyes stayed fixed on Dae-ho, silently pleading for answers as chaos unfolded around them.

Over the speakers, the woman on the PA stated.“Attention, Players. The day has ended. It's time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you do not comply with these orders, then you will be eliminated.”

“No, don't it!”

Once more, the woman repeats herself. “I will now repeat the instructions. Attention, players. The day has ended. It’s time to turn in for the night. Please make your way back to your quarters immediately. If you don’t comply..”

“Let’s put down our guns. If we surrender, they might not kill us.” Jung-bae tells Gi-hun since the both of them are out of ammunition. “Ah, shit.”

The player numbered 145 and the other player are trying to shoot down the pink guards who keeps coming, and the players notice that they no longer have ammunition, so they know that they’ll have to surrender. “The player numbered 145 talks over the walkie-talkie.”Advance team, do you copy? We're out of ammo over here. I'm gonna surrender.”

The guards quickly came and made their way, and they started shooting at the players, and the player 145 pulled his arms up.”Wait, please don’t shoot. I have a sick daughter at who—.”before he could finish he was shot.

Jung-bae gets down on his knees. “We surrender.” He tells the two guards, and he places down the gun, and as both Jung-bae and Gi-hun are kneeling down, footsteps can be heard, and they look up, and they see the frontman and lots of guards walking towards them. “Player 456 Did you have fun playing the hero?” The front man asks, breathing deeply. ”Now witness the consequence of your little game.” He shoots Jung-bae on the chest, and Jung-bae looks at his best friend. Hoping that Gi-hun will keep his promise of protecting you, “Gi-hun.” He said before hitting the floor

Gi-hun screams as he cries, trying to rush over to his best friend, ”Jung-bae!” But he gets pinned down to the floor by the guards who’s holding a gun at Gi-hun’s head as he cries again for his best friend.

The woman on the PA Informed that a another player has been eliminated. “Player 390, eliminated”

Young-il or should I say his real name Hwang In-ho made his way to his private quarters where you are waiting for him. Hopefully, you will forgive him and forget what he did because, in the end, all he did was to keep you safe and alive

[multific]

All Real

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: Driven by madness and manipulated by Macrinus, with a blade in his hand, Caracalla heads to Geta but he finds you instead.

"My Love? What are you doing?" you asked with a worried tone as you noticed the blade in his hand.

"I'm going to kill him. Where is he?"

"Why would you?" but just as you asked you noticed a shadow behind him. "Macrinus... I always knew it."

"She must be sleeping with your brother." you heard him whisper to Caracalla.

His eyes looked foggy and filled with tears. It worried you.

"Is it true?!" Caracalla yelled. 

"If you believe his words, you might as well kill me. I have been nothing but loyal to you, My Love. I have always been there for you and I will continue even if you kill me right now but please I have to ask you to come back to me and realise what is happening here. You are being manipulated." you begged but neither of you moved.

"You lie! You love him!" his hands frailed as he cried and yelled.

"You own my heart and soul. I belong to you, Caracalla. Please, My Love, put the knife down." 

Caracalla's eyes filled with fresh tears but so did yours.

"Please." you begged with a whisper. 

Your sweet voice seemed to break the curse he was under as he turned and stabbed Macrinus in the neck. It all happened so fast.

You watched as he looked at his shaking hands. 

"Wife, I'm so sorry. He... His words- He manipulated me. Oh, look what I have done." his hand reached out to you. Silently begging you to forgive him.

You took a step towards him and allowed him to hug you.

"I told you to always remember when you feel like you are losing it." you reached up and cupped his cheek, your thumb cleaning his tears. "I know Geta threw a drink at you and yelled at you, My Love. But killing him will not fix it all. I'm here to help you."

"I'm sorry." he said it again.

This is when Geta bursts into the room.

"What happened here?" he asked as he looked at the two of you with worry filled eyes. 

"Macrinus attacked me. Caracalla saved me." you explained.

"I will take care of this, go and rest." Geta said.

The two of you retired to your chambers.

"Why didn't you tell him?" your husband asked.

"He doesn't need to know."

"Do you hide things from me too? Things I don't need to know?"

