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gyorouis · 3 months ago

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𐙚 HOPELESSLY YOURS - CYJ

— you don't want to be his girlfriend? well he theorizes you are just in denial.

genre: fluff, crack, strangers to lovers trope ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

pairing: persistent suitor!yeonjun x afab!reader

warning: kiss (?), lots of swearing, kms jokes, if i forgot anything pls let me know !!

word count: 8.1k (lol)

now playing: eraserheads — ligaya ୨ৎ

the hall buzzed with chatter and laughter as the alumni homecoming party got into full swing. yeonjun walked in, greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of old friends and acquaintances. he quickly spotted his group in the corner, huddled around a table far from the dance floor and the bar, where most people were gathered.

“yeonjun! over here!” soobin waved, standing up to give his friend a quick hug.

beomgyu was already slouched in his chair, scrolling through his phone with a look of pure boredom. hueningkai and taehyun were quietly chatting, occasionally glancing around the room as if to make sure no one was watching them too closely.

“finally, you’re here,” taehyun said with a smirk. “thought you were gonna ditch us for some popular crowd.”

yeonjun grinned, pulling out a chair to join them. “as if i’d leave you guys to fend for yourselves.”

“parties, man. never really amuses me,” beomgyu muttered, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

taehyun chuckled, “funny coming from the guy who never missed a single one in college.”

the group laughed, the sound carrying memories of their younger days. there was a comfortable silence that followed as they all seemed to drift back to the past.

“remember how beomgyu used to pick fights with anyone who looked at him funny?” soobin said, a teasing smile on his face.

“or when yeonjun and taehyun nearly killed each other over the mvp title during high school?” hueningkai added, his eyes sparkling with the memory.

“don’t forget hueningkai’s epic rants about being stood up during highschool,” taehyun said, nudging kai with his elbow.

“hey, that was a dark time for me!” hueningkai pouted, making everyone laugh.

“and soobin... staying up late, obsessing over keeping his room spotless before we came over for sleepovers,” yeonjun added, grinning at the tall guy.

“hey, someone had to make sure you guys didn’t destroy the place,” soobin replied, chuckling.

they exchanged looks, the kind that only old friends could share, and smiled at each other, a genuine warmth settling over them. it was soobin who broke the silence.

“remember the time when yeonjun was courting y/n?” he asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

yeonjun immediately groaned, covering his face with his hand. “why do you have to bring that up?”

hueningkai jumped in, “oh, and the way he cried when y/n rejected him the first time? classic.”

they all chuckled at the memory, and yeonjun couldn’t help but smile, even if it was at his own expense. how could he forget about it? afterall, you are the first girl who ever made him question himself.

“no, i don’t want to be your girlfriend.” your voice was steady, almost monotone, and it hit yeonjun like a lightning bolt. rejection? from you?

yeonjun wasn’t used to this. in high school, girls practically lined up to say yes to him, like their lives depended on it. but you… you were different. you didn’t even know who he was until college orientation, when you were both sophomores. the first time he saw you, assisting students with your hair in a messy ponytail, yeonjun was completely captivated.

since that day, he made it his mission to find out everything about you, even going so far as to befriend professors to make sure he took the same minors as you.

“dude, i think she likes me,” yeonjun announced one evening, smirking as the five of them sat in a pc cafe. beomgyu gave him a skeptical look.

“the fuck you talking about?” beomgyu muttered, not bothering to look away from his game.

“i mean, she looks at me,” yeonjun said, giggling as he recalled the time you watched him during an extemporaneous speech competition.

“she’s got eyes, dude,” soobin replied without missing a beat.

“wasn’t that when you were giving a speech?” taehyun added, earning a groan from yeonjun.

“and she clapped,” yeonjun argued, trying to ignore the fact that it was just polite to clap after a performance.

“everybody claps, dude,” hueningkai finished, making yeonjun tsk in frustration before turning his attention back to the game.

it had been like this for a good couple of months—yeonjun’s subtle attempts to catch your attention, his not-so-subtle theories about your feelings for him, and your complete obliviousness to it all. he was persistent, though, and eventually, he decided it was time to take the first real move.

one day, during a small thesis preparation session, you were flipping through pages of research, trying to figure out a topic that wouldn’t bore you to death. the professor had assigned everyone a two-person thesis project, and the thought of finding a partner had been weighing on your mind. you were about to ask one of your friends when yeonjun suddenly appeared beside you, his voice confident and almost commanding.

“hey, you’re my partner for the thesis,” he declared, not even bothering to ask if you agreed.

you blinked, staring at him in confusion. “uh… excuse me?”

“you heard me,” he said with a grin, and before you could protest or even process what was happening, he was already halfway out the door. “see you tomorrow for our first meeting!”

you sat there, dumbfounded. as far as you could remember, you’d never had any significant interaction with yeonjun during the entire semester. he’d only recently transferred into your schedule, and other than the occasional nod in the hallway or a brief hello in class, there was nothing between the two of you. yet here he was, claiming you as his thesis partner as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

the next day, you found yourself in the library, seated at a table piled high with books and notes. you were trying to focus on the thesis outline when yeonjun walked in, looking far too cheerful for someone about to dive into hours of research.

“ready to get started?” he asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“i guess,” you replied, still a bit wary of him. “so, why did you pick me as your partner? there were plenty of other people you could’ve asked.”

yeonjun shrugged, giving you one of those infuriatingly charming smiles. “i figured you’d be the best match for me. plus, i heard you’re really smart.”

you raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. “you don’t even know me.”

“sure i do,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “you’re y/n. you’re always on top of things, you’re not afraid to speak your mind, and you have this cool way of looking at the world. who wouldn’t want you as a partner?”

his words left you momentarily speechless. was he seriously trying to flatter you? and more importantly, was he succeeding? you pushed the thought aside, focusing on the task at hand.

“well, if we’re going to work together, we need to set some ground rules,” you said, trying to sound firm. “no slacking off, no leaving everything to the last minute, and definitely no distractions.”

yeonjun held up his hands in mock surrender. “whatever you say, boss.”

despite your initial reservations, the study session went surprisingly well. yeonjun was focused and surprisingly knowledgeable about the topic you’d chosen. you found yourself actually enjoying the collaboration, even if he did have a habit of cracking jokes at the most inappropriate moments.

“so, after we finish this part, we should—” you started to say, but yeonjun interrupted.

“take a break and get some ice cream?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “finish the outline first, then we’ll talk about ice cream.”

“deal,” yeonjun agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

after a few more study sessions, yeonjun’s persistence only grew. he started finding excuses to hang out with you more often, from asking you to help him with other assignments to randomly showing up wherever you were. it was clear he was trying to make a move, but you weren’t sure how to respond.

one day after class, yeonjun casually invited you to join him and his friends for lunch.

“you should come sit with us today,” yeonjun said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you hesitated, not sure if you were ready to dive into his social circle. “um… i don’t know…”

“come on, it’ll be fun,” he urged, flashing that smile of his, the one that made it really hard to say no. “my friends are cool, i promise.”

reluctantly, you agreed. before you knew it, you were walking with yeonjun toward the cafeteria, your nerves tightening with each step.

as you approached the crowded cafeteria, yeonjun spotted his friends before you did. “there they are!” he waved, his voice tinged with excitement. you followed his gaze and saw a group of people sitting at a table, chatting animatedly.

the first person who caught your eye was a guy with long hair and white streaks. he was looking at the two of you with a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately felt your brows knit in confusion. yeonjun just gave you a knowing smile before gesturing for you to walk with him to their table.

“hey, this is y/n!” yeonjun introduced you, his voice a little too enthusiastic. you glanced around the table, trying to take in everyone at once. there was a tall guy who seemed taller even when he’s sitting down, and beside him was a girl who looked like she could be his girlfriend. across from them, another guy with bleached hair sat next to a girl who had a bright, friendly smile.

“hi! i’m beomgyu!” the long-haired guy with the white streaks grinned at you, clearly the one who had been teasing yeonjun earlier. you smiled back, nodding in acknowledgment.

before you could say anything, another guy with silver hair, his aura not as bright as the others, piped up. “dude, there are no pepsi today, we got you coke and lemonade instead.”

you realized he was talking to yeonjun, who just nodded and gave a small “thanks” before turning back to you.

“what are you waiting for? christmas? sit!” beomgyu gestured for you to sit, and you chuckled before finding a seat between yeonjun and the girl next to the tall guy.

the lunch was surprisingly fun. the guys bantered nonstop, making you laugh more than you had in a while. you quickly found yourself warming up to soobin, the tall guy, and his girlfriend, she had introduced herself to you as well. they were sweet and easy to talk to, and you couldn’t help but feel grateful that yeonjun had asked you to join them.

“so, y/n,” beomgyu leaned in, that mischievous grin back on his face, “how long have you been putting up with yeonjun?”

you rolled your eyes playfully, trying to play along. “not long,” you replied. “we’re thesis partners, so i guess i’m stuck with him for a while.”

“poor thing,” taehyun, the silver haired one, said with mock sympathy, earning laughter from the rest of the group.

as the conversation flowed, you found yourself getting into a lighthearted debate with soobin about the best study spots on campus. what started as a simple disagreement somehow turned into a full-blown group discussion about everything from favorite coffee shops to weird professors.

just as you were starting to feel truly comfortable, beomgyu decided to stir the pot. “anyway, y/n, how long have you two been dating?” he asked casually, his tone too innocent to be genuine.

you nearly choked on your food. “w-we’re not dating!” you stammered, your face burning with embarrassment.

yeonjun, who had been in the middle of taking a bite of his sandwich, almost spit it out in surprise. “yeah, what she said!” he quickly added, his voice a little too loud, his eyes wide with panic.

