#but like. what do you do. are you on your phone? do you people watch?

[afterglowkatie]

17 years old | a.p.

alexia putellas x teen!reader | 1.3k | you make your senior debut for barcelona

ˏˋ°•*⁀ this is part of the pollito universe. i hope you enjoy it :)

Standing on the sideline, waiting for your number to be put up on the board, you felt like your heart was about to beat out of your chest. You’d been ready for this day to come since you’d been invited to train with the first team. Though it still feels like time has gone by so quickly. It felt like just yesterday you were in the stands watching your mami on this very same pitch.

But that was four years ago now. Now you were older, your siblings were older, you weren’t that 13 year old watching her mami play. You were 17 now, about to step onto the same pitch that you had only dreamt about playing on. A world of responsibility was about to unfold the minute you stepped out, you weren’t just playing in the youth teams anymore, but about to play with the same players you’d grown to idolise.

It was a surreal feeling but one you were sure you were ready for. You’d watched your mami for years and everyone knows Alexia would’ve done everything she could to make sure you were as prepared, mentally and physically, as you could be for this moment. 

You knew you’d be making your debut in this match, despite having been on the matchday squad list for a fair few matches before this one. You also knew that your mami had been told as well, considering that you’d overheard her trying to get as many people as she could to come support you today. Your Tia Alba on the phone asking your mami what was so special about this match and then your mami’s hushed whispers were a dead giveaway to anyone who was overhearing.

The club saved Alexia’s number just for you, everyone knew you would definitely make your way through the teams to the first. There was never any doubt. Your passion for the game and your work ethic was identical to Alexia’s. There was a moment where you had second thoughts about taking the number eleven. But it was your mami’s legacy and you couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else wearing that number at this club.

Standing on the sideline, the number eleven with your name this time on your back, it didn’t feel as daunting as you always imagined it would. You were nervous, yes, but you knew no matter what happened today your mami was proud of you. Your family, your teammates, your mami’s teammates, the club, they were all already proud. Yes you had some big shoes to fill, you knew the expectations of the fans were going to be high, but you are a Putellas and you know you can do it.

You almost missed your number being shown on the board, being brought back to reality when arms were wrapped around you tightly, ‘Show them what you got kid. You’ve got this,’ Whispered in your ear during the embrace. A little nod of your head and a smile plastered across your face you ran onto the pitch. 

‘Pollito! Pollito!’ You didn’t need to look back at the stands to be able to hear Mapi’s voice over everyone else's.

‘Pollito, one day they’ll be chanting like that for you here,’ Mapi leaned over, pointing at the crowd that was chanting your mami’s name, ‘And I’ll be the first one,’ 

Coming on in the 80th minute, you really didn’t expect to be able to add a whole lot of importance to the match. You were just happy to be stepping onto the pitch, getting your first senior appearance. Though whoever was in charge of your script had other plans for you. Not many 17 year olds making their first appearance would have the confidence to take a shot like you did. 

Intercepting the ball midway between the half and 18 yard box, one quick glance up to see the keeper off their line and you didn’t take a second to think about taking the shot. Everything was a massive blur, your first touch was a goal and you hardly had any time to even think about it before you were being pulled into hugs and head pats by your teammates.Finishing the match with two goals in twelve minutes, a debut that no one was going to forget. 

‘Ale, watch out our little pollito already starting her goal count. Coming to take your top spot away from you if she keeps going like this,’ Mapi slung her arm around your shoulder bringing you in for a side hug. You laughed a little, shaking your head playfully. Your mami rolled her eyes. They’d all made their way down after the match, not wasting a second to come see you. You who was still in shock and not believing everything was real and ready to wake up realising it was all a dream. Eventually it would sink in.

‘You suck at celebrating,’ You laughed at your little brother, ‘All the time you seen me and my celebrations, I’d thought you’d learn a thing from me,’ Your brother was just like you and your mami, going through his own La Masia journey now, and you’d often found yourself practicing and playing football in the backyard together. You were both quite competitive with each other and Alexia has had to break up her fair share of fights and arguments between you both. But your closeness never faltered.

‘Hermano, you gotta teach me how you backflip,’ You smirked looking mostly at Alexia when you spoke to your brother within the group. You knew that if you even thought about trying something like that it would send your mami into a slight panic, the look in her eye now and the slight falter of her smile. You liked winding her up. A backflip celebration was definitely in your future, already planning it for a match you know your mami would be at.

‘Sí, celebrate in style pollito,’ Your tía Alba encouraging it, anything to annoy her sister

‘Eh, you’ll figure it out,’ Your mami pulled you in for a hug, you could see just how proud she was of you, ‘Maybe a less dangerous one, por favor,’ You laughed but made no effort to promise your mami that.

‘Hmm, I guess can’t have you growing more grey hairs,’ You playfully squinted while looking at your mami’s hair, Alexia gently slapping your hand away before you could point any out. 

‘If any, you lot are the reason for them,’ Alexia pointed towards the entire group that surrounded you. You all laughed, and somewhere during all the banter and the teasing you realised just how lucky you were. Seeing them all here together, you wouldn’t have made it this far without them.

Your mami turned you around so you were looking at her now front on, her hands gently holding the side of your head, ‘I’m so proud of you pollito,’ Words that you often heard from your mami but this time it felt different hearing it. A good kind of different. Alexia gave you a kiss on your forehead before, reluctantly, letting you go. Your mami still wishes you were that four year old who still fell over every time you tried to kick a ball, you grew too fast for her liking but she’s excited to watch your journey. She knows you’ll go far, mother’s intuition as she likes to tell you when you call her biased. 

Your little sister tugged at your shirt and you picked her up, she was small for her age so she still sat nicely on your hip just like she always has. You eventually broke away from your family, still holding your little sister while you went back to your teammates and went to some of the fans that were trying to get your attention.

Your mami watched from afar. Her little pollito wasn’t so little anymore, ‘The world is yours pollito,’

[acesofspadess]

Track Walk

landoscar x content creator!reader

part 1

series summary: You were invited to the Miami GP for your Track Walk series on social media, what follows after you run into a certain Papaya boy, no one could prepare you for...

series warnings: cursing, angst, smut, making out, mentions of people you may not like, mmf, threesome/throuple, if there is more let me know... ;)

a/n: this a long 4 part series, but the chapters will be released daily!! also... there is no hate to anyone mention in this story, it is a work of fiction and any hate towards the characters/people will be deleted.

Miami 2024 

“Hello lovely F1 fans!” You said to the camera you were holding quite close to your face, “We’ve got a bit of a different setting today, because we are at the…” You took the camera away from your face to show the full setting, “Miami GP!”

You were a small F1 content creator who had become known for your at home ‘track-walks’. Every Thursday you would walk around your neighbourhood or get on the treadmill and walk the length of the race circuit for the weekend.

“This is my first ever GP, as you all know, and I just can’t explain to you all how excited I am. A big thank you to Liquid IV for sponsoring this trip, and this video. We are starting at the P1 box, because obviously. We’ve got a total of 5.4 kilometers to walk, so let's get to it.”

Throughout the walk you filmed information on the track, the city, the race, and even some snippets of fans who happened to know who you were.You were doing a light run when at one point in the video you saw a group of papaya and flipped the camera at them and slowed to a light jog, “I think those are our papaya boys, if I’m not mistaken.” You whispered into the mic. As you jogged past them you looked up and saw it was just Lando with some of his team. 

“Good luck this weekend.” You called out as you surpassed them. “Cheers!” Lando called out with a small smile. You smiled back and continued with your jog and video. “Meeting Lando Norris, can check that off the bucket list.” You laughed softly to the camera. When you made it back to the P1 box you started to end the video. “Well that was so much fun, thank you again to Liquid IV for bringing me out here. Cheers to a hopefully amazing weekend.”

An amazing weekend it was indeed. That Sunday you watched Lando Norris get his maiden win. It was safe to say you were crying in the VIP box as he crossed the line. That night you went back to the hotel with endless happiness, your life couldn’t get any better. Or so you thought.

You woke up that morning to your phone buzzing relentlessly. Every two seconds it felt like someone was liking, commenting, and following you. You sat up in shock logging into tiktok to see that your most recent track walk video had jumped from a few thousand views and likes, to millions of each, and your follower count was soaring as well.

You went through some of the comments laughing at them saying this was your first grand prix and it was the best one ever. Some said you wishing him luck was the reason he won and you replied to those comments teasingly.

It was a few hours later when you were getting ready to head back home that you saw the best notifications. 

Lando Norris liked your video

Lando Norris commented on your video

You were thoroughly freaking out. You opened tiktok for the hundredth time that day to see if your eyes were deceiving you, they were not.

Lando Norris: "Maybe this was my lucky charm. Thanks for the good vibes! 🧡"

You screamed in the comfort of your hotel room as you read it, replying back.

“I’ll need to come to a lot more races this season if this is the outcome. Congratulations! 🧡”

Hungary 2024

A few weeks had passed since Miami and everything that came with it. You still continued on your content journey with track walks and other videos with your new following. “Hello lovely F1 fans, old and new. We are here with another special edition track walk!” You cheered showing your surroundings. “I’ve been doing some overtime and made my way to the Hungaroring, so let’s go on a walk…” 

The walk itself went as normal, shared some info, showed the surroundings, and made it seem like a facetime time call. It was almost comical how when you were walking off the track you actually bumped into someone, that someone being Oscar Piastri. “I’m so sorry, I was not paying any attention.” You apologised immediately. He just chuckled, waving you off. “Don’t worry about it. Making a video?” He said looking at the camera. You nodded shyly. “Yeah another track walk.” He nodded at the information, slowly getting awkward. “Well, in true fashion. Good luck this weekend.” You bid and he thanked you with a chuckle.

Once again, it was a Mclaren win. This time, it was for Oscar. You were starting to go a little crazy. How was it that everytime you came to a race McLaren won? Again your video blew up, and like clock work, Oscar commented.

Oscar Piastri liked your video

Oscar Piastri commented on your video

You opened the video and tapped on the comments to see what he had put…

Oscar Piastri: Guess I owe you a huge thank you for the good luck wishes. Let's see if this works every time!”

You giggled lightly at the comment before writing a reply back…

“I’d go to every race if I could! Congratulations !!!”

Zandvoort 2024

Over the summer break you worked endlessly on your upcoming finals for your graduation in December. You were missing F1, and needed your fix. In a last ditch attempt at getting your best friend to come with you, you ended up back in Zandvoort.  “Hello F1 friends! We are here in Zandvoort, home of Max Verstappen. We’ve got lots of orange here so I’m just going to say everyone is in papaya.” 

There was no meeting on track this go around, but that night just as you were getting ready to call it, you got a DM from McLaren. You thought it was just a community thing and glanced at it, but when you saw your name, you sat up quickly. You opened it with shaky hands and read the message:

“Hey Y/N!! Hope you're enjoying your weekend in Zandvoort so far! You’ve got a name here in McLaren and we want to invite you to spend the rest of the weekend with the team in the garage! If you send us a photo of yourself, we can get you your passes by morning! Just give us a call when you get there and let us take care of everything else.” 

It was safe to say you might be receiving a noise complaint from your neighbours. Immediately you grabbed your camera and turned it on. “Hi friends, I’m shaking right now,” you laughed in shock. “McLaren just invited me to their garage this weekend. What the fuck?!” You showed the camera your phone where the message was still up. “Your girl is going to the McLaren garage, which means vlog time.”

You cut the video there and replied to McLaren with immense gratitude and a photo.

Walking up to the paddock entrance you had phoned McLaren and let them know you were walking up. You saw someone in Papaya and they waved at you enthusiastically. She passed you your passes over the barrier so that you could scan in. “This is crazy.” You said while she laughed. “I run all the social media accounts, and when I saw your videos I just had to pull some strings for you. You’re genuine, we like that at McLaren.” She told you honestly and you smiled bashfully. “Thank you, that means a lot.”

She then gave you a run through of everything happening in the garage, in the hub, and in the paddock revolving McLaren. The paddock wasn’t new to you, but this whole experience was strange to you. “And then you have a scooter to get around as well. Just don’t hit anyone because papaya is an easy colour to notice.” You laughed with her knowing how true it was. “I’ll do my best.”

You bounced between sides all morning, watching the teams set up the car for Lando and Oscar. You loved both drivers equally, you would never be able to choose one. You were on Lando’s side not paying much attention to your surroundings when two bodies stood in front of you. You looked up to get out of the way when you saw Oscar and Lando. “Following us now?” Lando asked with a smile. “I should ask you the same thing.” You shot back and Oscar chuckled. “They told us this morning you would be here for the rest of the weekend. It’s nice to see you.” Lando nodded in agreement and smiled happily. “It was a last minute decision to come,” you told them, “and then I got invited into the garage, it’s definitely going to be a good weekend.” The three of you laughed softly knowing the hidden meaning. “Well I’m certainly looking forward to a win this weekend.” Oscar shared. “She was my lucky charm first.” Lando pointed out. “Don’t fight!” You laughed, “I’ll be cheering the both of you on, see?” You took off your hat to show the underside of the brim. Each side had a number on it. “I stitched two of them together.” You informed. “That’s actually really cool.” Oscar said, taking the hat for a closer look.

“Your nails! Osc look at them.” Lando said taking your hands in his and showing off your nails, one hand was dedicated to Lando and his famous helmet design, and the other side was Oscars helmet design with a croissant on the ring finger. “Very funny.” He said when he saw it. “It was this or a cat.” You shrugged and Lando laughed as Oscar shook his head.

“Boys!” The two drivers looked behind them to see the clock counting down. “I will not be the reason you two don’t win this weekend so do go.” You pushed them lightly. “Thank you for coming, we’ll chat again later.” Lando said, going in for a hug. “Of course, go top both practices.” You cheered as Oscar also gave you a hug before the both of them went to their respective sides of the garage.

f1gossipofficial 

liked by user4 and others

f1gossipofficial Who’s that? Today before FP1 both McLaren drivers were seen talking and hugging with someone in their garage. In a different view, we can see that the person is content creator Y/N L/N who has gone viral for being the duo’s ‘good luck charm’. The three seem to be very cosy considering they’ve never officially met. 

view comments

user4 THAT SHOULD BE ME

user5 she posted a mini vlog on her tiktok this morning! She said McLaren dm’ed her and asked for her to be in the garage

User9 awwe that’s so sweet of McLaren to do for her 

user6 something about her doesn’t seem right

user7 don’t start, she’s one of the nicest people I’ve seen on tiktok

user8 another McLaren win is incoming

The following two days of the weekend were spent filming and nerding out over being in the garage. Lando and Oscar of course got super busy over the following two days, but they still managed to give you a wave when they could. Watching the race from the garage and hearing the live feed, watching the pit crew get ready for the pit stops, the actual pit stops, it was beyond magical for you. And without fail, one of the boys won, this time in Lando’s favor by 20 seconds.

You got to celebrate with the team, some of them recognising you and saying you needed to be here more often. Days like this were what you dreamed for. In between the chaos, you never managed to say goodbye to the papaya drivers, but they did DM you.

Lando Norris has followed you

Oscar Piastri has followed you

You’ve been added to a groupchat with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri

Your eyes almost flew out of your head when you saw the notifications. This wasn’t happening, you thought but you clicked on it anyway.

Lando Norris: We didn’t get the chance to say goodbye, but we just wanted to thank you for your support and coming to as many races as you can!

Oscar Piastri: Lando’s said it all, but hopefully you can come to another race soon, and we’ll try to win even if you can’t.

You laughed at the very opposite but almost the same message from each of them. Your hands were shaking as you replied back.

Y/N L/N: You were having too much fun celebrating the win! A big thank you to you guys as well for making it so easy to support a great team. Hopefully I can get to a race soon! If not I’ll be watching from home still cheering you guys on!

Oscar Piastri: you don’t have to be so formal 😂I feel like we can call you a friend if you keep helping us win

Lando Norris: what osc said, don’t be a stranger.

Y/N L/N: no need to bully me! You’re a-listers! How else was i supposed to respond

Lando Norris: OMG!!! I can’t believe you texted me!! You followed me too OMG OMG OMG. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH 🧡🧡🥰🥰🥳🥳 ASGKWBEWOEHJ

Oscar Piastri: like that ^^

Y/N L/N: that’s what I’m doing on the inside lol, but i think I would block myself if I did actually typed that

Lando Norris: yeah it was a bit weird to type 😂

Oscar Piastri: great, now I have two of you

You tilted your head at the comment but shook it off. You were pretty similar to Lando on the goofy side of things.

Y/N L/N: Don’t worry Oscar, when I’m not on an adrenaline high like I am right now, I’m more like you than you think

Lando Norris: great, now there’s two of you

Oscar Piastri: i’ll have to see this in person then

Y/N L/N: is that an invite I’m hearing?

Lando Norris: sounds like it to me.

Oscar Piastri: it was indeed.

Y/N L/N: i’ll see what my work and class schedule looks like and I’ll get back to you on that offer. Graduation is soon so i’m balancing a lot of things

Lando Norris: its my offer too!!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: what do you go to school for?

Y/N L/N: noted Lando, and sports journalism, dream job is to work in F1.

Lando Norris: That’s mint! I think you’ll do good

Oscar Piastri: you’ve got a very warming personality that I’m sure all the drivers will like. If you ever need to practise, we’re here.

Lando Norris: If you twist my words I’ll know you did it

Oscar Piastri: Lando!

Y/N L/N: Lando!! 😭 I promise I won’t, this season especially really helped push me into this because I hate the way the media portrays two/three of the nicest people ever.

Lando Norris: i know we’re the two…but who’s three

Oscar Piastri: guess 🦁

Lando Norris: NOOOOOOOOO

Lando Norris: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO MEEE

Oscar Piastri:  😂😂😂

Y/N L/N: IM SORRY!!! I CAN’T HELP IT!!

Y/N L/N: Oscar!! Why would you throw me under like that!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user is no longer available*

Lando Norris: invite has been taken back.

Y/N L/N: nooo!!! I’m sorry!!! OSCAR!!!!!

Oscar Piastri: *this user apologises for the chaos he has now unpacked*

Baku 2024

Within the three weeks that passed between Zandvoort and Baku, Oscar and Lando never stopped texting you. The three of you figured out you had a lot in common and clicked like magnets. Over that time, you had plenty of new followers and decided to do a Q&A on your tiktok.

“How am I able to go to so many GP’s? Are you a millionaire?” You laughed after reading the question. “I’m not a millionaire by any means. I saved up for about a little over a year, didn’t go out with friends unless it was a birthday, didn’t buy unnecessary stuff, just was really good with not spending so I could treat myself this year. I’m in my last months of uni, which I got a full scholarship for, so not having to worry about school costs is also a great help.”

“Have you spoken to Lando and Oscar since your time in the garage? They follow you now too.” You thought quickly about it, “I haven’t no,” oops. “They were just being polite and doing their jobs when they saw me in the garage. As for the following thing, I can’t tell you why they decided to do that, but I'm not complaining.” You chuckled.

“What are you studying in Uni?”

“I’m in my final months of my sports journalism major. That's why I’m a big fan of F1, but also F1 got me into journalism, it's a circle of interest.” You mimicked drawing a circle that never ends.

In those three weeks you had also moved your group chat out of Instagram.

Osco: Is it terrible to say I miss having you in the garage?

Landito: wow Osc, straight to the point

Osco: leave me alone

Y/N: if it's anything I miss being in the garage, but no it’s terrible

Landito: what he means to say is…. we miss seeing you in person

Osco: facetime isn’t enough

Osco: come to Baku?

Landito: we took back her invite remember?

Osco: you took back your invite…

Y/N: i’ll be there already

Landito: WAIT REALLY???

Osco: is this a prank?

Y/N: yes really

Y/N: and no not a prank

Osco: answer please

Your phone started ringing just as you read it. You were in no position to be facetiming two people you now had a crush on… yeah, that also happened over the three weeks. You tried to tell yourself they were just being nice and you were caught up, but the way they acted sometimes led you to believe otherwise.

“Why am I looking at the ceiling?” Lando pointed out. “Because I am in no way showing you what I look like right now.” You laughed at them. “Yes you are.” Oscar commented. “We facetimed you for a reason.”

“Face please.” Lando asked sweetly, and you rolled your eyes. There you were in your McLaren x Reiss jacket, curls thrown up into a mix of a bun and ponytail, and glasses over your eyes. “You wear glasses?!” Lando said peeking over Oscar’s shoulder. They were always together, you started to realise.

“Yes, Lando. I wear glasses.” You shook your head with a small smile. “Well, you look beautiful as always. What’s this about you coming to Baku and not telling us?” Oscar moved on swiftly. “It was supposed to be a surprise! I was-”

“Nope, if it’s a surprise we shall wait.” Oscar cut her off. “I don’t want to wait though.” Lando groaned from behind him. “It’s in 2 days, Lando.” Oscar said, looking at the head that was now on his shoulder. “2 days too long.” He mumbled. “I promise it’ll be worth it!”

And worth it it was. After your track walk, there you were, the media pen, questions about the upcoming weekend ready, with an F1 TV microphone in your hand. F1 had reached out to you after your Q&A video asking about your sports journalism career. One thing led to another and here you were.

“Hey Max, first things first, how are you feeling this weekend?” Max smiled. “I mean, I’m feeling fine, I definitely need to get in the car to see how we do on track. Not very well if you’re here though.” 

“You know who I am?” You asked in shock. “All other drivers hope you don’t make it to the races with the track record you have, but someone told me I was one of your favourites.” Of course they did. “Well they wouldn’t be lying.” You chuckled shyly. 

Max leaned on the gate as you got your questions ready. "This year has seen a shift in the competitive order with McLaren and Ferrari stepping up. You’ve still proven to be one of the best drivers this season and currently lead the Drivers' Championship, with Red Bull fighting to stay at the top in the Constructors’. With three titles already under your belt, how do you maintain focus when the dominance you’ve grown used to in both championships isn’t guaranteed anymore—especially heading into a high-risk, high-reward circuit like Baku, where unpredictability often plays a major role?"

Max seemed a little shocked with the question. “I mean…” You nodded along as he answered and when he finished and the camera was off he smiled. “Those were very good questions. I look forward to seeing you the rest of the weekend.” You smiled at him. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

You got similar style compliments from other drivers and when the papaya boys walked in and spotted you they both smiled but had to work their way down the pen. Oscar was the first to get to your station. A quick glance to his eyes showed the professionalism he was using to hide the sheer excitement at seeing you again. “Hey Oscar, you’re going into this weekend with a double podium from Monza, how are you preparing for this weekend to get the same results if not better?”

Oscar chuckled. “Well if you’re here then a McLaren win seems to be in the cards.” You shook your head at him as he smirked. “But…”

“Thank you Oscar, good luck this weekend.” Before he left he reached over the barrier to give you a quick hug. “Nice to see you again.” He said before walking off. Lando quickly took his position and gave you his eye-closing smile. “Hey you.” You chuckled, shaking your head. “Hey Lando, after the double podium in Monza, it’s clear that McLaren has made significant strides this season. With the Constructors' Championship in reach with just 11 points to Red Bull, how do you approach a circuit like Baku, where opportunities and risks are amplified? Do you feel this weekend could be pivotal in swinging the fight for the Constructors’ in McLaren’s favor against Ferrari as well?"

Lando tilted his head. “You’re one of the only people who’s brought Ferrari into the Constructors fight.” He pointed out and you shrugged lightly. “You’ve said before that Red Bull isn’t your competition, Ferrari is.”

Lando’s interview came and went just as quickly as Oscars and he too ended the interview with a hug. Charles and Carlos were just after and both of them mentioned knowing who you were and to take a stop at their garage.

The weekend went really well. Any free time you had was bouncing between garages and meeting new people. And like clock work, McLaren won the race, in Oscar’s favour. You were doing post race interviews and the wide smile on Oscar’s face when he saw you made your insides warm. “Please come to every race.” He joked and you laughed lightly. “Congratulations on your win today Oscar, after some very good fights with Charles…”

Because you had to go through every driver, and then got invited to talk about your experience on F1 TV-

“We are bringing on the voice you’ve heard all weekend, Y/N L/N.” Laura introduced as you walked into the middle of the group. “How are you?” She asked. “I’m doing really amazing. It’s been such a busy weekend for me, all thanks to you guys for inviting me and giving me some on the field action.”

Will Buxton spoke next. “You’ve become a big name here, everytime you come to a race, a McLaren driver wins. How is that even possible?”

You laughed alongside the rest of the panel. “I just put 50 kilos of extra weight in everyones car before the race this time. I think I’ll run the engine out next time though. Make everyone have grid-penalties.” You joked and they all laughed again. “It’s been so nice having you with us this weekend! We hope that you can join us again sometime soon!”

-you were able to stay much longer into the evening. Making your way to the McLaren garage you saw that they were prepping for a team photo and you quickly got your camera out to snap the moment for yourself. “No, you get in here too!” Zak yelled seeing you and the team cheered in agreement. You shook your hands not wanting to spoil it but then you were getting picked up from behind by a shoeless Lando and plopped right to Oscar.

Oscar placed an arm around you with a wide smile. “This is too much.” You told him. “Nope, it’s not.” He smiled again. You shook your head but smiled and cheered for the picture as well, and then the champagne. The team member next to you handed you their bottle with a wink at Oscar. Right as the photo ended you shook the bottle and made sure to douse Oscar as he tried to run away. Lando also joined you and the three of you were getting drenched in everyone else's champagne.

“There are two of you!” Oscar joked. “Yeah you might be right about that.” Lando laughed, clearing champagne from his eyes. “That was fun!” you laughed clinking Oscars champagne bottle. “You’ve got about 5 minutes before you start to smell.” He laughed and then your face fell. “I don’t have a change of clothes!” Lando laughed as you freaked out and Oscar just hugged you. “I’m sure we can find you something to wear.”

They did, you were wearing a team kit from their spare room in the hub. It was enough to get you to your hotel room. “Want to ride with us to the hotel?” Lando asked coming to walk with you as you reached the doors to walk out. “Yeah that sounds good.” He took your hand just as you were going to exit. “We have to wait for Oscar.” He said and you nodded and without letting go of your hand he dragged you back towards the main area.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” He asked as you two leaned against a wall. “It was an amazing weekend.” You smiled giddily, closing your eyes. “I hope this doesn’t change that.” You opened your eyes to see Lando coming closer to you, eyes looking down at your lips. You nodded lightly and he closed the gap between your lips. His teeth nipped yours, with a sense of impatience. “Just couldn’t wait could you.” You broke away with his head resting against yours. Oscar. Why did you feel so guilty? “Oscar I-” He just shook his head with a laugh coming to your otherside. “I won, does that mean I get a kiss?” 

You looked at Lando who still had that dazed smile, then back to Oscar. “You didn’t tell her, did you?” He said and Lando shook his head. “We’re dating, now can I kiss you please?” He said quickly before taking your lips in his. His kiss was softer but still as impatient. “We’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He sighed when he pulled away. 

“Really?” You asked softly, hand coming to press against your tingling lips. “Yes, since we started texting you. Oscar and I just couldn’t get you out of our heads.” Lando said with a small smile. 

“I thought I was being delusional.” You chuckled softly. “Not at all.” Oscar's hand went to your hip softly squeezing. “Come to Singapore with us, please.” You looked at Lando who took your hand and held it in his own. “Please.” You nodded almost in a trance.

[luvmanifesting]

PERMASHIFTING SOON

haiiiii :3 okay so guys im scripting out this new world i’m creating, like a whole different planet entirely. ill be taking everything i’ve manifested here and bring it over to my new world im creating let me give you all a bit of fun facts about my planet/world im creating and some other stuff!

everyone who lives on that planet is automatically considered immortal

“human” race does not exist we can still obviously have human bodies but instead of “race” people will be categorized by rank in civilization (i have to figure out what our species would be called)

7 continents will exist

war will absolutely never exist

languages will be completely different the only language i might bring over is japanese which is my native language

before meeting anyone in that planet you will get a 10 second little mini-movie” of how a person acts and the experiences you will make with them

every choice you make will affect your life (butterfly affect) and you’ll know because everyone on the planet is given a little cute watch that monitors their decisions and warns them of the consequences it’ll have

this planet is absolutely and forever healthy, animals will never go extinct (im not bringing back the dinosaurs or whatever lol. maybeee idk)

everyone in this planet experiences has very strict morals they follow (crime doesn’t exist here)

wealth doesn’t exist and currency doesn’t exist (no, nobody steals everyone here shops normally and peacefully)

social media does not exist here (because there will always be something amazing and fun to do in this world, and people love creating memories with people in this world on polaroids instead of phones)

romance is genuine romance here none of that corny/harsh stuff people here know how to love

mermaids exist (friendly ones only), unicorns exist, Atlantis exists, cute fairies exist (but they only exist on a special continent and everyone respects the continent)

history in this world is completely different and rewritten

schools are immune to stressing anyone out and are always fun and the students here love coming to school

this planet is located in a different universe and different timeline

every continent respects each other (no racism here)

both genders are treated equally

religion does not exist (don’t come for me)

yeah lol this is just a slightly small but big preview after i finish this lol im perm shifting, so i won’t have any memory of this account!! i’ll miss you guys though 🤍

[crushpunky]

actress!reader reveals what’s on her phone

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

based loosely on the glamour interview, screen time :)

“Hello, Glamour, I’m y/n y/ln and today we are going to be digging through my phone!” Y/n sang, greeting the camera with a grin!

What’s your screen time?

“Oh my god…” Y/n groaned, running a hand down her face. “4 hours and 35 minutes.”

“That’s not too bad!” The interviewer said with a sympathetic giggle.

“Well that’s good to hear.” Y/n chuckled, swiping through her phone.

What’s the story behind your lock screen?

“Awww, it’s very cute.” Y/n said, her cheeks flushing slightly as a grin spread across her face before she held her phone up to the camera:

“So it’s a picture of me, my wonderful boyfriend, Drew, and our dog Charleston.” Y/n couldn’t help but continue to smile at the photo and the memory of the evening. “This is at a beach in… somewhere in South Carolina, I’m not giving away our secret spot. But yeah, I think it was taken by one of Drew’s sisters and it’s just such a good memory of me and my favorite person… and Drew too.”

Y/n teased as she swiped into her phone for the next question.

How about a little tour of your camera roll?

“Ooh it’s about 90% photos of Charleston.” Y/n giggled as she scrolled through her camera roll:

“Well, we’ve got some photos from set, of course, but I can’t share those.” Y/n explained. “Lots of my friends and their dogs, Drew being a goof, some outfit photos… nothing too crazy.”

“The last picture of Drew?” The interviewer asked, referring to the meme of him she had saved on her phone:

“Oh my god I forgot I had that!” Y/n giggled, genuinely tickled by the meme her and Madelyn had stumbled across. “That’s Drew as Glinda from Wicked, of course. Doesn’t he just look so beautiful?”

Y/n quirked her brows, smiling into the camera as she held up the meme.

You’re very honest about your love of Tik Tok, would you mind sharing some of your favorites?

“We’re gonna have to dig deep into the archives… the personal collection.” Y/n teased, scrolling through her numerous saved Tik Toks.

“Well, I’m not shy to admit that I am a bit of a fangirl and do have quite a large folder of saved edits.” Y/n giggled, her cheeks flushing as her eyes landed on an especially entertaining edit of Drew. “Now I’m gonna preface that… yes, a lot of these are of Drew or myself or our characters. I can’t lie, I do have a bit of an addiction.”

As she watched it, she bit her lip and let out a flustered giggle. Behind the camera, the interviewers laughed at y/n’s reaction, causing her to scroll onto the next edit:

“Oh my god I forgot about this one!” Y/n squealed. “I was showing this one to Drew and Madelyn last night and we were in actual tears at the comments!”

“I just want to say, shout out to the editors and commentators on Tik Tok for being so unabashedly horny.” Y/n said, pointing to the camera with a cheesy grin.

What have you been listening to lately music wise?

“I mean… the people already know.” Y/n rolled her eyes playfully as she opened up her Spotify before turning it to the screen:

“I told y’all I was a Swiftie and I wasn’t lying.” Y/n raised her eyebrows as she dove further into her playlists and collections.

“Playlist wise, I have my go-to jams, showtunes, classic rock, rap and hip-hop… a little bit of everything.” Y/n smiled.

"I also like to make playlists for each of my characters," y/n explained. "It really helps me to get into the mind of the character and kind of... explore aspects of them that might not be surface level or obvious."

What’s the vibe on your Pinterest?

“Ooh yay! I love Pinterest.” Y/n squealed as she opened up Pinterest excitedly. “Pinterest is actually the most underrated app, I use it everyday for work, memes, funsies.”

“Fun fact, a lot of my nails and fashion genuinely come from Pinterest.” Y/n explained. “My stylist and I have a shared board and are constantly sharing new ideas.”

“Is your Pinterest public?” The interviewer asked, to which a mischievous grin spread across y/n’s lips.

“No it is not, I like to be at least a little bit mysterious and I feel like Pinterest is pretty personal.” Y/n nodded.

Who was the last person you texted or called?

Y/n giggled, not even needing to open the app to check as she pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Drew. He texted me right before I got here, which we always do right before either of us have an interview.” Y/n grinned, closing her phone.

“Well thank you so much for having me, Glamour, and I hope that you all enjoyed looking into the depths of my phone!” Y/n said, waving to the camera before turning to the interviewer.

“That wasn’t quite as scandalous as I thought it was going to be.” Y/n teased, winking to the camera one last time.

[celebtf]

TOM, THE LOOK-ALIKE AND THE SPIDER-SUIT

Jordan Johnson had built a small but loyal following online. His TikTok account had hundreds of thousands of followers, all captivated by one thing: his uncanny resemblance to Tom Holland.

From lip-syncing iconic Spider-Man lines to recreating Tom’s interviews, Jordan’s content thrived on the illusion. Fans bombarded his comment sections with excitement.

“OMG, you look EXACTLY like him!”

“Are you SURE you’re not his twin?”

“Better than the real thing!”

At first, the attention was exhilarating. Jordan leaned into the role, perfecting Tom’s mannerisms, studying his accent, and even buying clothes that matched Tom’s public appearances.

But as time went on, the praise began to sting.

“You’re just a look-alike,” one comment read. “Cool, but… you’re not him.”

Jordan’s content, once fun, became a bitter reminder of his second-place position in life. People loved him, but only because he reminded them of someone else. He wasn’t Jordan Johnson. He was “Fake Tom.”

The tipping point came when someone stopped him on the street.

“Oh my God, it’s you!” the stranger squealed, pulling out their phone. “I love your Spider-Man movies!”

Jordan opened his mouth to correct them but stopped. What was the point?

The fan took a selfie, thanked him, and walked away without a second glance.

Jordan stood there, seething.

“I’m done being second best,” he muttered under his breath.

That night, staring at the ceiling of his tiny apartment, Jordan came to a decision. He didn’t just want to look like Tom Holland. He wanted to be Tom Holland. And he would do whatever it took to make that happen.

For weeks, Jordan meticulously researched Tom Holland’s life. Social media posts, interviews, paparazzi photos—he gathered every scrap of information he could find. He learned Tom’s routines, his favorite coffee shop, even the layout of his home.

A plumbing issue Tom had mentioned in a recent interview gave Jordan the perfect in. He forged a work order, bought a janitor’s uniform, and prepared a special sedative designed to weaken Tom—just enough to make him vulnerable.

Jordan didn’t just want to meet Tom. He wanted to take everything from him—his fame, his fortune, his

Jordan’s hands trembled as he knocked on the door of Tom’s London home.

The door opened, and there he was. The real Tom Holland.

“Hello? Can I help you?” Tom asked, his voice warm and polite.

Jordan forced a smile. “I’m here to fix the pipes. Routine maintenance.”

Tom hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. Come in.”

Jordan followed him inside, clutching his toolbox tightly. Tom led him to the bathroom, chatting casually about the plumbing issue. Jordan nodded along, barely listening, his focus on the small vial hidden in his toolbox.

After a few minutes of fake tinkering, he made his move.

“Hey, before I go, do you mind if we take a photo? Big fan,” Jordan asked, feigning nervousness.

Tom chuckled. “Sure! Let me grab my phone.”

“No need,” Jordan said, pulling out his own. They posed for the photo, and Jordan snapped it, his smirk barely concealed.

“Thanks, mate,” he said, slipping the sedative into the faucet’s filter. He turned the water on, letting it run clear before leaving the room.

But he didn’t leave the house. Instead, he waited just outside the bathroom door, listening.

It didn’t take long. Jordan heard a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. He pushed the door open slightly and peered inside.

Tom was on his knees, clutching the sink, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His veins glowed faintly blue and red, spider-like patterns spreading across his skin.

“What’s… happening?” Tom choked, his voice trembling.

His muscles tensed and convulsed as the transformation took hold. The glow intensified, and the veins began to shift, forming the outlines of a Spider-Man suit. Tom’s skin seemed to liquefy, merging with the red and blue fabric that now covered his body.

Jordan watched, mesmerized, as Tom’s features softened. His face disappeared beneath the mask, his body shrinking slightly, losing its humanity.

Within moments, Tom was gone. Where he had been stood a perfect Spider-Man suit, limp and lifeless on the floor.

Jordan stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Incredible,” he whispered, crouching beside the suit. He ran his fingers over the fabric, feeling its strange, almost organic texture.

“This is it,” he murmured, standing up and beginning to undress.

Jordan slid one leg into the suit, gasping as a surge of energy shot through him. His muscles tensed, growing stronger and more defined.

He pulled the suit over his thighs and waist, shivering as his body began to change. His stomach hardened into chiseled abs, his chest broadened, and his arms thickened with new strength.