"Of course not. You are my beloved Husband. I do not have anything to hide from you." you took a deep breath before looking at Caracalla. "I won't tell Geta what your true intentions were today because it will not achieve anything but hate. Tomorrow I will speak to the people in hopes of calming them. It will ease your mind as well as Geta's."

"What will you say?"

"I will tell them Lucilla sent Macrinus to kill me. The people will be on our side again."

"I didn't know my wife lied so much."

"To protect you? I would kill. I would lie to the Gods themselves because I love you."

"I'm sorry for doubting you."

"It wasn't you. It was Macrinus playing with your mind. I'm glad he's dead."

"You never liked him."

"But I love you." you said and just as the people outside quieted down, Caracalla embraced you in a feverish kiss.

The two of you spent a night of passion allowing your bodies to become one.

While it was true, you might lie, but you never lied to him. You never faked your love for him.

It was all real.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[vileidol]

prev it is 100% the same phenomenon. women are looked down on as shallow/emotional/less valuable/less intelligent. they refuse to believe that women are capable of interacting with media on a deeper level.

ergo, when women like something, it must be for shallow and stupid reasons. ergo, when women like the work that you created, it's a sign that your work is at risk of being viewed as shallow and stupid (note how bo burnham talks about being mocked for a teenage female audience) so you strike out. because how dare these shallow and stupid people like your totally not shallow and stupid thing?

you have to punish them. never mind that they're probably the people actually seeing the depth and meaning in your work. never mind that media has a huge problem with men being incapable of engaging with deeper themes and idolising characters the work is seeking to critique. because what's worse than that is these shallow and stupid women you've imagined tainting your show and making it girly, and for girls, who have cooties, and that threatens your masculinity.

the cultural undercurrent is that of a hegemony maintained by cis white men, but I don't think that's what's on show creator's minds. it's a lot more simple - if women are stupid and shallow, and they like my work, my work will be viewed as stupid and shallow. if women are stupid and shallow, and my fanbase is mostly women, then I have failed at projecting the masculine logical intelligent image | wanted to, and my masculinity is at risk.

so, like any man who refuses to go to therapy, I must strike out and punish.

[stxrslutrestored]

party girl ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

starring; rafe cameron . sweetie!reader

synopsis; when you somehow end up in the hands of rafe cameron at a party, you find yourself trying all sorts of things that you’d never imagine yourself doing

content; use of cocaine, intox, slight coercion, dry humping, exhibitionism, taking of virginity (depending on how u view virginity), topper and kelce’s existence 

note; trying a new layout to match my new theme

“uhm… I think I’m just gonna go find my friends.” you try to excuse yourself from the conversation you’d find yourself caught up in with rafe cameron, you’d heard from many that he would be very bad news for you. 

he chuckles, “oh, nah,” he shakes his head, smirking down at you, “you don’t even know where your friends are. a girl like you shouldnt be walkin’ around all alone at a party like this, why don’t you come sit with me and my crowd huh?” 

you hesitate for a moment, the more rational side of your head thinking you definitely shouldn’t follow and alleged drug addicted psycho and possible murderer to his second location. the less rational side is thinking that you don’t want to be wondering around for ages looking for your friends, as it would be easier to just go with rafe and hope for the best. 

you eventually nod shyly, “okay, i guess..” you look down as rafe smiles and starts to lead you through the party, you follow him all the way downstairs to a corner where there are multiple chairs and couches placed around a coffee table that is scattered with cups, plastic baggies, pills and powder. 

rafe leads you to one of the couches, sitting down in what was presumably his spot before he went on the detour on which he acquired you. there isn’t any more space on the couch so you make to perch on the arm next to rafe, he smiles up at you. 

one of his friends – you recognise him as kelce – speaks up, “what’chu doin’ here sweetheart?” his voice is loud and yet barely audible over the buzz of the party around you. “didn’t think you were the type for this scene.” 

you shake your head timidly, doing your best to speak up and answer him, “rafe brought me,” you tell him, “i lost my friends.” kelce smirks, so does rafe’s other friend topper and you watch all three of the boys exchange looks you can’t tell the intention of.

you feel quite out of place as the men around you are all completely comfortable. they are loud and rowdy, all of them drinking or doing lines or both. you are drinking a pink fruity cocktail that you didn’t actually want for the alcohol and only asked for because it was cute and you could. 

