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st44rkeys · 18 days ago

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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

#rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #outerbanks rafe #rafe x reader smut #rafe imagine #obx #outer banks #drew starkey #angst #fluff #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks #Spotify

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

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lando x reader period!sex ft. 'shameless' - camila cabello?? (i'm on my period if you couldn't tell)

-🌷

DUDE ME TOOOOO (but also imma not write them having period sex bc #trauma lol)

At first she was just groaning. Every time Lando walked into the room she let out a series of dramatic groans. He'd never call her dramatic, though. Not when he couldn't fathom just how much pain she was really in.

"What can I get you, baby?" He asked as he sat beside her on the bed.

Wordlessly, she reached out and grabbed a hold of his hand. Lando followed her as she rested his large, warm hand against her cramping stomach. He repositioned himself to be comfortable while he held her.

"Oh that feels so much better," she muttered as she scooted back against him.

While she was on her period, Lando would do quite literally anything for her. Well, almost anything.

They'd tried period sex before. For both of them it wasn't enjoyable and they said they weren't going to try it again. Last time she had been on her period she had practically begged him to fuck her. But Lando shook his head, wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

This time was no different. This time she climbed into his lap as he sat on stream (he very quickly had to end the stream, subscribing to Max's so he could apologise before giving her the attention she wanted).

"What?" He asked, lazy smile on his face as he held her hips.

She moved in his lap, moved again him. Lando tightened his grip on her hips, stopping her. "Babe, baby, Y/N, I'm not gonna fuck you while you're on your period."

She groaned, letting her body fall against his. "You're an ass," she mumbled, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

"I love you too," he said and kissed the top of her head. "You wanna go and get junk food?" He asked and she nodded. For his girl on her period, he would do (almost) anything.

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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holdmytesseract · 1 month ago

Text

moodboard by @chennqingg | divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: 18+! MDNI! thirst, smut - not entirely graphic, but oh boy, it's there!

Word Count: 1.6k

a/n: So, uh... I'm pretty nervous about this chapter, since smut isn't really something I write on a daily basis, so... I hope this turned out okay! 👉🏻👈🏻

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter One 》《 Chapter Three 》

Chapter Two...

... in which you spent a passionate night with the handsome biker.

A little bit older A black leather jacket A bad reputation Insatiable habits He was onto me, one look and I couldn't breathe

'My Oh My' by Camila Cabello feat. DaBaby

Feeling a wave of nervousness but also anticipation and excitement wash over you, your feet immediately guided you over to the biker. Daryl gestured behind himself. "Hop on." You didn't let yourself tell that twice, and swung your leg over; sitting behind Daryl.

He revved the engine and looked over his shoulder back at you. "Ya should hold on real tight." You did; placing your hands on his shoulders. He smirked - something you weren't able to see and started to drive down the street; away from the bar. You felt your body crashing into Daryl's due to the speed. It caused you to redirect your hands and wrap your arms around his torso instead; switching positions - and you would've lied when you said you didn't enjoy holding on to him like this for the short ride inside Miles City. He was so broad and bulky, yet strong. Downright attractive.

Ten minutes later, Daryl pulled off the road and onto the parking lot of a motel. He stopped his bike and turned off the engine. You hopped off the vehicle again; Daryl doing the same. Then he took off his helmet again, fished inside his jeans pocket for the keys to his room and took your hand in his free hand. It was the first direct skin-on-skin contact - and it caused our head to spin. A shiver ran down your spine. The biker started to walk backwards and gently dragged you with him; that charming smile once again on his lips. You followed him. There were no words or further signals needed.

You felt your heart beating fast for the man in front of you, who had just put the key in the lock to open up the door to his room - to an invitation to spent the night with him. Again, you couldn't help but accept. Usually, you weren't like that, but something about Daryl was just so special and intriguing. He was different.

The wooden door had merely fallen into its hinges, when Daryl's lips crashed onto yours; your back hitting the wall behind you with a soft thud.

Daryl's kiss was overwhelming but intoxicating. The taste of Whiskey and smoke; paired with the woodsy, musky and floral scent of his cologne drove you wild. Desire and need fogging up your brain and making it hard for you to think straight. He was like a drug; injected in your bloodstream. All you wanted was the man in front of you - and you could tell that the feeling was mutual.

His lips were still attached to yours as the biker's hands started to wander; feeling the dips of your lower back and the curves of your hips. They traced the hem of your blue jeans, before calloused but skilled fingers popped the single button open and zipped down the zipper. You kicked off your cowboy boots to help Daryl along and within seconds you were halfway undressed.

To feel his hands on your burning hot skin sent another shiver down your spine. No doubt you were aching with need for him.

The man buried his face in your neck; kissing, biting and licking the sensitive skin. A gasp left your lips; hands sliding from his broad shoulders into his hair and you tugged; getting rid of his black baseball cap on the way. You felt him groan in your shoulder. His hips suddenly jerked forwards to pin you against the thin motel wall. That was the moment you felt all of him - and you were a hairsbreadth away from losing your mind. You were so drunk of him, you couldn't hold out much longer. "Daryl, p-please..." You panted desperately; hands no longer in his hair, but at the hem of his jeans. Your thumbs slid through the belt loops; tugging. He lifted his head to give you the sexiest, yet dirtiest smile a man had ever given you. It almost caused your knees to buckle and give in. Daryl knew what you wanted - and that only he was able to give it to you. Actually, he had planned to play with you a little longer, but the night wasn't over yet and he was losing the roaring battle against his most primal instincts as well. Therefore, he didn't hesitate; made quick work to unzip the zipper of his own jeans and finally gave the raging arousal trapped inside some room. Nevertheless, he couldn't resist the temptation to grant himself at least a little bit relief with the help of his hand, while he shrugged his angel-winged vest off his shoulders and messily undid a few buttons of his shirt, before he rummaged around in the back pocket of his jeans. Daryl quickly found what he was looking for, and fished it out. Bringing the little foil package to his mouth, he ripped it open with his teeth and took out the condom.

Meanwhile, your gaze had dropped, of course; watching his hands work with parted lips and your delicate palms splayed on his thick thighs. Gods, you wanted him so bad.

The sudden touch of Daryl's pleasantly warm hands on your bare hips ripped you out of your lustful thoughts. You raised your head again, just in time to see him dipping his head to meet your lips in an almost obscene kiss.

"Be a good girl 'n jump," the biker whispered hoarsely against your mouth; hot breath dancing over your skin. You did what he asked you to without hesitation; trusting your hookup blindly. He caught you easily mid-air; big palms cupping your bottom. You wrapped your legs around his middle and arms around his neck. Making sure your legs are secured around him, Daryl bend his knees and let gravity do the rest.

Your lips parted; a frown forming on your forehead. It was a lot - and it's been a while. He was a lot. You gasped; the muscles in your stomach tightening.

Daryl had thrown his head back in sheer endless pleasure, but when he focused again, he noticed the look on your face. "T-Too much?" He spluttered; having a hard time to hold himself back. You nodded wordlessly; breath still knocked out of your lungs. However, you stopped Daryl immediately as he wanted to retreat. "D-Don't... I-I want this."

Another smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The sex was primal, rough and messy. It wasn't love making. Far from it. It was just two people giving into their attraction and needs.

What had started close to a wall beside the door, moved on to the cheap, shabby cupboard in the small entrance area and to the single, rickety chair beside the wardrobe, before it was now (finally) where it actually belonged... In the motel room's small, old bed, with you on your back and Daryl on his knees. The wood and springs squeaked underneath the biker's movements; headboard knocking against the wall. By now, you were pretty sure that all the neighbours around you knew what was going on behind these walls - but neither you, nor Daryl couldn't care less. You were so far gone already; completely lost in a haze of pleasure and the handsome man above you, who made you see stars.

Honestly, he was a sight to behold. The view had been never better... Chestnut brown curls all messy; pecks covered in a layer of sweat, causing the tattoos on his chest to glisten and the fine, dark hairs growing there and underneath his belly button to stick to his skin. It was probably the sexiest view you ever had.

While the biker did the heavy work, your hands were twisting the meanwhile fully opened black shirt Daryl wore; moans and gasps slipping past your lips now and then. The cliff you were about to jump down approaching quickly - quicker than you thought. All it took was a soft nip on the delicate skin at the junction of your shoulder and neck, and you were done for it. "F-Fuckin' s-shit," Daryl grunted huskily mere seconds later as he joined you, and jumped off the cliff as well.

The man panted hard as he was collapsing on top of you; biceps bulging as they worked hard to support his weight and not crush your smaller form. You giggled deliriously. One hand still splayed on his stomach as you bathed in the afterglow.

Quite a few minutes later - it was way past midnight, you were still laying in 'Daryl's' bed; him stretched out beside you, now fully naked and with his hands crossed behind his head. Neither of you had moved far.

You turned on your side to face him. "Is your one-night-stand allowed to stay the night, or should I go, call a taxi?" Daryl turned his head to face you as well; chewing on his bottom lip. "'S yer decision. If ya wanna stay, stay. If ya wanna leave, 's fine by me," he answered with a shrug.

You thought about it for a moment. It was late, you were tipsy and alone.

The decision was quickly made.

"Alright." You stood up and quickly got undressed completely as well - unintentionally giving Daryl more to look at, before you dived back into the bed; this time underneath the sheets.

The biker followed and tucked the sheets over his most private part. You slid a little bit closer to him; placing a hand on his soft stomach. "Thank you for this. Best sex I had in a while." Your words caused Daryl to chuckle. He reached out his arm for you to misappropriate as your pillow; hand resting on your bare back. "Same, cowgirl."

Tags: @dixons-sunshine @angelwings-crossbowstrings @bigbaldheadname @making-the-most-0f-it @mischief-dream @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @fictive-sl0th @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @coleigh-1205-blog @chaoticevilbakugo @lou12346789 @marvelcasey05 @whore4romance @stitchintimefan @km-ffluv @0-aubrie0 @sweetz1919 @mikaela-granger @secretsicanthideanymore @dilfdixon @txtttttttttttttt @cakesandtom @mayday2007

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shopaholixs · 5 months ago

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Camila Cabello wearing mock-crocs by Vivienne Westwood.

Nylon France September 2024

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lilasamaaa · 9 months ago

Text

Havana | Charles Leclerc & Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt, Smut.

Word count | 5.0K

Warnings | Sexual content, alcohol consumption, cheating, some gaslighting, heartbreak!!

Summary | Reader and Charles, who've been dating for a few years, go on a trip to Cuba between two races. A few days before leaving, they learn that Carlos and Rebecca will be staying at the same resort. Good news, right? Well, if you forget Carlos and reader's years-long mutual attraction. Inspired by the « She chose me/Did she? » trend on TikTok… with a twist.

Author's note | Lord... This was so filthy I'm sorry. This piece is the result of this poll! Wrote half of this listening to These Walls by Dua Lipa, the other with Never Be The Same by Camila Cabello. Just so you get the mood. Not proofread, sorry!

She had been waiting for these holidays for months.

Since the beginning of the season, she hadn't been able to travel with Charles to any race, having no available days off. She was jealous of the others wags. The influencers. The ones who could rearrange their schedules in the blink of an eye to follow their boyfriends to the other side of the world without thinking about the consequences. But she'd foolishly chosen to pursue studies, foolishly found a job in marketing, foolishly trapped herself without even realizing it. She loved her job. Or at least, that's what she repeated to herself every morning when her alarm went off at 6 a.m. Sharp.

She had followed the start of the season through her TV and phone, and had savored every brief moment Charles had spent in Monaco (which represented, like... twenty days, tops, since the beginning of March). She knew she couldn't complain. That she didn't have the right to. She'd chosen to share her life with a high-level and high-profile athlete, and this situation couldn't obviously be all positive. She knew that other women would have sold their souls to be in her place. To wake up next to Charles, even just once a month. So, she never complained. She endured.

Charles had returned from China two days earlier, and they were heading to Cuba this afternoon, preparing for ten days of pure bliss. She was euphoric. Delighted not to set her alarm for the next day, delighted not to see her boss and colleagues for ten days, delighted to spend time with Charles. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Yet... There was something.

Yesterday night, at the restaurant, as they were making the final preparations, Charles' phone had lit up on the table and the driver had grabbed it, staring at the screen for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Non, j'y crois pas!". She had shot him a questioning look, and her boyfriend had chuckled before saying "Carlos just texted me. Him and Rebecca are staying at the same resort as us in Havana. This is gonna be so cool."

Oh.

She hadn't responded, just smiled, and returned her attention to the plate of pasta in front of her. Carlos was... a friend. Well, it was actually hard to define. He was obviously primarily Charles' friend, but they had crossed paths quite regularly in the past few years, and naturally, they had hit it off. There was just one issue. One tiny thing.

The man drove her crazy. It was ridiculous. Almost humiliating. She had been sharing her life with Charles for four years. She was happy. She was in love! But... She couldn't deny that Carlos made her feel things that Charles never had. Just the thought of acknowledging this made her want to throw up.

She had never acted on her impulses. Absolutely never. But... she could have. She had noticed glances.

It had started one evening at the restaurant, in 2021, when the two Ferrari drivers had organized a double date for their partners to meet. She had immediately loved Isa, with whom she had hit it off right away. The dinner had gone admirably well, the food was amazing, the wine delicious. The wine. There had been too much of it. They all probably thought so, seeing the bottles go by, but no one had stopped. No one wanted to be the one to break the great mood of the evening. So, they’d drank. Again and again.

If at the beginning of the meal, Carlos had just been casting curious glances in her direction, the wine had changed that. By the time Charles was explaining to Isa how they had met, the Spaniard was piercing her with his gaze. Equally intoxicated and never one to back down from a challenge, she had not flinched at the driver's boldness, holding his gaze, not even blinking. It had lasted a minute. Maybe two. Or even five, before Charles had asked her the name of the movie they'd seen on their third date, you know, the one with the mansion, and she’d finally tore her gaze away from Carlos.

"I believe that was Knives Out," she'd replied, smiling fondly at her boyfriend.

The conversation had resumed its course, and a few hours later, the two couples had parted ways. Lying in bed, in the middle of the night, she could still feel Carlos' burning gaze on her. That could have been nothing. She could always blame it on the wine. But there'd been more.

One day, Charles had suggested that she came with him to an interview he was going to do with Carlos. "It won't take long," he had said. "And as soon as it's over, we'll go grab a bite at that Mexican restaurant you love". She had agreed. The questions had started simple.

"What would be your perfect day?"

"What's your pre-race tradition?"

"Describe your ideal woman"

Even though she had been browsing her phone for a while, absorbed by the device, this question had made her look up. Locking eyes with Charles, the driver had smiled at her before answering.

"That's rather easy to answer, because I've already found her. My ideal woman is career-oriented. She works hard, doesn't count her hours. She wants to succeed because she deserves it, not because she's dating me. She excels in everything she undertakes. She sets no limits for herself, fears nothing. Tries everything. She can be uncompromising, but she knows how to be gentle and caring. She has weaknesses, but she only shows them to me. I am her refuge, and she is mine."

She had smiled, touched, blowing a kiss to her boyfriend.

"Carlos?" the interviewer had said.

"My ideal woman..." the Spaniard had started, searching for his words. "Actually, I have the same, erm… taste as Charles. But I would add that my ideal woman isn't afraid to make mistakes. She allows herself to make wrong choices, to take the wrong path. It's okay, she will always find her way back," he had added, looking her straight in the eyes. That bastard can't be for real, she'd thought.

The last... "incident" had occurred at the end of last season. It hadn't been easy, but she had managed to get time off, and she had joined Charles in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season. Her boyfriend had finished fifth in the championship, and everyone : drivers, engineers, girlfriends, had ended up at the club to celebrate Max's victory.

She wasn't a fan of nightclubs. She was very migraine-prone, and the music, combined with the neon lights, didn't do well with her. Feeling the pain starting behind her eyes, she had signaled to Charles that she was going outside, and despite his insistence, she had convinced him to stay inside, wanting him to enjoy the evening. In the dark corridor leading outside, she had closed her eyes for a second. No more. Just to relieve the pain for a moment. And she had bumped into someone, of course.

The someone being Mister Sainz himself. Of course.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, still rubbing her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a migraine."

"Here," he'd said, leading her outside. "Let's get some calm."

She was surprised to see no one outside. Granted, it was already late, almost 4 a.m., and many people had left the club already. But still, she'd expected to see a few people. Smokers, at least...

"Charles fought well," Carlos had said, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah. He'll be champion one day."

"Of course," the Spaniard had say, grinning. "He'll have the cup." A pause. "And the girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she'd replied, pretending not to understand.

"Everything Charles wants, Charles gets."

She wasn't in the mood for this. Not tonight. Even if she found it hard to meet the Spaniard's gaze. Even if feeling his eyes on her made her shiver. Even if she could feel her lower abdomen tighten every time the driver's smooth voice reached her ears.

"Maybe everything Charles has, Charles fought for," she had replied.

"Oh yeah? Is that the secret?" Carlos had asked, coming closer.

"There's no secret."

"Do you want me to fight for you?" he had added, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.

"You must have misunderstood," she'd said, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm talking about the championship."

Carlos had let out a laugh. An ironic, mocking laugh. Disappointed, almost. A laugh that meant "You and I understood each other perfectly well, but you won't dare go further". And she hadn't dared. Casting one last glance, she had gone back inside, leaving him alone under the stars of Baku.

She hadn't seen him since. Good riddance.

"I still can't believe it," Charles had said, yesterday night, taking a spoonful of his tiramisu. "At least, you won't be alone when I go golfing. I haven't seen much of Rebecca, but she seems very nice. I'm sure you two will get along well."

"So that's it? Our romantic vacation just turned into a friend's getaway?" she'd asked, almost offended.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry, mon coeur. We'll spend as much time together as possible, but... it could be nice to do a thing or two with them, right? I thought you loved Carlos."

The sentence had overwhelmed her with guilt.

"I like Carlos. I loved Isa, though," she'd answered, pouting, while Charles looked at her with soft eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But we have to come to terms with the fact that we won't see Isa again. Or, at least, not with Carlos." the driver had said, rising from his seat. "I'll pay, will you wait for me outside?"