“Unreal,” he whispered, flexing his hands as they grew larger, the veins more prominent.

He zipped up the suit, feeling it mold perfectly to his body. Finally, he pulled the mask over his face.

A warmth spread through him, and he felt his face shift. His cheekbones sharpened, his jawline squared, and his voice deepened into Tom’s unmistakable accent.

Jordan pulled off the mask and stared into the mirror.

“Holy…” He touched his face, his heart racing. The reflection was perfect. He was no longer Jordan Johnson.

He was Tom Holland.

Jordan turned to the empty space on the floor where the suit had been.

“Look at you now,” he sneered. “The great Tom Holland, reduced to nothing but fabric. You’re part of me now.”

He flexed his new muscles, admiring his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll take your roles, your fans, your fame,” he said, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ll live your life better than you ever could. And no one will ever know.”

He adjusted the mask, slipping it back over his face.

“Thanks for the life, mate,” he said, his tone cruel. “I think I’ll enjoy it.”

With that, he walked out of the bathroom, now the star the world adored, leaving the real Tom behind—trapped forever as the suit Jordan now wore.

[viasdiary]

luigi’s always taking advantage of us in bed but when do we take advantage of him?? #usehim

love this prompt i definitely need to write more sub luigi fics

☆ please (luigi mangione x reader)

☆ warnings: rough sex, overstim, crying, begging, corruption, noncon if you squint?

☆ reader takes luigi's virginity and rides him until he's crying and begging

you’re sprawled out on the couch, half-watching tv, but your attention keeps drifting to luigi. he’s sitting beside you, one leg casually tucked under him, his broad shoulders filling out his black t-shirt. the shirt fits him just right—snug across his shoulders, stretching slightly over his chest and arms. it’s simple, but it’s working. the gray sweats he’s wearing hang low on his hips, letting the band of his boxers peek out.  his posture's stiff as he nervously fiddles with his phone. the two of you have hung out plenty of times before, but tonight feels different, there's some tension in the air, some feeling you can’t quite shake.

you’ve noticed it for a while now: how he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, how his smile lingers a little longer than it should. you know he's into you. and honestly? the fact that he's a little clueless about what to do with that attraction just makes it more fun.

"so," you begin, glancing over at him with a smirk, "you ever hooked up with anyone at one of your little frat parties?"

he pauses, clearly not expecting you to ask that, then chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

“uh, i mean… yeah, i’ve... hooked up with people, just not, like... that much, y'know?” he looks down at his phone, like maybe he can escape the conversation if he stares hard enough.

you let the silence hang for a moment, taking a calculated breath before leaning in slightly, watching the way his body tenses. "really? i find that hard to believe, especially for a guy as handsome as you," you say, your voice low.

he glances at you quickly, his eyes darting away when they meet yours. it’s cute—his usual cocky frat boy act falling apart under your attention.

“i mean, i’ve just been busy with school, that's all. not like i’m... avoiding it,” he mutters, but you can tell by the way he avoids your gaze that there’s more to it than just being "busy."

you smile knowingly, then shift just a little closer on the couch, your knee brushing his. it's subtle, but you notice the way he freezes at the contact. "y'know," you say casually, your voice low, "if you haven't had a real hookup, maybe i should, like, show you what you’re missing."

luigi's eyes widen, his gaze snapping to yours. for a moment, he seems frozen, processing your words. his brows press together a little. "and what exactly would that entail?"

you lean in closer, your lips nearly brushing his ear. "well," you murmur, "i could start by showing you how to properly kiss someone." your hand slides onto his thigh, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin material of his sweats. "then maybe we could explore a few... other things."

luigi swallows hard, his breath catching. you can feel the tension in his body, the way he's holding himself back.

"i, uh... i think i'd like that," he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper.

you pull back slightly, meeting his eyes. there's a mix of desire and nervousness in his gaze that sends a thrill through you. you decide to take charge, knowing he needs a little push.

"come here," you say softly, cupping his face with your free hand. you guide him closer, feeling his warm breath against your lips. pausing just a tiny bit away from his face, you let the anticipation build for a moment before closing the distance.

the kiss starts gentle, almost tentative. luigi's lips are soft, and you can taste a hint of the beer he'd been drinking earlier. as you deepen the kiss, you feel him relax into it, his hand coming up to rest on your waist.

you break away briefly, watching his face. his eyes are closed, lips slightly parted, a flush spreading across his cheeks. when his eyes flutter open, they're dark with want. "how was that?” you ask, grinning   "so good."  luigi's voice comes out barely a whisper. his eyes are still locked on yours, filled with a mixture of awe and growing desire. you can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at his reaction. "oh, we're just getting started," you murmur, running your fingers through his soft curls. he leans into your touch.

"show me more," he breathes, and the vulnerability in his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

you shift, swinging one leg over to straddle his lap. his hands instinctively move to your hips, gripping tightly as if to steady himself. you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the slight tremor in his fingers.

"you’re so shaky," you whisper, placing your hands on his chest. you can feel his heart racing beneath your palms. as you sit in his lap you can feel him hardening beneath you.

“are you already fucking hard?” you scoff, a smug grin playing on your lips. he can’t even look you in the eyes. “sorry,” he mutters. you look down at him,

 "that’s right." you say, your voice husky. you grind down against him slightly, eliciting a soft gasp.

luigi's grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. you can see the internal struggle playing out on his face—the desire to let go warring with his nervousness.

you lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw. "relax," you murmur against his skin. "just feel."

his head falls back, exposing the column of his throat. you take the opportunity to nip and suck at the sensitive skin there, leaving a mark that will be visible tomorrow. the thought of everyone seeing it, knowing what you did, sends a thrill through you.

luigi lets out a low moan, his hips bucking up involuntarily. "god," he breathes.

“i've never done this before, i'm sorry” he says, looking up at you with his wide brown eyes. he says it so desperately, and you know in that moment, you need to fucking ruin him.

"shh," you soothe, cupping his face in your hands. "i'm gonna take care of that."

his eyes search yours, vulnerability and trust shining in them. you lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. as you explore his mouth with your tongue, you feel some of the tension leave his body.

your hands slide down his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt. when you reach the hem, you break the kiss just long enough to murmur, "can i take this off?"

luigi nods eagerly, lifting his arms to help you remove the shirt. as it comes off, you can't help but admire his toned physique. your fingers trace the lines of his abs, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

"you're fuckin’ perfect," you breathe, leaning in to press kisses along his collarbone. he's unbearably hard beneath you and you can feel his erection pressing into your inner thigh. you grind down against him again, relishing the way his breath hitches.

"please," luigi whimpers, his hips jerking up to meet yours. 

"please what?" you tease, nipping at his earlobe. "use your words, lu." he swallows hard, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red.

"i... i need..." he trails off, struggling to articulate his desires. you decide to take pity on him.

"you want me to touch you?" you ask, your hand hovering just above the waistband of his sweats.

luigi nods frantically. "yes, god yes." he breathes.

slowly, torturously, you slide your hand beneath the fabric. when your fingers wrap around his length, luigi lets out a strangled moan, his head falling back against the couch. he's already dripping precum  you stroke him slowly, savoring the way he trembles beneath you.

his cock is hot and heavy in your hand, pulsing with each movement. you use his precum to slick your motions, making each stroke smoother.

"fuck," luigi gasps, his hips bucking into your touch. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as he pants heavily.

you lean in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his neck.

"does that feel good, baby?" you murmur against his skin.

he nods, unable to form words. his hands grip your hips tighter, fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks.

you speed up your strokes, twisting your wrist on the upstroke in a way that makes him cry out. "you're so responsive," you mutter, nipping at his earlobe. "i love it."

“i'm close,” he whines.you stop abruptly, pushing off his chest to look down at him. he’s looking up at you, wide eyed and needy.

“why'd you stop?” he practically begs.

“did i say you could fucking finish?” you chuckle cruelly.

“please,” he whines, his voice shaky.

“please let me finish,” he groans.

"anything you want, luigi" you coo, sliding down his lap and kneeling on the floor in front on the couch, both your hands planted on his thighs. you drag his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles, letting his erection spring free, his tip pink and swollen, glistening with precum.

"i'll let you finish," you say, taking his length in your hand before guiding the tip into your mouth. he's completely overwhelmed by the sight of you stroking him, taking him in your mouth and sucking softly.

"fuck," he breathes, his head falling back against the couch. his hands grasp at your hair as you slide your mouth down around his cock. you let him hit the back of your throat as you look up at him. you move up and down, the sound of you gagging on his thick cock fills the room.

he's lost in the sensation, his hips thrusting forward into your mouth, trying desperately to chase his release. he's so close, his entire body tense.

"fuck, please," he pleads, his voice strained. "let me cum, please." you pull off him, stroking him hard and fast. "beg for it," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips.

"please," luigi begs, his voice cracking. "i need to cum, please let me cum." you continue to stroke him, feeling his cock throb in your hand.

"let go, baby" you murmur, leaning forward to swirl your tongue around his tip.

"oh, fuck" he moans, his hips jerking erratically as his orgasm hits him.

you swallow down every drop of his cum, continuing to stroke him through his climax. he's gasping and shuddering, his fingers tangled in your hair.

when he's finally spent, you sit back, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

"you felt so fucking good," he pants, a smile spreading across his face.

"oh, you thought we were done?" you stifle a laugh.

"i'm nowhere near fuckin' finished with you." you say, his smile fading as you pull down your skirt and panties before climbing back onto his lap.

"but i just finished-" he says softly before you cut him off.

"you didn't think i was done with you did you? i haven't even come yet, luigi" you say, guiding his hand between your legs.

"just touch me," you command, pressing his hand firmly against your dripping cunt. he can feel how wet you are, how much you want him. he has no idea what to do, his fingers fumbling around between your thighs, his hand shaky.

"god, you're fucking useless." you mutter, gripping his cock firmly, slowly guiding him towards your entrance.

"you have no idea how much i've thought about this." you whisper, almost to yourself, slowly lowering yourself down on him, inch by inch.

you let out a low moan as you sink down fully, taking him all the way inside of you. he lets out a sharp gasp, his hips bucking up involuntarily. he looks up at you with those sweet brown eyes, his lips slightly puffy from being kissed.

"god, you're fucking perfect" you moan, your head tilting back in pleasure as you start to move. he's still overwhelmed by the new sensations, his eyes squeezing shut as you ride him.

"god, it's too much" he gasps, his fingers digging into you.  you're lost in the feeling of him inside you, filling you up.

"i know, baby, i know." you mutter, moving more roughly. he moans with every movement, his hips thrusting up to meet yours. he's completely under your spell, his body responding to yours.

"fuck, i'm close" he moans, his fingers digging into your hips.

"not yet," you order, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back.

"i can't take it," he whines, looking up at you once again, his eyes glassy, tears hanging from his dark eyelashes.

"shut the fuck up and take it." you groan, picking up the pace. he cries out as you ride him harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room.

"god, you feel so good," you moan, leaning down to kiss him deeply. you break the kiss, staring at his pretty face. he's all fucked out and crying,

"you're being so rough," he sobs.

"cum for me," you murmur, feeling your own orgasm approaching.

"god, i'm close" he manages to say, his voice strained and shaky.

"cum." you respond harshly, riding him harder.

he lets out a loud groan as he cums inside you, his cock twitching inside you. the feeling of him spilling inside you pushes you over the edge, and you cry out, your walls clenching around him.

as you both come down from your highs, the realization of what just happened starts to sink in. luigi's gaze falls away from yours, and he lets his head rest against the couch.

"you okay?" you ask, a little out of breath.

"yeah, just... a lot." he sniffles.

[luulapants]

25 ways to be a little more punk in 2025

Cut fast fashion - buy used, learn to mend and/or make your own clothes, buy fewer clothes less often so you can save up for ethically made quality

Cancel subscriptions - relearn how to pirate media, spend $10/month buying a digital album from a small artist instead of on Spotify, stream on free services since the paid ones make you watch ads anyway

Green your community - there's lots of ways to do this, like seedbombing or joining a community garden or organizing neighborhood trash pickups

Be kind - stop to give directions, check on stopped cars, smile at kids, let people cut you in line, offer to get stuff off the high shelf, hold the door, ask people if they're okay

Intervene - learn bystander intervention techniques and be prepared to use them, even if it feels awkward

Get closer to your food - grow it yourself, can and preserve it, buy from a farmstand, learn where it's from, go fishing, make it from scratch, learn a new ingredient

Use opensource software - try LibreOffice, try Reaper, learn Linux, use a free Photoshop clone. The next time an app tries to force you to pay, look to see if there's an opensource alternative

Make less trash - start a compost, be mindful of packaging, find another use for that plastic, make it a challenge for yourself!

Get involved in local politics - show up at meetings for city council, the zoning commission, the park district, school boards; fight the NIMBYs that always show up and force them to focus on the things impacting the most vulnerable folks in your community

DIY > fashion - shake off the obsession with pristine presentation that you've been taught! Cut your own hair, use homemade cosmetics, exchange mani/pedis with friends, make your own jewelry, duct tape those broken headphones!

Ditch Google - Chromium browsers (which is almost all of them) are now bloated spyware, and Google search sucks now, so why not finally make the jump to Firefox and another search like DuckDuckGo? Or put the Wikipedia app on your phone and look things up there?

Forage - learn about local edible plants and how to safely and sustainably harvest them or go find fruit trees and such accessible to the public.

Volunteer - every week tutoring at the library or once a month at the humane society or twice a year serving food at the soup kitchen, you can find something that matches your availability

Help your neighbors - which means you have to meet them first and find out how you can help (including your unhoused neighbors), like elderly or disabled folks that might need help with yardwork or who that escape artist dog belongs to or whether the police have been hassling people sleeping rough

Fix stuff - the next time something breaks (a small appliance, an electronic, a piece of furniture, etc.), see if you can figure out what's wrong with it, if there are tutorials on fixing it, or if you can order a replacement part from the manufacturer instead of trashing the whole thing

Mix up your transit - find out what's walkable, try biking instead of driving, try public transit and complain to the city if it sucks, take a train instead of a plane, start a carpool at work

Engage in the arts - go see a local play, check out an art gallery or a small museum, buy art from the farmer's market

Go to the library - to check out a book or a movie or a CD, to use the computers or the printer, to find out if they have other weird rentals like a seed library or luggage, to use meeting space, to file your taxes, to take a class, to ask question

Listen local - see what's happening at local music venues or other events where local musicians will be performing, stop for buskers, find a favorite artist, and support them

Buy local - it's less convenient than online shopping or going to a big box store that sells everything, but try buying what you can from small local shops in your area

Become unmarketable - there are a lot of ways you can disrupt your online marketing surveillance, including buying less, using decoy emails, deleting or removing permissions from apps that spy on you, checking your privacy settings, not clicking advertising links, and...

Use cash - go to the bank and take out cash instead of using your credit card or e-payment for everything! It's better on small businesses and it's untraceable

Give what you can - as capitalism churns on, normal shmucks have less and less, so think about what you can give (time, money, skills, space, stuff) and how it will make the most impact

Talk about wages - with your coworkers, with your friends, while unionizing! Stop thinking about wages as a measure of your worth and talk about whether or not the bosses are paying fairly for the labor they receive

Think about wealthflow - there are a thousand little mechanisms that corporations and billionaires use to capture wealth from the lower class: fees for transactions, interest, vendor platforms, subscriptions, and more. Start thinking about where your money goes, how and where it's getting captured and removed from our class, and where you have the ability to cut off the flow and pass cash directly to your fellow working class people

[highvern]

Totally Scrooged

Pairing: Lee Seokmin x f!reader

Genre: neighbor!au, idiots to lovers, fluff/angst/smut

warnings:  alcohol consumption, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), protected sex, lots of crying, mentions of cheating (not reader or seokmin), theater nerd Seokmin

Length: ~16k

Note: I was hoping to post this way earlier but alas. I got sick back to back over the holidays. ANYWAYS thank u my sweet @gyuswhore for beta reading and talking me down from the edge and @miniseokminnies for all the theater knowledge. And @ugh-yoongi bc words are hard. CHECK OUT the rest of the fics on @camandemstudios and keep an eye for our next project

summary: When your ex decides to propose to his best friend he told you not to worry about only eleven months after your breakup, you decide the holidays aren’t worth it this year. You’re dedicated to ignoring the red and green splashed on every surface, but your neighbor has a way of convincing you maybe the holidays aren’t totally bad.

collab m.list || m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Shot number four is about the time you realize drinking your sorrows alone in your apartment on a Saturday night is a little bit pathetic. But you unlock your phone out of habit and the same picture of your ex down on one knee in the middle of the street in marathon gear stares back at you and a fifth shot sounds exactly like what you need.

At least the burn of peppermint schnapps is festive.

Ten months. You and Sam split barely ten months and he’s already engaged to Carson. 

After three years of dating, getting Sam to talk about plans further than a month out was like pulling teeth. When he asked you to move in with him you thought there was a very real chance he suffered some head injury that day. Sam and long term commitment didn’t mix. Your entire relationship felt like borrowed time. His engagement proved it was the truth.

In hindsight, you should’ve trusted your gut about Sam’s “platonic” “childhood” “best” “friend.” 

They did everything together. Their families vacationed in Montauk every summer, they alternated who hosted which major holiday despite living next door, there isn’t a single milestone either achieved without the other. Every time you visited his parents house the plethora of photos of your boyfriend and his best friend from cradle to present day seemed to grow exponentially. 

She’s like my sister.

Most people would frown upon dating a sibling after breaking up with their long term girlfriend, who was sick at home with the flu during Christmas, via text but what do you know? You’re the one sitting on your couch in a tiny apartment you can barely afford wallowing in drunk sorrows while they’re out celebrating.

It’s addicting. Scrolling through all the comments on their engagement photos, with a blanket over your head like some fairytale witch. Sam’s friends you tried so hard to bond with flood the comments, gushing about how cute he and Carson are, how happy they are for them. 

Your friends text you how much of a jerk he is, a few call but you ignore them. All you want is to wallow in self pity.

Like the judgemental diva she is, Shinx watches from her tower in the corner, green eyes disdainful. She never liked Sam anyway.

It’d be better if Carson wasn’t objectively likable. Everyone liked her, you included. At least, until your boyfriend dumped you in a three sentence text and she posted a picture of them together on her Instagram not twenty four hours later with the caption “the best things take a while” – color coordinated for the Spencer family photo shoot in front of their lake house.

Assholes.

Even when she isn’t dolled up for pictures, you can’t even pretend she isn’t pretty. Carson looks like she belongs on a Hollywood set, even after running a 5k at the crack of dawn. Perfect messy ponytail, face rosie but not too red. It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair. 

Shot number seven empties the bottle.

Through the living room wall your neighbor belts the lyrics to Celine Dione’s “All By Myself.”

It was ignorable the first few times he replayed it – a little poetic even given the circumstances – but it’s been nearly twenty minutes and you don’t need to be reminded how alone you are. You rocket off the couch and land against the wall with a thud.

“Keep,” knock. “It.” Knock. “Down.” Knock. Knock. KNOCK.

Mr. Neighbor, because you don’t know his name, sings louder.

In the months you’ve lived in this apartment you’ve met your neighbor exactly twice. When you first moved in only two weeks after your break up because Sam’s name was on the lease - not yours – and this was the only place you could find on such short notice in the middle of winter. You had the unfortunate privilege of riding the elevator with him in complete silence, only the sound of your pathetic cries as you moved soggy box after box. He was at least polite enough to take the stairs afterwards. And last month, during a building-wide fire drill because someone on the second floor fell asleep while making boiled eggs. Neither of you felt very chatty at four in the morning.

You couldn’t care less about splotchy cheeks or if your eyes were bloodshot. In your drunken righteousness, you don’t care that there’s mascara running down your face or the sweatshirt billowing around you has grease stains. Something snapped in you. Gritting your teeth, you rush out to the hall and straight for the neighboring door.

Your knuckles sting with each knock but he doesn’t answer until you escalate to pounding against the metal door like the police.

Mr. Neighbor must hear that because Celine cuts off mid-belt. Seconds later the door flies open.

He’s taller than you remember, your eyes level with a hole in the collar of his sweater. When you drag your gaze away from the dip of his throat the combination of tears and booze make deciphering his face incredibly difficult because he has four of them and they keep moving back and forth in blurry circles. His dark hair sticks up in a million directions. Like he put his finger in an electric socket and then tried to fix the mess himself.

Mr. Neighbor stares at you, expression unreadable. “Can I help you?”

“You know,” you start, teetering on drunk feet as you shove an indignant finger into his chest. “Some of us just want to come home from work and relax! Not listen to their neighbors screaming at the top of their lungs.”

“I didn’t realize it was that loud,” he hiccups. “I’ll turn it down.”

It’s hard to be angry when he looks like a mirror image of you. Wet, red-rimmed eyes and a sniffling nose. There’s booze in the air which could be yours but with the state he’s in it’s doubtful. Who listens to “All by Myself” ten times if they aren’t also sobbing alone in the dark? 

Guilt squeezes your chest. “Sorry, I’m just…rough day.”

Mr. Neighbor doesn’t say anything for a long time, appraising you silently. If you weren’t drunk off your rocker then the fact you aren’t wearing a bra and the old sweater you tossed on does nothing to hide that fact might be embarrassing. Or how you aren’t even wearing shoes, just fuzzy socks with a hole in the ankle. You also smell like a drunk elf who escaped the North Pole.

“It’s okay. Sorry about the music.”

Mouth moving before you know what comes out, you stop him from leaving just yet. “Why are you crying?”

“Stupid shit,” he says. “Why are you crying?”

You want to brush it off. You’re not looking for pity. Sam objectively sucked and your relationship would’ve ended one way or another. While most people preferred not to be humiliated via social media, it showed his true colors and firmly shut the door. But sometimes, it just feels good to cry all the frustration out and wish the worst on people who deserved it. And you really would prefer not to do either of those things with your neighbor you hardly know. 

Especially, when you realize he’s objectively hot even through the blur of tears and intoxication. But alcohol has a way of losing even the tightest lips.

“My ex got engaged.”

His eyes widened in shock before softening in pity. 

“Do you wanna come in?”

You don’t sense any ulterior motive. Mr. Neighbor has the vibe of someone who never met a stranger, one of those people you tell your life story to in the airport when your flights are delayed only to leave and realize the only thing you learned about him was he also hated airline food and thought flying first class on domestic flights was a waste of money.

Maybe whatever “stupid shit” he was crying over can be a distraction from your own baggage. If it can’t, at least the invite to complain to a person completely unexposed to the drama of your love life wasn’t half bad. 

But you don’t know him. His stupid shit could be infinitely worse and then you look like the asshole while he’s crying over his childhood pet passing away back at his parents house while he’s stuck in his apartment because flights during Thanksgiving were ungodly expensive.

Either way, another person to whine about the world with sounded nice.

You say yes, following him inside.

Mr. Neighbor’s apartment is similar to yours; mirrors the layout of your cramped one bedroom except with neutral colors and a lot more decor. The couch divides the living area from the kitchen. Comfy blankets and pillows littered around. Someone actually lives here, unlike your place where the most personalized thing is fridge magnets. You didn’t feel the need to decorate an apartment you didn’t see yourself staying in very long. Even if it’d been almost a year and the lease renewal sat on your countertop, signed and ready to drop off at the leasing office.

He walks into the kitchen, leaving you to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room while he fishes in the cabinet for something. You sink into one of the leather barstools and watch as he pours water from a pitcher in the sink and slides it across the counter.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You drink it all in one go while he waits, sobering up enough to realize how embarrassing this all is. You’re drunk, in your mysterious neighbor's kitchen, crying about your ex-boyfriend. But he was drunk, listening to one of the most depressing songs in history, crying about “stupid shit.” Mutually assured destruction. 

“We only broke up at Christmas last year.”

“And he’s already engaged?”

“To his best friend.”

At that, Mr. Neighbor procures another glass and pours a little bit of whiskey before presenting it to you. “That’s rough.”

This time, you don’t even wince when you swallow.

He stares, waiting for some sort of reply, tipping the bottle into his own cup but not drinking it just yet. Now that he only has one face instead of four, your face heats. Drunk, sad and a little horny because he has really nice hands, and an even better face.

You tug your phone out and push it across the counter as a distraction for you both. Not that he probably needs it, you’re a wreck. “Here look at this picture.”

Mr. Neighbor scrolls through each picture methodically. Zooming in on strangers he doesn’t even know. Mouthing the caption in silent horror. In effort not to stare at his fingers, you focus on everything else in his apartment. 

His fridge is covered in magnets and take out menus, but mixed into the collage are pictures. Photobooth strips in black and white, some large normal photos better suited for a frame. You’re too far away to decipher any of it but curiosity itches you to get a closer look. Postcards from different places, sport theme magnets. Baseball seems to be his favorite.

“He proposed to her at a Turkey Trot?” he says, like the idea is incredibly alien.

“Their families have done it since they were born. Like their moms ran it pregnant and pushed them in strollers until they could keep up.”

“That is….”

You laugh. “Insane.”

“I’m glad you said it,” he chuckles. “Who proposes after running a marathon?”

“I know!” you cry.

You tip the bottle of whiskey into your once again empty mug. There will be hell to pay in the morning but you need something to do to distract from the way your heart pinches at the sound of his laugh. The sad drunk stage is tapering into the horny drunk stage and you really don’t need to ask your nameless neighbor if he wants to make out on his couch. Although, it looks leagues comfier than the second hand lump sitting a wall over. Drinking any more will only make it worse but you need something to do with your hands that doesn’t involve touching him, or thinking about touching him.

He circles the counter and takes the barstool next to yours. Close enough you can feel the heat from his body, the smell of soap and citrus faintly tickling your nose. You want to dive into his shirt and breathe it in until you fall asleep. 

Mr. Neighbor is just a decently attractive man that has been overly generous with his time and not been a creep. That is the only reason why your brain is latching onto him right now; you know it. In a few hours, when your head hangs limp over the toilet bowl, you’ll regret this entire interaction and even more if you make it weird.

You balk, rushing away from the thought and looking for a distraction. “I’m not like…pining over him, if that's what you’re wondering. It just sucks seeing your ex who was staunchly against any long term commitment make it clear he was only against long term commitment with you.”

Mr. Neighbor seems to believe you. So many of your friends thought you harbored feelings for Sam this long after the break up but the truth is, you almost expected things to end. Not on Christmas with nothing but a text message, but it always felt like you and Sam had one foot out of the relationship. The end brought certainty and for that you almost felt relieved.

“If it’s any help, I don’t think it was a ‘you’ problem.”

For a second, you want to believe he actually believes that. He’s not just saying it because he’s being nice and letting you cry in his kitchen and drink his booze. Everything about Mr. Neighbor screams PERPETUALLY NICE. Like he saves kittens from trees and walks old ladies across the street in his spare time.

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but he’s the one that kept you around while waiting for someone else. Sounds like an asshole to me,” he says.

“He is an asshole,” you whisper like a secret. Mr. Neighbor smiles back and you remember you don’t know his name.

He tells you without a shred of judgment.

“Seokmin.”

“I’m YN.”

“I know,” he blurts. His ears tinge pink just before his cheeks. “You had a friend come over one time, she yelled it pretty loud.”

Lydia only had two settings when talking: loud, and louder. Seokmin probably knew a lot more than just your name but was too polite to mention those sordid details.

“So, Seokmin. My drama aside, why were you crying? Or do you listen to depressing music to pregame a wild night out?”

Seokmin nods at your offer to top off his cup and chugs half of it with a wince.

“It feels kinda dumb now but I volunteer at the city theater downtown.”

That explains the framed playbills and theater tickets splashed across the living room walls. A story of all the productions he probably attended or participated in. You only recognized a few of the names. Perpetually Nice, indeed.

“Did one of them dump pig's blood on you while on stage?”

“No, nothing like that.” His mouth unzips into an amused grin. It looks much more fitting than the tears from earlier. “The director won a month-long European cruise and now I’m in charge of the winter production.”

What do people even do on a boat for that long?

“And I’m assuming you don’t want to be the director.”

“I did!” he groans. “But everyone is already emailing me and calling me, trying to bribe me into giving them bigger parts. Have you ever dealt with theater parents?”

Shaking your head, Seokmin grabs your hand with wide, terrified eyes. “They’re like dance moms on crack. I can’t handle it. Not to mention - surprise! - there’s no money for it and I have to do all the fundraising myself.”

Instead of responding, you fill each cup with another generous shot, clink glasses, and swallow them in tandem. The burn is long gone. Now, you feel like you're standing in the ocean, bobbing at the mercy of the waves as he keeps talking about the theater. How someone held him hostage after a meeting for an extra thirty minutes trying to convince him they didn’t need to audition. Someone else proposed an original production of Dracula as a break from the holiday slush every other theater planned. It glides right over your head, until he forces a glass of water into your grip.

“Sorry about my music,” he says.

“Sorry for being a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“Your ex also broke up with you for their childhood best friend?”

“No. The last one broke up with me for her dog walker.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, well he’s bald now.” He shrugs and takes another swig. Water not whiskey by the lack of grimace. “She’s also trying to audition.”

At least you have the privilege of watching your ex’s new courtship through the filter of social media. Seokmin is watching it play out a few feet away from him with a constant reminder that his ex-girlfriend was onto seemingly better things with a man who picked up dog shit for a living. Small mercies.

“How long have you two…” you trail off.

“Three months.”

His tone makes it clear there is nothing else he wishes to share on the matter. You get it. Three months after Sam you weren’t ready to talk about it, still kept all the shared memories you two had together in one of the boxes shoved deep in the hall closet. It wasn’t until nearly eight months passed that you finally donated what you could of the gifts he bought you and threw the other half away. Now, you can laugh at the way you sobbed over the ugly monogrammed dish towels from your shared apartment. When his mom gifted them for your birthday, the first thought you had was to burn them. 

“So what’s your play?”

Seokmin looks grateful for the swift change in topic. “A Christmas Carol.”

“Never seen it.”

“What?” he gasps. “It’s a classic!”

Below the counter, his knee presses firmly against your thigh. Seokmin doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because it stays there. Warm and grounded and all too tempting but you don’t move away either. A trickle of embarrassment heats your body when you realize you’re wearing the pajama pants Lydia got you for Secret Santa last year. The ones with cartoon gingerbread people fucking in small print all over them. If Seokmin looked down he’d see them in flagrante.

It didn’t mean anything but it felt nice. No way he saw your frumpy clothes and puffy face, crying over your ex and thought I want a piece of that. Typically, drinking only had two paths. On a normal night, you’d go from pleasantly buzzed to “wooo girl drunk,” as Lydia put it, then horny drunk shortly before falling asleep. Tonight, crying drunk meant no woo-ing and definitely no inappropriate thoughts. But Seokmin is the first real man to stoke a tiny ember of interest in months. 

It’d be messy. Not the act itself. Maybe. You’re tipsy and he doesn’t look any better but a sloppy makeout wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. However, making out with your neighbor and then dealing with the fall out of such a clumsy entanglement probably wasn’t worth whatever his hands were capable of.

So you snuff it out.

You shrug. “Not really a big Christmas person.”

“I would invite you to come see it but at this rate I doubt we’ll even have a show to begin with.”

You discover that given the chance, Seokmin talks a lot. Shares his entire life story about moving to the city with a group of friends from college, most of them living with their partners. How he found the theater while on lunch break from his job that he didn’t hate but didn’t like. Started volunteering. Met Martha, now ex-girlfriend, there. 

He also asks question after question about you, and somehow it doesn’t feel like he’s prying even though he hardly shares about himself. Probably because you’ve reached sleepy drunk and your eyes drop shut, responding while half asleep. You tell him everything. It’s not like you can embarrass yourself any further. But Seokmin doesn't make you feel the slightest bit of shame.

How you met Sam at a friend’s wedding and Carson was his plus one. How Carson’s boyfriends never seemed to meet Sam’s standards. How she was a little too friendly towards you but Sam swore Carson liked everyone. And from your experience, everyone liked her. Then, last Christmas, you stayed at home with the flu while the annual Phan/Spencer celebration took place and woke up to a nice heartfelt text message.

“That’s so fucked up.”

“Yeah, well what’s even more fucked up is his mom posting a picture of her with Carson captioned ‘the daughter I always wanted.’” you huff. “That really sucked.”

Seokmin doesn’t say anything. Not that he can. How do you comfort a stranger about a shitty relationship with even more beneath the surface? 

Instead, you both sit in comfortable silence, locked in separate trains of thought. It isn’t until he messes with his phone and Celine Dion materializes into the room once again that you realize how weird it is to be sitting there, sharing woes with a complete stranger.

“Well, I’m just gonna…” you start, sliding off the bar stool.

“Yeah…”

You don’t look back, making a beeline for the door. “Have a goodnight! I hope you aren’t eaten by steroid fueled theater nerds.”

You’re in the hallway, lock latched firmly behind, before he can respond.

You don’t see Seokmin for another week. Not like you saw him much before but now you have a name to the face, along with hobbies and a personality. And his hands. Which don’t seem to leave your memory despite the desperate effort you put into doing so.

Even if you don’t see him though, you hear him on the other side of your living room wall shuffling around when you get home from work. 

He keeps his sad playlist to a minimum, and his singing about the same, flat rumbles through the shared wall you can easily ignore. Sometimes you don’t. Occasionally, you’ll pause whatever Netflix dating show poisoning your brain and listen, eyes closed as your mind wanders.

You hear him humming as he passes your door on the way out to work in the morning while you sip coffee and answer emails from your kitchen counter. Sometimes it's showtunes you don’t recognize, others it's Christmas carols. Seokmin has a lovely voice you realize, now free from irritation. It’s weird you never noticed before.

Apparently, Lydia noticed him long before you did.

You finish telling her about the entire debacle with Sam and Carson. Lydia doesn’t believe in social media of any kind so all of her life updates come over Bananagrams and face masks during your semi-weekly Thursday girl’s night at her apartment.

“You just hang out with your hot neighbor drunk and don’t make a move?” she tsks.

“How do you know my neighbor is hot?”

“Unlike you, I pay attention to my surroundings.” 

Part of the reason she deleted all her social media was because she wanted to be more ‘in the moment.’ This proves that maybe it actually worked. 

Grabbing more letter tiles, you brush off the taunt. “Well, unlike you, I can keep it in my pants.”

“How long has it been since you let someone under the hood?”

“Not that long,” you grumble.

“Really?” Lydia rolls her eyes at the next word you spell, S-A-D. 

“Shut up. It was the only one I could find.” You take another sip of hot cider. The hangover from last week's bender still haunts you. “Horny isn’t spelled with an ‘I’ or an ‘E’.”

“It’s been so long I thought you’d forget how it's spelled.”

A few hours and a couple of episodes of Temptation Island later, you're back home. The chilly air creeps into the mailroom, numb fingers struggling to unlock your mailbox. Bill. bill, catalogue, not yours, bill…

As the elevator carries you up to your floor, you find the last letter. A gold wax seal, velvety envelope. No. No, no, no, no, no.

But it is real and it’s exactly what you’re afraid for it to be when you rip it open right there in the hallway. The picture of Carson and Sam staring deep into each other’s eyes, love-soaked down to the finest details. His hand on her knee, both oblivious to the camera and not in the faux staged way of so many wedding announcements. 

Michael and Dena Spencer along with 

Jason and Zoya Phan 

Invite you to celebrate the marriage of their children,

Samuel Spencer and Carson Phan

You fling the card away like a venomous snake. 

What the hell is wrong with them? Is it not enough you were the collateral damage in their whirlwind romance? Now they go and rub it in your face how happy they are together. You were the last obstacle to make them realize they couldn’t live without each other, the catalyst for their happiness. And now you have a tangible reminder of the fact.

Thankfully, the hallway is empty so no one witnesses your mental breakdown. A silent stand off with a glossy wedding announcement. You’re tempted to leave it there, let Sam and Carson get trodded on until they’re nothing but limp confetti. 

But you can’t. You snatch the announcement from the floor and bolt to your door, key scraping the lock again and again. You just need to get inside. Get inside and then you can go DEFCON 1, shred the entire letter and do something else rash like give yourself bangs you’ll regret in the morning.

The key still won’t find home in the lock and you’re on the verge of giving up when you realize Seokmin is singing along to some record just a few feet away.

You don’t know him well enough to go banging on his door. One drunken bitch session did not a friend make. Even if the drunk bitch session involved recounting life stories and embarrassing childhood moments. Or pajamas with gingerbread people fucking which he definitely noticed.

But you can’t be left alone with this bomb.

Seokmin is standing before you barely a second after knocking, eyebrows scrunched together. You shove the invite into his chest and wait.

“How does he have your address?” he asks.

You shrug. “I made him mail most of my stuff.”

“Why?” Seokmin turns back into his apartment, the door open in invitation as he falls onto the couch.

“Because he cheated on me. The least I could get was him paying three hundred bucks in shipping.”

“You are a very scary woman.”

You follow. This time, you notice more details. His record player is tucked in the corner, crates of vinyl stacked next to it. The candle burning on the coffee table fills the room with the scent of teak and orange. You recognize it as the same one Lydia got you for your birthday; ‘the boyfriend scent’ as she called it. Of course, he’d have it.

“Thank you.”

Now that you’re here, you’re not sure what to do. Seokmin keeps looking at the invite like some puzzle. Like some underlying explanation is written in invisible ink. There isn’t one. The reason for the invite is clear: your feelings don’t matter and they never did. 

“I can’t believe they sent you a wedding invite. That’s so fucked up.”

