#more for me to clear my mind then anything

[bardicindignation]

okay okay okay so bear with me here, and keep in mind that a. I haven't watched the bad batch or anything Star Wars has put out since the Mandalorian season 2 and b. It's been a minute since I've listened to WTNV and I've only listened up to ep 146.

So! here we go!

I stand by my casting for Padme, Anakin, and Qui-Gon, but I actually think that Obi-Wan isn't the Steve Carlsberg of this AU-he's the Man in the Tan Jacket. I've read at least one WTNV fic where the Man in the Tan jacket is Cecil's brother that he has no memory of and I know this god jossed by later canon but I really liked the theory! But in this, he's not Padme's "brother" he's Anakin's, and Anakin is the one who has some kind of (Palpatine fuckery induced) memory issues. (more on this later)

I spent some time debating with myself over who would be the Tamika Flynn equivalent, was kinda waffling between Sabine and Ahsoka but then! It occured to me that, hey, Ahsoka's kind of close to Padme in canon, and she did the whole like wandering journey thing...So Ahsoka gets to be Dana Cardinal! (without the becoming the mayor part. I don't think that would suit Ahsoka tbh.) So, Sabine is our preteen explosive revolutionary, joined by Ezra. For no reason other than vibes, Dooku is definitely The Woman From Italy Serenno. (...Or maybe that's Mother Talzin and she's the Woman From Dathomir idk). Hmmm...alternatively, Dooku is Marcus Vanston and the Erika's are Force Ghosts. Yeah, Mother Talzin can be the Woman from Dathomir

The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In Your Home was kinda tricky, and frankly I feel like the Star Wars character who most matches in terms of Gremlin Vibes is Yoda, so we've got the Little Green Troll Who Secretly Lives In Your Home. (Look. It would be so funny to put Yoda in a mayoral race.)

Cut Lawquane, you know, the farmer.

As for Steve Carslberg, the honor goes to Sola Naberrie, towards whom Padme has an animosity two parts concealment of Sola's relationship to Padme Amidala (an open secret) and one part sibling aggravation.

I was super close to having Maul be Lauren (evil, talks too much) but then I thought it would be more fun if he, Savage, and Feral all make up a literally three-headed dragon.

As far as Clones go, I think that they were secretly created by SepCorp (Seperatist/Strex Corp). The Coruscant Guard is the Sherrif's secret police, Rex and the 501st are planted with the scientists, etc. SepCorp thought that it would be much harder to have this infiltration, but the town immediately accepted clones existing as Normal (I mean, look, they all know that Amidala is like at least 4 people)(with some exceptions).

The whole chips thing doesn't come into play until the SepCorp takeover, and are pretty quickly jail broken by Sabine & co with help from Anakin, and (virtually, Ahsoka.) Echo is Fey/The WZZZ numbers station (or the ARC station) and also helps free the rest of the clones from the mind control.

Now, as for Obi-Wan/Man in the Tan Jacket, Anakin, and what the fuck is Palpatine doing, anyway?

Anakin caught the attention of Palpatine (aka the secret CEO of SepCorp) shortly after he began attending college. Palpatine proceeded to spend Anakin's undergrad grooming him to be his right hand in Strex Corp. (Maybe he was posing as a professor or smth). This plan got messed up when, upon starting his graduate program, Anakin ended up roommates with Obi-Wan Kenobi (who had recently left Nighvale after his worst fight with Qui-Gon yet.) Obi-Wan (unfortunately for Palpatine) forms a fast and strong (if sometimes contentious) bond with Anakin, which results in Anakin changing his focus for his graduate degree to something less what Palpatine wants and more what Anakin is interested in.

Palpatine is Not Amused. When it becomes clear that Anakin is no longer interested in filling the job that Palpatine has so generously created or him in Strexcorp he decides that something Must Be Done. He enacts some kind of curse or smth on Obi-Wan, removing all memories anyone has of him, and making it very nearly impossible to form new ones, beyond that he's a Man in the Tan Jacket.

Infuriatingly, this does not immediately result in Anakin running into the loving arms of SepCorp, but Palpatine is able to pull some strings and get him into the research team destined for...oooh! Starvale, of course the town is Starvale!

But back to Padme! I feel like this is a great vehicle for Padme to be every bit as insane abt Anakin as he is about her bc...let's be real. She absolutely is; just because she seems to be more chill by comparison doesn't make this actually true. Padme is not the Normal One. There is no Normal One.

Also, given the handmaidens, this has interesting implications for the double incident, huh? Like, do Padme and the handmaidens take the doubles arriving in stride, or do they feel at a deep, instinctive level that these are Not The Same Thing? Does the eldritch station management actually know the difference between Padme!Amidala or, say, Sabe!Amidala?

Now, I think that Palpatine is also Leonard Burton, and was Padme's radio mentor. With all the concerning implications involved etc. He somehow still doesn't really get how Starvale works. (Maybe a faliure to keep Padme under his thumb prompted him to search outside Starvale and ultimately find Anakin). Dex runs the Moonlite All-Nite Diner.

Not sure who the Apache Tracker would be...unless he's Quinlan Vos deep undercover (Obi-Wan, possibly the only person who knows that it's him, will never let him live this down) and fakes his death. idk tho, this one's tricky.

Mace Windu is the mayor. This man deals with So Much Shit in canon, he deserves the chance to be a little unhinged, and to have mayoral powers, as a treat. Plus, he's canonically a theater performer. He could do the drama, he Has The Range.

And uhhh, yeah! that's what I've got!

(there's another version of this set in the GFFA where a Supposed To Be Dead Padme is doing like, a rebel broadcast, Obi-Wan is Old Woman Josie, and Anakin/Vader is both Carlos and Steve Carlsberg. "And Vader came around to kill a bunch of people with his stupid, perfect, shiny helmet, and his sexystupid murderwalk. He's the worst person to ever exist and I defintiely, definitely, hate him. It's just and only hatred.")(And yes, this is partially inspired by hometown blues)

Natalie Portman wearing a Panasonic FM Stereo Headset RF-60 from the 1970s 

[hopefulidiocy]

nsfw salesman?🫣

Bitch

Salesman x Fem!Y/N

Warnings: rough sex, gun play, p in v, foreplay (f receiving), SMUT, not kind, but he feels something for her.

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼💼

Red dress. Heels.

The text came through when you were sat in your lecture, scribbling down notes you weren’t going to look at later but knew you had to do something to get him out of your mind. For the past few months you had been playing a tedious game with a nameless man, someone who had been following you for months before he turned up at your flat with four words…

“Let’s play a game.”

And you, being intrigued in this handsome man, agreed to play with him. Despite your gut telling you to run. He came every Monday an hour after your classes without fail. And without fail, you were undone every time he left.

The text came as a surprise, leaving you breathless as the class came to an end. He left no time, no place to meet, just what to wear. How the fuck could you find a red dress within the depths of your sweaters and baggy jeans? Dresses don’t suit you. It’s not a part of you. At least that’s what you thought. He might’ve seen something in those twinkling hours above your naked body, maybe he thought you’d look good in a dress. So, the port of call is to call your best friend.

It took a few tries to get through to her but she finally answered.

“What?” Her gruff voice came through your phone, she had definitely just woken up.

“Have you got a red dress?” Both of you rarely said hello to each other.

“Yes. Why?”

“Okay I’m coming over.” You hung up, tucking your phone into your back pocket and taking off down the green campus, onto the busy Main Street and basically becoming Usain Bolt towards your best friend’s apartment.

No questions asked, she thrusted the red dress in your arms and oh my god it was fucking short. It wouldn’t even cover your ass but you had the short straw here, you couldn’t simply bargain for a longer red dress because no one owns one these days. Your best friend is a hoarder so it’s usually more than likely she will have something.

Evening was drawing in, you had blown out your hair knowing it would be completely lax by the time you arrived back at your own apartment; the dress definitely didn’t cover anything, you would look better going out naked; the heels were too high and it took a few rounds of your bedroom to walk like a normal person but at least your make up was astonishingly. You were waiting by the door, anxiously tapping your toes against the wood. The knock came, once and then twice before you answered. He took one swift look at you, with that shit eating smirk of his.

“Beautiful.” And then he led you to a place with dim lighting and dark candles.

“I need you to remember something for me y/n.” He leaned forward, his elbows pressed into the table as his eyes zoned in on you, darkening with every passing second. “You’re my bitch, okay?” Goosebumps raised on the back of your neck as you squeezed your thighs together, his mouth was slightly puckered as you attempted to find the words that roamed freely in your mind. He cleared his throat, looking marginally disappointed at your silence. You simply couldn’t find any words to say. His arm reached for his briefcase, pulling it up to his lap as his hand completely disappeared inside of it. You watched him, mouth dry and throat closed as he threw a black gun on the table. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he examined you with one elbow on the table and his fingers touching his chin, his eyebrows slightly raised.

“Is-Is it loaded?” You managed to muster. He broke out into a mocking laugh, it shook the room. You leaned back in the chair, trying to breathe as his snake-like moves suddenly came closer. His broad hand wrapped around the gun as he pressed the cold brass against your temple, your breath hitched and died in your throat as he clicked the revolver. His lips brushed against the side of your neck, his breath hot compared to the cold shivers that were coursing through your body; a shock sent straight to your abdomen.

“Would you like to find out?” His voice was so low it was barely audible as his lips sent waves down your spine, he wasn’t kissing you, just simply grazing his lips against your neck, teasing you until your hands clenched in your lap.

“Answer me.” His wrist wrapped around your locks and pulling harshly, the gun still taped to your temple.

The sane side of you wanted to say no, that side wanted to push him away and point the gun at the centre of his head. But you knew you’d be seeing stars before day break, before the moon fully made itself present you’d be shaking under his touch, and you loved it. Every second you loved the way he made you feel, how his fingers played you like a toy.

“Yes.” You whispered, a small tear forming at the corner of your eye. He chuckled darkly before kicking your legs apart, suddenly revealed to him in the candlelight. He trailed the gun down from your temple to your chin as he got onto his knees for you, the only time he ever did, and hitched your dress to your hips. He tutted, shaking his head.

“Why are you wearing these?” His index finger poked at your black underwear, the only thing saving your dignity and the way he poked at you sent a harsh gasp through your body and out your mouth. He narrowed his eyes before smirking, with one hand he yanked your underwear until it was dangling over your heels. Devastatingly slowly the gun traced over your collarbone, to your breast bone, to your naval and finally onto your clitoris. The cold metal stung and the thrill of danger had you weak, it was unlike anything you felt before even from him; he clicked the gun and you shrieked despite yourself even though this gun was obviously not loaded. His gun was left on the space between your legs on the seat as his hand grazed over your inner thigh before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, similar but better than earlier in the car. He watched you through his dark eyelashes as you slowly lolled your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle touch to your sensitivity; he licked his lips as he sweetly kissed you on your pussy before diving in. You clutched on the sides of your chair, moans escaping your throat as you looked towards the ceiling, letting him work his tongue all over you. Black vision spilled in front of you as your body played along with his beautiful music, your vision completely blurred as a cold wave crashed over you, causing your knuckles to go white due to the hard pressure against the chair. You knew you were shrieking, but your body completely detached as he continued using you, your noises far away as if it’s in another room. White noise rushed into your hearing as your body began to tremble, your thighs locking him shut between you as he worked faster and faster on you until you folded into yourself. The cold air hit your aching skin as he removed himself from you, standing to his full height which was imposing even in this environment and then he scooped you up bridal style. It was almost romantic as he threw you against the window for all of the world to see, it was almost beautiful when he ripped your friends dress for the neighbours to enjoy the look of your breasts pressed against the glass. His black leather shoe kicked your feet to separate them.

“Stay there.” He ordered before his shoes grew quieter and quieter. The moments in which you were alone, your body on full show, prepped for him and you knew you were a whore for him, you knew this was going to be your life now. The threat of being killed, the threat of being hurt only turned you on more until you were basically dripping down your thighs. His footsteps became louder and you knew, you just knew, he had a gun in his hand. A different one and you had no idea whether it was loaded or not. The idea made you whine, your abdomen aching for his touch.

“You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He stood back to admire the view of your ass sticking out and the rest of you pressed against the glass. He enjoyed the thought of people watching you becoming undone by his simple touch.

During these times, he rarely removed his suit and today was no different. All he had to do was unzip his pants and his dick was excitedly pointing towards your heat, he lined himself up, a gun against the back of your head unknowing whether it’s loaded or not. He grunted as the tip of him entered your walls, the stretch always shocked you, the thickness was something you had to prepare for but he very rarely allowed the bliss of feeling ready for his cock. A small loan escaped his lips, it was classical, as he entered fully inside of you, allowing himself to fully enjoy the your warmth. You pressed your cheek against the glass, jaw slack as his cock touched every nook and cranny of your cervix; he reached around with his free arm and pressed down on your abdomen as he began to push further inside of you. Whining, you arched your ass towards the ceiling to accommodate his size.

“Look at you.” He snarled, pulling himself out to just the tip to make you beg for it. To make you weak and ache for his cock. And you were. The instant he pulled out almost completely, you felt the cold air and groaned in annoyance, you were empty and all you wanted was to be full of him. You bucked your knees, to try edge his cock in further but he harshly held onto your hips, his thumb digging in so hard you felt the bruise forming. That magical feeling of his breath escaping his mouth as he emerged back inside of you, the relief that settled your heart before he began hammering his hips into you, deeper than you ever felt. The cold glass and the hot feeling of his cock inside of you was such a stunning contradiction, you hoped people could see what this man was making you feel, you squeezed your pussy around him just to hear that musical moan escape his throat again. His tie became undone as he clicked the gun, relishing in you flinching, ducking your head every so slightly but enough for him to notice and laugh.

“You love the threat of being shot, don’t you?” He snapped his hips so deep into you that for a moment you forgot your native language, you forgot the laws of physics as his cock buried itself deep within your womb, readying itself for his lust. You felt the tip of the metal begin trailing your spine as his hips snapped in and out of you, huffing as he brought his fingers towards your clit, circling it in a ferocious manner to bring you quicker to your undoing. Suddenly, he flipped you towards him, he preferred to see your face as you moaned all over his cock, bring your legs to his shoulders so he could grow deeper inside of you. You didn’t even worry about slipping down the window because he had you hard against the glass, there was hardly any space between you and him and the window. His hips came down like a hammer, he wasn’t picking up his pace and instead simply pulled half way out slowly and slammed his hips down, hitting your aching g spot as it threatened let go all over him.

“Please, faster.” You begged, crying almost to let go. His hand clasped around your neck, adding onto his quickening pace. Instead of hammering down onto your quivering body, he began to level up faster, making you cry out in absolute bliss and serenity. His hips slapped quickly onto yours, as he grunted and groaned, hiding them in your neck; he bit down as hard as he could as you let everything go all over him. He knew you had reached your high, but he didn’t stop, instead in one swift movement he picked you up and slammed you into the hard floor. You knew, come daylight, there would be a mark but you would parade it proudly knowing you had become a whore for a man you hardly knew. It was disgusting but somehow it made you hornier as his cock worked you to a pace of his own, something that physics hadn’t yet discovered. The gun was forgotten about, he didn’t want to continue threatening you, instead he wanted you to see stars once again, he wanted to hear your beautiful music as you shrieked over him.

“So good to me.” He grunted. “Your pussy belongs to me, you belong to me.” He wrapped his wrist into the knotted locks of your hair pulling violently that it made your neck completely snap towards the ceiling, making you cry out in pain that was overwhelmed with pleasure. You contracted around him, your toes curling as you unleashed everything onto him; he moaned in delight as he pushed further into you. His large hand grabbed the gun and pointed it at your forehead, you just about saw the barrel, your jaw slack and dumb.

“Look at you, in this pretty dress, getting fucked, being my own personal fuck toy.” He mocked, pounding even harder. You started seeing stars, your eyes rolling back and your throat sore; you let him have his way as you dived into a world of satisfaction, no moans or words could describe this moment between the two of you. “Can you not speak, pretty girl?” He pouted, pulling your hair and rising you roughly so your back was against his chest; your eyes still rolled at the back of your head. His fingers splayed over your exposed throat, your hair sweating as he whispered. “Do you like it when I fuck that tight cunt of yours?” You wanted to scream yes, you wanted the whole world to know that you belonged to him and you loved being used like a useless toy.

“Y-Yes. Yes I do!” You managed to squeak, but he wasn’t happy and clicked the gun in his free hand, making you flinch once again, his hips still bucking at a gods speed. “Yes. I love it when…. When… you fuck me, I love it!” You ended up screaming towards the end, eager to get it out and he chuckled darkly as his movements began falling. Close to his edge, his imprinted himself onto your neck with his mouth and shook with agonising pleasure as he painted your walls. He groaned loudly, pulling out and you simply collapsed onto your hands and knees; a stupid, shaking mess. You managed to look up at him, his eyes were black with pleasure and he smiled sweetly as he saw you curled up by his feet.

“Now tell me, sweet girl, what are you?” He mocked.

“Your bitch.”

[taelophone]

✦ Teach Me ݁˖ ⋆˙⟡ — TA!Luigi Mangione x Reader ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ TWs: Pining . Sexual Tension . No Penetration . Smut . Power Play . Glasses on Luigi lol . Reader is kinda strange . Fingering . Kinda Mean Luigi . Overstimulation . ｡⋆ A/N: Sorry it took me so long I actually wasn't the biggest fan of this work. But I hope you enjoy it!

You could imagine that teaching was a tough job. The grading, the organization, teaching the same material at different levels day after day and hour by hour. Surely, the days would melt together, subjects and responsibilities sticking to each other and creating an unfortunate planning crisis.

That’s where the teaching assistant comes in. 

As you made your way into the lecture hall, you pep-talked your mind to brace yourself for a long, boring, and mentally draining speech that would last over an hour. At least you had some questions written down that you planned to ask Professor Harrison regarding the lesson.

But at least it was your final class today before you could crash into your room.

So when you waltzed into the lecture hall, scanning the room for your professor, you were immediately confronted with the realization that he…wasn’t there. Even when you took your seat, the metal feet of your chair dragged against the dull blue carpet, generating the only sound in the room full of silence.

The clock ticked, that nerve-wracking tick-tock for a whole three minutes. Two minutes left until the lesson started, the red seconds hand gliding across the clock as you thought about leaving. But then in came someone you’d never seen before.

He looked about your age, maybe even a smidge older as he waltzed in through the open doorway, his head tilted upward like he was the biggest in the room.

“Hey, guys. Harrison isn’t here, he had some family stuff to do, but I’ll probably be leading today’s discussion” he said, his strong and sculpted arms peering through the soft fabric of his maroon tee.

It was a conscious effort to not let your jaw clatter down onto the floor like a skeleton. Tall, muscular, incredibly well-kept, and graced with the strongest Italian genes to ever kiss the surface of the twenty-first century. 

“My name’s Luigi, I’m the new teaching assistant for Harrison, and my office hours are from four to seven-thirty.”

He smiled– the cute and content kind that left your heart squeezing with cuteness aggression and induced heart tremors. You stared directly through his eyes the best you could, following him with rapt attention that you seldom gave your real professor.

His voice; was a melancholic and deep hymn of firm knowledge that could mimic years of experience. He was tragically good and articulate with his words, subjects that you didn’t understand the first time untangling themselves in your mind to build clear pathways to the answer. In fact, you didn’t even need to ask the questions you had written down.

When he finished the lecture, gently closing his laptop and sitting atop the professor’s desk, he tapped his pen on the wooden surface repeatedly before turning to the room.

“Any questions? We have like…5 minutes left of class. Leave early, stay put, goof off, anything. As long as you’re not confused.” 

There was no way in hell you were gonna leave without so much as speaking to him. You gathered your things up, leaving your notebook full of questions and doodles down on the table before trotting your way down to where he sat.

“Questions?” He asked, his head tilted to the side slightly as he bit the little push button of his bright blue pen between his plush and pink lips.

“Yeah, sorry, I just need you to explain these to me in a little bit more depth,” you murmured, shooting him a breathy and nervous chuckle before handing him your small notebook.

He hummed, taking the notebook from you graciously before his onyx brown eyes darted across the bulleted questions and the little doodles on the edges of the white-lined paper. He chuckled, eyeing a particular drawing you did of a bunch of hearts and flowers in a vase.

“Pretty drawings, they’re very nice,” he nodded, leaning back to grab his notepad and quickly write down your questions on his own. “Alright, what’d you need help with specifically? What’s confusing you?”

You made up some excuse on just needing it to be explained in more detail, prompting him to pull up a chair next to the cherry-oak desk. You quickly sat down in front of him, listening to him carefully as he essentially re-explained the lesson all over again from start to finish.

“Wow thank you,” you smiled, letting out a particularly girlish laugh as you finished writing down key points you had already written earlier on a clean leaf of paper. “That makes a lot of sense, I was so confused earlier.”

“Glad I could help,” he murmured, returning your giddy and girly grin with a boyish and bright beam of his own. He watched as you swung your backpack strap over your left shoulder and headed out the door, giving you a quaint wave as you did so.

Holy shit. Holy shit. OH MY GOODNESS.

Poor you. Poor, poor you.

He was even cuter up close with his smooth and seemingly flawless skin. A perfectly tanned tone with hints of olive under his complexion. And god, not to mention his nose…it’s faces like that that make you wanna cook and clean all day.

“No, Kat, you’re not listening. He’s perfect, like ten out of ten no flaws,” you said while staring at your vanity, gently applying moisturizer to your face. Kat, on the other end of the FaceTime, only grimaced at you with furrowed brows, the only sliver of her face you could actually see.

“Okay…let’s not sleep with the TA…” she joked, chuckling just out of frame as she propped the camera up and slid on a green spa headband before taking out her contact lenses. “I haven’t met him yet I don’t think. When did he start working for Harrison?”

You paused, ceasing your hand movements across your face as you thought about it for a moment. “I dunno actually. We didn’t make small talk, I just wanted to hear him say anything to me.”

Kathy laughed, glaring at you momentarily with wide eyes and furrowed brows. “Oh you’re filthy,” she giggled, repeating her skincare steps as you finished up yours. You sighed, shaking your head in what should have been a shame if a giddy and amused grin didn’t find shelter on your face.

“Hear me out, I just-“

“No.”

You sighed yet again, heavier and less enthusiastic before picking up the phone again. By now the device had grown hot, your 3-hour-long girl talk proving aggravating to your phone's thinning patience and heat capacity. “Phone’s getting hot, girlie. I’m gonna go lay down and rethink life.” You murmured.

“Alright babes goodnight,” Kathy smiled, leaning forward over her own vanity to hang up the phone.

And with a deep exhale through your nose, you stood up from your stool and climbed into your soft bed. With the comforter up to your ribs and your legs crossed at the ankle, you stared up at the ceiling before letting drowsiness lull you to sleep.

As days went by and Luigi slowly became more and more present in Professor Harrison’s class, you felt yourself spending more time during lessons watching his every move. If you were lucky enough, Luigi would teach a class and then chat and socialize with your classmates.

Days had turned into weeks, and weeks rolled over into months. You had been to pretty much every single office hour, pretending to be behind on certain topics and playing a dangerous game of feigned catch-up just to sit at the desk with Luigi and let him reteach what you already know. At some point it was like child’s play, seeing how long you could dance around the bomb until it blew up into lovelorn smithereens.

And today you planned on it being no different. Front of the room, head straight, and leg-crossed at the ankles while you spaced out on your teaching assistant’s tantalizing hands. Oh, how darling they’d look wrapped around my neck instead, hurling me into oxygen-lacking delirium while he made me cry for being such a bad student. To prevent yourself from being any more provocative than you were already being, you lowered your eyes to the table in front of you.

The conversation around you continued on without you, vowels and consonants linking together in a pained effort to create muffled and static gibberish while you daydreamed about the man four feet in front of you.

“Yeah, no I get that…I don’t even know why I signed up to be a TA sometimes I still have my own things to work on,” he said, fidgeting with the end of his light-blue collared shirt. “I actually have a paper I’m supposed to be working on.”

He must’ve noticed how quiet you were. Your arms folded across your chest as you leaned and slouched all the way back in your chair, maybe the way your eyes were trained onto the table in front of you. But either way, he made his way over.

He tapped on your table, once, and then twice to grab your attention before holding up a thumb and tilting his head to the side. The question was silent, but loud and clear as you nodded your head.

“You okay?”

Upon seeing your nonverbal confirmation, he mirrored your action and made his way back over to Harrison’s desk. The sounds of chatter and rushed packing filled the room, watching as people gravitated toward one another and began preparing to file out one by one.

“Alright guys, have a good rest of your day. If anyone asks you were here the whole period. If you need help or anything or just wanna chat, stick back” he said. 

If you weren’t staring at him so hard, you would have missed it. His eyes flickered over in your direction for a fraction of a second, knocking the wind right out of your lungs.

An invitation. One that you could easily deny or accept without feeling pressured or guilty later. A clever man, he was, something that you caught onto very early into him easing into your days. You learned that he was a computer science engineer, which immediately made sense with the way he detangled the wires in your brain.

Your legs carried you over to the desk before you could even think of a plan, placing yourself before him like he called you with some imaginary whistle.

“I knew you’d notice. Good catch” he beamed, straightening his back a little bit as he leaned his back hips against the edge of the desk. “You seemed spaced today, are you doing okay? You’re usually more…active.”

“Oh yeah I’m okay, I was just a little tired today,” you replied, giving him a reassuring nod. You were lying through your teeth, and a part of you felt like he could possibly sense it with the way he wordlessly stared down at you for a moment before nodding slowly; hesitantly.

“Get some sleep, okay? You can always come to me if you need help or don’t understand something. I’ll try to explain” He nodded, giving you a boyish smile with a light pink dusted on the apples of his cheeks.

“Thanks,” you said, shifting your weight to one leg. “I’ll probably come by during office hours.

I want help reviewing my notes.”

“Nice. I’m gonna be back in here, but I’ll probably come in a bit earlier than four so I can…grade quizzes,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as the realization slowly sunk in.

“Oh, well good luck,” you said, giving him an apologetic smile. 

He nodded, a deep and exasperated sigh reverberating from his lungs as a pained smile crept onto his face. He ran his hands through his coco curls, giving you a thumbs up and watching you exit out the door.

You and Luigi’s relationship, or for better words connection, was strictly professional. You barely saw him outside of the days when he wasn’t assisting in Harrison’s class, and if you did happen to catch glimpses of him on campus he was always preoccupied with something else.

Strictly academic and professional.

Right?

What a lack of judgment. The red hot sin and embarrassment that would crowd Luigi’s face whenever you stood too near. He felt almost dirty in a sense; after all, it wasn’t entirely ethical to crush on your “bosses” students.

But when your eyes honed in on him like the only object in the room, picking him apart piece by piece and ripping away each thread of his clothes with your eyes, it was hard not to get a little warm on the nose. Day by day and piece by piece, he could feel himself getting sidetracked with your memory.

So when he leaned back in his chair, staring down at the papers he had only halfway penetrated with red ink and comments, he thought of you bouncing back into the room with your not-so-secret lies of confusion.

The smooth sound of pen ink gliding across paper filled the room, scribbles of minus three and half credit echoing subtly through the empty classroom. He murmured under his breath as he wrote, flipping back and forth 

between the rubric and the long pages of text as his eyes slowly began to glaze over.

There was fire burning every inch of his body; lustful and jeering in his ears as he did everything in his power to repent against the thoughts of how gorgeous you would look crying on this desk while you panted from overstimulation. The scandal…the pleasure. The taboo of the situation left him with a bitter and tangy taste on the tip of his tongue as he swallowed.

thump-thump-thump-thump

Your shoes patted the cheap carpet halls as you made your way back into the class, locking your eyes onto a hunched-over Luigi with a pen between his pointer and middle finger. Back and forth, he flicked the pen repeatedly as he took deep breaths in a last-ditch effort to self-soothe.

“Hey,” you murmured, placing your bag down next to the desk and your notebook on the opposite end of his stack of papers. “How’s grading going?”

His eyes jetted upwards, locking onto yours with a small smile. “Horrible!” He started with a contrastingly happy grin. “I’ve hated every second of it. How are you doing this afternoon?”

You stifled a chuckle, pulling your mouth down from the shameless smirk that had snuck onto your expression. Dry, dry-humored man.

“I’m doing okay! Been working on my notes. I suck at taking them, I feel like I never know what’s important to write” you mused, flipping through your notebook until the most recent lecture notes came into view.

You peered over the pages, trying to see if you could see your own answers under his inspection. Your eyes darted over the pages, snooping around names and numbers before he slowly shifted his hand to cover the scores. He let out a small huff of a chuckle, clicking his pen closed before setting the stack of papers to the side.

“Did I do okay? You’re giving me anxiety, Mangione” you joked, pulling up a chair in front of the desk.

He covered his mouth, failing to prevent a smile from creeping on his face as he giggled a little. 

Oh fuck.

“You passed, but you’re one of like…five who did by an actual hair. I actually graded yours first cuz I knew you’d be stopping by again. We can go over it now if you want! Unless you wanna do notes first?” He offered, flicking his long and skinny fingers through the many many pieces of paper until he plucked out yours.

You thought about it for a moment, thinking it over in your head. It was kind of hard to focus on anything with him sitting so close…those glossy black-framed glasses sitting just right on his face. And oh my god his slender and large hands—

“Yeah, can we go over the quiz first?” You blurted, leaning to the side of your chair to retrieve your pencil case from the front compartment of your backpack.

“Sure,” he said, placing the quiz in front of you for you to review. 

You looked it over, thanking whatever divine force had your back that day for somehow clearing a path for you to even pass this quiz. You were surprised that some of your answers were even correct, shit, you might as well have said you took the quiz with your eyes closed. That’s how gone you were.

“I’m not gonna lie…the quiz was kind of unfair,” he started, his eyebrows shooting up momentarily in amused disbelief. “I wrote maybe 50 percent of this, so I’ll help you with what I wrote, but I cannot help you on Harrison’s part. Sometimes I think we don’t even speak the same language.”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh before flipping the packet back to the front page and handing it back to him. You knew then and there you were gonna be there for a while, even if your intentions were to just pop by and review fake notes. At least you were spending time together!

He broke everything down piece by piece, watching as you jotted notes down in your spiral notebook and wrote down little tidbits of info along the way. And when he was done, he took a sip of water, leaned forward, and gazed over what you had written in your notebook.

“Huh. Weird, I thought you said you couldn’t take notes?” He chuckled, standing up and walking around the desk to lean over your shoulder. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him; comforting and affectionate like a man raised by gentle hands.

“Two birds with one stone” he chuckled, the sound echoing in the shell of your ear as you fought the urge to squeal and panic like a child denied their lifeline of sugar. “Don’t worry, I’ll still help you go over them.”

“I feel like I did better cuz you watched me take them,” you chuckled, instantly relaxing as he made his way to the long whiteboard, popping open a red marker as he began to jot down the topic, and a few empty bullet points under. 