Three days and three flights later, she's sitting at the hotel restaurant table, facing Carlos, wondering what Charles could have possibly misunderstood in her request a few days earlier. We'll spend as much time together as possible, yeah, right, she thinks, clearly annoyed.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Rebecca," Charles says, giving the model a big smile. "Carlos must only have eyes for you, because I hear about you every other day."

She chokes on her drink. The whole table looks at her.

"Sorry," she says. "Ice cubes."

The conversation resumes, Rebecca proving to be very interesting. And apparently very much in love with Carlos, she thinks as she watches the blue-eyed blonde. She doesn't like the pinch she feels in her heart. She doesn't even want to put a name on it. It doesn't matter.

"I'm so happy that you’re here," Rebecca says after a while. "I can't wait to spend more time with you all," she finishes with a big smile.

"Yeah. Can't wait," Carlos says, turning his gaze away from Rebecca's eyes. Finding hers.

The following days pass without incident. Charles divides his day between the hotel pool, the golf course, and their bed, where they make love several times a day. If for some time she had the feeling that they were less close, everything seems forgotten under the Cuban sun.

One day, while she was riding Charles particularly loudly, the driver's hands digging into her hips in a deliciously painful way, someone had knocked on their bedroom door. Surprised, they had stopped suddenly, like teenagers caught red-handed, before Charles had jumped out of bed, grabbing a towel on the go.

"You're not actually going to open the door, are you?" she had asked, hidden under the sheets, with only her head out.

"You never know, what if it's urgent... Like... A fire?" her boyfriend had replied before opening the door.

It very obviously hadn't been urgent, and she had felt like dying of embarrassment when she'd seen Carlos's smug face on the other side of the door. He'd quickly glanced past Charles to look at her. Very obviously naked.

"Sorry to interrupt," he'd said, accent thick, licking his lips. "We had agreed to meet ten minutes ago to go play tennis."

"Did we? Oh my god, I'm sorry," Charles had said, closing the door behind him, running to the bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, both of them had left and she’d found herself alone in the room. Hot and bothered.

In the evening, to make up for leaving her alone all day, a very tanned Charles had invited her to a fancy restaurant in Havana, before taking her dancing. She had loved that night, so close together in the anonymity of the Cuban capital. She would have liked to prolong the festivities, to pick up where they had left off, but as soon as they'd returned to the room, Charles had laid down "for five minutes," and had been snoring ever since.

A faint knock echoes against the door of the room, and she gets up discreetly, careful not to wake Charles.

"You've got to be kidding me..." she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Are you sleeping in front of our door or something?" she spits out, annoyed to find herself facing the Spaniard for the second time today.

"Charles forgot this," he says, handing her a towel. A towel with the hotel logo. What is she supposed to do with that? There are plenty of them in the closets. She stares at him intensely, arching a brow. Making no move to retrieve the towel.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks after a few seconds.

Without a word, she steps aside, revealing the room, and the bed where Charles is still snoring.

"Wow," Carlos says, walking into the room, laughing. "He's fucking knackered. I might have gone a bit hard on him this afternoon."

"What did you do?" she asks, clearly unamused.

"Nothing special. Made him run a bit." he replies, smirking. "I'm so sorry if you'd planned to finish what you'd started earlier," eyes boring into hers.

"You're a little shit," she says, disappearing into the bathroom.

She thought he would take the hint. Understand that his presence was no longer desired. In the bathroom, she takes off her earrings in front of the mirror, the door to the bedroom wide open, when the Spaniard appears behind her.

"Are you happy with him?" he asks, leaning against the door frame.

"What kind of fucked up question is that?" she snaps, turning to face him.

"A simple one," Carlos says, eyeing her intensely.

"What are you even doing here?" she asks, turning once again to grab her hairbrush from the countertop. "Shouldn't you be fucking your girl or something?"

Her hate-filled sentence makes him pause for a moment, seeking her gaze in the mirror. Faced with his silence, she lifts her head, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"I had other plans," he states.

"Well, go fuck someone else then," she says, vehemently brushing her hair. She doesn't realize what she's said until the driver presses his chest against her back, gently pinning her against the countertop. She lets go of the brush, holding the surface with both hands, trying to regain composure. His mouth slides along her neck, making her whole body shiver. He's still watching her in the mirror as he gently bites her earlobe with his teeth.

"You're the nastiest person I've ever met," she says, letting a moan escape her lips as the driver slides his hands under her top.

"I've been dreaming of this for years," he says, running his fingers up along her stomach. "Morals be damned."

In the mirror, she casts a glance at Charles, still asleep on the bed. She can't do this. She's not like that. She's never cheated on any of her partners, let alone him. He doesn't deserve that, she thinks, closing her eyes as Carlos licks her neck.

"We can't do this to Charles," she says, panting. "To Rebecca."

"Rebecca will be gone by dawn if you ask," Carlos replies, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"What about him?" she breathes, eyes sliding down his lips. "I can't do it, Carlos. I love him."

"Do you?" he asks, still holding her chin. "Say it one more time, and I swear I won't kiss you. I'll go back to my room and pretend nothing ever happened. We can even share breakfast in the morning, all four of us."

"I..." she stutters, closing her eyes.

"I'm about to do something incredibly reckless. I just need you to tell me if you're okay with it."

She doesn't reply. She just looks into his eyes, and crosses the distance between them. Their mouths collide violently, and both moan in unison, desperately clinging to each other. Her hands get lost in his hair, running along his scalp before pulling at the roots, eliciting a growl from him. He kisses her, biting her lips, encircling her face with his hands. His hands. His hands are everywhere. In her hair, on her back, on her butt. She feels like he's touching her everywhere at once, and his touch... His touch is burning, awakening things she's never felt. With anyone. She feels like molten lava. Like electricity.

He doesn't waste a second. He's too scared she'll snap out of it, change her mind. In one swift motion of the arm, he picks her up, sitting her down on the countertop, spreading her legs with his own body. His lips never leave her : he's exploring her neck, her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, anything to get a taste of her.

He's afraid that he'll only have her that one time. That he'll have to live forever in the memory of that night. So he memorizes everything. The beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. The one on her neck. The fine white scar above her eyebrow. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the ones she earned through years of hearty laughter. He sniffs her, almost like an animal, absorbing her perfume until his head spins. He's so desperate, so pathetic for her, and he would probably be embarrassed by his own behavior if she weren't doing the same on her side. Her fingers trace every vein in his arms, every muscle in his back. She runs her tongue over his teeth, bites his lips, tugs at his hair as if she wanted to keep a lock of it in a necklace.

So far, they had just been kissing. Something she would have a very hard time justifying to Charles, but which could be ruled as a... distasteful accident. But as Carlos grabs her top, making her raise her arms in the air to take it off, immediately going for her breasts, she knows it's too late. That there will be no turning back. She's panting now, and over the shoulder of the Spaniard, as his mouth finds one of her nipples, she steals a glance at her boyfriend. Sound asleep. Unaware.

Carlos continues his descent, lower and lower, tracing a path with his tongue from her breasts to her belly button and down to her lower abdomen. Urgently, almost savagely, he tears off her floral skirt and her thong with both hands in one harsh movement, throwing them on the floor. He's been so impatient, so hurried all this time that when he finally kneels before her, her entire body tenses, bracing for impact.

But the impact doesn't happen.

Not yet. Carlos softly plants kisses on her pubic mound. On the insides of her thighs. On her knees. Anywhere but where she needs him the most.

"Please," she begs, breathless. "Please don't make me wait."

"I've been waiting for four years," he replies, looking at her through his long lashes, amber eyes diving into hers, "You'll survive a few more seconds."

When his mouth finally meets her core, she tilts her head back, moaning. He's slow. So deliberately slow. For years, she's driven him crazy, obsessing over every thought of hers. His revenge is childish. Immature. He's not proud of it, but he wants to drive her insane. To see her lose her mind because of him, just for once. She's having none of it, bucking her hips until his nose gets lost in her folds and finally, he snaps. Grabbing her by the ass, he brings her impossibly closer, lapping, nibbling, biting, even. Her back is pressed against the mirror, one leg over his shoulder, the other hanging down. She's closing her eyes, covering her mouth. Her moans. Praying that Charles hears nothing. Sees nothing.

With the tips of her toes, she finds his groin. Her touch is so soft. Barely there. His response is immediate, and she feels his growl reverberate through her entire core. Continuing his assault, his fingers join his mouth as he circles her clit before inserting one inside of her. Then two. He's watching her, somehow getting harder every time she moans, every time she tugs at his hair.

"I need you," she says between two breaths. "I don't know how much time we have, and I... I need to feel you inside."

He could have passed out right here, just hearing those words leave her lips. He rises, capturing her lips again, while she takes hold of his t-shirt, stripping it off. And then, they hug. Their skins are burning with desire, but there's nothing sexual here. For a few seconds, they stay like that, absolutely silent. Clinging to each other. The embrace tears them both apart. It's almost violent, suffocating, the way all those what's ifs, we could haves and others if only we'd knowns fill the room in those few seconds. The hug is heavy with things that'll never be. Things that'll never leave this embrace. This room. Feeling something wet reach his shoulder, Carlos pulls back. She's crying.

He seizes her lips again, yet this kiss feels so different from the previous ones. It's no longer a kiss of lust, of desire. It's a farewell kiss. He knows it. She knows it too.

Her hands crawl along his chest until they reach the button of his pants, which she pops open with a flick of expert fingers. He helps her remove the garment, which also falls to the ground, along with all the others. In this room, in this Cuban hotel, they are finally completely naked, pressed against each other. He kisses her again, intoxicated by her, her scent, her taste, while his hand finds his cock, stroking it gently. He's so lost in her, he almost doesn't notice her own hand chasing his, stroking him softly. And then, in a new kiss, he presses against her before entering her.

For a few moments, neither of them moves. He, concentrating like never before to not finish there and now. She, accepting the idea that another man than Charles has taken her, and that nothing will ever be the same again. Charles, she thinks, glancing towards the bedroom where her boyfriend has turned over, still asleep, but facing them. He's so close. So close to opening an eye and seeing his girlfriend and his teammate pressed against each other, forehead to forehead. Skin to skin. She's still looking at Charles when Carlos begins to move inside her, holding her tightly in his arms, pressing their chests together in an incredibly sensual motion.

"Tell me what you like. Tell me anything and I'll do it," he says, thrusting softly into her. "I want you to remember this. To remember me."

"I want you to make love to me as if I were yours."

It stings. It stings so fucking much, because the phrase reminds him that she doesn't belong to him. It stings because she's not entirely Charles' anymore, yet she'll never be entirely his either. From this night on, she'll be condemned to wander between them, to float between their desires, their loves. No matter how tightly he holds onto her, no matter how tight she feels around him, he'll never call her his. He obeys nevertheless, quickening his pace, capturing her lips.

His movements are precise, surgical. He feels her contracting around him, and the sensation drives him wild. Her hands are around his neck, seeking balance, support. His pace intensifies even more when he realizes something.

"Say my name," he asks, panting.

She knows why he asks for it, why he needs to hear it, so she doesn't question him.

"Carlos," she says, kissing him. "You're making me feel so good."

And it's true. In a way, it has nothing to do with his movements, with his skills as a lover. All those that he very surely possesses, but are only secondary tonight. It goes beyond that. It's about their connection. With each thrust, Carlos floods her with love, adoration, longing, with so many sensations that leave her feeling deliciously overwhelmed. He doesn't need to say it. Yet, in one thrust, one harsher than the others, he does.

"I love you", he breathes against her skin.

"I know," she says, holding his jaw with one hand, making him look at her, their lips brushing. "I've loved you all this time," she whispers back.

Her revelation must unlock something within him because suddenly, he lifts her, pressing her against the bathroom wall opposite from the sink, as she lets out a surprised cry, feeling him deeper than before. His thrusts resume, stronger, more aggressive. It's a good thing he's holding her as if his life depended on it, because everything is too much : the sensation of his body against hers, their feelings laid bare, the sounds he makes... Her head suddenly feels light, and she rests it in the crook of his neck as he continues to take her so deliciously.

She comes back to herself when she feels something stir in the pit of her stomach, something that takes her breath away.

"Carlos..." she starts.

"Tell me, baby," he replies, biting her ear. "Tell me everything."

"I'm feeling... I don't know... I'm feeling so, so good" she says, incoherent.

"Are you close?" he asks, still pouding into her.

"I've never felt anything like this," she says, panting. "Anything like you."

Then, everything explodes.

She can't hold back her scream, not caring about anything anymore, not even Charles, a few feet away. She's clinging to her lover, scratching his back. Trying to catch her breath. She clenches around him so tightly that he loses control, spilling into her in three thrusts, grunting.

"Give it to me, Carlos," she says. "I can take it. I can take you."

"Mi amor," he says, out of breath. "You're killing me," he adds, still thrusting into her, shooting some more ropes of cum into her cunt while groaning. "Te amo, te amo, te amo," he says, kissing her face.

The two bodies collapse on the floor, against the wall, nestled together in the intimacy of the small bathroom. She shivers, and he grabs a towel to wrap around her. Neither of them says a word. What is there to say, after all? Here, between these four tiled walls, they've already said everything. Shown everything. They've never been closer to each other. They've never been closer to anyone else. They'll probably never experience something like that ever again.

A few steps away from them, a sound of crumpled bedding alerts both of them.

"Babe?" comes Charles' sleepy voice, as their blood turn cold and she rises up impossibly fast to close the bathroom door, wobbling a bit, legs still weak after her orgasm.

"Go back to sleep, baby", she says loudly. "I'm just taking a shower."

There's no response, so after a few seconds, she opens the door again, seeing that Charles has fallen back asleep. Mouth slightly open.

"You have to go," she states, turning back to face Carlos, still sitting on the floor. Carlos stands up, and both of them dress in a heavy silence before quietly tip-toeing across the room. Once in the empty hallway, she gently closes the door of the room she shares with her boyfriend before letting out a breath. He knows what's coming. Something breaks in his eyes, and she feels her heart shatter.

"I meant everything," she says, head low. "I meant every word, every kiss. I'll forever regret the night we just shared, but not in the way you might think. I will regret for the rest of my life ever experimenting this happiness with you and having to let go of it. I love you, Carlos, like I've never loved anyone. That's why we shouldn't see each other again."

His dark eyes bore into hers, almost threateningly.

"Why?" he asks, raising his voice, and she winces, terrified that, on the other side of the door, Charles might wake up again. "Why stop yourself from being happy? Why give up on me?"

"I found a ring," she confesses, struggling to meet his gaze. "In his suitcase. He's going to propose to me, Carlos."

"If that's what it takes to have you forever, let me do it before him," he says, dropping to one knee as she looks away, tears welling up in her eyes. One more thing he'll have taken from Charles, she thinks. He'll forever be the first man to ever kneel before me. And he'll never even know this.

"Please, get up," she says, her voice trembling with a sob.

He does, and when he looks at her again, his eyes are filled with tears.

"Good night, Carlos," she says, taking a step back, holding the door knob to her room. She's gone in an instant, leaving him alone in the poorly lit hallway at half past three in the morning. Her scent all over his skin, her words all over his mind, her grip all over his heart.

#I'm not okay lol #might fuck around and write a part two with a pregnant reader #f1 #f1 2024 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #carlos sainz #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz x you #lilasamaaa #smut

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beilldeux · 9 months ago

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IT IS DONE!!!

My first comic full comic (that isn't a shit post lol)!! I'm excited! This was initially inspired by "My Oh My by Camila Cabello" and it has spurred an entire modern AU in my mind where Zoro is the last person that Luffy met - "Best For Last"

That was initially going to be a stand-alone comic, but since an entire universe is forming, I have at least five more floating around in my head, also inspired by other songs.

If you would like to help me keep creating full-time, please consider supporting me on Patreon!! Subscribers get rewards (digital downloads, prints, stickers, etc.), early access, NSFW content, and help me decide what to do next!

As a bonus (& b/c I like giving gifts), 1 OOMF gets a free print each month! Follow me on Twitter/X, I'm more active there!

Please help me keep creating and make a living!! Talk to me on Twitter :3c Support me on Patreon <3 Buy me a Ko-Fi ^^

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mclacedes · 2 months ago

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Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

2. in carlos' room

warnings: nothing

summary: in which Lando invites Y/N to hang out after Miami

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 1k

✧ previously • next up

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . MAY 6TH. 　⁺ 　 . ✦

you couldn't sleep.

the notepad in your lap felt heavier than it should, the three sentences you had written mocking you from the page. you stared at them, your mind turning over every possible direction to take, but no words seemed worthy enough to follow. they lingered, daring you to finish them, but you couldn't escape the weight they carried.

“don’t speak, no, don’t try

it’s been a secret for the longest time

don’t run, no, don’t hide

been running from you for the longest time”

the lines thrummed with an undeniable truth, pulling you in deeper with each pulse, each syllable. it was a truth you weren’t ready to face yet, but it wouldn't let go. your thoughts circled, skimming the edge of something you'd rather not admit to yourself.

the sound of the pen tapping against the notepad broke the silence, the rhythmic click a small comfort in the otherwise still room. but the question weighed heavily on your mind, refusing to leave. did he want you? and more importantly, could you handle everything that came with him—especially your father?

the memory of the conversation you’d had with your fathe after leaving the pool came rushing back, sharp and bitter. you’d found him standing outside your door, arms crossed, his eyes narrowing as you approached.

“where were you?” his voice was calm, but there was a clear edge to it, like he already knew you weren't telling the whole truth.

“by the pool,” you answered, trying to sound unaffected, “i needed some air.”

his gaze sharpened. “you know you’re supposed to stay low tonight,” he said, his tone laced with disappointment. “this isn’t just about you—it’s about...”

“the team, i know, dad." you swallowed, trying to keep the defensiveness from seeping into your voice. “i wasn’t gone long.”

he didn’t buy it. his eyes searched your face for any sign of dishonesty. “next time, tell me where you're going.” his voice lowered, suspicion creeping in. “alone?”

you hesitated, your stomach turning.