“I’m probably gonna see all the pictures on Instagram soon anyway. At least, this ripped the band aid off. It just sucks they get to rub it in my face.”

“You still follow them, do they follow you?”

They do. Carson and Sam both follow you but you haven’t posted a single picture since the break up so it’s not like they’re reminded of your presence. Not the same way they remind you. There hasn’t been much worth posting either. You go to work, come home, shower, sleep, repeat. The occasional weekend at the farmers market or trip to the bookstore breaks up the monotony don’t inspire you to post. 

“Why?” you ask.

“You want something to rub in their faces.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“Is there anything he hated doing while you guys dated?”

You laugh at the irony of the one thing Sam hated more than anything else. “He hated being posted on social media.”

“I have an idea.”

“Does it involve more Celine Dion and whiskey?”

“No,” he smiles. “It’s called a ‘soft launch'. One of the high schoolers explained it to me today.”

“Why are you talking to highschoolers about relationships? Actually, nevermind.” You snatch the invite away from his hands and flip it face down onto the couch. “And what is the point of me soft launching a nonexistent relationship?”

“He sent you a wedding invitation.”

“Okay?”

“So he’s either insane or isn’t completely over you. This is a way to show him you don’t care.”

“He broke up with me on Christmas while I was dying of the stomach flu. I don’t think he cares.”

Seokmin rises from the couch and heads towards the kitchen. “Do you want some wine?”

“Just water.”

He’s wearing the same costume as last week, sweatpants and a sweater. But his hair is a little wet and falls over his glasses. The look, the boyfriend candle, everything Lydia suggested… You should go home before making an idiot of yourself.

Seokmin returns with two glasses, places them both on the coffee table before tossing you a blanket. How can you leave now? It’d be rude. Besides, you want to find out where his offer is going.

“As I was saying: soft launch.”

“I still don’t understand where this is going.”

“You post it on your story, he sees, feels like a huge idiot, and then—”

“And then what? I don’t want him back.” But the thought of making Sam squirm is a validating one. Let him see you the way he’s forced you to see him. Happily moved on with someone else. Even if it isn’t real. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

It’s an easy photo. In theory. Nothing too suggestive, nothing that shows his face. But should you be touching? How much touching is appropriate for a man you’ve talked to twice? Seokmin doesn’t seem to know either. He searches the internet for inspo, some far too intimate for you to dream of. Sitting on his lap? Absolutely not. Having him hold you around the waist? No way. None of it would be believable.

“Okay, what about this one?” he asks after twenty minutes of scrolling.

On the surface, it’s nothing bad. The picture is relatively innocent with Person A’s legs draped over Person B’s lap, hand placed on Person A’s shin. Nothing crazy. At this point, you just want it over with.

“Fine.”

You wore semi-decent sweatpants this time so you don’t worry about that. It’s the entire premise of touching Seokmin so casually and having him touch you in return. But you take it in stride as you both maneuver and twist until you're a perfect copy of the already existing image.

Opening the camera on your phone, you snap a pic and hand it to Seokmin for approval.

“Eh…”

“‘Eh’? What does ‘eh’ mean?”

Apparently, ‘eh’ means Seokmin is wrapping his entire hand around your knee, the other hand on your ankle, and pulling you closer until your butt rests flush against the outside of his thigh. And then he doesn’t move either hand while waiting for you to snap a new picture. It feels like a thousand  pounds.

When you’re done, he leans over to assess the photo and you’re stuck with the image of him hovering over you. The picture goes up on your story, embellished with a heart emoji and Seokmin leaves your space but only barely.

“Should I RSVP too?” you joke. It’s weak, your voice thin because you don’t know if he can tell your sweating. 

He leaves even more space between you at that, scratching the back of his neck. “Ugh—”

“I wouldn’t actually go but I like the idea of them wasting money.”

“You know what? Do it. Did they give you a plus one?”

You jolt at the idea of Seokmin filling in the role. Focus. 

Their wedding site is filled with Pinterest inspiration level engagement photos. You ignore the fact it’s at the park Sam took you to for your first date. You don’t own Emerald Park, or the fountain in the background of their pictures where you and Sam first kissed, and you certainly didn’t own the botanical gardens frozen around them as they walked hand in hand. Hundreds of other couples, you and Sam included, visited Emerald Park all the time. It just feels tacky they would do a full photoshoot where half a dozen of your relationship landmarks lay. But Carson probably owned those spots well before you came into the picture.

Once you hit ‘Yes’ on the RVSP, including your fake plus one, things peter out into awkward silence. You’re still draped over Seokmin’s lap, his hands absentmindedly running up your shin, smoothing the wrinkles in your pants.

Who gets turned on from having their shin fondled?

“How is your play going?” you ask.

“Not horrible.”

“But?”

“Our sets are old, we don’t have costumes and we open in three weeks.” 

Seokmin seems to be in the acceptance stage of his grief. At least he isn’t wailing any more Now That’s What I Call Depressing music.

“So it’s not too late for that space idea then?”

He cracks up at that and you feel glowy from the sound of his laugh, the way his chest shakes. He squeezes your ankle. You preen. He still has his hand on your knee, thumb burning uneven circles through the thick fabric.

“I don’t know if anyone wants to see Scrooge in a space suit.”

“Who?”

Seokmin takes the question as a personal affront and decides you can’t leave his apartment without watching at least one version of A Christmas Carol. 

You try not to read into things but there aren’t many explanations available. The TV plays the animated version with Jim Carry starring in almost every role which is apparently second only to the muppets version.. Seokmin popped popcorn. And when he came back to the couch, he pulled your legs back over his lap like it was normal. You’re rusty on dating but the amount of times your hand brushes his in the popcorn bowl is starting to border on ridiculous.

Instead of focusing on how this feels a lot like a date, you focus on the movie. Or try to. It helps that Seokmin remains unaware of your inner turmoil, he’s too busy gauging whether you hate or love the movie and looking for your reaction every time one of the ghosts appears. 

The angle isn’t conducive to watching the movie either. You can’t turn without straining your neck, unless you pull away from his hold which you don’t want to do at all. And Seokmin is so focused on your reactions that he isn’t catching much of the film either.

He clearly loves it, and wants you to love it too. So you act extra interested but it’s not difficult because clearly he sees something spectacular happening on screen and it makes you eager to see it too. Even if only to distract from his thumb slipping beneath your sock and circling the knob of your ankle.

The movie fades to black, Scrooge is redeemed and your neighbor is watching you with bated breath.

“So…”

You smile at his eagerness. “It was good.”

“Isn’t it? It’s a classic.”

Something about his sheer enthusiasm tugs at your heart strings. 

“I’ll help you.”

Everything in your body screeches WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

Seokmin must think the same thing, face slack in disbelief. Too late, you’ve already committed. 

“My company is always throwing money at stuff during the holidays,” you rush, face heating. “Maybe they could sponsor you guys to help with the sets or something.”

He keeps staring and you keep talking because you’re not sure if this crosses some invisible line. Unlike the touching, or the picture, or the ugly crying last week. Slowly, amazement rooted on his face.  Even in your rumpled clothes, he looks at you like you’ve dropped nothing short of a miracle in his lap.

In a flurry of motion, Seokmin drags you into a hug, arms tight around your back, crushing you into his chest. The baggy sweaters you’d seen him in all of once hid firm ridges of muscle. You try not to indulge but your hands are wedged tightly between your bodies, and you’re practically sitting in his lap at this point. 

And as fast as it happened, he lets you go and nearly flings himself off the opposite end of the couch. 

“Sorry! I just—” His head cocked to the side. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated—”

“I love taking money from people who don’t need it. It’s one of the few joys in my life actually,” you say. “And if they don’t sign a check, we can always try armed robbery. Do you own a ski mask?”

He pretends to think before smiling. “Funnily enough, I don’t. But something tells me you do.”

“A woman never reveals her secrets.”

The next few days pass uneventfully. You hear Seokmin come home later and later, pointedly aware that you’re aware of his coming and going. Occasionally, when it’s still early, he knocks an odd rhythm on the wall separating your living rooms and you learn it's a summons. He wants to watch a movie, or share dinner because he made too much, or hear something about your day that didn’t involve a six year old attempting an accent for their character and sounding like Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. 

Even when you give him your number, he still knocks. Everytime you fight the urge to squeal like you’re back in high school.

The show is going as well as it can. People have their parts (with minimal complaining). Most of the costumes are free of mold (he sent you pictures wearing half the wardrobe). And Seokmin is maintaining his sanity. Barely.

In the rush of it all, you made a promise not to fuck where you eat. One messy break up requiring a move was enough for a lifetime. While Lydia took every update as another sign he was into you, the risk was too much. What if you misread everything? What if Seokmin wasn’t completely over his ex-girlfriend? She hadn’t come up again since that first night but that didn’t mean anything. At that stage of your break-up you hardly talked about Sam. Maybe Seokmin was still pining for her and you were just there. Or vice versa. He could see you were having a difficult time with the engagement and offered a shoulder to cry on.

Even worse, what if you did sleep with him and it was bad. So bad you could never look him in the eye again. Or he could have a weird dick. Or cry after sex. What if he secretly had a piss kink and that was the real reason Marta broke up with him? The lack of red flags only point to some flaw below the surface you hadn’t learned about yet.

Lydia thought it was ridiculous.

“I will bet my first edition Hobbit that his dick is completely normal,” she huffs through the speaker, the sound of her stationary bike echoing in the background.

Your Friday nights are usually spent curled up on the couch with wine and a movie but you couldn’t wait to give Seokmin the envelope containing a metaphorical golden ticket. The downtown streets are crowded near the theater where the entire cast and crew are spending the evening polishing up the existing set pieces but you brave it, if only to see the look on his face at the number of zeroes on the check.

“You just want me to sleep with him.”

“Is it so wrong I want my best friend to sleep with a nice, attractive man? Do you know how rare those are in this city?”

Your eyes roll. “He is my neighbor.”

“Your hot neighbor. Who has a normal dick and listens to Celine Dion when he’s sad.”

Something stopped you from telling her about the picture, and how Seokmin stayed cuddled up to you the rest of the night. Probably because you know she’d add it to the mounting pile of reasons to ruin whatever tentative friendship built between you. 

You find a parking spot and bid Lydia goodbye.

The building lobby, with sleek marble archways and a dusty chandelier the size of your living room, is empty sans a lone security guard scrolling on his phone. He doesn’t try to stop you as you stroll right past and into the auditorium. You don’t want to be a creep that watches from the dark but the sight of your neighbor stops you in your tracks. To hear about his work was one thing, however, seeing him in his element is another. 

He’s got paint all over his shirt and jeans and his hair is a mess from running his hands through it but he addresses the entire cast with confidence. Answers their questions, points the crew in the right direction, scans his binder next to someone with a headset who must be important. 

Everyone is caught up in their work so they don’t notice as you approach from the aisles, footsteps muffled by the carpeted floors. You’ve never been here before but the history of the building isn’t lost on you. The walls and ceiling stretch high above, intricate moldings weaving up to frame large murals of greek-style motifs. The cushioned seats had seen better days. Red velvet crushed flat, ripped seams and stained with time. But it has a charm to it.

It was easy to imagine Seokmin finding home in this place. Losing himself on stage, spending hours and hours hidden away with a script.

He finally notices your presence when you approach one of the side stage staircases.

“And what do I owe the honor?” he asks, lips unzipping into a grin you can’t help but return.

You wave the white envelope in response, bowing comically low. “I come bearing a gift.”

“Is that—“

You nod solemnly, forcing it into his hands. “Open it!”

Seokmin stares at the envelope the same way he stared at you the night you offered to help him out. A small miracle in the palm of his hand. Your boss signed the check without question. It was a good look to sponsor local events, great publicity and a tax write off. The second you mentioned there were children in the cast and it was volunteer only he doubled the donation.

Seokmin opens the envelope, pausing to read. His eyes bulge. “Two grand? Are you serious?”

“Yep. All it took was the promise of two pages in the back of the program. So if you could get that message passed along.”

He hasn’t looked away from the check as a flush rises up his neck. “I’ll get their logo tattooed on my forehead if they want.”

“Tried that…” you joke. “They went up to two thousand with the promise you wouldn’t..”

“This is…” 

You’re swept into a hug tight enough to pop something in your back. Too tight, with your arms wedged between your chests like the first time but you don’t mind. Seokmin is warm

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chants, spinning you around.

You soak in the contact for as long as you can. Seokmin gives great hugs, better than great. You didn’t realize you craved the firm comfort of his arms until you had it once again and now that you do, you don’t want him to stop.

You notice someone watching over Seokmin’s shoulder. She’s pretty. Dark curly hair, button nose, big doll eyes boiling with indignation. 

“Is that her?” you whisper into his neck.

“Her who?”

“Mrs. Bald dog walker.”

Seokmin loosens his grip just enough to look.  “Yeah. Why?”

You bury your face back into the crook of his and give him a squeeze. Seokmin returns it instinctively, arms slug across the small of your waist like a puzzle piece. 

“Marta isn’t the jealous type,” he whispers.

“Huh, that’s weird.” Your lips purse. “Because she just stormed off.”

Seokmin whips around to look at the now vacant spot where his ex-girlfriend once stood.

“Consider it as my thank you for the soft launch.”

“Did that actually work?” he asks.

You can’t admit you forgot to check if either Carson or Sam looked at your post. Coincidentally enough, you were too wrapped up in thoughts of the man before you to remember the entire reason he touched you so casually that night was for petty revenge and not because he actually wanted to.

“Who cares?” you bluff. “Anyway, I was thinking of another fundraiser. Maybe it can give you guys some money for some updated set pieces.”

They could definitely use it. One of the stagehands staples fabric across a hole in the couch so wide you’d bet money the next person who sits on it would sink straight through to the ground, another slathers a thick layer of white paint on a dry rotted board. What good are new costumes without good props?

“If you keep helping us out, they’re gonna have to change the name of the building.” Seokmin smiles down at you. His hand is still at the small of your back but even through the many layers protecting you from the chill you can feel the heat of his touch.

“I’ve always wanted a theater named after me. Like a Rockefeller or something.”

“So what is this idea?”

You gaze at him expectantly. “How many of your friends are single?”

It took little convincing for your plan. Seokmin turns out to be a bartender and his boss agrees to host it (pending a small cut of the proceeds), and several of his friends volunteer to help a good cause.

You’ve never been to this bar either but it somehow fits him too. Not a complete dive but cozy and well weathered. Multicolored string lights hang from the rafters so thick you can’t even see the ceiling, and posters, neon signs, and other decor obscure the walls. A low platform in one corner clearly meant for live entertainment becomes the auctioneer block with a banner strewn above reading THEATER FUNDRAISER in painted bubble letters.

Most of the people in the crowd are involved in the theater one way or another. Volunteers, cast and crew, a few parents coming for the drink specials and a show. A few outsiders mix in with the batch; regulars, people who saw the chalkboard sign on the street and got curious. Seokmin’s friends linger around the pool table in the corner, nervously shuffling around.

You’re on your way over to finalize the order when Seokmin and Lydia intercept you. 

“Small problem,” he says.

“What?” 

Lydia sighs. “Mingyu has a girlfriend.”

“Since when?” you ask.

“Apparently fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh,” you say. “Good for him.”

“Except we’re a man down.”

“I’ll do it,” Seokmin interjects.

Your gut curls. The idea of someone, not you, going on a date with him leaves a sour note in your mouth. But you’re not in a position to say anything. 

But it doesn’t stop you.

“You can’t!” you blurt.

“Why not?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Lydia looks down right maniacal at your outburst. No way are you going to admit whatever feelings you have for Seokmin right now. 

“Who is gonna be the host if you’re busy?”

“I’ll do it,” Lydia says. There’s a dare in her gaze. She can smell bullshit a mile away. “Unless there’s some other reason Seokmin needs to host.”

She bats her eyelashes with all the innocence of the devil.

“Fine,” you nod.

Lydia snags the mic from Seokmin and bolts for the stage. “Alright, settle in! Tonight we’re raising money for a good cause. So let’s get this show on the road, and remember—no refunds, no takesies backsies, and no funny business! We take Venmo or cash. No checks! Now, first up, we have Seungcheol!”

Seungcheol steps up to the stage, body lax as the crowd eyes him up and down. He was the first person to volunteer when you explained your idea – spawned from many sorority fundraisers in college – to Seokmin. The others followed suit shortly after, giving you six men in total willing to go on a date (no funny business) in the name of supporting the arts.

“Twenty dollars!” a woman in a dark jacket calls.

“At least let me tell you about him before going at him like a piece of meat!” Lydia jokes.

Someone else interjects. “Forty dollars!”

Lydia ignores her. “He enjoys camping, sports, and long walks on the beach,” she reads off the notecard. “And he can fix your car courtesy of Choi Mechanics.”

“Seventy five.”

People keep increasing their bids, Seungcheol clearly enjoying the attention as he jokes and winks towards the more eager ones. He’s preening while you and Seokmin watch in giddy amusement by the pool table, faces hidden in your drinks.

“Two hundred dollars!” someone near the back calls.

“Two fifty!”

“That’s Seungcheol’s girlfriend,” Seokmin whispers from your side.

You try to get a better look but Seungcheol’s girlfriend remains hidden at a table behind several others. 

“Then why is he doing this?”

Seungkwan comes up beside you. “Because they’re exhibitionists.”

“Sold!” Seungcheol yells.

“I’m the one with the gavel,” Lydia objects. She pounds the gavel to emphasize her power. “Sold for two hundred and fifty dollars!”

Seungcheol drops a wad of cash from his own wallet into the bucket at the front of the stage and disappears into the corner of the room where his girlfriend waits. You make a mental note to avoid that side of the bar for the rest of the night, just in case.

The other guys go easy, thriving on the momentum of Seungcheol. Soonyoung gets a date with a woman old enough to be your mother but he looks positively thrilled. Even Mingyu stops by to drop a couple bucks into your hand as an apology. Then it’s Seokmin’s turn.

“He can cook, he’s good with kids, and he makes a mean mojito,” Lydia announces. “Give it up for our favorite bartender, Seokmin!”

The crowd has mellowed out but remains enthusiastic, regulars and theater people alike clapping as he comes forward. Even his boss behind the bar rings a large bell mounted on the wall reserved for good tippers. Someone wolf whistles and Seokmin goes red.

“Let’s start the bidding at thirty bucks,” Lydia says.

“Fifty!” someone calls.

By some feat of the universe, Seokmin transforms into a maroon faced mess.

You look around the bar and spot her at a table close to the edge of the stage. That ugly gut punch from earlier rears its head again at the gleam in her eyes, like she can’t wait to sink her teeth into Seokmin the first chance she gets. You don’t want Seokmin going on a date with her. You don’t want him going on a date with anyone.

Your mouth is open before you realize. “A hundred.”

Seokmin, Lydia, and just about everyone else in the bar whip their head in your direction. You refuse to look at any of them, staring down your competition as she raises her hand to counter.

“One fifty.”

“Two hundred.”

“Three fifty,” she says, smirking at you.

Lydia levels you with expectant looks. Seokmin watches you like you’re a wild animal, unsure of your next move. You’re in too deep now. 

“Four hundred dollars.”

Your competition opens her mouth to rebut; however, Lydia is already swinging the gavel, “Sold! To the beautiful woman in the ugly sweater. Come get your man!”

Seokmin catches your arm before you can open your purse. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s for a good cause. Besides, think of it as a thank you for saving me from spending all my money on take out.”

He stares at you for a second too long, frozen in his own disbelief. You’re lying and you both know it but to admit that him going on a date with someone else, even for a good cause, made you jealous ventures over a line you’re not ready to cross just yet.

“Alright, that was our last man of the night,” Lydia announces into the mic. “Which means we’ve raised a whopping two thousand six hundred dollars for our local theater.”

Everyone cheers once again. The atmosphere is light but the bubble surrounding you and Seokmin is anything but. 

He raises an eyebrow skeptically as you shove bills into the collection bucket, pointedly looking anywhere but him lest your face match the red of his own. It doesn’t matter though. You can feel the heat on your cheeks, the sweat at your hairline. Four hundred dollars to go out with a guy. 

At least it’s for a good cause.

Seungkwan saves you from whatever questions Seokmin has, pushing his friend back to work behind the bar before cornering you into conversation.

“You,” Seungkwan says.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I’m having a pre-game at my house tomorrow night. You’re invited.”

“Oh,” you blink. “I’m not really a partier.”

“It’ll be a small thing. Most of the guys here and my roommate. We’re going to Jane’s after.”

“I’ve never been there before.”

Seungkwan stomps indignantly. “You’ve never been to Jane’s? Jane’s is a neighborhood institution.”

“I guess I never got around to exploring much,” you shrug.

“Why not?”

A creature of habit such as yourself, you rarely went to new places. You liked the places you already knew, the ones you didn’t have to guess if you liked. Besides, you hadn’t felt like going out much in the past few months, something always coming up including reasons, such as: you liked your apartment with cheaper drinks, less cigarette smoke, and no strange men trying to mansplain American Psycho.

Lydia appears at your side, new drink in hand. “Did someone say party?”

“It starts at eight thirty, but don’t come until nine. Seok will give you the address.”

Seungkwan disappears into the crowd, leaving you and Lydia hovering at the edge of the stage all alone. If there was one person besides Seokmin you didn’t want to be left alone with, it was her. But it’s too late to escape.

In the face of total mortification, you try to put on a brave face.

“Four hundred? Really?” Lydia asks.

“Shut up,” you mumble into the cup of melted ice.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’ve met your friends before,” you snort.

Seokmin rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, but they can be a lot and that’s coming from me.”

You refused to let the car ride on the way over be awkward, plowing through whatever cobwebs lingered between you two. Luckily, Seokmin went along, recalling horror stories from Seungkwan’s yearly holiday pre-game. There was the year Soonyoung attempted making hot cider and gave everyone food poisoning. The year after where Mingyu ended up breaking the bathroom doorknob resulting in the fire department coming out to free him because he got stuck trying to crawl out the window above the shower. And most recently, Jeonghan – who you haven’t met yet – hid under the couch for the sole purpose of grabbing people’s ankles as they walked by; except he fell asleep and Seungkwan found him the next morning while cleaning.

Nothing you couldn’t handle.

“Well, if it's too much I’ll send you some code to leave.”

“What should I be looking for exactly?” he asks, lips quirked.

“I’ll start making ghost noises.”

Seokmin snorts when you start demonstrating. “But that happens so frequently. How about morse code?”

“How about I scream at the top of my lungs?” you grin.

“Works for me.”

Seokmin knocks against the dark wood door leading to Seungkwan’s apartment.

“COME IN!” Seungkwan belts, flinging the door open wide. “For me?”

You hand over the bottle of wine with flourish. Heaven forbid you show up anywhere empty handed, a habit hammered in by your mother. “For you.”

Seungkwan pulls you inside. “I like you more and more. Come on, everyone else is already here.”

The doorway leads straight into the crowded living room. You recognize Seungcheol, a woman his same height tucked into his side as they chat with Lydia on the couch. Coincidentally, she lives two floors above Seungkwan and Vernon and was thrilled to discover mailroom guy had a name and good taste in music.

You quickly scan beneath the couch for any full grown men and are mildly disappointed to find none.

Seokmin gets caught up in ‘hellos’ while you pad down the hallway after Seungkwan; into the kitchen where Mingyu stirs something on the stove.  Cocoa and vanilla flood your nose, the warmth of the kitchen driving away the lingering chill from outside. Seungkwan puts the wine on the counter before pulling mugs out of the cabinets. 

“What’s this?” you ask.

“Spiked hot chocolate,” Mingyu says. He adds a splash of peppermint schnapps to the pot and starts stirring again before pouring two mugs: one for you and one for Seokmin. “There’s whipped cream over there.”

You’re shaking the can of whipped cream when an arm reaches over your shoulder and pulls it out of your grip.

“Just say when,” Seokmin says.

He piles a comical mountain of whipped cream into your mug, and then a matching one on his own. There are sprinkles as well as chocolate shavings and you both artfully decorate your drinks with handfuls of each.

“I think we have more whipped cream than hot chocolate,” you say.

“There’s no such thing as too much whipped cream.” 

You both take a long sip and when he’s done you choke. He’s got whipped cream on his nose, his lips, and his cheeks. 

“What?” Seokmin asks.

“You’ve got,” you laugh. “Let me help.”

He stands perfectly still as you wipe his face with a paper towel. You’ve been this close to Seokmin before but with amusement instead of nerves clouding your system, you notice details you hadn’t before. The mole of his cheek. Two. One a little more pronounced than the other. Cute.

“Alright, all done,” you announce, finally noticing the way he stares down at you softly. So much for not having any nerves. “C’mon, I wanna see if Jeonghan is hiding under the couch before we leave.”

You lead him out of the kitchen, looking for anyway to cut the tension—

“KISS!” Lydia demands. 

You scan the room for who she’s screaming at in an apartment full of strangers only to find her finger pointed straight above your head.

Mistletoe.

Mingyu barrels out of the kitchen to join in on the chaos.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” they all chant. Soonyoung cups his hands around his mouth and belts it loud enough your heart lurches. 

“We don’t have to,” Seokmin whispers, cheeks and ears bright red.

“It’s fine.”

You plan for a quick peck on the cheek but Seokmin goes for his left while you go for your left and you’re not kissing but something dangerously close to it. The sticky residue of sugar and chocolate registers against your lips, a little bit of stubble missed when he shaved this morning. Barely a second of contact, just the edge of his mouth against yours but the world spins backwards and you nearly fall over. 

As fast as it happens, you both draw back, staunchly avoiding eye contact but staying pressed close.

Seokmin wraps an arm around your waist, steadying you against his check. “You okay?”

His breath skims over your lips. The temptation to roll on to your toes and kiss him for real sends your heart racing. Your chin lifts. Seokmin looks at your mouth. And…

“Who's ready to party?” Chan calls, breaking the atmosphere. 

The walk to Jane’s is nothing short of hell. Snow falls in thin sheets, frigid air sneaking past the lining of your coat and straight into your bones. In the middle of the pack you aren’t as exposed thanks to Seokmin to your right, Lydia on the other side, and a gaggle of the others walking in front. 

Your hand keeps accidentally brushing Seokmin’s, sending a rush of pins and needles up your arm each time. You both pretend to ignore it.

The barren street outside the bar doesn’t hint at what waits within except for the dull hum of life sneaking past the door. It feels like half the city is packed inside, forcing everyone to slither past each other because there is simply no room. 

Seungkwan wasn’t lying when he said it was a neighborhood institution. A stage is set up at the far wall, drunks belting their hearts out. Your group fans out to the bar, snagging drinks before taking the pilgrimage to a small table near the stage. Seokmin keeps you close the entire time. Guiding you to a seat, insisting on standing right behind the chair and talking to his friends over your shoulder.

You sag in your seat, content to soak in everyone else's conversations. The edge of your mouth still burns from the contact of the kiss, the same sensation everywhere Seokmin touches. You crave more. Like a sunflower searching for the sun. You lean against the back of the chair for a chance to feel his chest against your back. He doesn’t shy away when you do either. You can’t see his face but Lydia sits across the table watching with a pleased smirk. 

“A toast,” Seokmin starts as the song fades and the next group to the stage. Someone wrangled a tray of red and green shots to the table and Seungkwan passes them around. “To Y/N. We wouldn’t have a show without her.”

“Yes, you would,” you correct.

“But we wouldn’t have new costumes,” says Seungkwan. “Do you know how old the costumes we were gonna wear are?”

“And we have new sets. We haven’t bought a new set piece in like fifty years,” Chan interjects. 

Soonyoung speaks up next. “And I got a date!”

Seokmin slings an arm over your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. “You’re a miracle worker.”

Cheeks hot, you hide your smile at the bottom of the shot glass.

Focus shifts as Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan take the stage for “No Scrubs” the entire bar signs along to. They’re born performers. Soaking in every minute of attention, riling the crowd up until your ears go numb.

You try not to think of the almost kiss but it’s hopeless. Two drinks down and the only thing on your mind is the eclectic feeling on his mouth on your skin. 

You’re so deep in your thoughts, you don’t notice Seokmin has come back to the table with a new drink for you until he’s nudging your shoulder with his.

“How do you like it?”

“Way better than the depression playlist,” you joke.

“Celine Dion is a classic.”

“Yeah, but after the first five times she loses her edge.”

Seokmin shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Blasphemy.”

Vernon and Seungkwan are singing Crazy in Love. Or, Seungkwan is singing and Vernon is head banging to the beat. Just watching makes your neck hurt.

Someone bumps into you from behind, sending you reeling straight into Seokmin’s chest.

“Woah, you okay?”

You nod into his chest but don’t let go. 

The shots earlier were a mistake. Seokmin looks good under the neon lights of the bar, better with the swirly haze of alcohol. You want to kiss him so bad it’s embarrassing.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks, voice husky.

When you look up at him, something dances across his face. There and gone before you can figure out what it is. Home sounds like a great idea. Better to lock yourself in your apartment where your mind can run wild before you do something stupid – like drag Seokmin into a corner to make out – in front of all your new friends.

You step out of his grip. “I can get home on my own. You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m good to go. Promise.”

Not willing to brave a thirty minute walk home in the snow, Seokmin orders an Uber while you say goodbye.

Once outside, Seokmin wraps his arm back around you. Away from prying eyes, you let yourself indulge with the excuse of sharing body heat. Friends share body heat all the time. There is nothing wrong with a platonic penguin huddle.

Too soon, he pulls away as a car pulls up to the curb. “This is us.”

Seokmin makes conversation with the driver while you stare out the window as the city whips by. He’s just being nice, treating you the same way he would all his friends. Touching and almost kissing aside, Seokmin is your friend and you don’t want to jeopardize it with complications.

“YN?”

“Huh?’

“We’re home.”

You stumble through the cold, Seokmin hot on your heels through the lobby and into the elevator. It’s a fragile type of silence between you. 

“I’ll see you later?”

“Night,” Seokmin says.

“Goodnight, Seok,” you murmur back, pushing open your door.

“Fuck,” he curses. “I left my keys at Kwan’s.”

“Should we call them?”

You invite Seokmin into your apartment while he tries to get ahold of his friends. Shinx offers timid emotional support by curling up in his lap, purring loudly as scratches under her chin. Now you’re jealous of a cat. 

How dmbarrassing.

Calling proves futile. Seungkwan’s phone goes straight to voicemail and Vernon doesn’t answer either. He tries texting them with the same results.

“You can sleep on the couch,” you offer.

“Are you sure? I don’t wanna impose.”

“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re sitting in the hall all night,” you say. “Let me get you a blanket.”

In your room, you quickly change out of your bar clothes and into pajamas. It takes some time to dig out a pair of sweats and a tshirt that’ll fit Seokmin but you eventually find something for him. Snagging a pillow from your bed and an extra blanket from the linen closet. you head into the living room.

You force the clothes into his chest. “Here. Get changed and I’ll make your bed.”

A dark look glazes his face and for a second you think he might kiss you. Or you hope he’s thinking about it half as much as you are. But the moment passes. He locks himself in your room while you busy making the lumpy, itchy couch somewhat comfortable for him. 

“Wanna watch a movie?”

You settle on Krampus. Neither of you have seen it but even after tonight you doubt you’d be able to recall a single detail. Seokmin pulls your legs over his lap like second nature, covering you both in the blanket, his hands resting on your shin. Choosing shorts over pants was a mistake. The heat of his thigh against the back of yours makes you squirm. The calluses on his palms scratch an itch leading straight between your legs as he rubs up and down absentmindedly, never trailing higher than your knee.

You’re shaking. His hand squeezes and you nearly heave.

“Cold?” 

No.

But you nod anyway. 

Seokmin pulls another blanket off the back of the couch, carefully layering it over the first, tucking you in tight before putting his arms back over your legs.

“You know, you’re a really good guy, Seok.”

“Thanks.”

It’s shameful. How bad you want to kiss him, for him to kiss you. 

“I mean it.”

“I don’t know if it's true though.”

Instead of asking what he means, you lean closer. Then Seokmin does too. You’re too busy staring at his mouth to notice him doing the same. All your thoughts hone in on if he was as good a kisser as you imagined. And if you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? If you touched him, would he touch you too?

Someone moves first. It doesn’t matter who because his nose nudges against yours, then you're swallowing his sigh, and you both practically melt at the relief. 

It’s better than anything you could have cooked up in your head. His lips are soft, the rough pads of his fingers gentle as he tips your chin. You like it. You like him. 

Your lips catch on his bottom lip by accident but it's the first domino to topple into a chain reaction. Seokmin’s lips part, your hands bury in his hair. His thumb hones in on the strip of skin between your top and your shorts. You maneuver into his lap, fingers cataloguing the expanse of his shoulders, his neck. Back into his hair. Close as you are, it isn’t close enough. You arch into him, dragging your lips across the line of his throat when his head falls back.

His hands are everywhere. The small of your waist, the base of your spine, lifting your shirt until it’s tossed to the floor and your topless in his lap, shaking with anticipation.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. His eyes lock on your nipples, tight from just a few light touches.

Seokmin pulls you back down, kissing you slow and heavy while his hands touch you with gentle reverence. 

Clothes come off. The borrowed sweater he’s wearing reveals so much skin you don’t know where to start. But Seokmin doesn’t let you linger too long because he’s taking off your bottoms until you’re completely naked. Seokmin eases his body over yours, heavy between your thighs. 

A particularly harsh pass of his hips pulls a wire down your spine, back arching painfully, moaning at the ceiling. 

“Ha,” you waver under his teeth, his tongue worshiping your chest, leaving broad strokes you imagine will feel amazing on other parts of your body. Head tipped back, you display yourself openly for him to touch and tease.

“Take your pants off,” you beg.

“I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s okay,” he says, mouthing against the sensitive spot below your jaw. His smile is clear. “We don’t have to do anything.”

You make a sound between a whine and a grunt. You want to have sex with him. Right here, on your shitty couch. But you aren’t willing to take the risk, no matter how badly you want it. Even if he does have a weird dick which you doubt based on the feeling of it against your naked cunt.

“You think my dick is weird?” he asks, half shocked and half amused.

“No! I—” you scramble. “I don’t think your dick is weird.”

“But you’ve thought about my dick?”

“I’m not supposed to.”

Seokmin grins, clearly amused. “Why not?”

“Because you’re my neighbor.”

“Oh.” He rushes to rise off you, kneeling between your spread legs. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“I do want to. That's the problem,” you whine.

He hums in acknowledgment, body shaking with barely suppressed giggles. 

You thrash. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not, I've just…never had someone be so eager.”

He kisses you like he’s the eager one, tongue tracing your bottom lip until you welcome him in with a lewd suck. It only lasts for a second before he’s back down your chest and then kneeling in front of the couch, nuzzling the meat of your thigh while his fingers stroke against your wetness timidly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yep!” you choke. “Great.”

Your legs verge on numbness from being bent in half for so long but Seokmin keeps finding those spots that make it worth it. You need something to hold onto; his hair, the cushions, your own breasts. Seokmin seems to love that the most. Grunting into your pussy as he watches with reverence as you play with yourself.

“Taste so good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot.”

Fingers thrusting, Seokmin strings you out. When he crooks the digits buried deep inside you, your back breaks in half. The hand pinning your waist down holds tights, the lean muscles flexing in your view. 

“J-just like that,” you hiccup. 

He never falters. Seokmin does exactly as you ask until you curl and come wet and hot on his face with a cry. It’s not until you push him off that he stops completely, rubbing the mess of his fingers on his pants and crowding you back into the couch cushion to taste yourself off his tongue. 

You moan against his mouth. “Wanna taste you.”

“I’m good.”

“I want to,” you beg.

“No like—”

You paw at his crotch only for the enticing hardness to be absent. He’s soft. Confusion furrows your brows for a brief second until the rosy tint to his cheeks registers. 

Seokmin hides in the crook of your neck, sigh ruffling your hair as he gets cozy in the warm space and allows his nose to trace the curve of your shoulder. “It usually doesn’t happen like that. I don’t—”

“That's so hot,” you mumble. The heat of his body combined with an orgasm and the last bit of your blood lulls you closer to sleep with every second.  

Seokmin tugs your shirt back over your head before pulling you close, his bare chest against your back, legs tangled beneath a quilt. Pure content tickles across your senses, followed by the warm drag of sleep.

Seokmin is gone by the time you wake up.

Shuffling from the couch into the bedroom, you accept he probably left early to get his keys from Seungkwan and didn’t want to wake you. Your head pounds in time with your pulse, stomach turning at the thought of getting off the couch. Thank God he didn’t try to wake you. There’s nothing less attractive than wanting to lay on the floor and wait for the sweet release of death.

The second time you wake up is to the sound of Shinx shredding a scrap of paper at the foot of your bed.

“You bastard,” you groan.

A set of large eyes stares back at you for a moment, before she meows and gets back to work on her kill. You nudge her off the edge of the bed with your foot. She bolts for the living room while you hide back into the pillows until it’s dark outside once again.

When you start feeling human enough to shower and eat, you check your phone. A text from Lydia and a few other notifications greet you but none from Seokmin. Not a call, or a text, or anything. Complete radio silence.

You hear him come home, the shuffle of his feet down the hallway and the slam of his front door. But there's no singing; not even so much as a hum. No knocking on the shared wall. You can’t hear a single thing from his side even when – embarrassingly – you press your ear against the wall like an eavesdropper. 

It’s like that for days.

Seokmin leaves his apartment after you get home. Or when you come back from work you hear him rush to turn down his music like he wants you to believe he’s out. He’s avoiding you. And you don’t know why.