“So this is how I take notes…excuse my handwriting,” he said, jotting down the main point, key details, and miscellaneous info.

He was so shaky. His hands were like a humbug and his mind was taunting his sanity. Your eyes trailed after him, pausing to linger on a specific feature of his before following him again.

It drove him up a wall. He wasn’t even registering the conversation happening between you two as he gave pointers and red-ink examples.

“Oh I have another question,” you blurted, now leaning against the front of the desk to see the board a little closer. 

“Yeah? What’s up?” He answered, turning around and leaning against the whiteboard.

“What’s your type? You seem like you like smart girls.” 

He paused, putting the cap on the marker before jutting his bottom lip out slightly. He pretended to think about it, processing your bold statement. His heart thumped in his ears, loud and fervent as arteries in his muscles threatened to pop.

He made his way over to the side of the desk, placing his hands down on the oak and leaning forward. He was so close, but oh so far. The once dark and charcoal-brown eyes revealed themselves to be a deep hazel, glimmering with satisfaction and authority.

“Well, I don’t think I have a type per se,” he said, adjusting his readers with the knuckle of his pointer finger. “I just like women with goals and a strong sense of self,” he smiled.

“I have goals,” you murmured, glancing over his features with a newfound feeling of hunger. 

“Do you, now?” He mused, tilting his head to the side as he slowly rounded the corner of the desk to stand in front of you.

By now it was beginning to get dark outside. The ember-like orange glow of the various lamps around the room, and the back lights gave their best effort to keep the dimly lit room visible. His heavy hands came to rest next to each of your thighs, the palms of his hands flat on the smooth desk while he stared down at you.

“You’re…adorable” he smiled, propping you up on the desk and watching you closely.

Darkness kissed your features, the soft and lively look of your skin spurred his desire to ravage you whole like an animal. He stood between the gap in your legs, knowing that he wasn’t going to make the first move regardless. He knew he’d lose a lot of respect from Harrison if he kept going, and he knew that you had a lot to lose by sleeping with him.

Fair trade.

He would have expected you to kiss him, make a comment about his glasses, or even squeal and say you can’t do it anymore. But what he didn’t expect —

Was for you to jet your hips forward, rolling them teasingly against his half-hard bulge. His brows pinched together at the fleeting friction, tingles of pleasure shooting through him for a fraction of a second. His eyes were glued onto where you briefly connected before they shot back up to stare into yours, an even mix of disgruntled desperation.

“You…you’re very bold. Very very bold,” he chuckled, gathering your face between his thumb and the remainder of his fingers, squishing the fat of your cheeks until your teeth resisted his strength.

You smiled, a squished and crooked one as he mashed his lips against yours. A brutal, teeth-and-tongue-filled fight for dominance occurred in your mouths as spit and sin were exchanged on this very desk. Horny and rampant like untouched virgins left alone after hours.

You whined in his mouth when he pushed you back, shoving your back flat against the desk and sending papers floating to the floor with the grace of a mother swan. You had no time to adjust to the way he began to consume you, coaxing every meek and subtle sound of pleasure from your mouth as he slid his knee between your legs to nudge up against your achy cunt.

He pulled away, taking a brief intermission for some much-needed air as he slid his readers off the strong bridge of his nose. Red with fury, and pink with lust, his cheeks and nose flared in the faint orange light as he basked in the way your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath.

“Words, c’mon. I know you have them…” he urged, his knee growing more insistent at your crotch, plucking strings of moans and whines from your orchestral lungs.

“Please…need you so bad,” you panted, your hands coming up to your face to conceal the way your eyes threatened to roll to the back of your head.

“I know you need me, that’s why you came to office hours!” He joked with a patronizing grin, his large hand linking around your wrists to pull them away from your face.

“It’s not funny, I want you inside of me!” You whined, fighting the urge to throw a fit when he gave you an imitation of a sympathetic click of his tongue and a condescending little “awww.”

He chuckled, lowering his knee back to stationary before hooking his hand into your jeans, glancing up at you for confirmation. He let out a scowl when you only nodded.

“I didn’t teach you for months for you to not use all the many words I taught you” he warned, slowly withdrawing his hand from your jeans.

“No, no it’s ok! Take them off please” you said, immediately grabbing his wrist to prevent him from withdrawing his hand from you.

He nodded, undoing the button on your jeans and sliding them down to your lower thighs. He took his time fidgeting around with your puffy clit through the cotton of your panties, up and down with the pad of his thumb before experimenting with small and tight circles.

He listened to the way your moans grew in volume, ending in shrill whimpers the longer he teased the sensitive pearl. He chuckled, an amused smile spreading up to his face.

“Alright, I’m sorry, I’m being mean” he giggled, pulling your panties to the side and toying around with the sticky and glossy wetness that glossed your pretty folds.

His middle and ring fingers pushed into you slowly, in and out with languid and almost practiced strokes to that spongy spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Cosmos aligned, universes collided, and galaxies crumbled before you as he learned the astronomy of your body.

“So tense…you’re never gonna take me if you keep being this tight” he chuckled, picking up the pace with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna have to loosen you up a little. I don’t wanna hurt my favorite student.”

You couldn’t understand why he was apologizing then. With his fingers plunging in and out of you so deliciously, the sloshy and obscene noises mingling with your moans of euphoria ushered any thoughts or coherency in one ear and out the other. There was no way you were hearing him right now, and he knew that.

“Stay with me,” he urged, his free hand seeking refuge over your hipbone. “You’re too pretty to have such an empty mind…but don’t worry I’ll teach you again.”

You tightened around his fingers, his knuckles prodding and pleasuring your gummy walls as you attempted to close your legs around his wrist, much to Luigi’s dismay.

“No, don’t do that. You wanted this. You wanted this for who knows how long, and you’re gonna take everything I give you, okay?” He said, the hand that once rested on your hip coming down to hold your knee, prying your legs open.

You whined, your vision going white with snow as your breath caught in your throat— barely hushed cries of his name rushing from your lips as you soaked his knuckles in milky white ecstasy.

“Just like that…mhm, look at me?” he purred, relishing in the dazed and confused expression that washed over your features. But he wasn’t slowing down.

His fingers were still pistoning in and out of you, and the overstimulation began to bite and nip at your sensitive and puffy cunt. It was deliciously painful, tears pricking and rolling down your cheeks as your lips parted in loud moans. You attempted to scoot back, push his hand away, anything. It just wasn’t working.

“Don’t run from it…I’m not done,” he commanded, holding under your leg to keep you tugged in place. “So pretty…” he purred, his eyes transfixed on the sight of your weeping cunt begging for more while you begged for less.

It was like he was hyperfixated on your moans. His ears pressed to hear more like you weren’t directly in front of him, listening carefully to every single sound you made.

You cried, twitched, came, and writhed as he carried on for what felt like hours. Two turned three, three turned four, and four pulled into five as you felt your eyes completely cross and roll into the back of your mind. So far into the dark depths of pleasure, you could still faintly see the ghost of a smirk on Luigi’s lips in the back of your mind.

Any form of coherency was beginning to leave you as the painful euphoria clouded your mind and squeezed the oxygen out of your body. He was everywhere, cooing and. mocking in your ear as he reduced you to your simplest form. Babbles of "I can't take it" and pained whined as he took what he wanted from you.

“I know, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he purred, an unapologetic grin on his face as he coaxed you into one final orgasm. “I’m done, I’m done. I promise.”

He laughed, this one lacking his usual boyish charm and innocence. This one was mean but warm and loving, like watching a nostalgic home video. He watched you, twitchy and sensitive as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you. 

“Good girl, you did so well for me. C’mon, get up. We’re not finished with your notes. If you can show me you understand the material I’ll let you get all of me.”

[little-jana]

"The Vest"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff, heated, fade to black smut, 18+, no explicit s*x

Warnings: later season spencer, kissing, teasing, touching, fade to black smut, reader having the hots for Spence in uniform, use of Y/N

Words: 3.4k

Summary: The Vest, that's it. We all get it.

a/n: more gifs at the end that describe the vibe...

The team had just landed in yet another city to investigate the latest case. I’d been with the BAU for a while now, and while I had come to appreciate the work we did, I couldn’t help but find myself distracted by Spencer Reid.

The thing is, Spencer had changed. Gone was the shy, awkward genius that I had first met. In his place was a man—older, more confident, a quiet authority that radiated from him. His looks had matured too, his features sharpened. And damn, he was looking good. I tried to tell myself it was just the stress of the job or the exhaustion from another case, but there was no denying the attraction I felt whenever Spencer was near.

Today was no different. The team had split up to canvass the area, and I was assigned to work alongside Spencer as we checked out a local business that may have been connected to the suspect. When I met him outside the building, my breath hitched in my throat.

He was wearing the FBI tactical vest—something he rarely wore in the past—but today it fit him like it had been made for him. It was snug around his broad shoulders, the dark fabric accentuating the lean muscles in his arms. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the way the vest hugged his chest, the way the fabric stretched with every movement, making him look more... powerful.

The tension was almost palpable as we walked through the door. I could barely focus on the task at hand, my mind fixated on him—on the way he walked, on the way his jaw clenched when he was focused, on the slight tension in his posture that only made him look more... commanding.

"You good?" Spencer asked, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

I blinked, realizing I had been staring at him longer than was socially acceptable. "Uh, yeah. Just... tired," I stammered, shaking my head as if to clear the thoughts swirling in my head.

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest smirk curling at the corners of his lips. "Tired, huh? Well, we’ve only been on the job for an hour," he teased, though I noticed a certain edge to his tone that I hadn’t heard before.

I forced a smile, looking down to hide the heat creeping up my neck. "Just... lots to think about."

The air between us felt charged now, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Spencer was... noticing me in a way he hadn’t before. It was subtle, but it was there. And that only made me feel more flustered.

---

By the end of the day, the team had gathered back in the hotel to go over the case details. I was trying my hardest not to make eye contact with Spencer, but I could feel his presence in the room like a force pulling at me. He wasn’t the same as he used to be. His confidence had shifted the dynamic between us, and now it was almost impossible to ignore.

As we all gathered around the table, discussing the evidence, it wasn’t lost on me that Spencer’s vest was still on. I could barely focus on anything else, but as I tried to make mental notes of the details, I felt a shift in the energy around me. Morgan leaned over to whisper something in Hotch’s ear, then shot me a glance. I couldn’t help but feel the heat in my face as I realized they had noticed the way I was looking at Spencer.

"Someone's got a thing for Dr. Reid," Morgan teased quietly, just loud enough for me to hear. I felt my cheeks flush instantly.

I glanced around, hoping nobody else had caught the exchange, but my eyes met JJ’s, and she was smirking knowingly. There was no hiding it now.

I leaned forward, trying to change the subject, but Derek was relentless. "Come on, Y/N, don’t try to pretend you’re not totally into him." His grin widened as Spencer looked up, clearly unaware of the direction the conversation was taking.

"Stop it," I muttered under my breath, my face burning.

But Morgan wasn’t backing down. "I see the way you look at him when he wears that vest," he added, his voice too loud. "It’s like you’re ready to pounce."

I wanted to melt into the floor, but Spencer, ever the oblivious genius, was still talking shop with Hotch, not noticing a thing. I could feel the heat of embarrassment flooding through me, but all I could do was give Morgan a pleading look.

JJ finally intervened, trying to be the peacemaker. "Okay, okay, let’s not make her too uncomfortable." She shot me an apologetic smile, but I could see the twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

I rubbed my temples, trying to focus on the case instead of my rapidly escalating heart rate. The last thing I wanted was for anyone to know how badly I was crushing on Spencer Reid. I was doing just fine pretending it was nothing more than friendly admiration.

---

Later that night, after everyone had retreated to their rooms, I couldn’t shake the teasing comments. I was trying to wind down, but the images of Spencer in that vest kept flashing in my mind. The way it fit him, how it made him look so... so strong. I let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through my hair.

Just as I was about to lie down, there was a knock at my door. My heart skipped a beat, and I stood up quickly, hoping it wasn’t one of the guys looking to hassle me some more. When I opened the door, however, it wasn’t Morgan or JJ—it was Spencer.

He looked at me with a slight smile on his lips, though there was something different about it this time. More knowing. He was standing in the doorway, still in his FBI vest, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected.

"May I come in?" he asked quietly.

I nodded wordlessly, stepping back to allow him in. I could feel the tension in the room almost immediately.

Spencer closed the door behind him and turned to face me. He was watching me carefully, his eyes scanning my face like he was trying to piece something together.

"Look," he started, his voice calm but carrying an edge. "I know what’s been going on. And I know you’re not exactly great at hiding it."

I swallowed, feeling heat rush to my cheeks. "What are you talking about?" I managed to say, though I was sure I wasn’t fooling anyone.

Spencer smiled, but it wasn’t the teasing smile from before—it was softer, almost like he was... amused. "The way you look at me," he said, taking a step closer. "The way you can’t seem to focus when I’m around."

My breath hitched in my throat, and I froze, not knowing how to respond.

"I just wanted to say," he continued, his voice lowering, "that I’ve noticed. And I have to admit, I’ve been kind of hoping you would."

I stared at him, not sure if I was hearing things right. "You—what?"

"I’ve been feeling it too," he said, his tone dropping lower, more intense. "This... tension. It’s been building for weeks. And it’s kind of driving me crazy."

Before I could fully process his words, Spencer stepped forward, closing the distance between us. His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke again, his breath hot against my skin. "I know this is crazy, but I can’t pretend anymore."

And then, in one swift motion, he kissed me. His lips were hot and insistent, and I was lost. Completely and utterly lost. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me against him as the kiss deepened, everything else fading away. The teasing, the awkwardness, the unspoken words—all of it snapped away in an instant.

It was a kiss that told me everything I needed to know. The months of tension, the unspoken attraction—it was all spilling out in that one kiss.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, Spencer’s eyes searched mine. "So," he said softly, "I think it’s safe to say that we’re both on the same page now, right?"

I couldn’t even form words. All I could do was nod, pulling him back to me for another kiss.

"Spencer," I whispered, my voice barely audible, the air between us charged with more energy than I could handle. My mind raced, but my body wasn’t listening—it only knew that I wanted him close.

"You’ve been running through my mind all night," he admitted, his voice soft but steady, full of that quiet confidence I hadn’t seen from him until recently.

My lips parted in surprise, but before I could say a word, he closed the distance again, his hand gently cupping my face. He deepened the kiss, his lips warm and urgent against mine, and it was as if a dam had broken. The kiss was no longer gentle; it was desperate, hungry—a release of weeks, months, maybe even years of unspoken tension. He pulled me toward him, one arm sliding around my waist, the other threading through my hair, gently pulling my head back to give him better access.

I melted against him, my fingers instinctively curling into the fabric of his FBI vest. The way he was holding me—so firm, so confident—sent a surge of heat straight to my core. The kiss grew deeper, our lips clashing and moving in sync as if we were both finally, irrevocably, giving in to what had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

Spencer pulled back just slightly, his forehead resting against mine, our breaths mingling, both of us a little too out of control now.

"I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmured against my lips, his voice hoarse, as if the confession was as much of a surprise to him as it was to me. He sounded almost desperate, like he had been holding this back for far too long and couldn’t keep the floodgates closed any longer.

My chest tightened as I looked into his eyes—his pupils dilated, his lips slightly swollen from our kiss. "So have I," I breathed, my voice shaky, but confident in the truth of my words. There was no doubt in my mind anymore; this connection between us was undeniable.

Without another word, he kissed me again—this time slower, deeper, as though savoring the moment. His hands slid down to my hips, tugging me closer, pressing our bodies together. I gasped at the sudden intensity of it all—the heat, the urgency, the way he was holding me as if he was afraid I might slip away.

I ran my hands up his chest, brushing the fabric of his vest before moving higher, my fingers tangling in his hair. Spencer shuddered at the touch, pulling me even closer until there was no space between us, until it felt like we were two parts of the same whole. The heat between us was nearly unbearable, but I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want any of this to end.

Spencer broke the kiss, though, his breath ragged as he looked down at me with a mixture of awe and need. "Are you sure we should continue this? Say no. But do it now" he asked, his voice quiet but full of the kind of intensity that made my heart race even faster. "Or else I won't be able to control myself."

I looked up at him, my chest rising and falling with each rapid breath, my mind clouded with desire. But there was no hesitation in me now. I knew what I wanted.

"I’m sure," I whispered, pulling him back to me, kissing him fiercely this time.

And that’s when the floodgates really opened.

We found our way to the bed, the world outside the hotel room forgotten. The only thing that mattered in this moment was the heat between us, the desperate, thrilling need to touch and be touched, to finally give in to the attraction that had been building between us for months.

Spencer’s hands were everywhere—gliding over my back, cupping my face, tugging at my clothes with an urgency I could feel deep in my bones. I didn’t want to rush, but at the same time, I didn’t want to wait any longer. I needed him. Needed this connection, needed to feel the way he made me burn with desire.

"God, you’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice rough as he kissed a trail down my neck, sending shivers through my body. His touch was both gentle and possessive, like he wanted to explore every inch of me. The way he said the words—like he truly meant it—had my heart racing all over again.

I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair, pulling him back to me, claiming his lips in a kiss that was all hunger and heat. He groaned into the kiss, one of his hands sliding down my side, tracing the curve of my waist, his fingers brushing against the fabric of my clothes.

I didn’t want any barriers between us. Not now.

Pulling away from his lips for a brief moment, I met his eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. "Spencer," I whispered, my voice trembling, but full of need. "I want you. Now."

He froze for a moment, his eyes searching mine, "Are you sure?"

But there was no need for words now. The intensity in my gaze told him everything he needed to know.

With a quiet sigh, he nodded and kissed me again, this time with a new fervor, as if the weight of the world had been lifted. And as we gave ourselves to each other, there was no going back. No hesitation. Just the raw, beautiful connection between two people who had wanted this for far too long.

---

When the morning light filtered through the blinds, I woke up wrapped in Spencer’s arms, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. My head rested on his shoulder, my body still pressed against his, the faintest of smiles tugging at my lips as I thought back on the night before.

It wasn’t just about the physical connection we’d shared—it was something deeper, something that had been waiting to blossom between us for months, maybe even longer. Spencer and I had crossed a threshold, one that neither of us could ever go back from, and that thought made my heart swell.

His fingers gently brushed against my back as he stirred, and when he finally looked down at me, his eyes were filled with something soft—something intimate that made my pulse quicken in a completely different way than before.

"Morning," he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep, but the warmth in it made my heart skip a beat.

I smiled up at him, my hand sliding up to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm. "Morning," I replied softly, my voice still heavy from the night.

And then, without a word, Spencer kissed me again, slow and gentle, his lips tracing the outline of mine like he had all the time in the world. And in that moment, I knew we both had all the time in the world.

a/n: Bonus gifs:

[thetadispatcher]

The bear was perfectly content with just receiving physical affection, and she'd learned only to get excited at the word treat if G said it. So the others never had to worry about her barreling them over if they used the word well she was nearby.

"That's one way to put it, yes." Dan nodded, there was more that went into installing a stomach into an android so they could actually make use of the food they ate, but he wasn't about to bore them with the technical side of things.

"It was the dinner we had made for Christmas. The visiting family was a little confused why I had a place at the table, but they didn't say anything, as I believe they thought it was all Peter's doing. And questioning Peter on his reasoning rarely gets any results, usually the response is 'I don't know', or 'I just wanted to.'" He felt anyone who witnessed the unusually kind treatment Dan received just chalked it up to Peter's doing. So it made it a lot easier for his parents to get away with doing it as well, since everyone would think they were doing it as to not upset their son.

"Although the first food I was ever offered was a chocolate chip cookie. Peter had bought it from a vendor with the money left over from purchasing me, he thought I needed food to survive too." Dan chuckled quietly, although Peter's choice in what to feed what he thought was a starving android wasn't the best, it was still a kind gesture.

Dan glanced at Bishop, his LED started flashing yellow as he reviewed the information he'd accidentally gotten from touching Strasky. "I suppose that's a good place to start..." He felt he might as well use what he learned of the other Johan Ross and his AI, and see what applied to the Johan he knew and his android. The android was a prototype his parents got from working at Cyberlife, so his model might be called the WAU as it would have no official label yet.

The PL600 glanced at the human in his arm who gave him a lopsided smile in response. "It is. After hearing so many other androids speak of being mistreated by those they thought were family, I'm glad I can say that never happened." He was thankful he didn't have to experience the pain and suffering other androids had at the hands of their owners, he felt sorry for them still, but at least he could tell them that not all humans were terrible. He could give them proof that there was hope for them, they just had to find the right humans who'd accept them as part of the family like he had been.

"Now I just need this one to stop almost dying on me." He gently flicked the human's forehead, getting a glare in return that held no weight as it was clear Peter was trying hard not to smile at the android. "Hearing him call my name in that crowd of androids had to be the happiest I ever felt, then to see he'd lost an eye after the happiness stopped clouding my mind... I can say it felt like my heart sank. Realizing that I could've actually lost him without even getting to say goodbye, that's not something I want to feel again." He fluffed up the man's wild hair, looking at him with a fondness that made it clear how much of an impact the human had made on him.

"Someone's hogging the treats. Heck." Rook said, still petting BeeBee, "And I didn't even bring any snacks along."

It normally wouldn't be an issue to go retrieve some, but she had to mind her own energy levels while they were out there.

"So you can just go out and buy a stomach. That's sick!" And weird at the same time. But Dan's story showed there was at least some kind of reasonable use for the upgrade.

"What was your first meal?" Willow asked, while keeping an eye on Peter.

"I bet it was chips." Rook said.

"You should start with giving him a proper name. Perhaps you could call him WAU." Bishop said with a not so subtle grin that won him a skeptic look, including from his double, "What?"

The android didn't need to ask to know when Bishop was being a dick on purpose. He flexed his arm, as a reminder that he was now ready for another go if he didn't behave.

"Yes, sometimes love comes at the expense of our wardrobe." Willow agreed.

"Hey, I never bled all over you." Rook protested.

"But it's still worth it, isn't it?"

[st44rkeys]

Mr & Mrs Starkey

rafe cameron imagine

pairings: assassin rafe cameron x assassin fem!reader

wc: 17,930..... wow

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

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

part 1 , part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I was with Topper"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking hell"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Strange

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sit"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The glare is returned in full force.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quiet, please-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You swallow hard, nodding in agreement, anything can happen 

even love

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

“In three days"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "Give each other a hug now.”

“Oh, come on"

“Are you serious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now that you mention it-"

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

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

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

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

“At least act like a gentleman” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a tired sigh. “I will.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your fault.

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

And the feeling was mutual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With that, he exits the room.

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

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

“Idiot” she mutters, shaking her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wes shoots him a look that could freeze fire. “Yes, JJ, immediately.”

“…Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Starkey. Your key to your suite" the receptionist says with a bright smile, handing over the key.

“Thank you" you respond, your voice calm, but your mind racing. Rafe, effortlessly confident, slides his arm around your waist. You feel a small jolt of tension in your body, but you force yourself to stay composed, not letting your discomfort show.

“Your suitcases are already in your room. Enjoy your stay" she adds, still smiling, as she moves to the next person "What can I do for you, Mrs. Gomez?”

“Ah, that’s wonderful. Gracias" Rafe responds smoothly, flashing her a charming wink over the top of his sunglasses. You can’t help but feel a little annoyed by how natural he makes it seem

As you walk past staff and guests, you instinctively move closer to Rafe. With a deep breath, you wrap your arms around his torso, hugging him tightly as if you belong there. 

“You’re making this look so natural angel” Rafe whispers in your ear, his voice low and teasing. You roll your eyes, but you keep your expression steady.

“How long have you been waiting for this?” he adds, his tone smooth, like he knows exactly how to provoke you.

You give him a fake smile, the kind that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Don’t tempt me, baby" you reply, your voice dripping with feigned sweetness. “I’ll stab you.”

He chuckles softly, a smug grin curling on his lips. “Easy tiger” he mutters, clearly amused by the tension he knows he’s stirring.

He opens the door, and you step into the expansive suite. The room is far more luxurious than you imagined, with sleek wooden floors that reflect the soft light from the crystal chandeliers above. The walls are adorned with intricate carvings, and large windows offer a breathtaking view of the ocean stretching out to the horizon. The bed is large, draped in soft, white linens that look almost too inviting.

“This place is gorgeous" you say, your voice a little breathless as you run your fingers along the smooth wooden walls, admiring the craftsmanship.

Rafe looks around, he doesn’t seem as impressed as you are, his eyes scanning the room with a casual indifference. “Eh, I’ve seen better" he mutters, barely lifting an eyebrow as he casually strides over to the bed. With a smooth motion, he jumps onto it, throwing himself down with a comfortable ease, as if he’s already claimed the space as his own.

You glance at him with a knowing look, an eyebrow arched. “Of course" you say, the implication clear in your tone.

But then, it hits you there’s only one bed, and a couch in the corner. A couple’s suite, of course. You’d completely forgotten about that detail. “What about sleeping arrangements?” you ask, your voice laced with an unexpected tension as you look over at him.

He lazily opens his eyes, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “What about it?” he replies, his voice low and casual, as if the question itself is insignificant.

“This is going to be a long week” you mutter, your eyes scanning the suite. The large bed and couch are the only options, and it suddenly hits you. You turn to him, trying to keep your tone casual. “So, will you be sleeping on the couch or-"

His laugh interrupts you, a smirk playing on his lips. “Angel, we’re sleeping together,” he says, his voice calm and confident. He points at the large windows, the sun streaming through. “We’ll close the curtains, but we still have to act the part.”

You let out a quiet, defeated sigh, trying to swallow down the unease bubbling in your stomach. This wasn’t supposed to be part of the mission being this close to him. But you can’t back out now. You can’t let your emotions jeopardize everything.

"Fine"

“I’ll be taking a shower” Rafe announces, standing up and removing his shirt. His broad shoulders and chiseled chest come into full view, the muscles taut as he moves. You’ve seen countless men shirtless before, but there’s something about his presence that makes you freeze for a moment.

You try to look away, but your eyes are drawn to his defined frame, the way his skin stretches over the muscle, the faint markings of tattoos that only make him more intimidating. For a second, your breath catches in your throat, and your mind betrays you, pulling up thoughts you’d rather not entertain.

No, stop. This isn’t happening. You mentally shake yourself, forcing your gaze away. 

“You’re free to join if you want" Rafe says over his shoulder as he steps into the bathroom, his voice low and teasing.

“In your dreams Cameron" you reply, your tone sharp, trying to hide the brief flutter his words provoke.

He chuckles darkly, his laughter filling the space between you. “Angel in my dreams, you don’t even want to know what we do" he throws back with a smirk, his voice laced with mischief, before closing the door behind him.

The sound of the door clicking shut leaves a lingering tension in the air, and you can’t help but roll your eyes, a mix of annoyance and something else that you refuse to acknowledge.

You open your bag and retrieve your laptop with practiced ease. You quickly open it, fingers flying over the keys as you type a quick text to Pope: “We're on the cruise.”

With that sent, you turn your attention to the hidden file you’ve kept for moments like this. The click of the mouse is the only sound that fills the room as you open it, the list of Bojan’s contacts filling the screen. You start scanning through the names, but then your eyes stop at one. Andrea Gomez.

The name lingers in your mind, setting off a chain of thoughts. Where have you heard that name before?

The answer hits you in a flash, the receptionist. Her voice echoes in your head, as clear as if she were standing right beside you.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Gomez?”

You quickly turn off your laptop, shove it into your bag, and check your reflection in the mirror. You tug your dress into place, smoothing out any creases, Quickly you scribble a note to Rafe: “Out for lunch, join when you can.” Your handwriting is neat but quick, and you set the note on the bedside table, not giving it a second thought.

After one last glance around the room, you leave, stepping into the quiet hallway. The air is cool against your skin, and the soft hum of distant conversations echoes in the background as you make your way toward the restaurant. You walk fast, the clicking of your heels on the polished floor a steady rhythm. When you push open the door to the restaurant, you’re hit with the low murmur of chatter, the clinking of silverware, and the faint scent of freshly baked bread and strong coffee.

Inside, the place is bustling, but you know exactly where to look. You scan the area, your eyes gliding over the sea of faces until they settle on her Andrea Gomez the woman from the reception. She sits at a table near the window, her blonde hair catching the sunlight, her posture poised and elegant as she sips her drink. You eye the table next to hers, it's free

You begin walking toward the empty table near hers, but just as you near the spot, a woman slides into the chair blocking your path. You stop just short, cursing under your breath. Fucking hell, you think, irritation bubbling up. You take a step back, glancing around quickly, trying to figure out how to proceed.

Scanning the surroundings for any other clues, your eyes fall to the woman’s bag, a bag adorned with dinosaur toys. Perfect, you think, a small grin tugging at the corner of your lips. 

Without missing a beat, you turn toward a waitress who’s walking by. You catch her attention, lowering your voice just enough to make sure only she hears. “Excuse me" you say, your tone laced with concern. The waitress halts, immediately giving you a warm smile

“Could you tell my dear friend over there that her son has been throwing up?” You add a soft, worried sigh to make your voice sound more genuine, just the right level of panic to get her to act quickly. The waitress nods, never questioning you, and turns toward Andrea’s table.

As soon as the random woman exits in a hurry, you slide into the chair, eyes instinctively shifting to Andrea. She doesn’t acknowledge you. Her attention remains fixed on the magazine in front of her, her expression unreadable.

With a soft sigh, you place your bag on the chair beside you. You can’t help but study her, taking in her calm demeanor. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, effortlessly framing her face, and you estimate her to be in her early 40s, though she holds herself with an air of confidence that makes it hard to tell. She’s dressed in a crisp white summer shirt, paired with a flowing long skirt that catches the light with every subtle movement. 

As the waiter approaches to take your order, you decide to play the clueless tourist, pretending to study the menu. “I’ll have a strawberry mango margarita, and… uh” you pause just loud enough for her to hear, watching as Andrea lowers her magazine. Bingo. “Almejas a la… sorry, I can’t pronounce this.”

Before the waiter can respond, the blonde woman beside you interjects, her voice smooth and confident. “Almejas a la marinera" she says with a small smile, her tone polite yet somewhat knowing.

“Yes, that!” you smile, grateful as you hand the menu back to the waiter. You turn to Andrea, meeting her gaze with an air of warmth and ease. “Thank you so much…”

“Andrea" she replies, extending her hand with a smile.

She was kind, perhaps too kind. 

You take her hand, your own smile delicate. “My name’s Jane" you say, your voice calm but steady, already slipping further into your role.

Forty minutes and three margaritas later, Andrea’s laughter echoes across the table. “And then Drew was like, ‘Angel in my dreams, you don’t even want to know what we do.’” She leans back in her chair, chuckling, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and amusement.

You grin, leaning forward slightly as if sharing in her amusement, though inside, you’re calculating every move. The story you just told was an exaggerated and slightly mortifying retelling of what Rafe had said earlier. But Andrea didn’t need to know that. She was tipsy and seemed to find humor in everything, which worked perfectly in your favor.