“yeah, alone.” it came out smoother than you expected, but the lie stung like it always did.

he was quiet for a moment, weighing your answer. finally, he nodded, though the doubt in his eyes lingered. “fine. just remember what’s at stake here. for all of us.”

you nodded, the weight of his words pressing down on you as he walked away. once the door clicked shut, you leaned against it, exhaling sharply. you had gotten away with it this time, but just barely.

back in your room, the silence felt suffocating. the words on the notepad seemed to stare back at you, mocking your hesitation. you had no idea how to finish the verse. the melody looped in your mind, the lines demanding to be sung, but it was his face, his presence, that kept blocking your focus.

the version of him you wanted to paint stood just out of reach, too real, too complicated. a dangerous combination of charm and recklessness. you couldn't stop imagining what might've happened if oscar hadn't stepped in when he did—how far you might've let lando push you, how deep you'd have fallen into something you didn't fully understand yet.

just as the thoughts began to spiral, your phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a message that was all too familiar. of course, it was lando.

“we’re in carlos’ room right now.”

“wanna join us?”

you hesitated, your finger hovering over the message. after a moment, you replied with a single question:

“firstly, who’s ‘we’?”

“myself, fewtrell, george, lewis, max v, charles, pierre n carlos ofc.”

“just having a drink and chatting. we’re on the 11th floor, room 202 in case you come.”

you considered it for a moment before standing and heading to your closet. a change of clothes was in order. you swapped the black nightgown for a simple black sundress, sliding it on before you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. this wasn’t about looking perfect—it was about not overthinking it.

when you knocked on carlos’s door, you could hear the laughter from inside fade just slightly. after a moment of murmured voices, the door swung open to reveal lando, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“cinderella,” he said with a grin.

“norris,” you shot back, raising an eyebrow.

“norris? i call you cinderella, and you call me norris, y/n?” he asked, clearly confused.

“as far as i’m concerned, that’s your name.”

he rolled his eyes, but the smile never left his face. “that is precisely my point!”

“i won’t call you prince charming. drop it, lando,” you warned, pushing past him to enter the room.

“but i—”

“i will call my father for you if you don’t drop it, norris,” you threatened, your voice a little firmer than you intended as you moved past him.

he stepped aside, but his hand rested lightly on the small of your back as he closed the door behind you, the touch lingering longer than necessary.

you made your way into the room, your eyes immediately finding max verstappen. “y/n!” he shouted, grinning from ear to ear.

“hey, maxie!” you waved back, then turned to carlos, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, clearly having the time of his life.

“good to know max is the only one worth mentioning and greeting, y/n. really good,” carlos teased.

“oh, c’mon, not you too, carlitos!” you shot back, trying to keep it light. “are you going to the lando norris school of being a pain in the ass?”

“funny, y/n. real funny,” lando muttered from behind you, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

you sat down, pulling your legs beneath you, but the atmosphere was already shifting. the room was a mix of chatter and laughter, the boys gathered around a Monopoly board, bills of real cash scattered haphazardly across the floor. an open bottle of Jack Daniel's sat in the middle of the group, the liquid sloshing as they laughed and argued.

“oh god, are we betting for real?” you asked, eyeing the game with mild disbelief.

“afraid, cinderella?” lando teased, his voice light but with a definite edge.

“give me a bottle of wine and i might end all of you pussies.” you smirked, the banter flowing effortlessly as you settled in.

“can somebody hide that bottle i bought?” lewis joked.

with that, you know you were in for a night that was anything but predictable.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

INSTAGRAM

ynupdates

❤️ by user7, ynfan14, ynfan9 and more

ynupdates: Y/N Stella via Instagram stories, “cinderella & the rats”

click here to open comment section

user8: who do we think are the rats?

landofan7: i think she's with the boys (maybe the ferrari boys, max and lando? idk)

ynfan2: yeah she's great friends with them!

user10: i just want to know if *he* is there

landofan17: y/n baby, tell me a secret...

ynfan18: monopoly post race? simply LOVELY!

landofan15: i might never recover from this speculation ...

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rrxnjun · 2 years ago

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TAKE THE STAIRS ✲ n. jaemin

pairing. na jaemin x fem! reader starring. na jaemin, ning yizhuo genre. college au, strangers to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive. warnings. alcohol consumption, throwing up, swearing word count. 18k (18.666) a/n. thank you all so much for 1k followers! consider this fic a small gift of celebration

playlist. candy - baekhyun ; honey - l'arc en ciel ; take the stairs - coin ; cutie - coin ; rose-colored boy - paramore ; don't go yet - camila cabello ; hot crush lover - blu detiger ; teenage dream - 5sos (cover)

after having an unexpected guest witness the neverending quarrels with your roommate, na jaemin starts to practically live at your place— or— where yizhuo's flegmatic project partner starts to put a suspicious amout of effort into their assignment.

✲ PART 2 OF THE SIMPLIFY ROMANCE SERIES ✲

Hot droplets of water wash over you like raindrops during a heavy storm, the mirror fogging up at the hot temperature you always choose to shower your body in, fingers trailing through your hair making you finally relax after a long day at college. You spent the day presenting your project and having a test from Physics, so you only deserve a good shower. You would even consider taking a bath, but your small apartment doesn’t have a bathroom big enough to contain a bathtub, so a good, scorching hot shower will have to suffice.

Now, you are a hard worker– however, you also like to wait until the last reasonable time to start working on your project. And while you’re best friends with procrastination, stress also decided to visit you for the time being; since, again, there was not much time for you to finish your project, and so in the whole process of working on it and doing extensive research about a topic you weren’t really that interested in in the first place, you forgot to take care of yourself. You wouldn’t even notice at first– not until one day when Yizhuo glared at you with questions in her eyes from the couch, seeing you go to the convenience store at 10pm with your home slippers still on because of your distracted mind– but when you looked at yourself in the mirror after arriving from school today, the image of your sweaty face and hair so oily you could probably fry a schnitzel on the extraction of the liquid from your follicles, you must admit that you’ve been neglecting your appearance for quite some time now, and so a well deserved annual everything-shower is the only thing on your mind right now.

Reaching over to the side of the shower that has various shelves installed, taking your hair conditioner into your palms and opening up the bottle, you get ready for the familiar smell of citrus that always hits your nose and makes you smile in satisfaction; yet, no matter how hard you try, the pleasant scent doesn’t come– and neither does the actual conditioner.

Huffing, even slapping the bottom of the bottle a few times, squeezing the tube as hard as you can– you tried everything, but to no use. Thinking back to the last few weeks, you try to remember when you bought the conditioner– because you swear it hasn’t been that long. There’s no way you already ran out, you think, as your eyes scan over the various bottles of other products in your shower, opting to use something your roommate has in stash– when you notice that there is no other hair conditioner in the shower, which makes the gears in your brain click in realization.

Sighing, you finish showering as you prepare your mental tangent in your brain. Drying off your body and slipping into your underwear, you put on the largest T-shirt you more often than not sleep in, not even bothering to put your hair up as you roughly scrunch it with your towel to get most of the water out, opting to leave the strands lay on your shoulders instead, in their full wet, naked mole rat glory.

Swinging the door to the bathroom open, you yell out the first sentence that comes to your mind– despite planning your outburst in your head beforehand.

“Ning Yizhuo! You used up all of my fucking hair conditioner again!” you scream into the apartment, knowing damn well that the walls are thin and she can hear you. “You promised you won’t use it after the last time! That shit is fucking expensive, y’know,” you mutter, voice still raised so your roommate can hear you.

“I’ll buy you a new one, chill out,” Yizhuo finally replies, her voice coming out of your living room. Your head snaps that way, feet dangling closer into the doorway.

“Yeah, well, maybe consider buying your own conditioner so you don’t have to replace mine every other week,” you spit, rolling your eyes in annoyance, “or at least buy a new one when it runs out, so I can actually use– oh.”

Stopping mid-sentence, your sudden outburst of anger is cut short as you notice another presence in the living room. There’s a man sitting on your sofa, his head turned towards you, flashing you an amused grin, and when his eyes scan you from head to toe, you’re suddenly painfully aware of your current state– only in your panties, with your hair wet, appearing as a chicken left outside in the rain, the wetness of your locks most likely dampening the thin fabric of your shirt to the point that it’s basically see through, revealing more to the stranger than you’d like. Crossing your arms at your chest, alert, you feel heat rising to your cheeks as your eyes jump from your roommate to the stranger in your living room, textbooks and an opened laptop scattered across the coffee table, making you believe it must be your roommate’s classmate of some sort.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” she sighs and rolls her eyes, looking at you with amusement when she notices your distressed state, “this is Jaemin, by the way. We’re doing a project together.”

Humming, you look at the man again, taking a notice of his casual, yet attractive demeanor. Black bangs falling into his eyes and Adidas joggers hugging his legs, you press your lips into a thin line– somewhat resembling an embarrassed smile, before you slowly walk out of the room for the sake of their privacy and also your dignity. “Nice to meet you,” you mumble on your way out, “I’m Y/N.”

And before you’re out of the door, you turn your head towards your roommate again, biting back an ironic smile. “How nice of you to notify me that we’ll have guests over!”

With that, you’re out.

You guess that embarrassing yourself in front of Na Jaemin is how life is going to go now. Don’t get me wrong– the next time it happened, you were notified of his visit; after screaming at Yizhuo about how she handled it the last time around– and you even put some effort into your appearance, as if to balance the absolute atrocity he had to deal with the first time he laid his eyes on you. Not that you really care about his opinion, or that you want him to think you’re at least a little bit attractive, of course. You’d say this is just the basic human need to look presentable in front of people you don’t even know that well.

While you were notified about the fact that he would come over in the afternoon to work on the project, you still didn’t have it in you to just casually walk over to the living room and hang out with them, though. On top of that, they were doing a project in Neurophysiology together– and no matter how much laughter and noise you heard from the living room, where the two crashed for the time being, you still didn’t think it was okay for you to intrude to say hi to the man, or find enough courage to just hang out in the room with them, enjoying their talks and quarrel. It wasn’t the same as when you were doing a project with Minjeong from your Biology class or when Yizhuo had a few assignments to do with your mutual friend Jimin, the three of you working on your own stuff in your spacious living room, while also talking gossip and laughing about the latest fashion trends on Tiktok together.

But sitting in your room on a Wednesday evening, completely alone; because your roommate was busy working on a project and none of your other friends– not even the online ones– were there to entertain you with their talks, you had nothing to do. The only thing you could come up with while trying to entertain yourself was to watch the latest season of The Great British Bake Off, your legs swiftly moving you towards your table, where your laptop lay untouched, opening it and turning on the show.

Everyone knows that feeling of desiring something they see on the screen of the show they’re currently watching, right? The feeling only intensifies when it comes to food– delicious food, on top of that– and suddenly, you’re no stranger to the cravings in your stomach as you watch the contestants cut slices of cakes and taste the sweet, tasty pastries and doughs. Maybe you could look around your room and find something to eat to satisfy those needs, but something is telling you that the secret stash of M&M’s you had hidden in your room, away from the eyes of Ning Yizhuo– the resident M&M lover– was now long empty, the image of the packaging thrown in the trash can now vivid in your brain.

But the more you keep watching, the more you crave something sweet, and you know that if you don’t stand up from your place at the table and walk over to the snack cupboard in the kitchen, you’ll go insane. And with this knowledge, you take a deep breath in and out, trying to find some courage in you to show your face to your roommate and her new friend; your hand is soon on the door click and you almost watch yourself from the third perspective as your socked feet stumble out of the safety of your own room, bringing you towards the living room where the two of them have been sitting, intending to pass by them and silently take some sweets from the kitchen.

“Hi Y/N!” the man greets you, almost making you jump up and bump into the TV on the right side of the living room. Na Jaemin has a contagious smile on his face, and while you vividly remember greeting him when he arrived, just seconds before closing the door to your room, you still greet him again, trying hard to maintain the same amount of enthusiasm as him.

The conversation doesn’t progress much from that, the two of them too busy reading some article on Yizhuo’s laptop that’s currently sitting on one of each of their thighs, rimmed glasses adoring your roommate’s face, and you allow yourself to complete your mission as you walk over to the kitchen that connects to the room.

Reaching over to the kitchen cabinet that is designated to hold all sorts of various snacks both you and your roommate love to eat and share on movie nights, you search over the stash and try to find something that fits your cravings perfectly. Eyes scanning over Skittles, some chocolate bars and even a bag of chips, you decide to take all of them– because you never know, sometimes you have the strange desire to chase down the sweetness with some salt– and also look over the room for a drink you could take with you, since you’ve gotten a bit thirsty over the course of the last few hours you spent camping in your room.

Holding all of the items in your arms, looking as if you’ve just done a grocery run and forgot to take a bag with you, you almost don’t see the floor below your feet as you walk– no, scratch that– you literally do not see the ground below your feet at all.

We mentioned you embarrassing yourself in front of Na Jaemin again at the very beginning of this scene. You may be wondering where that part comes to play– and let me tell you, the moment is now, and it has correlation with the sheer fact that you can’t see where you’re walking and you’re also rushing to get back to your room quickly, hide yourself away from their eyes and finish the episode of bake-off while munching on the party mix of snacks you’re planning on creating.

In your true fashion, considering all the variables of the situation you found yourself in right now, the ground is suddenly swept from beneath your feet as you trip over the door sill that separates the kitchen from the living room, your body falling to the ground with all the snacks in your hands and the bottle of Diet coke secured under your shoulder.

Desperate to keep the snacks intact, you don’t even drop the bag of chips to the floor before you fall to make some room in your palms to try to soften the fall. No, you fall down like a rag doll, face first to the laminated floor, the sound of your body hitting the ground resonating through both your brain and the whole apartment. A few seconds later, the sound of a bottle rolling across the length of the living room fills your ears and you feel a sharp pain in your side, the humiliation and growing stinginess in your knees fully hitting now, when the shock is gone.

A few seconds pass, with your body lying limp on the ground– not even from the pain, just from the sheer embarrassment of the thought of facing Na Jaemin again after this– and a sound of your roommate trying to bite back her laughter fills your ears when you finally wake up and wiggle a little on the floor, trying to get up. At least the bag of chips stayed intact, you think– all of the effort was worth it in the end… or at least you hope.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” the now familiar voice of Na Jaemin fills your ears, and while he does sound a little concerned, laughter fills his voice when the touch of his hand lands on your elbow, trying to help you stand up from your fatal position.

“I’m perfectly fine, yeah,” you nod as you suppress back a scowl, the amused look that meets your eyes once you turn your head to face your visitor that took it upon himself to help you up making you feel all sorts of emotions– humiliation, however, is winning by a mile.

“Are you hurt?” he giggles out, and the question almost sounds mocking with how his face breaks out into a pained scowl, seemingly trying to hide the clear grin wanting to settle on his handsome face.

“No,” you shake your head vigorously, tears rimming your eyes from the mix of embarrassment and the sharp stinginess in your knees– you’re sure there’s gonna be a big, purple bruise forming on your legs by tomorrow morning. “I’m okay.”

In that very moment, Yizhuo finally breaks out into laughter– as if she was really waiting for you to stand up, in case you fell dead and she would then have to feel guilty for laughing at your falling corpse– and the absurdity of it all makes you join them, the caring man no longer trying to bite back his amusement either as he softly brushes his hand over your arm before he leans down and picks up the bottle of coke that rolled all the way to the corner of the room and the pack of Skittles that managed to fall from your strong grasp.

“Here you go,” he says, shaking his head at you when he sees you still holding the bag of chips to your chest. “Damn, you guarded those chips with your whole life, didn’t you?”

Nodding, you snicker. “I put my whole life on the line for these.”

Accompanied by their amused giggles, alongside with Yizhuo’s pained sigh as she wipes her cheeks from the stray tears you caused with your comedic fall, you take the snacks Jaemin’s offering you, thanking him for the help as you escape the room with a final bow to end your performance.

“I was glad to be your fun little commercial break, but I’ll get going now,” you say, “good luck with the project!”

And with that, you disappear back into your room, setting your mind to never ever show your face in front of Na Jaemin again.

While you thought your resolution of never ever wanting to see Na Jaemin again out of the embarrassment your first and second encounter cost you, it seems to be that it’s easier said than done when you end up in Liu Yangyang’s basement, the whole place smelling of weed and cheap alcohol, standing right opposite of the man that haunts you in your darkest nightmares only a few days after the initial meeting.

There is a reflex in you that makes you want to turn on your heel and hide, maybe even bury yourself alive as you recognise the raven-haired boy, his bright grin making your stomach twist uncontrollably as he comes up to you and Yizhuo, a red single cup in his hand and a leather jacket adorning his shoulders. Something inside of you is telling you to get ready for the worst possible outcome of this situation, and you don’t know why your fight or flight instinct is so alert today, but you presume that Na Jaemin just has that effect on people as your roommate hides behind you and tries to get out of her project partner’s sight.

“Hello, ladies!” the man greets you as soon as he reaches you two– with Yizhuo still tugging herself behind your figure. “Didn’t expect to see you two here!”

Smiling, although a little tight-lipped, you turn around to finally reveal your roommate– the only reason why you’re in this disgustingly-smelling basement in the first place. It’s not like you don’t have friends– you do, it’s just that most of them aren’t actually your friends. They are Yizhuo’s friends, who just happen to be your friends, because your roommate decided that because you two are best friends, she needs to drag you everywhere with her– her love language, it seems– and that’s how you always end up in the same social circles.

Her dragging you around to places also applies to her weird first meetings with guys. And while you agree with the fact that she needs to be careful around new people– men, especially– so she doesn’t get stolen for human trafficking, you’ve been to enough cringey first dates with her to know that you should start saying no to her more often. Maybe tonight was the day you should’ve started, you think– as she asked you if you wanted to go to a party with her, since Jung Sungchan invited her– and while you could argue that a party in Liu Yangyang’s basement isn’t the best place for a first date, or that there’s no use in you being there in the first place, since other people are present, you agreed; because frankly speaking, everything’s better than sitting home alone and watching Netflix. Besides, you promised Yizhuo you wouldn’t watch the new episodes of Blue lock without her, and if you were left unsupervised, you know you’d break that plea– so here you are. Even though at this very moment, you deeply wish you weren’t.