You’ve thought about trying to catch him in the act; waiting by the door and popping out to ask him what his problem is. But you’re not sure if you want the answer to that question. He probably regrets kissing you. He definitely regrets kissing you if he's acting like this. But you don’t want to rush to conclusions either. The show opens Friday night and being director requires all hands on deck. Seokmin probably doesn’t even have time to brush his teeth let alone think about whatever it is between you too. Add the fact the actor for Scrooge broke his leg just before the auction and the only person comfortable enough with the role is also directing, he’s under a lot of pressure.

But none of the reassuring thoughts get you to leave the house the night of the show.

It wasn’t as if you had to be there. You helped fundraise but you weren’t cast or crew so your attendance was optional, even if there were two tickets waiting for you at willcall. Missed calls and texts rack up on your phone screen. Lydia, Seungkwan, Chan… But none from Seokmin. You should have turned your phone off to avoid the fall out from ditching. 

Instead, you accidentally pick up Lydia’s call. 

“Where are you?” Lydia screeches through the speaker. “The show's about to start.”

“I’m…I’m sick.”

You even fake cough but Lydia doesn’t buy it for a second.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Get your ass down here or I swear to god I’ll drag you by your hair.”

“Why would I go? He hasn’t talked to me all week?”

“So? Who cares!” she huffs, “You worked really hard to make sure this all got done. They wouldn’t have costumes or a set without everything you did. Forget Seokmin, come see it for yourself.”

“I—”

“Listen. Whatever happened between you two happened. But don’t let that chase you away from this. We can plot revenge tomorrow but tonight you should celebrate how hard you worked to make this happen.”

“Alright.”

You race to dress somewhat appropriately. Sweater, leggings, and a nice coat are all you can manage if you want to make it before intermission ends. It’s a miracle you’re not pulled over for speeding or running through yellow lights at the last minute but you get downtown in record time.

The street outside the theater is quiet, fog rising from the damp pavement. Through the glass doors into the theater, people mill about. You missed the first half of the show but there’s still time.

Lydia waits on the steps, exhaling a foggy breath when she finds you.  “Thank god.”

“How's it so far?”

“Good. I can’t believe I’ve never come to one of these before.” She types furiously on her phone before locking it and tossing it back into her purse. “The costumes look so good.”

The theater is packed to the brim, the lobby practically bursting at the seams as people chat through intermission. The costumes look better than good and so do the sets. Seokmin plays a more than convincing Scrooge, even better than the ones you’ve seen in the million movie versions of the play you’ve watched together. There’s no way he can see you with the bright stage lights but more than once it feels like he’s staring right where you sit, looking for someone. Looking for you.

Your eyes remain glued to the stage, unable to blink just in case you miss a second. It's dizzying watching him perform, as if you're staring up at the sky for too long and starting to feel unmoored; like you can't look away, can't accept that something so captivating exists.

After another hour, the lights go up, the cast take their bows. Without warning, you’re blinking into a harsh spotlight.

“Stand up,” Lydia whispers, prodding your side.

“What the hell is going on?”

“This production wouldn’t have been possible without Y/N. We’re so thankful for someone like her.”

You smile awkwardly and wait for the clapping to die down as the spotlight moves back to the stage. The second it's over, you’re up the aisle and into the lobby.

Straight into Seungkwan, who is subtly guarding the door like he knew you’d run at the first chance.

“You’re coming to the after party, right?” he asks.

Other people start filtering in from the auditorium. Maybe, you can lose him in the chaos and go home. 

“Of course she is,” Lydia interjects. Her arm weaves through yours, a firm threat that she’ll drag you if she has to.

The after party is for cast and crew of legal drinking age at Jane’s. Lydia and Seungkwan ride with you, another silent threat looming in the air.  They chat the entire way, undeterred by your silence. It's nice having friends that care but all you want is to hide under a blanket on your couch and spend the rest of the night crying while Shinx watches you with unveiled disgust.

Outside the bar, you promise one drink, claiming that you really are sick and want to go home. Which might be true. You’re off kilter, head spinning, stomach twisted into untangleable knots. But that might be because you can hear Seokmin’s laugh as you enter and your muscles twitch to dive beneath a table until he leaves.

You manage to find a stool in the corner. Even in an attempt to remain unseen more than half the bar stops by to thank you; crew members you haven’t met or cast you’ve seen in passing. Lydia stays by your side throughout, a steady presence as you lose yourself in the party. You can almost forget who is floating around the outskirts of the bar like a ghost. 

“Vernon sent me to ask if you want to play pool,” Seungkwan says to Lydia.

She sends you a sideways glance. Not asking for permission but like you’re a kid she can’t leave alone.

“Go,” you say, brushing her away. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t leave without telling me.”

“I’m leaving right now,” you tell her.

“Fine,” she sighs. Then she pulls you into a hug. Lydia isn’t a hugger, in the years you’ve known her you can count on your fingers the number of times it’s happened. “But you should clear the air before you go.”

“I live next to him. There are plenty of opportunities.”

She gives you an extra squeeze, fully aware you’ll continue pretending he doesn’t exist until everything smooths over and you and Seokmin are back to neighbors who tolerate each other's existence in fragile silence.

Which would work if the second you turn around to leave you don’t run straight into him.

He rubs the side of his head. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say. “Can we talk?”

He nods before turning to leave the bar, not waiting to see if you follow but you do. 

The party inside the bar echoes out onto the snowy street. It seems no one else is crazy enough to have an overdue conversation in a snowstorm, but better here than anywhere else. At least after Seokmin lets you down, you can run back to your apartment and pretend he doesn’t exist anymore.

Seokmin stands a few paces away, barely illuminated in neon signs and string lights strewn across the street. You aren’t drunk, not even tipsy. Alcohol would make this conversation worse but it’d take the edge off your nerves and dull a little bit of the cold.

You shove both hands in your pockets, unsure what to say now that you have him all alone.

“The play was good.”

“Thanks. Next time you’ll have to see the first act.”

It comes out like a joke but you can feel the vitriol like a bucket of ice water. Ouch.

“I—”

“If you’re not over your ex it’s okay,” he winces. “We can stay friends.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Sam. You still have feelings for him. It’s fine if you do, I get it. I’m not mad or anything I just thought…”

“I am over Sam.”

“Well, congrats on getting over him I guess,” Seokmin shrugs but his grin is forced. “Is that all you wanted to talk about?”

“Are you serious?” you scoff, venom stinging the tip of your tongue. 

His face glazes with annoyance. “What else is there?”

“Why did you leave?”

“I had work.”

You want to smack to frown off his face. 

“But you didn’t text me or leave a note. I woke up and you were gone and then didn’t hear anything from you.”

“I did leave a note. You iced me out,” he argues.

“Where? Because from where I’m standing you left as soon as you could and then ignored me like it never happened.”

“My phone died so I left a note on the counter. And you never texted me or anything so I thought you were trying to let me down easy.”

He left you a note. The shredded paper on your bed…

“Oh my god,” you gasp, ire evaporating. “Shinx.”

“Your cat?”

Laughter bubbles out of your throat, so thick you choke on your next words. “I think she ate your note.”

The realization hangs in the air, Seokmin froze as your words sink in. He stares at you for a moment, still recovering from the absurdity of it all, before he finally exhales a long breath.

“I thought she liked me,” he whines, face lit up with the beginning of a smile. 

“Shinx is loyal to no one.”

His body meets yours, like cards precariously leaned against one another to prevent a topple as you both shake with laughter. The cold of the street disappears in the warmth of his touch. 

“You’re not that kind of guy. I know that. I shouldn’t have—”

“I could’ve texted you after I went to Kwan’s,” he interjects. 

“I could’ve called you.”

Seokmin’s gaze roams across your face. “How about we start over?”

“I’d like that,” you smile, closing the scant amount of space left between your bodies. 

“Me too.”

Your lips brush against his, the faintest contact sending a storm of butterflies through your stomach. You’re both smiling too much for it to count as a real kiss but neither of you seem to care. His hand slips around the back of your neck, holding you closer just for a moment longer.

Seokmin convinces you to stay at the bar for a few more hours. He holds your hand, keeps you under his arm, looks at you after each joke to make sure you’re laughing too. Seokmin is nothing like Sam. You’ve known that all along but the fear lingered and you refused to acknowledge it. He’s someone you actually could fall for if you let yourself. 

He might hurt you but the potential for something great outweighs the bad in spades.

As the night drags on, you end up closer; sitting on his laps, his hands protectively wrapped around your waist. His chin hooks over your shoulder and you lean back against him. The slow burn between you roars to a boil when you trace mindless shapes against his palm, Seokmin’s breath shaky in his chest.

“Ready to go home?” he whispers huskily. His breath rushes down your neck, goosebumps bloom in its wake. 

You shift closer – the seam of your jeans only further worsening your arousal – and nod.

Once outside, you’re tangled in each other once again, limbs indecipherable. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Seokmin orders an Uber and immediately focuses back on you the second he can. You catch a text on his screen before he can lock his phone. Seokmin holds you the same as before but it’s different this time. You’re both waiting for the damn to break and the flood to wash away whatever tension lingers between you. 

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: do not fuck this up

[10:56PM] Mr. Boo: lydia said she would kill you and i think she’s serious

The cab ride home is a blur. You’re focused on not scandalizing the drive while Seokmin keeps a hand firmly on your knee, perfectly proper if it wasn’t for the grit in his jaw when you return the touch just high enough for your pinky to graze his zipper. 

The second the car stops, you throw the door open and pull Seokmin out and inside the lobby, straight to the elevator where he grabs your waist and uses the leverage to kiss you with so much heat you sweat.

He tries pressing you into the wall but you beat him to the punch, crowding him into the corner, front flush with him from head to toe. Seokmin groans, pushing back as you grind over his thigh. One of you pushes the button to your floor.

When the doors open, he gains the upper hand. Tugging you down the hall, he bypasses your door and goes straight for his own. He fumbles with the keys from the way you suck at his pulse but after a few tries he succeeds, pulling you inside and pressing you into the wall of the hallway.

“I like you,” he admits, rushing to unzip your coat and stuff his freezing hands inside, curling them against your waist. “This isn’t just sex.”

You nod dumbly. “I know. I like you, too.”

“And we should – hmmm – go on a date sometime.”

“Okay,” you rasp. 

His thigh slots back between yours. All those memories of his mouth and fingers rush to the forefront, teasing you with the fantasy of Seokmin on his knees right here, eating you out next to his front door. 

He presses hard against your core, fingers tracing the seam of your pants. Your hands reach beneath his shirt; pulling, squeezing. Nails digging into his tense stomach with each bump against your covered clit.

“Seokmin,” you whimper.

You're pulled off the wall. A trail of clothing is left in your wake to his room. Hats, coats, sweaters, undershirts. Seokmin manages to keep his pants on but allows you to unbutton them for a weak handjob over his briefs.

“God,” he exhales close to your ear.

In all the nights you two have hung out you’ve never been in his room. You try to take in as many details as possible but Seokmin dedicates himself to driving you insane with his lips on your neck, gently nipping and sucking until you shiver.

If you had any foresight this was going to happen then you would have at least picked matching underwear. But he seems thrilled as he crowds you into the bed. 

His mouth replaces his hand, lapping at your nipple, completely disregarding the fabric of your bra, before sucking it into his mouth. The hand that was on your chest dips beneath your panties. Fingertips circle your clit, gliding through the wet mess, dipping shallowly inside you.

Your hips rut into the touch. You want more. Need more. And you know Seokmin can give you what you need.

You guide his mouth to your neglected nipple, pushing the cup out of the way and arching as he gives it the same attention. “Please.”

“I got you,” he promises.

Seokmin melts down between your legs, kneeling at the side of the bed; one on his shoulder, the other pressed up your chest. Your hands bury in his hair as he licks a long strip up your core. Each pathetic sound fleeing your lips is rewarded with a deeper curl of his fingers, a harsher lap of his tongue. He leaves wet kisses on your thighs, spreading the mess of arousal and spit before diving back.

You squeeze tight on his fingers. “O-oh, oh fuck.”

Your hips stutter into his mouth. It washes over you, muscles clenched so hard it hurts. The way your heels dig into his back must hurt too but you don’t care. Neither does Seokmin. He doesn’t stop as you claw at him, following that inferno scorching through every tissue, begging him to keep going until you wilt into the sheets.

The ceiling comes slowly into focus, dots floating across your vision. You’re sweating despite the chill hanging in the air. Thankfully, Seokmin blankets you in his heat as he kisses across your hips, then your sternum, then buries his face into your neck. Your shivers have nothing to do with the cold.

“Wow,” you pant. 

Seokmin’s face cracks into a tired grin. Fatigue ghosts over the room but you're not done yet. The weight of his cock between your legs demands attention, and you’re all too eager to touch him.

He doesn’t object when you push him onto his back, or to the trail of soft kisses down his front, allowing you to mark up the smooth expanse of his chest and belly how you see fit. You savor the warmth of his body with each touch. Allow your fingers to gently wash away each press of your lips and warm him up for what's to come.

You suck the head of his cock through the fabric, teasing him with your tongue until the taste of pre-cum floods your mouth. 

He sinks into the bed. A hand finds its way into your hair, unsure if he wants to pull you off or sink deeper into the heat of your mouth, even if it is just a tease. You tug his underwear out of the way and continue torturing him. Thrilled by the way his stomach tense with each desperate whine from the way your tongue traces every ridge.

He gently guides you back and forth, taking the strain off your neck as you take more and more before he pulls you off. “Wait, shit.”

“What–”

“I was gonna come,” Seokmin explains, pulling you up his chest to drop placating kisses against your chin.

“That’s okay,” you smile. “I want you to.”

“But I want to fuck you.”

“Next time?”

“Fuck yes, next time,” he pants as he rolls you on to your back.

He keeps his mouth on yours, tongue sliding hotly against your own while blindly searching for a condom in the bedside table. 

Your hips angle and so do his, a little wiggle and then he’s inside you and it ruins your life. Just the first inch seals your eyes shut, vision filled with stars. You can feel everything; full in a way you’ve never felt before.

Seokmin draws back timidly, allowing you both to watch the way your body takes him so easily.

Somehow he manages to rock deeper, stretch you at just the right angle. Surges right into that spot that curls your chest tight with rough fluidity. The muscles in your thighs are at war with whether to spread wider or squeeze around his waist.

“I wanna ride you.”

There are so many things you want to do with him. To him. But you start with this, taking command of his lap, sinking back on his dick with another tight stretch; glowing as Seokmin watches slack-jawed.

“God, you’re perfect,” he praises.

You fuck yourself on him, knees digging into the mattress as you grind back and forth and all Seokmin can do is watch. A loose grip on your hips as his face glazes over. Your thighs cramp but the way he looks against the pillows, hazy around the edges, hair flat at one side and wild on the other, encourages you to finish what you started.

“Touch me,” you beg.

His neck goes red, ears too, when his hand wedges back between your thighs. “Wanna see you come again. Fuck, you’re so pretty when you come for me.”

Your hips cant wildly, stuttering under his free flowing praise. Too full, too much. You nearly scramble off his lap to snatch at your sanity drifting away.

He kisses you gently, sweet praise ghosting over your lips. “That’s it. Just like that.”

You’re not even moving. Seokmin works your clit raw, fucks up into you with limited motion as you choke on another orgasm that leaves you wet at the eyes and the room spinning. 

“U-ugh. Fuck,” you shiver, collapsing into his chest.

“Can,” he chokes. “Can I—”

An imperceivable dip of your chin and Seokmin rolls you back over and flattens your thighs open; hard rushes of his hips, stomach taunt.

“Come for me. Want you to come inside me,” you sigh. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he chants as he shakes beneath your hands before slumping over.

You rebound faster than Seokmin; he’s almost snoring against your chest as you rake a hand through the tangled mess of his hair, melting under the weight on your lips against his hairline.

“You’re pretty when you come, too,” you tease. 

He swats your hand away, rising off you to dispose of the condom in the bathroom before rushing back into bed to clean you with a washcloth. When he’s done, he throws it into some forgotten corner of the room where the rest of your clothes hide and dives under the covers with you in tow. 

Your limbs lace with his, all nude skin on skin. 

“I would like to take you out for real sometime,” Seokmin whispers.

“Good thing I have a four hundred dollar date to cash in on.”

“You know,” he smiles into your cheek. “You could have asked me for free.”

“Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

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[angelic-writer]

"Good. Now where were we..."

The gang continued talking until a knock was heard on Mavis’ door. Turning around, he saw his father standing there.

“Hey, it’s almost 9. Time to shut everything down.”

“Alright, I gotta go. Talk to you guys tomorrow.”

Carter and Tyler both waved goodbye. Gavin, however, started to protest. “Aw, come on! Really? Why can’t we be on call just a little longer?”

“Sorry, Gavin. But those are the rules.” Tyler said, ending their usual argument with hanging up. With the call ending, Mavis, after making sure everything was saved on his computer, proceeded to shut everything down. Laptop, phone - He even checked with his dad to make sure the TV’s unplugged. With that done, the house fell silent. Mavis laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the day he had today.

Just this morning, he was wishing that he would have more than four people to talk to. And just like that, there the Flammia kids were, ready to learn the rules of their new life here. It’s like God has answered his prayers.

“Thank you, God.” He said towards the ceiling. “Thank you for giving me new friends.”

After a while, it was time for bed. Mavis knelt by his bedside for his nighttime prayer.

“Now I lay me down to sleep. The Lord I pray my soul to keep. Watch and guard me through the night, and wake me with your morning light. And if I die before I wake, the Lord I pray my soul to take.”

When the police pulled up to Tim’s house, it was silent. Like nobody had been in there for an eternity. Police Lieutenant Abel Adams got out of the car and walked to the door, his partner and brother, Cain in tow. He couldn’t help but notice that something felt wrong about this place. He knocked on the door. “Hello? Police. We're here on behalf of Ms. Lonnie."

Nothing. Cain glanced at the driveway. “That’s weird... I don’t see any cars.” He said.

"Shit..." Abel banged on the door. “Anyone there? Open up!” When nobody answered, he nodded to the officers on standby, signalling them to go for it. With a bit of work, they forced their way in. Looking around, everything was untouched. A thin layer of dust was coating the kitchen counters and table. One of the officers noticed that the TV was on, displaying static. He felt a bit of annoyance at someone not following the rules, although when he checked, he noticed that it was unplugged.

That’s weird. Why is the TV still on? Is it broken? Did the family not pay their bills on time?

“Merryn? You alright?” His partner asked him.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.” He replied, running his hand through his hair to try and smooth the frayed ends. They both stared at the TV, the display of static never ending.

“Do you think we should tell the chief about this?” His partner asked.

“I don’t know. From what it looks like, it seems like the family didn’t pay their bill. But look.” Merryn pointed to the unplugged jack. “If it’s unplugged, why is it still on?”

Abel and Cain have went up the stairs and down the hallway, checking the rooms to make sure Tim is inside. A deep feeling of unsettlement was starting to form in his stomach. He hoped to God that it isn’t what he thought it is. That maybe it was a case of a kid being sick and the parents forgetting to call in. Unfortunately, it seemed like reality was all too happy to kick him in the teeth as Cain called out from the other room. “Hey Abel! You may wanna see this...” The unsettled feeling immediately turned to dread. He couldn’t unhear the slight waver in hie voice. He went into the room his brother was in and he was dismayed at the sight before them.

There he was. Tim Matthews was lying on his bed, bleeding from long, vertical cuts on his arms. From how deep the cuts were and the amount of blood he lost, Abel surmised that he must’ve bled out within a few minutes. His skin had already turned ghost white and his eyes were staring up at the ceiling, unblinking. There was no hope of any medical intervention for him.

He had hoped he hadn't been too late. That by some miracle, he was still alive, but only barely. He would be able to swoop in and save Tim's life. But sadly, life does not work like that. When you die, that's it. You're never coming back from it. You will be nothing more than a lifeless body, leaving behind your family and friends to grieve.

Abel stared at the kid, feeling like the world had stopped around him. What is he gonna tell his parents? What is he gonna tell Ms. Lonnie?

“Abel? You alright?” Cain asked, putting his hand on his shoulder. Abel nodded and, without breaking eye contact from the boy’s empty eyes, spoke into the radio. “Guys, we found him. We got a 10-56.”

Project Mimicry (Vol 1) - Chapter 1

"In the beginning, God created the heaven and the Earth." - Genesis 1:1

1983

"This is a test. This station is conducting a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System. This is only a test."

A long, screeching noise blared from the old TV. The Markson family had a different program on when they announced the test. It was some cowboy show their dad loved so much. For eleven year old Jade, it made her stomach churn. It was an odd sound, different from the sounds of horses and gunfire that came from the living room while they were doing family worship. It made her want to jump into her mother's arms and pray to Jehovah for the noise to stop.

Her mom, dad and brother were silent as the attention signal droned on. After a minute, it stopped.

"This is a test of the emergency broadcasting system. The broadcasters of your area in voluntary cooperation with federal, state and local authorities have developed this system to keep you informed in the event of an emergency. If this had been an actual emergency, the attention signal you have just heard would have been filed by official information, news or instructions. This station serves the northern Alabama area. This concludes this test of the emergency broadcast system."

Jade fiddled with the pages of her book, trying to think of the right words to say. Her brother, Caleb had resumed work on his drawing, seeming to not care about anything. Her mother let out a small sigh. "I swear, can they not scare the kids like that?"

"Mom..." Jade quietly said. "Why do they send out something like this? What if it hadn't been a test? Are... Are we gonna die?"

Opal got up from her chair and pulled her into her arms. "Oh sweetie, we're not gonna die. Everything's gonna be okay. This whole thing will blow over in no time."

"Well Jade," Opal's husband, Simon, chimed in. "They played the test on our TV because they want to inform us on what's happening. The world is at a very turbulent time at the moment so they are doing their best to keep us informed. If we were actually under attack, we would've been hiding in the basement." He let out a small chuckle.

"Well, what can we do to make it better?" Jade asked.

"Pray to Jehovah, of course. Our safety is his priority and if we pray to him, he'll protect us."

Jade smiled and snuggled into her mother. Jehovah is the only thing she knew. She may not be like the other "worldly" kids, but she didn't need all those material goods. She didn't need to see the latest movie or buy the newest toys. As long as she had her family and Jehovah, she can get through anything.

Caleb let out a soft coo.

"Oh, we didn't forget about you!" Simon lifted him out of his baby chair and gently rocked him. The whole family began to giggle.

This was their life. This was their routine. Jade was determined to be a good older sister to Caleb. And soon, he will be baptized.

-------

December 24th, 1983

"This is an important message from the Crestwood police department. This is not a test. I repeat, this is not a test. The Crestwood police department has issued a Shelter-in-place Warning for the county of Crestwood until further notice. Reports of unknown figures have been confirmed by law enforcement and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. For your safety, until 5 PM to 6 AM, stay home, lock all doors and windows and, in the event of a break-in, have access to a loaded weapon at all times. Do not call 911 unless you need to report an emergency. The Crestwood police department and the Department of Babylonian Crusaders thanks you for your cooperation.

Stay tuned for a message from the representative of the Department of Babylonian Crusaders."

"Hello. My name is Dr. Lloyd Evans from the Department of Babylonian Crusaders. We have been receiving reports of unknown organisms that we've decided to call mimics. You may have already gotten the alert from the EBS about this phenomenon, but we're here to tell you about what those mimic types are and what you can do to protect yourself.

The first type are the defensive mimics. They are a sub group of mimics that take on the role of a protector when they find a human. Some pose as aggressive mimics to ward off other humans or they deceive humans they perceive as harmful with their harmless look and kill them. Think of it as a predator camouflaging itself in order for them to eat their prey.

There are three types of defensive mimics. There are Batesian, Mullerian and Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics.

Batesian mimics are harmless. They pose as a harmful mimic to ward off anyone they tries to hurt them or their human.

Mullerian mimics are two or more mimics that advertise themselves as harmful to ward off predators. These mimics often work in groups of two or three.

Emsleyan or Mertensian mimics take the form of a less harmful mimic to deceive the predator and kill them.

These ones can be considered safe, but you should still be wary of them. Aggressive mimics are the ones you need to watch out for. Now, aggressive mimics are the type of mimic that pose as humans to kill them. These types use mind games to toy with their victims. If they haven't committed suicide, the mimic will finish the job.

Predators are a mimic group where they take the form of a loved one, deceive them into thinking they are the real person and then use psychological manipulation. Those are the most dangerous types of mimics and we strongly advise to avoid them at all costs.

Parasites are [REDACTED DUE TO SIGNAL GLITCH]

Now, here's what you can do to keep yourself safe. Stay in your homes after 6 PM, lock all windows and doors and keep a loaded weapon with you at all times. In the event of a mimic attack, follow the S.A.F.E. principle.

S - Secure yourself in a room.

A - Access the situation. Learn how the mimic operates.

F - Fire your weapon. If the mimic attacks, do not hesitate. It can mean life or death.

E - If possible, escape. Do not let them win.

We hope this message keeps you safe. We're very sorry for the interruption and we hope you have a Merry Christmas!"

Though this message was broadcasted to most TVs, some of them reported the S part saying something different. According to reports, it said "Surrender yourself to the Lord."

--------

1987

The young man's back was pressed up against the wall. The shotgun he had in his hands had one shell left. The creature that was at his door kept calling out to him in a mockery of his wife's voice.

"Ralphie... Please let me in... I'm sorry for sca-a-a-aring you back there. You know how I am."

His grip tightened. That wasn't her. That wasn't his wife. She was dead. And now, he was going to die too. His eyes started to fill with tears.

Marla... I'm so sorry... I couldn't protect you... I couldn't save you from these things.

The image of his wife sprawled out on the kitchen floor flashed in his mind. Her neck that was gushing blood... He swallowed, trying to hold back his vomit. They had followed the rules. They had done everything the broadcast said. What did they do wrong? They had to have done something wrong for something like this to happen.

He gritted his teeth. Pondering over this won't help him now. Remember the S.A.F.E. principle, Ralph. Remember.

He secured himself in his bedroom, grabbing his shotgun so he could protect himself. He analyzed the situation. The creature, the mimic, was trying to use his wife's voice to lure him out, using his nickname. Ralphie was what she would call him when he came home from work. The way she said it made his heart soar. However, when it said his nickname, it felt like nails on a chalkboard.

The high school sweethearts had moved into the rural Alabama town after they had gotten married in New York. They thought getting away from the bustling city life would help them. They were in the talks of starting a family when the broadcast came on, talking about reports of mimics.

"Talk about bad timing. On Christmas too." Marla had said while bringing out the cookies and milk. "Let's hope Santa gets there okay."

"I hope so too. But hey, look on the bright side. This lockdown will end at 6 AM tomorrow. We've still got time to celebrate, right?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Besides, anything's fun with you." She gave him a light peck on the cheek.

A low sob escaped him. There was so much they wanted to do together. So many things they had planned. Their entire life... They were now gone.

Oh Marla... Why did they have to take you? What did we do?

God, please... Please help me.

He wiped his face. No, crying and pleading to some higher being isn't gonna solve anything. I have to survive. I have to live on for Marla! If I can get out of here, I could alert the police.

With a sense of courage taking over, he pointed his shotgun at the door. The mimic had begun to claw at the door, no doubt leaving scratch marks in the wood. "Ralphie... Please... Let me in. It's so cold. My neck hurts. Help..."

"Shut up... You're not her..."

The doorknob rattled.

"You're not her. You're not her! You're not her!!"

There was a sudden loud banging making him jump. "Ralph, open the goddamn door! You'd really leave me out here with these things?! How could you?!" The thing screeched.

"You're! Not! Her! Leave me alone!! You killed her, you monster!! You're not- You're not her!" He screamed, tears streaming down his face. "Just try and get me! I dare you! I'll fucking shoot you if you try anything!"

"Ralph..." His 'wife' had begun to cry. Normally, it would cause him to go over and hug her, but he will not be swayed. What it was doing, it was disgusting. It's desecrating his wife's memory, his image, his everything. The nerve of the creature...

The door flew open, allowing Ralph to see the monster. Though it was hard to see through the darkness, what he could see made him freeze.

Its form was tall and lanky, its arms and legs stretched out to an almost inhuman degree. What little hair it had on its head was beginning to fall off. Its skin was beginning to sag. Ralph could swear he was beginning to see bones. The mimic looked at him with empty eyes yet it pierced his soul with an intense glare. It opened its mouth to speak, but all that came out were rasps and gargles.

Ralph began to shake, his aim wavering as he stared at... He didn't even know what he was seeing. It was human, but at the same time, it was not. It looked like his wife, but it was like looking at a decomposing carcass. The smell... It smelled like rotten eggs left out on the hot sidewalk. Bile threatened to come up his throat, but he held it in.

One shot. He had to make it count. If it failed...

The creature began to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that made you cringe. It was an ear-piercing, gurgling laugh that was like if you tried to imitate a toy clown on its last legs.

Ralph pressed his finger on the trigger. Taking a deep breath, he screamed out.

"I will not let you kill me!!"

The gun went off.

--------

2017

The group of kids stared at the small house as their two older brothers talked to the movers. The smallest one of the bunch hugged her teddy bear. Though leaving their home state of Florida didn't seem like a huge deal at first, Catherine still had her doubts. Sure, they were free from all the hurricanes, but they still had friends there. They still had people they could talk to.

But now, she and her brothers moved to a new town. There was no one she knew there. And there was... an abundance of churches. Lots and lots of churches.

@chibisrpblog

[mrsmangi]

Hibiscus 🌺🌺🌺

late night call - luigi mangione

♡ flower prompt: hibiscus - the realization of a friendship becoming something more - meaning: in victorian times, the gift of a hibiscus bloom meant that the giver was acknowledging the receiver’s delicate beauty. ♡ w.c.: 1k ♡ a/n: hi, love! thank you so much for your request. srry for the delay, i'm a bit backed up with requests. she's a short one, but i hope you enjoy!

♡ send me a flower & i'll write a drabble based off the prompt ! ↪ prompts that have been requested

“Do you ever think people realize just how loud their ceiling fans are?” 

His voice comes through the phone, low and scratchy, like he’s been lying on his back for too long, staring at his own ceiling. You giggle softly, shifting against the pillow propped against your back. Your own fan spins above you, a rhythmic hum filling the space between his words and yours. 

“It’s white noise,” you say, quieter than usual. “After a while, you get used to it and stop hearing it.” 

“Mm, not tonight,” Luigi sighs. “It’s like the fan’s trying to keep me awake for as long as possible.”

You laugh again, a soft, breathy sound that feels just a bit too loud in the stillness of your room. It’s past midnight–long past the time you’d planned to be asleep–but this is how many of your nights with Luigi go. What starts with casual texts morphs into a phone call, then into hours of talking about nonsense; everything and nothing.

“Maybe it’s just your thoughts,” you tease. “What are the voices yelling at you about tonight?” 

He pauses on the other end of the line, just the faint sound of his breathing audible. You know Luigi well enough by now to know he’s not actively ignoring your question; he’s only deciding how much of himself to give away. 

“Life,” he answers lamely, though the vagueness of the reply altogether makes it clear there’s more to it than that. “Do you ever feel like no matter how much you do to succeed, it’s never enough?” 

You roll onto your side, pressing the phone closer to your ear. The dim glow of your bedside lamp casts uneven shadows against the wall. 

“All the time,” you reply honestly. “It gets exhausting, though. I feel like I’m just running a race no one even cares to watch.” 

He exhales, a sound that crackles through the receiver. When he speaks again, his voice carries the kind of understanding that comes from being seen. “Yeah. I get it.” 

The two of you fall into shared silence, the steady hum of your ceiling fan whispering across the line. You let yourself picture him for a moment–probably sprawled out on his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. His phone would be balanced in his other hand. The image feels familiar, like something you’ve seen a thousand times before, even though you haven’t. 

“Can I ask you something?” His voice breaks the quiet.

“Always.” 

He’s quiet again, but you don’t rush him.

“Do you think…” He pauses again, and you can hear the shift of his breathing. “Do you ever think it’s possible for something to change without either person realizing it? Like, to wake up one day and feel like everything’s changed, even though nothing is actually different?” 

“Maybe,” you say cautiously, voice softer now. “Sometimes things can change so slowly you don’t even notice until it’s already different. Then, you find yourself wondering how long it’s been that way.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That’s exactly what I mean.” 

You stare up at the spinning fan, asking him, “What’s different, Luigi?” 

He doesn’t answer right away. His continuous pauses make you grow somewhat uneasy, stretching a distance between you. “Us,” he says. “I think we’re different.” 

You exhale slowly. “Different how?” 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “But it’s like every time we talk, it feels different. More important, somehow, like there’s something there that wasn’t before.” He stops and you can nearly hear the way he’s turning the words over rin his head. “I used to just…enjoy talking to you, but now, it feels like I catch myself waiting for it. I’m counting down to the next time I’ll hear your voice. And when we’re not talking, I’m thinking about what I want to tell you the next time I see you, or wondering what you’re doing, or–” He breaks out into nervous laughter, cutting himself off. “Um, does any of that make sense or am I just rambling?” 

It makes perfect sense. Too much sense. Your heart picks up speed, the weight of his words pressing against the thoughts you’ve tried to push to the back of your mind. You notice it too. You’ve felt a change in the way you catch yourself thinking about him at odd moments–when a song reminds you of something he’s said, or when you replay the voice messages he sends just to hear his laugh on repeat. Tonight, he speaks heavier, like he’s cracked open a door you have both been staring at for weeks, maybe longer, unsure of who will turn the handle first. 

“It does,” you whisper. 

There’s a small, nearly imperceptible breath on his end, like he’s been holding it and didn’t even realize. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You chew on your bottom lip, letting the word sink in. “I didn’t know if I should say anything. I didn’t want to ruin what we have.” 

“Me neither,” he says, “but I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it. I do. All the time.” 

You close your eyes, the glow of the lamp behind your lids is a soft orange hue. “So, what now?” 

“I’m not sure,” he says. There’s no pretense, no cleverness to soften the edges of his words. “But maybe we can figure it out. Together.” He says his last word carefully, almost like it’s fragile–like it may break under the weight of its meaning if he doesn’t say it the right way. 

You hear him shift, the faint sound of fabric rustling through the receiver. It’s a small thing, but it makes the moment feel so real, tangible, like he’s not just a voice in the dark. You let his words settle over you. Luigi doesn’t have the answers to all your worries and neither do you. But, it feels comforting somehow–to know that he’s with you in this journey, and you with him. 

“Okay,” you say. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You know he can hear it, even if he can’t see it. Your heart is full of love for this boy as you exhale: “Together.”

[giddyfatherchris]

📝 skz reaction - you fall asleep on their laps

pairing. ot8!skz x gn!reader (individually)

type. fluff fluff fluffff

warnings. gender neutral reader, curse words (thats how i show my enthusiasm okay)

a/n. as someone who falls asleep anywhere and loves to sleep with people around me, i need to have a nap on each of them thank you.

a/n 2. yes the members order is reversed… thats just how inspiration struck and i couldn’t be bothered to change it SUE ME🫥

(pictures are not mine. credit to the owner!)

(divider credit!)

jeongin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would maybe be a lil annoyed at first thinking you're not moving because you want to annoy him. until he realizes that no no you're just extenuated and literally fell asleep on him which would suprise him sooo much. poor baby wouldn't know what to do with himself. he probably woudn't dare to move and would be tensed as all hell. although, slowly, he'd relax and grow into it. once he gets over his fear of waking you up he'd be so so smitten with you, cooing at how adorable you are, to the point where that actually woke you up

seungmin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would def be annoyed, going as far as trying to make you move away or scold you to go to bed. it's not that he doesn't like it, but he's uncomfortable and can’t understand why you’d want to cuddle him. once he asked why you didn't sleep somewhere else and you explained there was something about him that made you feel safe and at peace, that annoyance and awkwardness *poof* disappeared. he would let you sleep with your head comfortably laying on his lap while he practices a few songs and hums you to sleep aka best thing EVER. once you're fast asleep he would ask for someone to bring you a blanket and proceed to give a death stare to anyone who might make too much noise (euhm euhm binnie).

felix ⊹ ࣪ ˖ when you pouted and asked him to sleep on his lap he didn't even think before answering yes. being very comfortable with physical touch, our lil aussie boy would not mind at all. except he would not be prepared for how ADORABLE you look when you sleep. he would definitely take a thousand pictures of you (which he keeps in a special album in his phone). he would love to play in your hair or lightly massage your shoulders. and after that first time, whenever he sees you yawn a little too much he'd motion for you to lay on his lap. he is not ashamed to say one of his favorite thing to do is gaming while you're dozing off on his lap.

han ⊹ ࣪ ˖ first time it happened he was soooo scared to wake you up and wouldn't move at all. but that stopped very quick lmao, he would love when you fall asleep on him, even though he's not the best for it because he keeps moving and wiggling around. loves loves loves skinship, so he would constantly play with your hair, your clothes or poke your cheeks while you're trying to fall asleep. the only way to make this really work for both of you would be for him to watch his favorites animes while you're sleeping with your head on his shoulder.

hyunjin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he says he's not a fan of physical touch, but that does not apply to the ppl he's close with. including you. when you fall alseep on his lap he's an absolute cuddle master. he would put his sweater on you when you shiver and coo whenever you make a little grumbling noise. he'd love to draw little sketches of you while you're asleep or take pictures, which most likely wake you up and make you move away and makes him whine like a baby. he's honestly kind of annoying to fall asleep on, but whenever you'd move away he would for sure bring you back on his lap with a promise to stop bothering you this time.

changbin ⊹ ࣪ ˖ despite the fact that he has the attention span of a squirrel and that he's one loud motherfucker, whenever you fall alseep on his lap he turns into a statue. this man will not move or say a thing. he'd love how innocent and relaxed you look when you're sleeping and would be ready to annihilate anyone who may interupt that. the boys would definitely try to taunt him with food to get him to move but he'd categorically refuse to bother your peaceful naps. when they inevitably bring that fact to your attention he'd become all shy and he mumble about how it's not his fault you look so precious when you sleep.

minho ⊹ ࣪ ˖ mister minho would act annoyed for half a second before he pulls you closer and play mindlessly with strands of your hair. there is legit no space between the two of you and that's how he likes it okay >:( he would give dirty looks to the boys whenever they tried taunting him about how soft he is with you. most of the time he falls alseep too, his hands resting on your hips while the boys take pictures of the pair of you. when they show them to you guys afterwards he says nothing but has a small shy smile and you can bet your ass he will have one of those pictures as his background.

bangchan ⊹ ࣪ ˖ he would fucking love when you fall asleep on his lap. it's no secret channie is one caring little fucker and he loves to care for/protect the people he loves. the first time you would settle your head on his lap to relax he'd try to play it cool as if it was no big deal, but when he'd realize you actually fell asleep his heart would be seconds away from fricking exploding. you'd look so cute and cozy and keep wiggling to be closer to him. it would definitly make his lil soft heart flutter and he would make funny faces, incapable of containing the effect you have on him (which the boys love to make fun of him for). after the first time, he'd declare himself your official nap spot and it would not be negotiable or else he’d pout and whine until you finally come to him.