“aw, come on, you two would be cute together,” beomgyu teased, waggling his eyebrows, clearly enjoying the chaos he was causing.

“seriously, beomgyu, knock it off,” taehyun said, though his smirk made it clear he was just as amused as beomgyu.

you shot yeonjun a look, silently pleading with him to say something, anything, to shut beomgyu up. but yeonjun just laughed it off, nudging you playfully. the moment you started stammering, denying it with all your might, yeonjun felt his own cheeks heat up. he had quickly jumped in to support your denial, but the damage had been done. he could see the embarrassment written all over your face, and it made his heart sink.

“relax, y/n,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “he’s just messing with you.”

you managed a weak smile, but inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this lunch had been a terrible idea. as much as you were starting to like yeonjun’s friends, the attention and teasing were making you feel overwhelmed. as much as he wanted to laugh it off, to make you feel at ease, he couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. maybe he had pushed too hard, too fast. maybe bringing you into his world like this had been a mistake.

but then he saw you smiling weakly, trying to laugh along with the rest of them, and he felt a pang of guilt. he had wanted to share his friends with you, to make you feel welcome, but now he wasn’t so sure if that was what you wanted.

as the lunch went on, yeonjun found himself glancing at you more often, trying to gauge how you were feeling. when you finally caught his eye, he offered you a small, apologetic smile, hoping it was enough to convey what he couldn’t put into words.

the night was the same as usual, the five of them scattered around soobin’s living room, snacks strewn everywhere. yeonjun was pacing back and forth, running his fingers through his hair for what felt like the millionth time, repeating the same thing he’d been saying all night.

“i’m telling you guys, she likes me!”

the collective groan that followed was almost in perfect harmony.

“yeonjun, this is like, the eighth time this week you’ve said that,” taehyun muttered, rubbing his temples. “and it’s only wednesday.”

“i think she does,” hueningkai chimed in, leaning back against the couch, his tone thoughtful. yeonjun’s eyes lit up, only to dim a second later when kai added, “...but she doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you.”

yeonjun’s smile dropped as fast as it had appeared, and he shot hueningkai a sharp look. “what do you mean by that?”

beomgyu snickered from his spot on the floor, popping a chip into his mouth. “who would want to be with you, though?” he said with a smirk.

without missing a beat, yeonjun pointed dramatically at beomgyu, echoing his words with exaggerated emphasis. “WHO WOULD WANT to be with you!”

beomgyu burst into laughter, clearly satisfied with the reaction he’d gotten, and soon everyone else was laughing too—except for yeonjun, of course.

“i’m serious, guys!” yeonjun insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. “she’s gonna be my girlfriend, and when that happens, i. will. kill. y’all.”

beomgyu shrugged nonchalantly, barely containing his grin. “well, i guess i’m going to live a long life then.”

the room erupted in laughter again, and yeonjun threw a pillow at beomgyu, who dodged it with ease.

before yeonjun could argue further, his mind drifted back to earlier that day—back to when you had looked him dead in the eye and shattered his confidence in one fell swoop.

“are you even listening?” your sharp voice snapped him back to reality.

he blinked, realizing he had been spacing out. “w-what were you saying again?”

“i said i don’t want to be your girlfriend,” you repeated, the words hitting him like a ton of bricks.

his eyes widened in shock. “huh? i mean, why?” he blurted out, completely dumbfounded.

you stared at him in disbelief. “what the fuck do you mean, why?”

“like, uh... why?” he repeated, sounding even more clueless.

you sighed, exasperated. “why? well, who asks someone to be their girlfriend like they’re asking about the weather?!” you hissed, lowering your voice to avoid drawing attention from the other students.

yeonjun scratched the back of his neck in defeat, letting out an awkward chuckle. “so… no?”

“didn’t i just say that?” you retorted, raising an eyebrow.

before yeonjun could attempt to salvage the situation, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. you grabbed your things and stood up. “i’m going to my next class. i’ll just see you around.”

yeonjun watched you walk away, his mind reeling. see you around? even after blatantly rejecting him, you still expected to see him around? he took a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment, and then smiled to himself.

later that day, back in soobin’s living room, yeonjun was ready to reveal his latest revelation.

“dude, i have a new theory...” yeonjun began, his eyes sparkling with renewed determination.

another round of groans filled the room, this time louder and more exaggerated.

“have you lost your mind? you were just crying earlier, saying, ‘fuck, she doesn’t like me, dude, i think i’m gonna die,’ and now you’re yapping again about some new theory?” beomgyu said, rubbing his eyes.

“dude, you can practically publish a book about your theories at this point,” soobin added, not even trying to hide his exasperation.

“this is the last time, i promise!” yeonjun said, holding up his hands in a gesture of sincerity that none of them believed for a second.

the four of them released a collective sigh, clearly not convinced. “say it,” hueningkai said, gesturing for yeonjun to continue.

“well, uh... i think she likes me... BUT! but, she’s in denial,” yeonjun announced, looking immensely proud of himself.

there was a brief, heavy silence before soobin broke it with a sigh so deep it sounded like it came from his soul. “god... i feel sorry for you, dude. to be honest.”

“that’s not impossible,” beomgyu chimed in, and everyone turned to look at him, surprised that he was actually supporting yeonjun’s theory. but then, with a wicked grin, he added, “that is... if she hasn’t lost her mind yet.”

soobin didn’t hesitate to smack beomgyu upside the head. “we’re being honest here, dumbass.”

“i am telling the truth,” beomgyu protested, rubbing the back of his head.

before yeonjun could dive further into his theory, taehyun, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. “give it time.”

“huh?” yeonjun blinked, caught off guard.

“i said give it time,” taehyun repeated, his voice calm and steady. “you don’t have any reason to rush things.”

“yeah, thought so,” soobin agreed, nodding. “besides, if you keep pushing, you might just push her away for good.”

yeonjun sighed, flopping down onto the couch between taehyun and hueningkai. “you guys might be right... but what if i’m right too?”

“well, then maybe—maybe—we’ll help you plan your wedding,” beomgyu teased, barely holding back a laugh.

“yeah, and i’ll be the best man,” hueningkai added, grinning.

“only if i get to be the one who objects during the ceremony,” soobin quipped.

“you’re all assholes,” yeonjun groaned, but he couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips. as frustrating as it was, he knew they were right. he would just have to be patient and see how things played out.

but that didn’t mean he was giving up on you—not by a long shot.

you tried to distance yourself from yeonjun a bit. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him—on the contrary, you found him charming in a strange, infuriating way. but the attention, the teasing, and the constant questioning were too much for you. you weren’t used to this kind of pressure, and you weren’t sure how to deal with it.

but yeonjun was nothing if not persistent. he continued to show up at your study sessions, continued to find reasons to hang out with you, and continued to wear down your defenses with that disarming smile of his.

“you can’t avoid me forever, you know,” he said one day as you both sat in the library, working on your thesis. he had that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes, the one that told you he was up to something.

“i’m not avoiding you,” you replied, keeping your eyes on your notes. “i’m just… busy.”

“busy avoiding me,” he teased, leaning a little closer to you.

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you still agreed to be my partner,” he pointed out, his grin widening.

“only because you didn’t give me a choice,” you shot back, though there was no real heat in your words.

“true,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. “but i think you’re starting to like me.”

you scoffed, trying to hide the way your heart skipped a beat at his words. “in your dreams, yeonjun.”

he just laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to acknowledge. “maybe,” he said, shrugging as if it didn’t matter, though the playful gleam in his eyes told a different story. “but hey, dreams have a way of becoming reality.”

you tried to focus on your work, but yeonjun’s presence was impossible to ignore. the way he leaned back in his chair, casually confident, as if he knew exactly how much he was getting under your skin. it was infuriating, and yet there was something oddly comforting about his persistence.

“seriously, though,” he continued after a moment, his tone softening just a fraction. “i get that you’re not used to all this—hanging out with a new group, getting teased and stuff. but you don’t have to deal with it alone. i’m here, you know?”

his words caught you off guard, and you glanced up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his expression. “why do you care so much?” you asked, genuinely curious.

yeonjun’s smile faltered for just a second before he recovered, leaning forward slightly. “because… i like you, y/n. and not just as my thesis partner. i know i can be a lot to handle, but i want to get to know you better. and i want you to know me too.”

your heart skipped another beat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. yeonjun had always been confident, maybe even a little cocky, but there was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you now, something that made you realize that his persistence wasn’t just a game to him.

“yeonjun…” you began, but he cut you off, shaking his head with a small, rueful smile.

“you don’t have to say anything now,” he said quickly. “i just wanted you to know where i stand. we can keep working on this thesis and see where things go, no pressure.”

you nodded, your thoughts a jumbled mess. yeonjun’s confession had thrown you off balance, and suddenly the lines between friendship, partnership, and something more seemed a lot blurrier than they had before.