“Ah, young love” Andrea sighs, her smile softening as she sips from her drink. Her fingers toy with the edge of her glass as her tone turns curious. “So, let me get this straight you’re really going to Cuba?”

You nod offering her an easy smile. “Yep first time. I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Wow" she says with a sigh, leaning back in her chair. “And here I thought this trip was going to be boring.” Her smile widens bright and genuine, and for a brief moment, you almost feel guilty but that's immediately gone

“You know" Andrea continues, setting her glass down "I’m really having fun with you. We should exchange numbers! If you’re free, maybe we could do lunch sometime… or even dinner with our husbands?”

You gasp lightly, your expression lighting up as though the idea had never crossed your mind. “That would be fantastic" you say, masking your true intentions behind a perfectly practiced smile.

You flinch slightly as soft lips press against your cheek, followed by the weight of warm hands resting on your shoulders. You force a smile, quickly placing your hand over his as you turn to look at Rafe. “Baby you scared me" you say with a playful tone, masking your initial surprise.

Rafe chuckles, his hands giving your shoulders a light squeeze. His sharp blue eyes lock onto Andrea, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. You seize the moment, beaming at her. “This is Andrea Gomez my new friend” you say brightly, gesturing toward her. Hoping he recognizes the name, he doesn't. Idiot

"She’s going to Cuba too.”

Understanding dawns on his face, and his grin widens. Without missing a beat, he extends his hand toward Andrea. “Drew Starkey ma’am" he says smoothly, his voice warm and confident.

“Andrea" your new friend says with a warm, sweet smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rafe slides into the chair beside you, his presence as effortless as ever. His hand instinctively finds yours, intertwining your fingers in a way that feels both familiar and practiced. You glance at him, taking in his new outfit a pair of tailored brown pants and a loose, unbuttoned brown shirt and a pair of white framed sunglasses perched on his nose.  He looks like he just stepped out of a magazine.

“All the good things I hope" he says, flashing Andrea a charming smile before casually reaching over to steal a tomato from your plate. His audacity earns him a pointed look from you, but he just chuckles, entirely unbothered.

“Of course! She hasn’t stopped talking about you” Andrea giggles, her tone light and teasing. You resist the urge to kick her under the table, forcing a smile instead.

Great. Just what he needs another boost to his already massive ego.

“You’re lucky to have her” Andrea adds

“I’m the luckiest man alive" Rafe says smoothly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer. His scent clean and warm fills the space between you. You glance at him, catching his side profile, and curse at how pretty he looks.

Smiling sweetly, you let your hand drop under the table and pinch his leg, hard.

He stiffens, letting out a low groan that he quickly covers with a cough. “Oh! Uh, isn’t she so beautiful?” he says turning to Andrea with a strained grin.

Andrea laughs, oblivious to the silent war happening between you two. “She is truly beautiful"

Rafe glances back at you, his eyes glinting with mischief, and you flash him an innocent smile, victorious.

“Ah I’ve stayed way longer than I planned” Andrea says, glancing around for the waiter, looking a bit flustered.

“It’s fine” Rafe cuts in, leaning back casually. “I already covered it.”

Andrea’s eyebrows shoot up. “What? You didn’t have to do that!”

Rafe waves it off like it’s no big deal. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. Call it a little thank you for keeping her company.”

Andrea laughs, shaking her head. “Well that’s sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Anytime” Rafe says, shooting her a quick grin before turning to you, smirking like he just did something heroic.

As the blonde woman exits the restaurant, the waiter approaches to take Rafe’s order. You take a quick look around, making sure no one is listening. Clearing your throat, you lean in slightly. “Her husband’s one of Bojan’s clients and a friend. I’m not sure if she knows about his… side interests but we can definitely use her to get the invite” you explain, keeping your voice low.

Rafe clearly unfazed, snags another tomato from your plate. You grab your fork, aiming for his hand, but he’s quick to pull it away with a smug grin. Before you can react, the fork is lodged in the table.

“Seriously? Get your own food"

He leans back with a wink, unbothered. “Yours tastes better" he says, his voice teasing.

“Anyway, I got her number. She’s staying close to us" you say, taking a sip of your drink and casually glancing at him.

Without warning, Rafe reaches over and gives your cheek a playful squeeze. You shoot him a sharp glare, pulling back slightly.

“What?” he says with a smirk, shrugging innocently. “Can’t a husband show a little affection to his wife?”

“You’re ruining my makeup, baby" you hiss, swatting his hand away as he chuckles clearly enjoying himself.

As Rafe’s food arrives, he digs in casually, but his sharp gaze scans the room with purpose. His eyes narrow as he spots two men in gray suits, sunglasses perched on their faces as they subtly observe the diners. They’re speaking into earpieces, their demeanor calm but focused. Got them

He glances at you and notices your gaze lingering on his plate. Without a word, he picks up a potato and holds it out to you.

You narrow your eyes at him suspicious. “What are you doing?”

“Just eat it" he mutters his tone flat, like he’s doing you a favor.

You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll pass. I don’t trust your taste.”

He smirks, popping it into his own mouth. “Your loss.”

You glance at him, arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan?”

Rafe leans back in his chair “We’ll go to dinner, charm your new bestie a little more, then I’ll find a way to sneak into their suite. It might be tricky with the guards wandering around, plus staff and nosy guests, but—”

“No" you cut him off firmly, shaking your head.

He pauses, raising a brow. “What do you mean no?”

"No. It’s an adverb, but it can also double as an adjective or a noun depends on the context.”

His jaw tightens as he glares at you. “I know what no is. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

You pout, tilting your head mockingly. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Rafe clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Watch your attitude angel. I get that we’re supposed to work together, but don’t push it. Tonight, I’m breaking in-"

“Fucking try it Rafe" you snap, your voice sharp as your glare pierces through him. “I know you’re used to giving orders to your little friends and having them wag their tails, but that won’t work on me. It’s a reckless plan. People might see you. Hell, whatever’s in their suite will still be at their house. So wait.”

He laughs low and mocking, shaking his head. “You’re scared to take a risk. That’s your problem, angel always overthinking instead of acting.”

"And your problem" you fire back, leaning closer your noses almost touching “is thinking you’re untouchable. Newsflash, you’re not.”

“Oh, really?” His smirk fades, replaced by a hard stare. “You know what, if you’ve got a genius plan, I’m all ears. Please enlighten me.” 

"Anything is better than your dumb idea of sneaking in there tonight. You don’t even know if they’ve got cameras set up or extra security. But sure, let’s roll with the ‘I’m Rafe Cameron, nothing can touch me’ strategy.”

Rafe shifts in his chair. “At least I get things done" he says, his voice low and edged with challenge. “You’re too afraid of screwing up to even try.”

You sling your bag over your shoulder, shooting him a pointed look as you stand. “Save your impulsive acts for when it actually matters. Bon appétit baby" you say, your tone dripping with sarcasm before turning on your heel and walking away.

Behind you, Rafe lets out a sharp laugh of disbelief, the sound carrying over the clink of cutlery in the restaurant. He stares at the empty chair next to him for a moment, his grip tightening on his fork before he tosses it onto his plate.

“Unbelievable" he mutters under his breath. As much as he hates to admit it, you weren’t entirely wrong. But that doesn’t mean he’s about to let your little speech kill his plans.

Scoffing, he pulls a crisp fifty dollar bill from his wallet, slaps it on the table, and stands. “Fucking pain in the ass" he mutters, adjusting his sunglasses as he strides out.

As night falls, you stand under the steady stream of the shower, scrubbing your skin harder than usual, as if the water could wash away the frustration boiling inside you. Rafe hadn’t come back after lunch. Where he disappeared to, you didn’t know, and honestly, you didn’t care at least that’s what you told yourself.

“Stupid asshole" you mutter under your breath, slamming the shampoo bottle onto the metal counter with more force than necessary. The clank echoes through the bathroom.

The thought of him acting so recklessly, barging into situations without a second thought, sends another wave of irritation through you. How could someone so smug also be so damn careless?

You grab the bathrobe, tying it firmly around your waist, the knot tighter than it needs to be. Snatching the hair dryer, you start drying your hair with sharp, aggressive movements. “Afraid to take risks?” you mutter, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. “Screw him. I take risks all the time.” His words replay in your mind, igniting another flare of irritation.

With a frustrated huff, you set down the dryer and reach for the hair rollers, winding them into your damp hair. “Stubborn, arrogant asshole" you mutter under your breath, your reflection staring back at you as if agreeing.

Rafe exhales deeply as he unlocks the door, stepping into the dimly lit room. The lights are off, but the sound of the hair dryer buzzing from the bathroom is unmistakable.

He rubs the back of his neck, the tension in his muscles palpable after another long day of getting nowhere. He locks the door behind him and flops onto the bed, feeling the weight of the day settle in. He had spent hours on the move, trying to pry useful information from anyone he could, but all he encountered were empty praises for Bojan, as if the man were some kind of god.

“Idiots" he mutters under his breath.

The hum of the hair dryer stops abruptly, and Rafe is grateful. The constant noise had been getting on his nerves. He unlocks his phone to check for messages from his friends, hoping for something, anything useful, but before he can scroll through, he hears your voice.

At first, he thinks you’re speaking to him, but then he realizes you’re just talking to yourself. A small smile tugs at his lips as he listens for a moment, amused. Even though you're talking shit about him

Rafe stands up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and knocks on the bathroom door. “You know talking to yourself is a sign of schizophrenia"

There’s silence on the other side. You don’t respond.

He raises an eyebrow, about to fire off another remark, but before he can you bang on the door the sound sharp and sudden. He can’t help but laugh a real, genuine chuckle that escapes him “Alright, alright" 

It’s written well, but adding a bit more tension or internal reflection could heighten the emotional intensity of the scene. For example, you could mention Rafe’s reaction to you slamming the door or your own feelings as you leave. Here’s a small tweak:

Rafe pulls off his t-shirt, his eyes scanning his suitcase, the clothes tangled up with yours. He whistles low under his breath, rummaging through the mess.

The door opens, but neither of you makes eye contact. You reach for the white set you’d chosen earlier, brushing past him to grab your makeup bag.

Rafe without missing a beat snatches the bag and holds it up a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Looking for this?”

You don’t flinch. Instead, you silently snatch the bag from his grasp and march toward the bathroom. You slam the door behind you so hard it rattles the walls, the sound echoing between the two of you.

“Don’t take too much time" he calls out, his voice carrying across the room. He grabs a white t-shirt from the suitcase and a pair of beige shorts moving quickly. His fingers work with ease, pulling off his clothes and slipping into the fresh outfit.

He grabs his cologne from the dresser, spritzing it generously into the air, the sharp, fresh scent filling the space. As the scent settles, he casually snatches up a sweatshirt, tying it around his neck

Radfe glances toward the bathroom, where you’re still nowhere near finished. With a low groan, he throws himself onto the bed, stretching out and staring at the ceiling, his patience wearing thin. Every few seconds his eyes flick toward the door, hoping for some sign that you’re ready.

He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow, a sigh escaping him. “Come on we’re running late" he mutters under his breath. The clock on the wall ticks away but still nothing.

Rafe rubs his face with both hands “You know, I’m starting to think you’re doing this on purpose” he says. But the truth is, he’s just restless. You’re never this slow… or maybe you are.

In the bathroom, you balanced your phone between your ear and shoulder while carefully removing the rollers from your hair.

“So, I just need to get close to him?” you ask Pope.

He hums in agreement. “Yes get close to her husband. From the app I sent I’ll sync the data from his phone.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, reaching for your phone as you hear Rafe’s whiny voice in the background. “Alright I’ll do my best. Talk to you later.” You hang up

You study your reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The long white lace skirt clings to your hips in all the right places, and the short tank top fits your curves perfectly, accentuating every line. Your hair, full of volume and cascading in soft waves, frames your face effortlessly. The makeup is simple but flawless a sharp wing of eyeliner and a glossy sheen on your lips, the perfect balance between effortless and polished.

Everything about your appearance is on point, exactly how you envisioned it.

Except for one small problem. The tank top’s zipper rests just behind you, unreachable no matter how you stretch or twist. You’ve tried everything reaching over your shoulder, turning awkwardly, even attempting to contort yourself in ways that just aren’t even possibly but the zipper refuses to budge.

Frustration builds, and with a sigh, you reach for the fake wedding ring resting on the counter. The large stone catches the light, a perfect illusion of glamour. You slip it on, the weight of it feeling oddly reassuring as you take one last look at your reflection.

There’s no way around it. As much as you hate to admit it, you’ll have to ask Rafe.

Great.

You open the door and step out, finding Rafe looking out of the window. He turns when he hears you, his eyes scanning you for a moment though you feel as if the glance lasts much longer than it actually does.

“Finally" he says, a hint of smugness in his tone.

You roll your eyes, choosing to ignore his words. Turning your back to him, you speak with a mixture of annoyance and frustration. “Help me with this.”

He glances at the unzipped zipper, his gaze sharp as he takes a step closer. His finger brushes against your back, sending an involuntary shiver through you as he grabs the zipper.

“Say please" 

“I don’t have time for this" you exhale sharply, growing impatient.

“I have all the time in the world" he responds with a sassy grin

"Rafe-"

"Angel"

“Please" you finally relent, your frustration giving way to defeat. The moment the word escapes your lips, the zipper is quickly pulled up.

Then we move away from each other, I open the suitcase, the latch clicking open, and my fingers quickly sift through the contents. I find the lipstick-knife, its sleek design a perfect disguise. I slip it into my bag, then grab a few more essentials: my gun, a set of lock picks, and other things

Across from me, Rafe’s already at work. He pulls out his gun, checking the clip before hiding it behind his back. Then he grabs a couple of extra magazines

Once we’ve gathered everything, we move toward the door our movements smooth. I step a little ahead, wrapping my arm around his bicep. Rafe doesn’t hesitate, his gaze steady as he reaches for the door handle. He pulls it open with a sharp tug, the creak of the door cutting through the silence.

We exchange no words as we step outside together, the cool night air sweeping over us.

Soft music fills the air, the gentle hum of it blending with the quiet chatter of the restaurant. Rafe and I sit at a table in the center, our plates in front of us, the wine in our glasses catching the light.

Your gaze shifts almost instinctively to Andrea sitting just two tables away with her husband Diego. You lean in slightly, lowering your voice. “I need to get close to him.”

Rafe’s eyes flicker briefly toward them before he nods, his expression unreadable. “Pope can collect the data from his phone" You add watching him carefully.

He gives a subtle nod in agreement, his focus returning to the table as the plan begins to take shape.

You flash your best smile and wave at Andrea, who catches your eye and immediately mirrors the gesture. Rising from your seat, you watch as she stands in kind, moving toward you with an energy that matches her excitement. She leans in and places a warm kiss on your cheek.

“Jane I’m so happy to see you!” she says her voice bright with enthusiasm.

A laugh escapes you as you reply "I could say the same.” You take a step back, admiring her. “Look at you, you look gorgeous"

“Oh, stop" Andrea waves her hand dismissively, a playful smile lighting up her face. “Thank you, but you look absolutely ravishing yourself.”

She glances over at her husband, who’s still preoccupied with his phone. With a soft smile, she turns back to me. “Diego" she calls out lightly, “this is Jane. I met her today. Jane, this is my husband.”

Diego looks up, his gaze lingering on me a little longer than I’m comfortable with, scanning me from head to toe with a cool appraisal. He clears his throat before standing, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you" he says, his voice clipped but polite.

I return the handshake, keeping my smile polite, though the encounter feels off. “Likewise" I reply, glancing briefly over at Rafe, who watches the exchange with quiet interest. “I just wanted to say hi, but I won’t keep you long. I’ll head back-”

“Nonsense" Andrea interrupts, her voice warm, with an edge of insistence. “Invite your husband and join us for dinner. It’s the least I can do after paying for my lunch. Don’t make me feel guilty now.” She laughs softly, the sound light but with a touch of familiarity.

Diego opens his mouth, as if to protest, but then seems to think better of it. Instead, he shoots Andrea a sharp glare, his jaw tightening. You can’t help but smile inwardly, savoring the small victory.

“If you insist, I’ll go call Drew” you reply, your voice calm as you turn to move away. As you approach Rafe, you lean in close, whispering in his ear. “Secured the dinner with them.”

He glances at you with a satisfied smile, his tone warm but quiet. “Good job angel.” He takes your bag for you while standing up. With a smooth, almost possessive gesture, he places his hand lightly on your back, guiding you forward.

Rafe and I share a smile as we approach the table, the unspoken understanding between us clear. Rafe immediately turns to Andrea, giving her a respectful nod. “Andrea, nice to meet you again" he says smoothly, before turning his attention to the man beside her, extending his hand. “I don’t think we’ve met. Drew Starkey.”

Diego hums as he accepts the handshake, his grip firm. “Diego Gomez" he introduces himself as we all take our seats. His gaze sharpens, the curiosity evident. “Starkey? That sounds familiar. What do you do?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow “Luxury estate developer" he replies, his tone casual as he lies with practiced ease. “I run my own firm.”

At the mention of firm, Diego’s eyes visibly light up, a hint of interest piqued. “Oh, really?” he says leaning in slightly.

Rafe gives a small nod, taking a sip from his wine glass, his tone cool. “Yes based on North Carolina” he confirms smoothly, letting the words hang in the air just long enough to keep Diego intrigued.

“Ooh, Jane’s an art advisor,” Andrea says with a smile, drawing Diego’s attention to me. He looks at me curiously, his interest clearly piqued. “Diego is a huge fan of art. He even studied art history.”

Oh, great, you think to yourself, your stomach sinking.

Diego chuckles, adjusting his tie as he speaks. “I’m glad someone still appreciates unique things these days,” he says, his eyes gleaming with the kind of intensity that makes you uneasy.

“Thoughts on Da Vinci?” he asks, and you can practically feel your pulse quicken.

"Da Vinci?” you repeat, buying yourself a moment to think. “Well, I mean… he’s definitely a big name, right? Everyone knows his stuff. But, his work can sometimes be a bit overrated. Like, everyone talks about him being the best, but there are so many other artists who did things just as impressive, if not more.”

Diego hums in agreement, a satisfied look crossing his face. “Exactly, he doesn’t deserve the title of best artist” he says, his voice carrying a hint of smugness.

The table laughs lightly, but Diego presses on, much to your dismay. “So, who do you think deserves the recognition?”

You take a deep breath, trying to pull something from the depths of your knowledge. “Well… Claude Monet. I think he really changed the way people look at light and nature in art.”

Diego raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Ah, Monet. A solid choice.”

You nod, feeling the tension ease just a little, hoping it’s enough to keep the conversation moving.

Diego turns to you with a smile, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary. “I like you" he says, a low chuckle escaping him.

An hour has passed, and the sound of laughter echoes through the restaurant, a strange blend of genuine amusement and forced cheer. Diego hasn’t stopped talking since we arrived bragging, joking, and generally dominating the conversation.

Even with his practiced smile, you can see the tension in Rafe’s body, his patience wearing thin. You get the sense that he’s seconds away from slamming Diego’s head onto the table.

Finally, Rafe breaks the tension, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle edge. “How about we hit the bar?” he suggests, turning toward Diego. “Leave our ladies to chat in peace for a bit.”

Andrea lets out a laugh. “Thank god.”

Diego laughs heartily in return. “You’re right, young man.” He claps a hand onto Rafe’s shoulder with a firm slap. “I’ll show you exactly what my favorite mixes are.”

Your ‘husband’ leans in close, his voice barely a whisper. “Give me your phone.”

With a quick nod, you understand what he’s up to and hand it over without hesitation. He brushes a light kiss against your cheek, then stands up and walks toward the bar with confident strides.

Andrea glances toward her husband and chuckles softly. “He talks a lot" she comments, her tone a mix of amusement and slight exasperation.

You laugh lightly, offering the most convincing smile you can muster. “But he’s a fun person though" you say lying smoothly.

Andrea’s smile falters for just a moment, but she quickly catches herself, straightening in her chair. “That he is" she agrees, her voice firm, though her posture remains slightly tense.

You rest your chin in your hands, casually tilting your head as you ask, “So what exactly does he do for work?”

-

"They're gonna gossip now, thats how women are" Diego lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head as he removes his blazer and drapes it over the chair. Rafe sits beside him, his eyes briefly flicking to the blazer eyes locking with Diego's phone 

“Definitely worth stopping by this bar" the older man says, fixing his mustache as he leans in. He gestures to the bartender “A Japanese whiskey for me, and Drew what’s your drink?”

Rafe glances at the bartender, barely pausing before responding, “Monkey 47 gin.”

Diego raises an approving eyebrow, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face. “Good choice" he nods, clearly pleased with the order.

The older man glances at Rafe’s ring. “How long are you locked in?” he asks

Rafe flashes a controlled smile. “A year" he replies his tone even.

As the bartender sets their drinks in front of them, Rafe suppresses a sigh. He doesn't need alcohol, he needs a calming pill to dull the headache this man has been causing since they sat down.

Diego chuckles, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Ah still early. You haven’t gotten bored of her yet?”

Rafe raises an eyebrow “Give it another year,” Diego continues, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. “You’ll find yourself in other women’s beds.”

He laughs loudly, and Rafe follows suit "Yeah, I don’t think that’ll be happening,” Rafe responds, taking a long, deliberate sip from his drink.

“That’s what they say" Diego says with a smirk, clinking his glass against Rafe’s.

Rafe nods and casually shifts the conversation. “So, you mentioned you’re building a summer house in Greece? Where exactly?”

The mention of Greece seems to spark Diego’s interest, and he immediately launches into a detailed, unfiltered explanation of the project. Rafe listens with mild disinterest, nodding as Diego rambles on about things he doesn’t need to know.

Seizing the opportunity, Rafe leans in a little closer, subtly grabbing a napkin from the bar. He carefully blocks Diego’s line of sight, then drops a crushed pill into his drink. Satisfied with his handiwork, he pats the napkin on his forehead, a faint chuckle escaping him.

Once he’s done, Rafe straightens up and dabs the napkin on his forehead, flashing a playful smile. “Even though we’re in the middle of the sea, it’s still hot" 

Diego nods and takes a long sip of his drink. Rafe watches closely, yeah, drink it all, he thinks, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

It doesn’t take long for the pill to take effect. Diego’s stomach suddenly rumbles loudly, an unsettling sound that echoes across the table. “Oho" he laughs awkwardly, rubbing his stomach. “Guess that’s what alcohol does to you" he adds with a half-hearted chuckle. “Excuse me for a minute.”

He rises from his seat, too distracted by the uncomfortable noises coming from his gut to remember his blazer. It’s left hanging over the back of his chair as he hurries toward the restroom, his movements hurried and clumsy.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Rafe casually signals for another drink, ensuring the bartender is preoccupied with the order. The last thing Rafe needs is to draw attention right now.

Once the bartender walks away, Rafe quickly slides Diego’s phone from his jacket pocket, tapping it against your phone to establish the connection. A small loading icon appears on the screen, the seconds stretching out as Rafe’s heart rate picks up.

“Come on" he mutters under his breath, his eyes scanning the room with calculated precision. He carefully hides both phones in his hand, slipping them out of view as he shifts slightly in his seat. His gaze flicks around the restaurant, making sure no one is paying attention.

Rafe tenses for a split second as he feels a hand land on his shoulder, but his nerves immediately settle when he sees it’s you.

“It’s loading" he mutters, showing you the phone, his expression tight with focus. You glance around the room, staying alert.

“Where is he?” you ask quietly, your eyes scanning for any sign of Diego.

“Bathroom" Rafe replies with a smirk. “I slipped antacids in his drink.” He snorts lightly, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

“Andrea went to her room,” You say, frustration threading through your words as you glance at the screen. “Why is it taking so long?” The progress bar is at 60%, the numbers slowly crawling up.

Rafe lets out a long sigh, his eyes narrowing at the phone. “Weak signals" he mutters, tapping the screen in frustration.

You nod, your gaze instinctively shifting toward the door. A chill of anticipation runs through you, and you grab Rafe’s arm, shaking it urgently. “He’s coming.”

Rafe’s eyes snap wide in surprise, and he looks between me and the door. “What- how did he get back so fast?” his gaze shifting from Diego’s approaching figure to yours.

Diego's eyes scan the table, landing on the two of us. He smiles, a wide. You put head against Rafe’s shoulder, letting your body relax into him, acting far more drunk than you feel. Your words come out thick and sluggish. “Baby… let’s go to bed already" You slur, leaning in just a little closer to him, movements slow and exaggerated.

“Ooh, looks like someone’s had a bit too much to drink,” Diego chuckles as he approaches the table, his grin widening as he eyes you.

Rafe lets out a soft laugh, keeping his tone light. “She never handles alcohol well,” he says, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

You pout dramatically, pointing an unsteady finger at both of them. “Are you two… or four? I see four of you- making fun of me" you slur your voice thick with fake indignation.

Diego raises his hands in mock surrender, laughing. “This is my cue to leave and find my wife.”

Panic bubbles up in your chest as you scramble for a reply. “She uh she went to bed" you blurt out trying to keep him from leaving too soon.

Diego pauses then glances toward the other side of the restaurant. “Well in that case, I’d better head out too.” He grabs his blazer from the chair, straightening it over his arm.

Rafe glances at the phone the loading bar at 99%. Thinking fast he stands quickly forcing a smile. “What about another drink? On me" he offers smoothly.

Diego shakes his head already turning away. “No, no, I’m having some… issues" he mutters rubbing his stomach. “Maybe another time.” 

Just as Diego turns to leave you speak up, your voice slightly slurred. “Sir you- I saw it in your eyes. You know art" you say, throwing in a fake hiccup for effect. “So… the next time I’m having-”

Rafe shifts closer to him, glancing at the phone just as it hits 100%.

“-an art event, you’ll be the first to get an invite" you finish, flashing him a tipsy but charming smile.

Diego chuckles clearly amused. “I’ll hold you to that invite" he replies, patting his chest lightly.

As he adjusts his blazer, Rafe deftly slips the phone back into the pocket, his movements smooth and unnoticed.

“I’d better head out. Have a nice night" Diego says giving a polite nod before walking away.

You exhale softly, your shoulders finally relaxing as Rafe straightens up beside you, his hand brushing lightly against your back. “Well, that was close" he mutters his lips curving into a sly smirk.

“Where’s my Oscar?” you huff dramatically, fanning yourself with your hand as if you’d just delivered the performance of a lifetime.

Rafe nudges you rolling his eyes. “Don’t get cocky. Now text Pope.”

You snatch your phone back, the victorious grin fading as you refocus on the task at hand. Fingers flying over the screen, you quickly relay the update to Pope while Rafe gently steers you toward your suite. His hand rests lightly on your back, guiding you through the dimly lit hallway as the adrenaline from the evening begins to settle.

“So?” you press impatiently into the phone, already sprawled on the bed in your pajamas. Your elbows prop you up as you wait for Pope’s answer. Rafe lies beside you, his ear next to your phone, listening intently.

Pope lets out a long sigh. “Well, I’ve gone through his messages just the usual back and forth with his friends, his wife… and a few other women" he adds, his tone laced with annoyance. “There’s also some correspondence with Bojan, but nothing suspicious in the texts. Just location and time details, supposedly for buying jewelry, but we know that’s bullshit.”

Rafe groans softly, running a hand over his face. “Did you check his files?” he asks, his tone sharp with frustration.

“Yeah” Pope replies flatly. “Only porn.”

You roll your eyes, falling back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. “Of course" 

“I’ll keep digging and let you know if I find anything. Good luck, guys" Pope says before the line goes dead.

You sigh heavily, dropping your phone onto the mattress and letting your head fall back against the pillow. “Well, that was useless" you mutter staring at the ceiling.

Rafe runs a hand through shaved hair, his frustration barely contained. “We’ll find something"

Turning your head, you glance at him. The faint glow of moonlight from outside casts soft shadows across his sharp features, and for a brief moment, his confidence eases your tension. “Tomorrow the real game begins"

But deep down, the nerves linger. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t anxious. The weight of the mission is pressing down on you, you'll be all alone, with Rafe. In an island where maybe, you won't even come out alive 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push those thoughts aside. There’s no room for doubt now, not when everything depends on what happens next. Rafe shifts beside you, the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“Get some rest," he murmurs, his voice softer now. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

You nod silently, closing your eyes and letting the tension in your body ease just enough. 

A few minutes pass in comfortable silence, and just as you’re about to drift off, Rafe’s voice cuts through the quiet.

“You looked pretty tonight" he says suddenly.

Your eyes flutter open, turning toward him in surprise. He’s lying on his back arms tucked under his head staring out the window.

And that made your stomach flutter. It was simple maybe even fake but it didn’t stop the warmth from creeping up your neck and spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful the lights were off, hiding the blush you couldn’t quite control.

“Uh thanks…?” you mumble, shifting slightly. “What’s with the sudden compliment?”

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know" he says after a beat. “The way that guy was talking about his wife earlier it was disgusting. So I figured I’d give my wife a proper compliment.”

A laugh escapes you, soft and amused. “Fake wife" you correct raising a brow.

Rafe scoffs, his lips quirking into a smirk. “Same thing.”

“Go to sleep" you say, shaking your head with a smile, closing your eyes again.

Instead of listening, Rafe leans closer, his voice dropping to a teasing murmur. “What if I want to cuddle with my wife tonight?”

You roll your eyes, placing a hand on his face and pushing him back. “Sleep Rafe" you say firmly, though you can’t help the small grin tugging at your lips.

He chuckles softly, settling back into his spot. Within moments, the room falls quiet again

"Do you really think-"

"Good night Rafe"

"Night angel"

[mrsbarnesblog]

caught

masterlist

summary: after accidentally spilling soda on your shirt while hanging out with Sarah, you go to the bathroom to wash it only to be met with her brother. freshly out of the shower.

words count: 1.2k

warnings: making out, half-naked Rafe, suggestive?

The movie played on Sarah’s flat screen, with you both being lazily spread out on her bed, but you couldn’t focus. You were in her room, sipping soda and pretending to actually pay attention to the cheesy rom-com she swore was “life-changing.” But the real distraction was her brother, Rafe, who’d been lurking somewhere in the house all evening.

The tension between you and Rafe had been simmering for months. Stolen glances, fleeting touches, and a kiss that you shared not so long ago were slowly driving you insane. After the night when he kissed you after driving you back to your house and leaving with a soft ‘goodnight’, you couldn’t seem to focus on anything beside that memory.

You hadn’t told anyone—not even Sarah—because you knew how complicated it would get. Sarah’s protective streak would go into overdrive, and your other Pogue friends would probably be either pissed off or completely shoked.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to shake the thoughts from your head, when the ice-cold soda spilled over the rim of the can and onto your shirt.

“Shit.” You muttered, jerking back as the liquid seeped into the fabric.

Sarah burst out laughing, putting the movie on pause and sipping her own soda with a grin. “Oh my god, you’re a disaster. Go clean it up before you ruin my comforter!”