[koishua]

ㅤ      ㅤ   𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀yarenim evde (my darling is home).ㅤ ওㅤ

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀hwang hyunjin fluff fem reader .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀1.121k words no warnings enjoy .ㅤ ও

ㅤ        ㅤ       𓏲𓏲⠀⠀.. ⠀he comes home after gda2025! .ㅤ ও

Stepping into the confines of the familiar apartment’s front doors, he waits for the elevator to arrive from the topmost floor. The quiet bell alerts him to its arrival, ready to whisk him away to the place he calls home. The characteristic music assigned to elevators is absent. Small blessings, since his entire day had been about blaring speakers and blinding lights. Some quiet time was much needed to ease his desperate ear drums and nothing can stand between him and the soft touches of his favourite person alive (there are quite a few people he would commit near war crimes to meet, but we do not verge there).

When you open the door just as he is about to reach for his spare keys, the warmth of a home lived-in and loved greets him like an embrace, your arms pulling him in gently through the door and taking his coat before he reaches to undo his shoes. The world seems to tilt at its axis without warning and he has to rush to put a hand on the floor for balance, struck by an unforgiving moment of exhaustion now that he’s finally reached his safest space. 

“Woah,” you reach for the slumped over man by the shoe racks, soft hands gripping his assuredly, bringing him over to the sofa– thank God– closeby, “don’t worry. You aren’t dying, loverboy.”

Hyunjin chuckles at the teasing remark, content at finally catching the faint scent of your perfume clinging onto your clothes from earlier that morning. Lying down, he’s finally able to come back to his senses, making out a buzzing sound of what he assumes to be the coffee you loved to literal death. He has to fulfill his boyfriend duties and worry about your health, so he peeks over the back of the couch to reprimand, “You shouldn’t be drinking that at this time of the night.”

“Right, because you always listen to me when I tell you to rest. I’ll drink this, thank you.” You have to roll your eyes at his offended expression, though none taken. Offering him a mug of his favourite calming tea, you sit on the carpet by his side, coffee and tea resting on the small table until they cool down just enough to drink without scalding your tongues.

Hyunjin traces over the valleys of your face, flicking the bridge of your nose with a laugh from where he’s lying on his side, facing your direction like the sunflower to your sun. Your elbow rests on the cushion, supporting your cheek. The makeup his stylists had applied on him for their award show performance tonight looked impeccable, still, despite how worn his body felt. You admired the eyeshadow framing his brown eyes– so warm, so full of adoration, practically dripping with overflowing honey. 

“You did good,” your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, cupping his jaw, “I was watching you and my friends kept gushing about you.” Your beloved’s face gleams with mirthful eyes, amused by the fact that none of your friends knew who your long-time boyfriend seemed to be, still. You were always the first one to tease them for being such big fans, devilishly keeping the tiny little secret that their favourite member has been in love with you for years now and you couldn’t imagine a life without him henceforth. 

The day he’d facetimed you sporting his brand new hair, you’d shrieked, dropping your phone in the process. He’d grown worried, wondering if you’d hated it, but you simply demanded he come home as soon as he possibly could. Why, he’d questioned, not that he’d ever refuse, and when you dropped the “We’re going to have so much fun.” bomb on him, he’d left his belongings on the spot, damn near hopping and skipping his way over.

Now, he is sliding down the cushion to huddle into your side. Warm tea in his hand, an arm slung comfortably around his sun’s shoulder to bring her closer without a single worry of being taken over by your scorching heat. Welcoming the destruction as much as the creation of everything beautiful in this world (his world, because so long as he has you, Hwang Hyunjin is a King and the whole world is his– you are).

Your fingers absentmindedly play with the hand over your shoulder he has graced you with, sipping on your caffeine concoction. “Congratulations on your Bonsang. You guys deserve it so much with how hard you work and deliver. Tell the boys that I’m so happy for them, too.” 

Light reaches his eyes when his lips pull apart into a wide smile, still exhilarated by the prospect of having won. “Thank you, my boss lady.” He presses a chaste kiss on your temple, getting a waft of your shampoo he’s used on more than a handful of occasions, later on finding one of his own in the shower. Now, everything here seemed to be for two, hints of love scattered all around in every insignificant corner of the house. 

“Shut up,” you giggle at the name he’d designated for you a long while ago, “I should be called Lady Overlord at this point.”

There is a certain pitch he laughs at like a cute little chime and you’re lucky enough to hear it on the regular. “People think I’m talking about my CEO whenever I tell them that boss is calling. It’s pretty funny, to be honest.”

Finding moments of silence as comfortable as this is hard for someone constantly surrounded by loud friends and loud music so Hyunjin knows to cherish it until it eventually ends. For now, he succumbs to the ache in his bones and lays his head on your lap, spine finally decompressing all of the pressure it has withstood the whole award season preparation period, followed up by rigorous performances. Tingles run down until they reach his fingertips from the way you oh, so deliciously run your nails on his scalp, smoothing over his short hair, the texture so satisfying to play with that you can never seem to get enough of it.

You know the effect it has on him as he’s often fallen asleep to you playing with his hair, short and long. He still has to take off his stage makeup and shower off the sweat and debris, but you allow him this brief moment of rest. That can wait another fifteen minutes, showing some much needed love and affection cannot. You can see his lashes fluttering closed despite trying his damndest to keep them open (he needs to keep them open, damn it, you wouldn’t understand. Breathing is a sin unless it’s your scent, sight a sin unless it’s to look into your eyes. You don’t understand, his planet orbits around your sun. Without you pulling him in, he is but a rogue, lost in the dark and cold space, wandering without aim).

“Relax, I’ll wake you up soon.” You shush him, swiping your palm over his eyes like a gentle feather. Hyunjin takes your word for it, drifting into a saccharine sweet sleep, lulled to sleep by your silent hum, the dishwasher’s rumble falling even further into the distant scapes of his mind.

© KOISHUA 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[jina1028]

Right one

Taesan x fem!reader

Word count: 4.7K

Categories: fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn (sorry it's so long), smut, virgin reader, older reader, daddy/mommy said as joke, kissing, cuddling, making out, handjob but not really (?), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this irl), creampie, tell me if I missed something.

This fic is based on this anon request, hope this somewhat meets your expectations 🫶

English is not my first language, so constructive criticism is appreciated!

Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated but don't repost!

The characters and facts described in this fic don't represents real people or events.

🚫 MDNI 🚫

~♡~

“You know what, we should go on a trip together!”

Your best friend Dongmin - or Taesan, like you used to call him in your friends group because of his height - suggested after a long talk about how your lives had felt stressful lately.

You had broken up with your boyfriend about a month ago, finding out he had been cheating on you with two different girls. Not that you had lost much since you dated for about four months, but still it hurt so much when you thought you were on the same page, thinking about possibly having a future together, while he fooled around behind your back.

As for Taesan, he was tired from university exams and his part time job at a convenience store, and he was finally having a break from both in two weeks, according to what he was saying.

“I don't know… What kind of trip? I've never traveled with friends before.”

Taesan pursed his lips and rested his chin on his palm, humming as he criss crossed his long legs sitting on your couch with his elbows on his knees.

"Uhm, what if we go to Japan? Tokyo? Osaka? Both?”

Your head snapped to look at him with wide eyes, so fast you almost hurt your neck.

“Oh you meant a trip abroad?”

“So what, it's a short trip by plane.”

“Yeah but… it's gonna be more expensive if we gotta buy tickets, and hotel rooms…”

“Well, it's not like it would be much cheaper if we went, I don't know, to Busan by train, or Jeju… We'll need hotel rooms anyway, unless you wanna share a room with a man.”

You stared at him, thinking about his proposal about Japan.

“Fine, sounds good!”

He looked taken aback for a moment, widening his eyes to look at you.

“You really wanna share a room with me?” he pointed at his own chest.

You sighed, rolling your eyes “Not that, I was talking about going to Japan, let's do it!”

And so it was settled, you decided for Tokyo in the end, you booked your hotel rooms and flight tickets, and two weeks later you were there.

On your first day you just walked around Akihabara, looking into stores and chilling into cute cafes, where you insisted on him to wear cat ears and commenting on how cute he looked, trying to reach your hand to pet his head as he swatted it away, frowning and pouting, making you giggle at how he looked even cuter like that.

Later you just found a nice place to have a quick dinner and called it a day since you both were tired.

“You wanna sleep right away? I can keep you company and watch something on netflix if you're not too tired.”

You pondered Taesan's offer but decided to part ways at your door since you felt exhausted.

“I think I'll just take a shower and head to bed.” You yawned, waving and saying goodnight to your friend.

That night, as much as you felt drained of your energies, you couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, blaming it on the different bed, even though you had to admit the bed felt like a cloud. So what was the problem?

You grabbed your phone from the night stand and typed a message to your friend.

You asleep?

You waited for a bit but received no reply, so you just sighed and scrolled through your socials, waiting for morning to arrive so you could wake him up too early instead of waiting for his alarm to go off.

You started getting ready at 5.30 A.M. just so you didn't waste time after waking up Taesan.

When it was 6.30 A.M. you decided you had waited enough, so you called him.

You had to try twice before he picked up the phone, his groggy, raspy voice greeting you on the other side.

“Hello?”

“Good morning! Rise and shine, we have places to go, come on!”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“It's 6 fucking 30. Leave me alone.”

You felt your eyebrow ticking.

“You have no respect for your elders, do you?”

Silence again. He hung up. You sighed, getting up from the bed where you sat and went straight to his room next to yours, knocking on the white colored PVC.

You knocked again until you heard noises and curses behind the door, Taesan’s tall figure soon standing in front of you, holding the shin he had just hit on the furniture on his way to the door.

His hair was a mess, eyes half closed, a frown on his face as he hissed because of the pain.

When he straightened up you couldn't help but notice his pants tenting as your eyes shifted up from his injured shin to his face.

“Uhm, will you take care of your friend here before taking me into your room, please?” you teased him.

He looked down, then up again into your eyes with a half smirk on his lips.

“It's rude to just stare without shaking hands when you first meet someone, my friend is offended.”

“Dude, just go to the bathroom and do your stuff, let's meet downstairs!”

You hoped you hid your flustered expression well enough and stormed off without waiting for a reply.

The fact was, you were attracted to Taesan, he was good looking of course, and you felt some kind of chemistry around him. But you always thought it was one sided, and not wanting to ruin your friendship you always ignored the butterflies whenever he got closer to you or he pulled some flirtatious joke. The trip together seemed fun, until you started to realize being so close to him all the time was starting to get difficult on your part.

“So, what are we gonna do today? Any ideas?” Taesan approached you sitting on the sofa at the reception, scaring you as you were lost in thought.

You observed his relaxed features as you recovered from the jumpscare, hand resting on your chest.

“Oh, you don't seem grumpy anymore…”

He smiled innocently at you “Yeah, I took a nice, refreshing shower and now I feel great… So, where do we go today?”

You tried to ignore the subtle implication in Taesan's reply, your mind briefly going back to his accidental morning wood reveal.

“I was looking through the brochures at the reception and I really wanna try this onsen.”

You showed him the brochure where it described the type of service, the cost and how to reach your destination, which was a bit outside the city towards the mountains.

Taesan read a bit through it and eyed you raising his brows “You know we're supposed to be naked in there, right?”

“Yeah I know, but it's fine as long as we can cover ourselves somehow, like with a towel or something… And we can have a private room with its little private pool so we don't have to be naked in front of a lot of people like it normally would be!” you explained with your index finger raised.

“Somehow that's even worse…”

“What?” you couldn't hear him talking to himself.

“Nothing, if you really wanna go…”

“Yeah, I can't leave Japan without trying a real onsen!”

So after a couple of hours you were at the onsen reception, renting your private room and your bathrobes and ordering some food since you didn't have breakfast yet.

You both changed outfits and went to your room with food and drinks in hand, relieved to at least find some towels next to the little pool.

You ate chatting about what to do for dinner once you get back to the city, but when you finished your food the room fell silent.

“Well… Should we get in now?”

Taesan questioned, looking at you as he undid the belt on his bathrobe and started sliding it off his broad shoulders.

You panicked “Wait! Not in front of me! At least grab a towel first!”

You didn't know where to put your hands, on your whole face or in front of his crotch to block the dangerous area from your sight.

Taesan laughed out loud “Relax, I was just kidding, I'm not gonna flash you like this!”

“You little moron…” you cursed at him under your breath as he kept snickering, getting up to get a towel for himself and another one which he tossed at your face, trying to lighten the atmosphere and bring back your usual bickering mood.

You felt your face burning up as you told him to turn around while you wrapped yourself in the white towel and he did the same covering his waist and crotch.

You tried not to ogle at his broad chest, not wanting to get caught and give yourself away. You were starting to regret suggesting this kind of activity, overestimating your control over your emotions and body reactions, the butterflies in your stomach storming around, making you almost nauseous.

You both carefully dipped into the hot water, keeping your towels secured around your bodies and you tried to relax, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths as you rested your head on a smooth rock.

It was silent for a while and your mind started wandering until you felt like sharing some of your concerns with Taesan, who was sitting with his arms spread on the edge of the pool, eyes closed.

“Hey… I was thinking, what would you do if your girlfriend didn't have sex with you even after months into the relationship?”

“What kind of question is this?” Taesan furrowed his brows.

“Just think about it and answer. Would you cheat on her? Wait until she feels like doing it? What would you do?”

“Wait for her to feel safe with me, of course.”

You opened your eyes, side eyeing him as he still rested his head on the edge of the pool with his eyes closed.

“Be honest, I won't judge you…”

“I'm being honest, if I was into a relationship I would have love and respect for her, if I ever feel the need to cheat on my girlfriend, why keep the relationship going in the first place?”

“Right, that's a good point!”

“And” he continued “much before starting to think about cheating, which makes no sense to me, I'd try and understand why my girlfriend doesn't want to have sex with me, if I think that's an issue.”

“What if she's just scared… ‘Cause she's a virgin?” You eyed him, his eyes now open, staring at the plants next to the pool as he thought about his answer.

“I'd try to make her feel safe, and try not to make her feel pressured into doing it until she feels ready.”

He then shifted his gaze on your eyes “I'd feel honored to be her first, so I'd patiently wait for her.”

You hummed, letting his words resonate in your head, while you slowly slipped under the hot water surface, your nose barely out as you started feeling dizzy and closing your eyes. You could barely hear Taesan's voice calling your name as the heat got to your head and made you faint.

You opened your eyes, finding yourself laying on the wooden floor next to the pool, Taesan kneeling next to you, holding up your legs and fanning your face with the uchiwa the onsen provided you earlier.

He called your name again, a clearly worried expression on his face while you gradually regained conscience and he breathed a relieved sigh as you called his name and assured him you were fine.

“Lay there and keep your legs up, I'm calling the staff.”

“No no, I'm ok, just ask for some shaved ice so I can eat it and cool down a bit!”

“You sure?” Taesan eyed you suspiciously as he grabbed the phone.

“Yeah, I feel a lot better here outside the pool. I want melon on the shaved ice!”

He hummed, calling for room service, his eyes never leaving you as you kept fanning yourself.

“I'm ordering some cold noodles as well since it's lunch time already.”

The rest of the morning passed as you ate and relaxed, cooling down as Taesan constantly kept an eye on you, insisting on going back to the hotel right after lunch so you could rest in your room.

He allowed you some privacy just so you both could take a shower in your respective rooms then insisted on keeping you company watching netflix from the tablet in your room until dinner, which you ordered once again with room service.

“What do you wanna do after dinner?” you asked while chewing on your chicken skewers.

"What do you mean? We're staying in your room tonight, I wanna be sure you're not fainting again.”

“But-”

“We'll see what to do tomorrow morning after you rest.” Taesan stared at you.

“Ok daddy…” you teased him.

“Don't call me that, you're older than me, it makes me cringe.”

“You're implying you wouldn't mind me calling you daddy if I were younger?”

“It's not like that… How’d you react if I called you mommy?”

You almost choked on your water, a playful smirk on Taesan's lips as he watched you try to regain some composure.

“It's so fun, you always start shit then get flustered when I play your own game…” He got up from the chair and reached for the door.

“Gonna brush my teeth, I'll be right back. Find something to watch on netflix in the meantime.”

When you let him in your room again he went straight to your bed, fixing a pillow behind his back and watching you expectantly, making room next to him as you joined.

You chose something light to watch, just so you could relax before bed, all the while Taesan kept you close to him with his arm around your shoulders, stroking your arm gently and eventually resting his cheek on the side of your head, inhaling the faint scent of your shampoo.

You felt so warm, your cheeks heating up as you weren't used to such closeness, even though you enjoyed it.

When the movie was over and Taesan started moving to get up you suddenly clung to him and caged his arms and legs tangling yours together.

“Don't go, please…”

“What now, you wanna sleep together?”

When you didn't reply but just squeezed him more he squirmed just enough to free himself a bit and be able to look at your face, which you tried to hide against his chest, your eyes suddenly welling up with tears at the thought of being alone the whole night after the scare of that morning.

“Wait, you really want me to stay?”

“Don't laugh at me, I'm scared to be alone, ok?” You defended yourself.

“I'm not laughing at you. It's just, you acted so tough I thought I was the only one being worried… You really got scared, huh?”

He hugged you as you nodded your head as a reply.

“I'm sleeping here tonight if you want me to, don't worry.”

You eventually found yourself clawing at his white shirt like you were scared he would run away, as he shifted on his side to face you and get closer to you, his arm resting on your waist as you intertwined your leg between his.

After a while you thought he fell asleep as he didn't move anymore.

“Taesan…” you whispered and got no reply, but you continued anyway murmuring a little louder “Thanks, I really feel safe with you.”

He surprised you as he moved his arm, taking your hand into his big one, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles as you stopped breathing for a second.

“I'm glad, I really care about you, even though I always nag you…”

You chuckled “I like it, secretly…”

“And secretly, I like you… A lot.” Taesan confessed, looking at you in the faint light coming from the city outside the window.

“You better never scare me again like you did today, ok?”

He held you closer to his chest as he pressed his lips on your forehead, his warmth somewhat comforting even in the warm early summer weather.

You snuggled closer to him if that was even possible and raised your head, your noses brushing together as you gazed at him in the faint light, silently asking for him to cross the already blurry line between friendship and something more.

And he finally did, cupping your warm cheek into his large hand, holding you like he was scared to hurt you, as he brushed his lips against yours, then pressing them together when he felt your arms gripping his shirt, nails lightly scratching his back through the thin fabric.

You both sighed as you parted from the brief kiss, knowing your relationship would change forever and there was no going back.

You smiled as he pecked your lips again and again, his hands wandering until one rested on your hip, his thumb brushing your exposed skin as your pink shirt rode up your waist.

You hummed against his lips as his hand slid to the back of your thigh, hoisting it up to hook around his own thigh, his kisses now becoming more hot and passionate, your little positive sounds and reactions spurring him on.

His wet tongue slipped past your parted lips as you threaded your fingers through his dark locks, your making out more and more intense as he subtly started to roll his hips against yours.

And you felt it, his stiff bulge pressing against your clothed heat, eliciting a shy moan from you as his movements put pressure on your clit, a damp spot starting to form on your panties now.

This was all new to you, you never felt comfortable enough to go past some kissing with your ex.

You felt scared and safe at the same time, you felt an intimate connection with Taesan you'd never felt with anyone else before.

His soft lips and tongue sent sparks through your body as he kept kissing you with fervor, then he moved to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, as he pushed you to lay on your back, slotting himself between your spread legs, hips rolling and pressing down on you.

You couldn't stop your moans when he found a sensitive spot on your neck, sucking and biting on it, goosebumps forming on your body and shivers making you squirm under his weight.

Taesan stopped after a while, sliding his hands under the hem of your shirt and looking at you, making sure you still felt comfortable as he lifted your shirt above your chest and helped you remove it, revealing your white, lacey bra, his breath catching in his throat as he admired you.

“Don't stare…” your feeble voice snapped him out of his awestruck state and he smiled at you, looking directly into your eyes.

“Sorry…” he apologized before lifting his own shirt above his head, thinking if he was naked as well you would feel a bit less self conscious.

And it worked, your mind too preoccupied deciding whether or not to stare at his abs, or chest or just focus on his eyes.

Then your wandering eyes fell on the obvious tent in his grey sweats, your bottom lip between your teeth as you ogled it, curious to know how it would look if he was completely naked, if it really was as big as it looked while still restrained in his pants.

Taesan followed your gaze, noticing how you subtly squirmed, not being able to rub your thighs together as they were spread around his legs while he kneeled in front of you.

He then gently took your hand in his and put it on his abs just above the waistband, suggesting you touch him where he needed it most, but still not wanting to force you.

You looked up at him and then back down again where your hand rested, pressing a little and dragging it down to stroke on top of his bulge, experimentally wrapping your fingers around it as best as you could while it was still clothed.

It felt hot, hard and big, almost heavy as you curiously seized it, moving your hand slowly up and down.

You heard a groan leaving his throat as your thumb reached above the tip and pressed a bit, continuing your experimental strokes when Taesan suddenly wrapped his fingers around your wrist to stop your movements, using his other hand to pull down his sweats and reveal a wet patch on the side of his grey boxers, where his swollen tip sat, painfully restrained by the fabric.

He brought your hand on his clothed shaft again, your palm now damp with his precum as you resumed your strokes, looking up at him as he spoke, voice unusually raspy and strained.

“See what you do to me? Think I'll go insane… fuck-”

He cursed as you pressed your thumb under his slit, his shaft twitching as you kept stroking until he had to grab your wrist and stop you, already close to release.

You looked at him, concerned that maybe you did something wrong.

“Feels too good, don't wanna cum in my pants…” he chuckled as he pushed you down on the mattress once more, kissing you, tongues tangling together as he slowly reached a hand to massage on your breast through the fabric of your bra, eliciting a moan as his fingers brushed on your nipple, his hand then inching down to your blue shorts, slowly slipping his fingers past your waistband, observing your reaction as you took shaky breaths through your slightly agape lips.

He grasped the waistband and pulled your shorts down, revealing your white panties as he smirked, noticing how they matched your bra and asking himself if it was possible you actually planned this beforehand.

Taesan took a moment to admire you as you tried to cover yourself with your arms, suddenly feeling shy, before he reached his hand between your legs to caress your heat through the fabric, sliding his index and middle finger down your folds, feeling how your wetness pooled on the seat of your panties, the small squelching sounds leaving no doubts as he moved his fingers slowly up and down and in slow circles around your clit, little moans and whines filling his ears as he went back to kissing and sucking on your neck.

You suddenly felt his fingers pulling your panties to the side, his digits sliding through your wet folds as he groaned in your neck, nibbling and pulling on the skin, his fingers slowly circling your entrance until you felt his middle finger slowly prodding at your tight hole.

You gasped as he slowly and gently pushed inside, not expecting him to push to the knuckle but he did, stilling as you adjusted to the intrusion, then slowly starting to massage your walls, slightly curling it and pressing it upward until he found your most sensitive spot, signaled by your moans increasing in volume and frequency.

As you were still a virgin, you felt incredibly full just with one finger so you got a bit apprehensive when Taesan carefully started pushing his second digit along his middle finger as he slowly pumped in and out, your walls tight around it.

You grabbed his wrist stilling his movement before he could properly push his second digit inside.

“Wait, I- I think it’ll be too much… I'm not… Used to it.”

Taesan kissed your forehead and locked eyes with you, his face still close to yours, sharing the same air as you breathed heavily.

“This is your first time, right?”

You knew Taesan was not dumb, he would put two and two together after the apparently random talk that morning about cheating and virginity, so you just nodded without questions, still looking into his brown eyes.

“You still want me to be your first?”

“Yes.” You replied without hesitation.

“Please, trust me. I'll make you feel so good, I promise…”

You nodded before he closed the gap and kissed you slowly, your tongues chasing each other as he resumed his fingers’ movements, your muscles eventually relaxing and he took it as a sign to push his second finger in.

And so he did, carefully stretching you as the initial burn subsided and you started enjoying the sensation of his fingers curling and pressing around your warm walls.

He kept at it for a while, your hips eventually moving on their own as you started clenching around his digits, your climax slowly approaching, when a whine left your mouth, his fingers retracting from your wet warmth before you could reach your high.

Taesan brushed a hand on your hair and pecked your lips as he pulled down your underwear, his own following soon, leaving both of you naked except for your bra.

He grabbed one of your thighs, his still wet fingers dipping in the plush of your skin as his grip tightened and he wrapped it around his waist.

Like that you finally felt his shaft directly pressing against your core, and soon you understood why he insisted on stretching you out a bit more with his fingers.

His swollen tip struggled to slip past your tight entrance as he tried to guide it inside of you using his hand.

“Baby, relax, you're so tight…”

His tip was barely halfway in when he started massaging your clit, more wetness seeping around your entrance as he slowly pushed, feeling your muscles spasming, relaxing just to tighten again and again around his tip, but he eventually managed to fit inside, pausing for a moment, breathing heavily as you got accustomed to the feeling and he kept massaging your swollen clit.

“Doing so good, taking me so well…” he praised you, kissing your cheek as you panted and whimpered as he slowly started moving his hips again, moving back a little, spreading your arousal and pushing back a little more, your walls gripping him every time he tried to pull out a bit, until he felt he could push a little bit more roughly and he did, unable to hold back anymore as he finally bottomed out and he started thrusting as gently as his pleasure filled mind could allow.

The stretch felt unfamiliar but enjoyable as he dragged his shaft in and out, hitting deeply, spurred on by your moans and whimpers, your nails finding purchase on his neck and back.

Then you heard your own voice like it was someone else speaking, urging him to give you more, to fuck you harder, to come inside of you and make you his.

“You sure? Want me to- ugh- fuck you harder? Like this?” Taesan punctuated his words with hard thrusts as he grabbed both your legs and put them on his shoulders, almost folding you in half into the mattress.

You couldn't recognize your own voice as you moaned loudly with each deep thrust, your eyes squeezing shut as you finally came hard on his pistoning shaft, your walls convulsing on him, arousal coating his length as he groaned at the feeling, precum mixing to your juices.

With a final hard thrust he fucked into your spent cunt one more time and stilled as he emptied himself inside of you, the feeling of his warm seed coating your insides making you clench on his cock one more time, moaning his name as you slowly regained conscience of who you were and what had just happened.

Taesan carefully pulled out, observing in awe as his cum seeped out of you, cursing at the arousing sight, biting his lip.

You sat up and reached for him, pulling his face to yours to share a passionate kiss.

He caressed your cheek and opened his mouth to talk at the same moment as you did.

“I love you.”

You both giggled, the same sentence coming out of your mouths at the same time, and you were sure Taesan was the right one all this time and you were glad he felt the same.

[lottins-only]

THE STARS ALIGNED, THEY LED ME TO YOU | Jude Bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k

summary: jude starts his 2025 with a quiet morning walk to his favorite cafe. on that new year's day, his horoscope leads him to someone very special. as the year unfolds, the stars continue to chart his path, marking important relationship milestones and memories

warnings: smut

A/N: had this idea for quite a while and it was fun to write! let me know what you guys think :)

I.

january 1, 2025 - cancer, today is all about partnerships and fated meetings. keep an eye out for new connections that could change your life, and all things green. yes, green. 🍀

jude squints at his phone.

he’d downloaded an astrology app as a joke a while back, roped into it by a friend who was one of those people who took astrology really, really seriously. it was all rubbish of course. but for some inexplicable reason, he hasn’t deleted the app yet. maybe it was out of curiosity, or maybe just the fact that he liked having something to chuckle at during breakfast.

this morning, jude doesn’t feel like laughing at all. he groans as he shoves his phone into his pocket, wincing at the dull ache in his head. last night’s champagne had been a mistake. or maybe it was the tequila shots that came after. he wasn’t sure anymore. either way, he was paying for it now. the cold january air didn’t help much either, biting at his skin even through his oversized hoodie and thick sweatpants.

on early mornings during his off days, he liked walking inside the gated community he lived in. sometimes, he even dared to walk beyond the gates, wandering the streets of madrid where he's rarely afforded anonymity. he had a set route, a memorized path that despite technically being habitual by now felt like an escape from the sometimes drab routine of his daily life. occasionally, he'd stop at a small cafe nearby, ordering a small coffee to go. he had an unspoken agreement with the barista on shift during those early morning hours: no acknowledgment of who he was, no whispered recognition in front of the other patrons. or maybe he was overthinking it and the barista had no idea who he was at all. who knows.

he tugs the hood further down over his face, adjusting his headphones and the mask he wore to keep from being recognized. not that he expected to see many people out this early on new year’s day, anyway. there were only the party survivors, disheveled and stumbling back home. no time for them to notice any lone, wandering footballers.

when he eventually reaches and walks inside the cafe, he's not surprised to see that there's less people than usual. just a young couple in party clothes, bleary eyes and sharing a croissant.

he orders his usual, headphones still blasting music, and lingers by the counter as he waits. his eyes do wander though, and he notices a lone figure sitting by the window, her back facing him. his eyes are immediately drawn to the oversized bow in her hair. the bow is bright yellow, a contrast to the muted tones of the cafe.

he finds himself staring, wondering what pressing matter would have someone typing frantically into their laptop on new years day in a near deserted cafe. he watches her, all social awareness seemingly fleeing his mind.

that is, until the girl suddenly turns and gets up. his eyes snap away immediately, and he pretends to be busy with his phone as she walks up to the same counter he's standing by. it strikes him that it would be more awkward if he pretends not to have been looking at her, especially if she'd somehow noticed. so he looks up from his phone and catches her gaze.

the second thing he notices about her, besides the bow, is how strikingly pretty she is. deep brown skin, almond shaped eyes peering through tortoiseshell glasses, and a small smile on her lips as she catches his gaze. annoyingly, he feels his stomach dip. tell tale sign that he's attracted to this girl, which he could've figured out without the physical reaction. jude's a pretty self aware guy, after all.

"don't have a match today?" he voice carries over the music in his ears.

he blinks, momentarily thrown off by her directness. "no, i'm off"

"okay" she says, unfazed. "your coffee is ready"

"huh?" he blinks again.

"your coffee?"

his eyes follow to where her finger is pointing, to find that, sure enough, his coffee is ready and waiting for him. jude curses silently, realizing he was too busy staring at this girl and being lost in his music to notice the barista setting it down on the counter.

he glances up at the barista, who sends him a sly wink, as if to say, caught you.

he murmurs a quiet thank you, pays for his drink, and generously tips. all the while he waits for the girl to strike up conversation with him, or ask for a picture, or yell BELLIGOL!!!!! unprovoked. because that's usually what happens when people recognize him in public.

instead, she asks for a muffin, and when the barista hands it to her on a plate, she simply offers a soft smile to jude before walking back to her seat.

jude's jaw slackens.

"ask to sit with her" the barista, whose name tag reads enzo, encourages from across the counter.

"but-"

"you've got nothing to lose" he reminds him. "if she says no you just walk out and leave and never see her again"

except he does have something to lose. he always does, when it comes to these things. a small, paranoid part of him runs through the scenarios: what if she sneakily took a picture of him while he was standing there? what if she says no, and then runs to one of those stupid gossip accounts on instagram to announce jude bellingham is such a creep, ew!. what if-

the chatter in his mind is silenced when he notices the pin on the barista's shirt, which reads: GREEN PEACE.

jude is immediately reminded of his horoscope this morning. keep an eye out for all things green.

enzo follows his gaze, then grins. "i volunteer there. great cause you know?"

jude doesn't respond. the familiar thought creeps in again: horoscopes are ridiculous, and any person who makes decisions based on them is naive at best and downright cuckoo at worst. but this is harmless isn't it? its not like he's letting astrology convince him to sink his entire net worth into some sketchy crypto currency or something.

so he squares his shoulders and mutters to enzo, "fine, i'll go talk to her"

the barista just gives him an encouraging thumbs up as jude picks up his coffee and heads her way.

she’s still typing as he walks over, her fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of focus that makes him wonder if she's even aware of her surroundings at all. the oversized bow in her hair bobs slightly as she shifts in her seat. for some reason, he finds that little detail endearing.

when he finally reaches her table, he clears his throat softly.

“hi" he says confidently. "would you mind if i sat here?”

she looks up, tilting her head to study him for a beat. then, with a shrug, she gestures to the empty seat across from her. "go ahead"

she doesn’t look surprised that he’s there. instead, she closes her laptop gently and leans back on her chair as he takes a seat.

“didn’t think you’d actually do it” she says, sounding amused.

“do what?” he asks, also leaning back on his chair.

“come over and sit” she replies, a small smirk playing on her lips. “you were staring for a while”

he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “your bow is distracting”

she adjusts it on the back of her head, and a single strand of curls slips out from where she’d tucked it behind her ear. jude has to fight the urge to tuck it back in.

"got it yesterday"

“i like it” he says, fumbling a bit. “it’s very… cottage core?” he immediately regrets his words, because he has no idea what he's talking about. he hopes he's not embarrassing himself. “it gives off that vibe.”

he's relieved when she laughs. "thanks. i'll take it"

"i'm jude by the way" he says hastily. he hopes he's not coming off as arrogant by not introducing himself earlier, even though she recognized him.

"i'm y/n"

he nods towards her laptop. "y/n, what's got you so busy on new years?"

"oh, i'm applying for grad programs. finshing up uni soon, so yeah" she says shyly.

"what do you go to school for?"

she tells him about her major, how she's feeling about graduating soon. he listens intently, genuinely interested, and when it’s his turn to share about his job and life, he finds himself opening up too. it’s easy; surprisingly easy. for someone he met just ten minutes ago, their conversation flows effortlessly. she’s funny, quick witted in a way that keeps him on his toes, and she laughs at his jokes like she genuinely finds him amusing. it makes him feel good about himself.

enzo wanders over a while later.

"you two need anything else?"

jude glances down at his coffee cup, empty for at least the last twenty minutes. this would be the perfect moment to call it a day, to say goodbye and head home like he originally planned. with january being a very busy month for the team, he knows he should take every chance he gets to rest and recharge.

but leaving is the last thing he wants to do. talking to y/n is fun, refreshing.

"yeah, jude says, before he can overthink it. he nods toward y/n’s plate with a small grin. "i’ll have a muffin too"

II.

april 9, 2025 - today the stars are urging you to take charge, cancer. whether it’s expressing your feelings or trying something new, trust that courage will be rewarded 💪

having a crush is top 10 most painful things in the world.

jude used to roll his eyes at people who said that, chalking it up to melodramatics. but now he knows it first hand. because why in the hell is one person taking up so much of his brain space? how is that legal? how is that remotely okay?

that person is y/n, of course. they're friends now. close friends. friends who hang out regularly, who text a lot. friends who have inside jokes, shared playlists that she uses to tease him about his 'old man music taste', and a mutual understanding that they just get each other. its is great. it’s everything jude could ask for. except for the fact that it’s not enough.

for four months now, he feels like he's been sentenced to a life of angst. the kind that feels heavy on his chest whenever she's near, or worse, when she's not. so much so that he finds comfort in his so called 'old man music', sometimes unintentionally sulking to  '70s ballads about longing while staring dramatically out the window like one of those moody main characters in coming of age movies. his mother had caught him once and given him the biggest side eye, as if saying get a grip please!!

and when his woe is me schtick doesn’t work? he distracts himself the only way he knows how: throwing himself at girls who aren’t her.

it’s not something he’s proud of. in fact, it makes him feel like an idiot most of the time. but what else is he supposed to do? she doesn’t seem to want him, not like that, and he’s stuck in this cruel limbo that's seemingly never ending. best bet he has is to try and forget.

on this april evening, jude is walking out of the locker room after a match, his heart still racing from the rush of adrenaline and the high of scoring a brace. y/n waits for him in the underground parking lot of the bernabéu– a rare thing, since she doesn’t care much for football and has only attended his matches once or twice, and always in the company of his other friends. the irony isn’t lost on him: the person who occupies so much of his thoughts doesn’t share his love for the thing that defines his life. it’s baffling, but it doesn't feel wrong, and he’d managed to convince her to come tonight, using the excuse that his mom was out of town and he’d appreciate the company on the drive home.

he finds her leaning against his car, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone.