“okay,” you finally said, your voice quieter than you intended. “but… let’s just take it slow, okay?”

yeonjun’s smile returned, softer this time, and he reached out to gently tap your hand with his fingers. “slow is good,” he agreed. “i’m not going anywhere.”

you found yourself smiling back, a warmth spreading through you that you couldn’t quite explain. maybe yeonjun was right—maybe you were starting to like him, just a little bit. and perhaps, that wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

one night, you woke up to the sound of low murmurs around you. disoriented, you looked around, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. you were both working on your thesis and were at your house, but you could hear the faint clinking of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. you groggily got up, stretching your arms and shuffling towards the source of the sound.

in the kitchen, you found yeonjun and your mom busy cooking. the scene was oddly comforting: your mom, apron on, and yeonjun, looking surprisingly at ease in your home. the smell of sinigang filled the air, and yeonjun was animatedly talking about how much he loved your mom’s cooking, from her turon, empanadas to her banana cue and kamote cue. and even though it was scorching hot outside, he hadn’t let your mom’s ginataang bilo-bilo go to waste.

“hey,” you said, breaking their conversation. “what’s going on here?”

“oh, you’re just in time,” your mom said with a smile. “the rice is almost ready. yeonjun helped me with dinner tonight.”

yeonjun turned to you with a grin. “yeah, your mom is an amazing cook. i may have talked her ear off about how much i love her food.”

“i swear, it’s like your mom has magic in her hands,” he said dramatically. “i couldn’t let any of it go to waste, especially having a taste of that sinigang we just cooked? god, it was so good, i nearly cried.”

you raised an eyebrow, walking over to the stove and peering into the pot. “so, you’ve been raving about my mom’s cooking to her face, and now you’re here in our kitchen, making yourself at home?”

yeonjun, trying to look innocent, shrugged. “i figured, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. and if you’re going to be in my life, you might as well get used to my mom’s cooking too.”

your mom was beaming with pride. “he’s been a delight to have around. and besides, it’s nice to have someone appreciate my cooking so much.”

you glanced at yeonjun, you laughed, shaking your head. “i see you’re getting along just fine.”

“getting along? we’re practically best friends now,” yeonjun said, pretending to clink imaginary glasses with your mom. “we’ve bonded over food and shared laughs. next thing you know, we’ll be singing karaoke together.”

your mom chuckled. “oh, don’t tempt him. he’s already asked me if he could join us for karaoke night.”

“see?” yeonjun said, giving you a thumbs-up. “i’m fitting in perfectly.”

the conversation shifted to the final touches of the meal. your mom had whipped up a feast that included sinigang, a side of crispy lumpia, and yeonjun’s personal favorite, turon. as you all sat down to eat, yeonjun began a somewhat clumsy yet endearing attempt at conversation.

“hey,” he started, his mouth full of lumpia, “what’s your favorite dish your mom makes?”

“that’s a tough one,” you said, laughing. “i’d have to say the empanadas. they’re a family favorite.”

“good choice,” yeonjun said, nodding vigorously. “i was about to say the same thing. but honestly, everything your mom makes is amazing.”

“flattery will get you everywhere,” your mom said with a wink.

yeonjun looked at you, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “so, now that i’ve been properly introduced to your mom’s cooking, are you finally going to admit that i’m not so bad after all?”

“admit?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “you’re lucky my mom likes you. that’s the only reason you’re not getting kicked out right now.”

yeonjun feigned a dramatic gasp. “kicked out? but i’ve just started my career as your unofficial sous-chef!”

your mom laughed heartily, adding, “don’t worry, yeonjun. i’m quite fond of you already. just don’t let it go to your head.” you laughed, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. the evening had turned into a delightful mess of food, laughter, and unexpected bond your mom and yeonjun made.

after dinner, you decided to walk yeonjun to the nearest jeep terminal. the evening air was cooler, and the streetlights cast a soft glow over the two of you. as you walked, yeonjun suddenly brought up a topic that made you stop in your tracks.

“your mom approved,” he said, smirking.

“approved of what?” you asked, confused.

“of me courting you,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“what the f—” you began, but yeonjun quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

“can you please calm down? you’re unbelievable,” he said, chuckling.

“why the heck did you tell my mom you’re courting me?” you asked once he finally removed his hand.

“what’s wrong with that? i’m courting you, right?” he asked with a grin.

“huh? you’re not!” you said, punctuating your words with playful punches to his arm. yeonjun let out a low grunt but seemed amused by your reaction.

“i am!” he insisted.

“you’ve never even asked me!” you said, continuing your playful assault on his arm. yeonjun stopped and stood still, causing you to cease your punches.

“hmm, so i didn’t made it obvious?” he asked, suddenly holding your face in his hands.

“then let me say it,” he started, and you felt a surge of panic as he held your face. “i will court you,” he finished, pinching your cheek lightly.

“no! i never said yes in the first place,” you protested.

“did i ask? i just informed you that i’m courting you from now on, even though i’ve been courting you since the day you rejected me,” he said, his voice dropping as he mentioned the rejection.

you rolled your eyes, and yeonjun gave a thumbs-up as he smiled widely. you turned around to see your mom giving a thumbs-up too, jumping with excitement as if she had won the lottery.

“mom!” you exclaimed, realizing that this was probably what they were discussing in the kitchen earlier.

“don’t worry, y/n,” your mom called out from the porch, waving enthusiastically. “i’m rooting for you two!”

you groaned, feeling a mix of embarrassment and amusement. yeonjun just laughed, clearly enjoying the chaos he had created.

“welcome to my life,” you muttered, shaking your head.

yeonjun’s grin widened. “oh, i’m just getting started.”

the days following yeonjun’s bold declaration of courtship were nothing short of a whirlwind. it seemed he had taken it upon himself to transform every mundane moment into an adventure. it wasn’t just about grand gestures; it was the little, unexpected things that made you laugh and sometimes question your sanity.

one bright afternoon, yeonjun showed up at your doorstep, not with flowers or a typical date night setup, but with an enormous picnic basket. his outfit was equally extravagant—he wore a sun hat with a wide brim and aviator sunglasses that made him look like he was preparing for a high-fashion photoshoot rather than a simple outing.

“ready for the most extravagant picnic of your life?” he announced with a flourish, spreading out a checkered blanket on the grass with a dramatic sweep that looked like he was setting up a stage for a grand performance.

you couldn’t help but laugh as you glanced from the basket to yeonjun’s over-the-top attire. “yeonjun, you do realize we’re just having a picnic, not hosting a royal banquet, right?”

“every moment with you is royal,” he said, winking with such confidence you almost believed him. “now, let’s see what we have here.” he began to unpack the basket with exaggerated care, revealing a mountain of turon, banana cue, and a sizable container of ginataang bilo-bilo.

“are you trying to win me over with food?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as he proudly displayed his assortment.

“well, it worked on your mom,” he said, taking a bite of a banana cue and looking excessively pleased with himself. “and i’m pretty sure it’ll work on you too.”

the picnic was a scene of endless laughter, food, and minor disasters. yeonjun’s attempts to be suave occasionally faltered, like when he accidentally knocked over the entire drink cooler, drenching both of you in iced tea. the sight of yeonjun covered in sticky tea, flailing his arms while trying to salvage the situation, had you both in stitches.

“i guess this is what they call a splash hit,” you joked, trying to contain your laughter as yeonjun attempted to mop up the mess with a napkin.

“oh, very punny,” yeonjun said, shaking his head with a grin. “i suppose it’s just another chapter in our epic picnic saga.”

as the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the park, yeonjun decided it was time for a “romantic stroll.” in reality, it was more of a clumsy run as he attempted to balance a massive bouquet of flowers—now slightly wilted from the iced tea incident—while dodging every stray dog and jogger that crossed your path.

“is it just me,” yeonjun panted between breaths, “or does the park look extra magical tonight?”

“that’s just the sun setting,” you replied, trying to hold back a grin. “but if you want to call it magic, go ahead.”

“magic it is,” he declared with a dramatic twirl, nearly colliding with a nearby lamp post. “now, let’s talk about our future. i’m thinking we’ll have a castle, a thousand turon makers, and a personal chef who specializes in banana cue.”

“sounds like a dream of you,” you said, laughing. “but let’s start with a dinner that doesn’t involve tripping over every piece of furniture.”

yeonjun’s face lit up with a mix of pride and amusement. “you know, i think we make a pretty good team. i bring the over-the-top gestures, and you keep me grounded. it’s a perfect balance.”

that night, as you both lay on the grass, gazing up at the stars while trying to impress you with his knowledge of constellations—although he kept mixing up orion with the big dipper. yeonjun continued his enthusiastic commentary on how great it was to finally be able to court you. he regaled you with exaggerated stories of his friends’ reactions to his new mission. apparently, his friends were both amazed and amused, with yeonjun’s tales of triumphs and mishaps becoming legendary in their group chats.

“so, i told beomgyu about the picnic,” yeonjun said, propping himself up on one elbow, “and he literally laughed so hard he fell off the bed.”

“sounds like quite the reaction,” you said, trying not to laugh.

“oh, it was,” yeonjun continued, “and then kai started teasing me about how i’m ‘the king of courtship disasters,’ which i thought was pretty unfair. if you ask me.” he looks at you. “i’m pretty sure that’s not how everyone measures their courtship skills,” you teased.

“well, i’m setting a new standard,” yeonjun said confidently. “besides, i’ve been studying the stars. did you know that orion’s belt is actually just three stars in a row?”

“i thought you were going to impress me with constellations,” you said with a smile.

“i’m working on it,” yeonjun said, squinting up at the sky. “but i think the real magic is in how we manage to turn every moment into an adventure.”

you lay there, enjoying the cool night air and the warmth of yeonjun’s presence beside you. his words were as comforting as they were amusing, and you couldn’t deny the charm of his quirky, earnest attempts to make every moment memorable.