“Yeah, me neither,” you mumble as your roommate, seemingly embarrassed to be caught hanging out with Na Jaemin’s acquaintance, slowly comes up from behind you, scratching the back of her neck in embarrassment. “Yizhuo here has a date with someone, so I was forced to third-wheel,” you muse, earning yourself a slap to your shoulder from the subject of the sentence.

Jaemin’s eyes widen to twice of their original size– a shock very evident in his features– and you wish you didn’t see him so taken aback at the fact that your insanely beautiful roommate was getting invited to dates left and right, because something about it makes your stomach acid boil in a weird way. “A date with who?”

“Whom,” you mumble, nit-picky at the correct grammar.

“Huh?”

“With whom,” you repeat yourself, seeing as Jaemin shakes his head in disbelief and chuckles.

“Okay, literature major,” he rolls his eyes and averts his attention back to your roommate, the comment making you furrow your brows for two things– one, correct grammar has nothing to do with literature and two, how the fuck does he even know your major in the first place, “you have a date with whom? Because I hope it’s not Beomgyu. He lies about his age.”

Hearing a sigh escape your roommate’s lips, you watch the interaction with uttermost interest. “No,” she mumbles, “it’s Sungchan, actually.”

“You’re having a date… at a frat party?”

You chuckle at the comment. At least someone has common sense here.

“Unfortunately, yeah,” Yizhuo notes, seeing as Jaemin empathetically nods at her and smoothes a hand down her back before he nudges her in the direction of the tall boy. Watching her leave, you mentally pray for her to come back and never leave you alone at a party where Na Jaemin is present– because quite frankly, you are very much okay with looking awkward in front of anyone else; be it strangers or the acquaintances slash distant friends you’ve made along the way on these gatherings– but when it’s Na Jaemin, the idea of him seeing you aimlessly walk around and try to invite yourself to conversations with people you distantly know makes you want to crawl out of your own skin and set it on fire.

Sighing purposelessly, looking around to see if you recognise anyone that you could find a safe harbor in at least for a couple of hours before you look for Yizhuo again and drag her home, you notice the boy not leaving your side. Locking your eyes with him, you hear him clear his throat before speaking up again.

“It’s actually so good to see you here, because we were about to play beer pong and you’re just the person I need for my team,” he says, offering you his signature grin.

Finding the last bits of your sanity, you shake your head. “Oh, you don’t want to play beer pong with me.”

“Why?”

“I’m no good,” you admit, scratching the back of your neck, “I’m like, the least athletic person in this room. And I also can’t handle my liquor well.”

Jaemin only rolls his eyes in annoyance at your comments, gently shoving you towards the direction of a large ping-pong table in one of the corners of the spacious basement. The game is already prepared, a pair consisting of a tall, ripped man with an adorable eye-smile and a person that gets introduced to you as his best friend waiting for someone to join them.

“Come on, I bet you can outdrink me,” Jaemin jokes, basically forcing you to the game as he hosts a ping-pong ball into your hold, looking at you with expecting eyes.

This evening is the moment where you learn that Na Jaemin is a man of many talents; the first one you find is his irresistible puppy look that makes you comply with everything he says. You don’t know how people have it in them to say no to him, but when he’s ushering you to take the first shoot towards the cups on the other side of the table, you only nod and sigh in the image of what’s gonna be your hangover in the morning.

Leaning back a little, feeling like a true Lebron James about to take his winning score, you aim for the plastic cups and throw the little white ball into space. You haven’t even taken a drink yet, but the ball goes where it wants and not where you want it to go, the small object hitting the floor instead, making your companion shake his head at you and click his tongue.

“I told you I’m bad,” you defend yourself, throwing your hands into the air in a defensive position.

“All good with me,” Jaemin grins, “I’m like, the least competitive person in this room. So as long as neither of us end up throwing up in Liu Yangyang’s backyard, I’m okay with losing this game.”

Rolling your eyes at his nature, refusing to relax even after his roommate Jeno– the boy on the other side of the table– scores and hits two cups in a row, each one of you drinking one, the bitter taste of beer falling down your throat, you find the second of Na Jaemin’s many talents. It’s playing beer pong– and even though he almost never misses, your opponent’s side is much quicker with their game and you end up drinking most of the cups in an apology for being so shitty at the game.

“Come on! You can do it,” you hear Jaemin cheer for you from beside you, your glossy eyes scanning over his figure. You’ve drunk quite a lot now, your distance-assuming abilities thrown out of the window as you reach back to throw the last shoot, body getting out of balance and threatening to meet the ground in the laws of gravity.

Jaemin’s hands quickly shoot up to steady you, a hesitant hand reaching to your waist as he giggles in your ear, and suddenly, you wonder if it’s been this hot in the room the whole time, when your hand lets go and the ball falls carelessly to the middle of the table.

And when you take at least two shots with Jaemin and his roommate, the game long forgotten as you two lost, you find yourself in Liu Yangyang’s backyard, Na Jaemin’s talent of being an absolute gentleman shining through as he holds your hair back for you when you throw up into the bushes.

“Okay, so… you can’t outdrink me. Noted,” the man hums, a gentle pat to your back sending shivers down your spine.

And with that, you swear you’re never going to show your face in front of Na Jaemin ever again. For the third time, yes.

At least the third time’s the charm…?

The sun greets you in the morning with an aggressive shine to your eyes, reminding you of the actions of yesterday evening slash very late night. There’s only one reason why your blinds aren’t shut in the morning, since you hate waking up to the hot beams of sunlight in your eyes– they always make you sweat and don’t let you continue in your quiet somber– and the reason is that you must’ve been too drunk yesterday to remember to close them.

And sure enough, once you open your eyes with a grunt and tumble in your sheets, the memories of yesterday evening flood into your brain the same way water did to your room when your ex-roommate Yeri forgot to turn off the water in the bathtub in your Freshman year. You decided to not live with the girl since, and you also quite loved the idea of not having a bathtub in your new place with Yizhuo; at least it meant that the chance of your roommate forgetting to turn the faucet off and flooding the apartment was significantly lower– you could say this experience gave you some sort of PTSD.

When the sunlight gets too hot on your back that you can’t handle it anymore, you open the window to let some fresh air in and stumble into the kitchen, ready to drink a glass of water and forget about the last night’s party. You don’t usually drink that much– because god knows you don’t need a lot to get tipsy– but getting caught up in a drinking game was definitely your first, and while you found it quite fun at first, you would’ve never allowed yourself to play if it wasn’t for Na Jaemin, your roommate’s project partner, dragging you into this mess.

At least Yizhuo is a good drinker, for the most part. She gets drunk, but stays responsible. You don’t know how you’d get home safe if it wasn’t for the responsible girl by your side.

The sight that meets your eye in the kitchen is one you would not want to see after a night out. The sink is full of dirty dishes– because your small apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher– and when you open the cupboard for an empty glass to fill with water, you find it empty, all of them used and unwashed in the silver basin.

Heaving out a sigh, you shake your head in disappointment and get mentally prepared to do the dishes. Reminded by the fact that it was you who cooked dinner last night before heading out to the party, it was Yizhuo’s turn to wash up– you two agreed on this arrangement to make sure everyone puts a hand in when it comes to household chores. If one of you is cooking a shared meal, the other one cleans up. It was a good deal, you got used to it fairly quickly, but still, your roommate has her flaws, and sticking to the rules you two made up together is surely one of them.

“Yizhuo! It was your turn to wash the dishes last night!” you yell out, not really caring that she’s most likely still asleep, as you turn on the faucet and get to work. While it was your roommate’s turn to clean up, you’re also not willing to wait for her until she gets up from bed and decides it’s a good time to complete the task, because truth be told, you really need some coffee right now and you only have two mugs in the whole apartment– both of them sitting at the bottom of the sink, dirty with last night’s tea.

“I know we were in a rush to get to the party, but for god’s sake, if you had the audacity to be all up in my ear about how I’m taking too long to get ready, you could’ve used up that time to wash the fucking dishes, man!” you continue your small tangent, your slight anger issues getting the best out of you as you scrub the oily pan. “Now the food’s stuck on the plates and it won’t come off! I’ll quit cooking for you if you don’t clean up, I swear to god!”

Sighing a little, you turn the water on and finally get to washing off the dish soap, shaking your head a little in both disbelief and unpleasant emotions filling your insides. This is not how you imagined your day to go, and soon enough, your stomach is growling with the need of food– you two have slept in until lunchtime– and you still don’t have either the energy to cook something again, or the appliances to do so. Hearing footsteps fill the small room, not bothering to even look at the source of them, you decide to continue your little rant with the premise of your roommate finally listening to it now that she’s present in the room.

“Fancy seeing you here, dear Yizhuo,” you mutter under your nose, irony filling your voice, “good to finally see you in the kitchen, now that I’m done with the dishes,” you grunt, turning the water off and wiping your hands on the kitchen towel that’s been hanging off the counter.

“Man, living with you must really suck, Ning,” you hear a male voice joke, the familiarity of it making you jump in your place as you look at the source of it, a little bit panicked.

His face looks fresh and lively– not a sign of last night’s drinking in his features– and his hands are full with two bags of takeout that he swiftly sits on the table, his figure now awkwardly standing in the corner of the room. Yizhuo is leaning on one of the chairs, eyes a little empty and tired, as if she has just woken up from deep sleep, her hair a mess on the top of her head and her pajamas still on. God knows neither of you look ready for a visitor– a male one, on top of that– and yet, there is still one standing in your kitchen right now, voice sing-songy and body dressed in athleisure, as if he’s just came out of his morning gym session.

Which he probably has. He seems like the type.

“What are you doing here?” Yizhuo beats you to the question, your eyes jumping from her figure to your morning– well, lunch time– visitor.

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? We’re working on our project today, Yizhuo, that’s what I’m doing here,” the man complains with an offended pout, almost a scolding tone to his voice that makes you look at your roommate with shock in her eyes. She knew she’d be hungover today and still chose to work on the project? Is she truly out of her mind?

“I swear we didn’t have it scheduled for today, Jaemin-” she sighs as she straightens her back and looks at the male with irritation and a hint of exhaustion before he jumps in and shakes his head in disapproval.

“We did, I swear to god! You just forgot,” he shakes his head, satisfied when the girl is left speechless in the kitchen, his eyes drifting to you before he smiles and moves closer to the kitchen table, opening up the boxes of takeout and offering you a proud nod. “I knew you two would be tired today, so I brought some chinese with me! We can have lunch and then get right to working!”

The enthusiasm spreading off his features is almost contagious– you swear it would be, if it wasn’t for the fact that your head was severely aching and you still haven't had a single sip of water since you’ve woken up. Jaemin scrambles through your kitchen, totally uninvited, but also unstopped, until he finds some chopsticks and cutlery in one of the drawers and then puts them all in the middle of the dining table, acting as if he was at his own house, and not in a place he’s been to three times, including this one.

“Well? What are you waiting for? It’s gonna get cold,” he chirps as he sits at the table and dives in one of the boxes, humming in satisfaction as the food hits his tongue.

Staring at the male, still not quite believing your eyes, but no longer feeling as humiliated in front of him when you realize that you embarrassing yourself in front of him is your habit by now, you only opt to a sigh as you sit at the table and taste the chinese, the noodles falling down your throat finally providing some comfort to your upset stomach. Jaemin smiles at you– the kind of smile where his eyes crinkle up into small moon crescents– with his full cheeks on display when you meet his eye, seemingly satisfied with his mission.

“Fucking hell,” you hear your roommate mutter as she escapes the room, seemingly to put some more presentable clothes on. Jaemin pays it no attention as he brightens up a little, pointing one of his chopsticks your way after he swallows and speaks up again.

“And hey! Thanks to me, you don’t even have to do the dishes now!” he exclaims, his proud face on full display making you stop in your tracks when you go to tell him that’s not true, since you still have to wash the reusable chopsticks you’re both holding in your hands, afraid of bursting his bubble as you only fakely smile at the male, nodding.

“That’s… great, Jaemin. Really nice.”

Walking across the school building, you find your stomach growling once again, the relief only spreading more on your insides when you realize that the last class of the day just ended and you are headed to the cafeteria to grab some lunch. Noting that it’s Tuesday and your schedules match with your best-friend-and-roommate-in-one’s today, you swiftly walk towards the crowded space and get the lunch with your school ID card, the cafeteria lady looking at you with a wobbly side-smile you only recognise to be her customer service demeanor washing off after the long day. Thanking her and scanning the room with your eyes, you quickly find your roommate waving at you from the corner of the room, calling you over with the motion of her hand. You’re actually excited to see her, until you notice another figure sitting right next to her– the figure being none other than the intruder of your home peace for the last few weeks.

You’re seeing Na Jaemin quite a lot lately, you realize, and it’s not even your project partner to begin with. Not that you mind, of course; he’s a nice guy, a good-looking one as well, to say the least, but there’s just something about his constant close proximity to your roommate that makes your stomach drop whenever you see him in her presence. This feeling has been there for a while now, and if you recognised it in you, you never paid it much attention, but with him sticking to her like glue even outside of the premises of your apartment, it almost makes you turn on your heel and walk out of the cafeteria to eat your lunch alone– daring to even say it’s the better choice, for you think you could throw up any second at the image of their enthusiastic smiles. You can’t really put your finger on the feeling– you’re not really sure how to name it, or what to think of it. You just know that the strange annoyance bubbling inside of you whenever it comes is one of the most frustrating things you’ve ever dealt with your whole, entire life.

But it’s too late to walk out of the cafeteria now, and so you choose to put up a smile and walk over to the two, sitting at the vacant spot opposite of them and get to eating.

“Hello,” Jaemin greets you, voice cheerful– does he ever feel down? –when you sit down with your tray and smile at the two.

“Hi,” you nod, “what’s up?”

“We were just talking about this thing on Friday,” he jumps in, looking at you from above his finished plate, Yizhuo nodding along to his conversation. She keeps chewing on her lunch as the man continues his speech. “My friend Taeyong’s in a band and they have a gig at the Neo bar, you know, the one in the center of the city…”

You find yourself humming in interest, nodding along to the new information. You don’t think you’ve heard about Taeyong or his band before, but you only imagine it could be fun. “Are you going?” you ask, eyes jumping from your roommate to your new acquaintance slash friend, anticipating his response.

“Yeah,” he nods, averting his gaze from you for a moment, looking to his feet for a second as he clears his throat, “you should come too,” he adds when his eyes meet yours again, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Halting a little in your movement, you look at your roommate again. See, Yizhuo is just the perfect girl you’d invite to see your friend’s band. She’s outgoing, loud, the life of the party, and also has an amazing alcohol tolerance– perfect to match the boy in front of you. There’s no reason for Na Jaemin to be inviting you as well, and you presume it’s the way his personality naturally is– considerate and warm– that it doesn’t let him just leave you out of the conversation and let you stay home. He’d probably feel too bad if he didn’t invite you, that’s all.

But the more you stare at the two, noticing the familiar way Jaemin’s body leans into your roommate’s for support, the two of them growing quite close in the process of working on the project– she even trailed into his apartment a few times to work there instead, because you had exams to study for and she wanted to leave the apartment silent for you to focus better– and the more you feel the familiar feeling deep within your chest, bugging you with thoughts resonating through your brain that tell you that you’ll just be a burden if you go and that the two of them will have much more fun together if they’re alone anyways, since Jaemin is clearly interested in your roommate. The voice in your head doesn’t leave, and you get so caught up in listening to it that you zone out, only to be woken up from your state of autopilot with a soft nudge to your shin under the table.

“So? What do you say?” he asks again, raising his eyebrows at you in question, eyes wide with anticipation.

“Oh,” you let out, hesitant as you poke your fork into the slice of meat on your plate, “I’m good, thanks. I wouldn’t wanna… you know… intrude? Or something?” you say, nodding to yourself as you’re afraid to meet his eye, opting to stare into your meal instead.

“What are you talking about? Of course you won’t intrude, I’m the one who invited you,” he mutters under his nose, tone of voice close to a mother’s scolding, insistent on his words. “Come on, it will be fun!”

“Really, I-” you open your mouth to decline again, when the male sulks in his seat and turns to your roommate for help.

“Yizhuo, help me, would you?” he grunts. “Tell your roommate this is the best idea you’ve ever heard, maybe she’ll listen to you, since she clearly doesn’t trust me.”

Snickering at his offended pout, you roll your eyes in mock annoyance when your best friend finally speaks up for the first time since you sat at the table, now finished with her lunch and free to talk to you both. “I think it would be nice, Y/N,” she says casually, nodding, “besides, I bet the band guys will be hot. Maybe Jaem can hook us up with one of them, what do you say?” she says, looking at him with a teasing glint in her eye, dismissed by the male with a scoff and a wave of his hand.

“You wouldn’t want that,” he mumbles, “not saying they’re not hot, but they’re insufferable. And a little bit stupid.”

“You say that about your friends?” you grin, seeing as the male shrugs to himself.

“Yeah,” he agrees, “hanging out with them makes me feel better about myself.”

Giggling at the remark, you finish your food and stare at him with dumbfoundance in your eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Na Jaemin.”

“Mhm, whatever,” he hums, grinning, before he looks at the screen of his phone and his face scrunches up in horror. His figure stands up in hurry, slinging his backpack over his shoulder before he looks at the both of you, eyes drifting from your roommate to you in a sharp 0.2 second interval, pointing a finger at your sitting body. “I take it as I’ll see you there. I have a class in literally 5-” he says as he looks at his phone again, “no, 4 minutes, so I better get going. I’ll text the address to Yizhuo in case you two can’t find it, and don’t even think of not showing up, okay?”

Sighing in fake annoyance, you shake your head in disbelief as the man strides off, black hair flowing in the breeze as his figure jogs out of the crowded cafeteria.

You’re starting to think that Na Jaemin is actually the insufferable one. But as he made it clear that he might get mad at you if you don’t go, even though it might make the annoying voice in your head only scream at you louder if you see him and your roommate sway in the cigarette smoke, dancing together in the local bar, you take a mental note to check your journal and see if you have any plans on Friday, and if you do, to quickly cancel them.

The mental image you had of the concert in your head was mostly right. When you arrive at the local bar at 9 in the evening, the whole place is filled with cigarette smoke and the loud noise of guitars is making your ears ring a little when you try to listen to the lyrics. It’s not really your cup of tea, but the lead singer looks nice– you heard some girls in the front screaming his name; Yuta, if you weren’t wrong– and you find yourself dancing along to the beat of songs you’ve never even heard before.