“hey” she says when she spots him, grinning at him. “you took your time"

"sorry" jude grins back. "there were so many people to take pics with"

then she throws herself at him so suddenly that he stumbles, barely managing to steady them both. she envelopes him into a tight hug, and jude surrenders himself to it gladly, heart pounding insistently against his ribs.

“two goals!” she leans back, her face alight with excitement as her hands grip his shoulders. she shakes him slightly, her energy infectious. “you were fucking unstoppable!”

“thanks” jude giggles, pulling her into another hug. he’ll take any physical closeness he can get.

they stay like that for a moment longer than necessary, and then y/n pulls back, her hands flying to his hair. she tugs gently at one of his coils, frowning slightly.

“your hair is so dry” she says, her tone exasperated but fond. “did you forget to use the leave in gave you? you have to put it on after you shower, jude” she tsked.

out of the corner of his eye, jude notices his driver glancing at them in the side mirror before quickly looking away. he wonders again if this looks like more than what it is. not that he’d mind if it did.

“no, yeah, i did bring it” jude says defensively, but just as he’s about to grab his bag to show her, his hand freezes. his pockets are empty. “shit” he mutters, patting himself down to make sure. “think i forgot my phone back there”

“it’s alright” y/n assures him. “we can go get it” 

the elevator ride back to the locker room is quiet. jude shifts from foot to foot, sneaking glances at y/n, who seems to be pointedly avoiding his gaze for whatever reason.

when the doors open, they step into the hallway where jude had been earlier. he spots his phone right where he thought it’d be, face down on a bench just outside the locker room where he’d been taking pictures with fans.

“there it is” he sighs in relief. 

“imagine someone nicked it” y/n jokes as she picks it up. 

“i’d be fuming” he chuckles, but then he notices her face. she’s frowning down at his screen, evidently bothered by what she sees. a second later, she hands it back to him, a tight, forced smile on her face.

“oh” y/n’s voice is light, almost too casual. “here you go”

jude finds what’s caught her attention. Its a DM notification from a girl, the message preview reading: had fun last week.  when can I see you again?

“its  uh– its someone i met at a party last week” jude stammers. “we–we didn’t, you know, but–”

“you don’t owe me an explanation” she says quickly, her voice light but strained. “it’s fine”

but it’s not fine, and the sudden distance in her tone cuts deep. jude clenches his jaw, sliding his phone into his pocket as they head back to the elevator. fucking idiot, he scolds himself. but a part of him is hopeful. maybe she cares, maybe she wants him the same way he wants her.

the ride down is tense, a heavy silence between them. jude feels like the words are right there, desperate to get out, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“thanks for coming tonight” he finally says, breaking the quiet. “even though football isn’t really your thing”

she glances at him, her lips twitching. “you’re my thing”

the words are like a punch in the gut, but in a good way.  before he can stop himself, before he can overthink, he blurts out: “i like you. more than a friend, i mean. i have for a while now. and i know this probably isn’t the right time or place to say it, but i can’t keep pretending i don’t feel this way about you”

y/n stares at him for a beat, her eyes searching his face. then, without warning, she steps forward, cups his cheek, and kisses him. it’s soft at first, but when he kisses her back, it deepens, all the pent up feelings spilling out.

“i like you too” she murmurs against his lips in between kisses. “a lot”

she doesn’t say anything more, and neither does he. there’s an unspoken understanding that they’ll get to talk later. there’s  time to untangle his messy coping mechanisms, to decide what this is and what it could become. for now, it’s enough to kiss like two people who’ve been suppressing so much for so long. for jude, it feels like a long exhale after holding his breath. its feels like relief, like a much needed respite. 

the elevator dings, and they jump apart just as the doors slide open. a staff member is standing on the other side, clearly trying not to stare. jude is too happy to feel embarrased.

“buenas noches!” jude says brightly, winking at the man before grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her out of the elevator, their fingers intertwined. 

III.

july 1, 2025 - things are heating up!🔥. the stars are conspiring to bring moments of ecstasy to you, cancer.

the first three months of jude and y/n dating flipped everything he'd pictured for his early 20s on its head: staying single, having fun, engaging in meaningless hookups that served their purpose but left no emotional trail behind. those plans flew out the window thanks to y/n, who makes him laugh until his stomach hurts, who became one of the few people in the world he feels truly himself with, who now goes out of her way to watch football because she knows how much it means to him.

plus he's having the best sex of his life. he really can't complain.

its the middle of summer, a couple days after his birthday and a few before he has to leave on the team's preseason tour. they're in birmingham, taking a quick two day trip before the craziness of their lives pulls them in different directions. jude spends the day showing her around the city—his old stomping grounds, the places that defined his childhood and adolescence. it feels amazing to share this part of himself with her, to show her the nooks and crannies of what makes him him. 

now they’re back in his house, indulging in other activities. 

“young denzel was so fine. i mean, he can still get it. he's aged like fine wine” she’d sighed earlier, her head resting on his chest. they were cuddling on his sofa, the mighty quinn playing on the tv. they were both slightly distracted: her scrolling through her phone, and jude absentmindedly admiring the bracelet she'd gifted him for his birthday. (jobe had caught him doing the same at breakfast and muttered something about people in love being disgusting)

jude had side eyed her, hand resting lazily on her hip. “was he finer than me?”

"yeah" she'd said without skipping a beat. "definitely"

he'd gasped, feigning offense. "you're supposed to say no. i'm your boyfriend!"

"you're not far off from him, i guess" she'd teased.

"you guess?"

"you asked" she shrugged, fighting a smile. then after a slight pause, "you know, i dated a guy that looked a lot like him once. he was sooo-"

"right that's it" he said, grabbing the remote and turning off the tv. "no more movie nights with you"

"oh no" she deadpanned, tone dripping with sarcasm as she removed herself from his arms and faced him. "how am going to survive without your 28th rewatch of training day?"

jude couldn't help the grin spreading across his face. he couldn't never stay mad at her; not even pretend mad. before she could react, he grabbed her and gently flung her onto the couch cushions, eliciting a surprised squeak as he pinned her down and started tickling her. her giggles spilled out loudly, her protests coming out in breathless half sentences as he attacked every ticklish spot he could find.

one thing had led to another — heated kisses, a move to his bedroom, clothes thrown off frantically, hands wandering—and now here they are, her body curving towards him, her face contorted in pleasure as pounds into her.

she’s so slick, taking him all at once, and jude’s body has no choice but to surrender to its most primal instincts. in and out. plunge in then retreat. he’s dizzy with pleasure, but even through it, he can’t help but feel a little salty about her earlier comments.

"bet offbrand denzel couldn't make you feel like this" jude murmurs against her ear, his voice low and rough. the rhythm of his hips snapping forward punctuates his words.

her nails drag down his back, leaving faint trails as she gasped "he wouldn’t even have to try"

he nips at the soft skin of her neck. "guess i’ll just have to prove i’m better won’t i?"

she's so tight and warm and wet, he doesn't ever want this to stop. his movements grew deeper, more deliberate, and he smirks when she cries out his name, her hands gripping his shoulders like her life depended on it. "say it" he demands, voice a mix of amusement and lust. "say i’m better"

"you’re-oh god, you’re such an idiot" she manages between moans, refusing to give in completely, though her body betrays her with how eagerly it responds to his every touch.

"wrong answer" jude mutters, his lips brushing hers before he kissed her deeply, swallowing her protests and replacing them with soft whimpers.

his pace quickens, each thrust dragging a gasp or a broken words from her lips. jude leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, his voice dipping lower. "admit it" he murmurs, his tone slightly smug. "i'm the best you've ever had"

she doesn't respond, and jude can't blame her, they're fucking so good he can't think straight now. and then, as if she can sense he's about to lose control, she gasps, "don't come. not yet. don't stop, please, baby"

he grits his teeth and tries to obey. then she brings him impossibly closer, so their sweaty bodies are pressed up against each other, and kisses him. and all he can think is mine. this beautiful, sweet girl is writhing in pleasure under him and she's his. he'll thank his lucky stars forever.

afterward, they lie tangled together on his bed, having only moved to discard the condom and clean up. their hearts drum in tandem, fast and loud. y/n looks drowsy, her eyelids heavy.

"i lied, by the way" she murmurs slowly against his chest.

"about what?"

"about dating someone that looked like young denzel washington" she giggles. "i made that up to get you riled up"

jude bites her shoulder playfully. "i hate you"

what he really wants to say is, i love you.

IV.

september 17, 2025 - communication is key, cancer 🗣️. today, the stars urge you to focus on how you express yourself. be clear and open in your communication—it’s the foundation for building trust and understanding.

jude can’t shake the feeling that something is off, and it’s gnawing at him.

he’d flown out of madrid the night before for a champions league away game, catching up with y/n for a bit after settling into his hotel room before calling it a night. now, its the afternoon of the next day and he’s in the locker room gearing up for their final training before the match, and he's feeling uneasy because he hasn't heard from y/n since.

he’d texted her his usual good morning when he woke up. no reply. after breakfast, he’d sent her a funny tiktok, something he knew would usually get a quick response, but still, nothing.

it wasn’t like her, and the silence was starting to weigh on him.

the concern he felt earlier turns into irritation as afternoon turns into evening. if y/n was upset with him, why wouldn’t she just say so? the silent treatment didn’t solve anything, and it wasn’t like her either. they’d always been the type to talk things out.

after training, he tries to distract himself. he joins the boys for a round of video games, their laughter and trash talk filling the hotel room. but every few minutes, his eyes flick to his phone, waiting for a reply that doesn’t come. each notification he gets, from group chats to random emails to that stupid astrology app just irritates him further.

they’ve never gone a whole day without talking. ever. the thought nags at him, and as stubborn as y/n can be, jude knows himself: he always caves first. always.

by the time the boys leave his room, jude is pacing, phone in hand. he sighs heavily and hits the facetime button, his thumb hovering over the screen for a split second before he presses call.

y/n’s face appears on the screen when the call connects, and jude’s irritation completely disappears the moment he sees her. she looks exhausted. her curls are a mess, dark circles under her eyes, and there’s something guarded in the way she looks at him.

“hi, babe” he says softly, clearing his throat. “you good? you weren’t responding to my messages all day”

“i’m good" she says curtly.

he waits for her to say more, but she stays silent. he feels a pang of hurt and irritation again. no asking how his day was? how he's feeling before the match?

"how was your day?" he tries.

"fine"

"what did you get up to? how were classes?" he tries again.

"okay"

jude exhales loudly, visibly frustrated. "can i get a response that's more than one word?"

he watches as she shifts around in her seat. "well, i couldn't get a word in last night so i thought what's the point?"

"what?" jude furrows his eyebrows, genuinely confused.

"you were going on and on about your match and your photoshoot coming up and i wanted to tell you about how this exam tomorrow is stressing me out-" her voice wobbles over the last few words and she pauses for a bit, lips pursed and eyes glossy. "- but you couldn't pay attention for the life of you"

jude is silent, jaw slack as he watches his girlfriend on the other end wipe a stray tear away because of him. in his head, nothing seemed amiss last night during their call. but she wasn't lying; he was venting a lot about the match and some logistical issues his agents were worried about for his next shoot. and yeah, maybe he hadn’t given her the space to speak, hadn’t noticed the subtle shifts in her tone or the demeanor that might’ve hinted at how overwhelmed she was feeling.

he curses himself under his breath, because now he realizes that he hadn't even checked their shared calendar the past couple of days, so he hadn't even known about the exam. and to think he picked up the phone because he was annoyed at her.

“y/n” he says, voice low and filled with remorse. “i-i’m so, so sorry. i didn’t mean to-” he stops himself, groaning softly as he facepalms. “i messed up. i wasn’t paying attention, and that’s on me. i’m really, really sorry”

she sniffles. "its okay"

"please don't cry"

"i'm not crying because of you, idiot" she snorts. "i'm crying because i'm stressed out"

jude fully lays down on the bed. "okay, how can I help?"

y/n sighs, wiping her cheeks as she looks at him through the screen. "you can't exactly help me pass this exam, jude"

"no, but I can help you feel less stressed" he says earnestly, his voice softer now. "talk to me, babe. tell me everything. what’s been going on?"

she hesitates for a moment, but when she starts talking, it’s as if a dam breaks. the words spill out in a rush, tumbling as she tells him everything; the material is so much harder than she anticipated, no matter how much she studies it feels like nothing sticks, and the crushing pressure to excel is suffocating her. she pours it all out, every frustration, every fear, every doubt.

jude nods, listening intently. “yeah, that sounds rough. and i made it worse. i should’ve checked the calendar, and i should’ve asked how you were feeling. instead i was just rambling about my stuff"

"you didn’t mean to" she says softly, though her tone is still tinged with exhaustion.

"but I did it, and I’m sorry" he replies, sitting up now, his elbows resting on his knees. “look, communication is our thing, yeah? it’s what makes us work. we can’t let that slide. i don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not here for you, especially when you need me the most”

she gives him a small smile. “and i shouldn’t have just shut down on you today. i could’ve told you how i was feeling instead of ghosting”

“so lets agree no more bottling things up” jude says, a faint grin tugging at his lips. “if one of us is stressed or annoyed or just having a bad day, we say it. no silent treatments, no guessing games”

y/n nods, her shoulders relaxing. “deal”

“good” jude says, his voice lighter now.

they spend the rest of the call catching up on the little things. she shows him the nails she’s planning to get soon, scrolling through her pinterest to show him the design. he mentions that he’s getting a trim in the morning, which prompts her to tease him mercilessly, saying he probably spends more time in his barber’s chair than he does on the football pitch. he quips back that its probably less time than she spends obsessively curating her pinterest boards.

they say their i love yous and good nights, and jude heads to bed, already feeling lighter and more relaxed about the game tomorrow. she has that effect on him, y/n. a way of making him feel seen, loved, and just serene.

he wants to keep her forever.

V.

january 1, 2026 - gratitude grounds you, cancer. 🌟 take a moment today to appreciate everything you've accomplished, as it will give you the clarity and confidence to take the next steps with purpose✨

enzo is standing behind the counter when they enter the cafe, a smile spreading across his face when he recognizes them. it feels serendipitous, almost fated, that they're greeted by the same barista who served them on this day last year, the day they first met.

"ah, my favorite lovebirds!" he exclaims. "happy new year! what will it be today?"

they order their drinks and settle into a corner table, the same one they’d sat at a year ago. between sips of coffee, they make plans to stop by the pharmacy on their walk back to pick up ibuprofen for the hangover still lingering over them.

then, as if it’s the most natural part of the conversation, jude pulls out a key from his pocket and slides it across the table. his expression is soft, his voice as confident as the day he’d first asked to sit with her. “move in with me” he clears his throat. "please?"

she blinks, caught off guard for only a moment, before her lips curve into a smile. “ yes. i mean, i would love to”

it was a long time coming. their relationship is going strength to strength, despite their seemingly different worlds. all because, at their core, they're the same. jude feels proud that he's built something great with someone so special- even looking at her now makes his heart splutter, he's never going to be used to how beautiful she is. most of all he's proud that they’ve managed to carve out a space in each other for each other.

every time she stayed over, every morning they woke up tangled in the same sheets (her inevitably hogging the covers to his annoyance) it felt right. so this question has been building for a while, and when he finally asked it, her answer, immediate and without hesitation, feels like the most natural thing in the world.

they walk out of the cafe after a while, arm in arm. he steals glances at y/n walking beside him and he feels an overwhelming sense of gratitude. for that stupid astrology app and enzo's GREEN PEACE pin. but most of all, for the kismet of that day a year ago, for everything they’ve built since, and for everything still ahead.

[st44rkeys]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

pairings: assassin rafe cameron x assassin fem reader

warnings: strong language, mention of organ/drug/human trafficking, explicit content

wc: 19,558

a/n: enjoyy<3

part 1, part 2, part 3

taglist: @highladyofhogwarts @marcibv @rafeskai @psychocitylights @niaizzy1623 @fuckeduppotato @drewwhor

“Bienvenidos a Cayo Santa María, Cuba. Disfrute su estancia" the guard at the cruise terminal greets with a warm smile. The sun is high casting a golden light over the vibrant port, and the air smells faintly of saltwater and tropical fruit. You return his smile with a polite nod as the crowd moves around you.

Rafe’s hand rests lightly on your shoulder, his posture relaxed as he gently guides you through the bustling scene. The rhythmic clink of jewelry and the murmur of travelers blend with the occasional burst of laughter from nearby tourists. He pulls you a little closer, his shoulder brushing against yours as you step together toward the pier, the sound of footsteps quickening with every step.

“Gracias" Rafe says 

 You roll your eyes “Is that the only Spanish word you know?” you ask amusement creeping into your voice.

Rafe scrunches his nose, a half smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances down at you. “Is it that obvious?”

You can’t help but snort, the sound cutting through the background noise of laughter and chatter. “Well yeah. You’ve said ‘gracias’ a thousand times and nothing else.”

You and Rafe stand side by side, both staring around in disbelief. The pictures hadn’t prepared you for how beautiful the place really was. The beach was close, just a short walk away, and it was packed with people kids running around, laughing, and shouting as the waves crashed on the shore. The scent of saltwater mixed with the faint smell of sunscreen and tropical fruit. On the other side, a green market stretched along the street, filled with colorful stalls selling fresh fruit, spices, and handmade goods makimg your mouth water.

The air was thick with the sounds of bargaining and chatter, the atmosphere warm and inviting. Down the road, at the end of it all, a neighborhood of stunning villas lined the coast. The white walls of the homes stood out against the lush green landscape, with large windows offering perfect views of the beach and ocean.

You felt a wave of longing, wishing this wasn’t a mission. It almost felt like you could just forget everything and enjoy the moment.

“It’s so pretty" you turn your head to take it all in. Rafe who’d been silently watching the scene, finally looks over at you his gaze softening just a little. “Yeah" 

Rafe unlocks his phone, scanning the address he was sent. His fingers move quickly over the screen as he pulls up Google Maps and studies the directions. He looks up his eyes moving across the neighborhood perfectly manicured lawns, palm trees swaying in the breeze and says “At least we’ll be living good.”

You follow his gaze, taking in the amazing scene yourself, and a small cheer rises silently in your chest. You grab the suitcases without a second thought and head up the path. Rafe of course, ends up carrying most of the bags, the weight not bothering him in the least.

As you walk ahead the sound of your steps on the pavement fills the air, but Rafe’s attention drifts back to you. His eyes flicker over the way your shorts hug your figure, something in him tightening at the sight. He knows he shouldn’t be looking he knows better but it’s hard not to.

Clearing his throat, he quickly forces his gaze to the path ahead his jaw clenching slightly as he tries to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up on him.

As you enter the neighborhood the beauty of the houses becomes even more striking clean lines, lush landscaping. The people here seem to be constantly aware of their surroundings and as you walk through, most stop what they’re doing to watch you. The looks range from sharp, envious stares to bored glances, as if they’re trying to figure out who you are or why you’re here.

As you approach the front door you stop noticing a security guard coming toward you, eyes trained on you both.

You exchange a quick knowing look with Rafe. He sighs clearly irritated. “Of course these rich idiots have guards" he mutters under his breath, rolling his eyes.

As the guard gets closer, Rafe takes off his sunglasses, sliding them into his pocket with ease. His expression shifts, and he straightens up slightly adopting a more neutral respectful posture. “Hello"  

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Starkey?”

You give a subtle nod flashing your most practiced smile. The guard mirrors the smile, his expression relaxing, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a set of keys.

“Here are your keys" he says smoothly handing them over. “If you need anything during your stay we’re available 24/7”

Rafe glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “24/7 huh? That’s nice” he says, a dry tone in his voice. “You’re working hard.”

The guard chuckles lightly. “It’s my job sir” he replies his smile never fading.

As the keys dangle from your hand you unlock the door and step inside, the soft rolling of the suitcases following immediately behind you.

You smile despite yourself as you take in the space. It’s small but there’s a certain charm to it. The bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen are all that occupy the space but it’s more than enough. The walls made of polished wood lend a vintage feel to the room, and the soft scent of cedarwood fills the air.

Your eyes fall on the bed in the center of the room massive and inviting. The sight of it makes you pause. Scattered across the bed are delicate petals, forming the faint outline of initials yours and Rafe’s, well Jane and Drew.

Rafe snorts

You step further into the room, your eyes wandering over the surroundings. The balcony catches your attention the sliding door leading to it wide open. Stepping toward it you find two chairs with a small table between them. The view outside isn’t much, but it’s peaceful.

You glance back toward Rafe, who’s standing just inside the door his posture as rigid as ever. He hasn’t said much since you arrived, his eyes scanning the room with the same detachment he always wears.

“Not bad" you say, breaking the silence

His gaze flickers toward you, then quickly back to the room, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “It’ll do" he mutters 

With a single knowing glance exchanged between the two of you, the atmosphere shifts. There’s an unspoken agreement and in an instant your instincts take over. You start scanning the corners of the room for any hidden cameras, eyes narrowing as you quickly assess the space. It only takes a moment but you see no immediate signs of surveillance.

Rafe’s gaze sharpens and with a subtle nod he points toward the bathroom, then toward you. You don’t need any more cues. Without hesitation, you reach into your bag, pulling out the bug scanner. Your fingers move with practiced precision as you head for the bathroom.

You click the scanner into place, letting it sweep the room for any hidden devices. Every second counts, and you methodically check every corner of the small space, eyes scanning the tiles and mirrors for any anomalies.

Meanwhile in the other room Rafe works just as fast. He places the scanner on the bed, allowing it to sweep for signals. He closes the curtains with quick, the soft fabric falling into place and then moves on to check under the bed. Every drawer is opened, every nook inspected. 

As he opens the last one, pulling it out just far enough to spot a small, inconspicuous container. His eyes scan the contents and with a smirk he pulls out a box of condoms. The corner of his mouth twitches as he chuckles quietly, shutting the drawer with a soft click. “We won’t be needing that" 

As you step out of the bathroom, your eyes lock with Rafe’s. The briefest of nods passes between you

“Clear" 

“We should put the guns somewhere secure" you suggest voice low betraying no sign of urgency. Dropping to your knees you unzip one of the suitcases. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of the guns the weight of them familiar. You lift the bed with practiced ease, sliding the weapons beneath it making sure they’re hidden in the shadows. 

Rafe moves beside you his gaze flickering over every inch of the room before he turns to gather smoke bombs and other explosives. He moves quickly, he’s done this a hundred times before. The weapons are hidden carefully in a compartment at the back of the closet tucked just beneath a pile of clothing. 

With everything stashed away, you turn to the knives. Placing them inside a decorative vase on the table, you make sure to position them just right.

The room falls into a heavy silence as you take a step back assessing your work. You can hear Rafe moving around too putting the finishing touches on his side of things. Your pulse quickens slightly not from panic but from the subtle tension that always lingers in moments like this. You both know how easy it would be for someone to walk in and undo all of this. The whole operation would be huge fail

Not to mention, your heads would be gone too

Thirty minutes pass though it feels like an eternity. You slowly organize your clothes, neatly folding each item. There’s no trace left behind, no sign of anything out of place. Just a married couple, preparing for their vacation 

Rafe lets out a low whistle as he walks up to the window, pulling the curtain aside just enough to look out. His eyes scan the street, taking in the small, quiet houses around them.

Curious you step up next to him nudging him slightly so you can get a look too. The neighborhood is quiet almost too quiet, like the kind of place where everyone pretends their lives are perfect. Some houses are small some bigger, but neat with tidy gardens and perfectly trimmed hedges. It’s the kind of setting that’s supposed to feel peaceful but just ends up feeling fake.

Your eyes drift to the house across the street. Andrea and Diego are just stepping inside their movements sharp and tense. Even from here, you can tell they’re arguing. Andrea’s arms are crossed tightly while Diego’s pacing ahead of her, throwing his hands up.

“Trouble in paradise" you mumble under your breath and Rafe snorts quietly in response.

Then his focus shifts and yours follows, both of you zeroing in on the house or rather, the mansion at the end of the street. It stands out like it’s begging for attention towering over the smaller homes around it.

'House' doesn’t even feel like the right word. It’s massive, with palm trees lining the driveway and a huge pool glittering out front. The kind of place that looks like it belongs to a celebrity or some tech billionaire. Floor to ceiling windows stretch across the front showing just enough of the inside to make you wonder what ridiculous stuff might be hidden away in there.

“Guess we know where that pig has been spending his blood money" 

You can’t help but agree. The mansion is obnoxious in every way, from its size to the overly polished exterior. Everything about it screams excess like it was designed to flaunt power. But it doesn’t impress you. It just makes you think about the people who suffered to make it possible.

“The guards are gonna be a huge problem for us" you say, crossing your arms as you watch the street through the window.

Rafe lets out a sigh, his gaze lingering outside for a moment longer. “We’ll deal with them later" he says his voice calm but firm. Then his eyes meet yours. “First we just need to get that invite to the gala. And our new friends are gonna help us with that.”

You raise a brow at his confidence but don’t argue. He lets the curtain fall back into place, shutting out the view of the neighborhood as he turns toward the bed. For a moment he just stands there, his hands resting on his hips like he’s working through some silent thought.

Then a mischievous look flashes across his face. “Hold on" he moves toward the bed.

You watch as he grabs a handful of the rose petals someone had oh-so-romantically arranged earlier. Before you can ask what he’s doing he sits on the edge of the bed brushing the fake initials aside with an almost dismissive flick of his wrist.

“What are you-" you start but he cuts you off.

“Fixing this mess" he says simply. His hands work quickly, rearranging the petals into something new. Your eyes narrow as you step closer and then you realize what he’s doing.

It’s not the fake initials anymore. Now it’s your real ones, yours and his.

For a second, you’re too stunned to say anything. He looks up at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“There" he says leaning back a little to admire his work.

You cross your arms tilting your head as you stare at him waiting for an explanation. He doesn’t give you one. Instead he just shrugs that infuriatingly smug smile tugging at the corners of his lips like he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

Your eyes narrow. “What?” he says still grinning. “Don’t like a little romance?”

Rolling your eyes you grab your bag and without hesitation, toss it right onto the bed landing it square in the middle of his carefully arranged petals. The soft scattered mess feels oddly satisfying.

“Hey!” he calls out half offended half laughing. “I worked hard on that!”

You roll your eyes a habit you’ve developed far too quickly since being stuck with him and unzip your bag pulling out your laptop. Without a word you walk over to the desk and sit down flipping open the screen.

The familiar glow lights up your face as you quickly type in your password your fingers moving instinctively over the keys. Your focus sharpens on the task ahead even as you feel Rafe’s presence behind you.

It doesn’t take long before he joins you, casually dropping into the chair next to yours. He leans back stretching his legs out like he has all the time in the world. You glance at him briefly, catching his usual smirk

You ignore him, instead glancing at the scanner you’d placed discreetly by the door earlier. Its tiny green light blinks steadily a quiet reassurance that you’d know the second someone got too close. It’s a simple precaution, but necessary given the circumstances.

As you glance back at your screen, Rafe leans forward slightly his arm brushing yours. You stiffen just for a second, before focusing harder on the work in front of you.

“You know" he starts "we make a pretty good team. When you’re not ruining my hard work that is.”

You sigh, still typing, but can’t help firing back. “Good to know your definition of teamwork involves sitting there doing absolutely nothing.”

“Hey I’m the one who snagged his phone data" he defends nudging you with his elbow

Before you can fire back Rafe interrupts, nodding toward your laptop. “Click here" he says leaning closer and pointing at the screen.

You follow his direction, your fingers brushing the trackpad as you open the file. A list pops up almost immediately, lines of text neatly organized.

“It’s a list of his properties. Pope and Kelce sent this to me" you murmur scrolling through the entries. Your eyes skim over the names and locations. “Look at this a market, a meat processing plant… even a bunch of rental properties.”

Rafe peers over your shoulder, his brows furrowing slightly. “He could be hiding his stuff in one of the places"

You hum in agreement your mind already racing with possibilities. “We should dig deeper into this see which ones are actually worth checking out.”

“In the meantime" Rafe says, standing up and stretching with a slight grunt "we can go out, take a closer look around and grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

You glance at him your stomach agreeing more than your mind, and give a silent nod. You reach for your sunglasses and slide them on tucking your bag over your shoulder. As you move to walk past him your eyes meet his, an unspoken pause hanging in the air.

And that’s when it hits you.

You both are dressed exactly the same.

Black shorts, white pants. A black t-shirt, and a white crop top. Same sunglasses, perfectly matching.

You freeze for a moment, staring at him with disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” How did you not notice this before?

Rafe’s lips curl into a mischievous smirk as he leans casually against the wall arms crossed in an almost teasing posture. He looks you up and down his gaze lingering for just a beat longer than usual. “You’re looking good angel.”

It’s clear he’s been enjoying the matching outfits all along. After all he noticed right away, but what fun would it be to tell you?

You roll your eyes trying to mask the amusement creeping onto your face. “You couldn’t have told me sooner?”

Rafe shrugs nonchalantly clearly amused by your reaction. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You push open the door, stepping out into the quiet street with Rafe right behind you. The sound of the lock clicking into place echoes softly as he secures it. You start walking toward the gate your steps steady, Rafe falling into step behind you just close enough.

“Ahh, new neighbors?” a voice suddenly chimes from behind you cutting through the stillness of the air.

You turn to find a woman approaching with a large, almost too eager smile. She’s probably in her mid-30s, her steps quick and confident as she gets closer.

 “Ah hi.”

Rafe moves silently beside you, his posture relaxed, his shoulder brushing yours as he shifts his weight. You feel the subtle tension in the air as he silently observes the woman.

The woman stops directly in front of you, her bright green eyes gleaming with what seems like unfiltered curiosity. Her red hair, shiny and perfectly styled, frames her face in loose waves, and her outfit is impossibly expensive, pristine and too flawless to be casual.

“My name is Katherine, but you can call me Katie" she says with a bright laugh, grabbing your hand and shaking it firmly.

You offer her a confident smile, not missing a beat. “Oh nice to meet you, I’m Jane.” With a slight tilt of your head, you motion to Rafe. “And this is Drew" 

Katherine immediately takes Rafe’s hand, her grip tight, almost calculating. He meets her eyes with a level gaze, his handshake firm but controlled 

"Hello"

You glance at their clasped fingers for a second, then shift your focus back to Katherine with a knowing smile. You slide your hand onto Rafe’s bicep, your touch easy and natural. 

“My husband”

Katherine’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovers, her smile returning smoothly as she releases Rafe’s hand. “Welcome" she says, her tone almost too friendly. “I saw you earlier and thought I’d come over to say hi.”

Rafe's mind is already elsewhere could she leave already? he wonders silently. “Yeah we’re just here for a little vacation" he says his voice casual but with a hint of impatience.

Katherine nods, seemingly satisfied with the response. “Ah how long are you staying?”

“A week" you reply smoothly, but inside, your mind is ticking through the minutes. Every second she spends here is one you can’t get back. Her incessantly high-pitched voice is grating on your nerves, each word feeling like it’s triggering a warning signal in your brain.

You fight to keep your expression neutral, but your patience is wearing thin.

But Rafe being Rave, he can't wait. With a polite yet firm smile he steps forward, cutting the conversation short. “It was really nice meeting you but we have to go, we’re starving" he says, his tone friendly. He grabs your hand and starts to pull you away not even waiting for a response.

As you both move, you glance over your shoulder at Katherine, who looks momentarily taken aback. “Yeah I’ll see you two again…?” she says her voice trailing off in confusion.

You offer her a smile that’s more rehearsed than apologetic. “See you Katie"

If only you knew the kind of problems Katherine would cause later on. Had you realized it then you would’ve wasted no time getting rid of her.

You move through the crowded streets the hum of voices and the scent of street food filling the air. Rafe walks beside you. You feel the heat of the sun on your skin, the sweat starting to gather on your forehead as the midday heat presses in from all sides.

You swipe a hand across your forehead, trying to shake off the discomfort. You’re used to dealing with more dangerous things than the weather but still this heat makes everything feel heavier.

Rafe’s eyes dart from one vendor to the next, scanning the streets like he’s trying to read a map in a language he doesn’t understand. You’ve been walking for what feels like forever fifteen minutes maybe more and you still haven’t found any sign of the markets you’re supposed to be tracking down.

“Nothing"  His jaw tightens as he glances over at you, clearly feeling the same unease.

You glance around the sheer number of people making everything feel like one giant blur of movement. You’re getting nowhere.

The chatter of the crowd seems to get louder in your head every voice blending into a dull hum. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re wasting time, time you don’t have to spare.

You look at Rafe noticing the slight furrow in his brow. He’s still scanning, still working, but his frustration is palpable now. It’s hard to miss the way his shoulders are tense, his hand slightly brushing the handle of the gun hidden beneath his jacket.

“That bitch is good” he scoffs

But then you spot Diego leaving a store with another man. You gently tap Rafe’s arm, tilting your head towards them.

He follows your gaze, slowly lowering his sunglasses, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene. After a moment, his voice is low

“Diego” he mutters “kinda looks like Shoupe.”

You look at him. “Shoupe…?”

“Yeah" Rafe says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t tell me you don’t see it?”

Slowly the two of you make your way closer stepping off the main street and into a narrow alley where a small butcher shop stands. It looks oddly pristine for this part of island, almost too perfect. The walls are a fresh, bright white, and the counters gleam with that polished shine only something expensive can have. The glass display is full of various cuts of meat, neatly arranged in perfect rows, almost artfully laid out. It’s the kind of shop that looks more like an upscale restaurant than a local butcher.

You reach for the door but just as you do, something catches your eye. A small “Closed” sign dangles from the handle.

Rafe lets out a frustrated chuckle shaking his head. “These fuckers.”

“Do you think they’re hiding drugs?”

Rafe glances around quickly, his eyes narrowing as he steps up to the door. He peers through the crack, trying to get a glimpse of the inside, but it’s no use. He steps back and gives a resigned shrug his voice quieter now. “Or something worse.”

“Can I help you two?” A gravelly voice cuts through the air making both you and Rafe turn around.

A tall, bulky man stands behind you now, not quite as tall as Rafe, but still imposing. He’s dressed head to toe in black, his eyes hard as he glares at both of you. Rafe notices the gun tucked into his waistband, the silhouette of it just visible beneath his shirt, and the earpiece dangling from his ear.

He doesn’t miss a beat his smile easy and casual as he steps forward. “We were just passing by, thought we’d grab some meat.”

You follow his lead, glancing at the gun as you speak trying to seem disinterested.

“It’s closed, as you can see.” The man’s voice is icy, his tone sharper than before.

Rafe nods, his expression unfazed, and gestures toward the sign with a shrug. “Yeah I saw that. But can I ask why? I mean it’s the middle of the day.”

The guard’s lips twitch just slightly, as if the question bothers him more than he lets on. You decide to press your luck, adding in your own comment with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah it’s strange. The meat looks so fresh too.”

The guard sneers, his eyes narrowing as he steps closer. “It’s closed and it’s none of your business” he snaps.

“Woah man, we were just asking.” Rafe’s tone shift dropping slightly as he raises his hands in mock surrender. He gestures toward you. “She’s pregnant and craving some lamb.”

You instinctively place a hand on your stomach, and the guard’s eyes flick down to it. His gaze lingers for a heartbeat longer than comfortable.

“Not my problem.” The guard’s voice is cold, clipped. “The restaurants are open. Go there and order food.”

Rafe’s hand twitches, a near subtle movement toward the gun tucked under his jacket. You catch it, a warning pulse of tension in the air. 

You act immediately, reaching for his hand to stop him. “Let’s just go baby" you say softly, keeping your voice calm. You give him a reassuring squeeze, guiding him away from the guard.

You can feel the weight of the man’s stare on your backs, but you keep your eyes straight ahead refusing to look behind. As you both walk away the faint click of his earpiece sounds behind you.

“Nosy tourists" he mutters under his breath, “nothing suspicious… yet.”

“That fucking asshole" Rafe mutters, his voice laced with irritation as he strides ahead of you. He stops and turns back, his eyes narrowing. “We have to get in there.”

“Calm down James Bond. We will" you reply, removing your sunglasses with a casual flick of your wrist.

Just as you’re about to take a step forward a body suddenly crashes into yours knocking you off balance and sending you straight into Rafe’s arms. You’re barely able to steady yourself as his hands grip your waist to keep you from falling.

“Lo siento señora" the stranger mumbles, his words thick with an accent, his hands still awkwardly placed on you as if apologizing for the collision.

Rafe’s grip tightens on you, and you feel the heat of his chest against your back. “Watch where you’re going, asshole" he snaps. 

You feel the moment shift your breath catching in your throat as your gaze involuntarily meets Rafe’s. You make the mistake of looking up, and suddenly, his eyes lock with yours. His face is inches from yours, his gaze intense and unwavering. His breath hitches just a fraction of a second, and you can almost hear the pounding of your heart.

For a moment, neither of you move, both of you suspended in that quiet space, the world around you forgotten. His eyes seem to reach deeper, reading you, searching you… and you feel something stir beneath your skin that you can’t quite explain.

His gaze traces the curve of your nose, then drifts down to your eyes watching the way they seem to sparkle in the sunlight, a brightness that makes him pause for a split second. Pretty, he thinks to himself though he doesn’t let it show.

“Lo siento mucho" the man apologizes again his voice softer now as he steps back.

You quickly pull yourself from Rafe’s arms, turning to face the stranger. “No te preocupes está bien" you reply smoothly offering him a reassuring smile. The man nods and grins, then turns to leave still apologizing under his breath.