you feel scared to chime into the conversations, so you end up not speaking until you’re finally spoken to. rafe turns up to you, that same wicked smirk plastered across his lips, “you ever done a line sweetheart?” he asks, voice carrying a suggestive tone. 

you immediately shake your head, “of course not. that stuff is so bad for you… i couldn’t ever destroy my body like that.” you say confidently, but then immediately realise your mistake of criticising the use of drugs, in a room full of people who do drugs, everyone is looking at you now. you smile uncomfortably, “but i don’t mind that you guys do it.. that’s.. just fine.” 

rafe chuckles, patting your shoulder, “no you’re right. shits terrible for the body,” he affirms your point, “feels too good to stop though.” he finishes, before leaning down to snort another line off the table. 

topper looks up to you, “maybe you should try some,” he suggests, “would make you understand us, not be so quick to judge.” he smiles smugly up at you. 

“i’m not sure,” you rush out, “i don’t know if my tolerance will be good enough for coke.” you try to make an excuse. rafe sits up, looking right up to you, his hand comes up to wrap around your shoulder, making it hard for you to not slip off the arm of the couch and land in his lap. 

rafe speaks, “nah it’s not that bad.” he assures, “toppers right. why don’t you try it, to expand your horizons.” 

you shake your head, “I couldn’t possibly—“ but rafe cuts you off, clearly set on his motive now. 

“just a little bit,” he smiles, holding a line on his thumb, right there for you to accept. you feel like you can’t say no. 

“I don’t know how to do it,” you inform him and he chuckles, patting his leg. with everyone watching there’s really not much you can do, so you scoot over to sit on his lap, looking around the room self consciously. 

rafe chuckles, lining his hands up under your nose, “when I say, you just sniff, okay?” he says and you nod timidly. a few seconds pass and then rafe speaks, “go.” you immediately sniff, scrunching your face up as you feel the powder go up your nose. you feel the urge to sneeze but you just about manage to hold it back.

rafe smiles, rubbing your back as the others around the table cheer just a little. it’s already starting to hit you, the high, its weird, like everything is a bit distorted, sounds muffled, faces blurred, you feel good. 

soon you’re the highest in the room, despite probably being the one on the least substance. you’re now completely comfortable in rafe’s lap, leaning against his chest and almost constantly giggling at something in passing. 

something else is happening too, you’re starting to shed, that means you are beginning to want to get more comfortable, first taking your hair down and then removing your coat, now you want to take off the tights under your dress. with no social awareness due to the fact that well, youre up in the clouds, you stand from rafe’s lap and begin to pull them down as if undressing yourself. 

“woah there,” topper laughs, “bit forward don’t you think.” he jokes, looking to kelce as they both laugh at your behaviour. rafe smiles up at you, a different look in his eyes. 

“getting hot there?” he asks and you nod, assuming he’s referring to temperature. “need somethin’ to calm you down a little bit? i think you do.” 

you frown, “like what?” 

rafe smiles and leans back on the couch, spreading his legs and patting his leg, “come here and get yourself off.” he says, it’s blunt and forward and surprising. but in your drug addled mind, it just doesn’t take you aback.

almost without hesitation you start to approach, the only thing that makes you stop and think is topper and kelce in the back, laughing and saying something about ‘oh shit she’s really about to do it,’ and ‘didn’t think his plan would really work.’ 

you only look back for a second though, you decide fuck it! you climb into rafe’s lap, straddling him. you lean into his chest and without second thought you start to grind against his crotch. the material of his pants is rough against your pussy that is only covered by your thin little panties.

but you allow yourself to forget that, and soon you’re losing yourself in the feeling of deep, pleasurable stimulation. your head is thrown back and you’re moaning out loud, uncaring of the looks you get from all over the room. 

its minutes of total bliss for you until you finally reach an orgasm, you nearly scream in pleasure. you’re so high and happy that you don’t even register the fact that this is the first ever orgasm you’ve experienced. 

when you’re done with your moment of bliss you flop into rafe’s chest, completely spent and ready to crash from your high. the last thing you hear before basically passing out is something from toppers mouth, “guess she really is a party girl.” 

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.