Everything’s just like you imagined– smiley, flushed faces in the crowd, sweaty bodies pressed against each other in the small space that the bar provides, everything just perfect to scare a person with claustrophobic tendencies. Everything except from the small voice in your head telling you that you’ll be the third wheel tonight was right, and you find yourself thanking whatever inner motives that lead you to agree with Na Jaemin’s invitation, because when the small break the band had ends and you down the beer he bought for you and Yizhuo, the male is, to your surprise, tugging you to the dance floor. This is not really second female lead of you, you think as you sway under the neon lights of the bar; and you can’t say you hate it.

“Please tell your roommate to not get on with the boy she’s currently dancing with when you two get home,” Jaemin mutters into your ear through the music, and suddenly, the illusion’s over. Of course his eyes would be on your breathtaking, wonderful roommate– there was no way you’d have his full attention while he dances with you, no matter how much effort you put into your appearance tonight. You don’t know what it is that makes you finally admit to yourself that you’re endlessly yearning for male attention and validation– especially Na Jaemin’s, the casual heartthrob’s– but you’re willing to say it’s the effect of alcohol as you furrow your brows at him and lean closer to his face to hear him better as you two talk over the loud set.

“Why?”

“He’s insanely stupid,” he says, snickering, “and I also think he’d love to move into your apartment the first chance he gets. I’m pretty sure his roommate kicked him out last month because he wasn’t paying rent.”

“Well, aren’t you at our apartment all the time as well?” you squint at him, seeing as the male rolls his eyes at you in mock annoyance, the teasing getting to him.

“That’s because I have to,” he insists, grinning under the blue light shading his features, the hue making him look like he was cut out of a teenage movie.

Shaking your head in disbelief at the gossip, you find yourself yelling over the music again. “How do you even know all of that?” you ask, desperate to know the source of all information there is about the men on your campus.

“His roommate told me himself,” Jaemin says, “I used to play soccer with him in high school.”

“You have too many contacts,” you mutter, seeing as the male shrugs at you, taking your hand in his as he twirls you in your place, the music blending into a slower rhythm, the melody more solemn and relaxed.

“What can I say,” he grins, “I’m irresistible. Everyone wants to be my friend.”

Not even having a chance to reply a snarky comment back to him, the male suddenly brings you closer to him, taking all air out of your lungs. His strong arms are now pressed around your middle, causing you to almost automatically sneak your arms around his neck– you truly don’t know what brought you to these actions, you think it’s you working on auto-pilot after doing competitive dancing for 5 years when you were little that makes you get into position almost immediately in fear of your instructor screaming at you– and the neon lights now start slowly flashing through various colors, reminding you of disco balls you have at middle school formals. The lead singer sings a romantic song, his raspy, yet unique voice cutting through the speakers right into your poor, fragile heart, and Jaemin steps with you into a loose dance, just two bodies swinging to the music, catching their breath after jumping around to the rhythmic beats for so long.

In a moment full of embarrassing self-indulgence, you look at the boy with long eyelashes staring down at you, and you wonder if he finds joy in your company. He is that type of guy you’d naturally gravitate towards– charming and nonchalant, extremely charismatic– but you, you are the exact opposite of those qualities. Socially awkward and embarrassing with your antics, thinking too much of words to say before you speak to someone, tense shoulders giving you in as you look nervous with every new person you meet. You’re not the type of person Na Jaemin would voluntarily want to hang out with– your roommate is the one he should be dancing with right now, swaying to the slow beat.

And maybe he would be, if that other guy wasn’t faster than him at earning her attention.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, leaning in closer to your ear, because even though the song is slower, it’s still as loud as the previous ones. Shivers run down your spine when his breath fans your heated skin, and you find yourself nodding in response.

“It’s fun,” you mumble, seeing him grin.

“See? Told you,” he sighs, “and you didn’t want to go!”

“I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, that’s all,” you say, smiling at his warm eyes. The thing about Na Jaemin is that he looks at everyone with eyes reminding you of pools of warm honey– with such a welcoming gaze it makes your knees buckle from the sweetness. He looks at everyone with such care it makes them think they perhaps mean the whole entire world to him, and that’s why you can’t bring yourself to think something more of the situation when his eyes meet yours and your eye contact is a battle of symphony. Because he looks at everyone like that. He looks at Yizhuo like that, that’s for sure.

The man gently leads you into another turn, an amused giggle escaping his lips when you clumsily get back to his arms. You open your mouth to talk back to him, but before you manage to find words worthy of a good jab, the tempo of the song gets faster again and the drums once again ring loudly in your ears, the last tune of the set bringing an enthusiastic, energetic atmosphere into the small bar.

The rest of the evening comes by like a blur– you remember Jaemin ordering you a few more beers and introducing you to the band, the lead singer flashing you a grin you can’t quite decipher in your drunken haze. Your roommate hangs from the shoulder of the man Na Jaemin warned you about, and you find yourself despising the male even though you’ve never spoken to him– something inside of you trusts Jaemin’s judgment of men, it seems (he is one of them, after all. He knows what he’s talking about).

You almost get mad at yourself for letting yourself drink too much again. It’s like once you start, you don’t know when to stop, and after all, who are you to say no when you’re not even the one paying for all the shots of alcohol? That wouldn’t be very smart of you, as a broke college student. You have to take everything that’s free, no matter how harmful to your health it might be.

Well, except from drugs. You wouldn’t take free crack cocaine even if you were offered.

But when you drink, you find Jaemin’s attention more on you– his caring eyes watching your steps when you walk, making sure you don’t trip over your feet and fall. His arms put his jacket around your shoulders when you stand outside of the club with the band, the raven haired lead singer offering you a cigarette your companion denies for you before you even have a chance to open your mouth, and his smiley face beams at you when he holds your face in his palms and asks you if you want to go home. And you can’t lie, you’re enjoying all the attention– even though it might be coming solely from the fact that he has to look after you like you’re a baby, because you pretty much turn into one when you’ve had something to drink, but still, you can’t find it in yourself to compose yourself and tune down the drinks.

You’ll worry about the guilt when you wake up in the morning. Now is not the time.

You nod to his question, though, because you must admit that you’re getting a little sleepy in your night adventures. Following him like a lost puppy, you watch him as he gathers your roommate from the bar, the three of you now walking down the street towards your block, Jaemin taking the side of the sidewalk that’s closer to the road, his careful eyes watching over your every step making you even more surprised by the fact that he doesn’t have an older sister in his family that would shape him into such a gentleman.

“Everyone, did you have fun tonight?” he asks like a kindergarten teacher somewhere towards the end of the seemingly never ending walk home.

“Yes!” you chant along with Yizhuo, giggles erupting along the neighborhood.

“And what did we learn tonight?” he asks again, making your roommate frown at the question.

“That soccer guys suck!”

“That I can’t handle my alcohol!”

You both chime at the same time, making your companion nod, satisfied by both of your answers. Something about his sweet, scolding, yet patient tone makes your cheeks hurt from smiling when you two open up the front door to your apartment, your brain focused on listening to his small pep talk. “I hope you two take this as a learning experience and never make the same mistakes again! Alcohol is bad for your liver and broke soccer guys are bad for your wallet, but don’t you worry, I’m always here to remind you of such things when you forget.”

“Yes, Mr Na– oh no the lift’s broken again!” Yizhuo whines when she walks up to the elevator, scowling at the button that doesn’t light up when she presses it, the platform stuck somewhere between the second and the third floor. Normally, you wouldn’t mind such inconvenience– you don’t go to the gym often and every time you carry your groceries upstairs, you think of it as a little workout, trying to train your brain into thinking how good your ass would look only if you took the stairs every day, but failing as you go for the lift every time it works– but tonight, drunk, dizzy and a little tired, you’re glad you don’t break into loud cries at the newly found information.

“No!” you yell out, almost falling to your knees when your roommate presses a hand over your mouth to keep you quiet– although tipsy, Yizhuo still shows much care about your neighbors, it seems. Crouching in front of the unresponding device, you shake your head in disapproval at the whole situation, suddenly feeling like the whole world is against you just because you’re drunk and have to walk up to the seventh floor.

“Come on, ladies,” Jaemin says, patiently waiting at the first step of many.

“Oh, I’m not going,” you shake your head, a pout sitting on your lips as you rest your head on the wall, “I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“Y/N, stop being ridiculous,” the man sighs, walking closer to you, but seeing as you don’t budge, he only crouches down to your level and pokes your cheek with his pointer finger, seemingly regretting inviting you to the bar tonight, “want to get on my back, then? I’ll carry you upstairs,” he asks, gentle parenting you in the process of getting you home.

And see, if you were sober and completely in tune with your emotions and thought process, you’d say no and just walk up the stairs by yourself. But that’s not your situation right now, when you’re drunk and kind of falling for your roommate’s project partner, and so you only nod at him with bright eyes and securely jump to his back, nuzzling your face into the crook of his shoulder as he walks up the stairs to the sixth floor with both of you, patient with your drunken stubbornness.

“See, girls, sometimes things don’t go as you plan. But in those situations, you have to make a new solution and try to come up with something that is going to work. Life’s a bitch and there will be many things in your way, but you always gotta find a way around your obstacles,” he mumbles somewhere between the third and the fourth floor, “the bus is late? You run to the class. You get a stain on your shirt? You tell everyone it’s supposed to be there and that it’s a fashion statement. Your friend doesn’t wanna go out with you? You bribe her with sexy band guys.”

“And sometimes,” he says again, his tone of voice slowly lulling you to sleep, “the route you have to take might be harder than the one that failed. But that’s okay, because the end goal will be worth the trouble. The lift broke? Take the stairs, because at the end, there is a warm bed waiting for you in your apartment.”

You’re not sure where all of this wisdom is coming from, or how the hell his words are still coherent after so much physical exercise and also the amount of beers he had with his friends at the bar. You’re also not sure why he’s waffling so much– you bet it’s to pass time until he walks up to the seventh floor with your body on his back,

but you bet there’s a life lesson hidden somewhere in there.

The ringing of a doorbell is an unusual sound to your ears. You never have anyone use it, because frankly, you don’t even have that many friends in the first place, and the ones that do exist and come to hang out with you in your apartment always text you that they’re in front of the door instead, like everyone in the 21st century does nowadays. You don’t recognise this as the more practical method, but it’s the one that they all use, so you’ve gotten used to the fact over the time. The only people that use the doorbell are your landlord– because he loves to come check up on your apartment from time to time and then passively aggressively mention how there's a mess in your living room– and then Yizhuo’s friend Mark Lee that she met at the bistro she works at. They started hanging out and he’s the only one that actually picks her up at the door– as opposed to all of her other guy friends and dates that wait for her in the car. You think it’s sweet; the boy always wears a shy blush on his cheeks and nervously scratches his neck when you open the front door instead of your roommate and scream at Yizhuo that her date is here– to which she tells you that they’re not dating every single time, but you actually think you’re rooting for the adorable canadian, because after the men she chose to date before, you think she’s finally getting some sense into her head.

And so when the doorbell rings again, you get mentally prepared for either of those two outcomes. You don’t think it’s gonna be Mark Lee, because he always texts Yizhuo before hanging out with her and your temperamental roommate isn’t home yet– so the only reasonable option is your landlord Jinyoung, which makes shivers run down your spine as you pick up the mess scattered all around the floor in the entry hall and throw the stuff into the big closet at the right side of the wall, making sure it’s out of his sight.

Taking a deep breath in to collect yourself before the terror starts, you open the front door and put on your best fake smile, ready to face the wrinkled face of a middle aged man in a weird tracksuit– but to your surprise, there is one more person that can still use the ringbell on the door, and it’s none other than Na Jaemin.

“Hi!” he smiles, a wide grin sitting at his face. He’s once again in his usual attire that consists of Adidas sweatpants and a mint green hoodie, the clothing acting like his default skin in the game of life, and you can’t help but let out a satisfied sigh at the fact that it’s not your landlord that you have to talk to today; although speaking to Na Jaemin after the last time you met him isn’t much easier than sparking up a conversation about the state of your rented place.

“Hello,” you drag out, humming to yourself as you press your lips into a thin line, “Yizhuo’s not here yet,” you say, trying your hardest to not meet his warm eyes.

“Oh, I know! She texted me she’ll be late, but I was already on my way, so I figured I’ll just wait for her here,” he explains, naturally walking into your apartment as if he owned the place. And you don’t stop him– because frankly enough, you don’t have it in you to do anything else. And what would you even do? Let him stand outside?

And so, even though you weren’t prepared for a visitor today– because Yizhuo still hasn’t learned how to tell you that she’ll have people over– you walk along with him to the living room and see him invite himself to sit on the couch, body sprawled out all across the soft cushions. He seems like he lives here and not you– with how awkwardly you situate yourself on the other side of the sofa (he took your side– the one you picked the first day you moved in. Neither you nor Yizhuo ever sat on the other side ever since, it was an unwritten rule) and watch as he turns on the TV and scrolls through the channels. If this was anyone else, you’d find it inappropriate, rude even, but come on… it’s Na Jaemin we’re talking about. If he walks inside of your apartment and acts like he owns the place, who are you to tell him he doesn’t?

“You must really enjoy working on the project, if you’re around so often,” you mumble out, burdened by the fact that the silence between the two of you is slowly suffocating you out of the awkwardness of it all. One would say you wouldn’t know what awkwardness and shame is after embarrassing yourself in front of the man so much, but it’s quite the opposite, actually– as if the weight of it all was just packing on to each other, creating a big, heavy mess sitting on your shoulders, not letting you breathe.

“Oh, not really,” he says, turning his whole body and attention to you, eyes perking up at the sound of your voice, “I actually find it quite boring, if I’m being honest.”

Humming in response, you suddenly start to find the whole thing a little weird. Because if Jaemin doesn’t enjoy the project– and Yizhuo absolutely despises it too, or at least she told you she did– who in them has that much enthusiasm to meet up after school so often to work on it? If you were in their place, you’d just do it all in the span of a week. Projects you don’t like get lost somewhere in the back of your brain and you only remember them a few days before the due date, quickly scattering something and putting it on paper just so you don’t fail. Jaemin and Yizhuo, however, have worked on the project multiple times a week for the last two months, which is contradicting to the nature of your roommate in particular, because you know just how much she enjoys the art of procrastination as well.

“You must be really responsible, then,” you say, thinking this is the only possible solution– Na Jaemin doesn’t like the project, but he also doesn’t want to get a bad grade in it. That’s why he’s over at your flat multiple times a month, giggling with your roommate in the living room and working on the Neurophysiology essay that requires thorough research. That’s it– it must be.

“Well, I dunno about that,” Jaemin snickers, “this is my second time taking the class, actually. I failed it last year,” he grins, leaving you to stare at him with an opened mouth out of shock, the thoughts in your brain sprinting around like an itch you can’t really get to, making you shake your head in disbelief. This doesn’t sound like the words of someone who strives to get good grades in a subject– because if you had to retake a class, you’d be glad to just pass. Getting a good grade and putting in a lot of effort would be the last of your interests, especially after failing once– you’d have so much resentment for the subject you’d actually do the bare minimum, just to spite no one in particular but yourself.

You hum at that, at a loss for words.

“Do you not like having me around?” Jaemin asks, suddenly, catching you off guard. Looking up at him, sharply turning your head, your wide eyes must have betrayed you, since your companion lets out an amused laugh.

“That’s not it,” you try to save your skin, sighing, “I’m just wondering, that’s all.”

“So you don’t like having me around.”

“That’s not what I said!” you mourn out, suddenly scared of somehow offending the boy sitting in your living room. Being completely alone with him has been an emotional tsunami so far, having you praying and manifesting for your roommate to come back soon so you don’t have to deal with the pressure anymore. One moment, he has you all curious and guessing, the other one, he has you aimlessly trying to maintain an image you already lost the first second he saw you only dressed in a thin shirt with your wet hair staining the fabric, walking out the shower the first day he met you.

“Okay, so you’re saying you do like having me around?” he grins, the teasing glint in his smile driving you crazy, the weird turmoil on your insides almost making you stand up from your place on the sofa and running up against the wall. You bet that would bring you less pain and discomfort than having a conversation with him.

“Na Jaemin, you make me want to kill myself,” you mourn, draging your hands across your face in despair. Who would’ve thought that speaking to him all alone in your apartment could’ve been so much trouble? This is not at all how it went the night of the concert, but you’re willing to say that it was the effect of alcohol that made you get through the night. You can’t drink right now, in broad daylight, though– because that would legally make you an alcoholic.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I wouldn’t be hanging around at your apartment so much if I didn’t like being around a certain someone that lives here either,” he says, matter-of-factly, as if the information didn’t just take all breath out of your lungs at the suggestion of something you pray your brain isn’t just misinterpreting in this very moment. Opening your mouth and closing it in a second, looking like a fish that’s been thrown out of the ocean and flapping around in the sand, you gape at the boy and furrow your brows, creating an ugly crease on your forehead that Yizhuo screamed at you about (she told you to stop making that face so often, because ‘it’s gonna ruin your skin and you’re gonna look old’. Like you can help it…).

“What do you even mean by tha–” you start, desperate for more explanation, when the door opens with a loud bang and your dear roommate finally marches up to the apartment with bangs sticking to her oily forehead and a frustrated frown on her face– choosing just the right moment to finally arrive, as if you haven’t been praying for this very moment for the last few minutes.

“I’m never going back to that fucking bistro ever again. Can you believe it? Lee Jeno decided to take a day off and tell everyone twenty minutes before the end of my shift, so I had to work for two more hours before somebody could come to cover him. Who even does that? Is everything okay in his brain?” she screams, throwing her bag to the floor as she walks up into the living room, finding you two there. “Why am I even asking? Fuck, of course he’s not mentally okay. And then a rush hour began and I had to serve the rudest customer I’ve ever encountered, and don’t even let me started on that fucking grandpa that complained about the fries being cold when I just got them out of the frier!”

Watching her little tantrum, you can’t help but giggle at your roommate. It’s an usual sight to you ever since she started working at the bistro, but Jaemin seems to be surprised at her temperamental outburst as he laughs at her like a maniac, watching her with mouth wide open and eyes twice their usual size, almost bursting out of their sockets.