“well,” you said, nudging him playfully, “as long as you keep being this ridiculously endearing, i think i’ll manage.”

yeonjun looked at you with a grin that could light up the night. “deal. and who knows? maybe next time, i’ll serenade you under the stars. though, i can’t guarantee i won’t mix up orion with the big dipper again.”

“oh, i’m counting on it,” you said, laughing.

a few weeks into the courtship, yeonjun had a sleepover at soobin’s place with a few of his friends—soobin, beomgyu, taehyun, and hueningkai. they had gathered for a casual hangout, but yeonjun’s excitement about your dates led him to share every detail with his friends. unfortunately, they had already fallen asleep on the living room floor, exhausted from a long day of activities.

yeonjun was sprawled on the couch, practically bursting with energy as he talked animatedly to the empty room. “guys, you won’t believe how amazing the date was last night. we went to this new restaurant, and the food—oh my god, the food was incredible.”

soobin was sprawled on the floor, snoring softly, while beomgyu had drifted off with his head resting on a pile of pillows. taehyun was half-asleep, his head bobbing with each word yeonjun said. hueningkai had passed out with a bag of chips still clutched in his hand.

“so, we tried this new dessert,” yeonjun continued, oblivious to his friends’ slumber. “it was this amazing fusion of all our favorite flavors. and then we had this huge debate about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. i mean, can you believe it?”

yeonjun’s voice was a mixture of excitement and nostalgia as he recounted the smallest details. “and she laughed so hard when i tried to impress her with my ‘impressive’ dance moves. totally epic fail, but she loved it anyway.”

a few muffled groans and sighs from his friends indicated they were barely hanging on, but yeonjun was undeterred. “oh, and we ended the night stargazing one time. i tried so hard to be all poetic, but she kept pointing out how i mixed up orion’s belt with the big dipper. it was so funny.”

taehyun, now fully awake but still half-lying on the floor, mumbled, “yeonjun, we get it. your date was amazing. can we sleep now?”

“wait, there’s more!” yeonjun said, waving his arms excitedly. “we’re planning to make a scrapbook together, and i’m going to put glitter on everything. glitter explosion!”

“yeonjun,” soobin grumbled from the floor, “we’re tired. save the stories for later.”

“fine, fine,” yeonjun said with a dramatic sigh, finally noticing the exhaustion in his friends’ voices. “but you guys are going to love the next date. it’s going to be legendary.”

one evening, yeonjun decided that you both needed a “romantic” movie night. his idea of romance, however, involved setting up an elaborate indoor “cinema” with fairy lights, bean bags, and a selection of snacks that could rival a small buffet. he even made you wear matching pajamas—complete with cartoon characters.

“it’s all about the experience,” yeonjun said, adjusting the lights with an overly serious expression. “you can’t have a romantic movie night without proper ambiance.”

“you know,” you said, looking around at the whimsical setup, “this is actually kind of cute. but don’t think you can get away with making me wear these ridiculous pajamas all the time.”

“hey, don’t knock the pajamas until you’ve experienced the full cozy effect,” yeonjun said, tossing you a bag of popcorn. “plus, it’s for a good cause—our future movie nights together.” smiling sweetly at you.

the movie night itself was a comedy of errors. yeonjun spent more time trying to fix the projector than actually watching the movie, and you both ended up in fits of laughter over his failed attempts to mimic romantic movie lines. at one point, yeonjun dramatically declared, “you had me at hello,” before tripping over the bean bag and crashing into a pile of pillows.

“romance is clearly not your strong suit,” you teased, helping him up.

“hey, I’m working on it,” yeonjun said, brushing himself off with a grin. “next time, i promise a movie night with less physical comedy and more actual romance.”

the following weekend, yeonjun took you to a local farmer’s market. it was a simple date, but one that turned into a playful adventure as you navigated the stalls, sampling everything from artisanal cheeses to homemade jams. yeonjun insisted on buying you a “mystery fruit” he claimed was the “best thing ever.”

“i’m telling you, it’s going to be life-changing,” yeonjun said, holding up a spiky, oddly shaped fruit with a look of triumph.

“it looks like something from an alien planet,” you said, eyeing it warily. “but if you say so.”

the mystery fruit turned out to be surprisingly delicious, and the experience left you both in high spirits. you ended up buying a basket of fresh produce, and yeonjun’s enthusiasm for the “find” made the outing memorable.

“we should definitely do this again,” yeonjun said as you walked back to the car, his cheeks flushed from the sun and excitement.

“i’ll hold you to that,” you said, smiling.

as the weeks went by, yeonjun’s courtship efforts continued to be a mix of grand and simple gestures. he surprised you with handwritten letters, silly serenades, and spontaneous dance parties in the living room. his attempts at poetry were endearing, if not always successful, but you appreciated the effort behind each one.

the culmination of yeonjun’s courtship efforts came on a quiet evening when you both decided to work on a scrapbook together. yeonjun had been relentless about starting the project, claiming it was the perfect way to document your journey together. you reluctantly agreed, and soon found yourself surrounded by colorful papers, stickers, and glitter.

yeonjun was deeply focused on arranging photos and decorations, his brows furrowed in concentration as he pouted his lips in a way that made him look more like a kid than a confident courtier.

“hey,” you said, unable to resist the adorable sight, “you look really cute right now.”

yeonjun glanced up, caught off guard by your compliment. “cute? i’m working hard here, you know.”

“i know,” you said, leaning closer and feeling a sudden impulse. you reached out and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, your lips brushing against his skin.

“hey! you can’t kiss me, i’m not your boyfriend,” yeonjun said, his voice a mix of surprise and mock indignation as he covered his face with his hands.

“then be,” you said, smiling as you wiped a stray piece of glitter from his cheek.

“then be? then be?! what the hell?!” yeonjun shouted, his face turning a shade redder.

“can you please act normal for once?” you asked, trying to hide your amusement.

“are you?” yeonjun said, peeking out from behind his hands with a faux serious expression. “because right now, you’re acting like you just walked out of a rom-com.”

“i figure we are going there soon, so might as well make it official now,” you said, biting your lower lip as you hide your smile.

“so... you? and me?” yeonjun said, exaggeratingly pointing to you and him while making a heart shape with his hands.

“you know,” you said, tapping the scrapbook page with your finger for emphasis. “ask me to be your girlfriend. stop dancing around it and just say it.”

yeonjun’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he looked away, pretending to be very interested in a piece of glitter stuck to his hand. “are you sure you want that?” he asked, his voice slightly muffled as he avoided eye contact.

“yeonjun,” you said, reaching out to gently turn his face towards you. “it’s ridiculous to keep pretending like you don’t want to be with me. you’ve already shown me how much you care.”

“well,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “if you’re really sure about this, then...”

“yes,” you said, smiling warmly. “i’m sure.”

yeonjun’s expression shifted from nervousness to a wide, goofy grin. “okay then,” he said, leaning in with exaggerated seriousness. “will you be my girlfriend?”

you laughed, shaking your head at his over-the-top delivery. “yes, yeonjun,” you said, reaching out to tap him on the nose. “i will.”

“thank goodness,” he said with a sigh of relief, playfully collapsing onto the table as if he’d just won a great battle. “i was starting to think I’d have to spend the rest of my life trying to win you over. anyway, can you say it again?” he added putting his hand into a heart.

“you are so corny, i hate you,” you said, rolling your eyes. you leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before adding, “you heard me.”

yeonjun’s eyes widened, and he lowered his head, covering his mouth as if he’d just had his first kiss stolen. “i hate you so much!” he said, his irritation tinged with a hint of affection as he tried to maintain his pout.

as you both sat there, surrounded by scraps of paper and glitter, you realized that yeonjun’s courtship had turned into something truly special. it wasn’t about grand gestures or elaborate plans; it was the simple, everyday moments that made it all the more memorable. "yeonjun," you called softly, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

"hmm?" he replied, not taking his gaze off the scrapbook page he was working on. his concentration was almost endearing, his brow furrowed as he meticulously placed another sticker.

"thank you," you said, your voice sincere and filled with warmth.

yeonjun finally looked up, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of surprise and curiosity. “for what?” he asked, setting down the glue stick and wiping his hands on a napkin.

“for everything,” you said, gesturing to the scattered scraps of paper and glitter that surrounded you both. “for all the effort you put into making this special, for being so... you.”

his cheeks flushed slightly, and he gave you a shy, almost sheepish smile. “well, i guess i can’t take all the credit,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “you make it easy to want to do these things.”

“that’s really sweet,” you said, leaning over to give him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “i’m glad you’re the one doing this with me.”

yeonjun’s eyes widened, and he looked away, pretending to be intensely interested in a stray piece of glitter on the table. “uh, it’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to hide his blush. “just... don’t expect me to start being all mushy every time.”

“don’t worry,” you said, chuckling softly. “i’ll make sure to keep you on your toes.” you said as you watch him trying his best to focus on what he’s working on as he fights the urge to scream at how happy he is at this moment.

yeonjun leaned back in his chair, a nostalgic grin spreading across his face as he reminisced with his friends. they were gathered in the homecoming hall, a place filled with echoes of their past, and the atmosphere was brimming with laughter and memories.