“In your bathroom?”

“Nah, in the one down the hall, I told you that the water doesn't work in mine. And try not to cause any more problems.” She teased, her grin wide.

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed some tissues from her ightstand and headed down the hallway. You pushed open the bathroom door without thinking, too focused on the mess.

“Holy—”

Your words caught in your throat.

Standing there was Rafe. His back was turned to you at first, a bright white towel slung low on his hips, his shoulders, and his muscular back still wet from the shower. He turned at the sound of the door, his brows raising in mild surprise.

“Didn’t know I had company.” He said, his voice lazy, like he wasn’t the one standing half-naked in front of you.

Your heart pounded. You wanted to look away, to leave, but your feet stayed rooted to the spot as your eyes hungrily slid over his perfect body, not missing a single spot and lingering on that perfect v-line. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” You managed, your voice shaking slightly.

Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk. “You’re staring.”

“I am not!” You shot back, though your gaze betrayed you as it flicked briefly to his chest.

He took a slow step toward you, and the air in the room seemed to thicken. “You sure about that?”

You swallowed hard, your back hitting the door as you instinctively stepped away. “Rafe, I was just—”

“Just what?” He interrupted, his tone playful but edged with something darker, something dangerous. “Sneaking a peek? It’s okay. I don’t mind if it’s you, you know that.”

“Stop.” You said, but your voice slightly trembled, and Rafe definitely didn’t miss that.

He didn’t. Instead, he leaned a hand against the door beside your head, caging you in. Face too close to you, with water drops still sliding down his damp hair right on the floor. His other hand tugged the towel around his hips a little higher, a deliberate tease, making your eyes shamelessly follow his movements.

“Relax.” He murmured, his voice low, intimate. “It’s just me.”

“Exactly.” You hissed, trying to keep your head clear and not fall for his tricks, even if Rafe’s presence alone made your knees weak and your insides flutter with anticipation. “You’re Sarah’s brother. If she finds out about this—”

“About what?” He tilted his head, his lips dangerously close to yours. “We haven’t even done anything. Yet.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the faint scent of his soap intoxicating you. With a low chuckle, he grabbed your arm, pulling you further into the room, closer to the sink, and taking napkins from your hands. He patted your shirt to make it seem like he was actually doing something. You both knew that it was just his little game, his usual teasing demeanor around you. 

You turned your head to look at the foggy mirror above the sink, seeing your reflection and once again noticing how good he looked beside you—so big, strong, and goddamn sexy. 

“We look good together, don’t we?” Rafe murmured beside your ear, his pretending of cleaning your shirt long forgotten when your head snapped into his direction and you saw him just a few centimeters away from your face.

“Rafe, this isn’t—”

Before you could finish, his lips brushed yours, testing. It was gentle at first, like he was daring you to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, your hands found his tense shoulders, gripping them as he kissed you deeper, his other hand sliding to your waist.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, as the kiss consumed you. The tension that had been building between you for months exploded all at once, leaving no room for reason. Rafe pushed you back, closer to the sink, then hooked his hands under your thighs and easily lifted you on the counter. He pushed himself in between your legs, and for a second you worried that his not-really-helping-to-hide-anything towel might just simply drop with the way how carelessly he moved in between your legs. 

You panted against his lips, too lost in his touch and scent, never wanting this moment to end. Your body was heating up from Rafe's touch and the way his lips were moving against your, making it wet and messy. You slid your nails from his shoulders down his chest, leaving long stripes and pulling a groan from his mouth onto your lips. Then the door behind you creaked open.

“Babe, why is it taking you so long—”

Sarah’s voice cut off abruptly.

You sprang apart, pushing Rafe away from you, and jumped down from the counter, your heart racing as Sarah stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror.

“Oh. My. God.” Her voice was laced with disbelief and disgust. “Ew, Rafe! What were you doing to her?!”

You tried to step forward to explain, but Rafe’s arm slid around your waist, holding you firmly in place. 

“Sarah, I can—”

“Save it.” She snapped, throwing up a hand to stop you. Your stomach dropped thinking that she was actually angry at you. “I knew something was going on, but I didn’t need to see it! And, for the love of everything holy, Rafe, hold your towel!” She moaned in desperation, covering her eyes with one hand.

Behind you, Rafe chuckled, completely unbothered. “What can I say, sis? She’s irresistible.”

“Gross!” Sarah groaned dramatically. “Figure this out somewhere else! And don’t touch anything in here!” She stormed off, muttering under her breath.

You turned to Rafe, mortified. “This is a disaster.”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worth it.”

“You’re impossible.” You muttered, though you didn’t pull away as he leaned in again, his lips ghosting over yours gently and tenderly.

“And you’re not saying no.” He whispered, the smirk on his face making your stomach flip.

You knew this wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

[insomniadreamzz]

Hey, how are you? I wanted to request G!P Jinx x Reader. Imagine that the reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they have unprotected sex and then Jinx gets the reader pregnant? Something like the reader being afraid to tell Jinx and she freaks out about it and stuff like that… Could there also be smut at the end and fluff too? Please, I've never seen that around here 😮‍💨

Helloo! Thank you I am perfectly fine. Today is my birthday and I am actually busy but I LOVE this request so I had to write it down today 👀

———

My everything

G!P Jinx x Fem!Reader

Smut, mentions of pregnancy, fluff

The last days you felt kinda off, your emotions were like a rollercoaster and you got more sensitive. Jinx realised this too, making her feel a little worried about you. Since she had mental issues herself, she always questioned if she did something wrong, making the situation between you both get a little more complicated.

„Is everything okay my love? It’s your third plate of food today. I don’t mind it at all but…I am worried if something is bothering you. You know you can tell me anything right? You do trust me do you?“ Jinx asked as you were about to finish your food, your gaze moving up to look at her, a little smile on your face. „Of course I do trust you. You are my girlfriend after all. I just feel more hungry than usual these days, nothing to worry about.“ You tried to reassure her but she felt something was still off.

The next days your behavior went on, you also felt nauseous out of nowhere which made you realise that you might be pregnant. Last time you and Jinx got intimate you didn’t use protection which was a little silly of both of you but to be honest you didn’t really realise she would get you pregnant that fast. Whatever…if it was true and you carried her child, how to tell her? You suddenly worried about her reaction, close to panic but before your mind will make you freak out you decided to make a test first and then you will have to figure something out.

Thankfully Jinx wasn’t in her hideout today, she went out to probably blow something up again. You always had to worry about her when she wasn’t around but right now you were glad she wasn’t home so you could do the test without her knowing and just how you thought, it was positive. „Fuck…“ You cursed under your breath, feeling a little overwhelmed. Of course you were happy since having a family with your girlfriend was your biggest dream. But so sudden? It just made you think about a lot of stuff like are you even ready for it? Is Jinx ready for it? Will she be happy? Or will she be upset? You didn’t know since you never talked about that topic before.

One thing was clear. You had to tell her. Jinx already blamed herself for not treating you right anymore to explain your behavior. You noticed her anxiety getting worse these days but now you had a valid explanation for your latest behavior. Maybe that would calm her down and stop blaming herself?

There was not much time of thinking about how to explain to Jinx as you heard her walking into the hideout, a happy smile on her face as she catched your sight, you quickly hiding the test behind your back, wishing you already removed it and didn’t stare at it all the time while having a little discussion with your own mind about the result. „Hey toots!!“ She said with her usual wuirky behaviour you loved so much but she did notice you hid something behind your back. „What ya hiding there?“ She asked and you began to blush deeply, not being able to find the right words or to speak at all. „I-…“ You started but she cut you off by snatching it out of your hand. Why did you hide it anyways? You knew Jinx was too fast for you to even react when she tried to get it out your hands.

Her eyes widened when she saw what you were hiding, not knowing how to react. You bit down on your own lower lip, feeling nervous, scared she would be upset. „You are…“ She started, looking into your eyes with a soft gaze, you only nod in response which was enough for the blue haired girl to freak out but in a positive way. „Oh my god! My girl is pregnant!“ She squealed, being all jumpy and giggly, talking to herself about all the things she wants to do and build as she paced around the hideout before she stopped right in front of you, placing a lot of soft kisses on your lips. „I love you so much!“ She said in between the kisses before pulling back to look into your eyes again, you felt so relieved. „Jinx…are you happy?“ You asked just in case as if her reaction wasn’t enough. „Are you kidding me?! I am! I am the happiest my love!“ She reassured you, taking your hands in hers as she gently rubbed them with her thumbs. „I-I know I am chaotic and I know the things I do are weird and dangerous, making me question if I can do this right but…but I want it! I wanna take care of you both and make sure you will always feel loved.“

Her words made you feel so soft. You didn’t expect her to be this passionate about that topic but you loved it. You loved her. Her eyes got a little watery, the more she realised it, the more emotional she got. „I-I thought I did something wrong. I thought you stopped loving me but…but the real reason you behaved like this…it’s such a beautiful reason.“ Jinx voice was very soft and a little shaky as she let tears of happiness run down her cheeks and so did you. You couldn’t hold back your own emotions anymore as well, feeling so happy as well that she wasn’t upset about it. „I could never stop loving you…how could you even think that?“ You asked but in return she just kissed you again, this time more deeper and passionately as she made you lay down on your back. Right now she just wanted to feel you and give you her love, her tongue moving inside your mouth, making you gasp softly in return.

Both of you felt aroused by the deep kissing, your hormones being all over the place made you feel hornier than usual so it was obvious you wanted her and you showed it as your hands gently pulled on her pants, making her smirk into the kiss. „Heh…you want me don’t you?“ She hummed and you nodded. „Yes…yes please I need you.“ You almost beg for her to fuck you and of course she won’t deny you.

It didn’t took you long to be all over each other again, her marking your body with kisses and little gentle bites while her cock moved inside of you, her pace being slower than usual, making you chuckle a little. She must do that on purpose which was cute. „Hnn…you know you can go faster do you?“ She looked down at you with a soft gaze, you knew she didn’t want to do anything wrong but you reassured her. Jinx behavior was just so sweet. „Ah…yes I know of course.“ She said but you knew she was being careful now because she knew you were pregnant. After your reassurance she thrusted faster inside of you as she held your hips gently, going deeper as usual, losing herself into the pleasure just like you. Both of you being a moaning mess. „Fuck…I am close…“ She moaned out and you kept her close to you by wrapping your legs around her waist, making sure she won’t pull out. „M-me too…cum inside me please.“ You whined, her hips didn’t stop moving, moaning out loudly when she came and at the same time you reached your orgasm as well, feeling her fill you up with her cum, making both of you feel so good.

Both of you panted softly, her leaning down to kiss you again so lovingly. „You make me the happiest…“ She whispered. „And you make me the happiest.“ You answered with a soft smile, caressing her cheek as you both looked into each others eyes with so much love.

(Fluff bonus)

„Hey that tickles!“ You giggle softly as Jinx painted little hearts and other little cute stuff on your baby bump. „What? You’re my beautiful canvas.“ She teased by sticking her tongue out, a giggle leaving her own lips. She just loved doing these sweet little things with you.

„Who knows maybe our little one will be as creative as you?“ You mentioned, making Jinx smile more. „Maybe who knows?“ She answered before leaning down to place a kiss on your tummy and then nuzzling close to it. „I love both of you so so much you don’t even know…“ Her words so soft, almost like a whisper as she stayed close to you. „And we love you. Always and forever.“ You gently caressed her beautiful blue hair, making her smile as she closed her eyes and eventually feeling your little one kicking for the first time.

[jhyoos]

REBEL GIRL

Chapter 4: Ugh! As If!

rockstar!sevika x influencer!reader

summary: reader has to suffer the consequences of her actions.

mentions: modern au, fame au, drama, swearing, mommy caitlyn, groping, kissing, neck biting and kissing, drunk truth or dare.

notes : drafts somehow deleted…and I didn’t back it up so im writing off of hopes and dreams. love yall 🫵❤️🎸

chapters : one, two, three, four

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room as you made your way to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. The hot water cascaded down your body, soothing the lingering tension from the previous night’s chaos. You hummed softly to yourself, allowing the steam and the scent of your vanilla body wash to envelop you.

As you rinsed off, faint noises from the room outside caught your attention. You figured it was Caitlyn moving around, likely getting ready for her own day. Brushing it off, you continued to enjoy the quiet moment of solitude.

After about half an hour, you stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed, your skin soft and glistening from the lotion you’d applied. A fluffy towel was wrapped securely around you as you walked back into the room, ready to pick out an outfit for the day.

Your peace was short-lived when you noticed someone sitting on your side of the bed. It wasn’t Caitlyn.

“Oh…it’s you,” you said flatly, your tone dripping with irritation as you recognized Sevika lounging on the mattress like she owned it.

She smirked, leaning back slightly, her arms crossed as she watched you. “Good morning to you, too.”

Ignoring her, you made your way to the closet, pulling out your luggage to sift through your clothes. You crouched carefully, mindful of the towel wrapped around you. You knew Sevika was probably watching, and you weren’t about to give her any kind of show.

When you finally found something to wear, you stood up and placed the outfit on the bed. Turning, you noticed Sevika’s eyes still fixed on you, her gaze unrelenting.

“What the fuck do you want?” you snapped, annoyance clear in your voice.

Sevika let out a dramatic sigh, shifting to make herself more comfortable on your side of the bed. “An apology,” she said simply, her tone laced with mock seriousness. “My phone’s been blowing up all morning because of you. Maybe a little…gesture of goodwill would help. Head sounds like a great place to start.”

You glared at her, utterly unamused. “Ugh, as if!” you shot back. “And honestly, you should be happy you’re getting so much recognition. Free publicity.”

Sevika raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed. “Fine. How about this? I’ll buy you food as an apology, and I’ll take care of debunking everything. Happy now?”

She regarded you with a skeptical expression, her eyebrow arching even higher. “Food? It better be something expensive. I’m sure a girl with a four-million-dollar net worth can figure that out.”

You froze, staring at her in disbelief. “Oh my gosh! You stalker…what the fuck? You’ve been looking me up?”

Sevika smirked, standing and stretching as she made her way toward the door. “Yeah. And your dating history, too. You’ve got pretty good taste. Might text one of them later.”

Your jaw dropped. “You—!”

Before you could finish, she opened the door and stepped out, narrowly dodging the pillow you hurled at her.

Her laughter echoed in the hallway as you stood there fuming, shaking your head. “Unbelievable,” you muttered under your breath, already regretting offering to buy her anything.

But as much as she got under your skin, you couldn’t ignore the faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips. Something about Sevika’s audacity was maddeningly entertaining, even if you’d never admit it.

After pulling on your outfit and styling your hair into something effortlessly simple, you grabbed your phone and sat down on the edge of the bed. The articles and posts about you and Sevika were still fresh in your mind, and you knew your manager was probably seconds away from blowing a gasket if you didn’t address the rumors.

You needed a tweet that was professional enough to appease your manager but also blunt enough to shut everyone else up. It took you a moment to think before your fingers began typing.

“Me and Sevika are just friends. If I’m in a relationship, I would’ve already confirmed it by now. Get off my dick and leave my friends alone.”

You reread it once, nodded in approval, and hit “Post.” Within seconds, the tweet was blowing up. Likes, retweets, and comments flooded in, most of them praising your straightforwardness.

(y/n)smaingf: This is why I love her LMAO

viseye: Ugh…I was in the middle of fanart about y’all

sevileftnut: Ya know what…Hell yeah!

You decided not to scroll too much further—no point in diving into the cesspool of opinions. Tossing your phone onto the bed, you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, ready to start the day.

When you got downstairs, the group was already waiting for you in the lobby. Caitlyn leaned against a pillar, her arms crossed, while the others stood or sat around, all wearing smug expressions that immediately annoyed you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Vi smirked. “We saw the tweet.”

“And?” you asked, exasperated.

“You’re treating us to free food, obviously,” Sevika chimed in, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the wall. Her smirk was just as infuriating as the rest of them.

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. Free food for everyone. Happy now?”

A cheer went up from the group as you pinched the bridge of your nose, already regretting your generosity. “Can someone at least order the Uber, please?”

Jinx raised a hand. “I guess I’ll do it.” She pulled out her phone and started tapping away.

Caitlyn nudged your shoulder. “You’ve got a way with words,” she said with a small smile.

You shrugged. “Someone had to say it.”

As you waited for the Uber, you dug into your bag and pulled out your mini vlog camera, the familiar weight of it a comforting tool for killing time. “While we wait, let’s make some content, please?” you said, flashing a quick smile as you powered it on. The red recording light blinked on as you turned the lens toward the group, framing yourself and everyone else in the background.

Fixing your hair in the little camera screen, you caught Sevika rolling her eyes in the reflection. “Aye, I can see you, Sev,” you said, turning your head to glare at her playfully.

Sevika leaned back against the wall with her arms crossed, her expression unimpressed. “Hurry up already, princess. The Uber’s gonna be here any minute.”

You ignored her impatient tone with a dramatic sigh, pressing the record button. “Hey, you guys!” you said in your most cheerful voice, pointing the camera at yourself. “Guess what? We’re heading to Five Guys, and I’m paying. This is my charity for the day—I’m feeding starving artists.” You smiled mischievously at the camera before panning it to the band behind you.

The group groaned collectively at your teasing. Jinx leaned into the shot with a smirk. “You do know it’s 1 v 4, right? You’re outnumbered.”

Without missing a beat, you fired back, “Oh, please. I can take you all at once.”

The air froze for a second before Vi raised an eyebrow and burst out laughing. “Woah, that sounded wrong.”

“Oh my god, you freak!” you shouted, clutching your chest dramatically as if offended. The others joined in with their laughter, the sound of it filling the parking lot and making the moment feel more alive.

“Cut the camera, Y/N,” Caitlyn teased, nudging you gently. “Before this vlog turns into a comedy special.”

You shrugged. “Hey, this is pure gold. The fans will love it.”

Sevika, still leaning against the wall, muttered, “Yeah, great. Let them see you lose your mind before dinner.”

“Sev, the only thing I’m losing is patience with your attitude,” you quipped, spinning the camera toward her. She glared at you half-heartedly, but you caught the faintest twitch of amusement in her lips.

Just as you were about to retort, the Uber pulled up to the curb. “Saved by the ride,” Vi joked, pointing to the black SUV.

You turned off the camera, tucking it back into your bag. “Alright, let’s go, starving artists. The food awaits.”

Sevika brushed past you as the group piled into the car, her hand grazing your lower back in a way that felt both accidental and deliberate. “After you, princess,” she said, her voice dripping with mock politeness.

You rolled your eyes, climbing into the back seat. “One of these days, Sev, you’re gonna wish you were nicer to me.”

“Doubt it,” she shot back, settling into her seat. The banter continued as the car pulled into traffic, and you couldn’t help but smirk, already anticipating how the night would unfold.

The ride back from Five Guys was anything but quiet. The car was filled with laughter, teasing, and the occasional groan of someone who had eaten too much. Vi leaned back in her seat, hands on her stomach, a satisfied grin on her face. “Alright,” she announced, “I think I’ve had enough carbs to fuel me for the entire night. I’m officially ready to party.”

Jinx, sitting beside her, raised her hand like she was in class. “I second that! We’re hitting the club tonight, and I’m not holding back.” She leaned forward, grinning at everyone else.

You, however, were still half-reclined in your seat, your head resting against the window as you groaned. “Y’all really have that much energy after all that food? I need at least two naps before even considering going out again.”

As the car pulled up to the hotel, Caitlyn suddenly turned to you, her voice firm. “Not so fast, (Y/N). You’re not going anywhere tonight.” You froze, blinking at her in confusion.

“What? Why?”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “Because last night was a disaster waiting to happen, and I’m not about to have you causing chaos again.”

The group laughed, but Caitlyn’s expression remained serious, leaving you groaning in protest as everyone else headed up to get ready.

Minutes later, you found yourself sprawled across the bed in your shared room, flipping through channels with one hand and scrolling your phone with the other. The TV droned on about some crime show you weren’t really paying attention to, but it was better than sitting in silence. You huffed in frustration, tossing your phone aside, just as the door creaked open.

“I thought I was locked in,” you said dryly, not bothering to glance up. You assumed it was Caitlyn coming to check on you.

“Guess I’ve got the key,” came a familiar, low drawl.

Your head snapped up to see Sevika leaning casually against the doorframe, her arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. She was dressed down compared to her usual style, wearing a loose black shirt and jeans. The relaxed look somehow made her even more infuriating.

“What do you want?” you muttered, sulking deeper into the bed.

She shrugged and strolled in, letting the door click shut behind her. “I’m putting myself in time-out too,” she said nonchalantly. “No one’s allowed to have fun without me.” She plopped into the chair near the bed, slouching back as if she owned the place.

You stared at her for a moment, debating whether you wanted company. But as the TV continued to drone on, you sighed, realizing it beat being bored alone. “Fine. If you’re staying, we’re making this interesting.”

Her eyebrow quirked as she watched you sit up, reaching for your suitcase. From its depths, you pulled out a bottle of whiskey, your secret stash for nights like these. You placed it on the nightstand with a sense of finality, grabbing two glasses.

Sevika’s smirk deepened as she leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Drinking truth or dare?” she asked, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Exactly,” you said, pouring the amber liquid into both glasses before sliding one her way. “Unless you’re scared to play.”

“Scared?” She scoffed, picking up her glass. “You don’t know me at all, princess.”

The game began innocently enough. Sevika dared you to do a horrible celebrity impression, which resulted in a laugh so loud it made her throw her head back. In retaliation, you dared her to sing a verse from a Taylor Swift, and the sound of her gruff voice struggling through the high notes of Lover left you in tears from laughter.

“Alright, truth,” she said after finishing her whiskey, her cheeks faintly flushed.

You grinned mischievously. “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done on stage?”

Sevika groaned, her hand rubbing the back of her neck. “I ripped my pants. Front and back. In front of a packed crowd.”

You burst into laughter, nearly spilling your drink. “No way!”

“Swear on it. And I had to play the rest of the set like that,” she admitted, her voice tinged with both embarrassment and pride.

“Legendary,” you said, raising your glass to her.

When it was your turn, Sevika leaned forward, her smirk widening. “Dare,” you said confidently.

“I dare you to prank call your manager,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket and sliding it over to you.

You grinned as you dialed her number, lowering your voice to imitate a stiff, formal tone. “Hello, this is Officer Jenkins with the local police department. We’ve received a complaint about you being a raging bitch. We got a warrant for your arrest.”

The sound of Lauren’s confused, half-asleep voice on the other end made Sevika snort with laughter. “(Y/N)…I’m not about to play wit—”

By the time you hung up, both of you were doubled over, Sevika clutching her sides.

As the dares and truths became bolder, the atmosphere started to shift. You dared Sevika to share her type, and her answer—“someone bold, someone who doesn’t back down”—came with a pointed look that left your cheeks warm.

“I’m not gonna lie…sounds like you’re describing yourself,” you teased, earning a low chuckle from her.

“Maybe I am,” she admitted, her gaze steady, almost daring you to break eye contact.

When your turn came, you chose dare, feeling emboldened by the whiskey warming your veins.

Sevika leaned forward, a lazy smirk spreading across her lips. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

Your breath hitched, your cheeks heating, but you weren’t about to back down. “Fine,” you said, standing and walking toward her with as much confidence as you could muster.

Lowering yourself onto her lap, you felt her hands rest lightly on your waist. Her touch was casual, yet it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Comfortable?” she asked, her voice low, her breath warm against your ear.

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she replied, her eyes never leaving yours.

You leaned in closer, your faces inches apart, your lips hovering just shy of hers. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Sevika didn’t hesitate. Her hands tightened on your waist as she closed the gap between you, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Her movements were deliberate, her lips soft but insistent, making your pulse race.

The kiss deepened, her tongue brushing against yours with a confidence that left you breathless. Her hands slid under your shirt, her fingertips grazing your bare skin, sending a thrill through you.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging lightly as her lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck, leaving a heated path of kisses that made you arch into her. She gave you one last kiss on your collarbone before finding your lips again.

Her mechanical hand slid lower, gripping your ass firmly as she shifted you on her lap, pulling you even more against her. The other hand, far from idle, slid under your shirt. Her fingers, rough yet somehow gentle, brushed over your bare skin, grazing your ribcage, going under your bra before boldly cupping your breast. Her thumb flicked over your nipple, sending a jolt of heat straight through your body.

You gasped against her mouth, your hands tangling more in her hair as the kiss deepened. Her tongue swept into your mouth, teasing and dominating in equal measure, leaving you completely breathless. You arched into her touch, your body responding to her as if it had been waiting for this moment. She pulled away and found your neck again, this time leaving love bites.

“Sevika,” you moaned breathlessly, barely managing her name as her teeth grazed your skin.

“Shh,” she murmured against your neck, her lips returning to yours in a kiss that made you forget everything—until the door swung open with a loud creak.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Caitlyn’s voice was sharp, cutting through the haze like a bucket of cold water.

You scrambled off Sevika’s lap, your shirt hastily tugged back into place as you turned to see Caitlyn standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of disbelief and exasperation. You were immediately sobered up.

Sevika, by contrast, remained unbothered, lounging back in her chair with her usual smirk firmly intact. “We were bonding,” she said lazily, her tone dripping with amusement.

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, setting her bag on the table. “If this is bonding, I’d hate to see what happens when you two don’t get along.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is all your fault,” you muttered toward Sevika.

Sevika chuckled, leaning closer to you, her voice low and teasing. “Didn’t hear you complaining.”

You shot her a glare, though the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed your annoyance. Caitlyn shook her head, muttering something about “never getting a break” as she climbed into her bed.

You grabbed Sevika by her arm, pulling her out of the chair and pushed her towards the door. “It’s time for you to go, Sev,” you said.

“Awe, but we were having so much fun,” she teased turning towards you, getting closer along with her face.

You immediately stopped her, putting a hand on your chest. “To be continued…maybe,” you said as you opened the door, gesturing for her to leave.

“I’ll take your word on that,” she added in quickly before leaving.

You climbed into bed beside Caitlyn, still feeling the heat of embarrassment from earlier. As you pulled the covers over yourself, you glanced at her. “Are you mad at me?” you asked softly.

Caitlyn let out a long groan, turning her head to look at you. “No. I mean… at least you’re standing by what you said last night.”

Her words made your stomach drop. “Oh, shit,” you muttered, sitting up slightly. “I talked about her while I was drunk? What did I even say?”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Something about her being annoyingly hot and how you wanted to fuck her so bad. Seems like you were in the process of it.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but Caitlyn wasn’t done. Her eyes zeroed in on your neck, and her smirk widened. “Speaking of… how long were you two going at it? You’ve got two huge hickeys on your neck.”

Your eyes snapped open, and you sat up abruptly. “What?!” You scrambled for your phone, turning on the front camera to inspect the damage.

Sure enough, there they were—two dark, unmistakable marks standing out against your skin. “Jesus,” you muttered in disbelief, your fingers brushing over the spots as if that would make them disappear.

Caitlyn chuckled, leaning back against the headboard. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to lecture you about keeping things professional. But just so you know, I’m giving you side-eye for the rest of the trip.”

You flopped back onto your pillow, staring at the ceiling. “This can’t get any worse,” you muttered.

Caitlyn shot you a look. “Don’t jinx it.”

taglist : @whatlefoop @nonexistentsourcherry @graciebloom @swordfemm4 @m00npjm @sevikasleftarm @fayecreates @mulan-but-gay @inlovewithsevikaandambessa @sapphiellar @artfairyyyyy

[nerokoma]

heads up! — winning either way (29/30)

1k wc

The walk to the convenience store was silent.

When Kuroo showed up in front of your hotel to come pick you up, no words had been exchanged between the two of you. The only interaction you had shared was a single, brief glance as you exited the building. He had tilted his head to motion for you to follow him, and despite all the questions burning inside you, you complied. 

Like deja vu, you found yourself sitting on the curb once more, your shadow illuminated by the bright lights of the store behind you. Kuroo sat beside you, staring off into space with a distant look in his eyes that gave you no comfort whatsoever. You wanted to speak up, ask him what was on his mind, but you knew this was something he had to start himself. And it was clear that he knew it too, which was why he was spending so much time organizing his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I acted.” 

You blinked, glancing over at the boy as his eyes were glued to the ground.

“It was wrong of me to just leave so suddenly without telling you why, and even worse I left you out here all by yourself. It was such a selfish thing for me to do, and I’m just really glad that you’re safe.” A sigh escaped the boy’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “It’s just- I shouldn’t even be upset because I’m the one who asked about it, but when you told me that story about how you used to like Daichi, and you were giving him so much love and praise, something inside me just…broke.” 

You nodded slowly. Although the information he was providing was nothing new, hearing the words come directly from Kuroo’s mouth gave you a completely different feeling than before. You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your face.

“You were…jealous.”

The boy let out a single, humourless chuckle. 

“I couldn’t figure out why it bothered me so much that you were praising your friend. Ever since we met, you haven’t been shy when expressing your love for others.” When you glanced over, Kuroo’s expression had dropped. He remained silent for a moment, lost in thought. “Eventually, I realized it was because a part of me wanted all that love for myself.” 

“Kuroo…” Your eyes widened slightly as he lifted his head, making eye contact with you for the second time that night. 

“I really like you, Y/N,” he confessed. “And you don’t have to reciprocate, but you deserve to know why I did what I did. I know it doesn’t excuse my actions whatsoever, and I’ll spend as much time as it takes to make it up to you because you deserve someone who will always treat you with respect and look out for you no matter what–”

“Kuroo,” you said, cutting the boy’s rambling short. He immediately stopped, staring at you with wide eyes. “Things don’t usually come easily for me. School, becoming a manager, even making friends isn’t always easy. I mean, remember how we first met?”

Kuroo’s face glowed a faint shade of pink as he nodded, a small smile making its way onto his face as the memories flooded back.

“When we started talking, I was surprised at how fast we became friends. Everything felt so…natural. Like I could talk to you about anything.” You looked away as your face heated up. “So when I realized that I started to catch feelings, I was afraid of ruining what we had already established. And considering how much our lives are going to change in the next couple months, I didn’t want to destroy one of the few things that brought me comfort.”

Kuroo stared at you with a blank expression, and you could almost see the gears in his head turning as he processed what you’d just said. 

“You like me?” 

You covered your face in embarrassment for a moment before giving a quick nod.

“Yes, Kuroo. I like you.” 

The moment those words left your mouth, a massive grin broke out across Kuroo’s face. His body shook in excitement, which he quickly got under control as he let out a cough and cleared his throat. This made you giggle, only causing the smile to return to the boy’s face.

“I can’t promise that things will be easy,” Kuroo said. “We live hours away and we’re both graduating, but the thought of being with you makes me so happy that I’m willing to try and make it work.” He shook his head. “Not willing, I want to make it work. If you do, of course.” 

You made eye contact with him, your smile practically reaching your eyes as you nodded. “I want to make it work too.”

Kuroo stood up and brushed himself off, extending his hand toward you. 