“Don’t even try to start something today, Na Jaemin, or I’ll literally take a kitchen knife and slice your throat in half. Let’s get to this shit so I can shower,” Yizhuo says as she falls to the sofa with a loud thud, not even greeting neither of you before she kicks her hoodie off her body with an annoyed squeak.

You take this as your cue to leave– because if there is anyone else in the apartment that could be the person she can take it out on, you’re not willingly going to sit there and take her attention from them, sparing yourself for tonight.

Jaemin’s words resonate in your brain as you stumble into your room. There’s a certain someone he enjoys being around in this apartment, and when you look over your shoulder and see him with Yizhuo’s sweaty hoodie hanging off his head– you don’t dare to ask how it got there or why it was there in the first place, hearing his hearty laugh– you feel a ping close to your heart.

You don’t think you need an answer to the question anymore. How foolish of you to think it could be you.

When you went to college, you didn’t think you’d become the epitome of an average college student you see in movies and read about in Choi Minho fanfiction. Somewhere along the way, while keeping your assignments to the last possible day, living with a roommate that both gets on your nerves and makes you think you wouldn’t be able to survive without her by your side and going to more parties in a single semester than your whole entire life, you find yourself fitting all the criteria as you hang around your bedroom and get ready for what seems to be the biggest party you’ve ever set your foot in.

Your roommate is long gone now, and while you’d be frustrated by the fact that you were supposed to get to the party on your own, you don’t find yourself filled with rage when you remind yourself of the fact that this party is hosted by her cousin, Zhong Chenle, who took it upon himself to host the biggest birthday party of the century for his childhood best friend Park Jisung. Yizhuo was dragged to the big mansion to help with all the preparations, and while you sat around in class the whole morning, she spent the time with spamming you pictures of the place, coming from half-decorated to a fully, over-the-top, red solo cup crammed and loud music bearing building. The party starts at 8 and you’re set to leave in a bit, but there’s one issue that’s keeping you from hopping into the uber you’ve called for yourself– your dear roommate still hasn’t texted you the address, and with how fast the time is going and how she hasn’t replied to any of your messages since 6:25, you don’t think you’re getting a response any time soon.

And speaking honestly, you’ve made a list of rules for yourself. And you also set yourself to making sure you don’t break any of them.

Rule number one was to not get home later than 2 in the morning. Every time you do, you hate yourself for it the next morning. Rule number two closely ties with the first one, stating that you’re not allowed to get hammered. With the amount of partying you’ve been getting yourself into, you think it’s better to save your liver before it’s too late. And rule number three– however embarrassing it must sound– is that you’re not allowed to embarrass yourself in front of Na Jaemin again. Not after he had to see you half naked, collect your broken body from the ground and carry you upstairs on his back.

With how your evening’s going and you’re not not getting replies from the main organizator of the party herself, you don’t think you need the rule list at all, since it seems that you won’t even get to the party itself in the first place.

After many minutes of aimlessly scrolling through social media, dressed in the outfit you picked out yesterday, you are brought out of your dissociative episode with a ring on the doorbell. Cursing under your breath at the unwanted visitor, you open the door without much thought, the adrenaline in your veins caused by the fact that you might miss the party of the century making you not contemplate on the motion too much before you’re standing in front of Na Jaemin, unprepared and shocked to your core.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you ask, the words rolling off your tongue without much thought.

“Good to see you too!” he chants, words dipped in irony, furrowing his brows in confusion before smiling in hesitance. “Yizhuo sent me to get you to the party.”

Blinking at him a few times, the situation downing on you, a shake of your head is performed to clear your mind. “She did what?”

“Yeah, it got a bit hectic over there and she didn’t have time to text you the address, so she told me to just come pick you up. Don’t worry, I haven’t drunk yet,” he says, the explanation making you huff out at the irresponsible nature of your roommate– because truly, how much time can a simple text take– before you put on your shoes and take the bag prepared on the ground close to the door, following the man out of the building and into his car.

Sliding into the silver Toyota Auris, only a few minutes pass before you’re strangled with the reality of being alone with Na Jaemin again, and even though this is not the first time, it still gives you just the slightest kick of adrenaline. Keeping up with conversation is harder for you than you would’ve imagined, and suddenly you’re regretting the fact that you don’t have at least a tiny bit of alcohol in you to kick some courage into your skull, but as the low melody of the radio hits your ears and your driver starts to singing along with the lyrics, using a silly voice that makes you crack up, you realize that maybe, after embarrassing yourself in front of him so much, you don’t even have to feel tense anymore. Because realistically, it can’t get much worse than this.

“You look really nice, by the way,” Jaemin smiles, making your heart run miles around your ribcage. Admittedly, you did spend a few hours picking out the perfect outfit in hopes of being recognized by someone– maybe even Jaemin himself, okay, you’ll admit that as well– but the accomplishment of actually hearing him compliment you still surprises you with great measures.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat, “you- you do too.”

“Oh, thank god,” he mumbles, sighing dramatically, “I actually had to buy some new clothes, because Jeno said I can’t attend this super fancy party in a tracksuit, but you know how it goes, shit’s expensive nowadays, and this was the only thing on sale, so I grabbed it,” he explains, going on a tangent, this mannerism of his making you break into a smile, “and I can’t lie, I think I kinda rock the style and I was hoping for a compliment of two from the ladies tonight, so I’m glad to hear this from yours truly first.”

Chuckling at his rambling, you shake your head in disbelief. “I think you’d look good in anything, Na Jaemin,” you tsk, “you have that kind of face that everyone likes.”

“Oh really?” he asks, the tone of his voice teasing. “So that means you like my face?”

“I’m not everyone, you know,” you bite back despite feeling heat rising to your cheeks, wanting to take back all the words that have come out of your mouth in the span of the last few seconds.

“Now that’s hurting my feelings.”

“You care about my opinion that much?”

“Of course,” he grunts, looking at you for a split second before he parks the car in front of a big house, already popping with people to its seams, loud music overbearing the beat of the music playing in the car. The ride wasn’t even that long– you live 15 minutes away from the wealthy neighborhood, it seems– but it's still good that you got a ride, because you don’t know how long you’re gonna last in those heels you’re wearing. “I can’t trust Yizhuo when it comes to these things. I’m convinced she hates me a little.”

“Why would she hate you?” you ask, amused.

“She always looks annoyed whenever I open my mouth,” he snickers.

“She’s like that with everyone,” you mutter, even though you remember your roommate complaining about the amount of words that Jaemin can spit in a minute just about yesterday, “it’s just her resting bitch face.”

The engine turns off and you turn around in the passenger seat to gather your bag from the back seat, where you carelessly threw it in the rush of getting to the party as soon as possible. Quickly looking through its contains– because your anxiety tells you to, just in case you somehow magically decided to leave your wallet and your keys back home, despite checking and making sure they’re there at least 8 times already– you turn back towards the front, ready to get out of the vehicle when you’re met with the sight of Na Jaemin opening the door for you like a gentleman, waiting for you to walk down the imaginary red carpet, completely ignoring the nature of the party going on just a few meters away from you.

Bashfully escaping his car and thanking him on your way, you watch him lock the car and catch up with you on the sidewalk, leading the both of you to the expensive-looking building.

The song accompanying your arrival is now Boom, Boom, Boom, Boom!! by Vengaboys, and although you can’t deny the lyrics may be a little bit relatable to your current state right now, you can’t say the whole scene doesn’t look like a circus in your eyes. It’s Park Jisung’s birthday party, though, so you can’t say it doesn’t have to be a bit comedic, at least– the boy is quite known around these parts of the town. The whole place is filled with people you hardly know, and with the amount of teenagers and college students roaming around, you’re reminded a little of the fair– the only thing missing is a bouncy castle, in which you could clearly imagine Zhong Chenle with his best friend, hollering like the kids they still are, no matter how hard they’re trying to deny it.

Upon walking through the front door, you are met with the realization that Na Jaemin was abducted by a tall man with a puppy-like smile and another one, a little shorter one with brown, longer hair and a leather jacket adorning his figure. His face is screaming in despair, and although you find the expression funny, you let him be with his roommate and who seems to be his friend (you swear you saw the other guy in Yangyang’s basement, rolling a blunt with the boy somewhere in the middle of the night), deciding on finding your dear roommate so you can scream at her for being so irresponsible with your arrival to the party of the century. It takes you no longer than 15 minutes before you’re met with her strawberry blonde locks tied up in her signature bun, low-waisted jeans and a white crop-top adorning her figure that’s currently turned to you with her back, and before you can stop yourself, you approach her from behind, intending to scare her out of spite and also humor.

Shaking her by her shoulders, the girl turns to you with a sudden yelp before she bursts into laughter at seeing your face. “I thought you were that fucker Johnny! I almost threw this drink into your face, you know?”

“Oh, you’d regret that very soon if you did that,” you threaten, pointing a warning finger towards her face.

“Trust me, I know,” she giggles, shaking her head, “anyways, you got here!”

“Yeah, Jaemin picked me up,” you say, showing her a tight-lipped smile.

“He… he did?” the girl asks, furrowing her eyebrows at you, confusion very clearly written on her face.

“You told him to…?”

“No, I didn’t,” she shakes her head, snickering to herself. “I just told him to text you the address, because I was busy pouring all the drinks in the kitchen and making the speakers in the living room work…” she explains, the more words come out of her mouth, the more she breaks into a sly grin, the expression making you sigh in terror, knowing the amount of teasing that will come next.

“Why are you grinning like that? Stop it.”

“Na Jaemin likes youuuu,” she sing-songs, pointing a finger towards your forehead and digging into your skin with the sharp edge of her stiletto nail. Wincing away from her touch, you shake your head at her with a huff of frustration, wondering if she’s had enough to drink for it to cause all of this.

“He doesn’t, and we both know it.”

“Yeah, that’s why he picked you up,” she nods, before she takes a deep breath in, preparing herself for the long sentence that’s about to come out of her mouth, “and that’s why he insists on hanging out strictly over at our apartment, why he carried you up the stairs on his motherfucking back, why he bribed me just to get you to go to the concert with him, and why he won’t shut up about you literally every second the two of us are alone–”

“You know the same thing could suggest that he likes you?” you huff, roaming your hand through your hair in an attempt to soothe the weird bundle of nerves growing in your stomach. “He hangs out with you all the time, not me, you know…”

“That’s ‘cause you keep hiding in your room like a raccoon, you know.”

“That’s not true at all–”

“Okay, whatever you say. He’s coming towards us right now– so don’t look around or you’ll be too obvious– and I bet 100 pounds that he’s gonna drag you away from me and suggest you two play beer pong again, or whatever.”

“Yizhuo, I need you to shut the fuck–”

But before you’re able to finish your sentence, you feel a hand land on your shoulder, your whole figure spinning towards the source of the contact, finding a grinning Na Jaemin in your rear point of view– how unexpected, really– his body seemingly full of adrenaline as he jumps in his place, looking like a squirrel high on caffeine, his next sentence making your brain short-circuit as you hear Yizhuo snicker in your right ear, a bump on your shoulder and a shove into the male’s figure encouraging you in your movements out the room.

“Normally, I’d drag you to play beer pong with me again, but if I come back to the events that occurred the last time you got drunk, I have a suggestion that’s more considerate to your liver– wanna sing karaoke with me? You’re not allowed to say no, by the way,” and before you’re able to register what’s going on in this very moment, the conversation you two had with Yizhuo keeps repeating over and over in your brain the whole time you’re by Jaemin’s side.

Curse Ning Yizhuo for making you think he could like you at least a little– because even though he sang a corny love song with you at the karaoke machine and introduced you to his friends, along with taking you off your feet in an enthusiastic hug when you two won against his roommate and his best friend at a make-shift karaoke battle (you two got a 98 point score, just saying…), there’s a simple man called insecurity sitting soundly in the corner of your brain not letting you contemplate the fact and take it seriously, no matter how hard you try.

jaem [10:21]: hi how are you feeling!!! jaem [10:21]: was wondering if u wanted to get lunch :p jaem [10:21]:not that im assuming u have a hangover bc u hardly drank yesterday but yknow would be nice idk jaem [10:22]: theres this new pancake place in town :OO

“You don’t look as bad as I expected!” Jaemin greets you as you two walk inside of the new bistro that opened not a long time ago– you only knew about it because Yizhuo hoped and prayed that the fact that there’s a new place in town will mean that less customers were going to show up at the one she’s working at, and you can’t say you don’t hate that logic. After hearing her stories about rude customers, you believe your roommate deserves a break. Working with people is hard– and as she said, you only realize just how stupid some of them can be when you truly start working in customer service.

“Ouch!” you utter out, your ego suddenly falling at the backhanded compliment.

“Not that you look bad, like, ever, I just– you usually look way worse after a party, you know,” he explains while opening the door for you and leading you towards one of the booths, the red sofas making the whole place look like a retro motorest you’d find somewhere on your way through the middle of nowhere. The polka dot walls only beg you to order a milkshake with your pancakes, and you do exactly that, feeling unapologetic in your actions. It’s not your fault– and you guess that you deserve to treat yourself to a nice chocolate swirl once in a while.

“I didn’t drink as much last night, you know,” you snicker, remembering the fact that you actually pretty much managed to stick to your rules the whole time you were enjoying yourself at Park Jisung’s birthday party.

“Should’ve dragged you to one more game of beer pong, then.”

“So you do want me to suffer, huh?” you roll your eyes at him, resting your back at the flashy red booth to get a better look at his shifting expressions.

“It’s fun to see you embarrassed when you recollect your memory, that’s all,” he admits, kicking your leg under the table in a teasing manner.

Snickering at his comment, you hide your face in your hands at the growing embarrassment. Taking a deep breath in to hide your hesitance, you look outside your window for a short moment before you turn back to him, continuing on with the conversation before the moment gets too awkward for you to bear. “Yizhuo’s still asleep, by the way. She drank too much because Chenle got a bet with her and she was sure she could outdrink him and then the Mark guy had to carry her limp body to our house last night,” you explain, “she’s the one with a massive hangover right now, that’s why she’s not joining.”

“I see you two like princess treatment,” Jaemin teases, referring to the time he had to collect you and bring you home on his back, “besides, I invited you, not her. If she was here, she wouldn’t stop complaining about her headache, and I really don’t need that energy in my life right now.”

Laughing, you move your hands away from the table as a server brings you two your plates, filled to the brim with pancakes smothered in syrup and chocolate topping. A shiny cherry is adorning the serving, and you can already feel yourself salivating at the sight, the sweet smell filling your senses as you dig in, feeling hypnotized by the food in front of you. You are a sweets lover, and while you don’t know how Jaemin managed to do that, he hit the right spot with making you join him for a sweet lunch– making you adore the man even more, if that was even possible.

“Does it taste good?” Jaemin asks, watching as you nod to him with your mouth filled– as if the sight wasn’t enough of a confirmation to him– a hum of satisfaction slipping out of your vocal cords.

“It’s so good,” you mumble when you swallow, wiping your mouth with the napkin you found at the corner of the table. “Just what I needed right now.”

Jaemin finally digs into his own plate, a bright smile sitting at his face, and as you eat, you find yourself glancing his way from time to time. After all this time, you’re finally starting to realize just how relaxed you’re truly feeling right in this moment, despite having oily hair that’s tugged out of your way with a headband and only wearing your casual clothes, being too lazy to change your sweatpants for jeans and your hoodie for a fancier top. Jaemin just has something about him that once kept you on your toes, nerves tingling all in your insides, the same thing now making you calm and appreciative of his presence. Who would’ve thought that it would only take you two hanging out together the whole time of Park Jisung’s birthday party to finally feel relaxed and natural around each other?

Watching him as he takes a sip of his milkshake, you get surprised at his disgusted face. “What’s up?”

“I forgot I hate strawberries,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck as he battles the face of discomfort spreading over his features.

“And you ordered a strawberry milkshake… because you hate strawberries?” you snicker, laughing at his face.

“Well, I ordered it for the aesthetic, I suppose, but the fact that it’s actually gonna taste like strawberries kind of… escaped my brain for a sec,” he explains, making you shake your head in disbelief at him, offering the boy your own milkshake that you have yet to take a sip of.

“Want mine? It’s a banana one. I don’t mind strawberries,” you say, smiling at him encouragingly when he hesitantly eyes the tall glass.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” you say, nudging the milkshake towards him, seeing as he exchanges the straws and sets the pink drink in front of you with a grin full of gratitude. The man takes a sip out of your drink, his eyes instantly growing wide at the taste, nodding his head and closing his eyes in pure bliss.

“Now, this is perfect.”

Giggling at his expression, you finish your plate and sit in a comfortable silence as the boy in front of you does the same. Seeing as he’s done with his serving as well, both of your stomachs full of the delicious meal, you watch him as he clears his throat before speaking up again. “So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?”

“You know, the usual,” you shrug, “check up on my roommate to see if she hasn’t died in her sleep, maybe try to wake her up in a way that doesn’t get me killed… Do the chores she was supposed to do because now she won’t stop complaining about her headache, and then watch the Spiderman movies, because I saw Tom Holland on my TikTok for you page the other day and suddenly got obsessed,” you explain, chuckling to yourself.

“No way!”

“What?”

“I wanted to watch those too!” Jaemin exclaims, expression full of surprise and excitement, his face lighting up something inside of you that makes you speak before you even get a chance to contemplate your decision.

“Let’s watch it together, then!”

His face falls into disappointment, pursing his lips as he shakes his head, full of disappointment. “I can’t today, I promised Jeno to drive him to his grandma’s in the afternoon.”

“That’s okay, let’s just watch it some other day. I’ll wait with it for you,” you say, finishing the last of your milkshake, seeing as the boy’s eyes light up at your suggestion.

“But what about your plans?”

“I can watch something else today,” you say, “maybe I’ll watch something with Yizhuo, so she forgets about her grumpy mood, you know.”

And with that, the plans are arranged. It all happens so quickly and spontaneously you can’t even let yourself process your actions, your brain only waking up when Jaemin pays for you at the counter despite your protests, deep voice full of teasing telling you that it’s okay and that it’s for all the snacks he’s eaten and will further eat while he’s over at your place.