“honestly,” yeonjun began, looking at the five guys sitting around him, “it’s kind of hilarious to think back on that time i was crying over her rejection, when in the end i ended up having her.”

the others chuckled, their laughter mingling with the soft clinking of glasses and the hum of the crowd. “yeah, i remember,” beomgyu said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “you were a mess and all, with you endless love theories.”

taehyun raised an eyebrow, “and now you’re here, about to get married. who knew?”

yeonjun shook his head, still grinning. “i know, right? all those dramatic moments and tears, and here we are. i didn’t just win her over to be my girlfriend. no, we’re engaged now.”

he looked up as you walked into the room, calling out to him with a bright smile. “hon!”

the room fell silent, and yeonjun’s gaze softened as he saw you approach. you greeted him with a soft kiss on the cheek, and he could feel the warmth of your love. “hey,” he said, his voice full of affection. “have you talk to them already?” yeonjun asks before planting soft kiss on your cheeks.

“guys, gross. please stop,” beomgyu said, rolling his eyes.

“as if you weren’t the literally on everyone’s lips during college, dude,” taehyun remarked, a playful grin on his face.

beomgyu laughed, shaking his head. “can you please stop reminding me of my youth?”

“they’re still the same,” you whispered to yeonjun, a teasing smile on your lips. “so are we.”

yeonjun leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your bare shoulder. “i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“get a room,” hueningkai interjected with a grin, shaking his head at the display of affection.

you laughed, your heart full of joy as you turned to soobin. “where is she?” you asked, your curiosity evident.

soobin’s smile grew, his eyes reflecting a fondness that spoke of countless shared memories. “she’s just finishing up in the restroom. she’ll be here soon.” his gaze softened as he remembered how this had always been your way of asking about his girlfriend during college. the smile on his face hinted at the significant moments they’d shared—the moments that had changed everything for him.

“soobinie~” a sweet voice called out. soobin turned, his face lighting up as he met the gaze that had once captured his heart during those college days.

gyo's note: finally! a full of fluff yeonjun one !! phew ˖⁺‧₊˚ ૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა i figured yeonjun def suits this kind of trope, i just see him as a dude who would be literally head over heels when he likes someone !! and i vv much loved writing this because it makes me feel like rewatching my favorite filipino romcoms from when i was a kid !! (づᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡ anyway, feel free to talk to me and request! i will have my first request posted on thursday, yayyyy ✧｡٩(ˊᗜˋ )و✧*｡

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Text

Let's Put On a Show

Part 2 of 4 from The Countdown series.

The above image does not indicate the reader's physical appearance.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: As his undercover life begins, Derek finds that the biggest enemies he has to battle are past memories and resurfaced feelings.

Word Count: 7500-ish

Warning(s): 18+ NSFW CONTENT (minors dni); penetrative sex; vaginal fingering; alcohol consumption; derek might be a little bit of an asshole in certain parts; talks and/or implications of illegal trades (narcotics, firearms, explosives), human trafficking, past trauma (child abuse), reproduction, infertility (mentioned), coercion into sex (not by Derek), attempted rape (not by Derek), degrading nicknames (cocksle*ve—not by Derek), noncon strangulation during sex (not by Derek), physical violence, physical torture, violence against a child; pls lmk if I missed anything

Author's Note: this one is..... y'know what, I'll let you judge by yourself. pls be mindful of the warnings I've listed above. DON'T READ IF YOU THINK ANY OF IT MIGHT BE TRIGGERING. another special mention to @avis-writeshq for beta and for bearing with me 🥺💞 with that said, don't forget to LIKE+COMMENT+REBLOG <3

Criminal Minds Masterlist

It was a couple of weeks later when Temples called for another meeting at the factory.

"Everything's set and good to go," Temples informed almost as soon as you had stepped into the threshold. "Derek Miller will be reporting for duty in two weeks."

Temples handed you the tablet containing a digital file filled with documents about Derek Miller's life. You were instantly reminded by the memory of receiving a similar looking tablet, scrolling through the endless documents of the persona you had been living with for the past few years.

"How do you wanna initiate contact?" you asked as you handed the tablet to Derek.

"I called in some favors from Bastoni. He's gonna vouch for Miller," Temples explained. "I trust you can handle the rest?"

You confirmed with a solid nod.

"It's happening," Derek muttered.

"You ready?"

Derek's eyes flew towards yours. "As I'll ever be."

"Good." A gentle breeze blew against your face, as if preparing along for the inevitable storm ahead. "Let's put on a show, shall we?"

"Derek."

Wrapped in your breathy moan, Derek's name was a world-class symphony. The soft expanse of skin glided against his own in a dance that he had known all too well. Above him, you were a goddess reincarnated, writhing for pleasure and setting flames to every nerve-ending in Derek's body.

"Derek, fuck. I'm gonna—"

"I know. I've got you, sweetheart." Derek's arms circled your waist, pulling you close until your chest was pressed against his. "Feel so good around me. Shit."

It took less than a minute for Derek to finally feel you coming undone around him, the sensation of your pulsating walls triggering his own release. Derek kept rutting up against you even as he was emptying himself into the condom, drawing tiny circles on your bundle of nerves and holding you tighter as your body spasmed some more from overstimulation.

Derek's lips brushed a feather-light touch on your cheek, tasting salt where sweat and tears of pleasure had mixed. You got up from his lap as soon as you regained the first bit of strength in your limbs, pretending that your legs weren't on the verge of breaking like sticks as you teetered towards the bathroom.

He was just returning from the kitchen with a bottle of water when you finally re-emerged.

"Let's put on a show," you suggested, now clad in your wrinkled shirt that was buttoned merely halfway.

Derek handed you the bottle before settling back under the duvet. "What do you wanna watch?"

"I don't know. What's on?"

You found your way back easily to Derek's side. It was muscle memory by now, the way you gravitated towards him and the way he'd welcome you easily into his arms. The bedroom lit up in the presence of your giddy smile when you saw one of your favorite Law & Order episodes playing on the TV.

"Hey," Derek spoke after ten full minutes of silence. "A buddy of mine is getting married next week."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"That's great."

"I wanted to see if you'd come with me."

The offer caught you off guard. Derek knew it from the way you tossed your attention so fast from the courtroom scene on the TV and towards him.

"Come with you to the wedding? As... your date?"

"Do you want to come with me as anything else?" Derek deadpanned.

An intangible weight shifted in the atmosphere when you decreased the TV volume all the way to zero. Derek didn't like the way you were examining him at that moment, as if you were trying to find a crack in an otherwise immaculate ornament.

"I thought you were fine with our arrangement the way it is."

"We've never even discussed it. You avoid me every time I try to bring it up."

Your chest swelled around a shaky breath. Derek never thought a few inches could feel like an entire ocean until he stared at the distance between where the two of you were sitting against the headboard.

"You don't wanna do this with me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

There was no mitigating the hostility in Derek's voice. He thought it must have been an act of fortification when you opted to leave the bed and began pacing the room, stepping further and further from him until the previous ocean finally metamorphosed into a freaking planet.

"I can't be somebody's girlfriend, Derek."

He ignored the resonant snap in his chest. "Can't or won't?"

"I won't because I can't. It's complicated. You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me." Derek rose from the bed, erasing the distance that had stolen you away from him. His chest felt thirty pounds heavier as he stood in front of you. "Help me understand. I want to understand. Please."

You sank on the edge of the mattress, with Derek kneeling before you as though prepared to launch himself forward if ever you would need him to. His hand hovered above your knee, dithering and unsure, petrified over the possibility of you pushing his hand—or worse, him—away.

"I've never had anyone in my life aside from my brother. Nobody before you." Derek perched his hand on your thigh at your revelation. "I don't know how to be with someone. How to care for them. How to love. I've been alone most of my life, and I work better that way. I only know how to be alone."

"That's not true," Derek denied abruptly. "You know how to be with me."

"That's different."

"How is that different?"

"Because you haven't needed anything else but sex from me up until now."

Derek faltered in shock.

You didn't think you ever saw him looking so wounded.

"That's what you think? That I've only ever used you for sex?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Sounds like that's exactly what you meant to say to me." Nothing could be more fragile than the voice that roused when he next spoke, "Is it something I said? Did I do something to make you believe that sex was all I wanted from you?"

"No, Derek. Of course not. Dammit, I told you I didn't mean it like that." You ran an agitated hand over your face before continuing, "We've never spent time with each other that didn't start or end with our clothes off. That's how it's always been between us, and I'm okay with that. I'm good at sex. That's why everything has worked out so far. But a relationship?" You laughed sardonically. "I don't know how to do it. What will happen when you need me to be there for you, and I'm constantly letting you down? What will happen when you start needing more than just my body, only to realize there's nothing left inside of me to offer?"

The air thickened around your throat.

You peered up to see whether or not Derek had caught that last bit of slip-up in your extempore speech. You hadn't meant to divulge it. You hadn't meant to articulate your fear so plainly in front of him like that.

What will happen when you start needing more than just my body, only to realize there's nothing left inside of me to offer?

Slowly, as though trying not to startle an easily-spooked rabbit, Derek took a seat right beside you on the bed. The scent of sandalwood attacked your senses instantaneously.

"You have so much to offer than you realize, sweetheart," Derek murmured. "You're every good thing in my life, can't you see?"

You shook your head in rebuttal. "That's the thing. I'm not good, Derek. You can't see it now, but you will eventually."

"Sweetheart—"

"I'm gonna hurt you, you know?" You looked up at him through the pooled tears in your waterlines. Derek decided right then and there that he despised the sight of you crying in front of him. "Maybe not today. Maybe it won't be tomorrow either. But someday, somehow, I will do something—or say something stupid, because that's what I do—and you'll hate me for it."

"That's fucking impossible."