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honour of accompanying me on a date?” 

You tapped your index finger on your chin as you pretended to contemplate his words. “I don’t know…I think I’ll have to see how tomorrow’s match turns out before making that decision.” You let out a small hum. “How about this: if Nekoma wins tomorrow, you can take me out on a date.” 

“I’m ok with that,” he said with a nod. “And if Karasuno wins, I get to take you out on a date.” 

You narrowed your eyes at the boy. “Aren’t those the same things?”

Kuroo only shrugged as a smirk spread across his face, the same cheeky expression you’d grown accustomed to and missed in the last couple interactions you’d had. “Are they?” 

Grinning, you reached for his outstretched hand and took it, allowing him to help you up off the ground. 

“Well Mr. Kuroo Tetsurou, you have yourself a deal.” The two of you shook hands as you came face to face with him, his bright red face fully on display and illuminated by the store’s lights. You tilted your head curiously. “Why are you blushing so much?”

Kuroo looked away, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. 

“That’s uh, that’s the first time you’ve said it- said my name.” 

Your eyebrows raised at him. Nekoma’s fearless captain, reduced to a blushing, stuttering mess in front of you. The sight was quite amusing.

“Would you like me to say it more often, Tetsurou?” 

Kuroo closed his eyes, letting out a sigh as he extended his arm slightly.

“You wanna get ice cream? I’m really craving some right about now.” 

Giggling, you nodded, following the boy as he led you into the convenience store, fingers interlaced as you stepped inside. 

kuroo’s got his priorities straight: make the battle at the garbage dump happen, win nationals, go to university, and maybe win the heart of the rival team’s cute manager along the way. 

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[focusonkayjay]

Wildly Wealthy Koreans (6); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

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

Word Count: 11.9k+

Chapter Warnings: protected sex, oral (m. and f. receiving), conversations and scenes directly taken from the movie, mentions of culture, traditions etc, subtle self-racist comment (originally said by peik lin from the movie), mentions of affair, whistleblowing, background check. (lmk if i missed anything)

A/N: okay i loved writing this part so much, mainly because i had to rewatch the movie again and make a note of all the dialogues i wanted to use. Y/N AND JUNGKOOK ARE SOSOOSOSOS IN LOVE THEY'RE MAKING ME SICK OMGMGMG. i had to pause every time i had to write a fluffy scene because honestly, ME WHENNNNN. sorry, i'm just lonely and i wish i had a man like nick young or jungkook. anyways, i hope you like this part !! stay tuned for more <3

part 6

"You will never be enough."

The words reverberate like a broken record in Jungkook’s mind, gnawing at him from the inside, sharp and unyielding. His stomach churns as his thoughts are consumed by the memory of your mother’s cold, piercing gaze... the eerie, almost predatory smile that never quite reached her eyes... her low voice, slicing through him with the precision of a blade. It’s all he can hear, all he can feel.

"You will never be enough."

He had always known... ever since he stepped into your world, ever since he met your mother for the first time, that she didn’t approve of him. But to hear it from her lips, spoken directly to him, was a blow that shattered every ounce of self-worth he had left.

"You will never be enough."

It felt personal, like every word was aimed at him, carving into his chest. The way she scrutinized him with such disdain, as though deeming him unworthy of your love. Her words were clear... He would never measure up. He would never be truly worthy to love you.

"You will never be enough."

His throat tightens as he swallows, his jaw clenching involuntarily. The words echo on loop in his mind, relentless and cruel. He just can’t escape them.

"You will never be eno—"

"Baby, are you even listening to me?" Your voice suddenly slices through the storm in his mind. Jungkook snaps his head towards you, his gaze meeting yours as you sit beside him, confusion flickering in your eyes. Your hands grip the steering wheel, steady and calm, a contrast to the chaos in his head.

In an instant, the world around him comes rushing back. The smell of your car, the soft hum of the engine, the lingering traffic weaving through the streets.

"Is everything okay?" You chuckle at his expression, glancing at him before returning your focus to the road. "You were zoned out." You say softly, your voice warm, but still laced with concern. Jungkook takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he leans back against the passenger seat.

After making dumplings with your family, you had suggested that the two of you should do something together to spend your time here, in Daegu. So now, he finds himself in your car, driving to a destination unknown to him. You told him it was a surprise.

"Nothing... I... I was just thinking about where we're headed." Jungkook murmurs, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. He forces himself to meet your gaze, hoping the storm inside him doesn't show through the cracks.

The memory of your mother’s scornful words claws at him, but he fights to push it down, to bury it deep where it can’t touch him now.

You, blissfully unaware of the silent battle he’s waging, laugh softly, your voice like a soothing balm to his fractured thoughts. "It’s a surprise, cutie." you tease, your eyes crinkling with mischief as you wink at him.

Your foot presses down on the accelerator, and the car surges forward, the playful smile on your lips making Jungkook’s heart ache with adoration. He mirrors your smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

The cityscape unfolds around him, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. Shades of orange and pink streak the sky like an artist’s masterpiece, but Jungkook barely notices.

The vivid memory of your mother’s piercing gaze and the cruel edge of her voice replay in his mind, over and over. He shakes his head lightly, trying to focus on the present, on you, and the mystery of this surprise you’ve planned.

Minutes pass, and the car finally comes to a smooth stop in front of an imposing building. Jungkook’s brows knit together as he gazes up at the towering structure, its sleek glass exterior reflecting the fiery hues of the sunset.

His lips part slightly, confusion etched across his face. "What... what is this place?" he asks, his voice laced with curiosity. You simply unbuckle your seatbelt, a sly smile playing on your lips. "Just follow me." you say, slipping out of the car.

The valet greets you warmly, taking your keys as you take Jungkook’s hand, your fingers lacing through his as you lead him towards the grand entrance.

Inside, the lobby is breathtaking. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the space, illuminating polished marble floors and opulent decor. The air carries a faint scent of jasmine and vanilla, luxurious and inviting.

You don’t pause to check in by the reception and simply walk towards the elevator, your steps light and confident. Jungkook follows, his curiosity piqued despite himself. "Baby, where are we going?" he asks as you step into the elevator and press the button for the highest floor.

"You’ll see." you reply with a playful giggle, looping your arm through his and leaning your head lightly against his shoulder. Your cheeky smile makes his heart stutter, momentarily silencing the insecurities clawing at him.

Despite everything, you’re here with him, planning something just for him. He clings to that thought, letting it steady him.

The elevator dings softly as it reaches the top floor. The doors slide open, revealing a dimly lit corridor that leads to an open-air rooftop. The cool evening breeze brushes against Jungkook’s skin as you guide him outside.

His breath catches as his eyes instantly fall on the scene before him. At the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the glittering city lights, is a table for two, draped in white linen and adorned with flickering candles.

Twinkling fairy lights are strung around the railings nearby, casting a warm, ethereal glow over the setting. Delicate petals of red and white roses are scattered across the table and the ground around it, creating a pathway that leads to the intimate setup.

Jungkook’s lips part in awe as he takes in the scene, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. You tug on his hand gently, drawing him closer to the table. "Do you like it?" you ask, your voice soft and hopeful, your eyes searching his for a reaction.

Jungkook’s gaze shifts from the breathtaking setup to you, his heart clenching at the sight of your radiant smile. For a moment, the weight of your mother’s words fades into the background, eclipsed by the warmth of your presence.

"I love it." he immediately says, his voice thick with emotion. And as you pull out a chair for him, he sits down, feeling, for the first time in hours, a glimmer of peace.

Here, with you, beneath the slowly emerging stars, he allows himself to believe—if only for a fleeting moment—that he might just be enough.

Once he's seated, you walk around the table with a grace that has his heart skipping a beat as you take your seat opposite to him, the golden glow of the candles casting warm shadows across your face.

"I arranged this as a way... to thank you." you say softly, leaning forward to take his hands into yours. "For what?" he asks, tilting his head slightly, his soft eyes searching yours. "Thank you for coming here with me." you begin, your voice gentle but earnest.

"I know it hasn’t been easy for you. Meeting my family, enduring all those formal events, dealing with Wooyoung..." His fingers twitch slightly at the mention of the name, and you pause, your thumb brushing over his knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

"You’ve handled so much, Kook." you continue, your voice dipping lower, more intimate. "I know it’s been overwhelming, and yet, you’ve been nothing but kind and patient. You’ve been so amazing, even when things got... complicated." You smile softly, and Jungkook's lips curve into a matching expression.

"You don’t have to thank me, baby." he murmurs. "I’m glad I’m here with you. Being by your side, spending time with you... it’s everything I could ever want." He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles, and you can’t help but blush.

"I love you." he whispers, his voice barely audible, but you catch every word as if it were etched into the night. "I love you too." you reply, your gaze soft and unwavering.

The world fades for a moment, leaving only the two of you, the city lights twinkling in the distance like a million silent witnesses to your love.

The moment lingers, perfect and serene, until your eyes widen suddenly with excitement. "Oh! There’s something else." you exclaim, breaking the silence as you pull your hands away and slide your chair slightly back.

Jungkook watches you, confusion flickering in his eyes as you bend down, your hand disappearing under the linen-draped table. You pull out a box from underneath the table, wrapped in silver paper as you grin widely at him.

"What’s this?" he asks, his brows furrowing as you push the box towards him. "Just open it." you say with a giggle, motioning for him to unwrap the gift.

He carefully peels back the wrapping, his fingers delicate as if the gift might shatter in his hands. When the paper falls away, revealing the box beneath, his breath catches. His eyes widen as they land on the unmistakable logo and the words printed across the surface.

"No way..." he whispers, disbelief coloring his tone. He looks up at you, his lips parted in astonishment. "You... you got me a camera?"

You nod, your smile growing as you watch his reaction. "Not just any camera." you tease. "The latest model. I did my research, Mr. Photographer."

Jungkook’s hands shake slightly as he unboxes it, pulling out the glossy camera and turning it over in his hands like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever touched. His fingers move instinctively, adjusting the lens, checking the buttons, his photographer's instincts kicking in.

"Babe..." he says softly, his voice tinged with awe. "This is incredible. But..." He trails off, looking at you with those wide doe eyes that make your heart melt. "This is so so expensive... how can I accept this? You really didn’t have to—"

"This is the least I could do, Kook." you interject, leaning forward, your voice carrying both playfulness and affection. "Especially after that idiot Wooyoung broke your camera." you say, your nose scrunching in slight anger. "I know you have other cameras, but I really wanted to gift you one and make up for what that asshole did." you say.

Jungkook’s eyes glisten as he processes your words, the weight of your thoughtfulness settling in his chest. He sets the camera down carefully and reaches for your hands again. "Baby..." he says, his voice trembling slightly.

"I don’t even know what to say. This... this means everything to me. Thank you... Thank you so much." His words are sincere, but they feel inadequate for the gratitude he truly feels.

So instead, he stands up and leans across the table, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you. It’s soft and slow, his lips lingering against yours as if trying to pour all the emotions he can’t put into words, into that one kiss.

When he pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and his smile is radiant, the earlier heaviness in his heart completely erased. "I love you so much." he whispers, his eyes shining as the reflections of the lights and the candles glimmer in his eyes.

"I love you too." you reply, smiling at him. And as the city sparkles under you and the candles flicker between you, both of you know that this moment... this love, is all that matters.

//

Jungkook's eyes widen as you nonchalantly pull a keycard from your pocket after the waiter clears the table. He stares at you, disbelief etched on his face. "No way... you booked a room?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe.

You smirk, leaning forward slightly, your tone playful and dripping with mischief. "You really thought the night was going to end with just dinner?" You arch an eyebrow at him, and the teasing glint in your eyes has his heart racing.

Jungkook chuckles, running a hand through his hair as he leans back in his chair. His lips curl into a warm, affectionate smile as he shakes his head. "You’re full of surprises tonight, aren’t you?"

Without missing a beat, you stand, extending your hand towards him, your grin widening. "Come on, We don’t have time to waste." you urge. His laughter fills the space as he picks up the camera box in one hand, letting his other hand intertwine with yours.

"You’re about to have the hottest, steamiest, mind boggling sex of your life." you exaggerate, throwing a playful wink over your shoulder as you tug him towards the elevator.

The second the elevator doors slide shut after you press the number of the floor your suite is located on, you waste no time. With a confident step forward, you push him gently against the cool elevator wall, your lips crashing onto his in a kiss so intense it leaves him momentarily stunned.

His breath hitches, his grip instinctively tightening on the camera box. But within moments, he responds, one hand sliding down to your waist, holding you close as he surrenders to the fiery passion between you.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and utterly knee-weakening. You tug lightly at his lower lip, and a soft groan escapes him, his free hand clutching your hip.

Time feels suspended, the air thick with heat and longing. His lips move against yours with fervor, matching your intensity, as if this moment is the only thing that matters. The ding of the elevator arriving on your floor pulls you both back to reality, though his dazed expression says he’s still lost in the kiss.

Licking your lips, you grin and take his hand again. "Come on." you whisper, your voice a blend of excitement and seduction as you drag him out of the elevator.

Jungkook follows silently, his heart pounding in his chest as you guide him down the softly lit corridor. The quiet elegance of the hallway feels almost surreal, but his focus is entirely on you... your determined stride, the sway of your hips, the way your hand fits perfectly in his.

When you stop in front of the door to your suite, you quickly swipe the keycard and push the door open, stepping inside with him close behind.

The suite is luxurious, with a breathtaking view of the city skyline, but neither of you pays it much attention. Jungkook sets the camera box carefully on the polished table near the door, and before he can say a word, his hands are already back on you, pulling you towards him as he plops down onto the edge of the plush bed.

You stand between his legs, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with affection and desire. Without hesitation, you lean down, wrapping your arms around his neck and capturing his lips in another kiss.

This one is slower, deeper, yet no less passionate. His hands glide up your sides, fingers splayed as if he’s trying to memorize every curve. Jungkook groans softly against your lips, his hands traveling to the small of your back as he pulls you closer.

His kiss is breathtaking, tender yet fervent, as if he’s pouring every ounce of love and longing into the connection. The gentle scrape of his teeth against your lower lip sends shivers down your spine, and your knees nearly buckle as his lips trail down to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"God, you’re incredible..." he murmurs, his voice low and husky, filled with awe. His words, combined with the warmth of his breath, make your heart race and your cheeks flush with heat.

You pull back slightly, just enough to catch his gaze. Your hands cradle his face as you smile down at him, your voice soft yet brimming with promise. "You haven’t seen anything yet..."

With methodical grace, you step back, slipping out of his hold. Your fingers find the hem of your top, and in one fluid motion, you pull it over your head, revealing the crimson lace beneath.

The delicate lingerie hugs your curves perfectly, the deep red contrasting beautifully against your skin, and Jungkook's breath hitches audibly. His gaze darkens, pupils blown wide as he drinks you in.

He shifts slightly, unable to mask the effect you have on him, his hands curling into tight fists against the soft mattress. "Like what you see?" you tease, your voice a tantalizing mix of sultry and playful.

Your fingers slowly glide down the column of your neck, before trailing over the swell of your breasts. Your thumb brushes over the delicate lace, accentuating the curves held within.

Jungkook swallows hard, his eyes tracing every inch of your figure with an intensity that makes your skin tingle. He leans back slightly as he remains seated on the bed, propped on his hands, utterly entranced by the sight before him.

You bite your lip, and reach for the hem of your skirt. You take your time, sliding the fabric down and stepping out of it. Jungkook’s gaze lingers, fixated on the curve of your hips and the way the lace of your underwear hugs your form.

His restraint falters, his arousal evident as he shifts again, his erection straining against the confines of his pants, desperate to be freed.

Stepping closer, you stand between his legs again and this time, he’s quick to act, his hands gripping your hips, his fingertips pressing into your warm skin. "You’re so... so gorgeous." he breathes, his voice low and reverent, as he looks up at you like you're the most beautiful thing on this planet.

You lean down, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft but grows in urgency. His hands move instinctively, sliding to the curve of your ass and gripping the soft flesh, pulling you closer because close isn't just close enough for him.

Your fingers trail to the hem of his T-shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to peel it off him. You toss it carelessly onto the floor, your gaze drinking in the sight of his toned chest and sculpted abs. "Who allowed you to be this fine?" you murmur, your voice low and teasing, though it trembles slightly with the tension between you.

Jungkook smirks, a dark glint in his eyes as he tugs you closer, his hands firm on your waist. This time, his lips find your neck, trailing kisses that are slow and heated, his tongue tracing the delicate line of your collarbone. Your breath hitches as his mouth works its way down, sending sparks through your body.

You clutch his shoulders for support, your knees threatening to give out as his lips descend further. When he kisses the swell of your breasts through the lace of your bra, a shaky exhale escapes you.

"Who allowed you to be this gorgeous?" he counters, his voice husky, laced with desire. His teeth graze your skin as he nips lightly, leaving you breathless and pliant in his arms.

A soft whimper escapes your lips, and for a fleeting moment, you want to give in completely... let him have you right here, right now. But instead, you gently push yourself away from him, taking a shaky step back.

"Let me make you feel good." you whisper, the softness of your tone carrying a promise. You slowly drop to your knees with a smooth grace, the sight making Jungkook’s breath stop as his eyes widen, a flicker of surprise mixing with raw anticipation as he watches you gather your hair in one hand.

Without hesitation, he stands, his movements rushed, almost frantic, as he tugs his pants down and kicks them aside, not forgetting to retrieve the condom from his wallet and placing it on the mattress within reach. His impatience is palpable, every sharp breath and hurried motion conveying the intensity of his need for you.

When Jungkook slips off his boxers and sits back down, you can’t help but take a moment to admire him. His hardened length stands proudly, thick and veined, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. The sight alone makes your mouth water, anticipation pooling low in your belly.

Your hand moves instinctively, fingers curling delicately around his shaft as your thumb brushes over the bead of precum, smearing it across the sensitive tip.

Jungkook's reaction is immediate, primal... his chest rises sharply as he inhales, hips jerking forward slightly at the first touch of your hand. A low hiss escapes his lips, his lashes fluttering closed as if the sensation is almost too much to bear. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking slowly, as if savoring every inch of his heated skin.

When you lean in and your lips brush the tip of his length, he shudders. The warmth of your mouth engulfs him, and a deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest, raw and unrestrained. "Fuck, baby..." he rasps, the words spilling out like a confession, laced with both need and awe.

You tease him with languid licks, your tongue tracing the ridge of his tip before gliding down his shaft, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His hand instinctively finds your hair, gathering it back for you with a firm yet gentle grip.

The tension in his thighs is palpable under your palm as you steady yourself against him, your fingers digging into his skin. With the other hand, you wrap around his base, working in tandem with your mouth, your movements slow and unhurried, building the pressure like a symphony reaching its crescendo.

The wet sounds of your tongue, the rhythmic bob of your head, and his broken, breathy groans create a heady atmosphere. His hips twitch involuntarily, his body betraying his restraint as he mutters under his breath. "God, you feel so fucking good."

You hum softly, the vibration eliciting another throaty moan from him. His fingers tighten in your hair, not to control you, but as if anchoring himself against the storm of pleasure coursing through his body. Each movement of your mouth feels like it’s unraveling him piece by piece, leaving him utterly at your mercy.

You glance up at him through your lashes, the sight before you utterly intoxicating. Jungkook’s head is thrown back, his mouth slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly, each labored breath igniting a fire deep within you.

The way his body responds to your touch sends a rush of heat coursing through you, your arousal pooling between your thighs, your underwear undeniably damp as you fight the growing urge to touch yourself, to lose yourself in the sounds he’s making.

Spurred on by his reaction, you quicken your pace, your hand and mouth moving in perfect harmony. You take him deeper, testing your limits, each movement fueled by the soft, blissful groans spilling from his lips.

"Shit—" Jungkook groans, his voice raspier now, his grip on your hair tightening as his hips buck involuntarily. He’s losing himself, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure, his restraint slipping like sand through his fingers. His thigh tenses under your hand, the muscles flexing as his body reacts to your touch.

Your tongue swirls around his tip, savoring the taste of him before you hollow your cheeks and take him deeper, your hand pumping in time with the rhythm of your mouth.

"Fuck, baby, just like that..." he mutters, his voice thick and unsteady, every word a testament to how utterly undone he is. You quicken your movements further, the slide of your lips and the tight grip of your hand driving him closer to the edge.

His moans grow louder, more desperate, as he teeters on the brink. "God, you're gonna make me lose it." he chokes out, his eyes squeezing shut, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of what you're giving him.

You hum in response, the vibration sending a shudder through his body, and you feel him twitch against your tongue, his breaths coming faster, his body tightening, ready to unravel entirely in your hands.

Jungkook's voice is strained, rough with desire as his fingers tighten in your hair, gently pulling you back. "Stop..." he breathes out, his chest heaving, eyes dark and filled with an almost desperate intensity.

"If you keep going, I’m going to cum... and I can’t—" His voice trembling with urgency as his gaze locks onto yours. "I need to feel you, baby. I need to be inside you." The raw intensity in his words sends a shiver racing down your spine.

You release him slowly, your touch lingering on his thigh for a fleeting moment. Your eyes drink him in... the way his chest heaves with every labored breath, his hair damp and sticking messily to his forehead, and his lips, swollen and red from biting down in restraint.

Jungkook’s gaze drops to your glistening lips, the evidence of him clear, and his breath catches in his throat. The way you look up at him, your lashes framing your heavy-lidded eyes, is enough to make him lose control.

His gaze trails further down, taking in the rise and fall of your chest, your breasts drawing his attention with every shallow breath as you try to steady yourself.

"Then take me." you whisper, your voice soft but charged with the same urgency burning in his eyes. You rise to your feet, your fingers trailing up his thighs, then his chest, as you carefully straddle him. His hands find your hips instantly, holding you up.

"God..." he mutters, his head falling back momentarily as he adjusts you in his lap. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curve of your waist before they settle on your back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

His lips crash against yours, the kiss hungry and all-consuming, his need for you evident in every movement. His hands trail down your sides, slipping beneath the fabric of your underwear as his fingers press into the soft flesh of your hips.

You push yourself against him, kissing him with a fervor that leaves you both breathless. Your lips move together in a heated, desperate rhythm until Jungkook succumbs, falling back onto the mattress with you on top of him.

Your hips begin to grind against his hardened length, eliciting a soft moan from your lips that only spurs him on. His hands tighten around your hips, guiding your movements as his grip becomes possessive, almost needy.

Jungkook’s fingers wander, tracing a tantalizing path to your core. He slips them beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, his touch igniting a fire that courses through your body. “God… you’re soaked.” he rasps, his voice hoarse and laden with desire as he pulls back from the kiss to meet your eyes.

“Only for you.” you reply breathlessly, your gaze locking with his, full of need. That’s all it takes for Jungkook to act. With a growl of impatience, he flips you over effortlessly, trapping you beneath him, the mattress pressing against your back as his body hovers above yours.

The second you’re on your back, his hands are on you, peeling your underwear down with a slowness that has you shaking. He flicks the fabric to the floor, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you as you spread your legs for him.

The raw hunger in his gaze makes your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away, offering him everything, showing him the effect only he has on you. “Touch me…” you whisper, voice trembling.

“Touch me, Kook, please.” The plea falls from your lips, and he takes a steadying breath as his fingers begin their descent. They trail down the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasing, igniting a fire that only he can tame.

He pauses, his gaze lingering on your center, taking in every detail, every sign of your desire for him. “Come here…” His voice is soft yet commanding as he reaches for you, cradling you against his strong arms.

He shifts, sitting back against the headboard and pulling you onto his lap as the back of your head rests against his firm chest. His hands roam your body with a gentle intensity, starting at your stomach, his touch slow and soothing.

His lips graze the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping lightly as his breath tickles your skin. “Spread your legs.” he murmurs, his voice like molten honey. You obey without hesitation, letting your thighs fall open as his hands slide downward, from your stomach to your core.

The sensation sends shivers up your spine, and your lips part as you watch his every move. When he dips a finger into your wetness, your body jerks involuntarily, pressing you back against his chest.

His arms flex around you, holding you securely as he begins to move, skillfully exploring you with care. Each motion pulls soft gasps from your lips, the pleasure building with every passing second.

His finger glides through your folds with an intended precision, igniting sensations that make you whimper and moan. He traces slow circles around your clit, his touch light but electric, sending waves of pleasure radiating through your core.

You tilt your head back against his chest, your lips parted as soft, breathy moans escape you. "So sensitive." he muses, his voice deep and velvety, tinged with awe. He presses a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as if to ground you, even as his fingers threaten to unravel you completely.

He adds a second finger, his movements measured yet intense, curling them just right to hit the spot that makes you cry out. Your hips lift instinctively, seeking more of him, and he groans at your eagerness.

"That's it, baby." he encourages, his free hand coming up to grip your thigh, holding you steady as he works you over. His thumb brushes against your clit in tandem with his fingers, the combination drawing a sharp gasp from you.

"Kook..." you whimper, your voice trembling as the coil in your stomach tightens with every pass of his skilled fingers. "Keep saying my name." he urges, his voice low and commanding. "I want to hear you when you fall apart for me."

Your head tilts to the side, and he takes the opportunity to kiss along your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat against your skin. His teeth graze your pulse point, his tongue soothing the spot before he sucks lightly, marking you in a way that makes you shiver.

"You're so perfect, love." he whispers against your skin. "So fucking perfect... and all mine." His words make your heart race, and you find yourself clinging to him, your nails digging into his forearm as the pleasure builds to an almost unbearable peak.

The tension in your core spirals tighter and tighter until it feels like you might snap. "Baby... I... I'm so close." you manage to stammer as he mercilessly pushes his fingers into you. "Let go, baby." he coaxes, his pace never faltering. "I've got you."

With his encouragement, the coil finally snaps, and you cry out his name, your body trembling as the waves of your climax crash over you. He doesn't stop, drawing out every last bit of your pleasure as he holds you through it, his strong arms clutching you to him.

As the aftershocks ripple through you, you collapse against his chest, your breaths ragged and uneven. Jungkook brushes a hand through your hair, his touch soothing as he presses gentle kisses to your cheek and neck.

"You’re incredible." he whispers, his voice soft now, filled with adoration. Still dazed, you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes are filled with a warmth that makes your heart flutter, and as he leans down to kiss you, it’s slow and tender, a stark contrast to the fire that just consumed you.

But the hunger in his gaze remains, and when his lips leave yours, he smirks, his hands already beginning to roam again. "We’re not done yet." he says. "I still need to feel you around me, baby."

Your instantly nod, allowing him to guide you with a quiet confidence that makes your pulse race. Jungkook reaches for the condom on the mattress, his fingers deft as he tears it open. There’s an almost reverent care in the way he rolls it on, his eyes flicking to yours.

As you sit on the mattress, your fingers move to your back, unclasping your bra and letting it fall away, exposing your bare chest to him. His gaze locks onto you as he gulps, trying to steady himself. The way his eyes roam over you, drinking in every curve, every detail, makes your skin heat under his attention.

"You’re so beautiful." he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice husky with desire. His hands twitch at his sides as if he’s fighting the urge to just pounce on you, to just devour you. “You ready, baby?” he asks, his tone gentle, though the raw need beneath it is unmistakable.

“Yes.” you breathe, the single word carrying all the trust, the yearning, the connection between you. Your hands find his shoulders as he leans forward, hovering above you.

His body radiates warmth, his eyes searching yours as he dips his head, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that quickly turns heated.

As he carefully lines himself up with your entrance, he begins to push inside, inch by inch, filling you completely. The sensation draws a groan from both of you, as your bodies adjust to the intimate connection.

Your walls envelop him perfectly, warm and snug, making him curse under his breath. His forehead rests briefly against yours, his jaw tight as he savors the feeling of being joined with you in the most profound way.

“God, you feel... you feel so good.” he murmurs, his voice trembling as he begins to move, his hips rolling in slow, delicious thrusts. Each push, each plunge, is a silent declaration of his love for you, communicated through the way he holds you, the way his body seeks yours.

Your back arches, a soft moan spilling from your lips as his pace gradually builds. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he moves with a rhythm that feels like it was made for you alone. \

“Jungkook…” you gasp, your voice a mix of need and adoration, and his dark eyes meet yours, filled with a fierce, unrelenting love that makes your heart clench. “I love you.” he whispers, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, his thrusts never faltering. “I’ll always love you... fuck.”

//

"Wait, whaaat?" Yoongi’s voice drags, a blend of disbelief and curiosity as he lifts a fry between his fingers. "So, was she like, 'You will never be enough for my daughter.' or was she more like..." He pauses, slowly placing the fry back in the basket.

With a dramatic flourish, he twirls his fingers in the air in front of Jungkook's face. "Youuuu..." he emphasizes, stretching the word. "Youuuu will never be good enough for my daughter?" he asks, each syllable punctuated for maximum effect.

Jungkook exhales sharply rolling his eyes, his fingers absently picking at the fries in the basket, flicking them with a bit too much carelessness. "It’s... more like the second one." he murmurs, his eyes flickering up to meet Yoongi’s.

“Oh…” Yoongi exhales as he leans back against the worn leather booth, his arms crossing over his chest. For a moment, the ambient hum of clinking silverware and murmured conversations from the surrounding tables fills the silence between them.

It had been two days since dumpling day and the amazing night he had spent with you, but the interaction with your mother from that day still lingers in Jungkook's mind like a stubborn shadow.

The rehearsal dinner had happened just yesterday and thankfully it had gone off without any major hiccups, thanks to his unwavering focus on sticking close to you and limiting his interactions to just your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin.

But even in the warmth of the evening, Jungkook could feel it... the sharp, unwavering gaze of your mother drilling into him from across the room. It had his palms sweating beneath the table, his throat dry despite the steady flow of wine he forced himself to sip.

The entire time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just waiting for him to slip up, to give her ammunition for whatever silent judgment she harbored.

Now, hours before the actual wedding, the weight of it all is threatening to crush him. If her stare alone had him doubting himself last night, what would it be like during the actual ceremony? The thought of enduring her scrutiny throughout the night has his stomach churning with dread.

And what if she says something to him again? What if her disdain becomes so apparent that everyone else notices? Because her dismissal doesn’t just cut at him, it chips away at the foundation of the love and happiness you’ve both built together.

Jungkook tries to remind himself of everything else. The way your eyes light up when you look at him, the way your cousins laugh at his jokes, the endless reassurances from you that he belongs here, that he’s enough. And yet, the knot in his chest refuses to loosen.

"Well, honestly, I just think it's typical rich mom behavior. She’s probably bitter that her daughter’s found happiness in something that wasn’t part of her perfect plan, you know?" Yoongi says, his tone steady but with an underlying hint of frustration.

Jungkook sighs heavily, his head resting in his hands as his elbows slouch against the table. "I feel like I shouldn’t even go to the wedding." he mutters. There’s a heaviness in the way his words hang in the air, as if he’s been carrying the thought for far too long.

"You know, it’s Taehyung’s and Miyoen’s day. I don’t wanna cause any drama there or make it all awkward." The weight of his self-doubt presses his shoulders into a slump, his body folding in on itself as though he’s trying to make himself smaller, less visible.