“What do you mean it’s not on Netflix?” you hush, scrolling through the app popped up on the TV, clearly not showing any signs of the Spiderman movies. You could’ve sworn you’ve seen the movies on there when you were randomly scrolling through the service one day, not really interested in seeing them, but when it’s the time for you to actually watch the series, it’s nowhere to be seen, vanished from the face of the earth. It happens quite a lot with Netflix, actually– and while google may say the movie is available, when you open up the app yourself, it’s like you’re banned from seeing everything that’s there for the rest of the world to see.

“Well, we can just watch something else, then–”

“I am not watching anything else, Jaemin, we came here to watch Spiderman, so that’s what we’re doing,” you announce, rolling your eyes in annoyance. It’s not his fault– of course it isn’t– but the way he’s willing to give up on the movie so easily is making your blood boil. You’re no quitter when it comes to movies– either you get it on Netflix, or you do some digging (doesn’t matter if it takes you more time than the actual running time of the movie itself) and pirate it online. A few ads about hot singles in your area could never stop you when you’re about to watch something your soul has been searching for the last few weeks.

“We don’t have Disney plus, though,” the man squints, seemingly at the end with his solutions.

“We don’t need those paid streaming services,” you roll your eyes, shutting the TV off and getting your laptop from the bottom shelf of your coffee table, “let’s just find it online.”

Typing in your password and opening up the browser, a few searches of Spiderman online for free later, you’re able to find at least five sites with your desired movie in it. The only thing left for you to do is to check if it has subtitles– because when you watch a movie, all your listening comprehension abilities fly out of the window, no matter how fluent in the language you are– and see which one has the best quality. Settling on an ugly looking site with three ads covering the video window and another five around the corners, you smile to yourself, noticing as your companion only stares at you in awe. The look makes you feel like you just hacked the FBI site, and judging from his eyes, he’s admiring you as if you really did just show him the doings of Anonymous, but you only roll your eyes at him and snicker as you point towards your screen.

“Now we just click through 25 ads and pop-up windows and we’re there,” you nod, motioning towards the laptop, before a sound of the front door opening makes you jump up in surprise and halt in your movements.

Seeing as your roommate gets into the hall, seemingly out of breath and red in her face, carrying her tote bag scrunched up in the palm of her hand like a sack full of dog shit instead of the fashion statement it is, Yizhuo looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and a lost look on her face. “What’s Jaemin doing here?”

The boy next to you huffs in offense, opening his mouth and chiming in his defense. “And what are you doing here? Did the three meters from the elevator to the front door tire you this much?”

“I live here!” she exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “And the lift is broken again, so I had to take the stairs. I don’t think we had a hangout scheduled today?” she asks, pointing towards her project partner with a lost look, seemingly annoyed at herself just in case she forgot about the study session and made other plans instead.

“No,” Jaemin gets out, shaking his head, “we didn’t.”

“Oh,” Yizhuo says, eyes drifting from him back to you and then from you back to him, before realization settles onto her face as she nods. “Oh,” she repeats, more exaggerated now, “I see how it is. Inviting Na Jaemin over when I’m not around…”

Heat rising to your cheeks, you speak up for the first time, completely ready to shield yourself from her slandering words. “Yeah, speaking of that, weren’t you supposed to be on your date with Mark?”

The girl smiles at you in irony, noting the choice of words, before she runs into her room and comes out with a purse instead, dropping her things into the new bag. Before she’s out of the flat again, she pops a head back into the living room, waving at you with one last goodbye. “I just had to take a different bag, since this kept falling off my shoulder. I’ll see you guys in the evening, and please, out of all places, don’t shag at the kitchen counter, at least–”

“Your date is waiting.”

“At least I admit that it’s a date, sweetie, so in your place, I’d shut my mouth,” she recites, tone laced with bitterness, “okay, bye, kiss kiss!” she says before the sound of the door loudly shutting pierces through your ears, leaving the two of you in complete silence.

Clearing your throat, deciding to not go back to the things that have come out of your roommate's mouth, you shift your focus back onto the laptop, awkwardly scratching your neck before speaking up. “Now that’s out of the way…” you mumble, “can you please try to get the movie playing? There will be about 75 ads popping up, you just need to patiently close each and every one of them and not play the porn games, okay?”

“Why would I–”

“I’m gonna make some popcorn in the meantime, since I imagine it’s gonna take a while. Oh and also, you can’t pause the movie, because that makes the whole process repeat and we’ll have to close all of the ads again, so when it’s done, just call me and I’ll be quick,” you finish explaining before disappearing into the kitchen area.

Rummaging through the cupboards, you finally acquire the popcorn you’ve been searching for. Plopping it into the microwave and setting the timer to approximately 3 minutes, you go on a search for more snacks– sweet ones this time, since chasing down the saltiness with a chocolate bar is your favorite activity to do after eating popcorn– and getting out some bowls to put everything into, preparing the things onto the kitchen counter.

Too absorbed in the noise of the corn popping in the microwave, you don’t notice footsteps approaching you in the small room, the voice of Na Jaemin scaring you to death.

“I love these!” he exclaims, motioning to the M&M’s you just opened and poured into a bowl. His voice makes you turn back to him in surprise, adrenaline in your veins only heightening when your face almost meets his chest, his body so close to your figure you can almost feel the heat radiating off his figure. Gasping at the close proximity, you react automatically and try to take a step back from him, but your back only meets the counter that somehow does nothing to support your frame as you back up to it, making you lose your balance and almost crash into the hard surface.

Jaemin’s arms shoot up quickly to steady you, one hand landing on your hip and another one gently catching the back of your head into his palm so you don’t meet with the upper drawers of the kitchen counter in a painful thud, the soft gesture making pools of honey gather in your stomach at the action. “Careful,” he snickers at your taken-aback posture, your hands aimlessly clutching the edge of the countertop.

“Well, maybe if you didn’t appear out of nowhere, I wouldn’t almost smash my head open out of surprise,” you mumble, eyes shifting from his face towards his chest instead, the so well-known feeling of curiosity and nerves you thought was long gone whenever you are around Jaemin approaching you again in great measures, keeping you up on your toes.

He only shrugs at your expression, not really offering you any more words, a chuckle escaping past his lips almost driving you to insanity.

One of his arms– the one cradling the crown of your head– comes down around you and reaches into the sweets bowl, taking a few into his hold and dropping them onto his tongue. Chewing, with an overly-exaggerated hum of satisfaction, the man offers you the sweets and feeds you off his palm, the sugar melting on your tongue somehow reminding you of the man standing in front of you, the tension growing big in your stomach.

“You’re standing very close,” you mutter under your nose when you notice his and your thighs touching, hearing as he hums at your remark.

“Do you not like it?”

“I–” you stutter, cheeks only further heatening at the question, “that’s not what I said.”

“See,” he snickers, “I’m standing in perfect proximity, then.”

Eyes hesitantly jumping to his face, seeing him looking down at you with warm eyes and a teasing glint in his smile, your heartbeat quickens even more, slowly starting to match the rhythm of the corn popping in the microwave. His hand still on your hip, the contact of it with your clothed skin burning, you’re suddenly finding it really hard to keep your nerves down, swallowing harshly before you open your mouth to speak up or else you’re going to go crazy.

“Jaemin–”

“Can you admit that to yourself?” he cuts you off, suddenly, face curious and a little more hesitant than before. Looking at him with confusion in your eyes, he repeats the question. “That this is a date. Can you… can you admit that to yourself, Y/N?”

Blinking a few times at the strange inquiry, you stutter again, your thoughts running back and forth in your brain too fastly for you to catch up with them. “I– well, I–”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Jaemin snickers again. “I was told that you’re a bit oblivious, and that I should probably be more direct with my actions, because of… obvious reasons…” he chuckles, “so if you needed confirmation, I’d think of this as a date. And the lunch we had together before as well, if that wasn’t clear enough… I originally wanted to play it more subtly, but I realized that I should maybe change my ways for you to get me, so… if you don’t want this to be a date, just tell me. I just thought I should tell you.”

Gasping at his words, you shake your head in clear disapproval, suddenly too worried about him getting the wrong message. “It’s– I was hoping… this was a date? I– I mean–”

The man in front of you visibly relaxes, giggling at your reaction. His heartfelt laughter makes the mood lighter again– the knot in your stomach loosening a little only for a bit, before the man catches you off guard with another question, his face inching dangerously close to you.

“Do you do kisses on first dates, then?”

Breath shaking, eyes shifting from his deep eyes to the plush skin of his lips, you mumble out a reply. “I mean… by what you just said, this is not really a first date, so…”

“Does that mean I can kiss you?”

Gaping into his face, you nod– barely visible, but it’s there and it’s enough of a confirmation– before your eyes are shut in expectation and his soft lips land on yours, the sweetness of candy mixing in with the saccharine nature of his personality, gentle presses to your parted mouth making your knees week with bliss. Your hands hesitantly find their place on his neck, bringing him closer when he tries to pull away, earning yourself a smile from the male that you can feel in the kiss, the knot in your stomach fully disappearing and morphing into lightness and gentle fluttering.

Feeling the man sucking on your bottom lip and gently pinching the skin of your hip that he’s still kneading in between his fingers, you squeal into the contact as he gently hosts you up onto the kitchen counter, lips attacking yours only breaking apart when the microwave goes off and you try to catch your breath in between hungry kisses.

“Jaemin–”

“Hm?” he hums as his lips occupy themselves with your jaw instead, seeing as you’re meaning to talk right now and he’s a gentleman– he doesn’t want to break your words.

“The popcorn’s done,” you sigh, his lips only reaching further down your neck, not really paying attention to anything you’re saying, only responding with a content hum of acknowledgment. Seeing as he doesn’t really care– and neither do you, honestly, with his lips so magically attached to your skin– you let yourself indulge in the action again, tugging him back towards your face by his chin and connecting your lips once again, firm kisses exchanged between the two of you as his hands stay secure on the curve of your hips.

Fingers threading into the hair on his nape, you chuckle into the kiss when he talks in between, annoying you and amusing you at the same time– since you can’t get enough of his mouth, but still find his words kind of funny. “Oh look, it only took this long for you to realize I have a crush on you…”

Tired of his teasing, you shake your head in disbelief as you decide to move your lips away from his mouth, but rather pressing them along his jaw, just the way he did only a few seconds ago, shyly, yet determinately attaching yourself to his neck, pressing soft kisses steadily in between more hungrier ones, admiring the redness of his skin when you part away from him and see the wet spots you just attacked. “Can’t say it wasn’t worth it, though,” he hums as you seemingly find his soft spot, his whole body reacting as he squirms under you and moves you so you’re back against his lips, the contact more heated and rushed.

His hand slowly teases the edge of your shirt, cold fingertips drumming across your belly, and the further up he moves, the more goosebumps appear all over your back, pressing yourself closer to him on the uncomfortable kitchen counter.

“I know Yizhuo said no shagging on the kitchen counter, but I mean…” he hums as his hand reaches the hem of your bra, “what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her, am I right?”

Giggling at his comment, you momentarily contemplate to giving in to the temptation, but a loud noise coming from the living room is enough to wake you up back to your senses, the sound of the movie acting as a wake up call, causing your whole body to jump and shrug Jaemin’s hands off you; his swollen lips and flushed cheeks on your full display when you gape at him.

“The movie’s playing?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods, “forgot to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me! I explained that you can’t pause it, now we have to load it again because rewinding it does the same,” you mourn, pushing him a little further away from you so you can jump off the counter and chime into the living room, his footsteps following you.

“I mean, I thought this was much more entertaining than the movie, but okay,” he says, causing you to playfully swat him on the shoulder before you close the tab and reopen it again, shoving him towards the kitchen instead.

“Go and get the popcorn out. I’ll load it back up, since you’re totally useless at the art of pirating,” you chime, rolling his eyes at him, battling back the grin that’s threatening to settle onto your features all while you’re trying to calm down the erratic beating of your heart.

And when the movie finally plays and you let yourself settle against Jaemin’s figure on the sofa, content with his arms around your middle and the occasional comments he lets out at the scenes rolling on the screen, you find yourself wondering how after all of this, this is the way you end up with him– spontaneously and totally unprepared.

A scene of Peter Parker appears on your laptop, the man in the red spider suit shooting webs to the top of the building to get MJ into safety, making a bubbly laugh heave out of Jaemin’s throat. “I wish I had those when I had to carry you drunk to the top floor,” he teases.

“Oh shut up, you did that to yourself,” you roll your eyes, reminding yourself of the day with much despair in your memory.

“And what was I supposed to do, leave you there?” he chuckles. “Besides, I quite liked the journey. Didn’t even mind that it took so long… it made the top floor feel like a big reward, you know,” he says, and when he looks at you from the corner of his eye, his orbs warming up like hot chocolate,

you swear there’s a metaphor– hell, a life lesson– somewhere in there.

#nct #nct dream #na jaemin #jaemin #nct x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin fic #jaemin fanfic #jaemin drabble #jaemin imagine #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fic

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stellayuta · 7 months ago

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Love on The Grid - Formula 1 AU! Yuta Okkotsu - Pt 2.

Your likes, comments and reblogs really encourage me to write more! So do interact with this post and let me know your thoughts 🧡

PART 1

synopsis: One-night stands were nothing but a necessary painkiller for your inability to cross paths with true love. Your most recent find at a Vegas Club was no different. He was boring, obedient, SLOW! You leave him high and hanging hoping you'd never see him again until you find yourself gawking at a supersized billboard of him on a Vegas highway with the title 'LEGEND RETURNS TO VEGAS'.

genre: some s*xual tension, a lot of fluff, thrill and angst

content: 18+ only. Formula one driver! Yuta x f! reader, use of alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex

word count: 5k

a/n: part 2 came soon because i'm so pumped lolol. Note, In this story, Megumi and Toji aren't related.

WARNING: always use protection!

You sat in your hot, plastic seat with bated breath, like a thousand others, keeping your eyes trained on the asphalt of the track.

Even though it was November, temperatures in Vegas were no good - either that, or the revelation that your hookup from last night is a world-renowned athlete is making you nauseous.

You were in the most uncomfortable position in the entire stands combined, smack in the middle of a fired up Noritoshi and a spiteful Kokichi, who were planning on probably shouting at the top of their lungs for their favorite driver on the grid.

"When's this starting?" You turn to Miwa, a bit nervous.are You nervous to see that man, Yuta, in the middle of his job? What if he doesn't perform well - that would be embarrassing. Oh well, no one here knows about us anyway so it's fine. Except for his number one fan Noritoshi maybe.

"Well, they're almost done with the formation lap, so they should line up at the start line soon. Red Bull's Geto has the pole with a surprise front line seat for Ferrari's Gojo. King Okkotsu is sitting third with Ferrari's second, Itadori Yuji. Then it's Red Bull's Mahito followed by Merc's Toge and - " he goes on and on, speaking jargon and names You don't understand.

"Noritoshi." You stop him in the middle of his enthusiastic speech. "You understand that none of what you said passed through my brain right?"

"Ah well, none of it matters!" He cackles. "When the race begins - you will know who you'll cheer for and who will have you at the edge of your seat. Who gets your heart pumping." He says, fisting his chest. The last bit seemed a bit unintentionally personal but you roll your eyes at him anyway.

The drivers are soon done with their 'formation lap' which Kokichi is nice enough to enlighten you - is a circle they do around the track to prep their tyres for the race and check the tracks and engines. You also see now that Pole is the car sitting first in the starting lineup, as you narrow your eyes at dark, red and blue car zooming its way to ease into the frontmost bracket. That must be the bane of Noritoshi's existence and the Object of Kokichi's desire - Geto Suguru.

Behind him is a flashy red car that earns a deafening roar of cheer as he comes into position. That must Gojo Satoru.

Music Recommendation:

Behind him, and you find yourself looking really keenly. You spot the teal and midnight black hues of a fiery car, followed by another deafening roar and a partial standing ovation. So that's him. 'Mr. Cute Dick, I don't drink, I am not a virgin'. You smirk at thought of such a wallflower being at the center of one of the hottest sports in the world, in a championship with the highest stakes.

"Looks like Y/N is an Okkotsu fan." Noritoshi claims, grinning sarcastically at Kokichi who replies with a grimace. "No, I clearly saw her looking keenly at Geto."

"Ah, shut up the two of you." You snap. "Let me watch!"

The both of them exchange glances at your sudden interest but humor you as the crowd waits with a chilling silence. The five red lights light up, sounding a beep and you can hear your heartbeat in that moment as they turn green without warning and the race is on!

The set of 20 cars pick up speed at a maddening rate and are soon accelerating through the curves and straights of the track, tailing one another. The commentator is particularly zealous, and you find yourself listening to him with a lot of attention. Your eyes never leave the Teal and Dark vehicle with his tiny head popping out the cockpit, protected by his shiny, silver helmet.

For around 30 laps or so, nothing changes, and the people have started chatting amongst themselves. You slump back down into your seat.

There is some action going on at the back of the line-up with a few of the cars overtaking and re-overtaking one another.

"Well, this is boring…" You admit.

"It has its moments." Noritoshi states. "Oh wait, what's that-"

You turn to the track so fast, your vision goes blurry, and You nearly miss the spectacle.

The second red is quickly closing in on Yuta's Teal but Yuta swivels out of the way just in time, apparently surprising his tail-end as the driver, Itadori, loses control and touches the back of the first red car, Gojo's. Both of them start spinning dramatically and are vaulted out of the race at one of the turns.

"Collision! In the Top Five! Both Ferraris are out!" The commentator is roaring out now, with several people standing to get a better view.

You yourself are concerned for the Ferraris that seemed to have lost some parts of the car, leaving behind a trail of debris. But soon enough, both drivers emerge from their respective cars, with the taller one giving the crowd a thumbs up. He removes his helmet and a layer of clothing to reveal striking snow-white hair and dazzling smile. This sport is too fucking dangerous.

"The collision will be under investigation for sure to see if Ferrari's Number 3, Itadori is at fault! For now, the safety car is out."

You train your gaze on Yuta again. He seems to have taken a different route from the track now, heading towards a group of people, clad in suits and uniforms similar to the colors of his car.