"You don't believe I'm capable of hurting you?"

"No." His hand flew to your face, dragging a comforting thumb on the anxious lines that had embellished your forehead. "I don't believe I'm capable of hating you."

You loathed being at the depot in the middle of the day, especially underneath a scorching summer like this one. It was an uncommon occurrence that you found yourself there while the sun was still out. After all, whatever business was going down in that place called for discreet logistics, and since secrecy was a nighttime affair, you rarely visited the container yard during the day.

Alas, a big package coming in from Bolivia was supposed to arrive one week ago but found itself shipped elsewhere instead. This unexpected hiccup had drowned you in a copious amount of paperwork for days, followed by a substantial scoop into The Big Boss' personal vault. The delay also meant you had to do everything in broad daylight to catch up with the tight schedule on your hands. Kreczmar wasn't happy about the whole ordeal, and frankly, neither were you.

As you stood with your back against one of the disposed wooden crates, you kept an eagle eye on the men unloading the contents of the Bolivia containers out to the yard. There were three in total: two carrying the hottest illegal substances on the market, and another one filled with smuggled explosives and weaponry.

The men were pushing off the last crate from the second container when a figure plopped next to your right.

"We need to talk," Derek announced without so much as a greeting.

"Hello to you too."

You could feel his eyes on the side of your face as he spoke, "I'm stopping by your room later tonight."

"You can't. I'm expecting Kreczmar tonight."

Derek's stare was sweltering on your cheek. Even after the two months he had spent under, Derek couldn't warm up to the idea of your arrangement with Aleksander Kreczmar. In fact, he constantly scorned it at any given chance.

"Fine. I'll stop by after you're done."

"What is this about, Derek?"

"Not now, sweetheart. Later."

You watched as Derek walked away towards the other men, leaving you yearning alone over his retreating back.

In the span of two months, Derek had managed to fit in better than you initially thought he would. Miller the Stiller, they had dubbed him. Derek told you it was because he sent any room into a standstill due to his domineering presence—to which you had rolled your eyes blatantly to his face—but chatter from the back rooms told you that the nickname came from his good looks that, apparently, never failed to render anyone speechless.

As it turned out, Kreczmar's crooks were just as vulnerable to Derek Morgan's charm as the average women were. You didn't blame them. You, too, had fallen victim to that same charm many years ago.

Derek moved with authority among the sea of men, molding into the perfect puzzle piece to slot himself in between Kreczmar's thugs. You watched every inch of his movement like a hawk, stopping only when a rugged voice slashed through your pristine reverie.

"Ghost." Jan Borowicz stood to your left with the same signature frown across his graying eyebrows. His eyes, as always, were uncharacteristically warm for a man of his repute. "Something you should see."

You followed the middle-aged man to the back of another container, where you saw a figure crouching down with a hunched head between their knees. You didn't need to see their face to know who it was.

"Paolo." The 13 year-old looked up at the sound of his name. You rushed over to his side, your hands going straight to the fresh cuts and bruises smeared on the boy's face. "What happened?"

Paolo's eyes flared with fear. The answer you searched for eventually came from Jan, "I saw him with Ralph Grader earlier."

You recognized the name almost immediately. Grader was one of the new recruits from a few weeks ago; a petty thief who worked for one of Kreczmar's smaller branches before being transferred to the headquarters. You hadn't bothered memorizing anything else about the bastard—not even his face—because you thought he would be smart enough to realize his insignificance to never cause any trouble.

Well, you definitely got that one wrong.

"Is that true? Did Grader do this to you?"

Paolo never granted you a verbal answer, but the way he recoiled at the name told you everything you needed to know.

You turned to Jan with a newfound ire in your chest. "Where's Grader now?"

"Unloading with the rest of 'em."

You helped Paolo to his feet before marching over towards where the men were working. Most of them stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw you approaching, Jan and Paolo hot on your heels.

"Grader." Your voice was ice as it traveled throughout the group. "Ralph fucking Grader."

A scuffle at the back of the crowd caught your attention. It was a few seconds later when two of the men appeared in front of you, holding up a scruffy man—whom you could only assume as Grader—between the both of them. They shoved Grader on his knees, earning a rather loud hiss from the bastard.

"Let's not waste anyone's time and get straight to the point, shall we? You know why you're here." You reached for the gun in your holster, pulling it out before aiming the barrel to Grader's forehead. "You're gonna give me the answer I need before I finish counting to three, and I may have just enough mercy to let you keep your life."

"What—"

"One."

"Wait. Wait. Wait a second—"

"Two."

"I don't—"

"Th—"

"Okay! Okay! Fine, I confess!" Grader exclaimed. "It was me. I did that to him."

"You're not fucking stupid. Tell everyone what you did."

Grader trembled like a leaf before your eyes. You could read the forgiveness he sought with his gaze—no doubt similar to the one Paolo had flashed to him before he charged at the boy—and your chest glutted with relish to see the scoundrel grovel at your feet.

"I did it. I beat up Paolo," Grader confessed.

Tension fulminated in the air. Everybody was holding their breath as they waited to see what you would do next: show compassion or assign Ralph Grader an even worse fate than death?

The moment you lowered your gun from Grader's forehead, everyone knew that you had chosen the latter.

"You know what to do," you declared towards the two men—Vin and Al—who had brought Grader to you.

The two of them each grabbed Grader's arm before dragging him away from the scene. You didn't cast a single look towards Grader's direction even when he started pleading for his life.

"You can hold down the fort on your own, yeah?" you asked Jan, to which he gave you a single agreeing nod. "Good. Everyone else, back to work."

The crowd dispersed instantly upon your command.

As you were taking the first step to your leave, your eyes caught Derek's dark ones from the distance. Without another word, you turned around and followed Ralph Grader's drag marks on the ground, shunning the weight of Derek's stare that seemed to bore a hole straight through your skull.

"You okay?" Derek murmured in your ear.

Your answer was a stern nod—one that would satisfy any other person—but Derek Morgan was never any other person to you.

The man didn't hesitate to bid a quick goodbye to the host—claiming that there was an important errand the two of you needed to take care of, despite your incessant complaints—before pulling you along to the lot where his car was parked.

"Are you gonna tell me what's going on?" Derek questioned as soon as the car left the vicinity of Jennifer Jareau's house.

"Nothing's going on."

"You underestimate my ability to read you like an open book."

In the corner of his eye, Derek could see you staring out the window as if the city billboards were playing a non-stop rerun of your favorite movie. JJ's house shrinked in the rearview mirror with every yard the car sped through, and Derek thought he would suffocate in the silence if it continued any further.

He pulled up next to a curb as soon as he saw an empty spot he could park his car in. Confusion pranced in your eyes when Derek grabbed your hands in his.

"Talk to me."

"About what you said to JJ—" you evaded Derek's eyes, choosing to glout at your connected hands instead, "—did you mean that?"

Derek's forehead creased. He tried to pinpoint exactly which conversation with JJ you might have meant.

"About having a baby," you continued before Derek could ask you to clarify.

Understanding dawned on him in an instant.

JJ and Will had called for a merry celebration with the baby shower for their second child. All of Derek's dearest friends were in attendance, and he couldn't think of a more perfect opportunity to have you officially introduced to the team that had been his found family for the past several years. Some of them had met you in passing before, but this was the first occasion Derek could finally introduce you as his.

It was a joyous occasion, and in the midst of it all—after Derek had wished JJ a safe delivery and healthiness for both the mother and the baby—his blonde teammate had eyed the two of you cheekily and blurted out, "You guys are next, right?"

To which he replied without thinking, "Hopefully."

It was a lapse of judgment on his part, but Derek never expected the repercussions to be afflicting you this greatly.

"Hey, look at me." Derek's knuckles brushed against your cheekbone until your eyes leveled with him once more. "Don't take it to heart. I was making lighthearted conversations. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Maybe." You pushed his hand away from your face, and Derek nearly groaned at the loss of contact. "But it's still something you want to do, right? Maybe not now, but later down the road?"

"Sweetheart." Derek tried to coax you into looking at him again, sighing heavily when you refused. "Do you not want kids?"

Derek's question crashed like a sinking ship in the air; slow and painful, catastrophic and dreadful. The firm grip he had on your knee would usually suffice as a life vest, but at that moment, the touch was nothing more than a stack of stones weighing you down even further.

"It's not about what I want."

"What do you—"

"I can't have kids."

There was no concealing the shock on Derek's face.

Out of everything he expected you to say, nothing could have prepared him for that admission. He didn't know how to respond to such a vulnerable confession. The way you were sitting right then, though—pressed against the door with your knees pointed away from Derek, as if you were an impala cornered by a lion—told him that any physical gesture he could present wouldn't be responded in kind.

"How long have you known?" was what Derek ended up asking after a while had passed.

"I think I've always known. It's not that I... I don't... There's no medical reason behind it. It's just something I can't do, Derek. Do you understand?"

He did.

Derek didn't think he could understand anyone better than he understood you at that moment.

As he watched your fingers trifle with the hem of your top, the abstract doodles in his head rearranged into a much clearer picture. He knew, then, that your incapability to have children wasn't caused by any physical factor. You simply wouldn't permit yourself to believe that you were capable of doing it.

It didn't take a genius to understand that this incapability was nothing less than a fear in disguise, stemmed from the years of abuse you had to endure as a child.

Derek hated to be profiling you during times like this, but the skills he had harvested from years on the job didn't exactly come with an off button. He had seen cases like this; where constant disappointment from loved ones gradually evolved into disappointment of one's self. Where the threat of projecting that same disappointment on others often led to drastic measures being taken.