He exhales sharply, his breath fogging the edge of the coffee cup he’s been nursing for the last hour. Yoongi leans back in his seat, arms crossed, one eyebrow slightly arched in annoyance. He doesn’t interrupt, waiting for Jungkook to finish.

Jungkook’s voice falters as he continues, his eyes fixed on the chipped edge of the table. "I feel like I should just sit it out, you know? Maybe tell Y/n I had food poisoning or something."

He glances up tentatively, only to find Yoongi’s gaze boring into him with a mix of incredulity and irritation. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably under the weight of it. "What?" he asks softly, sitting up straighter as if trying to defend himself against the silent judgment.

"That’s bullshit." Yoongi says flatly. He leans forward, his forearms resting on the table as he fixes Jungkook with a sharp, unrelenting stare. "You’re just scared."

The accusation makes Jungkook bristle. "No, I’m not." he shoots back quickly, his defensive tone undercut by the way he shoves a fry into his mouth, chewing furiously as if the act will shield him from further scrutiny.

Yoongi doesn’t back down. His gaze sharpens, and his voice takes on a calculated edge as he gestures pointedly with his hands. "Okay, here’s what you need to understand, alright?" He pauses, giving Jungkook no room to interrupt. "It’s not about getting Y/n’s mom to like you. It’s about getting her to respect you, alright?"

Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly, his posture rigid as Yoongi’s words sink in. "Right now..." Yoongi continues, his tone growing more intense. "She just thinks you’re some undeserving, clueless, gold-digging—"

"Yeah, I got it." Jungkook mutters, cutting him off with a tired nod, but Yoongi isn’t done. "... trashy, unrefined... banana." he continues.

The insult lands with a dull thud in the conversation, and Jungkook lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. "Yellow on the outside, white on the inside." Yoongi clarifies, his expression stoic. (A/N: as an asian myself, i'm not trying to be racist, THESE ARE ALL PEIK LIN'S LINES FROM THE MOVIE)

Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance. "I know what a banana is." he snaps, rolling his eyes, though there’s no real heat in his voice, just a resigned frustration. Yoongi leans back slightly, his sharp gaze unyielding.

"She just thinks you’re this whitewashed Korean American who’s lost touch with your roots, all westernized and disconnected." He gestures vaguely with one hand, as if painting the picture of Jungkook that exists in your mother’s mind.

"When, in reality..." Yoongi’s voice grows louder, more insistent. "You’re this super smart, highly professional photographer in freaking New York City." He smacks Jungkook’s arm lightly, the gesture more encouraging than chastising. "Show her that side of you, you know?"

For the first time, Jungkook’s shoulders relax slightly. His head tilts up, and his eyes meet Yoongi’s with a flicker of renewed determination. "You’re right." he says softly, the words carrying the weight of reluctant acceptance.

"Damn straight, I’m right." Yoongi scoffs, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk. "It's Min Yoongi. I’m always right." he quickly adds with a shurg.

"Yeah... she’s like trying to play a game of chicken with me." Jungkook says, his tone thoughtful but tinged with frustration. Yoongi nods subtly, his lips pursed as he listens, but Jungkook isn’t done.

"Where she’s like… coming at me and like, thinking I’m going to swerve like a chicken." Jungkook continues, his voice rising slightly as he gestures loosely with his hands, mimicking the imagined confrontation.

"But you can’t SWERVE." Yoongi declares with absolute certainty as he sharply shakes his finger, his tone firm as though it’s a universal truth.

Jungkook straightens slightly in his seat, nodding in agreement. "I’m not gonna swerve. Not for her." he says, the determination in his voice growing stronger with each word.

"No, chickens are bitches, dude!" Yoongi scoffs, his voice louder now, his expression incredulous as though the very idea of "swerving" is beneath them both.

Jungkook shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And I’m not a chicken." he says quietly, the words laced with a steely resolve.

"You’re not a chicken." Yoongi affirms, leaning forward as he locks eyes with Jungkook. "You’re gonna roll up to that wedding, and you’re gonna be like… BAK-BAK, BITCH!" Yoongi exclaims, his eyes wide as if delivering sage advice disguised in absurdity.

Jungkook, caught up in the moment, echoes the phrase, his voice steadier now. "Bak-bak, bitch."

Yoongi bursts out laughing, his cackle loud and infectious. "Chickens are bitches!" he yells and the outburst is so sudden and jarring that a few heads turn from the nearby tables, the clinking of silverware momentarily pausing as the other diners glance their way as the two boys snort, giggling to themselves.

Realizing they’ve drawn unwanted attention, Yoongi raises his hands apologetically, still chuckling under his breath. "Sorry, guys." he mutters to the other patrons, his voice laced with poorly concealed amusement. He bites down on his grin, his eyes glinting mischievously as he turns back to Jungkook.

The laughter between them fades slowly, leaving a lingering warmth in the air as Jungkook leans back in his seat, the corners of his lips still twitching from their shared joke. He looks at Yoongi for a moment, his gaze thoughtful before his expression turns slightly nervous.

"What are you doing tonight?" he asks suddenly. Yoongi raises an eyebrow, leaning back with a casual shrug. "I was gonna go play video games or something. Why?" he replies, his tone nonchalant but tinged with curiosity.

Jungkook shifts slightly in his seat, his fingers brushing against the edge of the table as he hesitates for a second. Then, he looks up, his eyes almost hopeful.

"Help me get dressed for the wedding. You know... just like you did for the tea ceremony." he says, his voice softer, almost like he’s asking for more than just wardrobe assistance, like he’s asking for backup in a battle he’s not sure he can face alone.

Yoongi’s eyes light up instantly, his grin widening into something almost devilish. It’s as if this is the moment he’s been waiting for. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table as he stares Jungkook down, his grin only growing wider.

"Oh, you’re in for a ride, baby."

//

"You look absolutely stunning, Miyeon." you say softly, a genuine smile gracing your lips as you take in her reflection in the mirror. The day of the much-anticipated wedding has finally arrived, and as both the groom's sister and the bride's best friend, you’re honored to play the role of bridesmaid.

Miyeon stands in front of the mirror, radiant in her luxurious wedding gown. The fabric hugs her figure perfectly, the intricate lace and beadwork shimmering under the warm lighting. Her eyes glisten with a mixture of excitement and nerves, and you can’t help but feel a swell of pride at how breathtaking she looks.

Her parents linger in the room, their eyes filled with emotion as they fuss over her veil. Realizing they might need a moment alone, you quietly excuse yourself, stepping out onto the balcony just outside Miyeon's dressing room.

The afternoon breeze greets you as you lean against the railing, your eyes sweeping over the scene below. The wedding venue’s grand entrance is a hive of activity.

Cars pull up one after another, releasing a stream of notable figures ranging from celebrities to politicians to business tycoons... all dressed to impress. The press hovers near the barricades, the paparazzi relentlessly snapping photos of every arrival.

You pull out your phone from your clutch, glancing at the time. It’s nearly 4 PM, and you find yourself wondering where Jungkook is. He had mentioned meeting Yoongi for lunch earlier, especially because the two of you were set to leave Daegu two days after the wedding.

Smiling to yourself, you dial his number, and he picks up almost immediately. "Hey, baby, where are you?" you ask, your voice light with curiosity. "Hi, love." Jungkook replies, his tone warm and familiar. "I’m on my way. Yoongi was helping me get dressed."

Your smile widens as a soft chuckle escapes your lips. "Oh really? Babe, if you wanted new clothes, you could’ve just told me." you tease, a playful lilt in your voice.

Jungkook laughs on the other end, the sound making your heart flutter. "Oh, I think I could just use Yoongi’s expert fashion advice for free." he counters, his voice laced with humor.

"Saying this when you have a fashion designer girlfriend…" you trail off, feigning offense. "Wow, Kook. Maybe you should just date Yoongi." You can hear the grin in his voice as he responds. "Don’t tempt me, love. He did make me look pretty sharp today."

You laugh softly, turning around to lean your back against the cool railing. "Anyways, you’ll be here soon, right?" you ask, your voice light but laced with a hint of impatience. "Of course, cutie." Jungkook replies, his tone playful and warm. "Send me pictures. I want to see how you look."

You giggle, unable to stop yourself from imagining the grin on his face as he says it. "Nuh-uh." you tease, shaking your head even though he can’t see you. "Why don’t you come see for yourself?"

He groans dramatically, a soft whine escaping through the phone. "Fine." he admits with mock defeat, and you can practically hear the pout in his voice. You can’t help but laugh at how endearing he sounds. "I’ll see you soon, okay?" he says, his voice dropping into something softer, more sincere. "I love you."

Your chest feels warm, a smile tugging at your lips so wide it’s as if he’s right there, seeing it for himself. "I love you too." you reply, your voice equally tender.

//

"Look at that crowd." Yoongi breathes out, his voice laced with disbelief as he glances at the swarm of people buzzing near the barricades outside the wedding venue.

The car moves slowly past the chaos, the low hum of the engine almost drowned out by the excited murmur of the spectators and the clicking of cameras.

Jungkook's gaze is fixed ahead, his jaw tightening as he takes in the scene of paparazzi standing in clusters around the grand entrance and outside the huge gates. His stomach churns with unease, but he keeps his expression neutral, masking the nerves bubbling beneath the surface.

"Holy fuck, isn’t that Gong Yoo?" Yoongi exclaims as he continues to drive, his head turning to follow the tall, impeccably dressed actor moving through the crowd. "No way he’s here too."

Jungkook barely registers Yoongi’s excitement, his focus locked on the entrance and the daunting spectacle awaiting him. The weight of the moment presses down heavily on his chest, but a mantra loops in his mind. Don’t swerve. Don’t swerve.

Once Yoongi enters through the gates, the car slows as he pulls up right in front of the hall's huge entrance. He cuts the engine and turns to Jungkook, his expression softening as he sees the tension etched across his friend’s face. "You got this, man." he says, tapping Jungkook’s thigh in a gesture of encouragement.

Jungkook swallows hard, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he nods. His hand hovers over the door handle, hesitating for a brief moment before gripping it firmly. "Thanks a lot, Yoongi." he murmurs, voice steady despite the flutter of anxiety in his chest.

As soon as he steps out, the world explodes into noise and light. The crowd erupts in cheers, and the paparazzi go into a frenzy, their voices overlapping as they call out for his attention. Jungkook takes a deep breath, standing straighter as he adjusts the lapels of his Gucci blazer.

The suit Yoongi helped him pick is immaculate... a sleek, tailored masterpiece in dark green with subtle gold accents along the cuffs and collar. It fits him like a glove, exuding quiet luxury without screaming for attention.

Jungkook’s feet carry him onto the red carpet that stretches like a lifeline towards the grand entrance. A cameraman calls out for him to pause, and he obliges, though his movements are awkward and unsure. He shifts his weight, not quite knowing what to do with his hands or where to direct his gaze.

He’s used to being behind the camera, crafting moments rather than being the subject of them. But somehow, he manages a polite smile, inclining his head slightly as the flashes intensify. After a few long seconds, he mutters a soft "thank you" to the photographers and begins walking again.

The crowd’s noise fades slightly as he nears the entrance, and that’s when he spots a familiar figure, Wooyoung. The man is posing confidently in front of another camera, basking in the attention like it’s his natural habitat.

Jungkook feels his jaw tighten as he watches Wooyoung smirk and adjust his designer tie, clearly reveling in the moment.

As Jungkook strides closer, Wooyoung’s sharp eyes catch his approach. His smirk widens, and he tilts his head, feigning surprise. "Oh..." Wooyoung drawls, his voice dripping with mockery. "Well, well, didn’t expect to see you here."

Jungkook halts just short of the man, his expression unreadable as he regards him coolly. His voice is low and flat when he speaks. "Wooyoung." He inclines his head slightly, his tone devoid of warmth. "You’re in my way."

Wooyoung’s grin falters for a split second but Jungkook doesn’t spare him another glance, his shoulder brushing deliberately against Wooyoung’s as he passes. The last thing Jungkook wants to do is give a man like Wooyoung, his attention.

As Jungkook steps into the grand hall, he’s momentarily taken aback. The venue is nothing short of spectacular, with cascading floral arrangements, chandeliers that glitter like constellations, and a soft golden glow that bathes everything in an ethereal light.

The decorations are opulent yet tasteful, exuding a sense of timeless elegance that leaves him in awe. His gaze sweeps across the hall, taking in the clusters of impeccably dressed guests mingling and chatting. He notes a few familiar faces but doesn’t linger on any of them, his attention is drawn elsewhere.

It’s then that he spots her.

By the far end of the room, near the ornately decorated stage, stands your mother. She’s a vision of poise in her traditional hanbok, the delicate embroidery catching the warm light. Her elegant appearance is nearly overshadowed by the sharpness of her gaze, which is locked squarely on him.

Jungkook feels his breath hitch. The look she’s giving him is unmistakable, icy and unwavering, a silent declaration of her disapproval. Despite the distance, her piercing eyes cut through the space between them, and for a moment, he falters.

Clenching his jaw, Jungkook forces himself to stand tall. He refuses to let her intimidation get the better of him, he refuses to swerve even if his heart races in his chest. He looks away intentionally, seeking a lifeline, and thankfully, he finds one.

Seated a few rows ahead, Seokjin is scrolling through his phone, completely oblivious to Jungkook’s inner turmoil. As Jungkook approaches, Seokjin looks up, and his face breaks into a wide grin.

"Hey, man !!" Seokjin calls out, standing to greet him. Jungkook smiles, grateful for the reprieve, as Seokjin pulls him into a quick hug. "Damn, dude, this suit looks so good on you !!" Seokjin exclaims, giving him an approving pat on the back.

Jungkook chuckles, his tension easing slightly. "Thanks, hyung." he says as they both take their seats. Jungkook exhales, feeling a bit more at ease. This is good. This is manageable. All he needs to do is stick close to the people he knows, at least until you’re done with your bridesmaid duties.

He glances around the room again, this time with a bit more confidence. This is going to be fine, he tells himself. Repeating it like a mantra, he resolves to get through the evening, one moment at a time.

Time seems to stretch and blur as anticipation builds in the room. Soon, the quiet hum of conversations fades as the guests begin taking their seats.

A soft, ethereal melody starts to play, floating gently through the air as the lights dim. The atmosphere transforms into something almost magical, the golden glow of the chandeliers now subdued, casting a romantic haze over the venue.

Jungkook’s eyes drift towards the stage, where Taehyung stands tall and poised. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, his hair slicked back, he exudes a sense of effortless charm.

Taehyung’s expression is calm but expectant, his gaze fixed on the grand white doors at the far end of the hall. His lips quirk slightly, betraying the sheer joy and anticipation he feels as he waits for the moment his bride walks down the aisle.

Jungkook leans back in his seat, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His heart feels light as he watches the scene unfold. The soft rustling of fabric and the delicate sound of heels clicking against the floor signal the beginning of the bridal procession.

Two little girls, the flower girls, step into view first, each carrying small baskets overflowing with petals. They walk down the aisle with practiced grace, scattering the petals with elegance.

The faint murmurs of admiration ripple through the crowd, and Jungkook can’t help but chuckle softly at the way their serious expressions contrast with their tiny frames.

Following them, two bridesmaids glide down the aisle, their dresses flowing like liquid silk with every step. They move in perfect sync, their presence adding to the dreamy ambiance of the moment.

Jungkook’s attention snaps back to the white doors. His pulse quickens slightly, a subtle thrill running through him because he knows you’ll be stepping through them soon.

And then, as if time itself holds its breath, the white doors slowly swing open, revealing you in all your breathtaking beauty. The melody crescendos, wrapping around the room like a soft embrace, but to Jungkook, all sound fades. It feels as though the world has narrowed down to you alone.

You step forward, a delicate bouquet cradled in your hands, each flower chosen with care, adding to the ethereal glow that seems to radiate from you.

Your dress flows like a whispered dream, each movement making the fabric shimmer under the soft golden light. It hugs you in all the right places, the detailed lace and beadwork glinting like stardust, while the sheer layers of tulle give it an almost otherworldly grace.

Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat, his heart pounding as if it’s trying to leap out of his chest. The first sight of you is like a revelation, something so beautiful it feels almost unreal. His eyes soften, the corners of his lips curving into a small, awe-filled smile.

You don’t notice him... your gaze is fixed ahead, your step poised with grace as you make your way down the aisle. Each step you take seems to echo with the beat of his heart, louder and faster with every passing second.

Jungkook leans back slightly, his shoulders relaxing as he allows himself to take you in fully. His gaze follows you, never faltering, as if he’s afraid he might miss even a second of this moment. To him, you look like an angel who has somehow found her way to earth, gracing everyone with her presence.

The soft light dances on your features, highlighting the gentle curve of your smile, the serene confidence in your stride, and the subtle glow that surrounds you. It’s as if the universe itself has conspired to make you shine just for him in this instant.

As you pass him, Jungkook feels his chest tighten, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his emotions. His hands grip the edges of his seat as he sits there, utterly captivated, his thoughts a chaotic mess of disbelief and gratitude.

How did I get so lucky? he wonders, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. It’s a question he’s asked himself countless times, but today, in this moment, it feels more poignant than ever.

He watches you continue down the aisle, and for a fleeting moment, he’s certain that nothing in the world could ever compare to this... to you.

Once you finally reach the side of the stage, you turn to face the audience. Your smile remains unwavering, glowing with the joy of the moment, but deep down, your heart flutters with a singular hope... to find one pair of eyes in the sea of faces.

Your gaze sweeps across the crowd, scanning row after row until, finally, you find him. Jungkook is seated just a few rows from the stage, and as if he’s been waiting for this very moment, his eyes are already locked onto you.

There’s a dreamy softness in his gaze, a look you know all too well. It’s the look that has always made your heart race, the one that speaks of quiet adoration and unspoken promises.

The corners of your lips curve higher, your smile widening instinctively as your eyes meet his. And just like that, the world seems to melt away.

Jungkook smiles back at you, his expression filled with fondness, his dimples making an appearance as if to underline the tenderness in his heart. It’s a look that makes your pulse quicken, your heart tumbling over itself in response.

The music swells, becoming more vibrant, more ethereal, and your attention is drawn to the white doors as they open once again. This time, it’s Miyeon, radiant and breathtaking, walking arm-in-arm with her father.

Her gown flows like a cascade of clouds, each step more graceful than the last. A collective gasp ripples through the audience, followed by murmurs of admiration as they take in her surreal beauty.

The setting feels magical... soft lights casting a warm glow, petals scattered across the aisle, and the faint scent of flowers lingering in the air. There’s something about the intimacy of the ceremony, the heartfelt authenticity of the moment, that makes it all feel like a scene from a storybook.

Yet, while everyone else marvels at Miyeon, Jungkook’s gaze remains steadfast on you. He watches the subtle shift in your expression as you look at Miyeon... the way your eyes soften, glistening with affection and pride as your best friend walks closer and closer to the stage.

As Miyeon finally reaches Taehyung, the priest begins the ceremony with a solemn yet tender tone. Words of love and unity fill the air, binding everyone in the room to the sacredness of the moment.

When Taehyung gently pulls Miyeon closer and kisses her, the crowd erupts into applause. The music swells again, a harmonious blend of joy and celebration.

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. This is love, you think, pure and true, and as you instinctively turn to find Jungkook in the audience, your heart skips a beat.

He’s already looking at you, his expression soft, his eyes reflecting every ounce of emotion you feel. You smile at him, unable to hold back the rush of affection that floods your chest. It feels surreal, like a dream you never want to wake up from.

“I love you.” you mouth, hoping he can see it, that he can feel it. Jungkook’s response is almost immediate. His lips move silently, forming the words with absolute clarity. “I love you.”

The after-party of the wedding is nothing short of a blast. The dance floor is alive with energy, guests lost in the rhythm as the music pulses through the venue.

Taehyung and Miyeon are the stars of the night, twirling at the center, their chemistry undeniable as they share an intimate, joyful dance.

Amidst the excitement, you roam around the crowd, trying to find Jungkook but before you can spot him, he spots you. Without a word, he steps towards you, his arms slipping around your waist from behind as he gently pulls you into him.

You gasp at the sudden contact but instantly melt into the warmth of his embrace, feeling the soft press of his lips on your shoulder. “You look spectacular tonight.” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and warm.

You giggle, turning around to face him, your palms resting on the soft fabric of his blazer. His presence, the way he carries himself with confidence and charm, makes your heart flutter. “You’re the one talking...” you reply, your smile playful.

“I must say…” You trail off, a teasing glint in your eyes. “Yoongi’s pretty good at this.” you add, arching an eyebrow, referring to the “free fashion advice” Jungkook had mentioned earlier.

Jungkook chuckles, his hand resting on your waist as he leans in closer, his lips curling into a grin. “Oh, he’s got his ways.” he admits, shrugging lightly. “But I think I’ve got a little bit of style myself, don’t you think?”

You laugh softly, running your fingers over the fine details of his suit, admiring the way it fits him perfectly. “You definitely do.” you tease, pulling him just a bit closer as the music continues to swirl around you both.

The night proceeds and soon, the music shifts, the soft, romantic melody filling the space, and for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you. Jungkook holds you close, his arms securely wrapped around you, swaying gently with the rhythm as the both of you slow dance together.

The warmth of his chest is soothing against your cheek as you rest your head there, your body moving in sync with his. The moment feels like it’s suspended in time, as if the world around you fades into the background.

His lips press a tender kiss on the crown of your head, and a soft sigh escapes your lips. Everything about this... this closeness, this peace, this love, is perfect. You wish it could last forever.

But just as you're lost in the serenity of the dance, the moment is shattered by the soft call of an unfamiliar voice. "Miss Kim." the voice says, calm yet insistent.

You reluctantly pull away from Jungkook, your gaze shifting towards the source of the interruption. A maid, standing nearby, looks at you with polite composure. "Your grandmother and your mother would like to meet you and Mr. Jeon." she announces, her tone professional.

Jungkook glances down at you, his brows knitting together in silent confusion. He doesn't say a word, but the unspoken question in his eyes is clear. You exhale softly, a wave of uncertainty tightening in your chest as you try to steady yourself. What could this possibly be about? Why now, of all times?

The timing feels so random, so abrupt, and the questions swirling in your mind only add to your unease. After a few moments of quiet speculation, you glance up at him briefly before turning to the maid. With a small, composed nod, you signal your agreement to meet them.

As Jungkook walks hand in hand with you, following the maid, the lively rhythm of the party fades into the background with each step away from the dance floor. An uneasy tension settles in his chest, and he can’t help but feel a growing sense of anxiety.

Why had your mom and especially your grandmother asked to see the two of you so randomly? The journey to the secluded room at the end of the hall feels strangely heavier, the air thick with tension.

When you reach the door, you spot your grandmother, seated on a grand, velvet sofa. She looks regal, as always, but her expression is unreadable, her eyes sharp.

Standing beside her is your mother, holding a sheet of paper, her face a mask of seriousness. There’s something unsettling about her demeanor, the way her eyes narrow at the sight of you.

"Mama? Grammy?" you call out, your voice laced with confusion as you approach them, Jungkook quietly following behind. You try to maintain composure, but the unease in your chest only grows stronger.

"What’s this all about?" you ask, standing directly in front of them, your gaze flicking between your mother’s serious expression and your grandmother’s unreadable one.

"Jungkook." your grandmother suddenly calls out, her voice sharp. Jungkook stiffens beside you, his shoulders straightening as his name falls from her lips. He bows slightly, his respect unwavering despite the unease creeping up his spine.

"I've only known you for a short time, but it's clear you're a smart man." She pauses, her sharp eyes fixed on Jungkook. He hesitates, unsure whether to take it as a compliment and offer a polite smile, or brace himself for what might follow. Instead, he chooses to remain silent, waiting for her to continue.

"But I will not permit you to ruin my granddaughter and our family's reputation." she states. Jungkook’s jaw tightens, but he remains silent. You, however, feel your heart lurch in your chest. "Grammy, what... what are you saying?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly.

"I'm sorry to tell you, Y/n... but Jungkook here has been hiding a lot about his family... or should I say... his mother." your mother interjects, her voice slicing through the room like a blade. Her gaze shifts to Jungkook, and there’s a cruel sharpness in her eyes.

Jungkook's lips part, struggling to grasp the weight of the accusation. "What are you..." he begins, shaking his head as his throat tightens, words catching in his chest. "What are you talking ab—?"

But before he can finish, your mother cuts him off, her sharp voice already filling the room again. "I hired a private investigator to look into his past—" "Mama, you didn’t !!" you snap, stepping forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief.

Your mother barely spares you a glance, her focus unwavering as she continues speaking. "Your mother... was working for one of our smaller corporate branches in Busan. She wasn’t just an employee... she was involved in an affair with her manager. That alone is disgraceful, but it doesn’t stop there."

Jungkook’s eyes widen, the accusation hitting him like a physical blow. He looks like he’s about to speak, but your mother barrels on. "She became a whistleblower." your mother states, her voice venomous.

"She leaked confidential company information, information that implicated our company in a scandal. She betrayed the very people who gave her a livelihood. And when the consequences started closing in, she fled to New York—with you."

Jungkook flinches at her words, his face paling. His lips part, but no sound comes out. You see the torment in his eyes, the way he’s struggling to process the weight of the accusations against his mother... against himself.

Your chest tightens as you turn to him, your hand instinctively reaching for his. "Jungkook..." you whisper, but he doesn’t meet your gaze. His head is lowered, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the muscle ticking in his cheek.

"It’s all in here." your mother says, extending the paper in her hands towards you. "Every detail. Every reason why this boy and his family are a liability to ours."

You snatch the paper from her hand, the anger in your veins nearly boiling over. Without even looking at the contents, you crumple it, the paper crinkling loudly in your fist. "You had no right, Mama !!" you say, your voice trembling with rage.

"We had every right." your mother counters, her voice icy. "Do you have any idea what kind of damage this could bring to our family, Y/n? To our reputation? To allow someone like him into our lives—"

"Someone like him?" you cut her off, your voice rising. "You don’t even know him! You don’t know what kind of person he is!"

"Y/n." your grandmother says, her voice calm but firm. "This isn’t about who Jungkook is as a person. This is about what he represents. A future filled with uncertainty. Scandal. You have responsibilities, my dear, and they don’t include risking everything for..." She pauses, her gaze falling on Jungkook, her disdain evident. "For someone whose past is built on deceit."

Jungkook finally speaks, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "I didn’t know..." he says, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I didn’t know about any of this."

Your mother lets out a mirthless laugh. "Of course you didn’t. And yet, here you are, dragging my daughter into your mess." she says. "Stop it!" you yell, stepping forward as tears blur your vision. "This isn’t his fault! None of this is his fault!"

"Y/n..." your mother says, her voice softening slightly, as if trying to reason with you. "We cannot be linked to this sort of family."

Jungkook’s head snaps up at this, his eyes locking onto your mother’s with a fiery intensity that burns through the tension in the room.

For a brief moment, silence stretches thin, heavy with unspoken words. Then his voice cuts through, low and steady.

"I don’t want any part of your family."

<-part 5

series masterlist

taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas @shellyyy177 @majesticjung-97

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi!! I have an idea for Jeonghan. You know The8's song Cold love. (It's my favorite).

The idea is this. The reader has a crush on him, even tho there in the same group (pls idol au), But he's cold, and distant to her/them.

It can be either a fluffy or angsty ending, with her leaving the group of them ending up together.

The reader can be Gn, or female I don't mind any.

I Love your writing, it brings me comfort 🫶

Cold Love | idol!Jeonghan x 14thmember!Reader | angst, fluff

The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The secluded cabin where Seventeen had gathered felt warm and lively, but to Y/N, it felt anything but.

She sat on the wooden deck, looking out at the calm lake that stretched before her. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip a short break before Jeonghan left for the military in a few months. Everyone had been excited about it, especially since they hadn’t had much downtime lately. But for Y/N, this trip had been nothing but painful.

She glanced back toward the large glass windows of the cabin. The rest of the group was inside, laughing and playing games, but her eyes were fixed on one person Jeonghan. He was sitting at the dining table, smiling at something Mingyu said. That smile was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place. It was soft, warm, and made her feel safe.

But lately, he hadn’t shown that side to her.

Not once.

Instead, he had been cold. Distant. Unkind.

Her chest tightened as she turned back toward the lake, hugging her knees. She wanted to believe there was a reason for his behavior some explanation that made sense but she was tired of waiting for answers.

“Y/N?”

She flinched at the sound of her name and quickly wiped at her eyes before turning to see Joshua approaching her.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve been out here for almost an hour, and you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Not hungry, or avoiding someone?” Joshua’s voice was gentle, but his words hit her hard.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” he said, sitting down next to her, “whatever’s going on between you and Jeonghan, you should talk to him about it. The tension’s so thick it’s making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘me and Jeonghan.’ He made that very clear.”

Joshua hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why does he act like I don’t exist?” Her voice cracked.

Joshua frowned but didn’t push any further. Instead, he stood and offered her a hand. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up, but her heart sank as she caught Jeonghan’s gaze through the window. For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes worry? Pain? But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he looked away.

————————————————————————————-

Dinner had ended, and the group gathered in the living room for games. Y/N sat quietly in the corner, barely paying attention as the others laughed and teased each other. She tried to join in, but her mind kept drifting back to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t fair. She had poured her heart out to him months ago, told him how she felt. And he had rejected her not with words, but with silence and distance.

It hurt more than she ever thought it could.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Seungkwan said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re playing charades. Your turn.”

“Oh… okay.”

She stood awkwardly, trying to focus, but the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her and Jeonghan sitting just across the room made her panic.

“I can’t. Sorry.” She quickly sat down again, her cheeks burning.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears threatening to spill told a different story.

Jeonghan shifted in his seat, his fists clenched. He wanted to say something to do something but he couldn’t. The management’s warning echoed in his head. No relationships. No scandals. If he stepped out of line, she could be kicked out of the group.

But seeing her like this, breaking apart because of him, was unbearable.

“Y/N.” His voice was sharp.

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of them.

“No,” Y/N snapped.

Jeonghan flinched. “Y/N—”

“No!” She stood up, her voice rising. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to ignore me, push me away, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it’s convenient for you!”

The other members stared in shock as her voice cracked with emotion.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” she cried. “You know how I feel, and you couldn’t even be kind to me. If you don’t like me, fine! But at least treat me like a human being!”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

————————————————————————————-

The night was quiet, but Jeonghan couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as her words replayed in his head.

You don’t get to do this.

Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?

If you don’t like me, fine!

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t let her go to sleep thinking she wasn’t loved because she was. More than anything.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his room and walked to hers.

He hesitated at the door, hearing her muffled sobs. His heart shattered.

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

After a long pause, the door opened.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to explain,” he said. “Please.”

She stepped aside, and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t hate you,” Jeonghan finally said. “I never have.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then why?”