Rafe watches you walk away, his eyes widening in realization. “Wait-wait, you knew Spanish the whole time? And you let me suffer trying to figure out what the staff were saying?”

You smirk walking past him with a casual air. Just as you pass a table with a vendor selling sweets, you slip your hand out and grab a lollipop, unwrapping and popping it into your mouth with a teasing look.

“I can’t say I didn’t enjoy seeing you suffer" you say with a sly smile, the candy crunching between your teeth.

Rafe chuckles softly, shaking his head as he reaches for more candy, slipping it into his pocket as he falls into step behind you.

You and Rafe wake early sunlight already brightening the room. After a quick breakfast and planning session, you both get dressed polished and expensive, as always and head out. The goal is clear: Bojan’s market. Thankfully you manage to leave the house without running into Katherine which already feels like a small victory.

As you approach the market, its polished exterior stands out against the surrounding buildings. The spotless windows and well-maintained signage scream wealth

You take a quick glance at the cashier through the glass door a boy who can’t be older than twenty five. He’s slouched behind the counter, headphones in, scrolling on his phone without a care in the world.

“It’s a boy" you mutter under your breath to Rafe.

“Yours to deal with" Rafe replies casually, giving you a pointed look.

You let out a small sigh before loosening your hair, letting it fall naturally around your shoulders. A quick glance down at your shirt, and you unbutton just enough to show a tasteful hint of cleavage.

When you look up, Rafe is staring an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“What?” you ask defensively, smoothing out your shirt.

“Nothing" he says but there’s a teasing tone in his tone.

“Just focus on your part okay?”

“I always do” he says with a shrug, already scanning the market layout for potential weak points.

Rafe pulls out his phone, dialing Kelce. The line barely rings before Kelce’s voice comes through smug and overly chipper.

“Mr. Starkey always a pleasure to hear from you,” Kelce greets his tone practically dripping with sarcasm.

Rafe closes his eyes briefly, already regretting the call. “Don’t start Kelce. Did you loop the camera feed?”

There’s a pause the sound of rapid typing in the background before Kelce responds. “Yeah the video’s looping. You’re good to go. Store’s blind for the next twenty minutes.”

“Good.” he nods glancing toward the store as he ends the call. He tilts his head slightly in your direction. “We’re clear.”

Hanging up, he slides his phone back into his pocket and turns to you. “I’ll go in first. Give me thirty seconds, then follow.”

 “Got it.”

Rafe smirks faintly before stepping toward the door, slipping into character as if it’s second nature.

The cashier barely looks up as Rafe walks past him his attention still glued to his phone. With a roll of his eyes, Rafe makes his way toward the fridges, casually humming to himself.

Then he hears the door open behind him.

You step inside your heels clicking on the smooth floor, the sound sharp against the otherwise quiet market. You don’t look at the cashier, but you can feel his eyes on you. It’s almost too easy.

As you make your way through the aisles you glance back over your shoulder. The moment you catch his gaze his face flushes red. You smile, letting him stew in the moment. This is going exactly as planned.

You pick up a couple of chocolates from a shelf and make your way to the counter. The moment you step up, the boy stands up so fast his chair nearly topples over.

“Hi" you say sweetly, keeping your tone light and friendly your smile sharp. His eyes immediately dart down to your cleavage before snapping back up to your face. You notice the way his throat works as he gulps.

“I’m having a hard time deciding. Maybe you could be a good boy and tell me which one is better?” You give him a soft smile, watching as his eyes flicker between you and the chocolates.

From the earpiece in your ear, you hear Rafe’s amused chuckle. “Don’t let him wet his pants" he teases.

You smile, barely holding back a laugh.

As Rafe watches the guy’s attention stay fixed on you, he moves swiftly toward the staff room. Quietly, he tests the door handle. Locked.

A curse slips from his lips as he pulls out the pin lock from his pocket. His fingers work quickly, the lock clicking open within seconds.

He glances over his shoulder at you, still engaged in conversation with the boy his smile wide and distracted.

With a quiet push Rafe slips into the staff room. The moment the door swings open, a sharp unpleasant smell hits him. He wrinkles his nose but pushes forward, his eyes scanning the room. The space is cramped, filled with boxes of various sizes, all stacked haphazardly on shelves and the floor. 

Rafe pulls out his phone, snapping quick photos of the scene. His gaze drifts over the cluttered shelves as he moves toward the closest box. He pulls out his knife, expertly slicing the tape on the top and peering inside. Chips. Just chips.

A frown crosses his face as he cuts open the other end. Same thing. Chips.

Rafe checks another box, the third one, but it’s the same. Frustration edges his thoughts. Just when he’s about to move on, something catches his attention. A package of chips, but the label is odd half of it is covered with a red square.

Curiosity piqued he opens the box and pulls one of the bags out. As he holds it, a small chuckle escapes him. There’s no crunch, no weight of chips. He rips the bag open, it is packed with powder-cocaine, LSD, and a few other drugs.

“Of course" Rafe mutters under his breath. He takes a handful of the chips, concealing them in his jacket and carefully tapes the bag back shut. Moving to the next box which is slightly bigger

he opens it to find a different kind of surprise. This one is filled with guns, neatly stacked their cold steel gleaming in the dim light.

He scoffs muttering another curse. He moves quickly to the set of fridges at the back. As he opens one the door creaks loudly the noise echoing through the small storage room.

The boy’s head jerks toward the staff room as he hears the sound. “Uh did you hear that?” he asks his voice tinged with suspicion.

You smile sweetly running your fingers through your hair, leaning slightly toward him. “Hear what?”

He glances back at you, looking flustered. “Sorry just wait here. I need to check something-"

You cut him off with a playful tilt of your head, quickly sliding your hand over his. “But I thought you’d be more interested in my number"

your fingers barely grazing his skin, making him freeze, caught off guard.

“Y-your number?” 

“Good job angel. Keep him occupied" Rafe murmurs. He moves toward the fridge, his fingers brushing against the bottles. Three of them. All covered. He picks one up, its label unreadable, then pops it open. The smell hits him instantly, and he recoils, nearly gagging. This definitely wasn’t cherry.

With a grimace he slams the fridge door shut, his eyes scanning the room as he works. He places trackers in the boxes, carefully hiding them among the stacks of goods, ensuring they won’t be noticed.

Once done, he exits the back room his eyes flicking toward the counter where you’re still talking to the boy. He mutters under his breath “I’m done.”

You, now fully in character flash him a quick smile. “Oh I have to go now I’m late for something.” You grab the chocolates and wave your hand dismissively at the boy your lips curling into a playful grin.

“But you didn’t give me your num-”

You cut him off with a nonchalant shrug not even turning around. “Yeah call me.” Your voice carries over your shoulder as you start walking away.

He watches, dumbfounded muttering to himself “And you didn’t pay…”

As you stride forward Rafe effortlessly falls into step beside you.

“Did you find anything?” you ask keeping your tone casual

He nods his jaw tight, his expression darkening. “Yeah something unexpected. But let’s head home first.”

The moment you step through the door though, your eyes flicker to the corner. And there she is. Katie coming closer

 Without a second thought you close the door swiftly blocking her out.

You don’t have the time or energy for her nonsense right now.

Rafe flings the chips onto the table, one bag already open. As they scatter, you watch in silence as the contents fall out. Little packets of white powder mixed with the debris of the chips. Right next to them, several bottles of juice tumble onto the table. Your eyes flicker back and forth between the items

You pick up one of the drug packets and inspect it carefully “He isn’t as sly as he thinks" you mutter your fingers brushing over the contents.

Rafe still standing, lets out a low huff before grabbing one of the juice bottles from the pile tosses it in your direction. “Open this" 

You glance at him slightly confused before looking back down at the bottle. You open it with a quick twist, and as you bring it to your nose to sniff a wave of foul stench assaults your senses. The liquid smells rotten, sharp and sour, making your stomach turn. You quickly pull it away from your face the smell still lingering in your nostrils.

"What the fuck"

You hold it up in front of you, staring at the thick dark liquid swirling inside. “Is this… fucking blood?” you ask your voice barely above a whisper as you try to make sense of it. The red liquid inside is too familiar, like the blood you’ve seen spilled during your missions.

"Call Wes and Shoupe"

“Blood you say?” Wes repeats his voice tinged with disbelief as his face and Shoupe’s appear on your laptop screen.

Rafe nods his expression grim. “Yeah guns, drugs, I planted trackers so you can track the shipment. But there’s also the blood.”

He holds up the glass, the dark red liquid sloshing ominously inside. Wes and Shoupe exchange a look clearly unsettled.

“We’re not sure if it’s animal or human but…” You pause. Your fingers tap lightly against the edge of the desk, the uncertainty hanging in the air. 

“You need to get into that butcher shop tonight,” Shoupe says, his voice firm, as he leans in closer to the screen. “We need confirmation on whether it’s human or animal blood. Both have different implications, but we need to know for sure.”

Rafe leans back in his chair, his expression hardening. “Do you think the blood’s tied to some ritualistic bullshit, or is it being mixed with drugs?” He drags out the words, his tone hinting at the frustration building inside him.

Wes removes his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he sighs. “Honestly it could be for any number of things. Drugs, organ trafficking, ritualistic cults, black market dealings, even twisted experiments. The possibilities are endless.” His eyes narrow slightly as he glances at the image on the screen. “And all of them are bad news.”

“Get into the butcher shop and find everything" Shoupe instructs his voice sharp and direct. “Take pictures, plant a small camera whatever you can.”

Wes’s voice follows equally urgent. “We didn’t find much on Diego Gomez’s phone but keep an eye on him. He’s been seen with Bojan practically everywhere.”

You and Rafe both nod in agreement, but as the call ends, you find yourself staring at your own reflection in the dark screen of the laptop. 

The laptop screen flickers before a photo of JJ’s ridiculous grinning face fills the frame, making you groan audibly. Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do we have to answer this again?” he mutters.

You sigh. “Im gonna regret this.”

“HI LOVE BIRDS!” JJ yells his voice way too loud, as Topper shoves him aside to get in the frame.

“Hi babies!” Topper chimes in waving enthusiastically.

“Move I wanna see—”

“Why is Rafe’s big ass head taking up the whole screen?

“Guys stop" 

“I’m hanging up-" Rafe starts reaching for the laptop.

“Wait wait just ignore them" Pope cuts him off, stepping into view as he waves the others out of the frame. “We called for a reason. Something’s come up.”

Rafe leans back, crossing his arms, his scowl deepening. “This better be good.”

"I just sent this to Shoupe and Wes" Pope clears his throat and adjusts the mic. “While I was digging into Bojan's finances, I found a few connections I wasn’t expecting. He’s been funding a… specialized facility just outside the city. It’s not publicized, but it’s labeled as dealing with ‘biological preservation.’”

You furrow your brows. “What does that even mean?”

“That’s the thing. It’s vague. No published research, no university partnerships, nothing you’d usually associate with a legitimate facility. And the shipments they’re processing? They’re marked as ‘biological materials.’ High-value. Temperature-controlled. Fragile. Weirdly secretive.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens. “So what, you think it’s some underground science experiment?”

Pope hesitates before responding, his tone more serious. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something shady about the setup. The permits for the shipments are incomplete, and there are inconsistencies in the manifests like they’re deliberately hiding what’s being moved.”

“What’s actually in the shipments?” you ask leaning forward slightly.

“I don’t have solid proof yet" Pope admits, glancing off-screen as if checking his notes. “But from what I’ve pieced together they’re moving something valuable enough to require extreme secrecy and heavy security.”

Rafe narrows his eyes at the screen. “And Diego’s involved?”

“Definitely" Pope confirms. “His phone’s been tracked near the facility multiple times. He’s clearly tied to whatever operation Bojan’s running there. Look I’m still piecing it together, but all the roads keep leading back to this ‘preservation facility."

“Got it" you say finally, your voice steadier than you feel.

“Just… be careful" Pope adds. 

 Sarah’s face suddenly fills the frame. “HEY YOU GUYS!” she screams practically bouncing with excitement when she spots you both.

You can’t help but smile at her energy. “Hi Sarah" you say warmly.

Behind her, John B appears his hand resting casually on her waist. Rafe’s eyes narrow immediately, his head tilting slightly as if to get a better look.

“Wait a damn second- why is he touching you like that?” Rafe blurts his tone sharp.

Sarah freezes, her eyes going wide as she glances nervously at John B. Before anyone can respond JJ’s voice booms from somewhere off screen loud and obnoxious "BECAUSE THEY’RE FUCKING!”

And just like that the call cuts out, leaving you staring at the blank, black reflection of the laptop screen.

"I'm going to kill that boy" Rafe growls, 

You arch an eyebrow, crossing your arms.

"Pretty sure you've done enough damage already" 

You tighten the small bag around your wrist, double-checking everything.

Knife.

Pills.

Injections.

Camera.

Everything’s in place. You pull your ponytail tighter, the strands pulling against your scalp as you turn toward Rafe. He’s focused, loading the guns with a calm precision. You extend your hand and without a word he hands you a weapon.

You glance down at the gun, then back at him, raising a brow. “Why do I get the woman’s gun?”

Rafe looks at you, a mix of confusion and irritation in his eyes. “Just take it" he mutters, clearly not in the mood for a back and forth.

You shake your head smirking as you hand the gun back to him. Swiftly you reach for his, tucking it behind you in one fluid motion. You straighten up and look him dead in the eyes

“I’m ready.”

Rafe shakes his head muttering under his breath as he tosses your gun into the closet with a soft clink then grabs another one from the rack.

It’s midnight, dead quiet. Not a single light flickers in any of the houses around you. The streets are empty, not even a car passing by. Just the stillness of the night.

You and Rafe slip out of the house, moving like slowly, careful not to make a sound. Every step is calculated every movement deliberate. No one can know you’re here.

The shop is close now, just a few blocks away. You pause, holding up your hand to signal Rafe to stop. You’re waiting on Kelce’s confirmation that the cameras are down. The seconds stretch, every movement feeling like it’s happening in slow motion. Then, a soft beep in your earpiece.

“Cameras are off. You’re clear" Kelce’s voice crackles through.

You notice a guard standing in front of the door his attention fixed elsewhere. He's alone. You turn to Rafe giving him a quick subtle hand signal- left for him, right for you. Without a word, he nodded and the two of you silently split up.

You pull out the injection from your bag, feeling the weight of it in your hand as you moved toward the guard, making sure your footsteps were quiet on the ground. You stay low, the shadows providing some cover as you closed the distance.

Once you were close enough you glance at Rafe who had positioned himself just out of sight. His eyes meet yours and with a brief silent nod, you both move in unison. You approache the guard from behind, your steps calculated, and with a quick motion, you press the needle into his neck. The sharp jab went unnoticed, and in moments, the sedative took effect.

You cover his mouth to stifle any noise as his body went slack and with Rafe’s help, you lowered him to the ground, ensuring he didn’t make a sound. You'll place him inside later 

Rafe let out a quiet sigh, scanning the area around him. His eyes settled on a small device on top of the door. With a quick practiced motion, he placed another device on top securing it in place.

A few tense seconds passed the air thick with anticipation. Then a faint static buzz came through the earpiece followed by Pope’s voice. “Alarm’s off" he says

You didn’t need to hear anything more. Without a word, you reach into your pocket and pulled out the pin locket. You didn’t hesitate your fingers working quickly and efficiently as you set to unlocking the door, the soft clicks of the mechanism the only sound as you focused, determined to get inside.

You step into the shop, the door creaking softly.  as you ease it open. Everything seems fine nothing suspicious. The dim light of the hallway does little to reveal any immediate threat.

You then go grab the guard, and put him in the chair behind the counter. This will do. Rafe glances at you, his eyes flicking to the door on the left. Without a word, he motions toward it. “I’ll check this one. You take the other.”

You nod moving toward the opposite door. As soon as you open it, a cold draft hits you, and the darkness swallows you whole. You fumble for your flashlight, clicking it on, but the second the beam cuts through the shadows, the stench hits you a disgusting one, choking odor that makes your stomach turn.

You wince and pull your shirt up over your nose, but it’s no use. The smell is overpowering. The light moves forward, pigs, lambs, cows all hanging from the ceiling, their bodies skinned clean, heads severed. 

Your stomach churns violently, but you force yourself to look away from the grotesque sight. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood, and it clings to your skin. The smell is unbearable, stinging your nose, and you fight to keep from gagging. 

Rafe’s voice crackles through your earpiece. “Can’t find shit just files.”

You hum in response. “Keep looking for what Pope told us. Maybe you’ll find their payment records.”

“On it" Rafe replies, the determination in his voice unmistakable despite the irritation.

You reach for your gun gripping it tightly. Slowly, you move to your left, scanning the dim room. The quiet is almost suffocating, the only sound being the soft shuffle of your footsteps on the floor. You pause, then turn your head to the right the beam of the flashlight cutting through the darkness.

As your light glides across the room, you catch sight of a row of knives, their blades gleaming coldly in the faint light. Then, at the far end of the room something catches your attention. A wall, almost blending into the surroundings, but covered with a heavy set of plastic curtains. A soft, eerie blue light spills from behind it flickering like a warning.

You step closer, the foul stench growing stronger with every step. Holding your gun in one hand, you pull aside the plastic curtains, wincing as the harsh blue light floods your vision, making your eyes ache.

Inside the space, the scene unfolds

knives, industrial fridges, and the bottles Rafe had found earlier, all arranged methodically. The cold inside hits you like a wall, much colder than the room you’d just left, making your body shiver involuntarily.

“Win, I found some payments" Rafe’s voice comes through, but you barely hear him. Your focus is consumed by what’s in front of you.

You set your gun down on the table, fingers itching as you approach one of the fridges. You tug at the door, but it’s sealed tight. Locked. Motherfucker.

You pull a pin lock from your pocket, with swift, practiced movements you set to work. Ten seconds. The lock clicks open. You don’t hesitate yanking the door open, but the moment it swings wide, the smell hits you like a punch to the gut. The contents inside make your stomach churn violently, and you almost throw up right there.

It’s worse than you imagined.

But that’s nothing compared to what you see inside.

You almost scream.

You’ve killed more than you care to count, as an assassin, you’ve seen the darkest sides of humanity but this? This is a whole different level. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at the stacked lungs, at least fifty of them neatly arranged, each one a grim reminder of lives stolen. Your knees weaken beneath you and for a moment the room spins.

You force yourself to look closer, your gaze falling to the label on top of the lungs: 48 hours.

“Angel?”

You shake yourself out of the haze, turning toward the other fridges. You unlock the other one. Livers. The next? Kidneys. They’re all here lined up, cold, and lifeless.

“Angel what happened?” Rafe asks again his voice urgent now and you can hear the sound of something shifting in the background.

“Rafe… they’re fucking organ trafficking" you say the words bitter in your mouth your voice shaky as you fight the bile rising in your throat. “Their fridges are stacked with kidneys, livers… everything.”

Rafe doesn’t waste a second. He grabs the files and bolts out of the office, moving quickly toward the next room. As he enters, he instinctively covers his nose, the stench from the fridges unbearable.

“Where are you?” 

You answer, and without hesitation, he follows the faint blue glow of the light, his steps quickening as he approaches the source.

When he finally steps inside, he freezes. His eyes dart to the open fridges the sight before him enough to stun him into silence. The shock is palpable as he takes in the rows of organs the reality of what you’d uncovered hitting him all at once.

“This man is sick" you mutter disgust clear in your voice as you pull out your phone, snapping photos of the gruesome scene. The weight of the horror still presses on your chest, but you force yourself to focus, capturing every detail.

Rafe swallows hard doing his best to block out the stench that clings to the air, his expression grim as he works. He places a tracker and a bug just outside one of the fridges, hiding them with precision, making sure they’re undetectable.

Once you’ve taken the last of the photos, you step back closing the fridge doors and locking them again.

“Are you okay?” Rafe asks his voice softer now. You glance at him, the dim blue light casting sharp shadows across his face. The concern in his eyes cuts through the tension, but you hold yourself together.

You nod, your voice steady, though the disgust lingers in your gut. “Yeah… just disgusted.”

“Shit" Rafe mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes zero in on the bulky man from yesterday striding toward the store.

You glance over and immediately stiffen, a wave of annoyance and adrenaline crashing through you. “Why the hell is he here?” you bite out

Rafe’s response is immediate. He reaches for his gun the metallic click echoing softly in the tense silence. “I’ll disconnect the device. You cover our tracks, we’re out through the office window.”

There’s no room for argument. Both of you move like a well-oiled machine. Rafe's hands are steady as he works on dismantling the device. Meanwhile you scour the room grabbing a crumpled newspaper from a drawer. It’s a weak cover, but it’ll do. You slip it into the sleeping guard’s hands, carefully arranging it to look like he’s been dozing off during his shift.

“Done" Rafe murmurs, straightening as he pockets the device.

Without a word, he turns and grips your shoulders his touch firm but steering you towards the office.

You shrug him off with a glare. “I know where the fucking office is.”

“Then stop wasting time" he shoots back his voice clipped. His focus is razor sharp, but you don’t miss the flicker of amusement in his eyes. Even now he can’t resist pushing your buttons.

“Let’s wait until he shuts off the alarm" Rafe whispers in your ear his breath warm and deliberate against your skin. You nod silently, keeping your eyes trained on the man approaching the store.

The bulky figure slows as he reaches the storefront, his expression twisting into disdain when he spots the guard slumped over fast asleep.

With an irritated scoff the man punches in the code on the keypad, the faint beep of the alarm deactivating breaking the tense silence. The door creaks open, and he strides inside his irritation radiating like a stormcloud.

“What the fuck is your problem?” he barks, kicking the chair out from under the groggy guard. The sudden jolt sends the man jerking awake disoriented and blinking in confusion.

“Wha- where am I?” the guard mumbles his voice thick with sleep.

“Where are you? This is the second time I’ve caught you sleeping on the job. Are you trying to get yourself killed or are you just that useless?”

“Now" Rafe whispers, his hand gripping the window handle.

You grab his wrist before he can move, your eyes snapping toward the door as a shadow shifts just outside. Without a word, you yank him behind a nearby closet, pressing yourself against the wall as the space barely fits the two of you.

Rafe raises an eyebrow, clearly about to make some snide remark, but you silence him with a finger pressed firmly to his lips. His brow furrows slightly, then lifts in quiet amusement, his smirk teasing at the corners of his mouth.

The door creaks open. The man steps inside scanning the room with sharp eyes. His heavy boots echo softly against the floor. Your heart pounds in your ears as you hold your breath. Rafe’s arm slipping around your waist, tugging you closer.

The silence is heavy, every sound threatening to give you away. Finally the man seems satisfied and steps back out, the door clicking shut behind him.

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and try to step away but Rafe doesn’t let you go. His arm remains firmly around your waist, keeping you pressed against him.

“Rafe" you whisper glaring up at him.

He tilts his head his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Admit it. You liked that a little too much.”

Your jaw tightens heat rising to your cheeks. “Let go of me" you hiss trying to push at his chest but he doesn’t budge.

“Not until you admit it" he says, leaning closer, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Rafe" you growl under your breath, but his smirk only widens "We have to leave"

“You’re not denying it" 

“Because it’s ridiculous" you snap, finally managing to shove him off. He releases you with a quiet chuckle 

As you straighten and move toward the window, his voice follows you, soft but maddeningly smug. “For the record" he drawls "I wouldn’t mind hiding with you like that, again"

You whip around to glare at him, but he’s already moving toward the window, acting as if nothing had happened leaving you silently fuming, and a little flustered.

Rafe climbs out first landing smoothly before turning back to hold the window open. His hand extends toward you palm up, a confident smirk playing on his lips.

You narrow your eyes your glare sharp enough to cut. Ignoring his outstretched hand entirely you swing yourself through the window, landing gracefully beside him without so much as glancing his way.

Rafe looks at you then down at his outstretched hand his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. He scratches the back of his head, a slow chuckle escaping his lips.

“Okay"

You walked ahead of Rafe, as always, his steady footsteps following you. The silence between you two was oddly comforting, and for a brief moment you actually found yourself enjoying it.

That is, until your eyes landed on your damn redheaded neighbor.

You muttered under your breath "Deal with your fan" as you pushed open the gate and started toward the door your steps quickening with annoyance.

Rafe let out a long exasperated sigh, his eyes squeezing shut as he caught sight of Kathleen. She gasped dramatically when she saw you pass by without so much as a glance, but her face instantly lit up the moment her gaze shifted to Rafe.

“Drew hi!” she called out her voice high pitched and cheerful.

Rafe’s mind immediately raced as he watched her, his thoughts a mix of confusion and disbelief. It’s 1 AM, for god’s sake what is she doing wandering around at this hour?

“Hey Kathleen" Rafe says with a tired grin, not even bothering to hide his annoyance.

“Katherine"

“Right Katherine" Rafe mutters, rolling his eyes. “Nice catching up with you-"

Before he can finish, her eyes widen, and she interrupts. “So what were you two doing? Just walking around at this hour?”

Rafe halts mid-step turning slowly to look at her an eyebrow quirked. “I could ask you the same thing" 

She waves her hand dismissively, laughing lightly. “Oh I was just at my friend’s place, borrowing a springform pan. I’m making a cheesecake lemon cheesecake to be exact.”

She keeps going hardly pausing for breath. “Andrea invited us over for dinner tomorrow thought I’d bring something sweet. Mr. Banovic will be there too, don’t know if you’ve met him.”

Rafe who was about to open the gate, stops. He turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “Mr. Banovic huh? Yeah I know him.”

Katherine doesn’t seem to notice his sudden shift rambling on. “Yeah so she invited us, half of the neighborhood actually. Do you like cheesecake, Drew?”

Rafe smiles. “I actually love it.”

Your eyes narrow as you watch Rafe smile at her- smile. That warm, effortless, pretty smile. It makes your stomach twist but you don’t want to admit it. You’re regretting stepping inside now.

“The conversation can’t be that interesting" you mutter to yourself trying to push down the discomfort gnawing at you. “Whatever.”

As much we you want to shut the curtain and block it all out. But you can’t look away. Not when she places her hand on his shoulder so casually, so familiar. And when he doesn’t immediately move it your chest tightens.

You scoff, trying to mask the feeling creeping up on you. “I mean she’s literally flirting with a married man. What’s wrong with her?”

It’s not jealousy. You refuse to admit that. You’re just… uncomfortable with how she’s trying to wedge herself between a marriage.

A fake marriage. But she doesn’t know that.

The moment Rafe turns, you quickly slam the curtain shut hoping he didn’t catch you staring. But you know him too well. Nothing gets past him.

Without a second thought, you throw yourself onto the bed yanking the blanket over you. You don’t want to deal with him right now. 

Rafe opens the door a small smirk tugging at his lips. For once that damn redhead proved to be useful.

His gaze shifts to you lying on the bed. You’re already in your cute silk blue pajamas, your back turned to him looking peaceful beneath the blanket. A soft smile curves his lips as he watches you.

He’d seen you just thirty seconds ago at the window.

He quietly removes his gun tucking it away, and then removes his t-shirt, slipping into a pair of shorts. Rafe moves to the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight as he settles beside you.

The room is draped in darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the kitchen window. It’s not much, but it’s enough for him to make out the silhouette of your body, the soft rise and fall of your breath beneath the blanket.

A minute passes. Then another. The silence stretches between you both, heavy and unanswered. Why aren’t you asking him about what she said? If you think he’s going to be the one to break the silence, you’re dead wrong-

“She invited us to Andrea’s dinner. Bojan’s going to be there" Finally Rafe lets out a soft sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

You don’t respond.

He blinks, about to repeat himself, when he feels you turn over to face him.

“Why would she invite us to someone else’s dinner?” you ask your voice thick with confusion.

Rafe forces himself to look away, a smile threatening at the corner of his lips. Don’t look at her… don’t look at her.

"We at least got the invite. Who cares if she’s a little weird?” His gaze flicks to you, the soft light from the window casting a glow on one side of your face.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades. “No like in general, she’s weird" you say, the words coming out almost reluctantly. “She’s passive aggressive with me…”

"Really?

You raise an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a quiet intensity. “And she’s obsessed with you and she definitely doesn’t like me. She called my outfit scandalous earlier today.”

He sighs unable to hide the slight grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth now. “She has a funny way of showing it.”

You pout, shifting to lie on your back, staring up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t scandalous. I looked pretty today.”

 “You definitely did.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you murmur, “Thank you.”

“I thought you fell asleep" Rafe says, settling back and slipping his arms under his head with a relaxed sigh.

You roll your eyes, your voice soft. “…I was dozing off until you showed up.”

He chuckles liar. “You were at the window.”

Caught. You try to shrug it off, a half laugh escaping you. “Well for like two seconds then I left. She’s crazy. I wanted to see what she's doing"

He pushes himself up, propping himself up on his elbow as he turns to look at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

You let out a dry chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Why would I be jealous?”

He tilts his head, as if pondering. “Hmm… it’s a long list but the first reason would be because she likes me.”

Your brows furrow, a hint of frustration creeping in. “What are you hinting at?”

Mimicking his pose, you lean on your elbow, facing him. He grins the kind of grin that makes your blood boil in all the wrong ways. “You’re smart. Figure it out yourself.”

Oh how you wanted to punch his pretty face.

“I don’t think you realize just how angry you make me" 

Rafe’s grin only widens, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Aw I have that effect on you?”

“You don’t even deserve a good night" you mutter, turning your back to him as you settle into the bed. “I hope you die in your sleep.”

Rafe bursts out laughing, the sound annoyingly warm and amused. “Sweet dreams to you too, angel"

You press your lips together, smoothing out the dark red lipstick you’d just applied. Perfect. The rich color added a striking touch to your look, bold without overdoing it.

It was nearing 6 p.m., which meant it was almost time to head to Andrea’s house. You were just waiting on Rafe, who had gone to pick up a bottle of wine.

You had opted for a simple yet elegant black dress, a sleek sleeveless design, the neckline cut but connected with a trio of bows along, hugging your figure in all the right places. Your hair was pulled back into a slick ponytail. To complete the look, you chose silver bracelets that caught the light just enough and small, understated earrings that added a hint of luxury without being too much.

You take the pie out of the refrigerator, setting it on the counter. You like to pretend you made it yourself, even though the bakery box gave it away.

Rafe walks in just as you’re wrapping the pie. He’s dressed simply in black pants and a tight black t-shirt.

Yeah, tight.

“What took you so long?” you ask trying to ignore how well the shirt fits him.

“Had to pick out an expensive wine-" He pauses mid sentence when his eyes land on you, his gaze lingering just a second too long before he recovers. “-and the line was insane.”

You hum in acknowledgment focusing on the pie, but the heat of his stare doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Uh" he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly looking out of place. “You look pretty.”

Your cheeks warm, and you avoid meeting his eyes. “Thank you. You look good too.”

He grins, that infuriatingly cocky grin. “Yeah, well that’s not hard.”

You roll your eyes fighting the urge to smile. Of course he had to ruin the moment.

Rafe glances at the pie in your hands raising an eyebrow. “When did you make that?”

“This morning" you say smoothly, then shrug with a small grin. “Well the bakery made it but we’re leaving that part out.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he opens the door for you. “You’re unbelievable.”

With a smirk you step outside the cool evening air brushing against your skin as Rafe follows his hand on your back.

“Tonight’s the night" Rafe murmurs, his gaze fixed on the big house as you both draw closer.

You sigh frustration lacing your voice. “We have to dickride him until we get the invite" you mutter, stopping just before the gate.

Rafe winces, his lips tugging into a rueful smile. “By the end of this, I’ll be lucky if I have any pride left at all.”

The door swings open, and Andrea steps outside with a warm smile. “Jane, Drew welcome!” she says wrapping her arms around both of you in a friendly embrace.

“Hi Andrea" you reply with a grin. “Thank you again for the invite.”

Andrea waves off your gratitude. “Oh it’s nothing. Come inside dear.”

As you both step over the threshold, you’re momentarily taken aback by the sheer size and luxury of the house. It’s so grand that you almost gasp in awe.

“Starkey" Diego calls out his eyes landing on Rafe. Without missing a beat, he strides forward and pulls Rafe into a tight hug.

“Hey man” Rafe says, giving Diego a friendly pat on the shoulder.

You smile, but your gaze shifts to Katherine, and the smile fades as a surge of irritation washes over you.

That bitch lied. Andrea had wanted to invite you both from the start, but she couldn’t find you at home. So she’d already told Katherine, but Katherine made it seem like she was the one who extended the invite just to get closer to Rafe.

And suddenly, the urge to hurt her just a little, was overwhelming.

You take Rafe’s hand gently pulling him closer. He meets your gaze for a moment before resting his hand on your waist, his touch warm as he hands Andrea the glass of wine. 

“I also made this for you" you say offering Andrea the pie you’d 'prepared' 

The blonde's face lights up with delight. “You didn’t have to, but thank you so much. Please head to the dining room. Katie, can you show them the way?”

Katie’s smile is tight as she gestures for you to follow her. You walk with Rafe at your side, his presence grounding, though your eyes wander as you take in the sheer size of the house. The dining room is massive, far bigger than you expected. The long table stretches across the room, easily seating over fifteen people. 

You spot him immediatel Bojan. Seated at the head of the table, laughing with someone beside him. He looks exactly like the photos you’ve studied but in person, there’s an edge to him that the pictures didn’t capture. His presence fills the room like everyone is drawn to him without question without doubt. It’s not just power it’s control. You squeeze Rafe’s hand. There’s no hesitation, no hint of nervousness. 

You take your seat, positioning yourself somewhat in the middle. Every eye in the room seems drawn to him and the weight of the moment hits you all at once. Andrea steps in, Diego at her side, and with a sharp clap of her hands, she commands the room’s attention. “Thank you all for coming tonight" she says. “A special thank you to Mr. Banović who graciously took the time to join us.”

The sound of applause fills the room, and without thinking, your hands start to clap, the sound hollow in your ears as you force yourself to join in.

Rafe’s gaze doesn’t waver from Bojan, and in that exact moment their eyes meet. Bojan’s smile stretches wider a slow, deliberate thing, and he raises his glass in a silent toast. Rafe responds with a subtle nod his own glass lifting in return.

If only Bojan knew that in the end, Rafe was the one who was about to ruin his life.

As the maids begin placing the plates down, the room fills with the sound of silverware clinking and murmurs of conversation. The guests dive into their dinner, plates being passed around as everyone chats with each other. Rafe sitting across the table turns to Diego who’s seated near Bojan.

“I hope you’re feeling better" Rafe says acting concerned 

Diego chuckles shaking his head. “Ah yeah thank God. No more trouble, at least for now" he replies with a grin

Bojan simply stares ahead continuing to eat with his mouth open, chewing loudly and without care. The sight of it almost makes you want to throw your knife at him in frustration.

Patience.

As he chews he nonchalantly gestures with his knife toward Rafe and Diego, his eyes flicking between them. “Who’s the new face?” 

This was it.

“Drew Starkey and that’s his wife Jane" Diego pipes in, Rafe doesn't miss the way Diego’s eyes linger on you. He’ll deal with that later.

“Starkey? That last name sounds familiar" a man next to you says, turning to Rafe.

“Probably because he has his own firm. He’s a luxury estate developer" Diego explains, his smile almost too eager. You both know exactly why he’s so invested in the conversation, because he’s brought a wealthy successful family to the table.

Rafe nods, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah I have my own firm in North Carolina.”

The man beside you perks up, now understanding. “Oh right! I came to your firm when I wanted to design my penthouse in New York.”

You blink, caught off guard. Wait what?

Rafe glances at him just as confused as you are, though neither of you shows it.

“Ali Hassani" the man introduces himself. Rafe quickly acts like he recognizes the name nodding politely.

The truth? This man probably has Rafe confused with someone else entirely, but right now, it’s only working in Rafe’s favor.

“Ah I remember now" Rafe says smoothly, leaning back slightly. “How’s it working out for you? Is it meeting your expectations?”

The couple nods enthusiastically, their faces lighting up. “We absolutely love it" Ali replies. “It’s been perfect for us and for the kids too" his wife adds. “We might even reach out to you again in the future.”

Okay…

“Anytime" 

“What kind of properties do you specialize in?” Bojan asks his tone casual, but his sharp gaze reveals he’s testing Rafe.

Rafe smirks to himself leaning back slightly, exuding calm confidence. Right where I want you.

“High-end residential properties, luxury estates, penthouses, you name it" he says smoothly, tilting his head as if considering his next words. “Lately I’ve been expanding into private islands. Actually just last month, I wrapped up a $5.1 million mansion for-" He pauses turning to you with a raised eyebrow. “Angel remind me- who was it again?”

You don’t miss a beat your lips curling into a sly smile as you meet Bojan’s gaze briefly. “William Harris" you say your tone casual but carrying just enough weight to land the blow. “A London businessman. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him.”

The table falls silent

Oh Bojan has. The faintest flicker of recognition passes through Bojan’s eyes gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but it’s enough to confirm you’ve hit the mark. He sets his fork down slowly, his expression neutral, though the tension in his jaw is unmistakable. During your research, you uncovered the bitter rivalry between him and Harris—a competition over business, wealth, properties, and influence that runs deep.

This was it. The perfect jab. The nail in the coffin.

Rafe doesn’t so much as blink, he leans forward slightly placing his elbows on the table as if to close the distance. His gaze stays steady, unwavering, as a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “It was a pretty low-profile project" he says smoothly. “You didn't hear it from me but pparently Harris is gearing up for something new. He was relentless about every detail, determined. From the way he talked, it’s clear he’s planning something big.”