In this case, the fear of turning out like your parents led you to believe that you didn't deserve to be a mother.

And that couldn't be further from the truth.

When Derek tried telling you this, you automatically shut down his attempt.

"Please, Derek. I know what you're trying to say. And I know that technically, you're right. But I just... I can't, okay? This isn't up for debate. I'll never be able to have kids. Not now. Not ever."

The finality of your words was indisputable.

Derek appraised you in its aftermath.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Not now. Not ever," Derek emphasized, grabbing your hand to circle a soothing touch on top of it. "You're in charge here, baby. We won't do anything you don't wanna do. You should know by now that I'd follow you blindly anywhere you lead me to."

"But I thought... Don't you want kids?"

"I want you more." Derek kissed you as though he was foregrounding his promise. The residual apprehension in your body evaporated at the first taste of his lips. "You're all I need, sweetheart."

The sight of your smile awakened something in Derek's chest. As he basked in your luminance, Derek could feel the shape of three little words consolidating inside of him. They frolicked around as if waiting to be said out loud, but Derek bit his tongue before they could slip past his lips.

The three little words could wait.

After all, there would be other opportunities for him to confess his undying love to you.

There were two rapid knocks on the door, a pause, a knock, a pause, and then another knock.

Derek Morgan was at the door.

It was already the third time Derek had ever been in the comfort of your bedroom, but it was the first time he stepped in there so soon after you had just finished your appointment with Kreczmar. The evidence of your time with the crime lord was still palpable in the unkempt state of your bed. Derek never thought the sight of ruffled bed sheets could feel like hot coals being shoved forcefully down his throat, and yet here he was.

"Drink?" you suddenly asked from your place by the liquor table.

There was no chance for him to respond before you thrusted a glass of whiskey in his face.

"It's not poisoned," you quipped after seeing the reluctance in his eyes. "I just got it as a gift. Old Fitzgerald. Good stuff."

Derek's jaw hardened the moment you mentioned the word gift. He didn't need further clarification to guess from whom "the gift" had originated.

"No, thanks." He put down the glass back on the table. "If you don't mind."

"Suit yourself."

The robe you were wearing spread out the second you sat down on the ottoman bench, revealing the naked length of your legs. Derek used to memorize every inch of those limbs better than he could memorize the lines on his palm.

"You said you wanted to talk?" you questioned.

Derek watched as you leaned back against the foot of the bed. Your navel was nearly exposed to him from this new position, but you crossed one of your legs over the other before you could flash him a peek. With the golden drink in your hand, you were the definition of a sinful temptation.

Derek buried his hands in his pockets and looked away. "I'm hearing chatter about a shipment coming in a couple of weeks. It's not listed in any of the existing manifests."

"Have you checked with the ones still awaiting approval?"

"I did. None in there as well."

"Hm. Interesting." You took a sip of your drink, savoring the burn while you lost yourself in contemplation. "Is the intel legit?"

"I heard it from Lascano."

You hummed thoughtfully at the name.

Mateo Lascano was one of Kreczmar's trusted right-hand men, though you'd argue that his loyalty resembled that of a guard dog just to see the man tremble with rage. You never liked the guy, and fortunately for you, the feeling was very much reciprocated. He harbored a nasty gash on his left cheek courtesy of your pocket knife from that one time he had challenged you to a spar after questioning your competence in front of Aleksander Kreczmar himself.

The taste of victory from that day was still sweet on your tongue, even underneath the bitter note from the whiskey you were nursing.

"He's an asshole, but his words do warrant some substance." You rose from your seat and headed for the liquor table to top up your glass. "I'll see what I can find out about it from Kreczmar."

"You think that's wise?"

"Why wouldn't that be?"

"He may get suspicious."

"I have my own ways with him. Trust me."

Derek's fists clenched against his sides.

You should have known by now that Derek's objections were never a matter of trust. He might still be leery about trusting you with his heart, but there was no question whether or not he would trust you with his life. Derek knew you would dive in front of a bullet for him if given the chance; a sentiment he both shared and requited in kind.

He did, however, have a strong disapproval of your so-called ways of handling things with Kreczmar.

"What's your plan, sweetheart? Fuck the bastard until you loosen his tongue?"

The drink in your hand stopped swirling. The glass fell with a loud thump when you slammed it back on the table.

"What the fuck is your problem?!"

"My problem?" Derek gritted his teeth. He stalked forward as though you were a convenient prey, blocking every possible exit until the only respite you were left with was the wall against your back. "You want to know what my problem is?!"

The next thing you knew, Derek had gripped your robe in his hand, yanking on the collar until you let out a reflexive shriek.

"This—" Derek began, his voice suddenly taking on a more gentle edge, reiterated by the touch he brushed against your neck, "—is what my fucking problem is."

You didn't need to look in the mirror to know what Derek was seeing in his eyes; to know what kind of marks you would glimpse if a reflection of you were to spawn in the middle of the room at that exact same second. After all, those bruises on your neck were pretty much identical to the ones that had tarnished your skin so many times prior. They always appeared in the ugliest splotches of blue, red, and purple, encircling your throat in the shape of Aleksander Kreczmar's hand.

You flung Derek's hands away before securing the robe tightly around yourself. There was a reason you liked that robe. It covered up your dirty little secret from any prying eyes.

Except for Derek's.

"How long has it been going on?" he asked.

You couldn't answer him.

What would Derek do if he found out that Kreczmar had been hurting you that way for as long as you had known the man?

The first time it happened, you hadn't seen it coming. Kreczmar left you gasping for air in the middle of your bed as soon as he was done, paying not even the slightest attention to the fact that you had nearly lost your life in his hand.

After numerous times going through the same thing, though, you eventually managed to learn how to ensure your survival by the time Kreczmar was done having his way with you.

It was a fucked up situation in an equally fucked up life. You made your peace with it a long time ago. This was merely an occupational hazard that you needed to learn to live with.

When you told Derek as much, the man proceeded to glower.

"Occupational hazard? That's all your life amounts to you? A fucking occupational hazard?!"

"What the hell do you want me to do here, Derek?"

"To stop being stupid, that's what."

"Stupid?" That single word was a blade through your chest. Red, fiery anger filled the gaping wound it left behind with every second that ticked by. "You're calling me stupid for doing my fucking job?!"

"It's not your job to offer yourself up as a punching bag for that bastard!"

"Yes, it is! My God, Derek. Of course, it is. You and I both know that it's part of the job description. It's a sacrifice I have to make for the greater good."

"And I'm telling you right now that you don't need to make that sacrifice. Nothing is worth putting yourself up as a sacrifice." Derek's voice fizzled to a low murmur, leaking desperation where his previously intact vigor had been punctured. "There are other ways to do this, sweetheart. I can help you find another way."

"Another way? You don't think I've thought of that after more than four years in this hell hole? Do you seriously think that letting myself be used by Kreczmar, keeping my life and my body at his disposal, was my first fucking choice?!"

Derek couldn't hide the physical reaction he had at your words. He couldn't help it. The thought of what Kreczmar had done and could do to you pained him more than what any type of injury could inflict on his body.

The man saw your knees buckle, but he could only watch you fall onto the edge of the bed after you smacked his hands away when he sprung forward to help. Derek swallowed down the bile in his throat. In front of him, your shoulders drooped as if Atlas himself had bequeathed his burden for you to bear.

"Miller the Stiller. That's what they call you, right? Tell me, who came up with the name?"

Derek frowned at the unexpected question. "Why?"

"Just fucking answer me, Derek."

"It was McCloskey."

"Justin McCloskey?" The scoff that fell from your lips echoed in the heated room. McCloskey was a drunk and a pervert who constantly begged to have his mouth taped shut. It didn't surprise you to find out that he had been the one responsible for Derek's nickname. After all, assigning nicknames to other people seemed to be one of his favorite downtime activities. "Do you know the story of how he lost the tip of his pinky finger?"

Derek could hear the blood surging in his veins. "Did you do that to him?"

"I did. Right after he tried to rape me." You rose from the bed languidly, as if you didn't just drop a bomb that obliterated every piece of Derek's whole sanity, and headed back to the liquor table to snatch the drink you left behind. "He wasn't the first. Others had groped me, sneaked into my room when I wasn't looking. McCloskey just happened to pull the short end of the stick. He used to make everyone call me a cocksleeve, did you know that?"

Of course not. Derek had no way of knowing it, and you knew that. Still, you let the question hang in the air out of pure spite.

"Those same people who worship your ass now, Derek, are the same dickheads who used to treat me like garbage. What I did to McCloskey didn't even hinder them. It wasn't until Kreczmar implied his claim over me did those bastards finally leave me alone." You ambled back towards the bed, now with a much-needed drink in hand, before sitting back down on the soft mattress. "I know you think that I brought myself into this situation, and you're right, I did. But only because it was the only way for me to survive."

A temporary silence settled in the room. Derek allowed it to simmer because he didn't know what to say.

"We're stuck in the same game but in two completely different playing fields, Derek." You smiled ruefully. "I didn't have the luxury to pick my own battles as you obviously do. If being known as The Big Boss' side piece was the only way for me to get my foot in the door, then I was completely willing to do it. It took me four years to garner the same amount of respect that you've gained after being here for only two months. So don't talk to me about finding another way, because whatever it is you can think of, I've done it. Believe me."