“Because I was scared.” His voice was raw. “The management they told me that if we got involved, they’d kick you out of the group. And I couldn’t risk that. Not for me, and not for you.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “So instead, you decided to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted. “I thought pushing you away would protect both of us. But all I’ve done is hurt you—and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I always have.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

Jeonghan froze, shocked, but when she pulled away, embarrassed, he caught her hand.

“Wait.”

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were happy tears.

“Okay,” she whispered.

————————————————————————————-

Y/N sat nervously in the practice room, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Seungcheol. He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You want to what?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, but there was also concern in his eyes.

“I want to leave the group,” Y/N repeated, this time louder. Her voice still shook, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“For Jeonghan and me to be together,” she said softly, looking down.

Seungcheol froze. “…What?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. “The management said if we get into a relationship, I’ll be kicked out of the group. Not him. Me.”

Seungcheol stared at her, completely silent for a moment. Then he burst out, “And you just accepted that?!”

“What else am I supposed to do, Seungcheol?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Let them ruin his career? Let them destroy everything he’s worked for? I can’t do that to him!”

“And you think he’d be okay with you giving up your career instead?” he shot back. “Do you think Jeonghan would ever forgive himself if you left because of him?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving. We’re going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Simple,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re going to the management, and we’re going to make it clear that this isn’t happening. You’re staying in Seventeen.”

———————————————————————————-

Y/N sat beside Seungcheol in the cold, sterile meeting room. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the managers could hear it.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he said as soon as the managers sat down. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

One of the managers raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“This rule you’ve made,” Seungcheol said, his voice sharp. “The one where you’ll kick her out of the group if she dates Jeonghan. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening.”

The managers exchanged glances. “We’ve already discussed this with her.”

“And now you’re going to discuss it with me,” Seungcheol shot back. “You don’t get to ruin someone’s career because they fell in love.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” one manager said stiffly. “It’s about protecting the group’s reputation.”

“Reputation?” Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “What reputation? SEVENTEEN’s reputation isn’t built on scandals or dating bans. It’s built on talent, hard work, and loyalty. And you want to throw all of that away by forcing Y/N out?”

Another manager leaned forward. “This is standard in the industry—”

“I don’t care what’s standard,” Seungcheol interrupted. “This group isn’t like the others, and you know that. We’re a family. And you’re asking us to tear apart our family over something as human as love.”

“It’s a risk,” the manager argued.

“So what?” Seungcheol said, his voice rising. “Everything we do is a risk! Going on stage is a risk! Performing live is a risk! But we still do it because we believe in each other. And if you don’t believe in us if you don’t believe in Y/N and Jeonghan then maybe you’re the problem, not them.”

The room went silent.

Finally, one of the managers spoke, their tone colder than before. “If this relationship gets out to the public, there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll handle it. But you’re not forcing her out of this group.”

The managers exchanged looks, clearly unhappy, but after a long pause, one of them sighed. “Fine. But it stays private. And if it ever becomes public, you all know what’s at stake.”

———————————————————————————-

Meanwhile—Dance Practice Room

Jeonghan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking around the room. Something felt… off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing at the others.

Joshua hesitated, then pulled him aside. “She’s with Seungcheol. At the company office.”

Jeonghan frowned. “Why?”

Joshua bit his lip. “…She’s asking to leave the group.”

Jeonghan froze. “What?”

“She said it’s because of you,” Joshua admitted softly. “Because of what the management said about you two.”

Jeonghan didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the practice room.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N and Seungcheol stepped out of the management’s office, the tension from their earlier discussion still lingering in the air. Y/N’s heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief.

It was over.

She could stay. She didn’t have to leave Seventeen. She and Jeonghan could be together as long as they kept it private.

But before she could fully process everything, Jeonghan’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her eyes widening as she turned to see him storming toward her.

His face was filled with panic and anger, and the moment he reached her, his voice was sharp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jeonghan—”

“You can’t leave the group!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “Not because of me!”

Seungcheol raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, stepping back. He shot Y/N a reassuring look before walking away.

As soon as Seungcheol disappeared down the hall, Jeonghan turned back to Y/N, his eyes desperate.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you do this? Why would you throw away everything we’ve worked for?”

Y/N’s heart ached seeing the pain in his eyes. She reached out, but he stepped back, his fists clenched.

“Jeonghan, stop,” she said softly. “Listen to me.”

“How can I listen to you when you’re trying to leave?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his expression.

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could pull away. “I’m staying.”

He froze. “What?”

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Seungcheol and I talked to the management. We convinced them to let me stay. We can be together, but it has to be private.”

Jeonghan stared at her, completely stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought this was the only way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Y/N, do you really think I’d be okay with you giving up your dream for me? Do you know how much that would’ve destroyed me?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jeonghan reached out, gently cupping her face. “We’ll figure things out together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, okay?”

Y/N nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you before. For making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain again. I know why you did it.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve fought for us from the start.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Jeonghan didn’t let her.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, finally allowing herself to breathe.

“Never,” she whispered back.

————————————————————————————

The group had gathered back at the cabin after practice. Y/N and Jeonghan sat together in the corner, their hands intertwined under the table where no one could see.

Seungcheol watched them from across the room and smiled to himself.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeonghan said quietly when he caught Seungcheol’s gaze.

Seungcheol just shrugged. “You owe me.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I know.”

Y/N squeezed Jeonghan’s hand, and he turned to her, his expression softening.

They still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, they felt ready to face it. Together.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (08)

chapter eight: ships in the night

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; i’ve been told this is the angstiest chapter yet saur yk you’ve been warned, mentions of past seggsy times, oc is self-deprecating self-sabotaging, oc has an anxiety attack in this one, erhm just Big Sad overall methinks, also could've been more edited but i am a godless monster word count: 7.2k note: wt is backkkkkk!! and it's the penultimate chapter omg :( lowkey nervous about how this is gonna be perceived bc i feel like my brand is Sad™️ and i haven't properly written anything Sad™️ in a WHILE. but yeah, wt8 is yours now have funnn. also ty chessica @matchannie for proofreading!!

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Sorry, I know that comment wasn’t funny Just wanted you to love me, but I didn’t go about it right Sometimes the best advice that I can give Is to bite my lip and listen with my big fat mouth shut tight

big fat mouth - Arlie

You don’t think you can ever forget the look on his face, the hurt in his eyes when the words had tumbled out of your mouth in a panicked frenzy. The regret was immediate, but so was the damage.

Saying things you didn’t mean, watching Minho so utterly defeated that it kills you, and the deafening silence after he had walked away from you on heavy footsteps – you can’t describe how it all felt that night. It’s just… sinking, and sinking, and sinking; endlessly spiraling in an ocean of your own guilt and despair. It’s true what they say – misery loves company.

Distractions don’t work, because whenever that overwhelming dread eases by even a fraction, you’re once again reminded by the bracelet that’s wrapped around your wrist with the tiny dove charm hanging on the side. Neither of you paid it any mind the other night, that much is clear.

You know you should return it to him eventually; it’s never belonged to you and it never will. But every time you go to take it off, you can’t bring yourself to simply undo the clasp and hide the bracelet somewhere you can’t see. It lets you delude yourself into thinking that you haven’t lost him even after what you said, even after you stomped on his heart and left it bleeding where you stood. 

You’d been upset, thinking that you were the only one falling, terrified that you’d crash headfirst into the cold, hard ground because there’d be nobody to catch you. And yet, when Minho told you he loved you, it provided you no relief at all. The fear magnified tenfold, taking over you until you couldn’t see straight, until it consumed you whole.

Home is something you find, and you’ve found it in him. Your sun and your spring and your home, and everything good that you can ever name.

All your life, something is always missing, an empty space that you never learned how to fill. Like when you exit a room and there’s a nagging feeling in your gut telling you that you’ve forgotten something even though all of your belongings are accounted for. Like when you lose your favorite ring, one that’s a little too loose but beloved anyway, slipping over your knuckle without your permission and disappearing forever, and you keep running your fingers over where the golden band used to be until you come to terms with the fact that it’s never coming back and you’ll spend the rest of your life mourning the loss of that familiarity.

You’ve always looked for things you lost in places you’ve never been.

You just want to go home, but you know you’ll only ruin it in the end.

The problem has never been Minho or anybody else. It’s you, and how there’s something intrinsically wrong with you. You paint the ending before there’s even a beginning. You’d rather run and hide than let yourself feel anything, because if there’s happiness then there’s going to be hurt inevitably.

You don’t want him to wake up one day and look at you like you’re a stranger, to realize that he’s wasted his time and effort, that you just weren’t worth it after all. 

It’s funny how, when you’re a child, time seems to move so quickly. One minute, you’re four, maybe five years old, and your mother is refusing to speak to you because she thinks you ruined one of her bags, a large scratch running along the otherwise smooth leather surface like it’s been met with a pair of scissors or simply accumulated on her way to work and she hadn’t noticed until she got home and you happened to be in the vicinity of her anger; the next, she’s letting you relish in all your favorite desserts, cavities be damned.

One minute, you’re being rushed to the hospital with a bad case of food poisoning, your parents staring down at you as if you’re actually about to die; the next, you’re already at home, watching cartoons that you couldn’t understand but you like anyway because they’re full of pretty colors and princesses and fairies.

You don’t remember how your mother came to forgive you for the bag even though it wasn’t your fault, or what the hospital felt like or if what the doctors and nurses did to make you feel better even hurt. You only know that you wish to return to a smaller version of yourself whose memories you can’t even recall, return to a time in which you once so desperately wanted to escape from.

Now, when you’re hurt, time doesn’t pass in a blink of an eye like it used to. It stands still, sucks you down a vortex and makes you feel everything. 

No one ever really warns you about growing pains, that they’re unavoidable no matter how hard you try to avoid them, that they can last a lifetime because you never really stop growing, and it never really seems to ache any less.

Hyunjin: Attachment: 1 Image. Hyunjin: i sent this one in  Hyunjin: u??

You’d almost forgotten about the exhibition until Hyunjin had sent you those texts. Even though you’re not one to neglect deadlines, you suppose it’s fairly reasonable that this one in particular had slipped your mind. You haven’t really been able to wrap your head around that many things after all.

Every semester, yours and Hyunjin’s department rents out a gallery near campus for a whole week to showcase students’ works. It’s nothing exclusive, nothing like a competition where they pit a couple hundred kids against each other just for a spot at a fancy art gallery. Almost anyone in the Faculty of Arts can register before the submission deadline, and you suppose that’s another reason why you’d overlooked it so easily – because you didn’t earn it. It didn’t feel special. It was just another meaningless event to attend.

Regardless, you spent a chunk of an afternoon pondering your selection though it didn’t matter that much, almost two hours dedicated to picking out paintings you realized you didn’t love. Some you even turned out to hate, even though you could remember the pride radiating from you the moments the canvas had felt the last brush stroke. Maybe the glamor eventually wore off, the momentary high that coursed through you when you’d shown your finished works to your professors and peers, and received showers of praise in return.

The piece you chose in the end wasn’t your favorite by any means, but it was one of the only pieces you could still bear to look at without nitpicking too much. It was a painting of the waters, and you’ve always loved the waters.

You could recall the day you went to the promenade by yourself with a need to be away from everyone and everything, and an overshirt that was too light to combat the September evening chill as summer transitioned into fall. You watched the sky slowly darken after the sun had disappeared from view, watched as the buildings on the other side of the river lit up one by one until they made up for the light that retired for the day.

The thin layers made you shiver – the consequence of your poor choice in clothing that night – but there was something about sitting by the waterfront after dark, kicking pebbles around underneath your feet, and the gentle caress of the wind on your face and your hair that made the cold feel welcoming. You always thought the city was more beautiful at night, more calming amidst all of its perpetual chaos. It made you feel like you were inside a dream long forgotten, took you back to a north star that you left to gather dust on an abandoned shelf.

You could recall wanting to dive into that dream again, a dream in which you could chase a perfect version of you that would never exist and find light at the end of the tunnel, instead of returning to the reality where you always wound up suffocating in darkness. You wanted to be free, free from the noise and free from your own life despite one simple truth that you knew all too well – that you could run but never from yourself.

When you were young, it’s the moon that used to follow you everywhere. As you get older, it’s all of the things that keep you up at night.

You could recall your phone buzzing to life in your bag with Minho’s name on the screen, like a sign from the universe saying “Hey, this one’s for you. Don’t drown. You have a lighthouse.” and it was as though he could sense that you were falling, like someone had tied your heart to a rock and threw it into the very river in front of you to sink to the bottom. Your friends often said he had some sort of sixth sense when it came to you. Maybe there was some truth in that.

His voice pulled you out of it, even though he only called to ask if you wanted to come over and eat the boatload of food his mom had sent. He made you want to disappear a little less and in that moment, it was enough.

You left your hiding place to go to him, to lose yourself in stupid jokes and not-too-sweet desserts even if it was only for a couple hours. And when you returned home that night, everything spilled onto the canvas just from memory alone, from the feeling that you were desperately clinging onto with your shaking hands.

You always thought you could only run away to places. You didn’t know people could be escapes too, and somewhere along the way, that was what Minho became to you — your treasured escape, your new hiding place.

You manage to avoid everyone – with the exception of Hyunjin; you do have to see him in class after all – over the two and a half weeks leading up to the exhibition, drumming up excuse after excuse to bail whenever any of them asks to grab a bite together or just to simply hang out. If they saw you, they’d notice your puffy eyes and ask if you’ve been crying. They would ask why, and you can’t find in yourself to make up a lie believable enough for that kind of question.

You think Hyunjin has noticed. He’s a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he’s not stupid and he’s still blessed with the gift of sight. He doesn’t mention anything though, despite you showing up to almost every class with puffy eyelids. You suppose you’re grateful for that.

Minho hasn’t talked to you at all since that night. Doesn’t ask you how your project’s going, doesn’t ask you about the exhibition, barely even speaks in the group chat, not even a boring comment about the weather. What were you expecting anyway? You get it, you do.

But despite the silence, you never doubted that he would show up to the exhibition. If not for you, then he would be there to support Hyunjin.

The only person who really has an inkling that something is wrong is Jess, when you were getting ready together earlier tonight and she helped you conceal your puffy eyes. She’d tiptoed around the question before settling on  asking “Everything okay?” — simple, easy, quickly dismissible if you didn’t feel like sharing.

You didn’t, and she dropped the subject because there was no point in badgering you for answers anyway. 

Chan picked the both of you up afterward, and Jess didn’t have to explain anything to him when she slipped into the backseat with you instead of riding next to her boyfriend.

Now here you are, standing in a room full of your friends and peers, wearing a black dress that Jess helped you choose, and Minho is nowhere to be found. You’d spent all day pacing around, anxious at the mere thought of seeing him and even talking to him. What you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment, the unbearable feeling in the pit of your stomach in response to his absence. You can’t tell which is worse; maybe every moment without him all sucks the same.

When Hyunjin starts whining and takes out his phone to spam Minho’s messages demanding his location (you’re thankful that it didn’t have to come to you), all he receives in return is a measly “Running late.”

And that’s it. A mere text is enough to satiate everyone’s curiosity. Well, everyone but Hyunjin, because he’s still a nagging drama queen.

Minho is running late, and to anyone else, it’s the most normal thing in the world.

But to you… it means something beyond that. Because this was him. This was your Minho. Your Minho who’s never been known for his tardiness, who’s never once broken a promise, who’s always there for you no matter what.

All you know right now is his absence, and it makes you sink.

You sink, and then you wait. Not a lot to be done about it.

You slip away to a quiet spot, a vacant hallway, to be by yourself while everyone is out there wandering around and gorging themselves on the free food and drinks. You shouldn’t be with them anyway. All you need is to wallow in peace and not be the black cloud hanging over everybody’s heads.

There’s something so incredibly lonely in the act of waiting. Waiting to board a plane, waiting in line at the grocery store. Waiting for a phone call or text message that you know won’t come, waiting for a person whom you can only hope would show up. At the end of the day, that’s what waiting is, isn’t it? It’s wanting. It’s hoping, and if there’s one thing you know about hope, it’s that it’s dangerous.

You wonder if this is how Minho felt all this time, waiting on a girl who’s always prepared to leave. You wonder if, that night, he had expected you to reciprocate his feelings. You did. You do, and a part of you wanted to tell him that you loved him too. The words were there, and yet…

It’s true that you love him, and it’s true that you don’t want to. If hope is dangerous then love is fucking terrifying. 

He’d been so patient with you, so awfully gentle and quiet in the chasm of his waiting that you mistook the tenderness for everything except for what it actually was – love. Or perhaps you did know. Maybe deep down, you knew that you would’ve loved him back with everything you had, with every fiber of your being. That you would’ve let him be the only one to ever really know you, and it felt like a fear greater than you could bear. 

In the end, did you lose him? Can you lose something you never had? It wasn’t a love that you let slip away; it was a what if.

You’re in a room with people who love you and yet, all you can think about is Minho. You miss him so much that it feels like someone has spliced you in two, that it physically makes you ache every second that he isn’t with you. As selfish as it sounds, you want him to walk through the door and you want everything to be okay again. You want to be back in a bubble with just the two of you and a locked box filled with words unsaid. You thought you could stay in that bubble forever, where it was safe and you could pretend that you were happy, and maybe you really were happy with him. But all things — good or bad — must come to an end. The bubble burst, and this was the real world.

You want to undo your cruelty, want him to take back his sincerity. You want an ocean of distance between you and him, you want to pull him as close as humanly possible. All your wants are contradictions. You’re a paradox of puzzle pieces that never seem to fit together.

You want to tell him that it hurts. Want him to make it better because he’s the only one who can make it better.

But miracles rarely happen and there are no shooting stars in sight. Minho was the closest thing you got to a shooting star, burning across your night sky for just a brief moment. Blink and you could miss it. Blink and you did miss him.

Your fingers find his contact in your phone before you could stop yourself, and soon enough, you’re pressing the call button. It’s like drunk dialling, only you aren’t intoxicated. Or maybe you are; maybe you’re under the influence of his absence and how much it stings.

You don’t know why you’re calling him, don’t know what to even say when he picks up.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wonder for long.

“Your call has been forwarded to voicemail. Please leave your message after the tone,” comes the automated voice on the other end.

For some reason, you don’t hang up. You wait for the beep, then you wait some more. It’s not until ten seconds later that you find your voice, the only thing to come out of your mouth is a quiet Hey.

You clear your throat, rub the sweaty palm of your free hand on your dress. “Hey,” you try again. “It’s… me. I’m at the gallery with everyone. Uhm, they’re all waiting for you. Are you on your way? Are you stuck in traffic? Or did you forget it was today? Hyunjin is trying really hard not to blow up your phone–” You pause to chuckle dryly. “But you know it would mean a lot to him to have you here. It… it’d mean a lot to me too if you were here. I don’t know, I assumed you’d come. I’m sorry, that was stupid of me. I just…” Another pause. This time, it’s so that you could take a breath. “Listen, Minho, I didn’t mean what I said to you. I’m sorry I was an asshole. I’m sorry that I hurt you, I don’t have any excuse for that. You deserve better than me. It’s going to pass, you know? I’m sorry if you’ve wasted your time on me, but… you’re going to find someone else, and you’re going to get over it. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. It’s fine if you never want to talk to me again, just please don’t let it get between you and our fr–”

The line beeps again. “To replay the message, press 1. To save the message, press 2. To delete the message, press 3.”

You purse your lips together. There’s still a lump in your throat and no peace to be made. It’s like drunk dialling, only you pull yourself together at the very last second. Your thumb hovers over the dial pad on your phone until you eventually end up on 3, because your cowardice will always triumph in the end. Back to square one. Everything’s still the same as it was five minutes ago.

You force your legs to move, like how you'd force yourself to get up and eat and drink water and shower and be a person these days. When you round the corner, you bump against something solid. A person. The collision isn’t hard enough to knock you backward; they weren’t moving, they’d only been standing still.

You look up at Seungmin, who merely blinks at you. You don’t know how long he’s been here, if he heard anything at all. You swallow once, considering whether you should just play dumb and gauge his reaction or ask point blank if you’ve been caught. He beats you to the decision though.

“You and Minho,” Seungmin says, a bit hesitant, like the topic is weird to bring up. “You’re the girl.”

A deer in headlights, you are. A pathetic one at that, too.

But even then, you’re not panicked, not really. You’re just sad, and the truth was bound to come out eventually. 

“Please don’t tell anyone,” you say.

The discarded voicemail that he overheard, the dejection written all over your face, the silence from both you and Minho recently — it’s obvious to pretty much everyone, and Seungmin is smarter than most.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again like he’s choosing his words. The Seungmin-esque blank stare melting away to make space for some pity, then a question, “Is there anything left to tell?”

You escape to the empty garden in the back where there were a few lonely chairs set up, so you could have some privacy to talk. Despite everything, it feels like you’ve got a little breathing space, just being able to share this with someone. To not have to carry it all on your own. You’re glad that it was Seungmin who found out first. You have a feeling that he would understand, at least to some degree. You’re relieved, even when the first question that he asks is, “So, how did you fuck it up?”

“Why do you just automatically assume it was me?” You’re mildly offended, even though he’s right.

“Between you and Minho, I’d bet on you.” Seungmin shrugs. “You spook easily.”

“I deeply resent that notion.”

He turns to look at you, no trace of any teasing. “Can you prove me wrong?”

But you can’t, and it tells him as much when you avert his eyes in favor of the ground, where you kick at a lonesome pebble sitting among the grass. It lands somewhere between the green blades, lost in the shadows that cast over parts of the garden that are poorly lit.

“So what happened?” he asks, turning away again to stare out at the empty space. You like to think of it as him giving you some elbow room, to ease the pressure of being scrutinized. And as much as you appreciate it, it still takes you another brief moment before you can formulate a coherent sentence, another minute of twiddling your fingers in your lap.

You tell Seungmin about your first night with Minho – not the details, of course; that would be weird and it’s none of his business. Just that it happened, how you both let it keep happening over the past few months while nobody suspected a thing.

Seungmin nods solemnly, like he’s putting together the missing pieces.

“Did you ever notice anything?” you ask.

“I mean… not about you hooking up, but we thought you’d end up together eventually.” He shrugs. “We always kinda assumed that you two would become those people who make a pact to get married if you’re still single by 40 or 50, if you didn’t get together before then. It makes sense. You and Minho just sort of make sense.”

“Oh,” you say. Your heart swoops. Hearing it from Seungmin makes you sad. Not the same brand of sadness that you’ve been wearing lately though. A different kind, the kind of sadness that’s a little numbing and makes it difficult to breathe. “Well, sorry to disappoint everyone but I don’t think any of it is gonna happen anymore.”

“So… how did it happen?” Seungmin asks again, mimicking explosions with his hands.

You let him off easy without a punch in the shoulder, because you just really don’t have the energy for it right now. “Minho wanted something more,” you tell your friend, fiddling with the rings on your fingers, then with the necklace charm resting on your collarbone. “And I just… I don’t know. I guess I freaked. I… said some awful stuff to him.”

Seungmin hums a sound of acknowledgement. He looks like he’s thinking about it, about you and Minho and what it means. “Classic,” he chuckles after a brief moment, mostly to himself. Maybe he’s thinking about what it means beyond just the pair of you too.

You side-eye him. “You’d know all about it, wouldn’t you?”

He shoots the glance back at you. “What are you trying to say here?”

You remember her, the only girl that Seungmin has ever hinted at liking. He never admitted it out loud to any of you, but you could all see it.

You only used to see her in passing at house parties, and even then, it wasn’t Seungmin nor her who brought the other one around. They would show up separately with their own group, mingle for a while, find each other after a couple of drinks before they disappeared to god-knows-where for the rest of the night. Sometimes, Changbin or Hyunjin would catch them before they could sneak off and insist that Seungmin let everyone get to know his friend.

These brief interactions are all you have with her, meaningless small talk for a few minutes before Seungmin’s patience ran thin and he whisked her away like they’d both intended. You liked her; she was nice, and she was really pretty. You liked her even though you didn’t know her, because she was the one person who Seungmin cared about enough to keep away from prying eyes. A secret shared only between the two of them, a bubble in which only they existed.

The last time you saw her with him must’ve been at least three months ago, maybe even longer. No one really knows what happened, just that she stopped showing up to parties, and Seungmin never brought it up again. You all assumed whatever he had going on with her had run its course, though it doesn’t really stop Hyunjin and Jisung from mentioning her every now and again just to tease him.

“I seem to recall a Halloween party last year and a certain someone was in a bee costume and–”

“Fine,” Seungmin interjects, rolling his eyes. “Fine, we can form our own dumbass club. Happy?”

You laugh a little, even though the whole thing isn’t very funny. Your shared experience is nothing to take pride in.

“So how did you blow it up?” you ask.

He gives you a sour glare before his eyes soften. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and in his silence you find that you and him are more similar in ways that you’ve never cared enough to admit before. This sadness that you carry, you have a feeling that he knows it all too well.

“Like I said, classic,” Seungmin tells you. “She wanted something more. I freaked. I ghosted her.”

A mirror. Two sides of the same stupid coin.

You lean back against your seat. “Did you like her?”

It takes a beat, but his answer comes out as an honest, “Yeah, I liked her. Liked her too much.”

“Why did you do that to her then?”

“Why did you do that to Minho?” Seungmin deadpans, but he doesn’t seem to want a response from you. He just sighs, wistfully adding, “I’ve thought about it a lot. It’s scary to be wanted because it means someone’s putting you on a pedestal, and when you’re on a pedestal, the more it’ll hurt if you fall off. The more they’re counting on you to not let them down, the easier it is to fuck it all up. People like us, we’re flight risks. We can’t help it. We think it’s better to just leave before we can do any real damage. When you said whatever terrible shit you said to Minho, that was the first thing you thought about, right? To be cruel? That’s what I did too. Such a fucking stupid knee-jerk reaction.”

You don’t know how to respond, so you just sit there, completely still. 

Then Seungmin turns to you, and for the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, he’s looking at you, really looking at you. No snarky side-eye, no playful faux glare. Just a strange and unfamiliar sincerity, like he’s asking you to fix what he couldn’t, undo the cruelty that he never bothered apologizing for.

“Minho would understand, you know? If you’d just talk to him,” Seungmin says. “You made a mistake in the heat of the moment. But you want to have something real with him, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t be here talking to me about this and beating yourself up over it.”

“I told you. That ship sailed.” And you’re standing up for no apparent reason other than the fact that you’re suddenly restless, your stomach twisting in knots out of nowhere. “He’s not even here. He didn’t even show up tonight. I think that’s saying enough.”

Your friend rises to his feet too, probably because he thinks it’s weird to be the only one sitting now while you’re upset and pacing about. It’s not until Seungmin takes a step closer that you realize you’re shaking a little.

“Hey, you good?” He puts a hand on your shoulder. “I talked to Minho yesterday. He said he’d come. Maybe something came up or he just–”

Hyunjin’s voice interrupts Seungmin in the middle of his sentence, the excited squeal carrying itself from all the way inside the gallery to the back garden through the door left ajar. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, maybe there’s a reason why people say it. It’s laughable, really.

You and Seungmin both turn your attention to the brief commotion indoors, where you see Hyunjin smiling so big that his eyes have crinkled into crescent moons, where he’s standing with his arm thrown around Minho and shaking him by the shoulders.

These days, it’s easy to pretend that time is standing still. You don’t even know if time is even passing at all; you’re just looking at him, dressed in a black blazer and some dress pants. Casual but he looks good. He always does.

You watch as he says something to Hyunjin that seems to calm the latter down a bit, at least enough for Minho to quickly scan the room, searching. You watch as his eyes sweep through all the people gathered inside, not stopping until they land on you, finding you on the other side of the glass door. Even in this terrible lighting, not entirely visible you assume, he sees you.

There was a conversation you had with Minho some time ago, when you two were sprawled out on your couch munching on strawberry Peperos and not paying attention to the movie that was playing on your TV, when he asked how you wanted your life to be at 40.

You knew what the boring answer was – you wanted your life to be stable, and you told him as much. Isn’t stability always the goal? Maybe a lame corporate job if the whole starving-artist-who-makes-it-big-overnight dream didn’t pan out. A cat and a dog named Mochi and Mocha, if you could afford two pets at once. An apartment that you owned, with framed pictures of everything you loved scattered all over the place, and stupidly cute fairy lights that you often see on Pinterest, and an unfathomable amount of plushies that your inner child was never indulged in. A peaceful and quiet life, at least to some extent. 

The honest answer, the one that you didn’t tell him, was you wanted to not live with regret.

But as you lock eyes with him, for a split second there, you know that you will.

About twenty years down the line, when you look back on your life and think of this chapter, you’ll think about a boy who loved you and whom you loved. How you broke both of your hearts trying to protect your own. You’ll wonder if he’s married, if he has kids, if he still reminisces about the girl he used to love when he was young. If he’s happy and if his dreams came true. If the sadness you caused yourself was worth it, if the pain meant anything at all. If you could go back in time and undo everything, would you?

You’ll get over it eventually – surely you will; heartbreak isn’t the end of the world – but you’ll live with the grief of what could’ve been if you weren’t afraid. You’ll be left to mourn the road not taken, your almost but never was. 

You’re the one who moves first, when it starts to become a struggle just to breathe. You stumble away from Minho’s line of sight, until you find a wall that you can rest against.

Seungmin is quick to follow. “Hey, woah, are you okay?”

Your hands alternate between balling themselves into tight fists and attempting in vain to grab at the flat surface of the concrete. There are no words that you can form to answer him. Only your ragged breathing and your pathetic effort to take in some air through your mouth.

“Okay, shit, uhm,” Seungmin sputters. “Hang on.”

Then he’s taking off. You don’t know how long he’s gone for, where he’s gone off to, and frankly, you can’t really bring yourself to care. Your hands abandon the wall in favor of your dress, something that you can actually hold onto. Your trembling fingers clutch the hem of your dress like they’re pretending it’s a lifeline, bunching and twisting the fabric in your sweaty palms. Hoping it’ll help, but it doesn’t at all.

Even over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, you could hear new footsteps coming out into the empty garden. Rushed at first, then they stop for a brief moment. You know who it is before he even approaches you.

Damn that Kim Seungmin.

The familiar scent of his cologne greets you before his voice. You spent hours and hours enveloped in this scent until it was dulled by sweat from the activities you were engaged in, if it wasn’t already softened by the kisses you would leave all over his skin.

When he calls your name, it comes out so soft, like you never broke his heart in the first place and that night was only a figment of your twisted imagination. He sounds so gentle, yet it sends you further down the crippling spiral. You don’t deserve him; maybe you never did, despite what Seungmin tried to put through your head earlier.

“I’m fine.” But you know your appearance has already betrayed your words. The first thing you say to him in weeks, and it’s a lie. You’re still leaning against the wall with your arms wrapped tightly around your trembling frame and your eyes squeezed shut. It’s a pitiful sight. Even more so when it registers in your brain that it’s Minho of all people who’s witnessing it. 