“Is that so?” he says his eyes narrowing as they lock onto you and Rafe.

Come on, Bojan, you think, watching him carefully. Take the bait. Let it eat at you.

Diego lets out a nervous chuckle, the sound awkward and slightly strained. “Well our man Bojan here has been making new businesses left and right—all successful too.”

But he doesn’t acknowledge him. Instead, he picks up his glass, raising it slightly to signal the maid for more wine. The room falls quiet as the maid hurries over to pour, and you both watch him carefully, noting the controlled movements, the deliberate way he avoids meeting anyone’s gaze.

He takes a sip, his eyes fixed on the glass as he hums thoughtfully, the sound breaking the silence like a subtle warning. “Harris always had expensive taste” he says finally. Then, his gaze lifts, pinning Rafe with precision. “Tell me, Starkey, do you know anything about this… plan of his?”

Before Rafe can respond, you step in smoothly, your voice measured but disinterested, as if the question is barely worth your time. “Art of course. What's the best thing people buy these days?” you say, reaching for some salad without even looking at Bojan. “When he found out I collect pieces, he became very interested. Offered me a generous check but…” You pause letting your words hang in the air as you stab your fork into a cherry tomato. “I’m not too sure. I just don’t trust him. No offense.”

The statement lands like a stone in the quiet room, and you take the opportunity to glance around at the table. The flicker of surprise, curiosity, and unease in their expressions is exactly what you wanted. You chuckle lightly, leaning back in your seat. “But anyway" you say breezily, as if brushing it all aside. “Enough work talk. Let’s dig in.”

Bojan’s lips curl into a smirk, his eyes lingering on you. “You heard the lady" he says his tone laced with amusement as he raises his glass. “Let’s dig in everyone.”

Rafe’s hand slides over yours his fingers curling around yours in a gentle, reassuring squeeze. At this point, the intimacy feels natural like the way you breathe without thinking. You’ve grown used to the affection.

But then you feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you. You look up, and there she is Katherine. Her eyes are fixed on you both cold, her lips pulled into a tight, judgmental line. Bitch.

Without thinking twice you shift closer to Rafe, your side brushing against his as you lean in just a little more, making sure she knows exactly where you stand. You may be pretending, but that doesn’t mean you have to let her think she has a chance with Rafe.

She immediately looks away

After a relaxing dinner filled with light conversation, the group moves to the garden patio. It’s expansive, luxurious no surprise there.

You find yourself standing near the pool, the cool evening air mixing with the soft hum of chatter around you. Andrea stands beside you, her presence calming as always.

“So, how are you enjoying the vacation so far?” 

You smile, looking out over the water. “Good. We really needed this break from work.”

Andrea chuckles softly, nodding in agreement. “Yeah everyone does. Although we don’t exactly live here… this place feels like home to me.” She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath, as if absorbing the serenity of the moment.

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. “How long have you two been married?”

A soft smile tugs at Andrea’s lips as she reflects, her eyes distant for a moment. “Forty years.”

The weight of her words settles in. “I was married when I was 19" she adds quietly, almost as an afterthought, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Marriage is hard" Andrea says with a sigh “I mean, you’ve only been married this year, so you wouldn’t know that much yet. You learn how to be quiet, turn a blind eye, forgive things you never thought you could.” She vents the weight of her words hanging in the air, before she softens her expression. “I really hope marriage is kind to you Jane. You’re a good woman.”

If you only knew.

She doesn’t seem to notice the flicker of something, uncertainty. “But I don’t doubt it. Drew’s amazing too. He really loves you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you freeze for a moment. Have we been that convincing?

Andrea watches you carefully, her eyes softening with understanding. “It’s the way you two look at each other. You can be all annoyed with each other-”

You can say that again.

“-but in the end, it’s the little things that give it away. The smiles after each argument. The little gestures of affection. That’s what shows the love, even when it’s unspoken.”

You swallow unsure of how to respond, you'd be lying if you said her words didnt make your heart flutter 

Andrea laughs touching your ring "And of course this"

You glance at the ring, fake ring. Fake marriage, of course

All of this is fake

“Yeah I really got lucky with this one" you manage to say, though the words feel heavier than they should.

Andrea glances down at her empty glass with a slight groan. “Ugh let me go top this up" she mutters, then pauses, eyeing the room. “And figure out why Katie’s wandering around like that”

You laugh nodding in agreement. “Good luck with that"

As you turn to gaze at the pool, the cool ripples reflecting the dim lights, her words start to sink in.

What looks was she talking about? The way we look at each other hasn’t changed… has it?

Hatred. Annoyance.

That’s all it’s ever been. That’s all it should be.

Right?

But the longer you stare at your reflection, the less certain you feel.

Rafe doesn’t miss the way Bojan and Diego exchange glances towards him, their hushed conversation carrying just enough tension to confirm that everything is going according to plan.

As his gaze drifts back to the drinks he notices the maid reaching for an olive to drop into your martini.

“No without the olive please" he stops her just in time.

The memory flashes through his mind, you casually mentioning how much you hate olives. He isn’t sure why it stuck with him but it did. For some reason, he remembered.

Rafe picks up your martini and his whiskey, his gaze sweeping across the patio until it locks on you. He notices the way your fingers fidget with your bracelet- your tell when nervous.

Without hesitation he starts walking toward you, ignoring the faint call of his name from

Katherine. He doesn’t even glance back. Whatever she wants, it’s irrelevant.

When he reaches you, his arm slides around your shoulder in a smooth motion. He pulls you in close the heat of his touch grounding you as he holds your martini just within reach the movement casual but deliberate.

 “Gracias" you murmur with a faint smirk, grabbing the glass

Rafe rolls his eyes, a quiet scoff escaping him. “Will you ever let that go?” 

“Never" you reply a teasing edge to your voice as you take a sip of your martini.

The conversation fades leaving a comfortable silence between you. The cool night breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the distant hum of conversation from the others.

It feels good. The quiet. The closeness.

This feels good. Too good.

Rafe leans in, his lips brushing just close enough to your ear to send a shiver down your spine. “We did good" he whispers

Your breath hitches and for a second, you swear your knees might give out. “What?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m saying we did good" he repeats, giving you goosebumps. “Bojan and Diego they’re talking about us.”

As you glance over, you spot Bojan heading in your direction. But Rafe doesn't care about him

now. He’s looking at you. His gaze lingers on the way your hair brushes against his face, the faint scent of your perfume catching his attention. You smell good.

“He’s coming" you whisper your breath warm against his jaw, the closeness making your voice barely audible. “We’ll talk to him for a bit, then I’ll slip away to Diego’s room see if I can find anything. Can you keep Bojan occupied long enough?”

“Easy angel” 

“My favorite people" Bojan exclaims with a boisterous laugh as he steps up beside you both

“Please don’t stop the compliments now" you joke waving your hand dramatically, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

To your mild surprise Bojan chuckles, the sound deep and unrestrained. “She’s funny" he says, his eyes briefly scanning you with amusement. “I like her.”

Rafe nods "That makes two of us"

Bojan clears his throat, glancing around. “So I have a proposition for you" 

 “We’re listening"

Bojan flashes a smile his gold tooth gleaming in the soft light. “What if we make a deal?” He leans forward exuding confidence. “I’ve always been a fan of art…”

Got you.

“…and I feel it isn’t appreciated enough these days. I’m sure you, Jane, agree" He gestures toward you and you nod, playing your part perfectly. “I want to buy the pieces you offered Harris. I’ll pay double for them. And if Drew can find me a luxurious condo or an art gallery that would be a perfect fit…”

You pinch Rafe’s hand lightly, sending a subtle signal- we’ve got him now.

Bojan continues his tone taking on an almost syrupy sweetness. “I’ve always loved helping people, especially kids.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens at the words his impulse to punch Bojan rising, but he swallows it down, knowing the game they’re playing.

Bojan leans back his expression taking on a hint of sincerity, though it’s all fake. “So when I buy your pieces- and I’ll sell them of course seventy percent of the proceeds will go to charity. A charity for kids in need" He says it with such heartfelt conviction, it’s clear he’s trying to sell you on the idea that his intentions are pure.

Bojan leans forward, his voice full of excitement. “Think about it"

You turn to Rafe your expression softening. “Hm, what do you think baby?” you ask 

Rafe pauses for a moment pretending to weigh the offer, then looks back at you his voice dripping with uncertainty. “I mean it is a pretty good deal, right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod slowly, playing along. “I’d say so" you reply your voice carrying just the right amount of thoughtfulness. “I mean, the money goes to charity, for kids.”

Bojan beams clearly pleased that he’s got you both where he wants you. “Yes yes" he nods eagerly, feeding into the idea.

You add with a touch of sympathy "So why not? We’re helping kids after all.” You let the words linger as though the sheer goodness of the idea is enough to seal the deal.

“So that’s a yes then" Rafe laughs. He claps Bojan’s hand firmly the sound of their palms connecting sharp in the quiet of the room. Bojan’s pleased expression widens, clearly thinking he’s won you over.

You’d love to celebrate, but you have workd to do. As you pretend to be caught off guard, you purposefully spill your drink onto your dress letting out an exaggerated gasp.

“Oh my god" you exclaim, quickly pulling away from Rafe as if mortified. “Got a little too excited there.”

The croatian laughs clearly enjoying the scene while Rafe lets out a low chuckle. “I mean, we are making a pretty great deal" Bojan says with a grin shrugging as if it’s only natural. “Excitement should be through the roof right?”

You let out a dramatic pout, already stepping away from the group. “I’ll let you men continue celebrating and talking more" you say with a light chuckle, “I need to go dry this off somehow.”

As you start to move you catch sight of Andrea and quickly make your way over to her. Grabbing her arm you feign frustration. “Where’s the bathroom? I accidentally spilled some drink on myself, and I don’t want this dress to smell or get ruined.”

Andrea gives you a sympathetic look. “Oh of course, Missy.” She turns to call for a maid who immediately appears by her side. “Sweetie can you take her to my bathroom? We’re renovating the guest bathroom, sorry you have to use mine.”

You don't have to be sorry for that Andrea

You smile graciously shaking your head. “Oh

don’t worry at all Andrea. I won’t be long.” You gesture for the maid to lead the way. “Lead the way Missy.”

Rafe smiles as you walk away his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turns back to Bojan. “You really did a number on this island" he says his tone light but laced with a hint of sarcasm. “I’ve never been here before, so I can’t compare it to how it was, but if I had to guess… it must’ve been a complete dump.”

Bojan laughs slapping Rafe on the shoulder with a hearty chuckle. “It was all dirt" he admits, the amusement evident in his voice.

Rafe grins as he gives a playful shrug. “I can imagine.”

“So the contract" Rafe says. “I’m leaving soon, got meetings back home. When should we sign it? Tomorrow?”

Bojan groans rubbing his temple. “Tomorrow’s packed with meetings. You know what? The day after tomorrow, I’m hosting a gala for another charity. Why don’t you and Jane come? It’ll be the perfect time to discuss everything.”

Rafe’s expression remains cool, but inside his heart races. This was it, the moment you two had been waiting for. Bojan had finally extended the invite. You both played your parts flawlessly, pretending to be just another successful rich couple, all while getting closer to him. The mission was moving forward exactly as planned.

He leaned forward slightly his eyes narrowing as he made sure his response sounded just the right amount of enthusiastic. “Oh really?” his tone masking the thrill that pulsed through him. “That sounds great. Yeah we’ll be there.”

Internally, Rafe grinned. You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Bojan

Bojan chuckles, a deep, contented laugh, patting his belly with pride. “Good. It’ll be a night to remember” 

Bojan’s thick accent cut through the air, his voice sharp with irritation. “Where is that idiot- Karlo?” He called out, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Karlo come here.”

Rafe didn’t expect the bulky man to march right next to them, looming over the group like an unwelcome shadow. The same man they’d crossed paths with before, someone who already was suspicious of them. The moment his eyes locked onto Rafe his expression darkened. 

He didn't fucking need this too

“Yes… sir" 

Bojan waved a dismissive hand toward Rafe, oblivious to the tension radiating from his bodyguard. “Give Mr. Starkey here our invite. He and his wife will be joining us.”

Rafe met Karlo’s eyes, briefly acknowledging the unspoken challenge in the man’s stare. He didn’t flinch. It’s just a matter of time, Rafe thought, Before he figures out more than he should.

“Of course… sir" Karlo muttered his eyes still fixed on Rafe as he pulled the invite from his pocket, handing it over with a deliberate slowness.

The paper was thick, smart considering digital invites could easily be intercepted or hacked. Rafe nodded, appreciating their cautiousness.

“Thank you" Rafe said tucking the invite into his pocket but he didn’t expect Karlo to walk away just yet. The silence between them stretched longer than he expected and then Karlo spoke, as if he couldn’t help himself.

“Could you find the meat you wanted?”

Fuck you

“Yeah we went to a restaurant. Happy wife, happy life" he replied with a chuckle trying to play it off.

Bojan raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “What meat? You two have met?”

Karlo turned slowly. “Yeah they came around the butcher shop. They wanted lamb meat. For his pregnant wife.”

“Pregnant? You didn’t tell us Starkey" Bojan says with a smile clearly amused.

Rafe chuckles giving a small shrug as if he's shy about the announcement. “It’s still early didn’t want to spread the word just yet… but yeah, she’s pregnant.”

Bojan clinks his glass against Rafe’s with a grin. “Congratulations.” His eyes narrow slightly, curious. “But wait- wasn’t she drinking alcohol?”

Rafe’s stomach tightens for a split second, but he keeps his composure, laughing it off. He gestures toward the lemonade on the table. “No, no. It was lemonade. Careful Bojan, I don’t want my child to turn out an alcoholic.”

“Isn’t he funny- oh come on Karlo laugh a little" Bojan urges with a grin though his smile quickly fades when Karlo remains stone-faced. “Always so grumpy… I keep telling him he needs to get laid.”

Rafe smirks a mischievous glint in his eye. “Suggestion? Katherine might be a good match for him.”

Bojan’s expression shifts instantly from amusement to disbelief. “Who’s- god not her.” He chuckles shaking his head. “I wouldn’t wish her on my worst enemy.”

Rafe forces a smile. At least he’d accomplished what he’d set out to do. Now all he could do was hope you had what you needed. You’d been gone far too long, and it is eating him out alive

“Goddamn stupid safe,” you mutter, frustration creeping into your voice as you fumble with the lock. Fifteen minutes had passed, and still nothing. Normally, you were skilled with these things, but this safe? This was a whole new level.

When you first entered Diego’s room, you’d started your search immediately, but nothing. It was like he’d cleaned up in anticipation. But then, you noticed the door leading to his office, and by some stroke of luck, it was left ajar.

You went through his drawers, but found nothing of interest. No laptop, no files, nothing that could help. But then your eyes landed on it: the safe.

You had to get in. And fast.

“Come on" you whisper under your breath, fingers trembling slightly as you dial in the third digit. “Just one more… fuck yes.”

The soft cling of the lock is music to your ears, the best sound you’ve heard all week. A rush of triumph surges through you, but it’s fleeting. As soon as you open the safe your smile falters.

It’s packed to the brim with cash.

“Idiot" you mutter your irritation bubbling up. Why the hell is he wasting my time on this? You notice the safe’s interior is far smaller than it appears from the outside. So no time to waste, your hands move swiftly pulling out stacks of bills and discarding them one by one.

Then your eyes catch something, a small handle hidden beneath the money. A smirk curls on your lips. You’re not that smart Mr. Gomez.

You grab the handle and open the surface with a quiet click the small compartment revealing its contents: files and a phone.

Sitting down you grab the phone first and connect it to yours sending a quick message to Pope. You don’t even wait for his confirmation. It’s a waste of time. You set the phone aside, turning your attention to the files stacked in front of you.

The first one is a contract. You recognize the terms instantly, women for sale bought and paid for like property. It doesn’t shock you anymore, but the cold truth still tightens your chest. It’s just another transaction, another group of lives lost to men like Bojan. You put the file down with a tight breath, your hands steady but your mind racing.

You move to the next file flipping it open. It’s a list of names, and underneath the grim labels of organs being harvested. You take it in, your stomach a little tight, but you don’t flinch. 

The photographs are worse though. The women in them are barely recognizable, their faces obscured, their bodies marked with numbers. Your jaw tightens the anger you’ve learned to hide simmering just below the surface. You don’t let it control you not here not now. 

You pause for a moment taking a breath. You don’t need to process it all, this is the reality of the job. You’ve seen worse. You will see worse. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t get under your skin. It just doesn’t stop you. You’ve come too far for that.

Without a second thought, you stand up and make your way to the printer. You power it on, your fingers moving swiftly as you place the contract in position and hit PRINT.

“Come on" you mutter under your breath, tapping your foot impatiently as the machine begins its work. Once the first page begins to feed through, you grab the next file and then another, sending them through one by one.

As the printer hums in the background, you reach into your bag and pull out a small bug. You slip it discreetly under the desk then move to the lamp carefully placing the second one behind it. This will do.

You grab your phone from the ground, remove the cable from his phone. Rafes message caught your eye 

“Where are you?”

You exhale sharply. Not now Rafe.

The last sheet of paper comes through the printer, and you waste no time. You snatch the original files, Diego’s phone and stuff them back into the compartment shutting it quickly. Without hesitation you grab the cash shoving it back in as well.

Then you hear footsteps.

You freeze muscles tensing as the sound grows closer, nearing the office. Your heart starts to race, but you push it down. Slowly you reach for your gun feeling its weight in your hand as you silently click the safety off. The door creaks open and you’re on your feet in an instant, gun aimed directly at the person.

“Put the gun down" it was Rafe. You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling to the surface, but you do as he says sliding the gun back into your bag with a dismissive huff.

“What are you doing here?” you snap

“You were taking too damn long" Rafe snaps back he steps closer his eyes flicking down to the money scattered on the floor.

 “Be a good boy and put the money back in the safe" you smirk. “I’ll grab the files.”

Rafe exhales sharply, irritated but compliant, and crouches down to handle the cash as you reach for the printed files. With a quick motion,  you slip them under your short dress, tucking them discreetly into your bra, making sure they’re hidden securely.

“The bulky man from the butcher shop" Rafe says, his voice low as he closes the case. You hum in response.

“He’s Bojan’s guard" Rafe adds his tone a bit more serious.

You groan, frustration creeping up your spine. “Why is that guy everywhere?”

Rafe’s expression darkens. “And he fucking told Bojan that you’re 'pregnant'. He mentioned the butcher shop, everything.” His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes widen in disbelief.

“What- did he get suspicious?”

Rafe shakes his head his jaw tight. “At first, yeah. But I threw him off.” He pauses, eyes scanning the room, still on edge. “For now at least.”

“But" the blonde man grins, pulling a card from his pocket "we got this.”

You blink realizing it’s not just any card, it’s an invitation.

You gasp, disbelief clear in your voice. “You’re joking right?”

Rafe shakes his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. “No angel. We really got invited.”

You really should stop and think before acting, but in that moment, all you can do is run into his arms, jumping into him with pure excitement.

“Fuck yes!” you exclaim

Rafe’s deep laugh vibrates through his chest as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body presses against you, and your heart races as the reality of the situation sets in.

“Alright we can celebrate later" he says, his voice low and steady. “But right now, we need to move.” Gently he sets you down, his hands lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

He grabs your hand without hesitation, pulling you toward the door. The urgency in his grip sets your heart racing as you step out of Diego’s bedroom and into the hallway.

The air feels tense heavy, like it’s waiting to explode. You turn left but the sharp echo of footsteps freezes you in place heavy, deliberate, and closing in fast.

Rafe exhales sharply his jaw clenching. There’s no mistaking that sound. The steady animalistic rhythm belongs to Karlo. Even earlier when Rafe left to find you, Karlo’s hawk-like gaze had never wavered from him.

Without warning Rafe stops in his tracks, turning to face you. His expression is unreadable, calm but laced with something raw something desperate. “Sorry- not really sorry"

“What?” you whisper your pulse hammering in your ears.

“Kiss me back"

“Kiss you—”

You don’t get the chance to finish. His hand cups the side of your face, and then his lips crash onto yours. The kiss isn’t rough, though—there’s a surprising softness to it, a deliberate slowness that steals your breath.

His lips are warm, impossibly soft, and they move against yours with a confidence that makes you forget, for one maddening second, where you are or why this is happening.

Heat blooms in your chest spreading through you in a way that makes your knees weak. And then the realization hits you like a punch, you like this. Too much.

You curse yourself silently, caught between the intensity of the moment and the sheer absurdity of it. Why didn’t you do this sooner? Why does it feel so damn right when everything else is so wrong?

But you give in, the tension in your body melting as your hands find their way to his neck. Slowly, deliberately, you pull him closer, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. Your lips respond to his meeting him with an intensity that surprises even you.

And Rafe? He loses himself completely.

The kiss is slow. Exactly how he likes it unhurried, yet charged with emotion. It’s everything he didn’t realize he needed, and more than he ever dared to hope for. 

He could've walked off with some excuse about needing to use the bathroom, even if it might have raised suspicion. He could’ve handled it, found another way.

But none of that mattered. Not when his mind had been screaming at him to do this to kiss you.

Because from the moment you stepped onto the cruise with him, he’d wanted nothing else. Now, with the taste of your lips, sweet with a hint of something intoxicating- he knows there’s no going back. You’ve wrecked him with one kiss, and as much as he likes being in control, he realizes he’s never been more undone.

Then it stops. The moment shatters as someone clears their throat once, then again louder this time.

Your eyes flutter open and Rafe pulls back slowly, the spell between you broken. His lips are smudged with red the evidence of your kiss impossible to ignore.

Rafe’s gaze flickers toward the croatian man, he has a scowl etched across his face. You, still catching your breath, find yourself staring at Rafe’s side profile for a moment before shifting your attention to the man again.

“Sorry man- 

The man’s sneer deepens. “What are you two doing here?”

Your lips press into a thin line fighting the urge to laugh “Sorry" you say, feeling embarrassed. “Things… got out of control. I went to the bathroom, and he came looking for me, and then, well this happened.” You gesture vaguely between you and Rafe.

Rafe nods, his expression sheepish as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah sorry about that" he adds offering a small, apologetic smile

The man’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t press further, his expression suggesting he’s more annoyed than suspicious. You can only hope he buys it.

“The guests are leaving" Karlo says slowly,

“Got it. We’ll be heading out too" Rafe replies

You don’t waste a second. Sliding your hand into Rafe’s, you squeeze it firmly as if to ground both of you then flash Karlo a polite smile. “Thanks for letting us know" you say lightly 

Karlo’s gaze hardens his eyes narrowing slightly, but he doesn’t stop you as you lead Rafe away. You wave over your shoulder a quick dismissive gesture. “Goodnight"

Once you’re out of his sight, the tension in your chest unravels in a sharp exhale. Your steps falter but you don't release Rafe’s hand. “That was way too close" you mutter

Rafe doesn’t reply only giving a brief nod, his jaw tight as he follows your lead. His mind, however is far from the present moment. It’s still tangled up in the kiss the way your lips moved against his, the way you felt pressed so close.

He steals a glance at you, his throat tightening. He can still taste the faint sweetness of your lips and it’s doing nothing to help the situation brewing below. Shifting uncomfortably, he shoves his hands into his pockets silently praying you don’t notice the very real problem he’s trying to manage.

You usually had no problem handling awkward situations. Most of the time, you couldn’t care less.

But not this time.

You sat across from Rafe at the small table, watching him sift through the files with a stony expression. The silence between you was heavier than usual, stretched taut like a rubber band about to snap.

He hadn’t said a word, not when you left Andreas house, not during the tense walk back to the house, not even when you handed him the files. His focus was razor-sharp, his brow furrowed as he scanned each page.

It wasn’t hard to see the shift in his demeanor as he read. The more he took in, the angrier he became. His jaw clenched, his grip on the papers tightening as if he might tear them in half.

You couldn’t blame him. You’d seen the same things he was seeing now, and the vile details were enough to churn anyone’s stomach. Still the tension in the air made your chest tighten. You weren’t sure if his silence was directed at the files or at you. Or at both

The kiss… Did he hate it? Did he regret it?

The thought wormed its way into your mind, and the more you dwelled on it, the hotter your frustration burned. You hated feeling this way uncertain, second guessing yourself. And worst of all, you hated the idea that he might be silently judging you for something he initiated.

Fine, if he hated it that was his problem. You sure as hell weren’t going to lose sleep over it, or at least that’s what you told yourself.

Then Rafe stood up abruptly the movement snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts. Your jaw tightened as you watched him.

Without a word he yanked off his T-shirt and tossed it onto the couch.  He couldn’t be near you right now, not with the memory of the kiss still burning in his mind, not with the way he wanted to close the gap again. If he stayed, he knew he’d lose control. And as much as he wanted to kiss you again, he couldn’t let that happen.

So in a show of restraint he could barely muster, he walked to the bathroom instead. Grabbing his toothbrush, he squeezed a generous amount of toothpaste onto it and started brushing his teeth. The repetitive motion was grounding, a distraction from the chaotic thoughts clawing at him.

But, of course, you being you, you walked right into the bathroom without hesitation.

Rafe didn’t even glance your way at first, though he could feel your presence like a spark in the air. He knew exactly what you were doing—pushing him testing his limits. You weren’t the type to brush your teeth without first taking off your makeup, doing your skincare routine, and changing into your pajamas.

He bit back a smirk the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. You sly little vixen. 

The bathroom was steeped in silence, save for the rhythmic sound of brushes scraping against teeth and the steady flow of water from the faucet.

Rafe bent forward spitting into the sink. He straightened sparing you a glance as you stepped closer mirroring his movements. Leaning down you spit into the sink as well.

You rinse your toothbrush slowly, the silence between you two thickening almost unbearable. Then just to test him, you stretch your arm  making sure to brush your hand lightly against his chest as you place your brush on the other side. 

But instead of leaning in or teasing you like he usually would, he steps back. His movement is subtle but it’s enough to create a noticeable distance between you.

You freeze for a second irritation flickering through you. He never backed off, never. Usually he’d stay close, just enough to push your buttons, to get under your skin but this? This felt different, and it pissed you off more than you cared to admit.

You turn to him, your voice cuts through the stillness, a mix of confusion and annoyance. “Okay what’s your problem?”

Rafe looks at you, his eyes unreadable for the first time tonight. His lips press together for a moment before he finally responds. “What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’? You’ve been ignoring me-"

Rafe cuts you off with a frustrated huff. “I have not.”

“Yes have. Don’t lie.” You can feel your irritation rising with every word. “Ever since we left the house, you’ve been shutting me out. You didn’t even look at me. I told you about the files, nothing. I handed you the files and asked you something, silence. And now, you’re backing away from me like you can’t even be near me?”

Rafe sighs his gaze shifting to meet yours. He sees the anger in your eyes, and for a moment, he understands.

“I’m just tired, angel” he groans, turning to leave, but you step in front of the door, blocking his way.

“Lying again" you snap in disbelief “You’re not tired Rafe. Lie to whoever you want, but don’t think I’ll buy it.”

Before he can say anything, you press on, your words coming faster, more forceful.

“If you didn’t want to kiss me, why’d you do it in the first place? Or if you regret it, just be a man and say it. Don’t keep acting like a damn child—”

He cuts you off then, his hands gripping your face with surprising force, pulling you toward him. Before you can react, his lips crash against yours, silencing everything.

This kiss isn’t slow or soft like the last one it’s hungry, urgent. The kind of kiss that tells you there’s more beneath the surface. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you closer his fingers digging into the fabric of your clothes like he’s trying to fuse you into him.

You pull away just slightly, enough to catch your breath, your pulse racing in your ears. He meets your gaze, his lips curling into a low quiet chuckle. “If I regretted the kiss angel” he says, his voice husky, a hint of amusement threading through "I wouldn’t be doing this.”

The words settle in your chest and without another thought, you wrap your arms around his neck pulling him back to you. The tension you’d felt moments before evaporates in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming need to feel him, to erase the distance.

His hands respond without thought, one hand sliding up your back, the other tightening around your waist pulling you closer, impossibly closer. You can feel his heart racing just like yours the heat of his body pressing into you, and the intensity of the kiss deepens. His lips move against yours with need

Without breaking the rhythm, he moves, guiding you toward the bedroom, his grip never wavering. Every step he takes is deliberate, every movement a promise of more.

He pats your leg a subtle signal, and without a word you understand. In a heartbeat you’re in his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist as he holds you effortlessly, the kiss still searing between you.

Without breaking it, he moves toward the bedroom, his grip never wavering. He slowly lowers you onto the bed, his lips never leaving yours. His mouth trails along your jaw, down your neck, his kisses soft yet intense leaving a trail of fire in their wake. A soft moan escapes your lips, as you arch into him, your fingers curling into his buzzcut, nails grazing his scalp in response to the pleasure.

Every touch, every kiss heightening the tension between you, making it impossible to think about anything other than the heat building with each passing second.

In the next few minutes, everything becomes a blur. One moment you’re kissing him, and the next you find yourself straddling Rafe, your dress forgotten on the floor.

You’re perched on his lap, his body leaning back against the headboard his breath ragged. His hands are everywhere, one gripping your ass pulling you closer, while the other moves higher, trailing along your side before resting at the clasp of your bra.

The soft beep cuts through the airalmost unnoticed at first, lost in the haze of the moment. But just as Rafe’s hand moves to unclasp your bra, a sudden, sharp realization hits you.

Someone’s coming.

You pull away from the kiss, your head snapping toward the table where the files are scattered open. 

Rafe groans in frustration, his hands gripping your face as he tries to pull you back, but you slap his hand away, urgency replacing any trace of desire. “Someone is coming"

The bell rings

 You exchange a glance, both of you instantly on high alert. You scramble to your feet, your heart pounding as you rush to the table, grabbing the files in a frantic motion. Rafe stands up quickly, his body tense, moving toward the door

Rafe’s hand instinctively moves to his gun his fingers brushing the cold metal as he opens the door, ready for anything. But when he sees the redhead standing there with that infuriating smile, his annoyance spikes. She’s holding a plate in her hands, and for a moment he almost shoots her on pure reflex.

She notices him standing shirtless, and her smile falters just slightly, her gaze lingering on him a bit too long before she swallows and straightens up.

Rafe’s patience snaps. “Can I help you?” he asks, If he had known she’d be standing on the other side of the door, he wouldn’t have even bothered to open it.

He’d pulled away from you, because of her

Katherine’s eyes flicker to his lips, and her smile falters when she notices the faint trace of red lipstick smeared across them. Her expression shifts but she quickly recovers, forcing a smile as she steps forward with the plate in hand.

“Hi Drew" she says her voice faltering slightly as she holds the dessert out to him. “I… I brought you some cheesecake. You said you liked it.”

The moment you hear her voice a wave of frustration hits you so hard, you’re tempted to march out there and slam her head against the nearest wall. She’s crazy

Quickly you hide the files, your mind racing. Grabbing Drew’s shirt, you pull it on over your head, taking a steadying breath before moving toward the door.

"I'm fine" Rafe tries to close the door, you hear her voice again, persistent and annoyingly chipper.

“It’s no problem really. Take it" she insists.

You step up beside Rafe, nudging closer to him, and without missing a beat, he wraps his arm around your shoulder. You can feel the tension in his muscles, but you lean into him, offering her a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Katherine hi" you say, your voice dripping with sweetness. “We didn’t expect you.”

She looks at you, her expression twitching as she tries to mask the scowl forming on her face. “Jane… hi" 

You tilt your head slightly raising an eyebrow as if silently daring her to say something more. Try me bitch.

“I just wanted to give Drew-uh, you guys cheesecake"

You smile sweetly, stepping a little closer to Rafe as you speak. “That’s really sweet but we’ve got some leftover pie. We wouldn’t want to overdo it with all the sweetness" you say casually watching her smile falter and fall completely her composure cracking in an instant.

Rafe smiles at your words, a quiet chuckle escaping him as he tugs you gently, trying to pull you along with him.

But you remain still, not budging an inch. Your eyes lingering on him as you bite your lip. Once he’s gone you turn toward Katherine, your expression hardening as you close the door a little 

“I know what you’re doing" you say your voice cold and unwavering. “Drop it. It won’t work.”

You hold her gaze for a moment longer, watching the frustration flash across her face. Without another word, you slam the door shut, leaving Katherine standing there, fuming on the other side.

You both return to what you had left behind, picking up where you were so abruptly interrupted.

Rafe had been wrong, he did in fact end up using the condoms

[princesseilish]

SUMMER OF 07’

Billie Eilish x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, religious topics, internalized homophobia, slight fluff

synopsis: Set in the summer of 2007, Y/N, a Yale-bound girl from a strict, religious family, hides her relationship with Billie, a rebellious small-town musician. When a photo of them together is exposed at church, Y/N faces her parents’ judgment and her own internalized homophobia. Overwhelmed, she breaks up with Billie, despite their love.

It was the summer of 2007, and the air smelled like freshly cut grass and freedom. School had just let out, and Billie was already knee-deep in her usual antics with her small-town garage band. They were loud, reckless, and unapologetically themselves. And despite your better judgment—and your parents’ strict rules—you couldn’t resist her.

Billie Eilish Pirate Baird O’Connell. The girl with piercing blue eyes and an untamed spirit. She was everything your overly religious family despised, everything your sheltered, Yale-bound future wasn’t supposed to include. But you loved her. God help you, you loved her.

That’s why, when Billie called you that night, begging you to come along to one of her band’s impromptu “jam sessions” at the abandoned lot by the old train tracks, you said yes. You always did.

The evening was wild, full of laughter and music that shook the rusted metal walls of the makeshift stage. Billie was magnetic, her energy infectious as she strummed her guitar and sang like the world wasn’t watching. But you were. You always were.

After the session, she pulled you aside, her fingers lacing with yours as she pressed you up against her truck. Her lips brushed your ear as she whispered, “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You blushed, the heat rising to your cheeks. “If I were so perfect, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Don’t say that,” Billie said, her voice soft but firm. “This is exactly where you’re meant to be.”

For a moment, you believed her.

It all came crashing down two weeks later.

You woke up to your mother’s shrill voice calling your name. When you stepped into the kitchen, the air was thick with tension. Your father sat at the table, his jaw tight, while your older sister, Hazel, leaned against the counter with a smug expression.

On the table lay a printed photo.

It took you a moment to process what you were seeing: you and Billie, caught in a moment of intimacy. Her arm around your waist, her lips brushing your temple.

“Explain this,” your mother demanded, her voice shaking with barely restrained fury.

You felt the ground shift beneath you. “Where did you get that?”

“It was pinned to the church bulletin board this morning,” Hazel said, her tone dripping with false concern. “Everyone saw it.”

Your heart dropped. The room seemed to close in around you as your father slammed his hand on the table.

“This is unacceptable, Y/N,” he growled. “We raised you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but no words came out. The weight of their disappointment, their judgment, was suffocating.

“Do you have any idea what this could do to our reputation?” your mother hissed. “What would people think if they knew our daughter was—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

You ran.

That night, Billie sat on the hood of her truck, her flip phone clutched tightly in her hand. She’d heard about the photo from one of her bandmates, and the thought of what you were going through made her stomach churn.

She dialed your number for the fourth time that day.

It rang once. Twice. Three times.

Finally, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,” Billie said, relief flooding her voice. “What’s going on? Are you okay? I heard about the photo.”

You didn’t respond, and the silence made her chest tighten.

“Y/N, talk to me,” she pleaded.

“Billie,” you said finally, your voice barely audible.

“What?”

“It’s over,” you whispered.

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice trembling.

“Yes, you can,” Billie said firmly. “We’ll figure it out.”

“No!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “You don’t understand. My parents… everyone in that church… they know. They saw the picture.”

“I don’t care what they think,” Billie shot back. “I care about you.”

“I’m not like you, Billie!” you cried. “I can’t just… not care. My whole life, I’ve been told this is wrong. And maybe they’re right.”

“Don’t say that,” Billie said, her voice cracking. “You’re not wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you. They’re the ones who are messed up for making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry, Billie,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face. “I love you, but I can’t do this.”

The line went dead.

Days passed, and the world felt dull without her. You stayed locked in your room, drowning in guilt and shame. Your parents’ judgmental silence was deafening, their disappointment a constant reminder of what you’d lost.

You missed her. God, you missed her.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, there was a knock at your bedroom window.

You froze, your heart racing. Slowly, you pulled back the curtains to reveal Billie standing on the lawn, her hands stuffed in her hoodie pockets.

“Let me in,” she said softly.

You hesitated before sliding the window open. Billie climbed through with practiced ease, landing silently on your bedroom floor.

“What are you doing here?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I needed to see you,” she said. “You weren’t answering my calls.”

You turned away. “I told you, Billie. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not,” she said, stepping closer. “You don’t get to decide that on your own. Not without talking to me first.”

“Talking to you won’t change anything,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes.

“It might not,” she admitted. “But I’m not leaving until you tell me to my face that you don’t love me anymore.”

Your breath hitched. “Billie, please don’t do this.”

“Why not?” she said, her voice breaking. “Because you’re scared? Because they made you believe that loving me is something you should feel guilty about?”

You turned to face her, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I’m scared,” you admitted.

“I know,” Billie said, stepping closer and cupping your face in her hands. “But you don’t have to do this alone. We’ll figure it out together.”

Her words broke something inside you. You collapsed into her arms, sobbing as she held you tightly.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered.

“You can,” Billie said, her voice steady. “And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

As she held you, you realized that maybe, just maybe, love didn’t have to feel like sin.