"Hey, what's he doing?" You ask Noritoshi. You almost hear Kokichi mumbling "Oh shit." under his breath.

"That's a pit stop. Change of Tyres. Now is a brilliant time for this." Noritoshi says, his lips quivering. Is he really that excited for Yuta.

"The Safety Car has been taken off and with Mercedes' Number 7 quick thinking, Okkotsu takes the lead of the race!" The commentator announces earning a barrage of cheer from the crowd and a giant sigh from Kokichi.

"But not far behind him is Red Bull's Number 4, Geto, fastest car of the crop, who is looking to overtake… He has the DRS on and, and…." You don't need to listen to the commentator anymore because You see it happening and You almost let out some weird feral choke as Yuta barely, barely manages to keep his lead and the vicious, red and blue car accepts defeat, staying behind. You finally breathe out when You see Yuta gaining some speed and maintaining a good distance between him and Geto.

Kokichi pokes your shoulder and gives you a look of immense worry when You realize You are literally gripping your hair at the roots with both hands.

"ah, hah!" You laugh nervously, letting go off your now scrunched up hair. You lean back again as they announce the final lap and with no difficulty, as the checkered flag is waved, Yuta's Mercedes finishes first, with Geto behind him, followed by the other red bull, Mahito.

All of us rise to give the winners a standing ovation as confetti is blasted into the air and fireworks decorate the already shimmering Vegas skyline. You watch in wonder at the colors in the sky as Yuta pumps his fists up, getting out of his car and running over to his team.

"Good win, bro." Kokichi smiles at Noritoshi, who You now notice is on the verge of tears.

You see Yuta remove his helmet, but You can only make out his dark hair from this distance. You don't stop yourself from pouting at the disappointment. Why do You feel like You deserve being close to him right now. Maybe your good-luck suck off today guaranteed his win.

You see him disappear into the pavilion and ask Noritoshi if we can take a closer look at them.

"Close is not close enough to get their autographs but I can get you close enough to see their faces." Noritoshi claims and You give him a smile of gratitude.

"Geez Y/N. Did I really convert you in one race? Can't say if I'm prouder of you or myself." He jokes.

We stand for the Japanese national anthem as we cheer for the winning drivers receiving their trophies and drowning each other in champagne. Geto Suguru doesn't seem to be too keen to join into the racket, but Mahito wants to push the whole bottle down Yuta's throat. You smirk at the view. No teetotalling today?

As the crowd disperses out of the stands, we make our way through as well. You are tightly holding on to one of Miwa's and Momo's hands, each.

Noritoshi guides us through a few sections of the crowd and through a few random nooks and alleys of the arena until we reach what seems like a back gate. You see that a sizable yet dealable crowd is already standing there with Cameras and posters and shirts in hand.

"Well, this is a guarded secret, so not many know." Noritoshi winks at us. Today You are glad You became friends with his girlfriend, Momo.

We join the rows of people, but you fight your way to at least the second from start row, earning a lot of swears and some chick even trying to pull your hair.

You gaze at the gate with hope. One last look. Just to curb your excitement. It's just excitement nothing else. I'll be done after this. I'll go back to your city and drown yourself in work. None of this ever happened…. but why do You feel oddly bitter.

Is it because You realized Yuta and You are worlds apart? You are just an ordinary, honest worker - a commonality. Whereas he a star athlete, loved by the masses and with access to as many options as he wants. But what You have learnt from your past is, people can be as special or common as they want - a person who wants to find options, will always go out in search of options.

And as if to prove your point, You feel an ominous buzz in your hands right as You hear the doors open. You check your phone to see the screen flashing "Megumi Baby." right onto your face. You don't react or move; You simply glare at the screen. You are unable to breath as memories come flooding in.

Promises, nectar-soaked words, caressing your face with the deepest look of love. His bare back shining with sweat as he pounded into a girl from your workplace that YOU had introduced to him as your coworker. Him turning around, expressionless, leaving without giving you an explanation. Him telling you that you were expecting too much of him and You should have never assumed we were a thing since he was just trying new things in life.

All of it comes back to me, not particularly with ease. It washes over you like a tsunami. Completely drowns me. It's not until the incessant shouting of the crowd brings you to your senses that You snap out of your trance.

"Yuta! Yuta!" the people cheer. "Look here, please, just once. Yuta!"

You stare in horror as You spot Yuta's back getting into his matte black car. You are only able to see a small fraction of the back of his head and his white shirt.

You missed your chance.

You look back at the still ringing phone and want to smash it to bits. Fuck you, Megumi. Fuck you.

The first thing You do is cut the call and block his vile number. Then You try to scream out Yuta's name too in a futile attempt to get his attention, but You are not loud enough.

Amazing.

You start laughing to yourself now.

What was the point of this?

You recall yourself looking in the mirror at your apartment, coaching yourself to make this a pleasure trip. You would hookup with the best guy You could find, forget Megumi for good and move on with your life. So, whatare You doing now?

That guy Yuta would probably head to some lavish after party now and have a string of the prettiest girls in the world willing to suck him off. What use is it down?

The realization nearly brings you to tears. You should have never tried. You slowly retract your raised hands and sink back into the crowd, letting them continue their cheers. You turn back and slowly make your way out of the crowd and towards your friends.

"Wow, Y/N. Even Noritoshi and I didn't go that far in. You good?" Kokichi asks.

"Y/N, sweetie, you look like you're about to throw up what's wrong?" Momo asks me, cupping your face while Miwa rubs your arm.

"Megumi called…" You admit and all of them show a violent shift in expression.

"You haven't blocked that asshole yet?" Miwa asks, furious. You shake your head. "I just did."

"Y/N. You better not maintain any contact with him. He's the absolute scum of-"

"Hey, hey there miss." Suddenly our discussion is interrupted by a polite voice. We all turn around to see two men in suits and glasses standing tall and strong, waiting behind us. They look oddly familiar somehow with the waxed-up hair and somber faces. One of them has a scar near his lips and the other has his hair in a messy bun.

"Miss, are you the one who took Mr. Okkotsu out of the Four Seasons Club last night?" One of them, the bun guy, asks in a business-like fashion, pointing at me. Ah, now You remember them. The two lookers from the club last night, hiding Mr. wallflower behind their broad backs.

Scarface gets a call before You could reply though.

"Yes, Mr. Okkotsu. We're on our way. Well, we have a surprise for you." he tells Mr. Okkotsu mischievously. You narrow your eyes at the word "Surprise."

Scarface exchanges a knowing look with Bunhair and both of them cage you in.

"Would you like to see Mr. Okkotsu, again? It's not like we can force you, but he gave us specific instructions to find you and let him know."

"I didn't make him out to be a stalker you know." You say sarcastically, pondering if You should accept their offer. your friends do give you a strange look and You almost want to tell at least Noritoshi what's going on. But before You can take a call, You get a beep from your phone. This time it's a fucking EMAIL from Megumi.

Jesus, this man.

"I'm coming." You say abruptly. "I'll meet up with you guys later." You tell your friends as they give you looks of utter confusion.

"And burn this shitty device please." you say, tossing your phone towards Kokichi. "At least until I get some sort of restraining order against Megumi."

You exchange a look with Noritoshi and he knows in his heart that You will certainly get an autograph for him.

The two men take surround you as they guide you towards the waiting car. A matte black Lambo. They make sure to hide you from prying eyes, which isn't too hard with their gigantic muscular bodies.

You take a deep breath before You open the door and slide in.

Yuta and you share a good 10 seconds of absolute silence. Honestly, he looks like he's about to fracture his jaw from how wide his gaping mouth is getting. The two men climb into the front and openly laugh at his expression.

"Really, Okkotsu?" they say in unison.

"Wh-wh-wha-" He stutters.

"If you're that offended to see me, I can get out." You tease him, knowing he's going to grab your arm and make you stay. That's exactly what he does.

"Sorry, I was just surprised." He regains his composure. "Well, it's good to see you again, after last time…"

Uff, he shouldn't remind you because you wouldn't be able to control your cheeks getting flushed. There is another round of awkward silence before he decides to continue.

"Ah, right. You left your undergarments in the room last night, I thought you'd want them back so I-" before he can say anything else you slap your palm onto his lips, turning an embarrassing shade of tomato red.

"Not here, not right now!" You whisper-yell at him but his bodyguards/managers/goons/whatevers are quick to catch onto the conversation. Scarface who's driving the car gives you a perverted whistle without turning back and Bun-guy merely hums to himself, pretending to not have heard anything.

"T-Toji, that's impolite!" Yuta shouts at the scarface driver, turning red himself.

"It's not an uncommon thing with you. Aren't you creating quite a collection anyway?" The bun-guy butts in, leaving Yuta defenseless.

"Todo!" he yells at him too and slumps back into his seat, hiding his face. You study him. This was the champion race car driver an hour ago - and now he's a blushy, awkward, highly embarassing puddle.

"Collection, so you do this a lot huh?" You poke him.

"Absolutely not!" He sits up again. "Last night, I just…"

Now you're interested. Sounds like he broke a rule for you.

"Last night what?"

"Well, I just-"

"Oh my god, speak up, Okkotsu!" Toji screams from the wheel.

"Nevermind!" Yuta retorts and grabs your hands. "Are you coming to the after-party or not?"

"Well, I don't have a gown or anything…" You reply, looking down at your very non-party like clothing - a pin strip pant suit.

"Honestly…" He looks you dead in the eye. "You look so gorgeous, I don't want others to stare too much but if you want a dress, we can make a stop. I'll cover it, don't worry." He assures me, feeling a bit less awkward now.

For that compliment, he deserves to see a pretty dress on you and probably a flick to the forehead for making your heart race.

Todo seems to have a good eye for stores because the boutique he takes us to has a brilliant selection of clothes from classy to elegant to teasingly hot and even a corner for some sexy stuff.

You take some time to think and pick out a silvery satin cowl neck dress that compliments your cleavage and stops just a few inches shy of your womanhood. You also pair it will sparkly, strappy heels. You'll just have to make sure to walk properly to not expose anything… unless. When you walk out of the fitting room, you find Yuta waiting beside the billing counter, on his phone, matching your colors, in a light grey tux and black shirt-trouser set. He has combed his hair in a side part, looking rather sharp and you can smell his fresh cologne from a distance. He hears the clacking of your heels and looks up, his lips parting slightly at the sight.

For a moment when your eyes meet, everything stills, like the two of you are the only people in this room. The magnetic pull is something you have never experienced before, not even with Megumi, who you once thought was the love of your life. You walk over to him quickly, tucking your hair behind your ear and give him a twirl. "What do you think?"

"Might have to punch anyone who looks at you wrong tonight." He admits, sheepishly.

"W-What?" You mumble, looking away. Megumi could never. All he told you was to dress modestly so the men won't look. Never did he say he'd protect you. Maybe he never had the balls or talent to.

"Okay, you two get back in the car." Toji yawns at us, getting impatient or perhaps slightly weirded out by the clear tension between us.

The drive to one of Las Vegas' most affluent casino clubs was short and silent. You weren't really mentally prepared to see celebrities and big shots, partying away.

"This will be the best night of your life, I promise." Yuta assures you, intertwining his fingers with yours. You let him only because it calms your nerves. There are a few questions you need answers to though.

"Why are you doing this?" You ask and see Yuta's brow furrow.

"Are you uncomfortable or anything? You can't tell me-"

"It's not that... it's just..." you start. "It really doesn't make sense."

"I am not the most spectacular lay in the world." you admit. "I'm sure you have the world's most exquisite looking women dying to get time with you. I just don't see how being with me can benefit you."

You notice yourself putting yourself down and try to stop but your self-esteem is at an all-time low. That was one of the prime reasons you didn't want to meet up again with anyone you hooked up with during this trip. You wanted to leave feeling all parties involved had the best time of their lives and had no complaints.

Maybe lust got the better of Yuta and he'd come to his senses any minute.

"I think I liked the fact that you had no idea who I was..." He says and you raise your brows.

"I'm sorry I was unaware-"

"Nope, it's a good thing... I felt like I could just be the party loser, Yuta, for once... not a papped, scrutinized driver, Yuta. It felt oddly liberating." He admits.

"Plus, I-" He starts but swallows his words. "Do you remember what we talked about on the way to the hotel?"

You were not paying too much attention back then, being bowled over by the need to fuck someone, but... what did you say?

"Kids, we're here. Catch up later." Todo lets you two know, looking back. Before you could get off though, Yuta leans over.

"Are you going to tell me your name now or not?" He says. The shadows must be playing tricks on your eyes because in the dark, illuminated by paparazzi flashes you find your heart drumming inside your chest, unable to break eye contact.

"Y-Y/N. My name's Y/N." You say finally.

Yuta smiles wide at this and grabs one of your hands, opening the door to his flashy car and the light, noise and cheers hit you all at once.

He helps you get out suddenly, facing a sea of stunned yet curious people, you find yourself wanting to cry from embarrassment.

Oh no. no no no no no! What were they going to print about you now? What will you tell the managing director at your company about this PR scandal?

"Relax." Yuta holds your hand firmly. "I'll make sure only the news you want gets out." He reassures you, find your fingers again, locking them into his and you feel slightly better as you guys make our way to the inside, walking the red carpet.

The casino obviously is so maximalist, it hurts your eyes to say the least. There are people dressed in grandeur lining up at food tables, cigar tables and alcohol tables. There are some playing a few rounds of poker or gambling away at the machines. You are unable to focus on any one spot because all of it is so grandiose, you can't help but gawk at everything!

When people spot the two of you though, they quickly make their way over. Yuta is today's champion after all - this party is for him. They have a lot of good things to say to him - words of admiration, congratulations, words of passive aggressive envy but what all of them have in common is the looks of confusion or judgement they throw at you. One side-eye with a raised brow and they excuse themselves. Sure, no sparkly dress can make you look like one of them, but you had no idea 'big'-shots had the smallest sense of morals and social etiquette. Yuta introduces you as a 'good friend' to them and although it stings at first, this is a necessary step. It's what you would want and would cause the least amount of headache for the both of you. You aren't really friends or aren't really dating after all.

'One time Hookup-ers' isn't exactly a PR friendly term.

"Sorry about them. Most of them lack manners." Yuta says nervously but you reassure him that nothing they say can dent your self-image.

"No amount of looks they give me can change the fact that I'm not drowning in daddy's money, but my own." You smirk at him, leaving him impressed.

The two of you go through a few more people until you finally get to retire to a corner table of the giant ball room.

"How do you do this?" you ask, staring up at the magnificent chandelier crowning the hall.

"Well the boys never stay back for these kinds of things, we run off to different parts of the city to get wasted." He replies. "Just not before race night." You look at him with some mischief tingling behind your smile. He takes this chance to lean in closer and bump noses with you.

"And you thought I was inexperienced, didn't you?"

"So that's how you aren't a virgin...hmm, adventurous."

But Yuta shakes his head. "I've dated before. We ended things and I'm just beginning to explore my options now..."

"You must be spoilt for choice." You try to boost his ego, smiling wider as you feel his breath fan your face. Oh, how you could use a kiss right now. A kiss with everyone watching.

"I'm not spoilt for good choices." He says. "Having a choice doesn't always mean they're the best option for you." Damn, that's harsh. You cup his cheek in your hand and gaze into his dark blue eyes.

"And yet you gave me a chance-"

Before you can finish though, you hear a pair of boots slapping the ground while running in your direction.

"Okkotsu Yuta, you were supposed to give me the post-race comments. The media is waiting!" You hear a woman yell out as she approaches the two of you. She is dressed in a simple yet elegant navy-blue ensemble. Her eyes look disappointed, but her beautiful face, with its under-lip mole, maintains its poise. Yuta greets her with a sigh.

"I will, I will." He tells her. "Rika, let me off for today at least."

"No can do, Yuta." she shakes her head, getting her phone out.

"You can give me a few phrases and I'll piece together something coherent." she offers but Yuta doesn't want to hear it.

"Um, kind of in the middle of something?" He reminds her, circling his arm around your back.

The woman, Rika, gives you a pointed look. "You get one of those every other week. This is important business Yuta."

What does she mean those? You slightly free yourself from Yuta's embrace and look at him, confused. He looks as unaware as you are.

"Rika, you-"

"Yuta, you should stop toying with chicks. New one every few days. And when they want to get serious with you, I have to deal with all those calls and messages." Rika rants on and Yuta's eyes are getting wider by the minute.

For a second, you feel an empty pit in your stomach but before it can show on your face, you stand up.

"So that's how it is, huh?" you corner Yuta who looks aghast.

"Why am I even surprised?" you mutter, walking away from them. You remember Megumi's deadpan face as he walked out after you caught him and his mistress together. Yuta will be the same.

You reach for the balcony door to get some fresh air, but you feel your elbow being grabbed. It's Yuta. Huffing and very worried.

"W-wait, Y/N." He pleads.

You choose to keep your face neutral.

"It's fine. it's not like we were dating. Maybe, tell that woman to be mindful about her language though because the next time she addresses me as if I'm some object, I'll punch her." That threat, You are very serious about. This was a bad idea after all. You don't belong in the world of racecars, and parties and high-profile vips. You are happy with your computer and 3 cups of americanos, building prolific, useful software, from your cramped up office.

"Listen, Y/N... She was lying!" He tries to reason, and you take a look at him. You mentally give him thirty seconds to explain himself. He takes the cue and wastes no time.

"She's the one I dated. She has been my manager for a long time, and it has been some time since we split. I thought she had moved on since I saw her with another driver a while back but looks like she's still bitter." He explains frantically. But who he has dated isn't even your concern.

"I don't want to deal with fragments of your past, especially ex-flames, Yuta." you say bluntly. "I'm sorry, I have to leave now. Goodbye. Thanks for the evening."

You free yourself from Yuta's clutches, stifling a sob and heading towards the exit. You may have been seeing things, but you see a fluff of white follow you out from the corner of your eyes. It wasn't Yuta though.

Why did you care? It shouldn't matter.

No amount of love could bring people a universe apart, after all.

To be continued....READ PART 3 HERE!!

a/n: Okay there is practically no smut here but the plot needs some build up. Part 3 gonna be out soon and it's going to have a lot of smut, stay tuned guys!

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