He doesn’t say anything else, only lets out a sigh, and then his hand is on your body, a warm palm touching the small of your back out of habit before he moves it upward to rub between your shoulder blades. “Can you breathe?”

His question makes you all too aware that there’s something gnawing inside of your chest, makes you think for a second there that you’re going to die though you know that you won’t. You shake your head with your eyes still closed, your breathing coming out more ragged by the second. You can’t even bear to look at him and absorb the worry in his eyes; you’re sure you’ll only cry if you do, and it’s the last thing you need right now.

But it turns out that seeing Minho’s face isn’t the only thing that can bring you to tears. When you feel him tug at your arms, his warmth on your bare skin, you start crying anyway and that makes it even harder to breathe. There’s not a single ounce of resistance in your body, your limbs obeying him easily when they untangle themselves around your waist to fall by your sides as he pulls you into his chest, with one hand over your sternum and his thumb rubbing back and forth. He’s careful about it too, like he’s handling broken pieces of something that used to be beautiful.

“You’re okay,” he says, but you’ve got your face pressed into the crook of his neck and your tears are staining the collar of his shirt. “You’re gonna be fine. Just… listen to me.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to speak next.

“Name three things you can see,” he says. “You don’t have to say it out loud. Just think about it.”

You open your eyes finally, angling your head until most of your vision isn’t obstructed by the proximity of his body. Minho tightens his arm around you, and you blink away some of the tears.

Your black heels that your mom got you for your birthday a while ago.

The grass, darkened green and damp.

Him. 

“Three things you can hear.”

Light chatter coming from inside the gallery.

Cars passing by on the adjacent street.

Him, the sound of his breathing.

“Three things you can touch.”

The soft material of your dress against your skin.

The bracelet, hugging your wrist, weighing you down like an anchor.

And… him.

Him, him, him.

You don’t know what reason Minho makes up to excuse you for the rest of night, but you don’t bother asking. There’s really no space left in your head to think about it twice, to care about leaving your friends or feel guilty about Hyunjin because he was so excited about today. It’s too much; all you want is to go home, get away from here.

Minho calls you both an Uber back to your place. During the entire ride, he doesn’t say a word and neither do you. And even though you mostly opt for looking out the window at the other cars and houses and people passing by, every now and then you could feel his eyes on you from the other side of the backseat.

When you arrive, he keeps a hand on the small of your back as you make your way up the stairs. When you unlock the door, you leave it open so he could follow you inside. You suppose that one is a force of habit. You’re not used to shutting the door in his face. At least, not in the literal sense anyway.

Then it returns, that gnawing feeling. A feeling far too colossal for your body to house. It sits somewhere inside your ribcage, sharp and desperate, with claws trying to dig its way out. And for the first time in maybe ever, you understand what it truly means to want something this badly. You love him, and it hurts. You love him even though it hurts.

Minho moves around the place while you remain frozen in the middle of your own apartment, as if he’s the one who lives here and you’re just visiting for the night. You let him take off your makeup (with a wipe; you’re going to hate yourself in the morning), let him help you change into clothes that you can sleep in, even let him tuck you into bed like you’re a helpless child. If he notices the bracelet on you, he doesn’t say anything. Everything is done in silence.

You don’t look him in the eye. You don’t think you can handle what you’ll find there.

But you do reach for his hand when he tries to leave now that there’s nothing left for him to do here. There’s not a single thought behind your action, just a need to have him near.

“Can you…?” 

You aren’t brave enough to finish the question, your voice trailing off and the words dissipating like smoke after a lonely cigarette drag. You’re being selfish right now, you’re awfully aware of this.

Minho doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even let out a single sigh. For a second there, you think he’s about to leave you here, cold and alone, just like you had done to him. It would be nothing less than what you deserve.

But then he’s shrugging off his blazer and your heart is in your throat. When he slips into bed beside you, something hurts, the kind of ache that spreads all across your chest and makes your lungs burn.

Earlier tonight, he could’ve walked away and let you be somebody else’s burden. Your friends were all there, it’s not like they would’ve left you stranded.

You’re not really sure what to think. It doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, but maybe it’s just enough confirmation that he doesn’t hate you more than he loves you.

You break the deafening stretch of silence with a whisper, “I’m sorry.” You don’t know what the apology is for. Are you sorry for that night, for the things you said to him? Are you sorry that you’re only yourself, that he just had to go ahead and fall for you of all people? Sorry that you’re too much of a coward and a lost cause to love him right? You don’t know, but it feels appropriate to apologize. You owe him that much.

“Don’t…” Minho says after a while. “You don’t have to do that.”

The familiar sensation returns – the one that stings the back of your eyes, burns your nostrils and makes you all choked up. You try to hold your breath and will it away, but the first tear spills without your permission, and you can’t help the shaky inhale – close to a gasp and followed by a sniffle – that punctuates your lungs when they start protesting against the sudden lack of oxygen. 

You grip the sheets so hard you think you could rip through the fabric and dig into your own palm. It’s a pathetic feeling, like a strange kind of embarrassment that you can’t quite describe. The room is deadly quiet; you know there’s no way he didn’t catch the noise.

You hear Minho shift from where he lays behind you, some rustling when he moves against the duvet and the mattress. “Don’t cry,” he sighs. And it’s still so gentle. You’ve never known him to be anything but gentle.

You bite the inside of your cheek, blinking some of the tears away. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just… don’t cry.” It sounds like he’s holding something back but you aren’t sure. “Don’t cry. Go to sleep. We can talk in the morning, if you want.”

You sniffle some more, and maybe that makes Minho think he still needs to appease you even further. He reaches out finally, to brush a comforting hand against your arm. “Go to sleep. Promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You don’t know if you want to talk in the morning, because there’s nothing for you to say. All you really have is what he’s already heard – I’m sorry, like an utterly broken record. But you want him to stay even if it’s only for the morning. Even if all he’ll get is silence at best and choked up breaths at worst. Your last-ditch attempt at grasping straws, a futile effort to chase running water.

“Okay,” you tell him, and neither of you says anything afterward. The tears keep falling for a while, and at some point it tires you out enough to slip into a dreamless sleep.

When you open your eyes hours later, the sun is already up. The clock on your phone reads 7:06AM and the first thing you register is an uncomfortable dryness in your throat. Behind you, the bed is still warm. You can actually feel it underneath your fingertips when you reach out, the warmth dwindling from the side of the bed that’s been left vacant. Minho has never broken a promise to you before.

He’s gone, and you sink again.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.01.2025]

[067supremacy]

Jealousy

Just some good old Jealousy trope! This was something I found in my drafts from a while ago so not my best work but I hope you enjoy! ❤️

For more check my masterlist

Your team had just managed to make it through to the next round of games. Whether it was sheer luck or divine intervention, you did it. Sae-Byeok held your hand tightly as she couldn't handle the fact her long-term partner was almost killed in front of her very eyes. Luckily for her and you, number 289 a blonde girl with Sharp features who you had invited onto the team had saved your life. The speed at which it all happened left you stunned and on shaky legs. Luckily your girlfriend Sae-Byeok was able to walk you out of the arena as you didn't feel you had the strength to do so anymore.

The gunshots ring out behind you as the team you had just eliminated is sent to their deadly maker. "That could have been us," you weakly call out to no one in particular, your mind didn't even take in who had taken your hand as you were still in a daze. A voice from behind you rang through all the buzzing going around in your brain. "You did great, we couldn't have won that round without you." The blonde who saved your life says in a cheery voice. Looking back at the game itself you can't even remember a single thing you did, Sae-Byeok took on most of the hard work for you. She was doing everything in her power to make sure you got over the line, once again showing the loyalty and love she has for you.

After making it back to the Main Hall with the bunk beds lined up the piggy bank above your head fills with the cash of the fallen. The mountain of money gets bigger and you realise that your and Sae-Byeok's dream of getting her family back together under one roof is finally in sight. The blonde from before took a seat next to you and your girlfriend. "That's a lot of money, I hope it is enough to get me out of debt" you hear a person behind you say as the multiple groups speak among themselves. It was all becoming tribalistic now, the groups were getting smaller and less trustworthy, you had the stance of making as many friends as possible but your girlfriend didn't trust easily, and she certainly didn't trust any of the low lives and criminals she was sharing this space with.

The Blonde girl rubbed your shoulder and asked how you were doing which had gotten Sae-Byeok gritting her teeth in anger but she bit down on her tongue and let it slide given that this same girl had just saved you. But the squeeze on your hand became painfully tight leading you to yelp out in pain which snaps her out of her thoughts instantly. “I’ll be back in a second,” Sae-Byeok says before making her way to the women’s restroom. She checked herself in the mirror as she cleared away the specs of blood on her face before a familiar blonde girl appeared next to her. “You’re a very lucky person.” She says as she washes her hands in the same faucet Sae-Byeok was using. “What?” Sae-Byeok responds with confusion on her face and voice.

“I would do anything to make that mine…. Watch your back because I’m coming for what is yours.” The blonde girl says all the while giving your girlfriend a cheeky smile as she starts to pace back to your position. Upon Sae-Byeok's return the after-game snacks and drinks were being served to the remaining contestants as your partner scanned the room for your existence she spotted you in a crowd, still able to pick you out of the many around you. But then she witnesses the same blonde making you laugh. She balled her hand into a fist and started storming her way to your location, she pushed the blonde out of the way and took hold of your waist while planting a kiss on your cheek. “Are you okay?” She asks with genuine concern as she studies your features. “I’m okay,,, can’t say the same for the poor girl you just threw to the floor” you respond in amusement. You knew exactly what was going on, it happened far too many times outside the games…. She was getting Jealous.

“She said she wanted what is mine…. I’ll never let that happen.” Sae-Byeok spits with venom laced in her voice at the thought of this bitch taking her pride and joy. You pull her face to while cupping her cheek to be nose to nose with her. Lips brushing close together. “Does she know that I’m owned by you? If not you should show her.” You say seductively to Sae-Byeok knowing that would perk her up, you knew she loved nothing more than making it clear who you belonged to. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down slightly, producing small moans from you that no one seems to notice except for the one pair of eyes Sae-Byeok was hoping was seeing all of this. She kissed you deeply, her tongue mingling with yours in a dance for dominance which she easily wins. You take your position as the bottom very seriously knowing it pleased Sae-Byeok beyond belief to know you were fully committed to her. As the kiss breaks apart you decide to calm her mind completely.

“I’m yours, you have nothing to worry about…. I think you should remind me of that in the restroom.” You say as you take her hand and quickly make your way to enjoy a jealousy-fueled session you are sure to remember………

[redpill-tfs]

Red Wave

January 1st, 2025

Yo, so I started this Red Wave trial thing today. The docs said it’s supposed to, like, make your brain work better or something. Was told to track my thoughts in this journal thing. Honestly, I’m just here for the cash. I’m not buying into any of their science-y shit. Took the first pill this morning. Feel normal so far. Guess we’ll see if this stuff actually does anything.

Since I was told to describe myself a bit, I guess I might as well if I want that cash they promised. Name's Blake. I'm 26 and work at a local manufacturing company in the finance department. It's a pretty chill gig. Don't gotta wear a suit either which is good. Didn't even wear one to my graduation and I don't plan on starting now.

Anyway bro, I'm also a proud atheist. Never got into politics, but I guess I'm more liberal. I mean, just let people do what they want, right?

February 10th, 2025

Alright, not gonna lie, I’ve been feeling kinda sharp lately. Like, my head’s clearer, and I’m getting more stuff done at work. My boss Emily even said my presentation didn’t totally suck, which is rare. Oh, and I actually ironed my shirt today before work. Don’t know why—just felt like I should look decent. Weird, right? Maybe these pills aren’t total BS. I don't know why, but I've been thinking of wearing a tie to work...

March 12th, 2025

So get this, man: I bought a suit over the weekend. A whole grownup suit and a tie to go with it. I dunno know why, but I just felt like stepping up my game for my presentation at work today. And man did I look good. I got so many compliments on my fit. It honestly felt really good. My bros thought it was weird and so do I, but now that I have it I guess I'll use it at another presentation in the future.

April 15th, 2025

Something weird is going on. I heard some chick at work talking about her church today. Instead of scoffing and rolling my eyes, it made me, like, think a little. Like I got curious about it. I don't know what's going on, but I might have to check it out sometime.

Speaking of work, I've been wearing a tie more and more. It feels... right. People seem to notice too. I get so many compliments about them. I went back to the store and pick out a whole bunch of different colors. I may be the only guy in the department wearing one, but standing out isn't a bad thing I guess.

May 18th, 2025

Alright, so… I went to church today. Yeah, me. Blake, the proud atheist. Walked past St. Mark’s on the way to grab Starbuck's, and something just made me stop and go in. The music was kind of awesome, and the pastor’s talk about purpose hit me harder than I expected. I don’t even know what’s happening to me, but I’m starting to think there’s more to life than what I’ve been living. I might go back next week to see what I've been missing, but I'm not sure yet.

June 30th, 2025

This morning, I prayed. Like, actually prayed to God. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it, but it felt… good. I’ve also started reading bits of the Bible over the past week. There’s some deep stuff in there. Work’s going great, too. I’ve been mentoring one of the new guys, and Emily says she’s impressed with my leadership. Suits are now my everyday thing. Who knew dressing sharp could feel so right?

July 23rd, 2025

I’ve been pulling away from my old friends. Their whole sarcastic, edgy vibe just doesn’t sit right with me anymore. Instead, I’ve been hanging out with people from church who share my interest in self-improvement and faith. I’m even thinking about joining a volunteer group at the church. Life feels more meaningful now. My mind still feels so clear too. I don't know what this pill is doing to me, but it's working.

August 11th, 2025

I’ve been reflecting on some big ideas lately: responsibility, tradition, family values. They make so much sense now. I’ve also started watching a few commentators online who align with these views. Their logic is compelling. Honestly, I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. It’s like a veil has been lifted. Why should abortion be legal? Why should we violate the second amendment with gun control laws? Why do gays think thy can decide how the rest of us live our lives? So many questions I'm learning the answers to. I never paid much attention to politics, but maybe I should.

September 7th, 2025

Sunday service has become the cornerstone of my week. I’ve officially joined St. Mark’s and volunteered for their community outreach. Pastor Williams’s guidance has been invaluable. I’m entirely committed to this new path. My wardrobe, my habits, even my worldview have all transformed. I’m proud of the man I’ve become. I've said this a million times already, but it just feels right.

October 20th, 2025

Today is my birthday, and reflecting on this past year astounds me. My former self seems like a stranger. I’ve embraced faith, order, and purpose, and it just feels right. I got my hair cut to be a lot shorter than I once had it as a special birthday gift to myself. It feels more appropriate for my new image.

I had some friends from bible study over for a small party. I wore my best suit for the occasion. We played games, ate good food, and prayed of course. There was a riveting debate on the role of faith in politics. All in all, it was a good time. I can't believe how much my life has changed just in 10 months.

November 30th, 2025

Today was the final day of the trial. The scientist leading the study asked me all sorts of questions, from my conservative views to my faith in God and my new sense of style. I'm not sure what it all has to do with a mental focus pill, but I didn't feel like asking questions. I'm sure they know what they're doing. Anyways, I better get going. St. Mark's is having an event today to celebrate God and all of His glory. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

December 1st, 2025

The Red Wave trial has concluded with a 100% conversion rate among participants. Subjects exhibited profound and permanent shifts in personality, behavior, and worldview. Pre-trial skepticism and liberal inclinations were entirely replaced with conservative, faith-based identities. This case highlights the pill's efficacy in aligning individuals with structured, traditional conservative values. Further research will examine long-term societal impacts of widespread application. More subjects needed.

[andy-15-07]

The Empress and the General

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 3399

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The Colosseum buzzed with the thunderous cheers of Rome’s citizens. The air was thick with anticipation, dust swirling in the golden rays of the sun. General Marcus Acacius, his polished armor gleaming, stood near the Emperor's platform. His piercing gaze scanned the roaring crowd, but his mind was steady, unyielding. He had long served Rome with unwavering loyalty, his reputation as a fierce warrior preceding him.

Today, however, his focus faltered as his eyes fell on her.

Y/N sat gracefully beside her brothers, Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla, adorned in a flowing gown of imperial purple and gold. Her presence was like a beacon amidst the chaos, her beauty striking, her demeanor regal. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement as she watched the spectacle below. Marcus felt his breath hitch—a reaction he hadn’t experienced in years.

As though sensing his gaze, Y/N turned her head, her eyes meeting his. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause. A flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—passed between them before she looked away, her lips curving into a small smile.

Marcus swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away. He was a soldier, bound by duty. And she—she was untouchable.

Later that evening, the emperors summoned Marcus to their private chambers. The siblings were striking in their contrasting personas: Geta, the more calculating and composed ruler, and Caracalla, brash and fiery. Y/N sat quietly to the side, her expression unreadable.

"General Acacius," Geta began, his tone measured, "you have served Rome well, and we entrust you with a new responsibility."

Marcus inclined his head respectfully. "Anything for the glory of Rome, my lords."

Caracalla leaned forward, a sly grin on his lips. "Our sister, Y/N, is dear to us. As you know, the court is rife with intrigue. We require someone capable of ensuring her safety."

Marcus blinked, his composure unwavering despite the quickened pace of his heart. "You wish for me to guard her, my lord?"

"Precisely," Geta affirmed. "You will accompany her during public appearances, oversee her security, and report directly to us."

Marcus’s gaze flickered briefly to Y/N, who now watched him intently. "It will be my honor."

The following days saw Marcus in Y/N’s constant presence. Initially, their interactions were formal. She would nod politely when he escorted her, offer a soft "thank you" when he opened doors or helped her into carriages. Yet, there was a quiet curiosity in her eyes, as if she sought to understand the man behind the armor.

One afternoon, as they strolled through the imperial gardens, Y/N finally spoke.

"Do you always take your duties so seriously, General?"

Marcus glanced at her, surprised by her playful tone. "A soldier’s duty is his life, my lady."

"Surely there’s more to life than duty," she mused, plucking a flower and twirling it between her fingers.

"Not for someone like me," he replied, his voice low.

"And what is someone like you?"

Marcus hesitated. "A man who serves. Nothing more."

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. "I don’t believe that. You’re more than just a soldier, Marcus Acacius."

Hearing his name from her lips sent a shiver through him. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "You honor me with your words, my lady."

She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Perhaps I do."

As weeks passed, their conversations grew deeper. Y/N shared stories of her childhood, moments of joy and sorrow. Marcus, in turn, revealed fragments of his life—his rise through the ranks, his loyalty to Rome. Slowly, walls crumbled, and an undeniable connection formed between them.

One evening, as they stood on a balcony overlooking the city, Y/N spoke softly. "Do you ever dream, Marcus?"

"Dream?" he echoed.

"Yes. Of something beyond this life. Beyond duty and titles."

Marcus looked at her, the moonlight casting her features in a soft glow. "I stopped dreaming long ago."

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "Then perhaps it’s time you start again."

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine—a life where she wasn’t the sister of emperors, where he wasn’t bound by duty. A life where they could be free.

Their growing closeness did not go unnoticed. Whispers spread through the court, and the emperors, though initially indifferent, began to question Marcus’s loyalty.

Caracalla confronted him one day, his tone sharp. "Do not mistake my trust for permission, General. My sister is not yours to covet."

Marcus stood his ground, his voice steady. "I have done nothing to dishonor her or your family, my lord."

"See that it stays that way," Caracalla warned, his eyes narrowing.

The tension only served to deepen Marcus’s resolve. He couldn’t deny his feelings for Y/N, but he also couldn’t risk her safety. Yet, Y/N, ever perceptive, sensed his inner turmoil.

One night, as they walked through the palace halls, she stopped abruptly.

"Marcus," she said, her voice firm, "do you care for me?"

He froze, his heart pounding. "My lady, I—"

"Do not lie to me," she interrupted, stepping closer. "I see it in your eyes. You feel what I feel."

Marcus exhaled shakily. "It doesn’t matter. You are—"

"Don’t say it," she pleaded. "Don’t remind me of the chains that bind us."

Her vulnerability shattered his defenses. Without thinking, he reached out, cupping her face gently. "I would give everything to be with you," he admitted, his voice raw.

"And I would do the same," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

Their love, though forbidden, became their solace. They stole moments whenever they could—hidden glances, whispered words, fleeting touches.

But their happiness was fleeting. The emperors grew suspicious, and whispers of betrayal reached their ears.

One fateful day, Marcus was summoned to the throne room. Geta and Caracalla stood side by side, their expressions grim. Y/N stood behind them, her face pale.

"General Acacius," Geta began, "you have served Rome faithfully, but your recent actions have brought your loyalty into question."

Marcus dropped to one knee. "I have done nothing to betray Rome or your trust, my lords."

Caracalla sneered. "Do not insult our intelligence. Your feelings for our sister are no secret."

Y/N stepped forward, her voice trembling. "They are my feelings as well. Do not punish him for what is beyond his control."

Her words stunned the room into silence. Marcus looked up at her, his eyes wide.

Geta sighed, his tone heavy. "This cannot continue. For the sake of the empire, Marcus, you must leave."

Marcus was exiled, sent to the outskirts of the empire. But even distance could not sever their bond. Through letters smuggled by loyal servants, they kept their love alive, vowing to reunite one day.

Years later, as Marcus fought in a distant land, a message arrived. It bore Y/N’s handwriting, her words filled with hope and longing.

"Rome may keep us apart, but my heart is yours, always. One day, we will find our way back to each other."

And with that promise, Marcus held onto hope, determined to defy fate and reclaim the love that had changed him forever.

The quiet of the night was broken only by the rustle of leaves in the wind, but Y/N felt the weight of a decision that had long been simmering in her heart. The golden glow of the imperial palace, with its looming marble columns and opulent halls, had never been more suffocating. The weight of being the sister of two emperors, of carrying the expectations and responsibilities of the empire on her shoulders, had grown unbearable. Even her love for her brothers had not been enough to silence the yearning that had lodged deep within her—a yearning for freedom, for a life not defined by power or politics, but by love and choice.

She glanced out of her window one final time, at the majestic city of Rome stretching endlessly beneath the sky. But her thoughts were not on the glory of the empire. They were on the man she had left behind, the man who had once stood beside her, not as a general or protector, but as a lover—Marcus Acacius.

It had been nearly three years since her brothers had exiled him, a decision that had torn her apart. Yet, with every letter she received from him, with every fleeting moment of longing, her resolve had only strengthened. She could not bear the thought of living without him. He had become more than a soldier to her—he was her heart, her future.

The plan was simple, though dangerous. She would leave in the dead of night, with nothing but a few personal belongings and a letter to her brothers. There was no turning back once she stepped beyond the palace walls. But as she made her preparations, a sense of peace settled over her, knowing that this was the right choice.

By the time the moon reached its zenith, Y/N had left the palace behind. The streets of Rome were deserted, the bustling life of the city hushed under the veil of darkness. Her heart raced with each step, but there was no hesitation. She was driven by a singular purpose: to find Marcus, to build a life with him, far from the reach of her brothers and their empire.

The journey was long and treacherous. She had little more than the clothes on her back, but her mind was resolute. She knew the way to the small village where Marcus had taken refuge after his exile. It was a place far removed from the influence of the empire, nestled at the edges of the Roman world, where the forests were thick and the land untamed. The journey, though, was fraught with danger. There were still whispers of Marcus’s supposed betrayal of Rome, and she knew that Roman patrols could be anywhere, hunting for her.

But her love for him was stronger than the fear that clawed at her chest. She would endure whatever hardships lay ahead, for him. For them.

Days passed before she finally arrived at the small stone house Marcus had built for them. The door swung open as soon as she knocked, revealing a man who looked nothing like the polished general she had known. His once-gilded armor had been replaced with simple tunics, and his face, once smooth and youthful, now carried the marks of exile. Yet, as their eyes met, the love in his gaze was unchanged.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief and emotion.

She smiled, tears threatening to fall. "I had to come, Marcus. I couldn’t stay. Not without you."

He stepped forward, his arms wrapping around her as if afraid that if he let go, she would vanish into the night. The familiar weight of his arms around her brought a sense of calm that she hadn’t realized she had been missing. "You shouldn’t have, Y/N. The empire... they will come for you."

"I’m done with the empire," she said softly, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I’m done with all of it. I want to be with you."

His gaze softened, but a flicker of doubt passed through his eyes. "But what about your brothers? Your family? You’re leaving everything behind."

She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "I am leaving the empire behind, Marcus. I am choosing you. I have never been happier than when I am with you. I will follow you, wherever we go."

The weight of her words hung between them, a promise that neither of them would ever break. They stood there for a long time, simply holding each other, knowing that this moment—this love—was all they needed.

In the years that followed, their life together was filled with quiet moments of happiness, but also struggles that tested them both. They built a small farm together, the land harsh but fertile, and over time, the house grew with the addition of their children.

Lucius was the first to be born, a strong-willed boy who took after his father’s fierce determination. He was quick to pick up a sword and began practicing with Marcus from the age of six. Aurelia came next, her sharp mind and quick wit making her a natural leader. Even as a child, she could take charge of any situation, and her mother often found herself marveling at the young woman she was becoming.

Cassian was a dreamer, always lost in his thoughts or in the pages of the books Y/N had secretly saved from her royal life. He wasn’t interested in swordplay or fighting; instead, he dreamed of stories and adventures. But even he had a strong will, and when the time came, he would fight for those he loved.

Junia, their youngest, was the spark that kept the family alive. With her mischievous grin and boundless energy, she reminded them all that even in the darkest times, joy could still be found.

But even as they created a life for themselves, the shadow of the empire was never far behind. Marcus had hoped to fade into obscurity, but his past as a general would always haunt him. And soon, the empire came calling once more.

The years that followed Marcus and Y/N’s decision to live outside the empire were filled with both challenges and moments of quiet happiness. As they watched their children grow, the family created a life rich in love, rooted in the simplicity of the land they had chosen to call home. It wasn’t the grandeur of Rome, nor the power of an empire that shaped their world—it was the warmth of their shared moments, the strength of their love, and the joy of raising their children together.

It was early in the morning when the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, casting a soft glow over the land. Marcus and Y/N stood side by side in the garden, their hands intertwined as they watched their children play in the fields. The air was fresh with the scent of wildflowers, and the sound of laughter filled the space between them.

Lucius, now a young man of seventeen, raced after his younger siblings, Aurelia and Cassian, who were in pursuit of a butterfly that fluttered just beyond their reach. Junia, ever the energetic one, hopped in circles, her giggles ringing out as she watched her brothers and sister. It was moments like these that made everything worth it—these simple joys that, even in their most difficult days, filled the family with a sense of peace.

"You know," Y/N said softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of love and gratitude, "when I imagined a life with you, I never imagined this. A home filled with laughter, with children, with peace."

Marcus smiled, his eyes softening as he watched their children. "I never imagined it either. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

He leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You are my greatest treasure, Y/N. I never knew what it was to truly live until I had you beside me."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with love. "And you, Marcus. I never knew what it was to be truly free until I found you."

They stood there for a moment, silently watching their children. The world outside their home may have been filled with turmoil and uncertainty, but here, in this moment, they had everything they needed. A family, bound by love, and a future that stretched ahead of them, full of possibility.

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the family gathered around a small table outside, their meal simple but filled with warmth. The fire crackled in the background, casting a soft light over their faces. The children chatted excitedly about their day—Lucius had learned how to fish, Aurelia had discovered a hidden grove of trees, and Cassian had spent hours reading the stories that Y/N had brought with her from the city.

"Father," Lucius said, his voice carrying the weight of a young man who had already learned the value of hard work, "how did you know what to do when you were in the army? How did you make those tough decisions?"

Marcus looked at his son, his heart swelling with pride. "It wasn’t always easy, Lucius. The weight of those decisions… it was heavy. But every choice I made, I made with the hope that it would protect the people I loved. And now," he added, his voice softening, "I make my decisions based on the same love, but this time, it’s for all of you."

Lucius nodded, understanding the depth of his father's words. He had learned much from Marcus—not just in skill, but in honor, duty, and love. Aurelia, ever the wise one, placed her hand on his arm.

"Father," she said, "you’ve taught us so much about what truly matters. You’ve shown us how to live, not just survive. And that is something we will carry with us forever."

Cassian, who had been listening intently, looked up from his book. "I think the best lesson you’ve taught me is that it’s okay to dream, even if the world doesn’t always understand. I used to think I had to be like everyone else, but now I know I can be true to who I am."

Marcus smiled, his heart full as he looked around at his children. He and Y/N had given them more than just survival. They had given them a home, a sense of belonging, and the freedom to be themselves.

As the evening wore on, the family sat around the fire, the sounds of nature enveloping them. Marcus reached for Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Look at them," he said quietly, his voice full of awe. "They’re so full of life, so full of love. We’ve created something beautiful, haven’t we?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Yes, we have. They are our greatest creation, Marcus. Our legacy."

Aurelia, ever perceptive, leaned over to her mother. "Do you ever miss Rome, Mother? The life we left behind?"

Y/N paused for a moment, considering her daughter’s question. "Sometimes, I think about it. I think about what could have been, what we might have had. But when I look at this," she said, gesturing to the family gathered around the table, "I know we made the right choice. I have everything I need right here."

Lucius smiled at his mother’s words, his expression thoughtful. "And so do I. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything."

Marcus looked at his children, his heart swelling with love and pride. He had come so far from the man he once was—the soldier who served Rome without question. And now, he was a father, a husband, a man who had built a life worth living, a life where love was the greatest force of all.

As the stars began to twinkle above, and the sounds of the night enveloped them in a peaceful quiet, Marcus stood and held out his hand to Y/N. "Shall we, my love?"

She took his hand, standing beside him as they walked slowly into the night, their children’s laughter echoing behind them. There was no grand empire waiting for them—no throne, no titles, no power. But they had something far more precious: each other. And together, they would face whatever the future held, knowing that as long as they had each other, they would always have everything they needed.

Some time later, the family found themselves gathered in the warm glow of the fire again, the flickering light casting soft shadows across the room. Lucius had returned from his training, Aurelia had spent the day working on their garden, and Cassian, with his book in hand, had wandered out to join the family.

Marcus stood before them, a proud smile on his face. "Your mother and I were talking, and we think it’s time you all start learning about what comes after this life. What comes after the days spent in the fields and the gardens. It’s time you understand that family doesn’t just mean those we’re born to—it means those we choose to protect."

Lucius nodded, his eyes gleaming with a deep understanding of his father’s words. Aurelia set her tools aside, her mind already turning with thoughts of how she could help. Cassian, ever the thoughtful one, placed his book down gently.

Y/N glanced at Marcus, her eyes filled with love, then turned to their children. "We’ve built something strong together. But the world outside this farm won’t always be as kind. You must remember that the true power lies in love and the choices we make—what we give to one another, what we protect with all our hearts."

And as they sat together in the warmth of their small home, surrounded by the peace they had built, they knew that their greatest legacy would be the love they shared, the family they had created, and the lessons they would pass on to the generations that followed.