With everything off your chest, you gulped the remaining drink in the glass, savoring the burn it ignited all the way down your throat. The pressure solidifying in your ribcage traveled to your head at an agonizing pace. You closed your eyes to brace yourself for the incoming headache.

It felt like hours later, when in reality, it must have been mere minutes when you eventually heard the first shuffle of feet. Even without opening your eyes, Derek's presence was incontestable as it circled your bedroom. Your ears followed his movements until he stopped by the bed, directly in front of where you were sitting.

Gentle fingers hooked themselves beneath your chin, tugging upward and urging your eyes to open once more.

"What are you doing?" you asked as Derek sat down next to you. In his hand was a bottle of ointment that you had previously stored on the vanity table.

"May I?" Derek asked as his other hand reached forward, skimming above the neckline of your robe without actually touching. "Please."

Two frail nods from you were the only confirmation that Derek needed.

His touches were butterfly wings against your skin. They fluttered until the left sleeve of your robe pooled around your elbow, revealing your shoulder and decolletage, dangerously close to where the curves of your breast began.

When he rubbed the fragrant ointment on the odious bruises specking your neck, your chest deflated in an exhale.

"Does it hurt?" Derek asked.

You shook your head no.

In fact, Derek's ministrations were the exact antonym of pain. He handled you as if you were porcelain, infused with fragility and in need of utmost care. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had touched you that way—so tender and loving, without an ounce of malevolent intention buried underneath—but you were willing to bet that it had also been Derek who gave you those last few soft touches before you were rammed into this belligerent life.

You were lost in the rapture, only realizing that a moment had gone by when Derek finally shook you back to reality.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Your responding sigh was music to his ears. "Don't stop."

Who was he to deny the plea of a reincarnated goddess, anyway?

Instead of withdrawing after he was done applying the ointment, Derek opted to lean in, kissing every patch of contusion and condemning the abysmal memories tied to it away. A flicker started in the pit of your stomach for each one of his kisses, but once Derek slid further down your body, those same flickers turned into fireworks that erupted in tandem with the drag of his lips.

"Derek—"

He shushed you against your collarbone. "I'm sorry for what I said, sweetheart. Let me make it up to you. Let me make you feel good, hm?"

You were barely able to nod before he lurched forward and tugged your robe further down.

You couldn't quell your moan when Derek's mouth latched onto your nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud until you felt it standing taut. Your other breast became the object of his fingers' attention as they toyed with it, squeezing and massaging before his mouth decided to switch places between the two.

After he successfully transformed you into a panting mess, Derek pulled back and captured your lips in a desperate kiss.

It thrilled you, peculiarly, to find that Derek's lips tasted just the same as you had remembered it. Not only were his kisses the same, but the way he handled your body like a fiddle was also the same. You lost yourself deeper in the abyss of Derek Morgan, surprised to find yourself volunteering to dive deeper into him even when you knew consequences would be waiting for you once you decided to resurface.

With a heaving breath of his own, Derek murmured against your lips, "Tell me to stop."

"No."

"Good." He pressed you back until you were lying on the bed. "Because I'm gonna worship you exactly like you deserve."

At the first stroke of his thumb over your clit, you couldn't do anything else but mewl.

Derek teased your bundle of nerves while keeping loyal attention to the gasps you let out and the tics in your countenance. Your hands gripped his biceps tighter with each swipe across your clit, feeling the arousal pool bigger in your belly, but also noting it from the obscene sound of your wetness on Derek's fingers.

When he started to prod around your entrance, you couldn't contain the loud moan from spilling past your lips.

"Fucking hell, sweetheart," Derek muttered once two of his fingers were sheathed inside. "So warm and wet. This all for me?"

"All for you, Derek. Please, please, I need you to—"

"Hm? What do you need, baby?"

"Move." As if emphasizing your plea, you ground yourself down against his hand. "Please, need you to move."

With a kiss on your temple, Derek pulled his fingers back out—marveling the way your wetness coated them—before plunging the digits back inside and curling them against the spot that knocked the breath straight out of your lungs.

It didn't take long for Derek to find his rhythm, pushing you further to the brink of exultation with encouraging whispers against your cheek. You clawed at his face to pull him closer—as though his whole body wasn't caging you in already—and despairingly seized his lips in a kiss. Derek welcomed you with a groan, swallowing the needy sounds you made as his sensual ministratration picked up its pace.

"So good... Derek, please—"

"I know, sweetheart." Derek's fingers inside you never relented. He angled his hand slightly without ever leaving your heat, letting the heel of his palm smother your clit until you cried out in delight. "Can feel you squeezing me. Shit. Gripping me like a vice, baby. You'd feel so good around my cock."

Derek's words triggered another loud moan from deep within your throat. The thought of him driving into you only spurred on your arousal. This newfound excitement wasn't lost on Derek. He could tell that you were close from the way your walls were drawing him deeper.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna feel you cum for me."

"Oh my God, Derek—"

"I know, baby. That's it. Gonna make you feel so good. Let it go, sweetheart."

The coil in your belly finally snapped. It jostled you into the pit of pleasure where your whole body convulsed in euphoria. Derek embraced you through it all, mollifying you with his voice, touch, and kisses, never once stopping until you were finally back down on earth.

"Where are you going?" you rushed out almost forlornly, raking the hem of Derek's shirt when he started to get up from the bed.

He smiled at your clingy display. "I'll be right back. Promise."

Derek returned less than two minutes later with a small towel in grasp. He cleaned you up carefully, his touch never a breadth too wide or an inch too deep as the towel swept over the skin of your inner thighs.

You extended your palm when he was done, and Derek accepted it happily with a kiss.

"It doesn't hurt," you said once you saw him fixated on your scraped knuckles. "You should see the other guy."

Derek brushed entirely past your lame attempt at a joke. "I did. I saw Vin and Al carrying Grader to the med ward."

"I know you don't approve of my methods—"

"If anyone had it coming, it's Grader. Especially after what he did to Paolo." The mental image of the boy's blackened eye made you shudder. "You care a lot about that kid."

It was an understatement rather than anything else. Everyone within ten feet could see how you regularly doted on the boy. Derek knew it was because Paolo reminded you of yourself; shoved into a life of violence too early in his youth, stripped of the childhood he so profoundly deserved. You never even hesitated to adopt the protector mantle for the boy, because in a lot of ways, it was something you wished someone would have done for you when you were a child.

"I know you used to have reservations about kids—" Derek continued, "—but I've seen you with Paolo. You're good with him."

"Right. Because I'm such a champ when it comes to being a good influence, right?" You rolled your eyes, skittering to sit on the edge of the bed and wrapping your body with the robe still on your back. Derek followed you silently. "I threatened a man at gunpoint in front of his eyes, Derek. You can't possibly say that witnessing something like that isn't gonna fuck him up for the rest of his life."

"Maybe not. But you're making this life less grueling for him, and that's something."

"I don't like where this conversation is going."

You stood up from the bed then, walking towards the windows of your room and popping them open to let the evening breeze in. When you spun around to face Derek on the bed, you had your arms folded defensively across your chest.

You were hiding again.

Two steps forward and three steps back.

That seemed to be the only thing Derek was capable of when it came to you.

"The incoming shipment," you began nonchalantly, as though Derek hadn't just made you orgasm until you could see stars mere minutes earlier. "What's your theory?"

Derek inhaled a deep breath before answering, "Gotta be something valuable if he goes to such lengths to keep it lowkey, even to the point of hiding it from you."

"More valuable than bombs and machine guns?"

"Precisely. Something that would make him a lot more money than those two combined."

"What? Like missiles?" Your eyes widened when realization bloomed in your head. "People. That's what you're insinuating, isn't it?"

"It makes sense, and it explains why you've never caught wind of any trafficking activity even to this day."

"They can't be using the depot, then. Too many witnesses. They must have another facility where they detain those people."

"Somewhere secluded but easy to control," Derek agreed. "And most likely, you know where it is."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"Kreczmar profiles as a classic egotistical sociopath. It's not in his nature to do things quietly. He would want to boast, and you're the person in his life he'd want to do it to the most." Derek got up from the bed once he finished his statement. His stature somehow grew more officious as he stood in the middle of your room. "Think, sweetheart. You know the answer. You've had it all these years. You just didn't know that it was right there in front of your eyes."

Derek gauged every micro-expression zipping past your face. The wrinkle on the bridge of your nose was concentration, and the frenetic darting of your pupils was your mind flipping through the pages of memories about Aleksander Kreczmar. When your earnest gaze found his, Derek knew that it must have been the light bulb appearing right above your head.

"His guesthouse."

"Kreczmar has a guesthouse?"

"Well, a guesthouse might be a bit underwhelming. It's a freaking mansion that stands in the middle of at least two acres of land. He'd host parties there. Entertain important overseas guests or clients anytime they come by. He'd take me to the woods at the back of the property sometimes, and then he'd... well—" You cleared your throat and looked away. Derek didn't need to hear the rest of that sentence to know what you meant. "Secluded but easy to control. That's what you said, right?"

"Yeah." There was no guarantee that the guesthouse would end up being the place you were looking for, but Derek still deemed it necessary to pursue the lead. "We need to check the place out asap. Think you can set something up as a cover?"

"Don't need to, 'cause it must be your lucky day, Mister." The corner of your lips slanted upward, giving Derek a front row view of your pretty smile. He had to fight off the urge to march over there and taste the smile directly on his lips. "Kreczmar's throwing an exclusive party there in three weeks."

"He is?"

You nodded. "And it looks like you just got yourself an invitation."

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